"American Idol" runner up Katherine McPhee may have thought the controversy surrounding her appearance in the final two instead of hugely popular rocker Chris Daughtry was going to be the most difficult moment of competing on the hit reality show. But that was before the rumors started swirling this past week about Katherine McPhee’s possible involvement in Scientology.
Was there an agenda behind Priscilla Presley's meeting with McPhee at Graceland? Was TomKat possibly responsible for the alleged irregular voting the week Chris Daughtry, the previous "Idol" favorite, went home?
No. During an exclusive interview on "Larry King Live" last weekend, McPhee rather defensively answered some questions about the rumors by saying she dabbled in Scientology only because of an ex-boyfriend. McPhee began her explanation by saying she was "young and I’m still finding my way in the world." She went on to explain that because she started dating someone approximately a year ago who was involved with Scientology, she decided to enroll in a couple of classes (she added vaguely that she did "other things" while experimenting with the religion as well)--only to later decide she no longer wanted to be affiliated with Scientology.
I guess that means the only thing scarier than a critique from Simon Cowell is a "purification rundown" --a common ritual among other celeb Scientologists.
If you’re like me, the worlds of spiritual reflection and cultural relevance often meet at Starbucks, where I go for anything from solitude and reflection time to business meetings or reunions with friends. So I’m a Starbucks lover, but I’m not sure I’m ready for its latest move.
Several major publications have recently reported on Starbucks’ intention to make a deeper dent into our cultural direction and our personal decisions. “Starbucks is changing what we eat and drink. It's altering where and when we work and play. It's shaping how we spend time and money. That's just for appetizers,” says USA Today. “Starbucks has an even glitzier goal: to help rewrite society's pop culture menu.”
“The company recently announced an alliance with the William Morris Agency, a talent and literary agency that will help Starbucks identify music, film, and book projects to consider for marketing and distribution in its stores,” offers The Washington Times.
And they’re not just floating the idea: They already have licensing agreements “with most of the major record labels that will give it the ability to offer everything from Britney Spears and The Polyphonic Spree to Yo-Yo Ma and Ray Charles,” reports Business Week. “Chairman Howard Schultz, sitting casually in his office near a photo of him arm-in-arm with Mick Jagger (said), ‘Our customers have given us permission to extend the experience.’"
I don’t know about you, but I haven’t given my permission. I find myself unsure of whether I want Starbucks to be a convenient marketplace or a break from it. I can handle, "Would you like a muffin or a bagel today?” or “Would you like to sample our latest coffee?” I’m not sure I’m ready for, “Can I get you a CD or DVD with your coffee today?” I think I want a break from being sold on something.
Says the USA Today article: “Schultz says Starbucks still has to earn its stripes as tastemaker. Much as it would like to become an ‘editor’ of culture, he says, ‘one of the great strengths of Starbucks is our humility.’
That’s a nice branding soundbite, but I think Starbucks is showing more pride than humility. I’m curious to see how it goes.
Whether she’s kissing Madonna, marrying a childhood friend in Vegas, or filming her own so-awful-it's-funny reality show, Britney Spears never fails to make for great sound bites and magazine covers. But, for me, the high points of my Britney fascination have been the ones connected to religion.
Britney was raised Southern Baptist, and she talked often in the press about wanting to adhere to its moral tenets, like waiting until marriage to have sex. Next up was Kabbalah, which Brit got interested in thanks to her friend and idol Madonna. More recently, paparazzi snapped photos of Britney taking her newborn son Sean Preston to get a Hindu blessing. There were even rumors of her getting involved with Scientology. Not long afterward, she publicly announced that she was done with Kabbalah because “her son was her religion.”
Like Madonna, Brit seems to know that you can never go wrong with some religious controversy, especially when you need to get the heat off of your personal life. And she’s had a lot of heat in the last few weeks, as she and hubby Kevin Federline have allegedly separated and she has been investigated by the L.A. Department of Child Services. How does a girl cope? If she’s Britney, she posts a poem on her Web site. It’s a free-form “buzz off” to someone (Federline?) peppered with Biblical references like this one:
You come to me now Why do you bother? Remember the Bible The sins of the Father. What you do You pass down No wonder why I lost my crown.
Illegible rhyme scheme aside, is Britney using Biblical references to give insight into her psyche? Are the “sins of the Father” metaphorical, or is she dissing Federline’s parenting skills?
Later on, she writes,“My crown is back / And it's way too high.” This could be an allusion to Jesus’ Crown of Thorns and an indication of her own personal torment. Or she could be talking about her hair, since the Bible refers to a woman’s hair as her “crowning glory.” If Britney worships her son, perhaps she sees him as Jesus and herself as the Virgin Mary, complete with halo, as if she's in a Renaissance painting. But that's just my own speculation, of course. Maybe it's all just a clever way to compare herself to her idol, Madonna, instead of the actual Madonna.
