Prodigal Kiwi(s) Blog

“You must Love in Order to be Happy!”: The Tree of Life

I recently had the delight of watching Terrence Malick’s The Tree of Life for the first time. Given it’s theatrical release was some time ago, I’d had plenty of feedback on the movie from friends and such like, so I must say I went into it with mixed feelings. I was however pleasantly surprised – yes, you could say it was self-indulgent, pretentious, lacking as an attempt at story-telling, and I must say I was frustrated by not being able to hear a number if the voice-over reflections. But, negatives aside, you could also say a lot more about The Tree of Life. At one level it’s a film about spiritual-searching; a reckoning with the nature of God, and the perennial relationship between God and suffering. 

The story is set in 1950’s Waco, Texas, one of the cities in which Malick himself lived in his earlier life. Indeed there is a strongly autobiographical dimension to this film if you know a little about Malick and family and upbringing. 

It was evocative at so many levels. As one friend reminded me, and this was my experience as I watched it, “its very meditative”, i.e. there’s something wonderfully rich to be gained from engaging this film contemplatively – a kind of film-divina – a kind of divine seeing; a way of engaging what was most alive in me; most in need of being held by me; of being opened by me – of being entered into. Malick’s fusion of visual image, sound, movement, symbol, narrative, and humanity deeply nourished the journey, particularly once I was able to sink beneath the surface of my life and sit with its deeper and altogether frail realities. In this sense my experience of The Tree of Life was a deeply sacramental one; an experience enriched by the wonderful film score. 

A number of commentators have described it as a “mytho-poetic” work. Others have rightly commented on the fact that Jack’s character(s) (played by Hunter McCracken & Sean Penn as the adult Jack) grows along classic Oedipal lines, i.e. a strong attachment to his mother, and conflict with his father which is eventually resolved, both as Jack makes peace with his Father (whom he’s more alike than he imagines) and with himself in midlife. The central narrative / visual-symbolic thread that tied it together was the altogether natural human instinct to create a polarity between grace and (human)nature / natur(al) law. Or perhaps between love and law – “you must love in order to be happy!” These dualisms are embodied in the characters of Mr and Mrs O’Brien. Yet, against the backdrop of creation these polarities need to be understood as two sides of the same reality. There is an intrinsic unity between grace and nature. 

Key themes: 

• Grief and death.
• Grace.
• Love.
• Healing and meaning-making, and the importance of nature in the healing process.
• Relational and family dynamics.
• Disappointment and the loss of dreams.
• Crisis & awakening. The personal invitations to face into reality, the invitations to change and to growth, especially directed at males (cf. Mr O’Brien – who by the way falls within very normal limits as a father, particularly one in the 1950’s, but equally likely he’d fit in respect of some of his behaviours in the 21^st century as well. For me the film highlighted very natural and acceptable differences between males and females and the ways in which they embody and enact their various roles. As one commentator has written, and I read myself into his words, the portrayal of Mr O’Brien is “less the stuff of Dickensian nightmare than a portrait of a well-intentioned but all-too-human man who falls short of his own standards in any number of departments” (PDF of the review here). Mr O’Brien’s is a journey into a deepening sense of his humanity, both its brokenness and its profundity. His is no less a journey than any of ours, and he appears no less open to that than anyone else; perhaps his experience of crisis and grief predisposes him more than others? As a male I both cringed at and delighted in his character, played so well by Brad Pitt, and ultimately I found him a misunderstood (by Jack in particular) but ultimately hopeful character). His, like all of our humanity was a broken and wounded one, but they were realities he appeared willing to face into redemptively and transformatively. 
• The role Mystery in human living and relating.
• The importance of Beauty in human living.
• The importance of Nature and Creation / reverence and awe. 

The Descendent: The Unconscious Death of a Marriage, Infidelity & Betrayal.

I recently got the opportunity to watch 2011 American comedy / drama The Descendents which is directed by Alexander Payne (Sideways, About Schmidt) and is based on the novel by Kaui Hart Hemmings. In January 2012, The Descendants won two Golden Globe Awards and earned five nominations at the forthcoming 84th Academy Awards including Best Picture, Best Director and Best Actor for Clooney. 

It is a very good film; one of those very human, very ordinary stories that Payne is very good at translating into film. In that sense it makes for a moving film, one that touches the heart and moves the emotions; albeit different people will bring different life experiences to it; people will identify with all or only one of the characters (husband, wife, children, relatives, friends, or the object of an affair, i.e. the “other person”). Some will find it very uncomfortable, difficult and/or painful to watch. Some with undoubtedly find it therapeutic. Some tears will be shed. Others will just go to see George Clooney. 

