Belfast (2021, PG-13)

Moving along to Best Picture nominee #7. This period family tale comes care of Kenneth Branagh, the first actor to give me a window into Shakespeare. He provides a different kind of window here, one looking at life in Northern Ireland during the Troubles.

In the late ‘60s, young Buddy lives with his parents, brother, and grandparents in Belfast. His main concerns are that of most boys his age: playing football with his friends, collecting Hot Wheels, and pondering how to get himself seated near his crush in class. But around him, the streets are a powder keg as thugs intimidate and menace the Catholic families in their mostly-Protestant neighborhood. Buddy looks to his family for help and protection while he tries to make sense of the world around him.

Belfast is both written and directed by Branagh, who received Oscar nods for both. The film is inspired by his own childhood, and you can feel the personal touch in the care he takes with the details. Whether it’s the warmth and camaraderie of a friendly street suddenly erupting into violence, the fly-on-the-wall feel of Buddy eavesdropping on his parents’ conversations about the political unrest and their own financial troubles, or the popular music and movies of the day that get threaded into the narrative, each scene feels lived-in and honest.

As characters, Buddy and the members of his family all pop onscreen. Buddy is very much framed as an innocent against his violent backdrop—Catholicism doesn’t sound so bad to him, since he’s heard that you can sin as much as you want and then be forgiven with a simple confession—but he’s also a curious boy who witnesses a lot and tries to live proactively. His schemes range from endearing to misguided, and his confusions and questions carry a blunt simplicity in the face of complex problems. His parents are both imperfect people trying to do their best under difficult circumstances, and their individual methods for doing that can put them at odds. Buddy’s older brother may want little to do with him, but his grandparents cherish him, and their affection is by turns protective, mischievous, and encouraging.

The performances are largely subtle but effective. Our Oscar nominees here are Ciarán Hinds and Judi Dench as Buddy’s grandparents, both up for supporting categories. Of course, both of them are very good and I like their characters a lot, but personally, I’m not sure if the demands of their particular roles warrant the nominations. If I was going to single out a performer here, it’d probably be Caitríona Balfe as Buddy’s determined, put-upon mom. Jamie Dornan plays well off of her as Buddy’s dad, and everyone does a fine job shepherding young Jude Hill, who gives a charming, guileless performance as Buddy. While there’s a general sense of this being an everyfamily, each character still feels specific, as do their interconnected relationships with one another.

Warnings

Violence, language, mild sensuality, drinking/smoking, and strong thematic elements.

Five Iron Frenzy: The End is Near (2004)

A while back, I reviewed Brave Saint Saturn’s trilogy of albums, but I’ve never written about Five Iron Frenzy, the band from which Brave Saint Saturn was a spin-off.  Though massively different in both style and sensibility, I love Five Iron Frenzy pretty much equally for altogether different reason.  During their nine years together, the Christian ska/rock group made a lot of great music, but for my maiden post on their stuff, I’m writing about their final release.  (‘Cause I’m sensical like that.)

It really makes a difference that Five Iron created this album knowing that they were disbanding.  It’s not just the last there is – it’s a farewell, and notes of that farewell echo through the entire record.  Some songs are explicitly about the demise of the band.  “It was Beautiful” looks back on memories of the opportunities they had together and everything they saw/did while touring.  “See the Flames Begin to Crawl” essentially throws a Viking funeral for the band, offering up images of smashed guitars and drum kits before setting it all ablaze; although the fans “demand [their] survival,” the song rhapsodizes them as the ones to carry on the legacy.  And “That’s How the Story Ends” spins every crazy, goofy ditty Five Iron ever concocted into a Poe-esque tale charged with finality and tongue-in-cheek melodrama.

While these songs all provide overt references to the End in the album’s name, the death of Five Iron peeks through in other, subtler ways.  The opening track, “Cannonball,” is almost funereal in its recklessness.  In the song, the speaker – who describes himself as the titular cannonball – knows he’s plummeting to the earth and won’t survive, but he’s accepts it calmly as “what [he] was made for.”  And if we look to the other bookend, “On Distant Shores” ends the album on a further contemplation of mortality.  The chorus of course seems to allude to Heaven, pledging to meet God “on distant shores,” and the song also samples Dylan Thomas’s “Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night,” one of the most blatant death poems ever, or at least among those not written by Emily Dickinson.  (Incidentally, Thomas wrote the poem, not about impending death, but impending blindness.  The literary world has spoken, however, and since any published work no longer belongs solely to the author, society at large has made their own ideas about the poem’s meaning.)  Yet, like the songs I discussed in the previous paragraph, “On Distant Shores” doesn’t only look ahead to the end; it also looks back, ending in an impassioned reprise of the last stanza of “Every New Day,” one of Five Iron’s best-regarded songs.

