Godzilla 2014 Eval

Okay, this is going to be very, very short because I don't want to give anything away.

I saw the new Godzilla movie.  I thought it was okay.

I loved Alexander Desplat's score, and I loved the special effects—there were plenty of moments where I jumped in my seat, or was in awe of how freaking amazing Godzilla was.  I liked the fact that a good portion of the movie was set in Japan and I liked Ken Watanabe's character a lot—I even liked his assistant.  They felt more real than typical hollywood scientists.

But I also liked Bryan Cranston's character a LOT, and I really wish he'd gotten more screen time.  Just as I wish Godzilla had gotten more screen time.  Like, seriously, I needed more Godzilla.  I feel like the movie started the kaiju hunt and never stopped to let me really wallow in how bad the situation was.  I also disliked the ending.  I will only forgive the ending if they make a sequel and have Godzilla lay waste to EVERYTHING.

Godzilla Pre-Movie Excitement

Godzilla is coming out soon—tomorrow, to be exact—so I figure I better roll this out quick!

Personally, I'm excited about it.  At first glance I thought this was just going to be another CGI-fest (seriously, just because you CAN show the whole monster doesn't mean you should) but since I saw the official trailer I've been a lot more optimistic.  This new Godzilla looks like it's going to be true to the original vision, both in form (check out that new design!!!) and in spirit.

One thing I love is Bryan Cranston's voice in the background:  "You are not fooling anyone when you say that what happened was a natural disaster!  You're lying!  It was not an earthquake, it wasn't a typhoon . . . because what's really happening, is you're hiding something out there!  And it's gonna send us back to the stone age!!!"  See, that is how people should sound when they're talking about Godzilla.  I don't care how educated or levelheaded they are.  If a skyscraping radiation-breathing behemoth surfaced on my planet, I'd be sweating buckets just thinking about it.

Also, it has Ken Watanabe.  Ken Watanabe makes everything better.

Seriously, this is all it takes and I'm sold.

—

I'm actually not all that familiar with Godzilla lore.  I mean, I watched a kaiju marathon on tv when I was, like, ten, but I don't remember anything worth mentioning.  My primary exposure to Godzilla (or at least to anything bearing the name of Godzilla) comes from the original film and from the 1998 Emerich movie.  The latter got a bad rap, which I'm beginning to understand, but hey, I enjoyed it.  (Well, at least I enjoyed it more than Emerich's other films.)  Here's my take:

The problem with the 1998 Godzilla was that its creators deconstructed the original story and used all of its face-value concepts to create a comparatively soulless film.  The original Godzilla was a result of atomic radiation, and so the 1998 Godzilla is a result of atomic radiation; the original Godzilla was amphibious, and so the 1998 Godzilla is amphibious; the original Godzilla did damage to a major city, and so the 1998 Godzilla does damage to a major city; and so on and so forth.

In the interest of making this modern Godzilla more realistic, though, the film centers on the lizard's disinterested, amoral, even vulnerable animal nature.  The movie uses the concept of the atomic bomb to illustrate man's capacity for destruction, and Godzilla is actually a foil for this:  A simple-minded animal pursuing the natural, innocent business of eating, nesting, and reproducing while the military attempts to destroy him, causing an absurd amount of damage along the way.  Which I guess isn't a bad idea in and of itself—it's just not Godzilla.

"So long, and thanks for all the fish!"

The original message wasn't about man's destructive capacity, it was about realizing man's helplessness.    (So . . . essentially the opposite.)  The japanese military in the story demonstrates innovation and resourcefulness in its quest to end Godzilla's reign, but to no avail:  Man, in all his technological might, is no match for him.  The people of Japan are all but doomed.

And Godzilla is a force of destruction inspired by the atomic bomb, yes, but he plays a part in a much different metaphor.  The really eery thing about his 1954 appearance is that he almost seems to be within his rights to terrorize Japan, as though its people somehow deserved his existence.  It's horrific.  But it's not like a typical monster movie where the people are guilty of an obvious indiscretion (like, say, covering up a shark attack before the fourth of july) so you don't spend any screen time hating the guy to blame—be it the director from King Kong or that jerk from Aliens; if anything you just feel incredible sympathy for the masses crushed beneath his feet.

