Related posts:

1. Lego Mindstorms Rubik’s cube solver – via @timoreilly

Fascinating infographic of BBC spending. It puts the £2million spent on Clarkson and £6million spent on Ross into perspective – 50% more spent on Ross than on the Proms!

via guardian.co.uk

Posted via web from Tony Watkins

No related posts.

Related posts:

1. Pollard on Film: Creation and changing your mind

Dir. Peter Jackson (Paramount Pictures, 2010)
This article was first published on Culturewatch, © Tony Watkins.

Warning: this article contains plot spoilers

When Susie was small, she was worried for the penguin trapped inside a snow globe. ‘Don’t worry, kiddo,’ her father Jack (Mark Wahlberg) reassured her. ‘He has a nice life; he’s trapped in a perfect world.’ Several years later, Jack could do with someone offering the same reassurance to him about his daughter (Saoirse Ronan) when she is abducted, raped and murdered. This tension between perfect and imperfect worlds runs right through Peter Jackson’s The Lovely Bones, based on the best-selling novel by Alice Sebold.

The Salmon family seems to be perfect. A loving couple with two delightful daughters, living in a nice suburb; what more could they want? Jack even constructs perfect worlds through his hobby of making ships in bottles, which Susie delights to help him with. The biggest tension in the family is whether or not Susie will wear her new knitted hat to school. But the evil desires of one man wreck everything, devastating Susie’s family. Ironically, Susie’s murderer also constructs perfect worlds: he makes dolls houses with obsessive attention to detail. But he also brings the same compulsion to building places where he can lure his victims to their destruction.

Jack instinctively wants to restore the situation somehow. ‘I’m going to take care of this. I’ll make this right,’ he tells Susie’s mother, Abigail (Rachel Weisz). ‘You can’t make this right,’ she replies. Jack becomes increasingly consumed with trying to work out who is responsible, since the police fail to identify the culprit, while Abigail begins to feel that she needs to put it all behind her and move on. Jack knows he cannot bring the near-perfect life they had enjoyed back again, but he longs for justice to at least put things into the right balance. Later, when he thinks he knows the identity of his daughter’s murderer, he sets out with a baseball bat, intent on revenge. Even this proves impossible, though, and he becomes a victim of violence himself.

Although none of them realise it, Susie is trapped in what seems to be a perfect world. She says, ‘I was alive, alive in my own perfect world.’ She is not in heaven, as she first assumes, but in limbo, an in-between state. She is still connected to the world by her memory of it and her reluctance to let go of her father’s love. This in-between state is an extraordinary environment, where Peter Jackson uses impressive special effects to create her surreal, dream-like existence. But Susie finally admits that, ‘in my heart, I knew it wasn’t perfect. My murderer still haunted me.’ Susie meets another of her murderer’s victims, Holly (Nikki SooHoo), who tells her, ‘This isn’t heaven. You’re not there yet. . . . You need to let go of earth. You’re dead, Susie. You have to leave.’

Susie is held back by her memories. Some are lovely memories, such as the snow globe and being given a camera. ‘I love the way it captured a moment before it was gone,’ she recalls. This is what memory does, too. The film suggests that Susie and her parents are both trapped by their memories of the awful event, and that people can only begin to really live again when they begin to forget, or at least to hold less tightly to those memories. Susie reflects at one point, ‘My murderer began to feel safe. He knew that people wanted to forget, that they needed to move on. But there was one thing my murderer didn’t understand. He didn’t understand how much a father could love his child.’

The Lovely Bones is, of course, a deeply disturbing film because it confronts us with the desperately imperfect nature of the world we live in. It is not only a world in which terrible things can happen, but one in which justice is not always achieved. Even justice’s defective relative revenge is not always possible. It’s a world in which a young girl’s potential for joy and love and creativity can be snuffed out in a moment, yet an evil man’s desires can go unchecked. It is a desperately broken world – a perspective which is entirely consistent with that of the Bible.

