Crazy Kroc Memorial

We visited the Crazy Horse Memorial, shortly after visiting Mount Rushmore. Both, as you know, are mountainsides turned into gi-normous sculptures of American heroes.

At Crazy Horse, tucked in among other statues by artist Ziolkowski, was a bust of Ray Kroc, apparently a friend of the sculptor.

My niece saw Ray’s visage, and wanted to know who that guy was. We informed her that he founded McDonalds.

Her face scrunched up as she asked, “You mean they almost put him on the mountain?”

We laughed at the notion, realizing how inappropriate it would be to put him up there, flanked by 100-foot arches.

But then again, such crass commercialism is oddly appropriate, given much of the focus of this “fast food nation.”

Makes me wonder what other inappropriately appropriate people we should carve into our mountains.

Ideas, anyone?

Just my thoughts,

Sean

Signs of the Times

One can tell a lot about a state based on its billboards.

For example, Nevada is mostly interested in three things: gambling, what shows can be seen while gambling, and what foods can be eaten cheaply while gambling.

What they haven’t learned is that places with names like “Gas & Go” should not lead by bragging about their discount breakfast meats.

Utah has a lot of signs asking drowsy drivers to exit the road; just one way the state admits that they can be a bit boring.

Utah also has a remarkable number of billboards advertising “modest” swimwear; whereas California does public service by showcasing exactly what “modest swimwear” means – by negative example.

So far, Wyoming’s billboards we've seen have been monopolized by the hotel in Little America. This town has a population of 56. Yea, 56.

The hotel has 150 rooms. Just about three rooms for each resident. So I guess we can’t fault them for overselling in an attempt to bring in outsiders.

Only so often can you rent a room to cousin Leo before you're desperte for a tourist or two to stop by.

Just my thoughts,

Sean

Is She Crazy? You Decide!

I have to say that I was a bit taken aback when I got my Reader's Digest this month. The cover picture and caption was... Well, sure, who hasn't thought it, but RD seems gentler than this.

The tabloids are expected to have a contest where the audience decides the sanity of any particular star. But RD?

Cuthroat, man.

It actually took a while of staring at the full cover before I realized that Miss Jolie wasn't suffering from backstabbing journalism, so much as poor cover layout.

Just my thoughts,

Sean

Galactica Catch Up Time

Sci-fi channel is hosting a BATTLESTAR GALACTICA marathon – you can see pretty much the entire last season in three days starting Wednesday – tomorrow.

Reasons that you should care:

1) In spite of what you may think of sci-fi, BG is one of the best shows on television – writing, acting, directing, production.

2) BG is perhaps the most relevant show on television in terms of addressing post 9/11 culture.

3) BG is challengingly even-handed in addressing our world and culture – giving you opportunity to stretch your thinking as well as be entertained.

4) BG doesn’t shy away from deep and dangerous – deep and dangerous thoughts, emotions, psychology, etc.

For example, in one episode this season, a character makes an argument for one aspect of the Gospel. Not the mamby-pamby feel-good Gospel of American marketers, but the this-is-different-than-the-world, in-your-face Good News of Jesus and Paul.

And the argument was given in such a way, under such circumstances, and with such Truth that I fully understood why a guy would get stoned or beaten or beheaded or crucified for talking such talk.

In fact, I wasn’t so sure that I wouldn’t have been the first one to toss a stone at the guy. Fortunately, I live on the mythical Earth and not in exodus, so I didn’t have to act on my choices…

5) BG is on-the-edge-of-your-seat entertaining.

Let me give you a clue as to how exciting: in the finale, someone will say something that changes everything. EVERYTHING. One of those “you did not just say that” things. The ba-da-dum!! type thing. The thing that any other show would fade to black on, putting up the “to be continued” sign.

But there is no fade after “the thing” is said; rather, the writers tease us by showing how those impacted by the news choose to live their lives – despite Everything changing, we see who these characters really are.

Which, trust me, is even more shocking and wonderful than “the thing.”

Oh, and then later, someone pops up and says something else that changes everything, and we fade to black and the “to be continued” sign pops up.

So, if you like having your cake and eating it too; if you like stories that challenge in a good way, if you like your sci-fi to rock your entertainment world, catch up with Battlestar Galactica – so I can finally talk to you about that amazing last episode!!!

Just my thoughts,

Sean

PS The Sci-fi Channel HEROES marathon starts on Saturday!

If It Applies...

I heard an odd little phrase on the radio today.

The nice voice of NPR said, “Have a happy Mothers’ Day.”

Okay, that wasn’t odd. But the follow up was: “Have a happy Mothers’ Day, if that applies.”

If that applies? When wouldn’t it apply?

Upon reflection, I suppose she meant, “if you are a mother.”

I’ve never thought of Mother’s Day as being exclusive to mommies, like Valentine’s Day to lovers, or Easter to Christians, or St. Patrick’s Day to people who like to drink beer.

It always seemed more to me like Presidents’ Day, which is meant as a day for everyone to honor Presidents and buy discounted bed linens. Sure, George slept in a lot of places, and Abe has a famous bedroom, but those sales couldn’t be just for them, could they?

So if you are a mother, happy Mother’s day. And if you aren’t a mother, happy Mother's Day to you too.

Just my thoughts,

Sean

Feed...

From THE IRRATIONAL SEASON, Madeleine L'Engle:

The Church is not immune from the bigger-is-better heresy. One woman told of going to a meeting where only a handful of people turned out, and these faithful few were scolded by the visiting preacher for the sparseness of the congregation. And she said indignantly, “Our Lord said feed my sheep, not count them!” I often feel that I’m being counted, rather than fed, and so I am hungry.

Just repeating her thoughts,

Sean

The Show Goes On

I wore my superhero t-shirt today. No, not one with a bat symbol, or a spider, but the one with the “SH” logo in the corner, and “Suspension of Disbelief” on the back.

This t-shirt is a souvenir from a play I wrote a few years back, directed by friend Jennifer Schuchmann and performed at the American Heritage Academy in Georgia.

