While not necessarily a huge fan of his music, I have been reading with great interest the different interpretations that publications like Rolling Stone and the New York Times have been giving the "Modern Times", the new CD by iconic blues-rocker Bob Dylan, which dropped in stores this week. It seems no one can miss the dark apocalyptic tone of "Times" and the way it marks a return by Dylan to overtly spiritual musings about the meaning of life. But while God does make an appearance in a few of the songs, anyone looking for an answer to the years of speculation over Dylan's much publicized conversion to Christianity in the late 1970s--and the subsequent debate as to whether he has held to that faith, returned to his Jewish roots, or abandoned all of the above--will not find the answer here.
On listening to "Modern Times" the first time through, I have to admit I was a little underwhelmed. I didn't feel the urgency and vibrancy of some of Dylan's early music, and several of the songs seem to center around his love-hate relationship with women. But on a second listen, the real depth of Dylan's lyrics started to sink in, and I realized anew that Dylan is not someone you can appreciate on the surface level; he requires you to dig deeper.
In the song "When The Deal Goes Down," lines like "We all wear the same thorny crown / Soul to soul, our shadows roll / And I'll be with you when the deal goes down" could be referring to a a human relationship or a relationship with God. Similarly, in the song "Beyond the Horizon," Dylan seems like he is talking about a human relationship until the end of the song, when he states, "I'm wounded, I'm weary / My repentance is plain / Beyond the horizon o'r the treacherous sea / I still can't believe that you have set aside your love for me." At that moment , these poetic images turn the meaning of the song around and indicate this is really a love song to God.
When Dylan is not preocupied with love in some shape or form, he certainly is fixated on how our world is coming to an end, and if this CD is any indication, Dylan believes the world's demise is soon. The prophetic "The Levee's Gonna Break" is the CD's shining moment, song not only about what happened in New Orleans a year ago, but which also serves as Dylan's warning that worse times are ahead. He laments: "If it keeps on rainin', the levee's gonna break / Some people still sleepin', some people are wide awake."
Overall, the thoughts and images that Dylan creates through his songs on "Modern Times" are subtle and mesmerizing. While Dylan doesn't answer the question of exactly where his spiritual sensibilities are these days, he does make a statement to all of those who are wondering. In his last song, "Ain't Talkin', Just Walkin,'" Dylan quietly croons, "I am a-tryin' to love my neighbor and do good unto others / But oh, mother, things ain't going well / Ain't talkin', just walkin' / through the world mysterious and vague."
There's something about the word fluid, and it's not something good. It conjures up Ben Stiller and untraditional "hair gel"; or Bill Clinton and a Navy Gap dress; or in its least offensive incarnation, "lighter fluid." But when you add the word "Madonna" to the word "fluid," you know it's gonna be trouble.
But since mentions of Madonna these days are usually tempered by the word "Kabbalah," the newest result to this equation is:
The singer and her hubby, director Guy Ritchie, have been "lobbying the government and nuclear industry over a scheme to clean up radioactive waste with a supposedly magic Kabbalah fluid," according to London's Sunday Times. The power couple has approached various British government agencies, urging the detoxing powers of a "mystical" liquid developed by the mystical offshoot of Judaism, which is currently trendy among some celebs.
One London official called the Material Girl's scientific methodology "bollocks." Frankly, I'm no scientist, but I think that pronouncement errs on the side of being overly kind and respectful. I was just in Safed, Israel--the home of real Kabbalah--less than two weeks before Katyusha rockets fell on the region, and there was no evidence of a science research facility producing a magical liquid that cleans up radioactive waste. Maybe it was hidden between the candle factory and the handmade-jewelry vendors. However, I remember hearing that Kabbalah mystics were in the midst of working on a product called Shimmer, which is both a floor wax and a dessert topping.
Perhaps because this "fluid" story is so out there, more Madge news--with this item far less controversial or wacky--also recently hit the media. Now that she has her kids Lola and Rocco, she says, she understands how important it is to help the orphans of the world, and she's starting in Malawi:
Madonna plans to raise at least $3 million for programs to support orphans in Malawi, and is giving $1 million to fund a documentary about the plight of children there. She has also teamed up with developing-world economic leader Jeffrey Sachs on programs to improve the health, agriculture and economy of a village in Malawi, and she’s met with former President Clinton about bringing low-cost medicines to the area.
Good. Help the children. Bring Bill Clinton (but keep him away from Gap dresses). And definitely bring in the low-cost medicines. As long as they're not in fluid form.
posted by Esther Kustanowitz @ 4:32 PM | Permalink |
The only thing America loves more than a winner is an underdog. Andre Agassi has been the former AND the latter... twice.