The only crime is the lack of respect for nature.  As Watanabe says in the 2014 trailer, "The arrogance of man is thinking nature is under our control, and not the other way around."  (Another reason to be excited for the movie.)  Godzilla is nature aggravated by the products of war, the embodiment of wrath itself, come to claim respect from the puny humans.  There's no other explanation for him coming ashore—he's just there to make people suffer.

It's sort of like the Tower of Babel.
. . . Y'know, if instead of making the builders speak different
languages God decided to sic a giant reptile on the place instead.

It's possible, even, that Godzilla is meant as a consequence or retribution for Japanese Imperialism.  Not as american post-war propaganda, but because that's the sort of thing that would be in the hearts and minds of the populace at the time the movie came out.  Think about it:  Godzilla is like a blast from the old traditions of Japan, reminding them of natural power after their stint trying to claim world power for themselves.  I don't think american propaganda had a hand in it because I don't think americans at the time would have been able to develop the character of Godzilla: he's too much a product of Japanese culture.

This leads me to a weird little idea I've had about the whole Godzilla legend that ties in with the monster's gradual evolution to monster-movie hero.  It is weird, but maybe someone will find it interesting:

As it's often been said, Godzilla is a destructive force.  But according to traditional Japanese culture and religion, there is a bit of "the divine" in everything, so in his own way Godzilla could be called a god.  A god of wrath.  Now look at how he goes from being the destroyer to the defender.  It's like he does his work to punish the humans, but when other monsters want a piece of the action he's almost like a guardian, as though to mean that having learned their lesson, the humans do not deserve to suffer more.

. . . Yeah, I'm off my nut, aren't I?  . . . I thought so.

—

So, yeah, the 1954 movie was awesome.  It was moving, it was interesting, it was even scary.  I don't know about you, but something about the ol' black-and-white style, cheesy as it was, made everything seem so much creepier.  Monsters are just plain scarier when you can't see them properly.  Even the music was amazing.

So what about this new film?  I have high hopes.  Partly because it gives its own little homage to the original film—"In 1954, we awakened something . . ."—which begs the question, did the bombs used to try to destroy Godzilla just spread radiation and make him grow to the obscene size he is in the trailer?

Also, the CGI.  I get so tired of blockbusters trying to outdo each other with the latest, flashiest, most extravagant effects money can buy when all I want is something realistic.  I want to be convinced, not overwhelmed.  Remember all the crazy HD closeups of the alien mothership from District 9?  No, you don't, because Neil Blomkamp was a smart director and realized it would be more believable if it was treated like a part of the background.

"FINALLY!!!  THANK—oh, wait, it's just CGI, isn't it?"

But from the looks of the new Godzilla, the CGI has not been taken lightly.  From what we do see of him, he looks as real as the buildings around him.  And that makes me very, very happy.  Plus he's just overall designed well, so . . . yeah, I think it's gonna be good.  And I'm really, really looking forward to seeing some atomic breath . . .

"Duuuuck and cover, Duuuuck and cover . . ."

I do have some misgivings, though.  It's seems like there's going to be another kaiju in the film, possibly Rodan, the giant pterodactyl.  How is that going to work?  I don't want Godzilla to have to share the spotlight—he's the King of Monsters, for crying out loud—but I guess it could work.  This isn't a genre I've spent a lot of my creative process on, so what do I know?  I'll tell you what, though, if I were writing this movie and I had to put Rodan in, I'd introduce him first—show the military in the process of trying to work out a reasonable plan of attack against this monster only to have Godzilla appear and show everyone what a REAL threat looks like. . . Then maybe later the two could fight.  You know, for tradition's sake.

Review: "The Fifth Estate"

So I recently watched the Dreamworks production "The Fifth Estate", which is loosely based on the books WikiLeaks: Inside Julian Assange's War on Secrecy by the Guardian and Inside WikiLeaks by Daniel Domscheit-Berg:  I think I made my obsession interest with the website fairly clear back in October (if you haven't read the post, clear an hour of your time to do so); I think it's safe to say that I didn't go into this film flying blind.  And I feel pretty confident about what I liked and didn't like about it.