The play, “Superhero High,” is about a school for the super-powered. For the special effects, we used stage hands – manipulating things on poles, lifting kids in the air, etc.

The magic was in the audience being unable to see the stagehands, a trick we pulled off by having them wear t-shirts that said things like, “You can’t see me,” “I’m not here,” and “Suspension of disbelief.”

I got me a t-shirt from the cast when it was done.

I’m wearing the shirt in honor of the fact that the school is performing a new play of mine this weekend, “Deadline,” with music and lyrics by Tony Troy.

It is odd – not the piece, but the fact that I won’t be there this year to see it.

I should be used to it – as a playwright, I do not get to see the majority of my plays in production. In fact, those where the rights are obtained through a publisher like Lillenas or a company like Taproot – I usually don’t even know the work is being staged until my quarterly statement arrives months after closing night.

But this is different – maybe because the director, Jennifer, is such a good friend.

Or because this is the world premiere, and I have no idea how well the writing holds up.

Or maybe I want to be in a room where everybody is celebrating something that I had a hand in.

Do folks that work on assembly lines seek out the cars on the street that they had a hand in? Ask the owner how she handles the road?

Do grocery clerks get tempted to call patrons at night and see how that frozen pizza worked out?

Do hotel maids desire to hide in the closet, to see the look on the guest’s face when he sees how neatly the blankets have been folded over, or if the triangle fold on the tp is appreciated?

Maybe they should.

Just my thoughts,

Sean

Counting Sheep

A friend of mine is a graduate of a prominent Christian university. As part of a fundraiser, and in celebration of the school, the alumni have been asked to count and send in the number of people that they have saved.

My friend wrote an angry response to this request.

I can see why she thinks the campaign it is a bad idea.

How do you think Jesus will feel when he finds out, and realizes that they saved more people than he has?

It seems mean, feeding his low self-esteem.

Just my thoughts,

Sean

"A writer ought to comfort the afflicted, and afflict the comfortable."

– Mark Twain


Quote courtesy of CS Weekly

What do Twitchy and Zach Braff have in common?

Check it out: http://coryscuriosities.blogspot.com/

And, for my friend Cory, may I say: Wahoo!

Just my thoughts,

Sean

"I found out life's hard, but it ain't impossible."

-August Wilson

Don't Drive Away From Home Without It

Sean & I are planning a road trip to South Dakota in 3 weeks.

So, I'm filling up the ipod with lots of good tunes. And I wondered ... what are your favorite road trip tunes (songs, artists, albums, compilations)?

Please write in with your favorites.

Just to get an idea of our eclectic tastes, here's a small sampling of the ipod collection so far:

Lots of soundtracks - including Big River, Little Shop of Horrors, Hoodwinked, Fellowship the musical, Little Mermaid, The Commitments, etc (we like to sing along!)

Sean's story music - Harry Chapin, Roger Miller

My 80's music - B-52's Cosmic Thing, Huey Lewis & The News

And then random stuff - The Monkeys, The Mills Brothers & Boswell Sisters, Norah Jones, Katie Freeze, Sting, Amy Grant, etc.


We're waiting to read your responses!

If you had to drive for 22 hours tomorrow, what music would you HAVE TO HAVE with you?

Happy Birthday Annette!

April 29th, is my sister's birthday!

Last week, my great aunt, Marge, sent me a package that included this postcard. (It was found wile going through her mother-in-law's belongings after great, great aunti donna had passed away.)

I find this piece of history to be amazing:

1) Check out the date stamp: April 30th - that means my mom sent these out the day after Annette was born... or had them all ready to go, and someone else filled out the details and sent them. Either way, she was WAY too organized!

2) A postcard stamp was only 6 cents. Wild!

3) It was mailed from Half Moon Bay...that just makes me happy. That was our first home (til I was about 10).

4) The little elf on the front side cracks me up. How's that for a slice of early 70s art?

5) She was born at 5:39 in the morning. I never knew that. I wonder if she'll mind if I call her at that exact time tomorrow?

6) I was 8lb 12oz. Annette was 8lb 14oz. Mom stopped before she had a 9lb baby!!

7) I am so grateful to Marge for sending this to me and in awe that Aunti Donna held on to it for so long. Thanks for the memories!

I love you Annette!
--cath

PS: More trivia: Not only do Sean & I have dads with the same name - Wayne...but we both have sisters with April 29th birthdays. So - Happy Birthday Mary! Sorry, I couldn't find your birth announcement postcard.

Niche Nice or Niche Nasty?

A collision of friends --

Jeff Overstreet recently posted an article about the recent Biola Media conference.

Favorite quote from the article comes from friend Dean Batali:

"When asked if it's inappropriate to complain about the quality of films that present the gospel, Batali answered, "This is my frustration: The gospel written on toilet paper still saves lives. There's power in the gospel.""

I didn't make the conference this year, but am well aware of the "faith film" debate.

The most striking contradiction here to me is the notion that "Christian film" should be a niche market, potentially relegated to theatres in churches, and yet:

"(Mark) Joseph points out that Christians represent the vast majority of the American public. "Ninety percent believe in God," he says. "Eighty percent call themselves Christians, and 47 percent are evangelical. Those are not 'niche numbers.' FoxFaith should become FoxNormal. The rest should be called FoxSecular—they're the niche audience.""

The problem, as I see it, is word definition. We are using one word for two different things, and that word is the adjective "Christian."

I tried to explain this to some WB execs -- Hollywood wants the audience of THE PASSION and CHRONICLES, a decidedly "Christian" audience. Therefore, many producers are setting up faith divisions, and immediately going to the evangelical subculture for material.

And that is where semantics are causing problems.

Many at the conference, as quoted within, are using "Christian" to mean "evangelical;" several would even define the word further as "right-wing, conservative, American, Republican evangelicals."

That is the ghetto that is being spoken of.