And okay, can we just take a second to talk about “On Distant Shores”?  It’s not so much a song as an experience.  It builds like an 11 o’clock number in a musical – starting slowly, building itself to a fever pitch, and ending in an outpouring of melodic ecstasy.  The bridge is especially stunning.  It takes front man Reese Roper to such a place of brokenness, acknowledging all his failings and unworthiness through Five Iron’s usual unflinching honesty.  If I had to pick a single lyric from the entire album, it’d be, “When grace was easy to admit, / I’d denounce the hypocrites - / Casting first stones, killing my own.”  It’s not often that you see Christian musicians so thoroughly exploring their own transgressions, which makes the song all the more powerful when it comes around to the ultimate theme:  that God loves beyond all reason, beyond what anyone deserves, beyond what anyone believes can possibly be true.  In the midst of sin, shortcomings, and self-loathing, the love continues, and it’s that love that Five Iron Frenzy captures better than most Christian music I’ve heard.

Top Five Christmas Episodes: Sitcoms

I love holiday episodes of TV shows, and while Christmas stories can be hit-or-miss – too sappy/cheesy, recycled storylines about obsessing over the “perfect gift” – I’ve seen some really fun ones as well.  These five episodes can be enjoyed any time of year, but they’re even better around the yuletide.

“My Own Personal Jesus” (Scrubs – Season 1, Episode 11)

Right off the bat, you have Turk’s childlike Christmas excitement compared to everyone else’s holiday fatigue (I love J.D. and Carla lethargically discussing their least favorite parts of the season, as well as J.D.’s forced cheerfulness about going to mass for “some church crackers!”)  The show doesn’t touch on Turk’s faith a lot, but it always does a nice job when it comes up, and it’s at its best here.  I like the storyline of the particularly ugly Christmas Eve on-call that leaves Turk leaving hopeless and abandoned, and his desire to find a sign that God is looking out for everyone who’s hurting.  Plus, how can you not love Dr. Cox as the Grinch?

“The Bath Gift Item Hypothesis” (The Big Bang Theory – Season 2, Episode 11)

Okay, I know I just griped about “finding the perfect gift” tropes, but it’s amusingly subverted here with Sheldon’s logic-fueled attempts to anticipate the value of Penny’s gift to him and find an exact equivalent.  I love the ending, which offers one of the first “sweet Sheldon” moments of the show.  Leonard’s right – it is “a Saturnalia miracle!”

“Comparative Religion” (Community – Season 1, Episode 12)

Sure, it’s a little convenient that every member of the study group is a different religion (and even more convenient that some of these religions are forgotten 98% of the time,) but it leads to a good storyline with Shirley’s put-the-Christ-in-Christmas party.  And we can’t forget the Dean as Mr. Winter, the over-the-top PC, completely nonspecified holiday figure of his own creation.

“An Eric Forman Christmas” (That ‘70s Show – Season 4, Episode 12)

Of course Eric’s efforts to direct the church Christmas pageant are plagued with mishaps and nearly doomed to failure.  His friends’ outrageous demands for their roles are excellent, I love the visual of Pastor Dave tied up with Christmas lights, and the “circle discussion” about Christmas specials is a classic (I especially like Kelso fiercely defending Rudolph’s sexuality.)

“How Lily Stole Christmas” (How I Met Your Mother – Season 2, Episode 11)

Here’s a Christmas episode with a bit of a bite, since it’s all about a feud between Lily and Ted that starts when she discovers the horrible, unnamed word he called her when she and Marshall were broken up.  Stealing all the Christmas decorations is very Aldrin justice – the visual of all of it hanging up in her tiny apartment is terrific – and the whole plot gives us some great scenes between Lily and Ted.  I also love Marshall’s stint playing Santa’s helper for the U.S. postal service.

Kings (2009)

 

After a while, it gets a little repetitive to say “X is unlike anything else on television,” but Kings is so novel that it isn’t readily described.  I remember watching it on NBC when it first aired – I’d been drawn in by the premise, but the show itself didn’t seem to be living up to its potential, and for a few weeks, I watched with an entertained but slightly inattentive air.  Still, I was disappointed when it was canceled and made a point to seek it out when the remaining episodes were burned off during the summer.

 

Somewhere along the line, though, Kings became something wonderful.  I can’t quite pinpoint the when, where, or why.  It’s wholly possible that I wasn’t giving it the proper focus to start with, or that the show comes together in retrospect – whenever I rewatch it now, it seems awesome from start to finish, and I can’t figure out why it didn’t grab me right away.

 

Kings is a present-day, alternate-universe retelling of the biblical story of David.  In the fictional country of Gilboa, modern technology, media, and weaponry meet a ruling monarchy where the king talks to God and has visions from heaven.  He and his capital city are rocked by the arrival of David Shepherd, a young Gilboan solider who made headlines when he stood up to an enemy tank.  Salt-of-the-earth, guileless David navigates his newfound celebrity status, looking for signs of God in his life and trying to stay on the good side of the often-tempestuous royal family.