So, without further ado, I give you my critique:

The movie starts off on the right foot; it begins at the end, in the center of the chaos that is the publication of hundreds of thousands of classified documents, and it forces the audience to wonder "How did things ever get to this point?"

I can't think of a better way to begin such a movie, myself. It's sort of a no-brainer:  Being such recent history, the publication isn't a spoiler, and there's no way to get the audience excited about the movie to come without a lot of visible excitement.

Once the movie flashes back to 2007, though . . .

. . . it's all slush.

To begin with, the script was weak.  If you frequent WikiLeaks at all, you may be aware of a draft of the script that was leaked to the site and published there in full (along with plenty of commentary pointing out the film's inaccuracies).  Bill Condon, the director, addressed this in an interview prior to release, saying that the script bore little resemblance to the final draft that was used for filming.  Spoiler Alert:  He was lying.  The draft on WikiLeaks and the draft used in the movie are very, very similar.  I mean, some things were deleted, yes—the movie does not feature a scene with Assange idly sucking on a lemon—but nothing of significance.  If I'm perfectly honest, I have to say that Assange did moviegoers a favor leaking that script.

And, unfortunately, it's even worse in execution than in print.  The storytelling is messy, disorienting, and yet dull all at once.  It is genuinely hard to care about what's going on.  About forty minutes into the movie I found myself wondering, "Is it halfway through?" and then before the ninety minute mark had to restrain myself from skipping ahead.  The filmmakers took the story of WikiLeaks—WikiLeaks!!!—and made me not want to watch it.  That's not just embarrassing, that's criminal.

I think part of the problem is that no one in charge knew what they wanted the movie to be.  You watch it and wonder what it's really about.  Obviously it's not a documentary, and it's not supposed to be a judgment on Assange or his organization—so what is it?  Is it a thriller about whistleblowers versus big government?  Is it a bromance-gone-bad between Assange and Domscheit-Berg?  Is it a historical drama about political activism, freedom of speech, and/or the transparency movement?

No.  It's none of these things.  The movie is advertised as a thriller, but you can't really believe that—nor should you—given that the real action, up until the big finale, occurs in cyberspace.  And the story, more or less, is about two idealistic but very naïve computer nerds who go about exposing corruption till they bite off more than they can chew and the whole thing blows up in their faces—but that's okay because they've also unwittingly opened the door for a new era of journalism, a "fifth estate".

Right from the beginning you have a problem, and that's in the portrayal of the characters.  Assange and Domscheit-Berg (then Berg) are neither true to history nor believable on their own.  You see, the movie paints them as idealists—especially Berg—with little grasp of the repercussions their leaks could have.  It might work, and even be exciting, if they were in their early twenties.  But they're not, they're in their late thirties.  Grown men—the sort of men who ran WikiLeaks in real life—should understand the gravity of the situation.  It's an insult to the work of both Julian Assange and Daniel Domscheit-Berg to depict them as clueless romantics.  The men who went up against Julius Baer, the church of Scientology and Kaupthing knew the weight of the risks involved, but went ahead anyway; that's part of the reason the real thing is more exciting than the movie.  It's almost as though the director, or writer, or whomever responsible didn't appreciate the consideration or strategy that went into WikiLeaks.  Plenty of geeks can set up a website; it takes cunning to defend it against international attacks.

The character problems are also a big part of what makes the movie so hard to follow thematically.  Because the director, short of deciding what the movie should be, focuses almost exclusively on avoiding what it shouldn't:  Judging Assange.

It's a noble goal; if you're going to create a movie based on someone not only influential but still living, you should make some effort to portray them objectively.  What you should not do, however, is drive this idea into the ground till the character is inscrutable and inconsistent.

Certain things Assange does in the movie come straight from firsthand accounts, such as eating with his hands and then wiping them on his trousers, but other things are completely bogus.  Within a day of meeting Berg face to face, for example, he intimates an incredibly depressing anecdote in casual conversation.  The real Assange is known to share unnerving information about himself, often with the media, but it's almost always as a means of being funny or making himself sound more interesting, not to garner sympathy.  But the writer had to explain Assange's background somehow, and I guess flashbacks were just too difficult to work into the story.