And yet PASSION included in its definition of "Christian" audience": Catholics, mainline Protestants, non-Americans, post-modernists, emergents, as well as moderate and (egads!) liberal Evangelicals and a whole lot of Jesus freaks that do not fall into any of those categories.

There are two markets out there -- the ghetto ("let's-only-show-this-to-people-in-churches") market, and the Christian ("we-believe-in-Jesus") market.

Hey, here's an idea: Let's not claim that Christ only has value to the converted niche while allowing ourselves to be content when the choir sees our movies.

Instead, let's make movies that address the broader Christ, and invite the world to share in the good news.

Just my thoughts,

Sean

ps I am slowly working my way through Jeff Overstreet's book, THROUGH A SCREEN DARKLY. Why slowly? Because (borrowing from Jeff's BABETTE'S FEAST reference) this book is a rich meal that deserves attention to each delicious morsel.

Renewed Passions

Producers of the world take note.

The soap PASSIONS was cancelled, with the end date set.

My wife is cast as Caterer #1, speaks three lines, and BAM!

The soap gets picked up for another season.

Coincidence? I think not.

Just my thoughts,

Sean

Picture This

In need of a soul break, I went to friend Norris' site and meandered through this artist's photos.

Some shots to make one smile; some a cause for introspection. Several marvels at the artist's eye and gift.

All in all, a nice mini-vacation in the middle of the day.

Just my thoughts,

Sean

Act One Ad

ROAD TO HOLLYWOOD STARTS IN SAN JOSE, CA –

SCREENWRITERS’ WORKSHOP PLANNED

Each year, hundreds of aspiring screenwriters flock to Hollywood with scripts in their hands and stars in their eyes. This year, Hollywood is coming to them. Next stop? San Jose, CA.

Act One, Inc., a Los Angeles-based training program for writers and other film industry professionals, is partnering with Valley Christian Schools to present the Act One Screenwriting Weekend, a conference for professional and aspiring screenwriters. The workshop, slated for May 4-5, 2007 at the school’s Skyway Campus, is an intense, practical overview of screenwriting basics, the current film market, and the Christian’s responsibility to engage popular culture.

Participants will study the craft of screenwriting – from story development and structure to character, dialogue and screenplay format – with a group of accomplished Hollywood professionals, including television writer and producer Dean Batali (That 70’s Show, Buffy The Vampire Slayer) and screenwriter and Azusa Pacific University Associate Professor Dr. Thomas Parham (JAG, Touched By An Angel).

“San Jose’s proximity to Hollywood, and the Bay Area’s vibrant community of professional artists makes it the perfect location for our seminar,” says Conference Coordinator Lauri Evans Deason. “And we’re thrilled to join Valley Christian Schools in their quest for excellence - providing new inspiration for local writers who share our common goals of artistry, professionalism, and spirituality.”

The seminar begins at 3:30 p.m. Friday with an afternoon session for registered participants. It continues with a 7:30 p.m. screening and panel discussion with the faculty, open to anyone interested in film and its influence on popular culture. The conference concludes Saturday with a full day of instruction from 10 a.m.- 5 p.m. The registration fee, which includes study materials and breakfast and lunch on Saturday, is $195. A $20 discount is available for students and groups of ten or more. Further information and online registration is available through the Act One website at www.actoneprogram.com or by calling 323-464-0815. Space is limited, and early registration is encouraged.

Tickets for the Friday evening session only are $10 and are available at the door.

Act One, Inc. is a non-profit, interdenominational training and mentorship program designed to train people of faith for careers in mainstream film and television. The organization is endorsed by Hollywood Connect, Premise, The Hollywood Prayer Network, MasterMedia International, and several colleges and universities.

MEDIA REQUESTS AND ADDITIONAL INFORMATION

lauri@actoneprogram.com

323-464-0815 x14

Darrow Doubts

Ever since I was seven, I wanted to be a lawyer.

I was pretty geeky about it. One of my favorite books to read was READER’S DIGEST: YOU AND THE LAW.

I would memorize terms from it. Probably the only second grader to know that you don’t have to say “Excuse me” after a tort.

I would also study famous court cases, and the speeches of such folks as Clarence Darrow (infamous of the Scopes Monkey Trial, among others).

Oh, it was Clarence’s birthday last week, which is what put me in mind of him.

So, Darrow’s quote of the day:

“Just think of the tragedy of teaching children not to doubt.”

I figure he’s right -- a superficially held belief makes for a weak faith; a storm tested idea makes for a blessed assurance.

The more my faith matures, the more I realize that faith can’t deepen without questions, challenges, and doubts.

That’s another thing that faith and science have in common.

Just my thoughts,

Sean

Critical Angelo

You’ve all probably heard the Michelangelo quote, “Criticize by creating.”

Some folk misunderstand Mike’s meaning, thinking he is saying “Make art that criticizes stuff.”

Actually, what the guy was getting at is more like this: “If you think that statue over there sucks, make a better statue. Then people will stop looking at that bad statue, and start looking at a good statue instead.”

Marilyn vos Savant, the world’s smartest person, said something in a similar vein in this week’s PARADE.

She was giving advice on how to debate about politics, and suggested that one shouldn’t point out what is bad in another’s beliefs – that just makes them defensive.

Instead, she suggested focusing on what is good and worthy in your own beliefs.

For, she says, “People are more likely to adopt new beliefs than to drop old ones…”

It is interesting to me that both American politics and American Christianity seem to operate more on the “attack what is wrong with the other fellow” approach.

I wonder, does this suggest we really aren’t looking to change opinions, but only solidify the true believers?

And what does that say of our politics, or our faith?

I’m starting to think that we’ve all just given up on trying to think of good things to say about where we stand…

Just my thoughts,

Sean

Brush the Tips of Both Hands Up and Down...

I recently had the pleasure of dining with a gentleman named Art. He is a sprite of a fellow, the kind where age brings sparkly wisdom without seeming to decrease youthful vigor.

He spoke of a desire to translate the Bible into sign language, and the problems he has encountered. When in discussion with a theological scholar, it was pointed out that the language transition would raise perhaps too many questions.