Monday night, I had to stay up past midnight to watch him win a 4-set match in the opening round of the U.S Open tennis tournament. Years ago, I sat on a hill and watched him--at the time an ex-pro--play a Tier 3 qualifying match at McCambridge Rec Center in Burbank. This would be like Michael Jordan showing up at the local YMCA looking for a game. But Andre was there because the rules of tennis insist that a player win his way back to the pro tour. Michael just showed up back in Chicago. Andre had to earn it.
He's played a tournament career spanning two hairstyles and then no hair. He's been an underdog, then champion, then underdog, then champion... and again he's now an underdog. Everyone (at least in America) wants him to win. Most of us think he'll lose anytime.
I wonder what it is that causes us to root for someone who's made more money than us, is more secure than we are, and who's legacy will last longer than most of ours. Perhaps it goes back to the Garden. Perhaps it goes back to the Incarnation. Most everyone I know--including the networks, the United States Tennis Associatuon, and my friends who've flown to New York--just want him to go forward a little while longer.
The news that Tom Cruise has signed a deal to finance future movies with the owner of the Washington Redskins football team, Daniel Snyder, and his investment partners restores hope that we'll live to see "Mission Impossible 13." But what does it mean for the cause of religion in Hollywood? The key may be the Cruise-Gibson connection.
Since Tom's "firing" by Viacom chief Sumner Redstone, the press has paired Tom and Mel: two megastars whose faith--Scientology and Tridentine Catholicism, respectively--has ruined their careers. After Redstone told the Wall St. Journal last week that Cruise had committed "creative suicide" by behaving erratically over the past few months, word crept out that the real issue was Cruise's Scientology-based criticism of Brooke Shields's post-partum pill-popping on the "Today" show. Others said Cruise had done himself in when he riled the all-powerful Steven Spielberg. "It was well-known that Spielberg was not happy about the fact that Cruise used his junkets from 'War of the Worlds' to promote his religious beliefs," a source told AFP News.
Bolstering the Cruise-Gibson tie was director Rob Reiner's comment last week that Mel's apology for an anti-Semitic tirade wasn't enough; he had to apologize for anti-Semitism in his "The Passion."
Cruise's new deal with Snyder shows that there is Tom-Mel synergy going on, but it has more to do with moola than martyrdom. Like Mel, Cruise has signed with investors who look only at the bottom line, not at behavior or beliefs that might embarrass them at Hollywood happenings. Far from dousing Tom or Mel's faith-based fire, these outsiders may give the stars more room to express their religion in their films.
In the gospels, Jesus foretells of nations rising against nations, of famines and earthquakes, pestilence and other troubles--a millennial moment ABC cites in its special two-hour edition of tonight's "20/20," titled "Last Days on Earth." Lucky for Jesus, Stephen Hawking wasn't hanging around the banks of the Jordan, lowballing the odds of an earthquake strong enough to do us all in. That's precisely the problem with "Last Days on Earth," structured as a countdown of the eight most likely ways civilization as we know it will end. None of them, it turns out, are too likely. A beta-ray bloom caused by a collapsing star, or a supervolcanic eruption could scorch us all to death or blanket the Earth in sulfuric clouds. But as Hawking points out, neither has happened in 400 million years, so why sweat it?
Besides, if we're all toast, no one's going to be around to miss us, will they?
ABC doesn't address these existential questions to any satisfying degree. A Rapid City, South Dakota, preacher recalls Christ's warning to the disciples (see above) and in a few man-in-the-street montages, common folk say what they'd do given a few weeks or hours to live. We're left wanting to hear--and think--more about what we might do spiritually when all hope is lost.
The room where I screened the show did get a little quiet, however, when a NASA scientist expained that an asteroid is expected to pass within a 24,000 miles of Earth in 2029, and could return seven years later in line to wallop our favorite planet. If we fail to redirect this bit of cosmic mischief, we'd know the date of impact--and a rough idea of our death--to the hour. This scenario also yields the one bit of good news in ABC's show: a trauma psychologist predicts that the human race's response to a death-date certain will be to reach out to find love. Now that's a prediction Jesus would be down with.
The "Law" side of "Law & Order" meets "CSI" and "Boston Legal" in Jerry Bruckheimer's new TV series "Justice," debuting tonight on FOX. While Bruckheimer's countless action movies have became more intelligent over time, this show seems to be more of a reversion to the days of "Armageddon" and "Con Air" than a mimic of his recent TV successes.
Interesting and slick, fast and simple, the more accurate title would have been "Spin" or "Trial by Camera," since that's what it's really about. The show doesn't dive deep enough to land the satisfying graces and societal healings that come when true justice is achieved. Or served. So if you're looking for inspiration for--and connection to--that spiritual part of each of us that longs for justice in the world, keep surfing. If you're looking for some entertainment before dozing, though, "Justice" may not be all bad.
