After being squeezed between two suffocating rocks for 148 pages, one is hard-pressed to fully identify the emotion.  Is it rage?  Confusion?  Is it the vague sense that something is wrong with the world?  Is the killing of twins a wrong that deserves redress from outsiders with equally-troubling convictions?

Who can say?

Achebe’s classic has sold over two million copies.  I first read the book in college as a green anthropology student.  It was since brought back to my attention through a student and I decided to revisit it.  And it was worth the trip.

Short, yet gripping, Things Fall Apart is the story of Okwonko, a much-lauded, brooding man of the Umuofia clan of the Igbo tribe.  He is a well-known wrestler and warrior with ambitions in his tribe.  He has a large compound, prosperous yams, and many children.  He is molded into the ways of his tribe to the point where he follows the laws and customs to the letter, going so far as to condemn himself to exile for the good of his clan.

Over time, the white man comes to the villages in the Lower Niger bringing more than their skin.  Christianity and British-style government – strange customs indeed – arrive to upset the delicate balance between tribesman and tribesman, tribesman and stranger, and tribesman and gods.  Things Fall Apart carefully documents the life of the tribe, through Okonkwo, in all of its wisdom and harshness, setting them against the European colonization later in the book when we can no longer decide who should take credit and blame.

So much of misunderstanding is forged in the uneasy balance between what we are convinced is right, and what others know is true.  We often forget that when we come to another with a truth, it is often only as a guest in someone else’s home.  Achebe’s brutal reminder is that even a doomed hero such as Okwonko may not deserve his own fate, no matter how we judge him by our own standards.

Things Fall Apart is a slice of life.  A mere portrait in a gallery of such stories of tradition in the face of progress.  But it is worth a look.  I would ask, however, that as you take in the color and patterns of the delicate painting, do not be quick to judge it.  For, even as you turn the pages, you may find yourself streaked, smeared, and on trial.

-josh

Of course, I had to tune in.  It’s right in our wheelhouse here at Orumai, right?

Maybe.

The show is the latest offering from writer David Hudgins (“Friday Night Lights”) and is based on M.J. Rose’s book, “The Reincarnationinst”.

Gruff, cynical Price Whatley (Nicholas Bishop), an ex-NYPD homicide detective turned investigator, and the uber-believer Dr. Kate McGinn (Kelli Giddish) work together to solve crimes with the help of McGinn’s patients who experience flashes from past lives.

Great premise.  Strange execution.

Right from the off, something seemed amiss in the pilot.  A boy is playing basketball.  He goes to retrieve the ball from a hallway and sees a swimming pool.  Suddenly he flashes back to a scene of abuse…someone is being tortured?  Hit with something?  Grabbed?  We’re not sure.  It’s pretty choppy, as a flashback probably would be.

Desperate for help, he and his mother arrive at McGinn’s office run by Dr. Malachi Talmadge (Richard Schiff), whose name is on the door of the institute.  Through the boy’s flashbacks, and some extremely helpful, yet grief-stricken parents, McGinn and Whatley solve the crime with the help of the FBI.

*Whew!* That’s a lot.

Choppy and a bit disjointed, the show moves along to its conclusion amicably, though with many convenient turns, overly-grim settings, and unanswered questions.  One must certainly suspend disbelief.

And not in the way you might think.

I’m not referring to belief in reincarnation or other spiritual phenomena.  Those are left up to each individual (although the show smacks us about the head with them until we are bruised into skeptical submission).  I refer instead to the many leaps and bounds one must ignore for the show to hold.  In one scene McGinn exposes the boy to triggers while Whatley shoots footage.  Apparently she is trying to trigger his past life memories.  Now, I only have an LMSW, but I can say that that might not be my first attempt at “therapy” right out of the gate.  Also, the boy never seems to receive treatment.  Rather he seems to be used as a crime-fighting pawn for murder-solving, masquerading under the guise of therapy.  Supposedly, the solved crime will win his psychological freedom.

I’m not a psychiatrist.  I’m not an investigator.  And I am not (as far as I know) haunted by past life memories.  But I can say that as a viewer, the show seemed to be a caricature, with characters acting out parts instead of being immersed in the sensitivity of their roles.  It came across as “I don’t believe, but I might!” and “I do believe, so there!”

I do applaud some things about “Past Life”.  I am glad to see a network taking on such an interesting topic so extensively in prime time.  Furthermore, the show may spawn increased interest and understanding in topics that are important not only to folks in the ‘new age’, but those who possess certain beliefs such as reincarnation as part of their religious value systems.

Bravo for that.

Let us hope that “Past Life” can resurrect itself into a more riveting portrayal of something very interesting, instead of another Hollywood imprisonment of a liberating topic.