But if the story is so important, why does it feel like so many scenes were written in with no other purpose but to put Assange in a sympathetic light?  And why do they have to be so inconsistent?  I mean, one minute he's telling Berg to buy a crypto phone, like he knows there's danger, and then the next he's horribly shocked that two of his associates are killed, as though it comes as a genuine surprise that there are risks involved.  And what was up with the whole dyeing-his-hair thing???

Is telling the real story of WikiLeaks so scary that it can't be done without leaving out anything that might spark a debate, or inventing things about the main character to keep him "balanced"?  A word of advice, then, to the filmmakers:  Next time you want to create a movie that won't upset anyone, DON'T BASE IT ON JULIAN ASSANGE.

"I know the film intends to depict me and my work in a negative light.
I believe it will distort events and subtract from public understanding."—Julian Assange

I can't fathom what the writer, or the director, were thinking.  I mean, do they have any storytelling talent?  Can't they tell when anything feels wrong??  Did they just not care???  Or did Assange somehow convince them to make a terrible movie just so he could talk smack about something?

. . . Actually, that sort of makes sense, considering how bored he must be right now.  (But I doubt he'd have the funds.)

Not all is terrible about the movie, though.  The visual analogies of the old WikiLeaks submission platform are interesting, and Carter Burwell's score is excellent—especially the piece played during the end scene.  And Benedict Cumberbatch is right to receive so much praise for playing Assange.

I still question the decision to cast him—his face is just so narrow—but if you can relax and watch the show without trying to reconcile Cumberbleach's profile to that of his character, the accuracy of the performance will sneak up on you.  Cumberbatch is already established as a master of body language, but the fact is especially clear portraying Assange.  And I'm not just referring to Assange's persistent blinking.  (If he couldn't duplicate that, the casting director would have to be shot.)  It's the walk, the poise, the shrug, the hand gestures, etc.  With little to no help from the script (or his own physicality), Cumberbatch captures the essence of his subject.

The best scene in the movie, by far, is the last one—and no, not just because it is the last.  The scene takes place in the Ecuadorian Embassy, where Assange reflects on his situation, and the "WikiLeaks movie" to a silent, off-screen interviewer.  It allows movie-Assange to give real-Assange's views on the movie, which is an interesting (if creepy) irony; the music is perfect, both heartbreaking and haunting; and Cumberbatch has the floor for the entirety of the scene, giving a monologue on the real-life topics that make the story of WikiLeaks so interesting.  So it's all the strengths and none of the weaknesses.  The finale of the movie might have been botched, but at least the conclusion was well done.  Meh.

Dynamic Duos

Today I feel like celebrating my favorite movie/tv couplings—you know, pairs of actors who for whatever reason work amazingly well onscreen.  They make magic just by feeding off each other's performance, making you believe that their separate character could, in reality, come together and behave just as the script demands.

Let's begin!

James Roday / Dulé Hill

I love these guys so much.  Shawn (Roday) is obviously the lead on the show, but Gus (Hill) cannot be taken for a mere sidekick.  They are, quite convincingly, best friends.  But not just best friends as grown ups, best friends from childhood.  They were learning to be stupid together before it even became cool (i.e., before middle school).  They're closer, and cooler, than brothers.

David Tennant / Catherine Tate

I know, I know! we're supposed to like Rose best—but I can't help it.  Catherine Tate absolutely killed it as Donna Noble, and after watching her with David Tennant I can't watch series 2 and 3 without feeling that the show just isn't . . . complete.

The fun part is that Donna and the Doctor are strictly, but easily, platonic.  There's no hint of sexual tension, they just make a great team as is:  She is the grounded to his geeky, the fire to his indignation and the sympathy to his solitude.  They both like to go places and they both care about people, but unlike his other companions, Donna is down-to-earth and straightforward.  When the Doctor tries to sound cool by getting technical, she's not afraid to roll her eyes and go, "Yeah, right."

Doctor:  "Hey, some of these books are from your future!  Don't wanna read ahead—spoilers."