You see, sign language is based on transmitting concepts and ideas, rather than words – so a literal translation would not work. The conversion would have to go back to the intended meaning of the author.

As an example, Arthur started translating John 3:16:

“Because G-d had such great love for the…”

First snag – does he love the planet, or the people? The people.

“…The people, therefore he gave his only baby boy so that whosoever believes…”

Hold on, big problem. How to translate the intention of “whosoever?”

The concept is: “It does not matter who.”

And now I get Art’s problem. What are we to do with that?

“It does not matter who.”

But what if they don’t dunk, or misinterpret what “the rock” is, or play music using electric guitars?

“It does not matter who.”

But what if they are sinners, and I mean with the sins that are my pet peeves, and not the okay sins that I regularly engage in?

“It does not matter who.”

But what if they are liberal, or conservative, or don’t vote how I want them to? Or aren’t pro-big business, or don’t recycle, or don’t hate the right people, or don’t love the right people, or are too accepting, or are too restrictive? Or smell, or don’t have a well paying job, or have irritating habits?

“It does not matter who.”

That’s fine and all, but what if they are a loud-mouthed jackbutt with a tv show and a large ministry? Or a loud-mouthed jackbutt with a radio show and a large secular audience?

“It does not matter who.”

Man, I’m glad I don’t have to read the sign language on the wall. It requires too much thought, and frankly, too much Christ. (And that isn't a joke so much as a confession.)

Just my thoughts,

Sean

Courtesy of CS Weekly:

"I say in speeches that a plausible mission of artists is to make people appreciate being alive at least a little bit. I am then asked if I know of any artists who pulled that off. I reply, 'The Beatles did'. "

– Kurt Vonnegut, Timequake

Clare Sailing

I'm not one to brag about successes of friends as if they were my own, boring you with my six degrees of separation and standing just down the block from fame and glory. So I shan't.

Oh, on a personal, unrelated note: Hey, Alice, our friend Clare Sera was mentioned in the Hollywood Reporter.

Just my thoughts,

Sean

Calgary Etchings

Palm Sunday found me in Calgary, Alberta, of all places.

(Only two things about Calgary I knew before this trip – both learned in childhood.

1. The Winter Olympics were there. I learned that by watching tv.
2. Jesus wasn’t crucified there. I learned that by having a priest correct me in front of my first communion class.
   

I worshipped with my friend at Centre Street Church, which holds their big Easter concert on Palm Sunday. One of the many wonderful things within the event was the use of visual art.

As the orchestra played, two artists worked on a black canvas that was draped over a white video screen. The two worked independently, yet their art joined seamlessly.

Then, once the canvas was near full, I noticed them adding what would become a cross through the center of the piece. At first I thought they were using iridescent paint, because the cross glowed – but in looking closer, I realized that they weren’t painting a cross at all.

They were scraping a cross into the painting – etching so deep that the light of the screen behind the painting was shining through. (Apparently they weren’t working on canvas, but rather plexi-glass coated in black paint.)

Okay, this is cool for so many reasons, not one of which was explained to the congregation – we had to have eyes to see for ourselves.

What did I get from it?

That the light of Jesus isn’t a layer that we paint onto ourselves, but only something that shines through us when we get our gunk out of the way.

And that for G-d to shine through us, first he has to scrape. A painter’s version of C.S. Lewis’ Aslan using his claws to painfully, bloodily rip off Eustace’s layer upon layer of dragon scales.

Just my thoughts,

Sean

Sunk Ship

I never was a big fan of the epic disaster movie in general. Most of them seemed like poor excuses to combine massive special effects with a large roster of stars.

But I was a big fan of a few disaster movies in particular. There were some that were a cut above the others; some that found a personal touch within the noise of buildings falling and airplanes crashing.

Now I don’t want to get all overly gushy – even the best come with their own cheese factor. But the good disaster movie is always larger than itself, larger than its effects.

Towering Inferno, for example. After McQueen and Newman part company in that lobby full of bodies -- there is more lingering there then just joy that some of our favorites survived. There is the melancholy of the cost of that survival, as well as respect.

Respect for human life – we understand more about life’s value now – not just because we faced death, but because of how we faced it.

And respect for nature – or the power of G-d if you will – we also understand more the dangers of Babel and the cost of mans hubris.

The good disaster movies do that, anyway.

Which brings me to the remake, Poseidon. I wasn’t expecting much Tivo’ing it on my free HBO weekend; and it lived up to expectation.

The flick started out all right; the cast – Braugher, Dreyfuss, Russell – quite fine, thank you very much.

And it definitely has visual flare and moments of roller coaster ride excitement. It’s just when the ride was over, one is left with nothing more than the wish to have ridden in a different car.

By the time the guy who tried to commit suicide kicks a fellow human being to a horrific death in order to save his own skin, I was made fully aware that this movie would not have a heart.

Oh, that kick was presented as a heart moment – a true moral dilemma, a we-have-to-make-the-hard-choice scene. But Suicide Guy wasn’t allowing one man to die for the greater good – he was allowing one man to die so he and he alone could live.

The Irwin Allen epic of bygone days would have handled that differently. Either Suicide Guy would have come to appreciate the value of life at some point in the journey; or would have realized that there is nothing heroic in sacrificing another for yourself; or would have given his life trying to save Kicked To A Horrible Death Dude.

Sure there are moments of true heroism in this movie; but they are flat, lifeless choices for the most part. We don’t learn more about the characters by their actions, nor do they seem to grow/diminish in the midst of crisis.

(Earl Palmer notes that the root of “crisis” is “moment of distinguishing.)

In the original, The Poseidon Adventure, the choices illuminated the characters to us and to themselves.

When Shelly Winters makes the decision that will ultimately exchange her life for the group, it comes with such heart and heartache – she almost has a joy finding her calling, her moment to redeem her wasted years, to erase her own demon of a poor body image.

“You see Mr. Scott? In the water I’m a very skinny lady.”