Regardless of what my BA in English and I might think of Britney’s literary efforts, I appreciate that she’s trying to deal with her feelings in verse. And I’m looking forward to her next religious incarnation. Has she tried Mormonism yet?
"Peaceful Warrior"--the movie version of the novel, "Way of the Peaceful Warrior," written by former Olympic gymnast turned bestselling author Dan Millman--hits theaters up and down the West Coast this weekend. (Over the course of June, it will make its way East as well. To watch some clips from the movie, click here.)
As a former serious gymnast myself, I was impressed with the fact that "Peaceful Warrior" faces head on the fears--both real and psychological--that gymnasts struggle with, especially as they move higher up the competition scale. Olympics TV broadcasts often glorify gymnastics, sensationalizing the extreme disappointments and the exciting and unexpected successes (especially of the women), but fail to truly explore the mind games competitive gymnasts face on a regular basis. It is not uncommon for gymnasts to conjure up all sorts of demons regarding especially difficult moves, as is the case in the movie, where viewers are privy to the nightmares Dan (the main character) has about his routines on the rings.
I remember vividly the fears I associated with particular flips on the beam; with the enormous concentration needed for vaults; and with hitting the spring board just right, to get enough height. I remember playing these moves over and over in my mind, imagining myself crashing in all sorts of horrible ways--in a manner similar to the visions Dan has of himself falling from the rings and mangling his body.
In my case, as the mind games got overly intense and the fears grew too enormous to withstand, I eventually quit. Yet the plot of "Peaceful Warrior" turns instead on Dan's chance encounter with a man at a local gas station whom he learns to call Socrates (played by Nick Nolte). Socrates teaches him how to quell the demons with Eastern philosophy and a range of Zen meditation techniques (which sometimes come off rather "Karate Kid"-like).
Through Dan's relationship with this mysterious man who doles out wisdom left and right--such as, "You are not who you think you are"--to a confused and, at first, resistant Dan, Dan learns to master his fears, become the moves of his routines, and overcome a potential identity crisis involving the loss of his Olympic dream and his future as a gymnast. The movie is ultimately of the inspirational genre, yet rather than have it turn on the simple theme of "the comeback," it explores the notion of becoming spiritually centered as foundational to the possibility of a comeback.
Be warned: Viewers may cringe at the inevitable and rather corny allusions to "The Karate Kid," as well as the familiar, cliched philosopher-sage advice continually emerging from the mouth of Socrates. (It gets a bit over the top). But the way the film develops the relationship between becoming spiritually centered and finding success in life--particularly in sports (and most specifically, gymnastics)--is intriguing nonetheless. The story is sure to have athletes, both former and current, reflecting on their own self-conjured mind games and demons, and whether Eastern philosophy and meditative practices might be helpful in conquering these common psychological struggles in the world of competitive sports.
Several Sundays ago I surprised myself: Instead of settling into my Sunday night ritual of watching a new episode of the Sopranos, I kept the TV set to off. I told myself I'd watch it "On Demand" the next day or sometime that next week, but the week passed, another Sunday arrived, and I'd yet to catch up. Again I told myself I would watch both episodes later, but again didn't end up choosing to make the time. And it's not like I felt I was missing something, either. That second Sunday--one of the TV nights I had most looked forward to because of the new episodes of "Sopranos"--I realized that I simply didn't want to be put through another episode.
For me, watching "The Sopranos" had become a stressful and upsetting experience--and not stressful-fun, as is often the case with a show like "24," but all-too-depressing and ever-more disturbing. The character of Tony Soprano, who in past seasons held onto some semblance of a moral character, started this season seeming to show moral promise after his near-death experience, but then he simply launched into a downward spiral from there (though he had one rather heroic moment of resisting yet another adulterous relationship due to his promise to Carmela). Paulie seems to get ever more ruthless, as does the once sympathetic, youthful Christopher. And one plotline seems to forever foreshadow the hunting down and ultimate execution of one mafia head--Vito Spatafore--who was outed as gay. I just can't take it any more.
After all my months of catching up on five seasons of "The Sopranos" in order to be ready for the new one this March, we're now not even halfway through the 12 episodes, and I've given it up. And my Sundays are happier for it.
After nearly three decades out of the musical spotlight, Yusuf Islam--formerly known as Cat Stevens--is back with the promise of a new album. Inspired by growing tensions between his beloved religion and the West, the singer-songwriter will be releasing a collection of songs that he originally worked on 20 years ago, according to the BBC.
The new album will be released on the 40th anniversary of Islam’s first record, “I Love My Dog,” which came out in November, 1966.
After he converted to Islam and changed his name in 1977, Yusuf Islam dropped out of the music world and became involved with London’s Muslim community by becoming a teacher and founding a popular Islamic school. Since his conversion, Islam had released several albums of spoken word and religious music (some of which I have and love).