The biblical account of humanity is that we enjoyed an idyllic existence at first, in perfect harmony with each other, with our environment and, most importantly, with God in whose image we were created. But we rebelled against God, exerting our free will to become autonomous from God, and seizing for ourselves the role of deciding what is right or wrong, good or evil. That rebellion twisted and corrupted the image of God within us, so that as well as being capable of great good, every one of us is now also capable of great evil. And the same urge to be utterly autonomous from God lives on in each one of us. It’s what the Bible calls sin: a fundamental bias against God and in favour of giving in to our own self-gratifying urges. The freedom to choose that we have misused so dreadfully is what has broken our world. Why didn’t God intervene to stop it? Why doesn’t he intervene now to stop evil acts? Simply because he cannot give us free will and withhold it at the same time. It is a logical impossibility and, as C.S. Lewis famously said, nonsense is nonsense even when you talk it about God. Why is our free will so important? Without it, relationships with each other and, more fundamentally, with God, would not be based on genuine love, but would be merely programmed into us. It may seem a costly price to pay, but genuine love is surely the ultimate good which we would not want to be without.

However, the Bible’s account of our world’s brokenness does not end with an explanation for why it is like this. Instead it goes on to tell the story of God’s plan to deal with our sin and rebellion. That could simply be a story of justice. Watching The Lovely Bones, we, like Jack, long for Susie’s murderer to face justice. But we forget that God can legitimately want the same for each of us. He would be perfectly just in judging us for our rebellion, our self-gratification, our abuse of others, our deception and violence (in thought if not deed), our exploitation and greed. Yet the Bible is clear that God wants us back in relationship with him. The Bible is the unfolding story of the need for justice and love, of God’s desire to eliminate sin and to show grace to sinful people. These two strands come together in the incarnation, death and resurrection of his son, Jesus Christ. This is the point in history at which God steps into our world and becomes a man. He is not remote in heaven, merely grieving over our brokenness and weeping for our pain. Instead, he came to live in our broken world, as one of us yet perfect. He came to die for us, taking on himself the judgment we deserve – an act of the most extraordinary grace. It is worth remembering that God himself has been the victim of the worst of human evil and violence, and he understands fully the pain it causes. The cross of Christ means that God’s justice is satisfied, the price has been paid for us, and – if we accept it – we can be forgiven and come into a relationship with God himself. It means that God’s kingdom breaks into our broken, imperfect world.

The limbo in which Susie finds herself is not a biblical idea, and there is no sense in The Lovely Bones of God having anything to do with it (Peter Jackson insisted on not portraying a particular religious perspective on heaven). Heaven is a place of perfection that Susie can move on to, but there is no hint that God makes is possible for her to do so. And while the film’s picture of the brokenness, senselessness and injustice of this life is accurate, there is no assurance whatsoever that God will one day establish perfect justice. But the Bible does insist that judgment is coming. We either accept Jesus bearing it on our behalf, or it falls on us. For those who do respond to Jesus’s offer, there is the promise, not of some surreal limbo world in which we are haunted by memories of this imperfect life, but of eternal life with God – an absolutely perfect world.

Related posts:

1. An Education
2. Sunshine Cleaning
3. Coraline

Related posts:

1. Good films to discuss

Every year, the film critics at Christianity Today compile a list of the ten films that they consider to be the most redeeming of the year. What do they mean by that?

We mean movies that include stories of redemption—sometimes blatantly, sometimes less so. Several of our films have characters who are redeemers themselves; all of them have characters who experience redemption to some degree—some quite clearly, some more subtly. Some are “feel-good” movies that leave a smile on your face; some are a bit more uncomfortable to watch. But the redemptive element is there in all of these films.

I don’t know all the reviewers, but I have engaged with several of them at Arts & Faith and think they’re great. I just wish I could spend more time there like I used to. Anyway, I think it’s quite a good list. There are a couple of films I would have left out in favour of films from their ‘One that got away’ list – the one film that each of the critics wish had made the final, collective list.

From CT’s ‘Ones That Got Away’ list, I would possibly have included in my top ten:

However, I haven’t yet seen most of the films in the “Ones That Got Away” list, so I might later want to include some of the others. I confess that I’m surprised by one omission:

Related posts:

1. Good films to discuss
2. Greg Jesson on showing the Good in films

This article was first published on Culturewatch.org. © Tony Watkins, 2010

The 1995 Rugby World Cup final was an unexpectedly significant world event. It had a resonance far beyond the excitement of rugby fans because of its particular historical context. Rarely, if ever, has a sporting event been such a powerful cohesive force within a society. Invictus, based on John Carlin’s book Playing the Enemy, tells the inspiring story of how it played such a crucial part in the first year of South Africa’s new era under the presidency of Nelson Mandela.