We’ve heard it before, right?

Well, sometimes we see a classic movie from the past that seems to make that tidy little phrase come together in a way that we, and the director, did not expect.

And so it is with Stanley Kubrick’s 1964 masterpiece, “Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb”.  Its true genius is that it was mocking the unchanging nature of war and politics in decades, and centuries, that were not yet come to pass.  This timelessness is the hallmark of many creations with staying power.  Consider a great book with timeless themes of power and darkness or a work of art that speaks to our sensibilities about love, sex, and enduring creativity.

And then, there’s the simple and complex motif of war…

In Kubrick’s world, as the bombing planes are set on their course for destruction inside Soviet Russia under Attack Plan R, a small group of D.C. insiders waits. And hopes.  And prays.  And so do the Soviets.  The world has no idea what is about to hit it.  Literally.

And neither do we!

Will the blunder of so few be the destruction of so many?  Do we love the bomb for its scare power, even when that fright is turned back on us?  I guess in this scenario, war is easy to make but hard to take.

Strangelove’s cast reads like a who’s who of Hollywood, and for this alone it is worth 95 minutes of your time.  Peter Sellers is of course impeccable in his three roles as Strangelove, President Muffley, and Captain Mandrake.  George C. Scott’s caricatured General Turgidson can make us bristle with horror at who may be at the helm of our weapons, or thankful for modern-day screening procedures.  Slim Pickens, Stirling Hayden, and James Earl Jones round out the bitter romp as men trapped in an unintended massacre, either by psychosis or duty.

As we are taken on this comical, nail-biting journey with the U.S. and Russian brass, we are swept away into a world that could very well be ours today.  Sure, the pieces have moved around the board a little and the hardware has changed, becoming somewhat more sophisticated, but what Stranglelove asks us, even if unintentionally, is “Does it matter what weapons we use if human nature stays the same?”

Watch Dr. Strangelove for yourself and decide if times have changed.  If you decide times have indeed changed, the next question you must ask is: for better or for worse?

-josh

It’s a word that can stir us to our core.  Passion is something that can not only drive our lives, but give it such meaning and purpose that we feel we simply would not…could not…be complete without it.

Often, movies inspire us to bigger and better things – not because of their box office totals or the stars that grace the cast, but because when we see people on the big screen living a life in passion, we often want to emulate that.  We admire it.  We cherish it in others, and in ourselves.

So, last night, when someone I know asked if I wanted to join them in a screening of Giuseppe Tornatore’s Cinema Paradiso (1990-USA release), well, I said…Sure!

After all, I hear it’s the signature movie of the Palm Springs International Film Festival, which I try to faithfully attend.  And it is a movie for movie lovers.  So, what could go wrong?  I already knew the basic premise:  A mid-20^th century Sicilian boy is captivated at an early age with the projection booth in his local cinema, and his life unfolds around his relationship to the cinema’s projector, and its people.

Genius.

And, for the most part, it is.

When we opened the package, I noticed there were two versions…the original release and the director’s cut.  Since I had not seen it before, I lobbied for the DC.  My viewing mates had already seen the original, so it was unanimous.  I plucked the new cut from the box and away we went.

Right from the off, I was completely captivated with Cinema Paradiso’s awesome simplicity.  When we first meet our passionate protagonist, Salvatore (the impeccable Salvatore Cascio), he is simply a troublemaking imp under the shoe of his mother (Antonella Attili), his priest (Leopolt Trieste), and his projectionist father-figure Alfredo (Philippe Noiret).  Salvatore is young alright, but he’s old enough to know what really matters in the movies he loves!

As the days pass in the life of Salvatore, so much of life is projected not only onto the screen of the small theater, but also through its aisles, as the children, men, and women of the small town come of age under the watchful gaze of film.  What is so striking is that in 1940s Italy, the rest of the world might as well not exist for little Salvatore, for he learns to live, love, and laugh, even as he runs the projector in his local Cinema.

But times change and the winds of history blow inevitability into life, and as Salvatore pursues the dreams in his own real-life drama, I was quite swept away in his story, simple as it is.  After all, one sees that his investment in movies is so great that we just have to see the payoff.  However, I found myself having difficulty connecting with certain scenes.  As I had never seen the theater release, I didn’t know which scenes were inserted, however, I shared my discomfort with my friends who indicated to me that yes, one of the story-line progressions had indeed been added in the DC.

I already knew the ending.  I couldn’t wait for it.

But the intervening, seemingly-endless minutes of added footage seemed to sap the movie of much of its emotion.  My fellow viewers agreed.  Unfortunately, unlike them, I will never be able to see the movie ‘for the first time’ without knowing about the added scenes, and I feel that somehow, when I do watch the full version, it will be diminished.