He re-released his hit “Peace Train” in opposition to the Iraq war and has consistently spoken out against Islamic extremists as being contradictory to the peaceful nature of the religion. I can’t help but think his activity on this issue inadvertently led to the strange incident in 2004 when the U.S. refused his entry to this country (when he was coming to receive a peace award from a group of Nobel Peace Laureates) on grounds that he was “a threat to national security.”
So why, after so long, is Islam returning to popular music? In his true humble style, Islam told The Independent that “there were 100 reasons for leaving the music industry, not least because I had found what I was looking for spiritually. Today there are perhaps one hundred and one good reasons why I feel right making music and singing about life in this fragile world again."
The end of the eight-year run of the WB's "Charmed" also marked the passing of a programming trend that began in the mid-late 90s, Wicca and witches. The proliferation of this particular primetime paganism--or rather, this artistic approximation of paganism--began with ABC’s "Sabrina the Teenage Witch" in 1996. Based on the Archie comic book series, Sabrina (played by Melissa Joan Hart) her two bachelorette, witch aunts, and ex-wizard cat, Salem, found themselves in many a zany situation thanks to miscast spells and improper potions.
A year later, “Felicity” and “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” jumped on board, featuring more realistic Wiccan characters. Sure, Felicity’s roommate Meghan was a bit odd and “Buffy’s” Willow would later turn evil and try to destroy the world, but both these characters were portrayed practicing Wicca as a craft and not casting crazy spells to save the prom.
These girls with power mirrored the larger "Girl Power" zeitgeist of the mid-late '90s. Uberproducer Aaron Spelling took the broomstick and flew with it, so to speak. In 1998, “Charmed” debuted to huge numbers and would remain popular. The Sisters Halliwell--originally Pru, Piper, and Phoebe,later Piper, Phoebe, and Paige--were known as the "Charmed" ones, witches who have special abilities dubbed "the power of three."
And while the show took artistic, action-driven license, it also provided a decent representation of a belief system not often portrayed on television. Reviewer Wren Walker noted that while warlocks don't actually try to steal witches' powers, "The pronunciations were good, the tools were explained well, and some ethical considerations were mentioned. The altars looked messy enough to be real--I guess not even Hollywood magick do anything about wax drippings--and the sisters wore-gasp!-regular clothing even when casting spells!"
More importantly however, the gals of "Charmed" cast a spell over the audiences making their eight-year run the longest running show with all female leads. Now that's Girl Power!
Discrimination. Genetic engineering. The Federal government invading private citizens' privacy. What has made the "X-Men" comic books and their recent adaptations on the big screen (“X-Men,” “X-Men United”) better than the average superhero-action-adventure fare is the way the mythology and backstory of these genetic mutants with supernatural capabilities manages to address serious issues that are spiritually and culturally relevant.
The pursuit of tolerance and truth continues this weekend with the opening of “X-Men: The Last Stand,” the third and (supposedly) final chapter in the film series. In the film, Wolverine (Hugh Jackman) and the rest of the mutants once again defend humanity against the evil Magneto, even while they themselves are the victims of hatred and bigotry--but this time with a twist. The X-Men are unexpectedly presented with an opportunity to become “normal.”
With the help the latest recruits, The Beast and Angel (one has apelike strength and one has wings), the X-Men face the resurrection of a former teammate turned foe, Jean Grey. Possessed with the cosmic power of the Dark Phoenix, Jean Grey is now a force of evil and destruction. In an attempt to save the world one more time, the X-Men accidentally discover a potential cure that would treat--and ultimately eliminate --genetic mutations. Gone would be the X-Men’s outcast status, but gone, too, would be their superpowers. By morphing into the ordinary, the X-Men realize that world peace may be possible--or not--but their own identity and purpose would be potentially lost forever.
Sound like a lot for a “popcorn” movie to take on? Well, it is. There are truly fascinating moments worthy of discussion in this film, but they are often buried under the onslaught of spectacular special effects. National landmarks are blown-up and fight sequence after fight sequence overshadows the important ideas that are given only sound-byte lip service sporadically throughout the story. There is also a lot of low-brow humor that betrays the charm of Wolverine and some of the other mutants, which was evident in the previous films.
In spite of “The Last Stand’s” shortcomings, I still recommend the film, and I don’t think die-hard "X Men" fans will be too disappointed. Any movie that dares ask you to think about how you can be kinder to others--while you are watching bridges and buildings being blown to bits--beats out that other blockbuster movie about some albino monk beating himself up over a convolated conspiracy any day.
Fans of all things magical and related to Harry Potter will be happy to know scientists are hard at work turning Harry's famous invisibility cloak--the one that allows him to maraud about Hogwarts undetected by the likes of Snape and Mr. Filch--from pure fantasy into reality.
Skeptical are you? Have a little faith!
