Does Linus quoting Luke chapter 2 get you every year like it does me when A Charlie Brown Christmas comes on television? Or do you wait for the tongue-stuck-on-the-flagpole scene from A Christmas Story? Or maybe you prefer a more recent movie like Home Alone, The Santa Claus, or How the Grinch Stole Christmas.
It seems like the Christmas season, with family gathering and time off, provides the perfect opportunity to watch some old favorites or venture out to see a new movie at the theatre. Movie makers know that a good story will drive us to the theatre in droves. (Just look out how The Blind Side surged to #1 this past weekend after being in the theatre for several weeks.) But no matter how good their storyline is, there's a greater story that each of our hearts yearns to hear, and it's the one Linus recited.
So as you pull out the stack of movies this Christmas season, challenge yourself to set aside some time and re-read the story from Luke. You won't be disappointed.
Showing posts with label movies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label movies. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
The Soloist
It's been three days since I saw The Soloist, and I can't get it off my mind. I'm not sure if that's the mark of a great movie or a guilty conscience. Maybe both.
I keep wondering if I had met musical genius Nathaniel Ayers on the street in LA (or my town), what would I have done? Would I have walked on by or would I have befriended him like journalist Steve Lopez?
I know the answer, and it's not the latter.
I think it nags at me because "my" homeless man Daniel was chased away from the street corner where he made his home. He wasn't always sober, but he didn't impose on people. He took food if offered, but I never once saw him ask anyone for anything other than a light for a cigarette. But someone told him he had to move his knapsack and find a new "home."
Probably to a place where he would fit in better. With other people like him.
But what if that's not what he wanted? Or what if he couldn't handle it?
The movie stresses that medicine and homes aren't really the answer. Instead, it's about relationships--ones that aren't particularly easy.
Similar to those taking place in Waco under I-35 where The Church Under The Bridge meets. When their pastor came to speak to my church earlier this year, he described the church body whom he serves. It's not your typical congregation; after all, how could any church that meets under I-35 be "typical"? He showed pictures of those who lead worship, many of whom share many characteristics with Nathaniel. And yet, they aren't turned away but are welcome to be part of that community. Despite their behavior. Despite their clothes. Despite their past.
I pray that my heart would be changed as a result of what I've seen and heard. Because with anywhere from 700,000 to 2 million people homeless each night, this issue isn't going away any time soon.
I keep wondering if I had met musical genius Nathaniel Ayers on the street in LA (or my town), what would I have done? Would I have walked on by or would I have befriended him like journalist Steve Lopez?
I know the answer, and it's not the latter.
I think it nags at me because "my" homeless man Daniel was chased away from the street corner where he made his home. He wasn't always sober, but he didn't impose on people. He took food if offered, but I never once saw him ask anyone for anything other than a light for a cigarette. But someone told him he had to move his knapsack and find a new "home."
Probably to a place where he would fit in better. With other people like him.
But what if that's not what he wanted? Or what if he couldn't handle it?
The movie stresses that medicine and homes aren't really the answer. Instead, it's about relationships--ones that aren't particularly easy.
Similar to those taking place in Waco under I-35 where The Church Under The Bridge meets. When their pastor came to speak to my church earlier this year, he described the church body whom he serves. It's not your typical congregation; after all, how could any church that meets under I-35 be "typical"? He showed pictures of those who lead worship, many of whom share many characteristics with Nathaniel. And yet, they aren't turned away but are welcome to be part of that community. Despite their behavior. Despite their clothes. Despite their past.
I pray that my heart would be changed as a result of what I've seen and heard. Because with anywhere from 700,000 to 2 million people homeless each night, this issue isn't going away any time soon.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Bold Pursuit
Some people will do anything for money. Some people will do anything for love. It's an interesting correlation, no?
So what happens when you somehow blend the two together with the backdrop of Who Wants to Be a Millionaire set in India? You get the unforgettable story told in the movie Slumdog Millionaire.
I knew the movie had been nominated for numerous awards within the Hollywood realm. That alone didn't persuade me to see the movie because my tastes don't usually agree with the critics' tastes. But after hearing friends' rave reviews, I gave in.
But they failed to warn me that the story is hard. It's more than hard; it's brutal. There were times when I wanted to leave the theater because I didn't want to have to watch the main character relive parts of his life. I wasn't emotionally prepared for the physical, mental, and emotional trauma that he went through. And yet I hung on.
The writing compelled me to. And though I'm sure it sounds a bit awkward to mention "writing" when talking about a movie, that's exactly what it was. The beginning and end are tied together seamlessly, and the flashbacks throughout are flawless.
And the great thing about a story that is filled with such darkness is that when the light shows through--and without giving anything away, it eventually does--it shines brighter than if the whole story had been filled with it.