In Wolfgang Peterson’s remake, there is no such revelations, no such grace, no such resonance to the deaths that pile up. His film ends with the cast cheering and woohooing upon their rescue; no somber reflection, no meaning to what that rescue cost.

Certainly there is no Reverend Scott, hands burning in his act of sacrifice, Jacob-like in his refusal to let go until the G-d he claimed to no longer believe in grants a blessing and lets these, his sheep, survive.

Nah. That would have meant something.

And it would have made the movie larger than itself.

We simply aren’t aiming that high.

Just my thoughts,

Sean

ps In the original, the ship is left floating upside down, setting us up for the sequel. In the remake, Petersen allows the ship to sink. As if he knew...

Comedy at Bel Air!

Our church drama group is presenting another comedy night. If you are in the LA area, come check it out this Sunday night.

Cath and I have seen most of the acts - including the hamburger juggler (which we saw at the Magic Castle) and the magician (which we saw at McDonalds. Okay, it wasn't at McDonalds, but wouldn't that just be perfect?)

Oh, the juggler is considering balancing a running vacuum cleaner on his face. I haven't seen that before...

Join us for some real laughs!

"I have come to believe that a great teacher is a great artist
and that there are as few as there are any other great artists.
Teaching might even be the greatest of the arts since
the medium is the human mind and spirit."

- John Steinbeck

Empty Hands

As part of Cath and my preparation for Easter, we watched Robert Besson’s striking Diary of a Country Priest during Holy Week.

It is a thoughtful and at times achingly beautiful look at the inner life of a sickly priest dealing with a parish that despises him. (Thank you, Heather, for pushing me to watch this film.)

The movie is built on contradictions and tensions – a priest who painfully searches for G-d’s presence while being moved through His spirit; a congregation that rejects him because they see him as truly good; a life mystically set-apart yet mortally human.

The flick seems built on morsels of food-for-thought; nearly a gorging of simple bites.

One moment that struck me too deeply: the priest kneels at the body of a deceased woman – one whom he had recently (and supernaturally) counseled, resulting in her turning from bitter resentment to resigned contentment. His thoughts:

“I had said to her, ‘Peace be with you,’ and she’d received that peace on her knees. What wonder that one can give what one does not possess! Oh, miracle of our empty hands!”

I often have felt (feel!) empty; I know of the knee bruising, searching for a G-d inexplicably standing at the edge of sensation; I am familiar with eking out spiritual meals using ingredients solely from memory – of ecstasies past, earlier companionship, even the memory of communions yet to come.

And oh! I resonate with the awkward reassurance of being an instrument, of a spirit coursing through me on the way to someone else’s need, desire or whimsy.

To have a time of not hearing the Lord’s voice, save the echo as it is given, ventriloquist like, to an alternate audience!

In a way, is that not itself a communication? Is that not G-d in action, speaking to me by acting through me?

Is that not, in its own way, the answer to the petition, “My G-d, my G-d?”

Oh, miracle of our empty hands!

Just my thoughts,

Sean

Flowers or Fruit

I was walking in our park this week and noticed the flowers on the trees. Beautiful.









The only sad part was that many of the flowers had fallen off and were being trampled on the track.


As I lamented the squished blossoms, God reminded me that the goal of the tree is the FRUIT not the FLOWER.


So, I began to reflect how I mix those up in my life. I really like the good stuff, the big blessings, the "flowers" and I don't like letting go of them at all. But (metaphorically speaking) if I hold on to the flowers forever, I'm stunting my ability to bear fruit. Am I really more concerned with looking pretty? Do I mourn the flowers falling? Do I curse God because it's easier to see the flower part, and sometimes not as quick and easy to see the fruit?


Wondering as I walk...


--Catherine

From the good folk at Mars Hill Audio Journal:

"I may be wrong about this, but it seems that Christian lyricists these days

appropriate the victory before they carry the Cross; or they will rejoice that

Jesus bore the bitter wood for our sins, but do not consider that every one

of our sins was a thorn upon his brow, or a jagged stone to cut his feet

as he fought his slow way up to the Skull Place."

-- Anthony Esolen, "A Sign of Contradiction,"

on Touchstone magazine's Mere Comments blog, March 31, 2007

104,500 And Counting...

My publisher has informed me that LARRYBOY AND THE EMPEROR OF ENVY has had another printing.

I am now over a tenth of the way to having a million books in print -- EMPEROR has 72,500 copies, and LARRYBOY AND THE SINISTER SNOWDAY has 32,000.

Pretty nifty, thinks I.

Just my thoughts,

Sean

Corinthian Sunshine

(Spoiler alert: scenes from LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE are discussed below. Oh, and while I am giving out warnings, LMS is R rated for a reason.)

This Lenten season, my small group has been focusing on St. Paul’s Second Letter to the Corinthians, exploring the notion of “Hope: Seeing Through Tears.”

Our look included chapter three, where Paul talks about how G-d writes on our hearts, and it is He (and not ourselves) that makes us competent and ready for life. Paul goes on to say that with that knowledge, he behaves more boldly.

We got to discussing how we would approach life differently if we also saw ourselves through G-d-eyes. Which got me to thinking about LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE.

There is a scene at the motel before the family arrives at the Little Miss Sunshine Pageant, where Olive expresses her doubts to Grandpa – about both being a winner and being pretty enough. You know the scene – the one that guaranteed a slue of acting nominations for both Abigail Breslin and Alan Arkin.

Grandpa reassures Olive that she is already a winner, because no matter what, she gets to dance. And he tells her she is beautiful, that in fact he is hot for her (and not for her mind!).

It is a beautiful scene, and one that I didn’t get the depth of when I first watched it. And I know I didn’t get it because of how I felt during the pageant scenes.

I felt as Olive’s mom and dad and brother felt – fearful that this contest was going to crush the little girl; that she was going to realize that she wasn’t as pretty or as talented or as adult sexy as the other girls; that she had no hope of winning this contest.

I felt that Olive was going to be shown as a fool.