 

Most TV shows that take place outside the real world are sci-fi or fantasy (like Battlestar Galactica or Game of Thrones,) and even shows with fantastical elements often ground them in real-life settings (like Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Dead Like Me.)  Kings, however, is in some ways a standard drama that puts time and effort into world-building that’s generally relegated to genre pieces:  Gilboa has its own emblems, flags, and bordering countries, its own history separate from ours.  The lush art direction has a sharp eye for detail, and despite the familiarity of the modern-day trappings, you never lose sight of the fact that this is somewhere new.

 

The dialogue has an elevated, almost Shakespearian flair that goes well with the loftiness of the drama.  Exalted speech trips fluently off of King Silas’s tongue, and David speaks an interesting mix of earthy and poetic.  With political puppet theater, prophetic dreams, and fatal flaws, there’s an old-world feel to the plot, stories that don’t get told much anymore.  The biblical source material is cleverly incorporated and reimagined, but the show has its own story to tell as well.  Sadly, there’s only twelve episodes, and the ending far from resolves matters, but numerous threads that seem disparate early on entwine to create a vivid tapestry by season’s end.

 

The whole show is propelled by a strong ensemble of fascinating characters.  The royal family is a narrative feast, and David makes a good, conflicted hero, a man trying to do his best under massively difficult circumstances.  Chris Egan gives a fine performances, and the rest of the cast, which includes Ian McShane, Sebastian Stan (the Winter Soldier!), Eomann Walker, Susanna Thompson, and Macaulay Culkin (surprisingly great in a supporting role), is sublime.

 

Warnings

 

Sexual content, swearing, drinking, a few drug references, violence, and thematic elements.

Further thoughts on C.O.G.

 

I didn’t get a chance to get to it yesterday, but I want to talk about the way C.O.G. addresses religion.  For a film, the portrayal is surprisingly complex, and the fact that the whole story is viewed through the eyes of a young gay man who’s an atheist makes it all the more noteworthy.

 

David’s first encounters with Christianity begin immediately in small ways – he summarily dismisses an ex-con convert who accosts him on the bus, and at the orchard’s living quarters, he awkwardly slips into bed while the mostly Roman Catholic migrant workers are kneeling in prayer.  When he first meets Jon, an artist/sidewalk evangelist who is equal parts tenacious, affable, and irritating, David shuts him down at every turn.  However, when he’s in a tight part and in need of help, Jon offers it no questions asked.

 

Jon is a fantastic character, complicated and ridiculous and full of dramatic potential.  He’s 90% relentlessly cheerful and 10% kneejerk vicious.  With almost no thought at all, he takes David in and enlists him as an “apprentice” in his makeshift studio, making pieces to sell at an upcoming fair.  He teaches David everything he knows about his artform (carving jade) and shares his living space, his colorful past (complete with alcoholism, a prosthetic leg, and a rock-bottom come-to-Jesus moment,) and his religion.  Throughout their time together, he not-so-subtly nudges David toward Christianity – asking pointed questions, waking him at 6:30 for Sunday-morning church services, and praying aloud before work every day.  He’s a little kooky, and he assures David that “it’s all right to joke with the Lord” because “He likes it.”

 

On the other hand, Jon’s idea of Christianity is pretty skewed.  He tends to equate Christianity with charity; he’s full of brotherly love and good will when a fellow church family opens their doors to him, but the minute they hint that his welcome is wearing thin, they’re no longer “good Christians” in his eyes.  His own charitable spirit, however, is ultimately conditional.  The film lays enough groundwork for this that it’s clear David’s position is precarious, and yet it’s still shocking when a perceived slight from David prompts a stark reveal of Jon’s ugly side.  It’s one of those movie moments that has you holding your breath, and you simply can’t look away.

 

Jon provides the film’s most prominent and most nebulous handling of Christianity, but he’s not alone.  Martha, one half of the couple that houses Jon and David for a time, treats David kinder than anyone else in the movie.  On her part, we see honest concern and caring with no real agenda.  Whether she’s performing hosting duties, helping David with the tie for his borrowed church clothes, or gently hinting that she knows of his family troubles, she’s a calming presence in his life and captures a simple but genuine spirit of Christianity. 

 

And of course, there’s the scene in which David finally comes forward in church to accept Christ.  It’s not entirely clear why he does it – if he believes, if he’s in a dark place and desperate for a home, if he’s caught up in the moment – but it’s so interesting.  David is perhaps barer than we’ve ever seen him as he stands before the crowd and begs God for forgiveness.  Yet, at the same time, this new family is unknowingly denouncing him at the same time it welcomes him, as the pastor encourages him to ask God to help him find a wonderful woman, get married, and have children.  There’s just so much to mull over.  Considering the number of films that offer up very flat depictions of Christianity, I really appreciate it.