I recommend it, as I do those rare films that are able to touch and move us; that are somehow able to partner us in becoming more fully and deeply human. 

Key themes: 

• Marriage.
• The slow unconscious death of a marriage.
• Infidelity and betrayal.
• The downstream consequences, costs, and impacts – in every direction – of infidelity.
• Hope and life post-the end of a relationship.
• The possibilities of relational restoration when both partners are truly awake and can truly see.
• Relational and family dynamics.
• Crisis & awakening. The personal invitations to face into reality; the invitations to change and growth.
• Grief and loss (“loss” and “endings” can be ‘read’ on a number of levels, not just in the sense of “death” as the ultimate loss and ending) 

“…For all of us, there’s a distance between how we are seen and how we see ourselves. ‘T think [The Descendents] is a coming-of-age film, but the guys who’s coming of age is a 50-year-old guy,’ says Clooney… ‘He’s woken up to the fact that all of these betrayals that he feels – from his wife, to his children not really being great kids, to the fact that he’s the only adult in terms of his family – he’s as responsible as anyone else for being there. Then it comes down to forgiving yourself…” Empire Magazine, February 2012, p. 15. 

 

Alan Roxburgh - Moneyball: Adaptive Change at the Movies

Al Roxburgh’s latest newsletter (1-2^nd Feb 2012) offers some useful reflections on adaptive change in response to the invitation to mission and the “great ‘unravelling’ of church life.” 

He offers two questions that are well worth reflecting on: 

• How do we function in disruptive new spaces?
• What do pastors and denominational leaders do in this strange, disorienting new space into which the Spirit has brought us? 

He continues: 

“… I find myself continually searching for metaphors that capture the experience of congregations, denominational systems and leaders in being in a new land. The metaphor of unravelling is one people find helpful. It captures the sense of things coming apart at the seams and, no matter how hard we try to fix things with our existing skills and capacities the unravelling continues. The other helpful thing about this metaphor is that it doesn’t have hidden in it implicit solutions or hints about the where the Spirit is taking all this. It just seems to us that the work of God at this moment is to move us out into these unravelling spaces that disorient us but without providing, for now, solutions or directions. Language such as emergence too often carries an unintentional element of solution. 

One of our primary defaults as well trained North American church leaders [very true of NZ Church Leaders too!] is to quickly look for solutions. We really do want to know what the plan is or what the next steps are going to be so we can apply our expertise and fix this unravelling. But there are bigger issues at stake for churches just now. Solutions can quickly turn to technique, even among the best intentioned of leaders. Technique will generally take us away from the key questions we need to be asking as leaders in this new space. The question we have to start with isn’t what do we do? As important as that is; rather, the critical question is: What is God up to among us in creating this great unravelling? It’s the God questions that are key not the techniques and solutions. This is why metaphors of desert and exile are so critical in the Scriptures - they are not places of technique or solution but places for discerning what God is up to in strange, difficult places.  

Once leaders begin to see this question and get a sense it’s the right one to be asking, they struggle with how this is done when existing skill sets and habits keep defaulting to solutions and fixes…” 

You read the whole reflection here. The film starts in Hamilton (NZ) later this month (Feb 16th).

A Wounded Prophet, Arthur, and the Visionary-Prophetic.

When his family heard about this, they went to take charge of him [Jesus], for they said, “He is out of his mind.” Mark 20-22. 

Mike Riddell over on The Insatiable Moon blog recently featured a fascinating essay, The Wounded Prophet, by Sally Clay. When I read the title I must say I thought of Henri Nouwen, specifically the biography with the very similar title A Wounded Prophet: A Portrait of Henri JM. Nouwen by Michael Ford. Nouwen suffered from debilitating depression (see also the excellent Henri Nouwen: A Spirituality of Imperfection (pub. 2006) by Wil Hernandez). You might also think of Nouwen’s own title The Wounded Healer. Think too of John the Baptist! Picture him in a contemporary urban Western context! 

Anyway, Sally Clay’s essay is well worth a read, and if you’ve had the opportunity to see my favourite movie of 2010 The Insatiable Moon then Clay’s essay will likely bring to mind some of the central themes of that movie, especially as they coalesce around the themes in Clay’s essay. Indeed, reflect on Arthur’s role as a “wounded prophet” (that's Arthur up there on the left). 

