passionate pondering

The furor over Mel Gibson’s new movie, “The Passion of the Christ”, is amazing and intriguing. I am not so intrigued by the charges of anti-Semitism as I am the criticism of the movie for its violence.

Criticizing this film for its violence implicitly points out how visual media have distorted the modern perception of reality. Clearly, the torture and crucifixion of Jesus was an extremely violent affair. Those who should be condemned are Gibson’s artistic predecessors who have watered down reality in a play for box office success. Apparently, we don’t like blood and gore unless it is in fictional accounts or computer games.

The truth is that while fictional violence does de-sensitize us to violence, factual violence has the exact opposite effect.

The silver screen has done far more to romanticize war than any novel ever could. In generations past, the imagination did not have to stretch too far to envision the grizzly truth because it was so close to their common experience. An 19th century school child reading Tennyson’s “The Charge of the Light Brigade” experienced far more horror as the heroes charged to the guns than the horror felt by the 20th Century moviegoer watching Errol Flynn make that same charge. Mid-century patriotic John Wayne and Ronald Reagan flicks only served to further distance us from the reality of war. If Art imitates Life, then these are poor imitations indeed.

Slowly but surely Hollywood has made much needed progress in realism. It is hard to forget the sound of the bullets zipping through the water at Omaha Beach in “Saving Private Ryan”, or the horrible shock of the devastating weapons used during “Blackhawk Down.”. The realism of these films hopefully serves to educate individuals such as myself that no longer butcher their own stock for survival on the harsh realities that we purposefully push out of sight. At the risk of going a cliché (or two) too far, I would suggest out of sight is in fact out of mind in this case.

And our collective forgetfulness does affect important things. We have rushed forthwith into violent conflict numerous times in the last twenty years and I am convinced part of the reason is the antiseptic view of war given to us by film. It is nothing less than immoral for a people who do not understand the nature and quality of the individual acts that constitute war to charge its sons and daughters into the guns. Of course, it is equally immoral to turn our heads in horror and refuse the just war simply because of its horror, but I do not think that is the form of ignorance that presently afflicts We the People.

Which brings me to the graphic torture of Jesus.

Maureen Dowd, bless her hate filled little heart, wrote the column that got my dander up enough to get me to opine on the subject. Therein she derided the violence and what she viewed as anti-Semitism which is implied by the fact that the Romans are not around to hate anymore. Dowd, like so many of our hyper-ventilating politically correct crowd, conveniently ignore the fact that the death of Jesus has been used for over two-thousand years by that insipid lot who reduce the execution to its simplest elements in order to validate their pre-formed prejudices.

The brutality of the death of Jesus and our collective accountability for the need for a Christ is the central theme of Christianity. The only thing that has changed down through the centuries has been our sterilization of the visual imagery of that violent death.

This deliberate sterilization in the plastic arts is a far different thing than it is in modern cinema. The visual portrayal of events and history creates vivid mental images that supplant the self-generated images of our literary imaginations. If you doubt this, try re-reading “The Lord of the Rings” and avoid the visuals that Peter Jackson has given us. Jackson’s brilliant rendering obliterates pre-existing mental images thoroughly. This truth is what makes films such as Gibson’s so necessary.

The omnipresent audio-visual media has done more than enrich our esthetic intake: it has changed us in fundamental ways. Gore and violence is thankfully no longer a central part of our lives, so it is up to the Arts to bring it to us as a substitute for what once was common experience. Finally, Gibson has given us an account of an old story that is fitting for our times.

Hey Maureen, get a clue: you are supposed to be outraged.

beer slushies

One of the great things about this time of year is that it is the season for my favorite beers. Living in Dallas limits what you can partake of when one goes out and about, but we still try.

We are educating Dallastonians one bartender at a time.

We hit one of our favorite restaurants, the Melting Pot, as a Chirstmas treat last week when we had a baby-sitter. They actually have Guinness in the pub drought cans and we love it with the cheddar cheese fondue appetizer. We arrived early and ended up seated at the bar waiting . So, I ordered Bass and added what has become my standard directive in Texas: “and we would like that in room temperature glasses.”

The nice young lady was all in a funk over this rather ordinary request as they apparently did not have any glasses that were not encrusted with a layer of frost. I resisted caving in out of pity. “Do you have any Dixie cups?”, I asked, adding, “I’d rather drink beer from a Dixie cup that ruin it with a frosted mug.”

Now any one not from the Southern United States probably does not fully appreciate the pain I was putting this poor gal through. People down here just don’t have any appreciation for beers that are not thin, insipid and so bad in flavor as to demand being served slushy style. The nice thing to do, that is the Christmas Spirit thing to do, was to say, “That’s OK, I’ll just wait on it to warm up.”

But when it comes to beer, nice just isn’t me.

I think I lost my charitable spirit once a couple of years ago in an Italian restaurant that we frequented in part because they served Bass (good beer with a decent meal is very hard to come by down here). On the last of many trips to this place, we were served beers that were literally frozen. Can’t pour it out of the bottle frozen.

I wasn’t too upset about the frozen Bass and in fact was rather amused because I had lamented previously that they serve they Bass too cold, but we knew could wait for the bottle to warm up some by the time dinner was served. I went back up to the dude who served the beers and told him I needed a couple more beers as the two they served me were frozen. With a straight face, he said, “What’s the problem.” I replied that freezing ruins the beer and that I would like a beer that had been properly kept at an appropriate temperature. “But they are better that way!”, he responded, practically shouting.

I settled for a refund on my beer.

So the poor gal at the Melting Pot was dealing with a deep bitterness: she had no clue what was hitting her. All worked out well. I gave her a short lesson on beer temperature and she offered to prepare some glasses for us so that when we ordered our Guinness from the table, the glasses would be ready.

One bartender down, a few hundred thousand to go.

the hardest working boob in showbiz

I am in awe of the amount of attention being paid to Janet Jackson’s right breast. While I share in the public’s disapproval, I really think it is time to get a grip. Its not like overt sexuality hasn’t been a part of the Super Bowl for some time-and I’m not just referring to the player’s off the field exploits. Football has been tied to bikini clad beer girls almost as long as pin-ups have been mandatory in Texaco station repair shops.

Is it just me, or doesn’t it seem like we have real problems? Maybe I’m twisted, but JJ’s boob just isn’t on the same radar screen as unemployment, Iraq, the conflict in Israel/Palestine, or our corrupt ruling class. It seems pretty clear to me that our youth are corrupted in a far more serious way by observing the obscene political process than by a bare breast only seen by Tivo users.

But here we are with preening politicians feigning outrage over the obscenity, to whom I would put the obvious rhetorical question: Is the subject breast more obscene than your behavior?