I have no excuse; Richard and Sheryl and Dwayne didn’t see the scene in the hotel room, so they can be excused. But I should have known better.

You see, Olive couldn’t be shown to be a fool by the pageant; nor could she discover that she wasn’t pretty or talented or sexy. Because the pageant folk didn’t have a vote in the matter – she already knew that she was beautiful, gifted and “hot” by her audience of one.

When she dances at the pageant, she dances in complete freedom and confidence; because she sees herself through her grandpas eyes.

And that is how Olive approaches life differently.

If only I could fully get that lesson.

I have already won, because no matter what, I get to dance.

Just my thoughts,

Sean

Catherine's TV talkie debut

Okay everyone ... I have 3 lines on an upcoming episode of "Passions".

It's a crazy show - you've been warned.

But, if you want to see me speak my first 3 lines on national television, tune in and watch for the head caterer about 1/2 way through the episode.

Episode 1.1963
THURSDAY - March 29th
NBC
2:00pm
check your local listings

If you miss it, I think you can watch it online the next day at the "Passions" recap site.

Scrubs' Higher Purpose

(Be aware: SCRUBS contains material both sexual and occasionally vulgar, and their occasional treatment of G-dly things does not automatically mean the show is appropriate for all viewers.)

I consider it part of my duty with this blog to give insight into the inner workings of Hollywood. For instance, many of you may not know how television shows choose their themes from week to week.

In the case of SCRUBS, the writing staff looks at what I am studying in the Lenten season and base their show on that. In this case, “The Reversals of G-d; Seeing Hope through Tears.”

At least I assume that is how they chose their episode for last week, “My No Good Reason” (continuing to this week). Why else would it be so perfect?

(WARNING: Do not operate heavy machinery while reading this blog. Oh, and major SPOILERS of last week’s SCRUBS episode ahead – so if you Tivo’d the show, stop reading now.)

A major subplot last Thursday dealt with Dr. Cox challenging the overtly Christian faith of the Nurse Roberts.

SCRUBS has often dealt with Christianity and faith in broad comedic strokes, sarcasm, and even-handedness (as all topics are dealt with in broad comedic strokes and sarcasm). And faith has tended to hold its own.

This battle between Cox and Roberts also showed faith holding its own.

You see, Cox is down on life, especially as his pregnant wife needed an emergency procedure and is now bedridden – making Cox her slave, providing for her every whim.

And Roberts views all of life with an upbeat attitude, espousing the belief that even the bad things in life happens for a divine reason. Or, as she quotes, “God uses all things for good.”

So Cox tries to dissuade her, even pointing out the 8 year old girl that was stabbed during a robbery. How could G-d use that for good?

Roberts holds her own, and seems to get the upper hand when the doctors uncover a tumor in the girl – one that would have killed the child if she hadn’t been there for the stab wound.

When Cox has had enough, and blasts Roberts with all he has about logic, and Universal unfairness, and the fact that life sucks, the nurse responds in fury. She can only get through her days at the hospital with faith – watching the suffering, the dying, the pain; it is only her belief in a higher power and purpose that allows her to show up every morning.

And don’t you dare take that away from her!

Oh, and she argues with one last example: Dr. Cox’s wife needed the procedure and is now on forced bed rest, a seemingly no-win, unfair situation, true? But Roberts asks how is Cox’s relationship with his wife.

He is forced to admit it: his tumultuous, fiery, often painful relationship – has never been so tender and loving.

Cox is seen snuggling with his wife that night, a new man: he has a fresh angle on existence – everything just might have a purpose after all; he may even have found joy in life.
Until he walks into work the next day to discover that Nurse Roberts has been in a car accident and is now in a coma, one that she will probably never wake up from.

To be continued this coming Thursday.

Just my thoughts,

Sean

Miller, McKee and Me

My friend Jennifer is not only good for gritty soap recommendations, but also for finding bon mots online that she knows I will especially appreciate.

Such as this link to a Donald Miller essay on film and structure and Robert McKee. (You'll remember Miller from such hits as BLUE LIKE JAZZ.)

Favorite moment from the blog-- as Miller talks about the importance of story in the Bible:

"Right and wrong, then, are not often taught by lists (truth without meaningful context) but rather through the tools of story. The seminar made me wonder why religious institutions who aim to teach ancient texts don’t have story departments alongside their systematic pursuits. It seems that one might benefit from the other."

Hey, Miller, need a choir? I'm ready for you!

Just my thoughts,

Sean

For Crying Out Loud

Example #2

There is a scene in the movie where the wonderful Abigail Breslin is talking about being concerned about her mother. Abigail bawls her way through the scene; it is moving, this little girl’s concern for her mom.

But just kinda moving.

Donald Sutherland tells a great story about shooting ORDINARY PEOPLE.

There is a pivotal scene where Donald confronts his wife (played to icy perfection by Mary Tyler Moore). It is late at night; Mary has discovered that her hubby isn’t in bed, and has come downstairs to find him crying in the dining room.

Donald bawls his way through the scene, telling her that they are a family, and they have to make a choice – to struggle on as a family, or be doomed by remaining aloof individuals. Mary turns away from him, goes up the stairs, and packs her bags.

It is a powerful scene, and Donald – mustering all the tears he could – thought it moving.

But just kinda moving.

Months later he called his friend, the director Bobby (Robert Redford to you and me), and said he can’t sleep thinking about that scene and how they did it all wrong. Robert said he was thinking the same thing.

The got back together and re-shot the thing – this time with no tears.

The thinking was that Donald’s character had been crying all night, and had no tears left. That is why he needed his wife – he had nothing left on his own. The tearless cut is the one that made it into the movie.

And when Mary turns and goes up those stairs – devastating. Not a dry eye in the house.

Basic rule of acting/directing: if the character cries, the audience doesn’t need to. If the character can’t cry (or is struggling not to cry), the audience cries for them.

Think about it – a crying baby earns your pity. A baby that looks up at you with eyes welling up in tears, shaking in an attempt to hold them back – demolishing.

