Ditch Doc

I don’t like much of Anthony Hopkins’ work, but having watched “A Bridge Too Far”, I now see why he’s famous. Lieutenant-Colonel Frost is one of the best written, best acted heroes in Hollywood. He speaks softly. Maybe too softly, and a bit high. He brings his dinner jacket and golf clubs to Holland. The blasts on his tiny bugle seem affected, even dweeby. But he doesn’t let the cheering crowds in Arnhem get to his head. He just wants to see the bridge in one piece. He apologizes to the owner for having to occupy the house overlooking the bridge, but wastes no time in smashing out the windows and placing machine guns. He politely directs the front line of defence, and politely tells the German translator requesting his surrender to go to Hell. He takes the news that no reinforcements are coming dispassionately, and gets back to the hopeless business of keeping a Panzer division at bay with a few hundred exhausted men. And at the end, the position lost, the bulk of his men dead or wounded and himself crippled, he dismisses his batman with a small smile and the words: “We just didn’t make it this time, did we?”
On seeing Frost’s courage unfold, we might be tempted to refer to ‘character development’. But that smile belongs to the same soft-spoken gentleman we met at the beginning, who was already then the battle-ready leader of men that we see now. Only our knowledge of the man has developed.

Come to think of it, the Catholicism in Bella is a lot like the Catholicism in New York, where it’s set: all you can point at is a nun here and a handful of palm leaves there, and yet it seems like the whole city is vaguely aware of the presence of Christ. After you see Bella, go visit New York.

Before I start, you should understand that I am not one who automatically approves of movies that are popular with Catholics just because they’re popular with Catholics. The “Jesus inventing the table” notion in The Passion annoyed me as much as the next guy, and after two poorly acted, poorly produced hours of a movie on JPII, I plan not to watch the other four. So you should take me seriously when I say “Go see Bella.” The story is touchingly handled, a couple of the actors are superb, and the directing is subtle and inventive. The flavour of Catholicism is indispensable to the story, and yet unobtrusive. It’s more like the rum in the Christmas pudding than the pink and green icing flowers on the cake at the office party. The same goes for the prolife “message,” which isn’t really a message at all. There’s not a word about the rights of the unborn or the sanctity of life. There’s just a movie about forgiveness, the little surprises of providence, and people living happily in spite of suffering. I doubt that Bella will make you a much better soldier in the fight for life. But it is a cheerful reminder that when all is said and done, life is still worth fighting for.

It will do your soul great good to go and see this movie. The filmmaker waited sixteen years to be allowed into the Carthusian monastery of la Grande Chartreuse to film the lives of the monks. The result was 162 nearly silent minutes of footage, all filmed without a crew or artificial lighting. There’s no soundtrack and no narration, and only one short interview, from which the interviewer’s voice has been deleted so as not to spoil the Carthusian-ness. You might leave the theater with a better understanding of monastic life, and I’ll bet you’ll go through your whole next day a lot more slowly and quietly.

“Only Sith speak in absolutes!”

You absolutely sure about that, Obi-Wan?

If anyone is wondering what the big deal is with classical music, and whether maybe everyone is just pretending to like it, while in fact it’s just boring, I have a cure. Classical music is like beer: Some people think they don’t like it, but it’s just that they’ve only tasted Coors. So here are two stout draughts that have very much increased my own thirst for classical music: Pablo Casals’ recording of Bach’s Cello Suites, especially the first prelude (featured in Master and Commander). I think EMI sells it. Casals practised these pieces for 12 years before he played one publically. And Arcangelo Corelli’s Concerti Grossi, Op. 6. Master and Commander plays the adagio from the eighth concerto. While we’re at it, if there’s anyone who can’t see the virtues of the English language, (and I think there are more of these than either of the first two), go out and buy Master and Commander, and read it. The only way you can despise the language of your birth is if you haven’t learned to speak it. This book will begin to teach you.

I always think that when one of the warnings on a movie is “adult situations,” the movie should feature scenes of people repairing cars, waking up in the middle of the night to comfort crying babies, and filling out tax returns.

Well, Portia, I’m honoured, but I don’t think my answers would be sufficiently interesting to be worth posting. Since the books and movies bits don’t really have to do with me though, and since I don’t want to be a complete codger, here goes:
Good books (In no particular order):

1. The Divine Names Pseudo-Dyonysius
2. The Brothers Karamazov Fyodor Dostoyevsky
3. The Screwtape Letters C.S. Lewis
4. The “De Deo” section of the Summa Theologica St. Thomas Aquinas
5. Notes from Underground Fyodor Dostoyevsky
6. The Cypresses Believe in God Josemaria Gironella
7. A Song for Nagasaki Fr. Paul Glynn
A gratuitous eighth: Master and Commander (and from what I hear, the rest of the series too.) Patrick O’Brian

Good movies:

1. Life is Beautiful
2. The Milagro Beanfield War
3. Hero
4. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon
5. The Passion (almost too good and too prayerful to list as a movie)
6. Strictly Ballroom
7. Pulp Fiction (heh, heh…)