The show's premise rests on the efforts of "Trott, Nicholson, Tuller & Graves" (TNT&G), a legal firm that serves the celebrities and wealthy elite of Southern California. In the pilot episode, the firm defends a rich guy accused of killing his wife. "Defense" takes on the kind of sophistication and meticulous detail that's meant to (as the show's website says) do for lawyers what "CSI" and "First Watch" have done for their fields. At least in the pilot, it was a surface scan at best.
The ensemble cast is not exactly "Crane, Poole and Schmidt" of "Boston Legal"--in either size or sizzle--but who knows, maybe more characters will be added soon. Victor Garber's Ron Trott is a media-saavy white version of Johnnie Cochrane; Kerr Smith is young Tom Nicholson, the lead dog in court; Eamonn Walker's Luther Graves is an African-American ex-prosecutor who is more wisdom than winsome; Rebecca Mader's Alden Tuller is sort of on the border between "token woman" and "forensic expert."
The dialogue here isn't exactly "The Paper Chase," or even "The Paper," what with such trifles as:
"The D.A. is playing hardball."
"This is trial by TV."
"The D.A. doesn't want to try him on the facts; they want to lynch him in the media."
"If you miss anything, it costs our client everything."
As with any TV show, its success will lie with our connection to the characters, interest in the plots, and intrigue from the premise. Unfortunately, after all of the legal representation issues, media comment, state-of-the-art forensic interpretation, jury consultants, mock juries, and legal experts, we're left with a show that is more about the interaction between clients, law firms, and the media rather than a deep look into the real desires in each of our hearts for authentic justice.
The show does feature a nice little ending touch: a flashback to the actual crime scene. For anyone who's ever really, really wanted to know what happened with O.J. and Nicole or any other high profile case, these last few moments are for you. Of course, you've gotta spend an hour for the final minute's pay-off. Perhaps future episodes will be more worth it.
In reading several articles and blog pieces--including Idol Chatter's reliable Kris Rasumussen's--I think almost everyone has missed the real point. Tom's exit from Paramount wasn't due as much to his behavior or their greed as much as it was due to our behavior and our greed.
Our behavior was to watch a young actor come out of his choreographed shell and reveal more of his actual character and personality--and then decide not to go to his movies as much. It's not as if he was some sort balanced character leader or upstanding citizen before he jumped up on Oprah's couch or shared his pseudoreligious beliefs; we just didn't know any better. As he got more authentic, we stayed away from his recent releases.
The result? The business entity charged with making a profit (Paramount Studios) made an assessment based on data that he wasn't the market force he used to be. Correct? Yes. But it didn't have to be.
What if throngs of citizens had shown up in greater droves, as if to say, "We truly value authenticity off screen while loving great entertainment on screen." The problem, of course, is that many of us can't separate the two, and we want too much to believe in (and vicariously connect with) the on-screen personas of celebrities, who lose value for us when they stray from what we want to conceive them as.
And this isn't new. Humphrey Bogart tried to be the tragic hero in "The Caine Mutiny." John Wayne got old in "Rooster Cogburn." Robert Redford got vulnerable (finally) in "Indecent Proposal" and later "The Clearing." Harrison Ford moved from the trilogies ("Star Wars" and "Indiana Jones") to artsy stuff like "Mosquito Coast" and later tried to play a Russian in "K-19: The Widowmaker." Cruise is the latest in a line of famous male actors who've tried to climb out of the box that made them famous--whether on-screen or off. It's not that it's bad, or wrong. It's just that we (the public) don't tend to respond well to it and thus the studios don't want to pay them for it.
It's just business, really. But deeper than that, it's spiritual: We say we long for authenticity and honesty, but we don't like it when we see it.
And that's when every actor realizes he or she is really just another commodity.
Last night's Primetime ran a segment called "The Outsiders" that focused on what most Americans consider to be religious groups with "outsider" status: the Amish, fundamentalist Mormons, and the Children of God.
Three stories were documented by ABC: (1) Mary Byler, an Amish woman who defied Amish law by calling police to arrest her brothers, who'd raped her repeatedly; (2) Warren Jeffs, the recently arrested fundamentalist Mormon leader who advocated underage polygamist marriage; and (3) Ricky Rodriguez, a defector from the Children of God whose sexual abuse drove him to kill one of his former predators, and eventually himself.
Even though I've never read "The Outsiders" by S.E. Hinton, the coming-of-age themes of heartache, violence (including sexual), loss of innocence, tragedy, and conflicts with authority were prevalent in the featured profiles. What's fascinating is how most mainstream Americans already see these and many other sects as fringe societies who live in bubbles that espouse "strange" religious ideals. I myself have been guilty of traveling to Pennsylvania to gawk at the Amish, in their long, old-world garments and somber horse-drawn buggies. Even while the Mormon majority have disavowed polygamy, it's still a matter of widespread curiosity; see HBO's "Big Love." Plus, while most people probably haven't heard of the Children of God, the founding philosophy of free love is rooted in the hippie past of the 1960s.
