Sunday nights with the tube

Until last summer, Sunday evening had been reserved for HBO series for a good number of years. First Sex and the City captivated me. Then The Sopranos reeled us in. Deadwood made us laugh and cringe. Entourage charmed us as did Extras and Big Love. But because we were never able to immerse ourselves of The Wire (in spite of EW's insistence on its greatness), we vainly surfed the channels but came up empty. This Sunday though marks the beginning of TV bliss. First, we'll enjoy the politcal intrigue of ancient Rome and then we'll hurtle forward (or maybe backward. I guess I can't tell yet) to watch Gaius, the Cylons and others screw with the Capricans.

Last Sunday, we saw the first episode of Rome and were blown away by its expert plotting, truly despicable characters and shocking scenes. Because its high production values have made a third season cost prohibitive, it will be the last time we can enjoy the wheelings and deelings of the elite which is too bad. I would have loved to have seen it paired with the Sopranos, especially now that one of the plotlines will involve the tormented head of the undeworld in Rome.

Children of Men

I saw Children of Men yesterday. In advertisements, I've seen it described as a contemporary Bladerunner and I have to agree with the assessment. It's thought provoking with just the right amount of light to keep it from becoming to dark. We are shocked at how bleak the not-so-distant future in which women have mysteriously become infertile. The xenophobia in the UK is presented as a way of survival, yet it's not clear why people would want to live. That is until Clive Owen, a cynical drunk who's lost his son years earlier, finds himself the guardian of the first pregnant woman that the world has seen for almost twenty years.

Balancing the light and the dark is no small feat and it would be fun to watch the movie again to better understand how it was structured. There's the humour of Michael Caine's character as well as the dark wit of Clive Owens to sustain us until the baby is born. Then the audience like the soliders, refugees and terrorists finds themselves in awe of what is truly the miracle of life. In fact, I'd say this is the most pro-life of movies I can remember seeing.

There is more to be said about the movie, but I'm also intrigued by the movie's premise: What if there were no more children? What would happen to society if we thought that the human race had come to its end. Would we be able to create an "Art Ark" if we knew that in 100 years, there would be no one to appreciate it? Would we care how we treated the environment? Would we care about how we treated each other? Would we want to live?

Imagination and Place

The other night I watched a movie that based on the murder of 5 people by two women in Lexington, Kentucky (100 Proof.) If you read the accounts of the murder in the paper, you'll see that money is given as the motive. As a fictionalized account, the movie can offer other reasons and one in particular struck me the most. I think the women suffered from a lack of imagination. Clearly, the women wanted to somehow escape from their violent, banal and bleak existence where both women and men are sexual predators. Although the less aggressive of the two talks about owning a country store out in the country, it's clear that they can't imagine another way to live. Rather than use their minds to pull themselves out of the violence which surrounds them, they use drugs and alcohol to find oblivion.

The day after viewing the movie I was able to enjoy an afternoon in our local art museum. While looking at the scuplture of a Buddha in the museum framed by the Minneapolis cityscape, I wondered what those two women would have thought if transported to the same place as I stood. And then I wondered while looking at the Buddha if it really mattered where they were. If they learned the power of meditation, could they transform their place into something as inspirational as the art museum?