Mandela (brilliantly played, in an Oscar-nominated performance, by Morgan Freeman) was elected as the President of South Africa in 1994. He had been released from prison in 1990, become president of the ANC and had already committed both himself and his party to the path of reconciliation. Black South Africans were overjoyed at the ANC sweeping to power in the elections, but many Afrikaners were fearful of what would happen. Mandela was insistent that it was not a time for revenge or even petty point scoring. He formed a ‘government of national unity’, with all ethnic groups represented, and set up the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. Invictus shows something of his attempts at building the ‘rainbow nation’, beginning in his own offices as he urges white civil servants to stay and work for their country. His fiercely loyal black security men are dismayed to discover that they will be working with white Special Branch officers who served the previous president. ‘The rainbow nation starts here,’ Mandela insists. ‘Reconciliation starts here. Forgiveness starts here, too. It liberates the soul. That is why it is such a powerful weapon.’ However, he knew full well that much more was necessary to unite the bitterly divided nation.

At the time of Mandela’s inauguration, nobody could have possibly imagined that rugby could help bring this about. Almost everyone saw it as a white man’s game. Afrikaners supported the Springboks, the national team, enthusiastically, and as a result the team, and the sport generally, was hated within the townships. The opening scene of Invictus shows the sharp divide. At a school for white South Africans, boys are playing rugby on a beautifully maintained pitch when they see a car with a police escort going down the road: Mandela on his way from prison in 1990. The rugby coach tells the boys, ‘It’s that terrorist Nelson Mandela. Remember this day, boys. This is the day the country went to the dogs.’ On the other side of the road, a group of poor black boys have been playing football on a dusty patch of barren land. They, of course, are overjoyed to see their hero released.

Four years later and Mandela becomes president. Following the lifting of sporting sanctions against South Africa, the World Cup is due to be staged in a year’s time, but it promises to be an embarrassment to Afrikaners as well as an irrelevance to black South Africans. The Springboks are in a mess, suffering humiliating defeats, and Francois Pienaar (Matt Damon), the captain, comes in for stinging criticism from the media. President Mandela, however, sees a golden opportunity to build bridges by actively supporting the national team.

When the ANC-run National Sports Council votes to change the name of the team to the Proteas (the national flower of South Africa) and get rid of the green and gold strip, he intervenes personally to persuade them to reverse their decision. He drives straight to their meeting and addresses them, explaining that he spent 27 years in prison studying Afrikaner prison guards. ‘They love the Boks,’ he says. ‘If we take that away we will be what they expect us to be. We must surprise them with generosity.’ It was a dangerous move, as it appeared to be a betrayal of his race. John Carlin explains:

What you have to understand is that the green shirt of the Springboks was a powerful reminder to black South Africans of apartheid. They hated that shirt because it symbolised, as much as anything else did, the tremendous indignities to which they were subjected. Mandela’s genius was to recognise that this symbol of division and hatred could be transformed into a powerful instrument of national unity.[1]

It is a mark of Mandela’s genius, but it is also a mark of his deep understanding of the vital importance of reconciliation, and its power to transform lives. His attitudes and actions are a powerful reflection of God’s grace – undeserved kindness – towards those who reject him and rebel against him. In his autobiography, Long Road to Freedom, Mandela identifies himself as a Christian,[2] and says that this explains his convictions and actions in later life. His insistence on forgiveness and generosity of spirit, though not at the expense of truth, is thoroughly, authentically Christian, and his towering example is both an inspiration and a challenge to people around the world.

The National Sports Council agrees to the President’s request, somewhat reluctantly, but there is much more to do. Director Clint Eastwood remarks:

This story takes place at a critical point in Mandela’s presidency. I think he demonstrated great wisdom in incorporating sport to reconcile his country. He knows he needs to pull everybody together, to find a way to appeal to their national pride – one thing, perhaps the only thing, they have in common at that time. He knows the white population and the black population will ultimately have to work together as a team or the country will not succeed, so he shows a lot of creativity using a sports team as a means to an end.