By being part of "outsider" groups, Mary, Warren, and Ricky are once-removed from mainstream society, but by defying basic tenets of their own faiths and wandering outside of their own faith communities, they are twice-removed from even that outsider status; they are outsiders in their own outsider cultures. Yet, strangely enough, despite being outsiders, the crimes and passions that drove them into being outsiders are the very same crimes and passions prevalent in most mainstream religious groups and secular societies today.
By now, the football as religion analogy is about as played out as steroid scandals in competitive cycling. But folks in Hoover, Alabama, take the phrase God on the Gridiron to a whole new level and MTV is there to document it in the new reality series "Two-A-Days," named for the two grueling practices the boys go through each day.
Sure, the fans are absolute zealots in their support of the Buccaneers, who have won four state championships out of the last five years, and fervently evangelical about the team: As those who have family and friends in the area know, Hoover can simply do no wrong. But what's so interesting is that "Two-A-Days" embraces the sports spirituality stereotype and takes it to an nth degree. In fact, in the premiere episode, the very first words out of Alex, a senior player and the episode's narrator, are "At Hoover, football is like a religion, and the players on the team are celebrities."
Sound familiar? Sure it does. We've seen it a million times in the movies and on tv. In fact, MTV has tackled the subject matter before, in 1999's "Varsity Blues"--boys elevated to gods and the pressures they face from the parents, themselves and the fans. Interestly enough, that film also features a character on a humorous and heartfelt spiritual quest, trying to discern what religion is right for himself. He tries everything from Nation of Islam to Zen Buddhism to tying himself to a cross at the breakfast table.
But there's nothing humorous in the very real religion found in "Two-A-Days." The morning before a nationally televised game that will determine who the number one high school team in the nation is, the boys meet with team chaplain, Terry Slay.
"Everyone is born with a gameplan. The reason I stand here today, the reason I have the faith and the fortidtude, or whatever I do, is all because of one thing... it's because I've got God's gameplan in my life. And I want you as players to understand, to have something to hang on to and the Lord's that person," Slay says.
Niceties out of the way, Slay continues preaching about how the people from the opposing school expect Hoover to fail. "Don't you dare embarrass this program by the way you play. Let them know they have come to the state of Alabama where football is king where football is football wehere we play like it's supposed to be played... and make sure that if you play in this game that you can't walk off, that you crawl off... give it all up."
Pressure much?
"Two-A-Day" is engaging television. Sure, it's full of teen drama (who's so and so cheating with?) and shenanigans (padlocking a backpack to a chair), but these Hoover players endure two grueling practices a day in temperatures that often sore about 100 degrees, they withstand the verbal, some might say abusive, barbs of the coaches, and they put up with parents and community members' critiques. So why do the boys do it? It seems to go beyond the instant celebrity status they achieve. The show is a compelling portrait of absolute devotion: Devotion to a game, devotion to the ideal of perfection.
Indie film star Catherine Keener--known for her character acting in such cinema favorites as "Capote," "Being John Malkovich," and "The 40-Year-Old Virgin"--was just interviewed for the New York Times Fall Fashion issue. In "Being Catherine Keener," Keener spills all to interviewer Lynn Hirschberg about how Catholicism has influenced her film career, including her thoughts on how being an actor is like being a priest: "Playing so many characters in so many films is a way to be in the moment. That was, to me, growing up Catholic, the appeal of the clergy--they address the moment. So, short of being a priest, I am an actor."
Other interesting tidbits from the piece:
I still love anything connected to nuns. That’s why I love all of Yohji Yamamoto’s designs--they look like a nun’s habit, and if I had my way, I’d always dress like a nun. As a girl, I saw every movie with nuns: “The Trouble With Angels,” “The Miracle of Our Lady of Fatima.” I saw them all. I love the nun’s lifestyle: the quiet, the solitude. But then I realized they were subservient to priests, and I decided I wanted to be a priest. That’s when the trouble began. I desperately wanted to be an altar boy, and I stole a bag of unconsecrated wafers. They weren’t yet the body of Christ, but they were delicious. That was the first of my many run-ins with Catholic law.
And:
How does Catholicism relate to show business?
Well, there is something about Catholicism that is both theatrical and pure, and movies can have that quality. There are other benefits to Catholicism: you grow up with a great sense of shame and hope and faith and naïveté.
And apparently, at least if you happen to be a girl, you grow up with creative ideas about how to be priestly without actually having to be a boy or an actual Catholic priest.
For 26 years, the ultra-luxe Cartier has been selling the "Love bracelet"--a gold bracelet that must be secured onto a lover's wrist with a screwdriver. How romantic! Cartier's Love bracelet was originally "inspired by medieval chastity belts," explains New York Times reporter Sandra Ballentine in her article "Prisoner of Love" in the Women's Fashion Fall 2006 magazine.