There are times when a character must cry, no way getting around it. But that is where the director really needs to step up and not let the audience get release from the character.

For example, in THE QUEEN; at that pivotal moment of breakdown, the director wisely moves the camera – we know she is crying, but he wasn’t about to let us intrude on it.

And that is how you get nominated for an Oscar.

Aristotle in his POETICS warned us against making the crying mistake millennia ago. He said it is the job of the storyteller to give the audience – NOT the character – a cathartic release.

Abigail was directed to bawl through her scene, giving the character, not the audience, a cathartic moment.

So we have an okay, competent scene.

But a lot of dry eyes in the house.

Just my thoughts,

Sean

PS I am referring, of course, to scenes where the crying is a way of conveying emotion, as opposed to showing vulnerability. So Glen Close curled up naked while crying in the shower in THE BIG CHILL is a whole other ball of wax.

Setup, Reinforce, Reverse

Nathan asked regarding my review of THE ULTIMATE GIFT: “What are the freshman mistakes you think the director made? I'd love to know what your take is.”

Okay, folks, we are entering the world of “things Sean is interested in because this is his field that you may be bored by.” Like listening to insurance salesmen chat about how rising rates adversely effect claims dispensations.

But here goes.

SPOILER ALERT: In answering how this good movie was spoiled, I may spoil a scene for y’all. I’ll try not to. Honest, I will.

Example #1

There is a comedic moment in the story that goes like this:

A Guy (we will call him Guy for purposes of this essay) goes to the hospital to visit his friend, Patient. The room is empty, except for a Nurse making the bed.

Guy: “Where is Patient?”
Nurse: “I’m sorry, Patient has gone to be with G-d.”

The camera focuses on Guy’s shocked look. Smash cut to:

Patient in the chapel, praying.

It’s a pretty funny idea, in my opinion. Nice play on words, with a visual payoff – perfect for film.

And the scene follows the appropriate three point joke structure – send us in a direction (the patient has died!); reinforce the direction (Guy registers that patient has died!); then give us the reversal (the patient hasn’t died, she’s just gone down the hall to be with G-d).

So what’s the problem? The scene I outlined above was not the scene in the movie. In the movie it went like this:

Guy: “Where is Patient?”
Nurse: “I’m sorry, Patient has gone to be with G-d.”

Smash cut to: Patient in the chapel, praying.

The director skipped part two: reinforcing the direction. The audience isn’t given enough time to register what the nurse said before seeing the Patient in the chapel. In other words, the director told the joke this way:

“Oh, the patient isn’t here, the patient is in the chapel, because she went to be with G-d.”

Joke telling 101 messed up; a freshman mistake.

More examples to follow.

Just my thoughts,

Sean

Truly Gritty

My bathroom soap has grit in it. And for this I blame Jennifer.

I was in one of those fancy Body, Bath and Backagain type stores with my wife. You know, the places that sell shampoos with ingredients like cucumber, pomegranates, beef jerky and the like.

Hint for guys out there shopping for their lady friends: cleansing items containing ingredients normally found in fruit salad are high quality. Even better – ingredients from dinner salads. And foods listed in the Bible? Pure personal hygiene product gold.

So I’m hanging around the store, not really paying attention. My typical method of shampoo shopping includes finding the lowest price at the local supermarket, and making sure it doesn’t have a name from my wife’s disapproval list, like “Gee, Your Hair Doesn’t Stink” shampoo or “Eh, It’s Not So Bad Considering The Price” conditioner.

We had been in there awhile, and my wife was looking to finish off a gift certificate, when my eye caught something familiar.

“Hey, look, soap like Jennifer uses!”

Both Cath and I had spent time at Hotel L’Jennifer, so my wife snatched up the soap, and it now sits on our bathroom sink.

And the soap has grit it. Cucumber, true, but also grit. When washing, one can feel the grit, the feeling of dirt scrapping the hands.

I suppose the grit is there to help make true the label promise of “deep cleansing.”

It puts me in mind of camping with my Dad. When it came time to clean our dishes, Dad had an odd strategy. Whereas my Mom would suggest soap and sponges, Dad had us take up a handful of river dirt, toss it in the pot, and scrub away.

Clean with dirt? Every kid’s dream.

And you know what? It worked. Quite well, in fact.

So looking for a deep clean?

Maybe it’s time to roll up your sleeves and get your hands dirty.

Just my thoughts,

Sean

Lockheed and Bread Runs

I met the guy a little over ten years ago, when I was courting Catherine.

He was the quintessential grumpy old man, his opinions stated as facts, his dislikes and prejudices along with his delights worn on his jumpsuit sleeve, his religion less an organized affair as an “understanding” between himself and G-d.

He would always greet Catherine as he had when she was knee-high: with a bear hug that would lift her off her feet, followed by a statement to the effect that she had gained weight since their last meeting. A cute ceremony when she was five; one that appealed only to Otto himself when she reached adulthood.

That is, until he fell too weak for the ritual; I think Cath instantly missed the much griped about way a life-long stoic had of saying, “I often think of you.”

He had a near century of stories, although I don’t think he knew it. His generation of people didn’t tell stories so much as relate facts. The year so-and-so got out of the army and moved to California; the route the trains took from Rapid City to Denver; the changes in Pasadena from the fifties to the sixties.

But in between the data, oh there were some grand stories.

As a boy, he sold pop outside the factory. One sweltering day, a customer wanted the last orange soda – the hot drink that had been on display in the sun. Shoving the searing glass bottle into ice caused an explosion – one that severed a tendon in his hand.

To his dying day, Otto couldn’t bend his middle finger, causing his hand to display a permanent and appropriate bird flip.

Deemed unfit for combat, the military asked him to serve as one on only two men at his Lockheed warehouse during the second war to end all wars. He was the cute one; the other guy, the geezer.

He rode the rails between Nebraska and California old-style, sitting on top of the cars, hopping off at slow curves. A picture straight out of SULLIVAN’S TRAVELS.