Here’s some excerpts from Clay’s essay: 

…I found psychology presented as part of a spiritual process, a psychology of the heart (Freemantle, 1975; Govinda, 1969; Trungpa, 1972). Finally I could admit openly that my experiences were, and always had been, a spiritual journey -- not sick, shameful, or evil. I was already a worthwhile person, right from the start, and there was a way to work with my own mind to transform fearful mental states to peaceful ones… 

…If mental illness is a disease of the mind, what is the nature of the mind? If altered states have value, what is there to recover from? What is our model of wellness? Is it true, as some say, that spiritual realization is the highest aspiration of the human race? If it is, should not that be our model of wellness? How do we recover to that state of wellness? Is recovery for a mental patient something different from the wellness of any other person?

Why do people in mania consistently experience an urgent call to save the world, and call themselves messiah or savior? Is this merely grandiose, or do such people truly hear a call to help others?

We know that people called schizophrenic hear voices. But why do they listen to them? Why in this culture are some forms of mental illness so excruciatingly painful and so interminable? Is illness the reason, or is there a tragic misunderstanding of global proportions? Who is ill -- is it the visionary or is it the society itself? 

… Until recent times, altered states of the kind I have described were an integral -- and integrated -- part of human experience. Among the ways they were incorporated into society were the shamanistic/healing way, the contemplative/teaching way, and the prophetic/leadership way. It is only recently that altered states have been medicalized and stigmatized. It is only recently that powerful drugs have been used to suppress the altered states that once produced our prophets and our saints.

Not surprisingly, it is also recently that society has fallen into a spiritual crisis of unprecedented proportions. In case you had not noticed, we no longer have any shamans or prophets. There may be those who go by those names, but somehow the mental experience that shapes such people is missing. This lack is sorely felt. We are lost now, lost on a global scale. Our world has lost its meaning, and our religions have lost their authority.

Not surprisingly, millions of people today are seeking to reach an altered state in the only way that they know how -- through the use of mind -- altering drugs. We may try with all our might to get rid of the drugs, but as long as we are human, we will not get rid of the need for altered states…”

You can read Sally Clay’s full essay here. I highly recommend it as a meditation written around the core question: what does it mean to be human, to be truly human…?

Reel Formation: The Gift of Cinema

Canadian friend Len Hjalmarson sent me a great little 2010 reflection on cinema as spiritual formation – Cinema Divino by Ron Reed. It echoes many of my own thoughts on film and its importance – see here or here as examples. 

Here’s the opening two paragraphs:

“Sister Rose Pacatte writes for the National Catholic Reporter. In her recent article Seeds of the Gospel in Cinema she talks about cinema divina – a practice of watching film as a spiritual discipline, derived from lectio divina. She mentions Father Benedict Auer’s article “Video Divina: A Benedictine Approach to Spiritual Viewing,” in which he writes “Video divina requires a set disposition which says, ‘This evening, I wish to get closer to God, so I think I’m going to watch this film, which might give me better insights into myself or why my neighbor acts as she or he does.’” 

I’m quite in tune with this idea, though it has its risks. If you enter into a story “looking for the message,” or intending to distill some simple moral lesson, you’re really not engaging with the film on its own terms. Playwrights say “If you want to send a message, use Western Union,” and the desire to boil a story down to a handy tip for living or a high school English paper theme statement may deny us the rich experience of actually engaging with the piece as a narrative, a world to inhabit, a work of art (or at least craftsmanship). The story – indeed, the performances, the design, the film’s rhythms and music and cinematic aesthetic – are not just the pretty wrapping paper to be discarded to get to the good part, the message. They are themselves the good part, the thing itself, and whatever a film (or play, or novel) may mean is entirely embodied in those particularities. A good story doesn’t say just one thing: it layers meanings and perspectives and contradictions and ideas, choices and consequences, all the complexities of actual life intensified and shaped by the artists…” 

You can read Reed’s complete reflection here. Thanks for the link Len. 

For more resources through which to engage film, I’d recommend:

John Pungente SJ and Monty Williams SJ, Finding God in the Dark: Taking the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius to the Movies, Ottawa: Novalis, 2004. 

