Heights

—Overview
—Photos
—About this Film
—Spiritual Connections

There is a sense in which watching film is an exercise in voyeurism. We are looking at a world that we are not a part of. Good film can draw us into that world and make us feel a part of it, or at least help us to understand our connection to that world. There is nothing wrong with this kind of voyeurism in film. Indeed, it is one of the three V’s that make up film. (Jon Boorstin refers to the “voyeur’s eye,� the “vicarious eye,� and the “visceral eye.�)

Heights is a film built around voyeurism. The opening scene is watching a class rehearse a scene from Macbeth. So we are in the position of watching a class watch a play. We are being voyeurs in the second degree. Diana is a renowned actor getting ready to play Lady Macbeth on Broadway. We see her rehearse. We see her audition an actor for an Off-Broadway play she will direct. Always, she is busy being something other than who she really is – even at her own birthday party.

Her daughter Isabel is a photographer – a voyeuristic profession. Again, we watch her taking pictures and we become second degree voyeurs yet again. She keeps trying to find something interesting to photograph, but has no sense of interest in her own life.

There is even a scene in the film in which Alec, an aspiring actor, is working as a waiter at a sexual voyeur party. We see him seeing others watching others. We are voyeurs of the third degree.

As voyeurs, we see the secrets that the characters hide from everyone else. We want to see their passion, but instead we only see the ways they lock that passion away. Diana knows how to bring passion to the stage, but has no way of showing her anger over her husband’s affair or her fear for Isabel’s potentially disastrous marriage. Isabel has a chance to do important work, but meekly sets it aside because of her upcoming wedding. Her fiancé Jonathan, when asked if what he has with Isabel is real, answers, “It’s close enough.�

We spend the film watching the lives of various people interact, but we are always at a distance, peeping in a window (actually more like watching someone peeping), so to speak, without really encountering who these people are. All we see is the misery and pain that fill their lives. But we are kept at such a distance that we aren’t really able to connect with their lives, perhaps because they have such trouble connecting with their own lives.

That distance between audience and film becomes a problem. Instead of being able to find some way to participate in the story, we end up being nothing more than bystanders watching the bleeding souls of these unhappy people. And they are unhappy. The best that can be said is that by the end of the story they know the unhappiness that has always been there.

There is a bit of hope offered for a few of the characters, but it is such a faint light, that the viewer knows that it will not burn long, and eventually what bit of happiness might have come is doomed because these people just don’t know how to be happy.

So for all our watching, we come away frustrated. The nature of voyeurism is that we want to see something that we want for ourselves. In this film we only see miserable people become more miserable as their facades fall away. The window we are looking into gives us a glimpse into a Sartrean Hell.

—Overview
—Photos
—About this Film
—Spiritual Connections

Howl's Moving Castle

—Overview
—Photos
—About this Film pdf
—Spiritual Connections

Waiting for the start of Howl’s Moving Castle, I watched trailers for upcoming computer-animated films. I don’t dislike these films; some are very good. As I watched the trailers, though, I was struck by how much I was looking forward to the rich hand-done animation that is a key part of a Hayao Miyazaki film. I wasn’t disappointed. Like his other films (Spirited Away, Kiki’s Delivery Service, Princess Mononoke and others), the artwork here is both imaginative and beautiful. Miyazaki consistently enchants the viewer, drawing us into his world.

Howl’s Moving Castle has many similarities to other Miyazaki films: a bewitched flying hero, a young girl who liberates him to find his true life, witches and wizards, a bit of animism. This film focuses on a teen aged girl named Sophie who has been cursed by the Witch of the Waste and is now a ninety year old woman. Sophie sets off to find release for the curse and along the way encounters a turnip-headed scarecrow who helps her out and finds her way to the bizarre magical castle of the wizard Howl where she works as a cleaning lady for Howl and his young apprentice Markl.

The relationships she develops with various characters are the real heart of the story. As Sophie interacts, and begins to love and be loved, we see her features and voice changing back and forth between the young and old Sophie. The more she loves, the younger she looks. This love is not based in looks or even in actions – it grows out of the common humanity the characters share. Even when Sophie gets a chance for revenge against the Witch of the Waste, who has now lost her power, rather than hurting her, Sophie begins taking care of her.