Donna:  "Isn't traveling with you one big spoiler?"

(Silence in the Library)

(It's no surprise that the two actors didn't stop working together after Doctor Who.  He guest-starred in at least two sketches on the Catherine Tate show, and they co-starred in Much Ado About Nothing.)

Kate Winslet / Leonardo DiCaprio

I almost feel like I have to work hard to defend this choice because of the chick-flick stigma to Titanic, but you know what?  I'm not going to bother.  Even if you didn't enjoy the first hour of the film, you have to admit that Winslet and DiCaprio worked beautifully together.  Yeah, they're two stupid kids doing stupid things, but it's hard to believe that if his Jack and her Rose really were on the Titanic they'd be any smarter.

Clark Gable / Vivien Leigh

A match made in purgatory!  Passionate, angry, gunpowder-and-fireworks purgatory.  Scarlett O'Hara (Leigh) takes four hours' screen time to decide she has any romantic feeling for Rhett (Gable) and not, in fact, for that married guy she spends all her time running after, but it doesn't matter:  You still think of them as a couple.  They make every scene they share a memorable one.

Bill Cosby / Phylicia Rashad

Cliff and Claire were living proof that you don't need a thousand petty, dysfunctional drama clichés to make an entertaining sitcom relationship.  90% of the conflict in the marriage revolved around raising the kids responsibly and trying to find time to be alone together.  No cheating, no money mis-managing, no massive-and/or-childish-communication-failures that make it look like cheating.  Just toughing it out like mature adults.  Yes, they led believably stressful lives, and yes, they had their share of spats, but at the end of the day you could always count on the Huxtable parents to remain a team.  Mainly, as he puts it, because they're "afraid of the children."

But none of this would've been possible—and might've even seemed monotonous—without the chemistry of the stars involved.  So give a big hand to Bill Cosby and Phylicia Rashad.  Wherever he made the "Aren't I cute?" face she was always ready with the coy, but clearly won-over, look of "Hm, I haven't decided yet."

Kristy Swanson / Timothy Omundson

Casting really found a ringer with this one.  It's no surprise that, of all the couples on Psych, Lassiter and Marlowe were the first to go all the way.  Right from the get-go they were absolutely adorable together.

Lassiter:  "Did you find the girl I met last night???"

McNab:  "I might need a little bit more to go on, sir."

Lassiter:  "What do you mean?  What more do you need?  I told you, she's blond, and pale, and perfect, and beautiful, and perfect!—So get me a name and get me an address!!!"

Kristy Swanson's performance brings out in Omundson's a lovestruck side to Lassiter that we'd never seen before (and possibly never even imagined) yet it feels totally natural, not contrived at all.  All they have to do is smile at each other and you have a hard time remembering that they're just acting and not, in fact, madly in love.

Errol Flynn / Olivia DeHavilland

Lovers of old film will recognize these two.  Ever the swashbuckling hero and his feisty, drop-dead gorgeous beloved, they were Robin Hood and Maid Marion, Captain Blood and Arabelle Bishop, Wade Hatton and Abbie Irving, etc.  Oddly enough, only one of the eight movies in which the pair co-starred was actually tailored for the both of them, which was unusual treatment for well-known onscreen couples at the time (even more so than today).  In the other seven they were cast together simply because—well, because, let's face it, they worked brilliantly together.  They were just ridiculously, stupidly romantic.

Lara Pulver / Benedict Cumberbatch

 

Lara Pulver was, to be blunt, The Woman.  She was the perfect Irene Adler.  It's hard to tell where writing ends and acting begins, but I for one was ecstatic about the casting.  Cumberbatch and Pulver weren't the ideal romantic couple because there can be no such thing for Sherlock Holmes, but as dysfunctional intellectual flirts they take the cake.

Sherlock is already established as dry, imposing, omniscient, the very picture of intellectual invulnerability.  Enter Irene:  Devious, impish (a fact highlighted by Pulver's wonderfully childish voice) and blatantly sexual.  She is utterly convincing as the one person on earth who could pierce the Sherlockian ego and get under the detective's skin.

Martin Freeman / Amanda Abbington

Can't.  Even.