I see Monty Williams also has a revised and updated edition of “Finding God” and a new book out in March 12 on discernment. It looks like some of the material I heard him lecture on in Auckland a few years back. Mike Frost also has a useful book which he co-wrote with one of my everyday theology hero’s Robert Banks: Lessons from Reel Life: Movies, Meaning, and Myth-Making; see also: Cinema & Sentiment: Film’s Challenge to Theology by Clive Marsh (film watching, what films do to people, and cinema going as religious practice); Reframing Theology and Film: New Focus for an Emerging Discipline edited by Robert K. Johnston (a collection of technical theological essays – some real gems amongst them); and Reel Spirituality: Theology and Film in Dialogue by Robert K. Johnston.  

The Insatiable Moon Wins Two Acting Awards

What a treat it was to see two of The Insatiable Moon’s cast pick up awards at the recently held 2011 Aotearoa Film and Television Awards (held in Auckland 12/11/11) 

Best Lead Actor in a Feature Film

Rawiri Paratene, The Insatiable Moon

Best Supporting Actor in a Feature Film

Greg Johnson, The Insatiable Moo 

I had the tremendous privilege in seeing both actors work their magic and art out on set, and at the time thought Rawiri Paratene had gifted us with his best performance ever. I told him as much when we chatted briefly at the function that followed the international premiere. In particular I was deeply deeply moved as I watched the filming of the scene where there is a community meeting to discuss / debate the place of the peculiar and the marginalised in the community. Rawiri was stunning. My spine tingled and tears well up in my eyes. 

So, congratulations to The Insatiable Moon. If you haven’t seen it, please do. It won’t be for everyone, but it’s a very special movie – a movie with incredible heart and one that will move you, whether to tears, to anger, so sadness, to joy, and more besides. 

For more on this wonderful film it has featured on this blog a number of times. Here, for example.   

The Picture of Dorian Gray – Part One of Two

Today’s post seems a good way to follow on from the two posts (here and here) featuring Michael Casey, and the questions of spiritual formation. As you’ll recall, on the one hand there is the work of “self” – independent of God: independent of grace; and then there is the work of Grace and Spirit – the work of deep transformation and growth in holiness, wholeness, and in humanity. The ancient monastic’s recognized the inherent human tendency toward the first; the inherent tendency both toward self-absorption and toward being “self made”. It’ll be in two parts. 

I’ve been dipping into Angela Tilby’s very good The Seven Deadly Sins: Their Origin in the Spiritual Teaching of Evagrius the Hermit (SPCK 2009). Dave Tomlinson recommended it to me a few years back. A radio series on the seven deadly sins which featured this year on ABC’s The Spirit of Things further nourished an interest in the connections between ancient spiritual teaching about the human person, and more contemporary understandings that draw on psychology, psychotherapy, neurology, neuro-psychotherapy, religion-spirituality etc. 

For example, I recently watched, for the second time, the film adaptation of Oscar Wilde’s novel The Picture of Dorian Gray. With relative regularity my reading ‘diet’ includes texts on psychology and psychotherapy. Dorian Gray is a classic study of the narcissistic personality. The film and book, while fictional, offer a profound insight into the widening circles of damage wrought as a consequence of narcissism. Narcissism is a monstrosity; a profound deformity and reinterpretation of what it means to be wholly and deeply human. Wilde’s novel and the film adaptation can be read through the lense of the individual and/or it can be read or watched from a standing point within contemporary Western culture. It offers, as does a growing body of literature and research, a fascinating perspective on a substantial and profoundly damaging undercurrent within Western culture. Narcissism is inherently both individual and cultural. They feed off one another. 

In connection with Wilde’s novel, Alexander Lowen, M.D (d. 2008), who was a psychiatrist and leading practitioner of a therapeutic approach called Bioenergetic Analysis, had the following to say: 

“…His [Dorian Gray] secret was the picture, which aged and showed the ugliness of a life lived without feeling. But Dorian hid the picture and never looked at it.” And isn’t this so often what happens, the narcissist pictures themselves in a particular way, but never looks more deeply at the ‘picture; of their true self, of their deepest humanity? 

Lowen continues, “…In the absence of feeling, Dorian Gray spent his life seeking sensation. He seduced women… then abandoned them. He introduced the young men who admired him to vices and drugs, which ruined their lives… throughout all this, Dorian felt no remorse. He never looked at the picture; he never confronted the reality of his life…”

He continues: “…Initially Dorian Gray’s beauty was not skin deep; it was not a façade. At first he was as good inwardly as he was good looking outwardly. But Oscar Wilde believed that human nature is corruptible… 

…Though the story of Dorian Gray is fiction, the idea that a person can present a physical appearance that belies the inner state of his being is valid. I have been struck by how many narcissistic individuals look much younger than they are. They…do not show any lines of worry or trouble. These people do not allow life to touch them – specifically; they don’t allow the inner events of living to reach the surface of their minds or the surface of their bodies. This constitutes a denial of feeling. But human beings are not immune to life, and in these cases, the aging occurs internally…” 

Slavoj Žižek Living in The End Times

While it didn’t feel like it said anything in particular, I did enjoy reading the hard copy of an interview with Slavoj Zizek in the May / June 2011 issue of Huck magazine: a magazine focused around “surf, skate, snow, music, art, & activism. 