Andrew Bridges of the Associated Press reports in an article called "Harry Potter-like Invisibility Cloak Theoretically Possible" that scientists are busy "laying out a blueprint for turning science fiction into reality" and that "nothing's stopping them from making such a cloak"--at least in theory. They are still working out the bugs for the materials necessary.
How does it work then? All you need are a few "exotic materials with an ability to steer light and other forms of electromagnetic radiation around a cloaked object, rendering it as invisible as something tucked into a hole in space," writes Bridges. "Instead, like a river streaming around a smooth boulder, light and all other forms of electromagnetic radiation would strike the cloak and simply flow around it, continuing on as if it never bumped up against an obstacle. That would give an onlooker the apparent ability to peer right through the cloak, with everything tucked inside concealed from view."
Sounds pretty amazing, but as to whether it is practical everyday wear, physicist John Pendry told Bridges, "To be realistic, it's going to be fairly thick. Cloak is a misnomer. 'Shield' might be more appropriate."
“But what about my friends?” In between all of the revelations about the hatch--I mean, hatches--and the return of Desmond, the guy the island survivors found in the hatch, it was still that line--spoken by roly-poly Hurley--that moved me the most as I watched the season finale of “Lost.”As Michael betrayed his friends by contributing to their capture by the evil, mysterious people known as "the Others" in exchange for his son, Walt, only Hurley was released by the Others with an order to return to camp and warn the rest of the castaways not to rescue their friends.
With so much being made of Jack and Locke as rivals for leadership over the motley assortment of survivors, the writers of “Lost” cleverly introduced a new savior figure into the plot--and he weighs about 300 pounds, loves ranch dressing. and was once in a psychiatric facility. Yes, it is now up to the insecure, down-on-his-luck--even if he did win the lottery back home--Hurley to figure out how to save Locke, Jack, Sawyer, and Kate from torture and possibly even death.. Though we won’t known for sure until next season, with this new twist to the “Lost” saga, I believe fans of the show can look forward to seeing Hurley join the likes of such great characters as Frodo Baggins from "Lord of The Rings" as he fulfills his hero's quest and evolves from an innocent fool to warrior and defender.
As promised in all the hype about the season finale of “Lost,” obsessed viewers learned the following: What happens when the "save the world" counter stops at zero... and the buttons aren't pushed.
At the beginning of Season Two, Locke is still in his born-again phase of faith. He is bright-eyed, open minded, and idealistic. The hatch is his church and everything is part of the grand design of Fate. Shouldering the responsibility of savior, Locke argues for continuing to push the buttons while Jack, the cynical "atheist," argues against.
Throughout the season, Locke’s faith is tested… and it slowly wanes. His faith is lackluster against Mr. Eko’s religious fanaticism. When Locke meets Henry Gale, Locke becomes a psychologically tortured savior. Henry is Satan on the mountaintop, testing Jesus. When Locke discovers the Pearl (the hatch with TV monitors), he faces the ultimate test of faith: Is the counter a hoax or just another part of the island's master plan? Having battled against Henry Gale and been temporarily "crucified" under steel doors, Locke decides to abandon his faith in the island. He becomes Jack, the rational man. In his new role, he lets the counter run to zero and enlists Desmond's help to do so.
After Desmond and Locke force Mr. Eko (the Locke stand-in) outside of the counter room, they wait. When the counter begins winding down to zero, Locke still nurtures his "atheistic" belief that nothing will happen. Meanwhile, as Desmond slowly realizes the counter is real, he searches for the key that will save the hatch, and the world. Even after Desmond scoffs at Locke's initial ideas of Fate bringing him to the hatch, Desmond assumes the role of world savior and tells Locke: “Now it’s my turn to save you.” For someone who claims to not to believe in Fate, he realizes perhaps too late, that Fate is real.
Locke, meanwhile, is Doubting Thomas, unwilling to believe disaster until he has faced it—and when confronted with it, can only say: “I was wrong.” In the end, the hatch becomes the tomb of multiple saviors—the ultimate savior being Desmond (whose fate is unknown after saving the island), Mr. Eko (who fails trying to stop the countdown), and Locke (who may or may not rise from his faithless stupor and become born-again…again). There is hope for one or all three (a number signifying the trinity) to rise again—and to reconnect with their faith.
Once upon a time, the Indianapolis 500 was as American as, well, as NASCAR and Bible Belt Christianity. This weekend's 500 is as loud, fast, and potentially lethal as any stock-car event, but the open-wheel racers of the Indy Racing League circuit are an elite, relatively cosmopolitan set--equestrians to NASCAR's rodeo cowpokes—and the top qualifiers include a Brazilian Catholic, and a Brit about whose denomination this week's Christian Science Monitor's story on faith at the 500 is suspiciously silent.