The signature bracelet, selling for a mere $2,975, has apparently been flying off shelves for decades now, and currently adorns the slight wrists of Hollywood starlets like Lindsay Lohan and Sofia Coppola. (Though who knows who holds the key--or screwdriver?--to their hearts?)
Ballentine reports of Cartier's new plans for the contemporary chastity bracelet: "This October, in a nod to more conspicuous commitment, a $28,000 diamond-encrusted bangle version will be introduced."
I suppose the idea is that the more you spend, the greater the likelihood of fidelity.
Though technically, the "chastity bracelet" does not discriminate according to gender, it still seems to be a gift mostly for the girl, of course. Perhaps it's the upscale, celeb-style version of the ever-more-popular promise ring worn by so many Christian teen girls.
In eschewing the usual "thank you to everyone I've ever come into contact with" speech at the Emmy's last night, "My Name Is Earl" writer Greg Garcia decided to enumerate those for whom he did not feel any gratitude. Among them: an eighth-grade teacher and an old boss. And he saved the funniest for last:
And finally God. I am sure you are responsible in some way, but you took my hair and that's not cool, man.
Hopefully, Garcia's success will offer him the resources to seek a man-made solution for what God took away.
How Jewish is Jackie Mason? "As a matzo ball," says the comedian. "Or kosher salami." So Jewish, that when Jews for Jesus published a pamphlet suggesting that Mason had accepted Jesus, he let loose with a $2 million lawsuit.
The pamphlet, also known as a broadside, which is still available (but hurry) on this website, features a cartoon image of Mason on the front, and asks, "Jackie Mason... A Jew for Jesus?" Inside, a lesson is built around Jackie Mason's famously politically incorrect shtik about the differences between Gentiles and Jews, punning egregiously on the titles of the comedians Broadway shows. "There's one thing [the commission of sin] where there's no difference between Jews and Gentiles," the copy reads, causing the cartoon Mason to exclaim, "No difference! There goes my whole show!"
Two million bucks seems a little bit of an overreaction to what appears to be, in the words of Jews for Jesus spokesperson Susan Perlman, "good-natured," if not to well-written, fun. But anyone walking around Manhattan this summer knows Jews for Jesus proselytizers have been out in force, and it's difficult to imagine a person more dependent on his Jewish identity for his livelihood than Jackie Mason, unless it's Ehud Olmert, or a rabbi--which, for the record, Mason is. Ordained at 25 following four generations of tradition in his family, he also became a comedian, his website says, because "somebody in the family had to make a living."
The USA Network's series "The 4400"--about a group of 4,400 people, all of whom went missing at different points in the 20th century and return together bearing special powers, not having aged a day--is about to conclude its third season this Sunday at 9pm.
What makes it worth watching? The last several episodes have seen an interesting twist--Jordan Collier, a 4400 who was essentially the leader of the group worldwide and was assassinated at the end of the second season, is back from the dead! And not only is he back, he has long flowing hair, a beard, and, apparently, was roaming around for the year he was gone prophesying in such a way that he became known to followers as "The Preacher." And if that isn't enough Jesus-imagery for you, during last week's episode, the talk of the town was "Jordan Colllier's resurrection from the dead." Oh, and not to forget the prophesy itself: "The war for the future will be fought in the past," which he tells anyone who will listen.
The 4400 is a gripping show in general, but I have to admit, while the Jordan Collier return is interesting for the narrative arc of the show, the Jesus business they have going on is a bit much.
Interested enough to tune in? For your viewing benefit, the USA network is airing a 4400 Season Three marathon to catch viewers up, beginning at 11 a.m. and running until 9 p.m. Sunday, when they show the finale. It has already been picked up for a fourth season, so no worries about being left hanging.
"Blacks to the right. Whites--you go over there. Asians, step to the left. Latinos, stay where you are. Remember to stay within your groups. We're going to drop you off in the middle of nowhere, with limited supplies, and want you to fight for your lives."
Sounds like a sadistic case study in Social Darwinism, no? Well it might be, depending on how you look at it, but it's also the format for the new season of CBS's "Survivor." In what's being called a "social experiment," this season's teams, called "tribes" on the show, are based solely on ethnicity--whites vs. blacks vs. Asians vs. Latinos. In an interview with The New York Times, series producer Mark Burnett acknowledges that the new setup is "going to be controversial," adding, "I'm not an idiot." Burnett also says that the idea actually came from criticism about the show's lack of diversity. He says approximately 80 percent of the show's applicants are white. For this season's crop, host Jeff Probst says blacks, Asians and Latinos were actively recruited to participate.
This isn't the first time Burnett, who is also the producer of Donald Trump's "The Apprentice," wanted to pit ethnic groups against each other. Last year, Burnett tried to do a race-war edition of the hit business competition show, after "The Donald" suggested it during an interview. However, NBC heads--who obviously have a bit more sensitivity than those at CBS--scrapped that idea.