I highly recommend seeing Slumdog Millionaire, and before it's over, you'll see what is being boldly pursued.
So what happens when you somehow blend the two together with the backdrop of Who Wants to Be a Millionaire set in India? You get the unforgettable story told in the movie Slumdog Millionaire.
I knew the movie had been nominated for numerous awards within the Hollywood realm. That alone didn't persuade me to see the movie because my tastes don't usually agree with the critics' tastes. But after hearing friends' rave reviews, I gave in.
But they failed to warn me that the story is hard. It's more than hard; it's brutal. There were times when I wanted to leave the theater because I didn't want to have to watch the main character relive parts of his life. I wasn't emotionally prepared for the physical, mental, and emotional trauma that he went through. And yet I hung on.
The writing compelled me to. And though I'm sure it sounds a bit awkward to mention "writing" when talking about a movie, that's exactly what it was. The beginning and end are tied together seamlessly, and the flashbacks throughout are flawless.
And the great thing about a story that is filled with such darkness is that when the light shows through--and without giving anything away, it eventually does--it shines brighter than if the whole story had been filled with it.
I highly recommend seeing Slumdog Millionaire, and before it's over, you'll see what is being boldly pursued.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
The Culture Continues
Now that I'm back in the city, I'm continuing to "get cultured."
A friend recommended the new romantic comedy P.S. I Love You. That same friend made it sound like I was going to laugh myself silly because she mentioned that Harry Connick, Jr. had some pretty funny lines. Being a sucker for romantic comedies, I went to see it yesterday.
I think I only laughed at a few lines. I spent the rest of the time digging through my purse for Kleenexes and making sure that my throat hadn't swollen shut. I don't think I've cried through an entire movie like that before. (The only one that might come close is Man Without A Face, which I did not see in the theater.) The gist of P.S. I Love You is sweet, but I think it has been mislabeled as a "romantic comedy." I would have enjoyed it more if I had watched it in the privacy of my own home with a full box of Kleenexes nearby.
Today, I finally made it to the last presentation of God's Trombones at a local theater. For those of you who are unfamiliar with God's Trombones, this particular production was conceived by Rudy Eastman and is described as a "classic holiday celebration based on the Negro sermon poems by James Weldon Johnson."
I was hooked from the moment I stepped into the intimate theater, and it only got better from there. I sat beside the lead actress's grandmother, who is one particularly proud (and entertaining) grandma. She attempted to dialogue with her granddaughter throughout the show and offered up resounding praise every time her granddaughter hit incredible notes. The "soulful" show lived up to its advertising: "a musical celebration that . . . lift[ed my] spirits and rocked [my] soul."
A friend recommended the new romantic comedy P.S. I Love You. That same friend made it sound like I was going to laugh myself silly because she mentioned that Harry Connick, Jr. had some pretty funny lines. Being a sucker for romantic comedies, I went to see it yesterday.
I think I only laughed at a few lines. I spent the rest of the time digging through my purse for Kleenexes and making sure that my throat hadn't swollen shut. I don't think I've cried through an entire movie like that before. (The only one that might come close is Man Without A Face, which I did not see in the theater.) The gist of P.S. I Love You is sweet, but I think it has been mislabeled as a "romantic comedy." I would have enjoyed it more if I had watched it in the privacy of my own home with a full box of Kleenexes nearby.
Today, I finally made it to the last presentation of God's Trombones at a local theater. For those of you who are unfamiliar with God's Trombones, this particular production was conceived by Rudy Eastman and is described as a "classic holiday celebration based on the Negro sermon poems by James Weldon Johnson."
I was hooked from the moment I stepped into the intimate theater, and it only got better from there. I sat beside the lead actress's grandmother, who is one particularly proud (and entertaining) grandma. She attempted to dialogue with her granddaughter throughout the show and offered up resounding praise every time her granddaughter hit incredible notes. The "soulful" show lived up to its advertising: "a musical celebration that . . . lift[ed my] spirits and rocked [my] soul."
Friday, December 28, 2007
A Rare Showing
Last night, an independent filmmaker treated our little town to a showing of his award-winning thesis movie, Doki-Doki, along with approximately twenty minutes of his award-winning upcoming feature, August Evening. The filmmaker, Chris Eska, grew up near my hometown and is the brother of my good friend from high school.
When we were growing up, Chris excelled in math classes and math competitions, so it surprised me when I learned that he was heading to UCLA Film School. But the same focus that he formerly dedicated to math has now spilled over into his movies, which he writes, directs, and edits.
His unique movies tell cultural stories about love and family. The stories are so compelling that the subtitles aren't a necessity but rather aid the audience in grasping some of the subtleties, like portions of the humor in Doki-Doki.