But the Monitor makes clear that NASCAR doesn't hold a monopoly on monotheism. Though pit-side prayer meetings are not common, the circuit does have an official chaplain who arranges for services for the racers in their venues around the world. And where three dozen cars go into a turn at 180 m.p.h., there are guaranteed to be few aetheists. "I find myself really leaning hard on my relationship with God," one competitor tells the Monitor. Sam Hornish, who holds the pole position for Sunday's race, says that as a child he considered becoming a minister.
For parents who strive to get to church on time each week, however, the best insight into Hornish's calling comes when he also notes that his family attended a church 30 miles away from their home. That, ladies and gentlemen, is how race-car drivers are made.
It's a good thing Idol Chatter didn't wait until its long-awaited Solomon Islands vacation to see "The Da Vinci Code." The N.Y. Times reports that the small Pacific nation plans to ban the controversial movie... even though there are no movie theaters in the entire country.
It's comforting to know that, should some entrepreneur suddenly see a business opportunity in the cinema-deprived Solomon Islands and quickly open a theater, the country's 500,000 residents (97% of whom are Christian) will be protected against any inclinations this savvy business person might have to launch his venture with Ron Howard's little art-house flick as its first feature.
I heard a sermon on Broadway last night, and it wasn't in the nearby Church of Scientology. It is the opening scene of the Pulitzer Prize-winning "Doubt," and it sets the tone for a powerful play that poses the questions: How far do we go in the pursuit of righting a (perceived) wrong? How do we balance our own inner certainty with an always-more-ambiguous reality?
The setting was the 1960s, but the scenario was achingly contemporary: At a Catholic grade school, a nun suspects a young priest of abusing at least one student. No doubt about what to do there, right? Protect the boy, do whatever it takes to separate the priest from his victims and potential victims. But it's not so simple. The play sets up two alternate narratives, each with its holes but both equally plausible.
The first: A popular priest gets too close with a student and takes advantage of a boy who is in need of attention and love, especially from a male role model. A slick-talker, he's been in trouble before, but managed to weasel out, and get transferred to a new parish without his new community knowing a thing. And in his new position, like his old one, the church hierarchy handles complaints by asking the accused whether it's true and believing his denials. Faced with an institution unwilling to act, the individual must step up and do what she can to protect the children.
The second: It is normal--necessary--for a priest to befriend his flock members and to take a special interest in the needs of those shunned by friends or facing difficult, even abusive, family situations. Parishioners and school children can flourish if treated with warmth, friendliness, and a casual approachability, in contrast to the strict, aloof, law-and-order authority figures of past generations. Discipline must sometimes take a back seat to pity, and every gesture of compassion and friendship cannot be subject to dark scrutiny--or else the priest will feel a need to back off, leaving his charges confused, hurt, and vulnerable.
Which narrative is true? Caught in the middle of two strong personalities--the accuser and the accused--a young, naive nun switches beliefs in response to the stronger argument of the moment, and hopes more than anything for peace to return. My wife and I both agreed that through the play's first half, the story didn't present enough ambiguity, failing to achieve its titular doubt--but she thought Narrative 1 was obviously true, while I thought #2 was the clear winner. So maybe doubt was achieved after all.
I was sad to hear that this play is closing soon on Broadway, but New York's loss is the rest of America's gain: it's hitting the road for a national tour. "Doubt" is a "Crucible" for our times--a plea to refrain from witchhunts, even in the pursuit of an unambiguously correct goal, and a reminder to question our own beliefs and motives at all times and not let ego and personal feelings get in the way of our morality.
"In the pursuit of wrongdoing, we take a step away from God," the suspicious nun says twice. In one instance, she follows that remark up by saying, "But it's in His service." At another, she repeats the line but follows it with, "Of course there's a price to pay." We'd do well to remember both of those sentiments.
It's happened to me many times—a mind-blowing coincidence will occur, and I'll think, "If this happened in a movie or a book, it would be totally corny and unbelievable." Which is why it takes such great skill to make coincidence unfold in fiction with authentic, goosebump-giving ease. This skill was sorely necessary in making the long-awaited film rendition of the novel "The Celestine Prophecy," James Redfield's bestselling (five million copies and counting) new age bible that revolves around notions of synchronicity, energy fields, and our overall cosmic connectedness.
Like "The Da Vinci Code," on paper Celestine was never known for its literary genius. But it was beloved for the way it named and played out new age spiritual beliefs in succinct, applicable ways. The allegorical adventure tale followed a school-teacher on his unlikely journey to Peru to help uncover and understand a manuscript that had been repressed and literally buried by the Catholic Church for hundreds of years. While there, he learned his way through the nine "insights" held in the scrolls, which included things like understanding "meaningful coincidences" as evidence of humanity's quickly accelerating consciousness; knowing that subtle energies connect people and the natural world; and relating in a way that responsibly manages that energy for everyone's good.