Although many are sure to find the show's new format in bad taste, as I do, others will undoubtedly be curious as to how the competition is played out. Will fans of the show start rooting for tribes and contestants on the basis of their skin tone? And, if say, a Latino decides to root for the white tribe, will he or she be looked at as a traitor by other Latino fans?
In the end, the winner isn't a team--it's an individual (who wins $1 million)--but this format can only bring out the worst in America's racial stereotypes and prejudices, conscious and subconscious. If a black person wins, will people say it was a set-up designed to finally let a minority win? If an Asian wins, will people say it's because he or she was way smarter then everyone else and therefore, at an advantage?
As in all competitions, there are winners and losers. How "Survivor" presents each of them will make or break the show, and, perhaps, destroy any improvement in race relations this country has achieved during the past 60 years. Well, maybe our race relations are safe. But the show's plan still doesn't seem like a good idea.
The new season begins September 14th. Will you be watching?
This week the History Channel is celebrating Ancient Week (kind of like Shark Week at the Discovery Channel, but with no sharks). In honor of Ancient Week, they premiered a hokey, but ultimately interesting, TV documentary called "The Exodus Decoded," produced by none other than James Cameron.
The show aims to prove scientifically the cause behind the 10 plagues and the parting of the Red Sea; provide a new historical estimate for when the Israelites were lead out of Egypt by Moses; and archaeologically trace the route of the Exodus and location of Mount Sinai, challenging all previous speculation on these subjects.
The use of special effects is distracting and, at times, disorienting (no surprise there, though, given the fact that James Cameron is behind the production) and the narrator, Simcha Jacobovici, is rather corny in his attempts to build suspense. But the contentions and new explanations the team of researchers and scholars provides about the Exodus is fascinating--perfect for viewers who love all things "Bible: Decoded."
Our time together at the Geneva Convention was nothing short of magical... the way we "released international tension together".. back when you were just a little nameless country called "Jewlandia," and I a poor naïve Palestine, when the U.N. threw us together in the same convention booth. How did it all go so wrong? When did our Middle East passion become so muddled, all over "that stupid thing with your country being declared at the expense of my country's autonomy"?
"If only we'd sat down in a Starbucks and written a statement of mutual agreement," if only we had made a pact that day to never let anything come between us, so much fighting could have been averted. I don't regret our time together that night, but have regretted every warring moment since, and thought you should know.
Passionately yours, Suha
The above letter, while a fabrication by this blogger, could easily have been part of the play "The Israeli-Palestinian Conflict: A Romantic Comedy," an official selection of the New York Fringe Festival. As the play's title and the above letter indicate (quotation marks indicate direct quotes from the script), the show imagines Israel and Palestine as a man and woman, respectively, who meet and fall in love at the Geneva Convention, only to have their brief union destroyed by the declaration of the State of Israel. As is the case when countries mate, there is post-affair awkwardness, which manifests as regional turmoil and violence. And of course, there are musical numbers.
The play's fearlessly "out-there" concept--typical of the annual Fringe Festival (which this year also included shows with titles like "Corleone: The Shakespearean Godfather" and "Reservoir Bitches")--comes courtesy of its Iranian-American birth mother, Negin Farsad, and her partners in writing, Alexander Zalben, and in acting, John Flynn. The show has a madcap, high-energy feel and, if just for a moment, makes us wonder, "Why can't those two wacky kids work things out?"
When the wacky kids in question are Israel/Daniel and Palestine/Suha, we all know it's not that simple. But the tropes of relationships gone haywire are surprisingly appropriate. When Suha complains that Daniel "can't balance a healthy relationship with nation-building," she needs to find an outlet for her anger. Her epiphany: "I'll take all the hatred and anger I have and use it constructively to destroy Israel!"
Over the course of the play, the actors get to play with different styles and characters. While some seem a little random (Israel and Palestine do a rap battle! Or a tango! Suha goes on reality show "Blind Date"!) others serve analogies straight up and nuclear.
Farsad plays the petulant student who is also, in the show's conceit, Iran. She wears a baseball cap and a teenager's surly and disobedient grimace. She's called into the principal's office because he's found enriched uranium in her locker. "Iran" whines and blame-shifts. "I totally saw Pakistan and India making nuclear warheads under the bleachers during recess..." The principal (playing the role of U.N.) cautions her to wait before launching an attack, reasoning that "waging war is so much better with a standing army that you love."
Love and war, two areas in which all has been deemed fair. And the line between love and hate is often hard to discern. It takes a rare and inventive imagination to set a region plagued by strife as a romantic musical comedy. If only political unrest and centuries of violence could be erased by a come
dy from the fringe.
posted by Esther Kustanowitz @ 2:50 PM | Permalink |
Has all of the couch jumping and Suri speculation finally caught up with Tom Cruise? In a surprise announcement yesterday in the Wall Street Journal, Viacom exec Sumner Redstone claimed that Paramount--Viacom's movie arm--is terminating its 14-year business relationship with Cruise's film development company.
