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Archive for January, 2009

The Sum Of All Flaws

Last week I got a new pair of glasses.  It seems that my right eye is no longer strong enough to focus and read print on its own (lazy little twerp), and I need the specs so my poor left eye doesn’t get all burned out picking up the slack.  Perhaps this balances out my birth defect of a deaf left ear, which makes me appear to be ignoring people on my left side.  Also, great multimedia presentations are pretty much wasted on me.

Add to that my growing bald spot, a receding gum line that further exposes more than a few cavities, and skin that still likes to sprout the occasional pimple just as much as it loves to bleed almost every time I shave, and my critics have a great new bit of canon fodder: truly, nothing in my head works right.

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The MentalistI recently read a movie review that pronounced the death of PG-13 comedies starring unusual characters and the rise of the raunchy, R-rated adult comedy. That may be true in theaters, but on the TV screens of America’s homes, the unusual character is stronger than ever.

Think House, think Monk, think Grissom on CSI, or any of a ton of other unique personality-driven shows. Last season, I was impressed by the savant-like quality of the innocently antisocial Sheldon on The Big Bang Theory, but now the crown for best new character goes back to a drama.

Patrick Jane is a great character.  Though the advertising for The Mentalist sells him as a latter-day Sherlock Holmes, his powers of observation take a back seat to the sheer audacity of his harmless brashness.  Simon Baker as Jane is instantly likable, but in the way a politician or car salesman is: you know you’re being manipulated by a pro, but they’re just so good at it you don’t care. 

As the season has gone on, however, Jane’s back story has added a compelling depth to the character.  It’s not just Jane’s cheesy megawatt smirk that endears us to him, it’s his apparent struggle to keep up his life in the wake of the tragic murder of his family, and then it’s moments of pure surprise that end up fitting into that frame perfectly that keep us fascinated by this new man in our head. 

In one episode, Jane gives voice to what we had just been led to wonder about him when he looks at his superior and says, bluntly but totally without malice, that when he finds his family’s killer he’s going to do to him what the killer did to them.  It would have been chilling had it not sounded so reasonable, put so easily out in the light like that.  Jane makes revenge seem not only reasonable, but nice.

However, that same episode revealed a possible weakness of the show.  The camera likes to do our work for us.  When Jane is looking around for details inside the trailer of a mentally challenged man who might be involved in a murder, we zoom in on a copy of Moby Dick hidden on a closet shelf.  Hmmm.  That’s not right, we think.  What’s a mentally retarded man doing with Moby Dick?  Of course, the suspect is faking it, but we already knew that–isn’t that the only logical explanation for the book?

Also in that December episode, another suspect gets locked in a barn and appears to be threatened by a shadowy figure who might be a murder victim who survived.  The figure’s approach even closes an act and leads to a commercial break.  Naturally, we know that the figure is actually Jane in disguise, tricking the suspect into a confession, if only because it doesn’t make narrative sense to have such a long, key scene late in an episode leave out the main character. 

Hopefully such stumbles won’t become par for the course in what is becoming such an intriguing story.  Last night’s episode made me want to know more about the “Red John” story arc, and it ended on a solidly Holmesian note: a brief, taunting phone call is made to Jane from an unknown location, which he immediately figures out is a hotel in Tijuana.  His clues–the noise in the background (indicating the thin walls of a hotel) and the villain’s access to a phone, among others, are undeniably clever.  (I’d add that the bad guy also ended his call with “Vaya con Dios,” and since he has no apparent Hispanic background himself, it makes sense to think that he was calling from a location where he was surrounded by a Spanish influence.  But that’s neither here nor there.)

Such quick bits of observational derring-do, and the even more present employment of little psychological tricks to get people to say and do what he wants, make Jane a detective to keep our eyes on, and a character to keep our minds sharp. 

And maybe this will be just the thing we need to bring vests back in style.

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As in worshipping a false idol.

Several years ago, a mother and daughter came into my school office for help resolving a conflict: mom wanted her daughter to go to BYU, and the daughter just wanted to go to a school as far away as possible, a school that was not BYU.  Mom’s argument was simply that BYU was where you send your kids so that they’ll finish growing up spiritually safe.  I didn’t overtly contradict her naive perception, but I definitely worked them towards a compromise. 

Her simplistic devotion to what she’d assumed BYU stands for is not an individual error: it is a deep-seated error in thinking among the Latter-day Saints that BYU is not only a special school but a better school, and the one for which good Mormon kids and families should strive. 

In the earliest days of the Church, converts were encouraged to gather into the main body of the population, but as the 20th century progressed, “the First Presidency specifically admonished the missionaries to cease preaching emigration; the converts in foreign countries could do more to build the kingdom if they would remain in their own lands.” (“Growing With A Living Church,” Arnold K. Garr, Ensign, October 1996).  Or, as Bruce R. McConkie put it, “we have gathered, from their Egyptian bondage as it were, the dispersed of Ephraim and a few others, initially to the mountains of America, but now into the stakes of Zion in the various nations of the earth.” 

If that principle is true of where we physically build our homes and raise our families, why would some assume that it isn’t true of where we send our children to school?  Where does anyone find in the teachings of any Church leader–anywhere–ever–the idea that righteous families should set BYU as the goal for their children?  Has the Church set up and sustained an awe-inspiring system of global Institutes of Religion at hundreds of college campuses because they would prefer people to ignore them? 

(more…)

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20196981This was the third Italian film I’ve seen, after Life Is Beautiful and The Bicycle ThiefIl Postino is certainly more like the former: a simple, realistic, yet elementally uplifting love story about the persistence of joy. 

I actually confused this film with a terrible American movie that’s also called The Postman (a travesty starring Kevin Costner about which we shall never speak again), so when I heard that it was a wonderful romantic comedy, I was hesitant.  Still, I saw it at the library and had some time to kill, so…

Everything about Il Postino is beautiful and sweet.  Its puppy-love devotion to the poetry of Pablo Neruda makes Dead Poets Society seem like a monochrome grade school film strip, and while all the acting is fine, the earnest, shy mail carrier that this story follows is an original creation, totally engrossing to watch.  His growing friendship with accidental mentor Neruda makes yet another Hollywood screed look flimsy by comparison: I’d be surprised if the makers of Finding Forrester didn’t study Il Postino and botch their rip-off.  That lead actor, Mossimo Troisi, actually delayed heart surgery to finish this film, and died of a fatal heart attack less than a day after shooting wrapped up.  He was 41.  Tragic, but a fitting legacy for any thespian.

It didn’t bother me that the frequent appearance of communism in the plot was in a positive light (or, at least, not an explicitly negative one).  The postman’s innocence was easily swayed by Neruda’s charisma, and if anything, that angle of the plot added a somber, reflective climax to the story. 

As is often the case for me with foreign film, the laconic photography of lush landscapes was the true star of the show.  This film worships Italy not just in its richness of language and spirit, but in its setting and music as well.  In fact, as I watched this film, I was reminded of one of my favorite television moments ever: the episode of Everybody Loves Raymond where the family goes to Italy and Ray complains about everything, until he spends a few minutes wandering around a local street by himself.  In a few heartfelt vignettes, he feels how magical this rustic, bucolic slice of heaven is; and as he experiences this minor epiphany, the gentlest of Mediterranean melodies floats around in the air. 

I thought that just came to mind because of the Italian setting.  As I tried to find that clip online, however, I found out why it had really sprung up: the music in that scene is the score from the movie Il Postino

By the way, according to the website for television station TBS, that episode of Everybody Loves Raymond will be airing again on Friday the 23rd of this month.

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