The screenplay, also written by Redfield, is relatively faithful to the book. An aloof teacher named John (woodenly played by a pretty, blank Matthew Settle) gets laid off, and meets up with an old girlfriend. She tells him about her recent trip to Peru, encouraging him to go because she thought of him the whole time she was there. She also works in an observation of his relationship issues: "You always want to have someone around because it makes you feel good," she says, "but it doesn't work out because you're not really there."
Most of the dialogue is equally brain-smashingly obvious. Then the coincidences begin in full: John goes home that night and a Peru brochure is mixed in with his other mail; he doesn't see it yet, but a zooming, lingering camera makes sure we do. He discovers it the next day as he's using a phone book to look up a travel agency (do either still exist outside of Hollywood?), while his decidedly current-day computer is sitting right there. And we hear him say to the agent, "Cancellation? Tomorrow? I'll take it."
Though the handling of synchronicity is blown, what the movie does better than the book are the scenes in Peru that show auras in action. We first see them as John hits on fellow scroll-studier Marjorie (Sarah Wayne Callies)—his reddish energy bubble starts trying to take over her energy bubble. Marjorie quickly runs off, and bewildered, John asks his guide, Julia, played by Annabeth Gish (of "Mystic Pizza" fame) what he did wrong. "Remember the halos the old masters used to paint around their religious figures?" she asks. "It's the energy, John. You may not be conscious of it, but you were trying to take her energy. She could see it, and so could I."
Unfortunately, that's about as nifty as it gets (though the glowing plant-energy is pretty cool too). The rest is a preposterous unfolding of the insights, plus thriller-ish chases and violence by a church-fueled military. We're supposed to see a transformation in John as he groks the insights, but not even his hair appears to change as he runs through the jungle for days. As now proven by both "Da Vinci" and "Celestine," in book form it seems easier to overlook bad dialogue and poor character development to ferret out the juicy spiritual bits. The former is much harder to overlook—and the latter harder to seek—when the medium is a large, unforgiving
screen that needs to satisfy in a couple of hours.
It's generally a sign of a rock star's age--and fading relevance--when her fans are called "the faithful," even when the artist in question is the renegade Roman Catholic-turned-Kabbalist Madonna. At 47, the singer kicked off her latest world tour this week with an act patently designed to appeal to her die-hards, who like their irreverence adminstered with a little glitz. Halfway through her accustomed set of costume changes and simulated sex acts, Mrs. Ritchie performed her '80s hit "Live to Tell" while affixed to a mirrored cross and wearing a crown of thorns. "Just another day at the office for Madonna," yawned her hometown paper, London's Daily Mail.
Madonna once earned herself great notoriety, of course, by hashing out her none-too-original but flashily expressed feelings about Catholicism in her videos and stage shows. Once upon a time, before "The DaVinci Code," the Vatican condemned her "Like a Prayer" video, in which singer frolicked amid burning crosses and danced with a black Jesus. But in a time when the church is fending off claims that Jesus was married with children, and Christ is spurting blood like a geyser from the cross in Mel's "Passion," neither Jesus' sexuality nor his death retains much power to shock.
Her mock crucifixion's impact is doubtless diluted, too, by Madonna's own abandonment of Catholicism for Jewish mysticism. (Last night's show also included a shofar, the ritual ram's horn blown at the Jewish New Year.) Surely, one benefit of adopting Kabbalah is being rid one's lapsed-Catholic hangups--unless, as we begin to suspect, Madonna's martyrdom complex never had much to do with the church or Jesus. In an odd complement to her "Like a Virgin" number, slides of Madonna's broken bones, suffered in a fall from a horse, flashed behind her on a mammoth screen, like the relics of St. Madge. When you attain the rarified stratosphere Madonna operates in, who but Jesus can really feel your pain?
So while the Catholic League and Madonna's hometown state religion, the Church of England, have made their usual protests to her new show, their defense of the traditional cross feels off point. Asked an Anglican spokesman, "Is Madonna prepared to take on everything else that goes with wearing a crown of thorns?" Duh, dude, she totally already has!
Beliefnet editors receive dozens of books each week, some memorable, some not so much. Every once in a while, however, a book's back cover description is so arresting that it lingers in the mind for days. So it was with the Christian "socio-spiritual" fantasy novel "The Dogs of Snoqualmie," to be published this fall:
Snoqualmie, a valley east of Seattle, is the fertile setting for a new fiction trilogy from esteemed storyteller Calvin Miller, who adds a daring dash of fantasy to magnify his view of Christian truth.
In this first book of the trilogy, a soon-to-be-divorced Jewish psychiatrist is counseling a homophobic murderer who has trained his German Shepherd to kill. The next victim is to be a New Age feminist whose environmental pull has pushed the killer’s hot buttons. Amidst the drama, a demented priest and his wolf companion emerge as Christlike symbols who take these characters to the edge of faith, bringing forth a peaceable kingdom.
In order to fit in the two-hour season finale of "Lost" during prime time evening hours this Wednesday, ABC decided to pit the (also two-hour) series finale of "Alias" against the (also two-hour) season finale of Fox's "24" tonight.