While the magazine says to visit the website for the full transcript, I can’t find it. Instead there was only the following excerpt from the full interview: 

Rock star philosopher and critical theorist Slavoj Žižek takes on hypocrisy, cheap Hollywood Marxism and the final crisis of capitalism. 

He’s run for president in his native Slovenia, has a soft spot for Jacques Lacan, and has been hailed as the ‘Elvis of cultural theory’. With grand gestures, penetrating ideas and an articulate, super cool Balkan voice, Slavoj Žižek has a larger-than-life presence.

In his new book, Living in the Endtimes [Pub. 2010], Žižek prophesises the final crisis of capitalism, criticises the hypocrisy of Western racial “tolerance” and points to a challenging future with no easy solutions. We spoke for almost an hour and a half about all manner of issues, from Wikileaks and ideology to the benefits of skateboarding and his dream of remaking Star Wars with Darth Vader as “an enlightenment ruler fighting reactionary feudals like the Jedis”.

What follows are some of the highlights.

What do you think about the student protests in London, what’s their meaning? It’s not just privatisation of higher education, what worries me [is this trend] that says, if you want to study this abstract, useless knowledge it should be your private stuff. What society needs is useful knowledge; experts to meet social needs. […] So that, for example, when you have a crisis, precisely like the demonstrations in London, you can call psychologists who tell you how people in demonstrations behave… you know, useful knowledge. We need a more radical thinking. We need thinking which problematises problems themselves. Thinking is not to say, ‘We have a problem, help us fix it.’ Thinking is to see how we perceive the problem. Often the way we perceive a problem already in a way mystifies the problem. One example: when you mix ecology with this new age bullshit – you know, ‘We’re raping mother earth, mother earth is taking revenge,’ blah, blah, blah – all that new age bullshit means catastrophe to ecology if we approach it in this new age way.

And here I like movies. […] I simply use movies as the most subtle registration of where we stand ideologically. Take this year’s Oscars: the two big winners, The King’s Speech and Black Swan. It’s very interesting how they fit sexual difference and the problem of subjectivity today. What’s the problem of The King’s Speech? The king here is a subject who stutters, it’s clear why – because he finds it hard to identify with his symbolic title. Like, ‘My God, am I really a king? Can I be a king?’ Which is I think quite a healthy attitude, you know? It’s a sad story for me. The king is much wiser in the beginning; his stuttering means he knows that to be a king you need to believe in our kingness, which is madness, you know? So he’s rendered slowly stupid enough to believe that he can be a king. The other one is even worse. A really simplistic analysis, of course, but Black Swan, I think, is a deeply reactionary film. The underlying premise is that a man, played by Vincent Cassell, the director of the ballet, can combine the ruthless total dedication to his profession with normal private life, but a woman has to choose. If you identify too much with your mission of being a perfect artist, you are punished with death. This is a radically anti-feminist idea; that a woman and her radical dedication to her art can’t go together. It’s a beautiful film; nicely shot, blah, blah – but maybe they could have got slightly better music than that Tchaikovsky bullshit. I’m here this conservative European high modernist. Tchaikovsky is out for me, no? It’s popular music.

On the topic of music, Slavoj, what do you like? I love classical music; I’m a mega Wagnerian – Wagner, Schonberg, Mozart, Schubert, Schumann. I listen for hours every day. I work to loud music. […] Of the latest music, I like bands like the German one, Rammstein. I disagree with those who think they are some kind of proto-fascist band. They do this wonderful thing – deconstructing from within; the charm of fascism, overidentifying with it and making it ridiculous. […]

But listen, I am generally a kind of retarded guy. For example, when Harry Potter exploded, with my best intentions I tried to read the novels. Sorry, I found them boring, I couldn’t.