Seems Redstone believes mega pics like "Mission Impossible III" would have done much better at the box office if Cruise hadn't scolded Matt Lauer for being glib about Scientology or chastised Brooke Shields for taking pills for her post-partum depression. "As much as we like him personally, we thought it was wrong to renew his deal," Redstone has been widely quoted as saying. "His recent conduct has not been acceptable to Paramount."
Hollywood--not to mention the media--is all-too eager to lap up this party line. But as in all juicy Hollywood break-ups, there are two sides to the story. Cruise's partner, Paula Wagner claims that negotiations to renew a development deal between Cruise and Paramount had stalled in recent weeks anyway, so Cruise has decided to solicit funding to head up his own independent film production company. Wagner claims Cruise has made more money for Paramount than any other movie star, and that Redstone's comments are unprofessional and unnecessary.
We've all had fun watching Cruise spin out-of-control for a long time now, but I am not convinced that Paramount's unceremonious dumping of Cruise is motivated by religion as much as it is by greed. With Cruise commanding an exorbitant salary of $20 million and other incentives per film, plus a reported $10 million a year overhead, Cruise's Scientology craziness gave Paramount the easy "out" they needed to cut costs. The move comes on the heels of a New York Times report that major movie studios are increasingly concerned about slumping box office and "have waged war on actor salaries."
On the other hand, Cruise might want to give Mel Gibson a call. I am sure there would be a lot for them to talk about as they are standing in the unemployment line.
Tragedy awakens the need for something to grasp, something sturdy, reliable, and familiar. We saw this need after 9/11, with congregations growing within churches and other places of worship. We see this in times of war, especially in soldiers'--and their families'--reliance on prayer. Similarly, the second half of Spike Lee's Hurricane Katrina documentary, "When The Levees Broke," revealed just how much many New Orleanians depended on their religious faith to get them through this particular tragedy.
As the floods rose and the needed help didn't come, many New Orleanians were overcome with anger, the predominant emotion that lingers today. In Lee's documentary, interview after interview shows politician-bashing, government-cursing individuals who seem as if they'll never be whole or happy again. They curse and threaten and vent their rage. But at the end of every angry outburst, it is God's name that lingers on their tongues, and it is God who, in the words of one individual in the film, "gets all the glory."
It doesn't seem to matter that the hurricane came from nature, which most religious people presumably believe is controlled by God. These people do not curse God for their misfortune. Having lived nowhere but in New Orleans, most individuals in Lee's film accepted hurricanes as a normal part of their lives. In dealing with the grief of Katrina and its aftermath, these people were surprisingly rational. No one blamed or cursed God, no one asked "Why us?" or "How could God do this?" Instead, it was state and federal governments to whom they directed these questions, and who were on the receiving end of the wrath that so many other people might blindly throw at God.
A large part of the Acts III and IV of the four-part documentary dealt with the moving-forward stage, nearly a year after the storm. In the most poignant segments from Lee's four-hour film, citizens gathered in the streets and gave Hurricane Katrina a "jazz funeral." A New Orleans tradition, jazz funerals are given not to mourn loss but to celebrate life. To watch these New Orleanians marching down the street, singing, dancing, and praying, was a religious experience in itself. A coffin draped with a sign bearing the word "Katrina" symbolized the survival of scores of New Orleanians--people who survived Hurricane Katrina and continued to survive living day-to-day with the memories of their loss. It was faith to which many New Orleanians clung when it was clear their government had forsaken them.
Like any good Jew, Shawn Green had to wander the desert for a few years before coming to the Promised Land. The All-Star outfielder, who was traded to the New York Mets yesterday after playing his last seven seasons in Los Angeles and Arizona, will become the first Jewish player in New York, the U.S. city with the highest concentration of Jews, since Dave Roberts, who pitched briefly for the Mets in 1981 (though more locals likely remember pitcher Ken Holtzman of the late '70s Yankees).
The Green trade had been brewing for a while, and, in a time of relatively few Jewish ballplayers, Jewish New Yorkers have been relishing the possibility of a high profile player of their faith. "Mazel tov and zei gesund. I'll gladly have him over to break bread at my Shabbos table anytime," wrote "n8genius" on Metsblog.com earlier this month. "He can stay for the High Holy days here in Brooklyn, and I'll even put on Tefilin with him everday if he hits. Please, a Jew on the Mets would be a pleasure no words could express."
After the trade, Green himself, using athletes' practiced bland-speak, signaled similar feelings: "Had I played my whole career and never played in New York, I always would have wondered what it was like."
Before he could be traded, Green had to go through waivers--a sort of Purgatory in which a player can be claimed by any team in the league if a trade isn't made in three days. But Green has also cleared a higher form of waivers: Yom Kippur this year is the last day of the regular baseball season, and won't keep Green from playing in crucial playoff games.