What were they thinking?
Granted, as Mike Duffy reports in his article for the "Detroit Free Press," this is "no biggie in the age of TiVo." Yet, at least to this particular fan (namely me), having to choose between two goods, and also to ostensibly put them in order of preference is not very happy making in this week of the TV-blockbuster-finale. (It is my own version of what Mike Duffy called "the holy blockbuster trinity" of finales from last year, which this year includes not only the season finales of "24," "Alias," and "Lost," but also this year's finale of popular hits like "Desperate Housewives," among others.)
But, as no Christian should be forced to put the three persons of the Trinity in hierarchical order (and relax,readers, I'm just having some metaphorical fun here), I take offense at being forced to do so with my own trinity of pop culture favorites. Alas, the decision lies before me. Whether tonight I will pledge my allegiance to my longtime yet dying favorite, "Alias," over the extraordinarily addictive yet slated to return, "24," still remains to be seen (literally).
On last night's "Simpsons" season finale, Homer had the following astute observation about his marriage to Marge: "We been through more hardships than the Jews and Charlie Brown put together."
So who did go through more challenges and troubles: The Chosen People, or the bald cartoon character?
While Christians from all over the world have been flocking to the Cannes Film Festival to protest the premiere of “The Da Vinci Code,” a totally different kind of film about faith and Christianity is also debuting at Cannes this weekend. “Rising Son” is a biopic about legendary skateboarder Christian Hosoi’s hugely successful skateboarding career, which ended abruptly when he was sent to prison for drug trafficking. The film, narrated by renegade actor and cultural icon Dennis Hopper, tracks Hosoi’s childhood, rise to fame (you know, if skatebarders could ever really be considered celebrities...), and release from prison in 2004 as a changed man who had experienced a religious conversion to Christianity.
I can’t exactly imagine the French--or the Hollywood elite, for that matter--standing in line, much less doing a heelflip, kickturn, or a nosegrab, to catch this particular flick, but maybe Hosoi's story of grit, determination, and redemption translates into inspiration in any language. Still, even though I have not seen the film, I can't help but feel a little disappointment that the only overtly Christian film at Cannes is yet another rags-to-riches testimony story that will probably only appeal to a nich market instead of creating spiritual discussion on a larger scale with the film community at large.
Thank heaven for little girls, goes the old song. Thank Sonny Sandoval, of the Christian heavy-metal group P.O.D., for the most popular new name for little girls: Nevaeh--or "heaven" written backwards. Since Sandoval revealed his then-new daughter's name during an MTV appearance in 2000, the incidence of Neveah has rocketed from just eight girls to 70th, by far the fastest rise in that period. Before Sandoval, the only inspiration for the name, according to research by Cleveland Evans, author of "The Great Big Book of Baby Names," were the novels of V.C. Andrews, whose teenage heroine was nicknamed Heaven.
Though the New York Times says evangelical Christians are prone to naming their children Nevaeh, Evans says the popularity of the name has less to do with religious fervor than the association—as in the old song—with little girls and heaven, or angels.
The name almost necessarily presumes an admirable lack of superstition as well, given the traditional connection of backward-spelled words, especially holy ones, with mayhem, or Satan himself. From ancient Egypt to Stanley Kubrick's "redrum," reversing the letters of a word has been a means of summoning evil--"live" spelled backwards.
"The Da Vinci Code" is finally here. The P.R. machine that had Tom Hanks and his "Da Vinci" 'do at the Oscars and trailers running for a year has succeeded. The reviews are out. Ministries around the world are spreading the word about the “fiction” of The Code. This week’s water-cooler question is, “Are you going to see it?” Next week’s will be, “What’d you think of it?”
I think the most important question will not be what we think about the film, but instead, “What do we think about its main character?” And that main character is not Leonardo da Vinci or Tom Hanks or Mary Magdalene. The main character—The One whose identity and purpose is at the center of the story—is Jesus Christ.
"Almost everything our fathers taught us about Christ is false," says the book on page 235. What do you think about that? What do I? Those questions about Him far outweigh what we think of the film. Each of us has the right—and the responsibility—to make our own decisions about who He is and what that has to do with our lives. Our decision in that regard far transcends opinions and discussions about how good this movie is.
And for me, that is the most exciting and continuing drama—the one about how God has reached out to His creation to explain and reveal who He is through Creation, the Incarnation, the Bible, and His providential acts. It is not only more lasting and intriguing than any movie, it's a drama in which you and I play a significant part.