What do you make of skateboarding and surfing, which are perhaps closer to a purely aesthetic expression than to your traditional mainstream sport. Do they mean anything to you? Skateboarding, I think this is a great thing. […] I remember those kung fu films – did you notice the heroes were always working class? Rich people can have guards and arms, so they can afford to be lazy and consume; poor people have only their bodies and self-discipline. This is what I am for. I agree with my German friend Peter Sloterdijk: he came up with the idea that this is one of the hopes, these perfectionist disciplines, [like] a skateboarding guy who makes a mission out of [his] self-discipline. This is absolutely a positive thing..."

Of God’s and Men – Finally!

Recently I finally got to see the award-winning film Of Gods and Men on the big screen. It’s in my top 5 movies of the decade (2000 to 2010). Based on the true story of a small group of Cistercian monks who inhabit the Notre-Dame de l’Atlas monastery in the Atlas mountains near Tibhirine south west of Algiers in northern Algeria it examines links between French and Islamic culture; and too some degree, between Christianity and Islam. I’m halfway through the book-length account of the story behind the film. It’s titled: The Monks of Tibhirine: Faith, Love, and Terror in Algeria by American journalist John W. Kiser. The now-abandoned monastery is located near Medea, 70 km south of Algiers. “…The monks had worked among the people in the poor district. They had provided free medical care, a service that is deeply missed by the locals…” according to the Catholic News Agency. 

Sitting in a dark theatre was a truly special experience, from the script to the cinematography, to the acting, to the soundtrack – everything worked. I loved it and was profoundly moved through a range of feelings and emotions. It’s a movie that can be ‘read’ on so many levels. It’s a profoundly human story, while also a story of friendship, community and of interdependence – in this case between the monastery and the village of Tibhirine. It’s also a story of “interiors and interiority” wrapped in a message of peace. Surely a message that is desperately needed today. Br. Jean-Pierre (age 87), one of the two survivors has said of the film that it is “an icon”. 

In many ways this is a classical and profoundly modest film, and perhaps that’s an important reason why the film really touches and moves you. There’s something about its portrayal of a full range of human emotion in the face of which, for many of us, the unrest and tension would be a sufficient reason to sever connection with relationships and place. They beautifully transition through anxiety, fear, and deep inner anguish to a place of deep rootedness, trust, and commitment. They resist every urge in their bodies which whispers to them that they should leave; or that independence is more important and transformative than interdependence, relationship, love of God and neighbour, belonging, and community. Truly important and subversive messages at a time in our Western culture(s) where everything is disposable and every person and relationship can be thrown away when the circumstances of life, inside and outside of us demand that we stretch, change, and grow. The monks of Tibhirine face into their fear and in the process create something truly beautiful, truly human against a backdrop of dehumanisation. Its a profound reminder that love is not a feeling; its an action; its actions.  

So much resonated with my own experiences of regularly being in a monastery within the Trappist / Cistercian tradition.

From the Film: 

Reading at Meal (34:22) 

“Accepting our powerlessness and our extreme poverty is an invitation, an urgent appeal to create with others relationships not based on power. Recognizing my weaknesses, I accept those of others. I can bear them; make them mine in imitation of Christ. 

Such an attitude transforms us for our mission. Weakness in itself is not a virtue, but the expression of a fundamental reality, which must constantly be refashioned by faith, hope and love. The apostles’ weakness is like Christ’s, rooted in the mystery of Easter and the strength of the spirit. It is neither passivity nor resignation. It requires great courage and incites one to defend justice and truth and to denounce the temptation of force and power…” 

This excerpt from the films script (above) is courtesy of a really helpful study guide for the film produced by Christopher Page (he’s written a few really helpful study guides for church or Christian communities with which to accompany films). You can find a PDF of the study guide here.

A written interview with the films director can be found here.  Some of you may also be interested in this essay: “When an A-Dieu Takes on a Face”: The Last Testament of Christian de Chergé, O.C.S.O (PDF) by Karl A. Plank.

 

 

A Philosophical Investigation into the Art of Terence Malick

I’ve still to see it reach our shores, but the excited reviews of The Tree of Life by friends who have seen it reached me many weeks ago. It was a delight therefore to hear The Philosophers Zone featuring an investigation into Malick’s work. 

Here’s the show’s blurb: 

“Terrence Malick is, perhaps, unique: a film director who is well-trained in philosophy and who has published an English translation of a book by the great German philosopher Martin Heidegger. But should we see his movies as philosophical statements? In particular, what are we to make of his latest, The Tree of Life, which is set in Texas in the fifties but also takes us back to the creation of the world and the age of the dinosaurs? Metaphysics or pretension? This week, a philosophical investigation of Malick's work.”

You’ll find the broadcast and podcast here.