He filled retirement by volunteering at missions and soup kitchens. He put his forceful demeanor to work, bullying supermarkets into donating bread that Otto would then deliver to the ministries every morning.

As I said, stories.

I wasn’t able to collect anywhere near all of them; he required a bit of cajoling to convince him that his yarns were of more interest than the best route to travel to Modesto.

Catherine and I spent last Saturday at her folks’ place, memorializing her grandfather’s passing. We then drove down through gold country, as I learned of his cabin there, and the times the family would vacation together.

More stories.

Here’s to you, Otto. And don’t give Peter too hard of a time; I’m sure by now you’ve browbeat him into allowing you to do a bread run down to the less fortunate.

Just my thoughts,

Sean

Laughtear

This Lenten season, our church is focusing on the journey of suffering – how pain in life paradoxically brings many good things, including hope.

We storytellers get that. No good story is painless; every true tale of hope means the hero is going to have to pay a big price along the way.

The great theologian, Walt Disney, lamented about PETER PAN (as quoted from the commentary by the goodly monks at Entertainment Weekly) that he wasn’t able to get close to his protagonist because Walt never found Peter’s pain. (Sorry for the unintended pun.)

In Walt’s words, “With every laugh, there must be a tear somewhere.”

Here’s to a few tears, and the laughs they bring.

Just my thoughts,

Sean

Ultimate Opens

My friend, Cheryl McKay, wrote a movie that is opening this weekend -- THE ULTIMATE GIFT.

The movie stars James Garner and Abigail Breslin (of LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE fame), Brian Dennehy, and a bunch more. It also won the Crystal Heart at The Heartland Film Festival.

I haven't seen it yet, but I know that Cheryl is a wonderful writer. How good of a writer?

THE ULTIMATE GIFT is based on a best selling book. Cheryl was about the fifth writer hired to try and adapt the thing (typcial for Hollywood). Here's a secret for you non-writer types: a good adaptation requires change -- since it is being translated into a media with a completely different set of strengths.

Oh, and a good adaptation has to stay true to the heart of the original.

Cheryl was the first writer to come up with that winning combination -- different, yet true.

So, back to my question -- how good of a writer?

A novelist (Rene Gutteridge) has been hired to write a novelization of the movie. Yeah, Cheryl did her job so well, that there will now be two THE ULTIMATE GIFT novels -- the original, and the one based on Cheryl's work.

You can see the flick this weekend, AND support my favorite writing class: Act One Writing for Hollywood by buying your tickets online.

Go to: http://www.foxfilmfund.com/
Choose The Ultimate Gift and enter your zip code.
If you find a theater in your area, proceed to GET TICKETS NOW.
It will direct you to Fox Faith’s section of Fandago.
Upon check out, you can enter the Act One code: 500231

To view the trailer - go here.

And enjoy the show.

Just my thoughts,

Sean

Snow Fall

My brother Mark, resident of the snow thumped Upstate New York, recently sent an e-mail I thought worth mentioning.

His 82 year old neighbor got up on his barn, trying to get the snow off the roof to relieve the building of some weight.

Well, his neighbor fell off the roof.

Oh, don’t get this wrong, I’m not writing this as a prayer request. The neighbor wasn’t hurt in the least.

And this isn’t really a praise report either, as there wasn’t much miraculous in an 82 year old falling off a barn and suffering no injuries. Well, at least not this winter.

You see, he fell a total of two feet into the snow drift that had engulfed his barn.

Two feet up.

If you’re gonna fall off a barn, that is the way to do it.

Below is a picture taken on my brother’s property.

Now, don’t go all feeling sorry for my relatives (they’ve been competing, what with Mark’s drifts, Matt and Mike’s windy Colorado snow, Mary’s iced roads, and… well, I have ten siblings with rivaling winter stories).

You see, we’ve had it rough here in Southern California ourselves. As Cath pointed out, it is nearly impossible to shovel snow in eighty degree weather.

You try it some time.

Just my thoughts,

Sean

Prepare to be spontaneous

I have absorbed bits and pieces of wisdom about acting from many teachers, friends and peers. One of the most profound and lasting was "prepare to be spontaneous" which I learned from a truly great actor (Jeff Berryman). The concept is that, as an actor, we do all our homework (all the character analysis, script work, etc) but then we must be free enough to let go of it, trusting that the foundation is there, and follow the impulses that occur when we get it on its feet in rehearsal and performance.

I found another quote today that reinforces this thought - but from a musicians point of view.

From the Sunday LA Times, Takacs Quartet first violinist Edward Dusinberre is interviewed.

"Athough many in the audience know this music, we hope to convey a sense that it is being played for the first time, that we are just as surprised and transported by changes of harmony, character and tempo as were its first performers and listeners. Paradoxically, it is repeated rehearsal that gives us the freedom to surprise ourselves and the audience."

I love that. "It is repeated rehearsal that gives us the freedom to surprise ourselves. Cool!

Just Catherine's thoughts!

Heroic Faith

The notion of faith has been popping up a lot on television, and quite prominently on one of my geek guilt favorites, HEROES.

This past week, as the cheerleader sits tied up and in dire straights, her mom attempts comfort by saying that Dad will come save them. Based on what, the cheerleader wants to know.

Faith, says mom.

This, in face of the news that Dad may well be the cause of their danger, that Dad has been lying about his job, that Dad may be the one that gave Mom her brain aneurysm that will likely take her life.

With all of that, how can you have faith, the cheerleader rightfully wants to know.

Because of what I have seen in the past, is the simple answer given by this simple woman.

Faith is based on things seen.

Interesting insight, especially as it comes from someone that calls her dog Mr. Muggles. (Even worse, from someone that calls that ball of barking fur a dog at all.)

No wonder that when G-d would ask his people in the Old Testament to have faith, he most often started with the word, “Remember.”

Earl Palmer says that the call of the artist is contained more in that word from G-d than anything else. We are called to remember, and to help our audience, our people, remember.

We are called to faith.

Oh, and not to give out spoilers or anything, but Dad shows up.

Just my thoughts,

Sean