Chris showed the movies as part of a fundraiser for the community's learning center. And based on the well-attended showings, the community is clamoring for more cultural events like this one. Personally, I'm looking forward to seeing the full-length version of August Evening in theaters this spring.
When we were growing up, Chris excelled in math classes and math competitions, so it surprised me when I learned that he was heading to UCLA Film School. But the same focus that he formerly dedicated to math has now spilled over into his movies, which he writes, directs, and edits.
His unique movies tell cultural stories about love and family. The stories are so compelling that the subtitles aren't a necessity but rather aid the audience in grasping some of the subtleties, like portions of the humor in Doki-Doki.
Chris showed the movies as part of a fundraiser for the community's learning center. And based on the well-attended showings, the community is clamoring for more cultural events like this one. Personally, I'm looking forward to seeing the full-length version of August Evening in theaters this spring.
Sunday, June 3, 2007
Birth of a Blog
Though I haven’t given birth to a child, this first posting can be compared with nothing less than birthing. I have carried around ideas for months and have even written out several blog postings, but it is the writing of this debut posting that has given me such pains.
I feel this overwhelming need to make a good first impression. Consequently, for weeks now I have been changing the template of this blog (I believe the current one is actually the sixth incarnation); I have edited the links and the written material in the margins; and I have been struggling with what to put in this first posting. I’ve put such pressure on this first one, thinking that you might not stop back by again if it wasn’t full of pizzazz. I wanted everything to be pleasing and perfect for everyone who read this.
And then I saw the movie Copying Beethoven, and it was as if the character Beethoven was speaking directly to me: “See, in your work, you’re obsessed with structure, with choosing the correct form. You have to listen to the voice speaking inside of you. I didn’t even really hear it myself until I went deaf.” And to hopefully prevent having to endure deafness, I’ve decided to listen to the voice inside me and actually birth (i.e., transcribe) what it is saying.
And so I started writing this and thinking back to seeing pictures of minute-old babies straight from the womb, and I realized that just-birthed babies really aren’t all that cute. There’s a lot of cleanup and training to be done. But the baby is loved nonetheless. Because of whom he or she is. Not for anything that the child may or may not do in the future.
So, in that same vein, I hope that you will enjoy this blog simply for what it is--reflections from my daily life as I attempt to process what God is teaching me. I know that I need some cleanup of my own and hope that by writing more frequently both my writing and my ability to process life will improve.
Another of my hopes is that what I write will resonate with you on some level and maybe even cause you to ask God questions about what is going on in your life. However, I know that I can’t make you react a certain way, just as a parent can’t make a child act a certain way. Writing has its limitations because all writing is merely words strung together. And my words, in and of themselves, are not magical.
So maybe this is what it is like for parents--birthing a child, trying to do the cleanup but realizing your limitations, doing your best in spite of the limitations, and turning the rest over to God. And so shall I.
I hope you’ll join me during the process. Because who knows, this “baby” might just turn out to be the cutest thing that you’ve ever laid eyes on!
I feel this overwhelming need to make a good first impression. Consequently, for weeks now I have been changing the template of this blog (I believe the current one is actually the sixth incarnation); I have edited the links and the written material in the margins; and I have been struggling with what to put in this first posting. I’ve put such pressure on this first one, thinking that you might not stop back by again if it wasn’t full of pizzazz. I wanted everything to be pleasing and perfect for everyone who read this.
And then I saw the movie Copying Beethoven, and it was as if the character Beethoven was speaking directly to me: “See, in your work, you’re obsessed with structure, with choosing the correct form. You have to listen to the voice speaking inside of you. I didn’t even really hear it myself until I went deaf.” And to hopefully prevent having to endure deafness, I’ve decided to listen to the voice inside me and actually birth (i.e., transcribe) what it is saying.
And so I started writing this and thinking back to seeing pictures of minute-old babies straight from the womb, and I realized that just-birthed babies really aren’t all that cute. There’s a lot of cleanup and training to be done. But the baby is loved nonetheless. Because of whom he or she is. Not for anything that the child may or may not do in the future.
So, in that same vein, I hope that you will enjoy this blog simply for what it is--reflections from my daily life as I attempt to process what God is teaching me. I know that I need some cleanup of my own and hope that by writing more frequently both my writing and my ability to process life will improve.
Another of my hopes is that what I write will resonate with you on some level and maybe even cause you to ask God questions about what is going on in your life. However, I know that I can’t make you react a certain way, just as a parent can’t make a child act a certain way. Writing has its limitations because all writing is merely words strung together. And my words, in and of themselves, are not magical.
So maybe this is what it is like for parents--birthing a child, trying to do the cleanup but realizing your limitations, doing your best in spite of the limitations, and turning the rest over to God. And so shall I.
I hope you’ll join me during the process. Because who knows, this “baby” might just turn out to be the cutest thing that you’ve ever laid eyes on!
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