A full list of Jewish baseball players is available here.
Despite fellow blogger Charlotte Allen's rather icy assessment of my recent posting in praise of Madonna's crucixifion act and my defense of a woman's right to image the divine on the cross, my NPR commentary on the same topic was controversial enough to catch the attention of one of the most famous gossip-columnists in America, Liz Smith. Yes, I've made the tabloids!
In her New York Post column on Monday, headlined "A Thorny Issue," the queen of celebrity (and, apparently, NPR) gossip writes:
"MADONNA IS doing Christians a favor. She is performing a woman's right to stand in Jesus's place... as a Christian, I know that one of the most important spiritual tasks asked of me is to see the crucified Jesus in each and every person I encounter... it offends only because our imaginations are so impoverished."
So says teacher/author Donna Freitas, about the controversy of Madonna on the cross in her latest concert. Freitas spoke on the NPR program "All Things Considered." (As the world knows by now, while suspended on the cross, wearing a twinkly crown of thorns, Madonna sings "Live to Tell." Images of AIDS-stricken African women and children flash on the giant screen above her.) La Ciccone has insisted, "I don't think Jesus would be mad at me."
Well, I don't try to fathom what Jesus would think. But maybe being named Madonna gives you special privilege.
I'm not sure the mainstream music industry has ever given Canadian folk-rocker Bruce Cockburn his due along side the likes of Paul Simon, James Taylor, or even Bob Dylan. And I know that the Christian music industry has never known what to think of his politically charged lyrics mixed with a faith in God that isn't easy to pigeonhole. And while I haven't listened to Cockburn since my college days, consider me a prodigal fan returning to rave--no, gush--about his recent release "Life Short Call Now." It is not only the best CD I have listened to this year, but also is a work of art to be reflected upon for a long time to come.
Cockburn's political musings--the songwriter has always been an ardent pacifist--are still at the forefront of some of his songs, such as "This is Baghdad" and "Tell The Universe." In these, he skillfully puts a human face on the devastation of war and on the destruction of our planet, and calls all of us to accountability. His prowess as a guitarist is displayed on instrumental tracks like "Jerusalem Poker" and "Peace March," while the prophetic nature of his songwriting is especially evident in the searing lament found in "Beautiful Creatures" and in the warnings of the urgent "Slow Down Fast." Woven together, all of these songs reveal a restless, questioning spirit searching for truth and beauty but discovering them harder and harder to find in a chaotic world unconcerned with the divine.
But it is the paradoxical yet whimsical portraits he paints of his faith in God that truly take my breath away. In "See You Tomorrow," Cockburn sees God in a beautiful woman's walk as well as in his own sin stalking him. In the song "Mystery," he joyfully comments that "infinity always gives me vertigo and fills me up with grace." And in "To Fit In My Heart," Cockburn sums up his assurance in the vastness and agelessness of God's nature as he quietly proclaims, "Spacetime strings bend, world without end / God's too big to fit in a book / But nothing's too big to fit in my heart."
There is so much more I could say about the layers and nuances of Cockburn's songs, but they need to be experienced individually to be appreciated. So don't waste any more time. Your life is short, and you'll definitely want to give Cockburn's "Life" a listen. Now.
While not necessarily a huge fan of his music, I have been reading with great interest the different interpretations that publications like Rolling Stone and the New York Times have been giving the "Modern Times", the new CD by iconic blues-rocker Bob Dylan, which dropped in stores this week. It seems no one can miss the dark apocalyptic tone of "Times" and the way it marks a return by Dylan to overtly spiritual musings about the meaning of life. But while God does make an appearance in a few of the songs, anyone looking for an answer to the years of speculation over Dylan's much publicized conversion to Christianity in the late 1970s--and the subsequent debate as to whether he has held to that faith, returned to his Jewish roots, or abandoned all of the above--will not find the answer here.
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Indie film star Catherine Keener--known for her 
How Jewish is Jackie Mason? "As a matzo ball," says the comedian. "Or kosher salami." So Jewish, that when Jews for Jesus published a pamphlet suggesting that Mason had accepted Jesus, he let loose with 
"Blacks to the right. Whites--you go over there. Asians, step to the left. Latinos, stay where you are. Remember to stay within your groups. We're going to drop you off in the middle of nowhere, with limited supplies, and want you to fight for your lives."
Has all of the couch jumping and Suri speculation finally caught up with Tom Cruise? 
Tragedy awakens the need for something to grasp, something sturdy, reliable, and familiar. We saw this need after 9/11, with congregations growing within churches and other places of worship. We see this in times of war, especially in soldiers'--and their families'--reliance on prayer. Similarly, the second half of Spike Lee's Hurricane Katrina documentary, "
Like any good Jew, 
I'm not sure the mainstream music industry has ever given Canadian folk-rocker