"The Da Vinci Code" movie, like the novel it's based on, is ridiculous, obvious, over-the-top--and yet oddly compelling, a guilty pleasure that wraps interesting pseudohistory and pseudotheology into a shoot-'em-up thriller. In other words, if you liked the book, you'll probably like the movie. Ditto if you hated or were offended by it. As the critics have their field day hurling insults at the movie, it's hard not to see "Da Vinci" as a victim of unrealistic expectations. Say what you will about the book, but it is anything but subtle or plausible, and the movie follows suit. Watching the story on film, the absurdities of the plot and campiness of the dialogue are heightened, but I'm not sure why anyone would be surprised by that.
Though the film is too long and doesn't always have the fast-paced feel of the novel, Ron Howard's film is unlikely to sway any minds in the debate over the story's attitudes and allegations about Christianity. The faith--traditional Christian beliefs and their development--comes off ever-so-slightly better on screen than in the novel. Robert Langdon, the hero-professor at the center of the story, here is given a moment of true faith, and in a possible bone to critics, makes an attempt to bridge the worlds of skepticism and faith that are at war in the story. In streamlining the characters' long theological discourses, screenwriter Akiva Goldsman focuses on Mary Magdalene and the supposed ramifications of her suppression in the early church, and discards most of the talk about the feminine divine, Christianity's pagan roots, and rituals of sensuality and sexuality allegedly eliminated by church leaders.
As for the church--the people, the institution--the opposite is true. Vatican leaders are more deeply involved in the murderous plot than in book, and the accusations leveled at the church, of suppression (both of the violent and theological varieties) are sharp. In flashback scenes that are too cartoonish not to provoke unintended laughter, director Ron Howard dramatizes the Crusades and the Knights Templar, along with the Inquisition and other moments of Christian violence, emphasizing the brutality of the church's actions.
There was a moment in "The Da Vinci Code" that reminded me of the last movie to have touched a cultural nerve this deeply. Though the two are as different as can be in content and intention, both "The Passion of the Christ" and "Da Vinci" offer scenes of salacious, graphic, needless mutilation--the first when Jesus' skin is flayed by Roman guards, the second when the murderous Opus Dei monk Silas beats himself ritually and the camera lingers on his injured body. I doubt the connection was intentional, and am not saying there's any thematic connection between the two films. But thinking of both these scenes--and both these movies--is a reminder of how difficult it is for all but the most masterful filmmakers to depict subtlety and emotional depth on screen; the medium lends itself to the exaggerated and sensational, and neither film rises above that. You may find "Da Vinci" fun and intriguing, or you may find it offensive and upsetting, but either way, you won't find profundity.
"American Idol" runner up Katherine McPhee may have thought the controversy surrounding her appearance in the final two instead of hugely popular rocker Chris Daughtry was going to be the most difficult moment of competing on the hit reality show. But that was before the rumors started swirling this past week about Katherine McPhee’s possible involvement in Scientology.
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Whether she’s kissing Madonna, marrying a childhood friend in Vegas, or filming her own so-awful-it's-funny reality show, Britney Spears never fails to make for great sound bites and magazine covers. But, for me, the high points of my Britney fascination have been the ones connected to religion.
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After nearly three decades out of the musical spotlight, Yusuf Islam--formerly known as Cat Stevens--is back with the promise of a new album. Inspired by growing tensions between his beloved religion and the West, the singer-songwriter 
The end of the eight-year run of the WB's "Charmed" also marked the passing of a programming trend that began in the mid-late 90s, Wicca and witches. The proliferation of this particular primetime paganism--or rather, this artistic approximation of paganism--began with ABC’s "Sabrina the Teenage Witch" in 1996. Based on the Archie comic book series, Sabrina (played by Melissa Joan Hart) her two bachelorette, witch aunts, and ex-wizard cat, Salem, found themselves in many a zany situation thanks to miscast spells and improper potions. 
Discrimination. Genetic engineering. The Federal government invading private citizens' privacy. What has made the "X-Men" comic books and their recent adaptations on the big screen 
“But what about my friends?” In between all of the revelations about the hatch--I mean, hatches--and the return of Desmond, the guy the island survivors found in the hatch, it was still that line--spoken by roly-poly Hurley--that moved me the most as I watched the 
As promised in all the hype about the season finale of “Lost,” obsessed viewers learned the following: What happens when the "save the world" counter stops at zero... and the buttons aren't pushed.
Once upon a time, the 
I heard a sermon on Broadway last night, and it wasn't in the nearby Church of Scientology. It is the opening scene of the Pulitzer Prize-winning "
It's happened to me many times—a mind-blowing coincidence will occur, and I'll think, "If this happened in a movie or a book, it would be totally corny and unbelievable." Which is why it takes such great skill to make coincidence unfold in fiction with authentic, goosebump-giving ease. This skill was sorely necessary in making the long-awaited film rendition of the novel "The Celestine Prophecy," 
It's generally a sign of a rock star's age--and fading relevance--when her fans are called "the faithful," even when the artist in question is the renegade Roman Catholic-turned-Kabbalist Madonna. At 47, the singer kicked off 
Thank heaven for little girls, goes 
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