There is also a war going on, and it is clear that Miyazaki wants to show us that war is an evil. Howl goes out each night, not to fight in the war, but to fight against the war. Each time he goes out, he becomes more and more disconnected with his human side. The danger is that he will eventually not even remember that he’s human (as is the case with other wizards who have let themselves be used in the war effort.) We really don’t know much about the reasons for the war, but that is really unimportant for the purposes of this film. It is war itself that is the target and enemy, regardless of the reasons behind a war.

One of Miyazaki’s gifts is that he can make points such as the evil of war (or about pollution or community in other films) without being preachy. A comment here, a visual there, and the seeds of thought are planted in the viewer where they have a chance to grow.

Miyazaki’s films can be enjoyed by children, who seem naturally attracted to animation, and appreciated by adults, who may often dismiss animation as childish. His films always have a spiritual aspect to them. They may not have a Christian world view, but they still allow us to consider life that is to be lived in harmony with spiritual reality. The lessons that Miyazaki shares can easily be adapted and understood by others who are seeking spiritual harmony in their lives.

Although I like this film a lot, it should be noted that it isn’t Miyazaki’s best work. (Spirited Away is still my favorite.) The plot is a bit confusing if you haven’t been paying close attention. There are things left unexplained. Even though Miyazaki doesn’t do his typical great job, it is still very good. Whenever we are invited in to Miyazaki’s beautiful world, we find great beauty and spiritual food.

—Overview
—Photos
—About this Film pdf
—Spiritual Connections

Brothers

—Overview
—Photos
—About this Film

Note: this review contains minor spoilers.

The Bible is full of stories about brothers: Cain and Abel, Isaac and Ishmael, Jacob and Esau, Joseph and his brothers, two parables by Jesus about brothers. Brothers (and I expect sisters as well) have strong bonds, but also significant rivalries.

As I reflect on my two brothers, I know we all have things in common, and we all have differences. We are competitive, even though we each have our own careers and interests. We are also connected to one another in ways that we are not bound to anyone else. We envy one another, but we also can’t stand things about each other. It is that combination of intimacy and separation that makes brothers so interesting when we have stories that focus on that relationship.

Brothers is the work of Susanne Bier and Anders Thomas Jensen, two people who have been influenced by the Dogme movement in Denmark. That movement seeks to make films with a sense of realism. Although there is much in this film that is outside the Dogme Vow of Chastity, the realism of the relationships in the film is exceptional. This is a moving and disturbing film that lays bare the emotions of its characters. The performances are powerful and gripping, especially by Ulrich Thomsen as Michael.

As the film open, Michael, an army major, is getting ready to leave for duty in Afghanistan. His brother Jannik is getting out of prison. They are so different. Michael is the straight shooter – orderly, good leader, good husband and father. Jannik is the prodigal – unshaved, unreliable, often drunk, with no real future. One wonders how two brothers could be so different, but we also see the bond between them in the joy that they share when they are together.

Michael goes off to Afghanistan, but not long after he arrives, his helicopter is shot down and he is reported as dead. This shock brings grief to the family. Jannik now discovers a new role for himself in the family, and begins to grow into a more responsible person, taking care of Michael’s wife and daughters.

Then we discover that Michael was not killed, but has been taken prisoner. In confinement he has to do things that are unspeakable, and to him, unforgivable. Slowly, he is transformed into a dark and brooding man, who brings this terrible burden home when rescued.

In the end, we are left wondering if Michael will ever find his way back to the light of life. Because of Jannik’s transformation, we know it is possible, but can Michael find within himself the way to freedom? We are left with a taste of hope, but no answer.

The two brothers really serve as alter egos to one another. They are yin and yang – perfectly opposite and perfectly complimentary. As the film plays out, the balance between them shifts. As one grows more loving, the other loses the capacity to love. As one finds life, the other is mired in death.

Perhaps what makes stories about brothers so fascinating is that we may discover that really the brothers usually have to be combined to make a whole. If we look at the stories of Cain and Abel, Jacob and Esau, or the Prodigal Son and his older brother, we will likely discover that both brothers live within us.

Brothers is a compelling and evocative exploration of that dual nature within us expressed in the interplay of these two brothers. As we watch the transformation of each brother, we see that the absolutes we thought were the case don’t stand up. As the film opens, it is very clear who is the “good brother� and who is the “bad brother�. It is hard to see the potential that either has to change so dramatically. Yet the potential for good or bad has always been within each of them (as it always is within each of us).

—Overview
—Photos
—About this Film