All I can say is that spaced around what feels like an egotistical choice on the part of the director, there is a movie full of place, people, love, and, yes, passion.

If you haven’t seen Cinema Paradiso, you’ll have to make the choice whether to view the DC version or not.  That is up to you.

But what you will not get to choose is your emotion.  If you are not swept away by Salvatore’s journey in this truly touching film, then perhaps you need more passion in your own life.

If you do?

Well, then go see a movie today.

-josh

That Zen saying greeted me as I turned on iZen Garden 2, the latest version of this glorious garden, from Random Ideas ($2.99) – the company that brought you Joy of Being (also reviewed on this site).  I paused for a few moments to think about the saying and came up with some ideas about what it could mean.

I won’t share them here.

Anyway, after I downloaded the program to my iPhone 3Gs, I settled in on a dark, rainy day to test it.  I was looking forward to the experience, as I love products intended to help the user relax, or at least feel a little better!

I went into the program, tapped the introductory screen, and brought up my menu choices.  I clicked the hand holding the stone and started to explore.  I felt like I was in a gardening store buffet, with tons of choices!

I selected the “Elements” tab and was greeted with many options of items to place in my garden.  There are rocks, fossils, leaves, flowers, shells, and more.  The graphic are exceptional, and I had a hard time choosing.  I selected “Yellow Lily 3” and was taken back to my blank sand patch, quietly awaiting the flower to be placed upon it.  Pinching the flower shrunk the size, and expanding the fingers enlarged it.  It was a little awkward at times, as I really had to get used to squeezing my fingers in an organized fashion, but that is a natural issues with the i-screen size.  A simple touch and drag moved the flower to my desired location.  I filled out the scene with a “Sliced Nautilus,” “Pearly Shell,” and a “Buddha,” creating a nice little scene.  Under “Environment,” I was able to choose from four different sand colors (I chose a golden yellow), and could customize a rake of various depths and widths.  One can even choose to have the rake make a noise as it drags through the sand.  Under “Sounds” I chose a light rain shower to round out the scene.

Why would I choose this sound on a rainy day?  I was in the mood for irony.  Let it go, as the Zen master might say…

I went back to my little garden and drew my index finger around the elements, making swirls and whorls while taking in the sound.  A simple shake of the phone allowed me to clear the sand marks and start over.

At this point my front door rang and I became engaged in a conversation with angry (but nice) neighbors regarding a proposed cell tower in the community.  When I unlocked my phone after going back into my room, the garden was waiting for me, just as I’d left it – relaxing and happy.

iZen Garden 2 comes with sharing features that allow you to access Facebook, Twitter, and email functions to share your garden with others.  I tested the email capability and sent myself a pic of the garden.  It worked well, and looked good.  I was also able to save a copy of the garden to my iPhone’s film roll with a simple touch.

There is a very comprehensive help function that clearly explains the options and functionality.  There are also helpful notes regarding iZen Garden’s effects on your device’s memory.  This was a nice reminder that although you may want to go nuts with all the great graphics, you’d best follow the Buddha’s middle way of moderation, lest you “strain your device.”  I’m not sure Buddha ever considered his words would apply to a mobile device, but hey, that’s the hallmark of lasting philosophy – general applicability.

Overall, iZen Garden 2 is a great program.  One issue that isn’t a design flaw so much as a conscious choice on the part of the programmer (you can read about this in the ‘Help’ menu) is that when I played the rain sound (which overrode my phone’s mute function), I had to navigate through the program menus to turn it off.  It is not a big deal, but if you are playing with the program and someone comes up to talk to you, you have to do a little work to get the sounds to stop (locking the phone did not stop the sound), unless you simply end the program, which is always an easy solution.  So, problem solved!

Aside from some difficulties trying to figure out the “wallpaper” shortcut functionality, it was really a lot of fun.

I’m still not sure how I feel about my seed not seeing my flower, but I must say, iZen Garden 2 made my rainy day a little brighter.

-josh

You know that old saw…if you aren’t really that experienced in something (or, heck, even if you are), don’t take on every battle that comes your way. Save it. Savor it. Try your hand when the moment is right. Well, I think the same thing applies in Hollywood. Don’t take every piece of schlock that comes down the Walk of Fame.

Pick the moment.

Some actors are gifted. They intuitively know how to do that. Maybe they aren’t always wild-and-crazy successful with each hand-selected piece, but they get the job done really, really well every now and then.

They can pick their spots.