His next move is to invite Francois Pienaar for tea. He quickly wins the rugby captain’s respect and galvanises him to inspire his team to achieve greater things. Mandela asks Peinaar, ‘How do we inspire ourselves to greatness when nothing less will do? How do we inspire everyone around us?’ He mentions that, while he was in prison, he was inspired by a poem, though he doesn’t tell Pienaar what it was. Soon afterwards, the Springboks players are dismayed to hear that they are to do rugby coaching in the townships as part of the PR for the World Cup. Pienaar refuses to challenge the order, however. ‘We’ve become more than a rugby team and we’d better get used to it,’ he insists. It is a hugely successful move, with children in the townships responding enthusiastically and the players becoming inspired by the reactions. Matt Damon comments:

Mandela basically asks him to exceed his country’s expectations and his own expectations and win the World Cup. It’s an enormous request, but Francois knows that it’s actually bigger than any rugby match. And along the way, the entire team realise they have become an important instrument in bringing their country together.

By the time the Rugby World Cup starts, President Mandela has positioned himself as the Springboks’ number one fan, and the slogan ‘One team, one country’ seems to be  becoming a reality. Screenwriter Anthony Peckham says:

Mandela realised he had a perfect opportunity to address the part of the electorate that had not voted for him . . . that, in truth, feared him. White South Africans followed the Springboks religiously, so to use the forum of the World Cup was brilliant. But it wasn’t just a game; it was the fact that Mandela embraced a team that black South Africans hated and almost by force of will dragged all of the people into following them.

The Boks’ extraordinary, and completely unexpected, performance in the tournament is in itself an inspiring story of an underdog triumphing against the odds. But because of Mandela’s investment of energy into the team and how it is perceived in South Africa as a whole, the final becomes a defining moment for the nation. Unfortunately, this is the point at which the film loses its way somewhat, particularly for anyone who knows what happened in the final when the Springboks faced the apparently invincible New Zealand All Blacks. Eastwood is evidently attempting to create the feeling of the game and to enable viewers to feel something of the tension of a thrilling match which went into extra time. But it dominates the last third of the film, and the match is stretched out far beyond what is necessary. It doesn’t help that much of it is filmed in emotionally overwrought slow motion and with frequent cutaways to scenes of black and white South Africans uniting in their support for the team. It’s a great shame that such an inspiring true story should be weakened at the end by sentimentality and a rose-tinted vision of a divided nation made whole by sporting heroism and the shrewd political manoeuvrings of a enormously gracious man. Yes, it was a watershed moment for the rainbow nation, but it wasn’t the end of the story. The Government of National Unity collapsed just weeks later, and it seemed that South Africa was about to plunge into chaos. The country has made real progress, but Mandela and his successors have struggled and failed to eradicate the violence that stills tears out its heart.

Nevertheless, the story which Invictus tells is an important and a moving one with valuable lessons for all of us from the conduct of these two men. Francois Pienaar is a great example of commitment and dedication to being the best it is possible to be. Nelson Mandela is not a saint and is far from perfect, as he is ready to admit, but he has arguably been the most significant example of reconciliation, forgiveness and grace in the modern world. Morgan Freeman doesn’t just capture Mandela’s voice and posture, he conveys the warmth and generosity of a man who accepts and values everybody, regardless of their status, wealth or the colour of their skin. But what is most inspiring about Mandela is his willingness to be generous even to those who were once his enemies. He lives out the instructions of the apostle Paul in his letter to the church in Rome: ‘Bless those who persecute you. Don’t curse them; pray that God will bless them,’ (Romans 12:14). What makes that possible is not force of will, or a pragmatic evaluation of what results it might bring, but a recognition that every human being is a sinner before God, deserving only judgement but being offered forgiveness through Jesus Christ. Mandela’s claim to be a Christian is a claim to have experienced this grace, and a commitment to the same grace working through him. It is ironic, therefore, that the poem which inspired Mandela, which he passes on to Pienaar, and which gives the film its title, celebrates being ‘captain of my soul’, because Mandela’s Christian profession means that the captain of his soul is really Jesus Christ.

[1] This and other unattributed quotations come from the film production notes, or from the film itself.

[2] Long Walk to Freedom: The Autobiography of Nelson Mandela, London, Abacus, 1995, p.620.

Related posts:

1. 50 Dead Men Walking

Related posts:

1. Are Right and Wrong Just Feelings?

Related posts:

1. Rising superstition in Britain

No related posts.