And so it is with George Clooney in Up in the Air, the latest from director Jason Reitman. Clearly Clooney has come to a point in his career where he can pick his roles, and here, he’s plucked a star from constellation avenue.

No, Clooney’s not the whole movie. Not by a longshot. In a story about a man who is looking to lighten his load by sticking to the skies, there have to be compelling reasons to keep one’s feet on the ground, lest the audience take flight as well. Clooney’s supporting cast (Vera Farmiga, Anna Kendrick, Jason Bateman) provides harmony to his pitch-perfect melody, that more than satisfactorily drowns out the screaming children and chatter of this 109-minute flight, with Famiga’s more-than-a-bag-of-peanuts performance as Clooney’s match – literally made-in-heaven – adding to the agonizing drama of a life lived in an effort to avoid just that…drama.

There are no explosions. No ongoing sex scenes. No raging battles, and no self-indulgent prattling about the fleeting of youth. So, what is it? What gives this movie wings?

Well, for starters, it has that quiet…something. The central cast (Clooney, Bateman, Kendrick) is eerily believable as a group of fire-‘em-with-kindness professionals who, at least in the field, seem committed to adding a pinch of dignity to an otherwise awful, and timely deed. And Clooney’s waning devotions to his core philosophy are equally as convincing. You feel like you are actually peering into the life of a faceless drone at a crowded airport.

But these are not the primary ingredients. I think in the end, what draws us is the subtle unfolding of these weightless characters who gently unravel like balls of yarn hanging from plane bellies. We must confront our own attachments and relationships as we watch Clooney soar above his own. When push comes to shove, do we really have shoulders strong enough to support the weight of our lives, or do we flit away at the first sign of true responsibility?

And, maybe most importantly, do we have what it takes to face life squarely with an occasional break? Or do we just want to escape.

Watch Up In the Air with an open and honest mind, and see what you think. Oh, and I find popcorn still rounds out the movie nicely. There will be no need for a small bag of peanuts.

-josh

There is magic in the making…and in the watching.  We can be transported to other worlds or have the mind swept away into ideas, old and new.  Sometimes we are challenged, and sometimes we push back.  In a really good movie, I figure we can have some of these experiences.

Fortunately, in Avatar, we can have all of them.

James Cameron’s latest offering provides us a feast for the senses – all six.  There is a whole new world (similar to earth but…not quite) to explore, called Pandora (let me ruin this for you…yes, the box is opened), a moon in outer space whereupon live the Na’vi, a race of creatures who have human-like qualities, but are a little more…developed.

The movie centers around the human expansion into Na’vi territory to mine a precious mineral called unobtainium.  It’s rare.  It’s expensive.  And a group of Na’vi apparently live right over a mammoth hunk of it.

Humans, in an effort to better ‘understand’ the locals and get a little closer to the unobtainable, infiltrate into Na’vi culture through Avatars, or human-Na’vi hybrids.  It seems the Na’vi are not predisposed to this pillaging of their land, and fight back through various means.  Means that Avatar Jake Sully (Sam Worthington) would like to discover and manipulate.

This set-up alone would provide many movies with all the grist needed for the proverbial mill.  Thank goodness it was not enough for Avatar.

It’s just a starting point.

Something special happens in a darkened theater when the plot we see on the screen is merely a thin veil to the true story underneath.  It isn’t just about the inevitable love or violence that provides so many moments of conflict to push the story ahead.  No.  It’s more than that.  It’s deeper than the hand-crafted language or special effects.  It’s more intricate than battle scenes.  It’s certainly far more complex than the oft-muddied waters of good-guy vs. bad-guy.

In Avatar, we get a rare glimpse at a spiritual subtext that points the sixth finger at the audience, challenging it to take a look at themselves at a deeper level.  What does it mean to have a commitment to earth, tribe, and soul?  Are we stewards, shepherds, or destroyers?  When we blaze the paths of the unknown into love, language, or riches, do we stop to consider the deeper meanings behind these journeys, and are we truly prepared to unravel complex paradoxes in pursuit of a goal that is more than the sum of its gold?

Avatar sometimes doesn’t so much ask these questions, as hurl them into our faces on Na’vi-styled, poison arrows.  At times, we are transported to that ill-fated voyage where Jack Dawson exclaims he is “king of the world!”  Ugh.  But understand what you are getting into when you go.  You are there to witness the progression of movie-making to the next level in addition to hearing a good tale.  We are captive for over 150 minutes after all, and there should be much destruction and gnashing of teeth – both human and Na’vi – to keep you interested and on the edge of your seat.

But in the end, there are questions we need to address.  Big questions.

However, the joy of Avatar is not that I’ve answered them.  No.  It’s that I’m still thinking about them.

-josh