Anyone laboring under the dementia that nepotism spoils the show can leave now.  If it works, it works.  And in this case boy does it really work!!!  Amanda Abbington and Martin Freeman are the most convincing, most comfortable, most adorable Watsons one could ever imagine.  Anyone else playing Mary would feel forced or extravagant by comparison.

Though I had perfect faith in the writers to make Mary wonderful and was excited to see Freeman's real-life partner come to the show, I did wonder if it would be a bit strange for two people already romantically involved to play two different people also romantically involved—now I wonder what on earth I was worried about.  I might be imagining things, but there does seem to be a level of warmth and ease between two people who've been together for over ten years that two actors—no matter how brilliant—who are just doing a job simply cannot attain.  It's little things, subtle things, that you pick up on subconsciously; for example, if you watch closely, you might notice that Abbington and Freeman share a lot of the same facial expressions.  Simply put, you can't fake it.  This isn't just great chemistry for the sake of great chemistry, it's the real deal and it shows.

Martin Freeman / Benedict Cumberbatch

Fine.  I admit it.  This whole list may have just been an excuse to write about these two.

Both genius actors on their own (think:  The Hobbit, Star Trek Into Darkness) put them together and you have one of the best shows on television.

They seem an unlikely duo when you consider them separately.  Freeman usually stars in straightforward comedies as the "normal" guy (a description which doesn't nearly do him justice, but I promised myself I wouldn't turn this into an essay on Martin Freeman's sheer Awesomeness) while Cumberbatch tends to wind up in dark, thoughtful pieces like Wreckers, Parade's End, Stuart: A Life Backwards, Frankenstein, etc., playing . . . well, anyone and everyone, really.  And in real life (to all appearances, anyway) the two men are polar opposites, Freeman a man of mock angst and lightning wit, Cumberbatch an eternally polite (if occasionally very goofy) old soul.  Point being, you'd never expect to see them in the same show.

And yet here they are.  And ohmygosh it works so well.

Why does it work?  I dunno.  Maybe because Freeman is so studied in the art of observing the bizarre, and Cumberbatch so adept at capturing it.  Freeman's performance says, "That is so weird" and Cumberbatch answers, "You haven't seen anything yet!"  And they obviously both appreciate the weirdness; they're clearly having the time of their lives.

Sherlock, S3 Review

I've come to the conclusion that I must be the weirdest person on the planet.

Because the third series of Sherlock currently has a rating of 97% fresh from Rotten Tomatoes, and I find myself out in the cold with the missing 3%.

—Warning.  Spoilers for Series Three.—

Now, I liked the Empty Hearse.  The Fall theories were brilliantly funny (I did catch on in the first run:  I can accept bungee cords, if the writers are desperate, and even masks, but Sherlock did not kiss Molly.  That will never happen and if it does I'm tuning in to a different channel.)  The reunion was everything it needed to be and more.  (Special praise goes to Martin Freeman, who was absolutely riveting in his reactions, and to Amanda Abbington, who was charming and lovable.)  I also loved the scene with Mycroft and Sherlock, in which we get a brief, subtle, poignant look into what sets Sherlock apart from the rest of his family.  The mystery wasn't terrific, but it wasn't bad, either; and I it set my teeth on edge that Sherlock's ending apology proved a feint, but all in all it was great to see Sherlock come back.  It felt like old times . . .

. . . Except it wasn't.

Some people, I understand, enjoyed The Sign of Three.  And some of us did not.  I enjoyed parts of it, but I was still aching for a good case.  Not only were the mysteries in the episode below average, Sherlock's detective skills were sorely lacking.  I might have been able to forgive him for being an eccentric idiot throughout the wedding reception if it weren't for the fact that he got even worse when a potential murder presented itself.  You'd think he'd suddenly become cool, confident, and awesome—the Holmes we all remember from A Study in Pink and A Scandal in Belgravia—but no, he scampers around like a bonehead making goofy freudian slips and generally making a fool of himself.  The ending felt contrived and Major Sholto's presence totally out of place.  It was the first time I ever watched an episode of Sherlock and wanted to walk out early.  It wasn't a good feeling.

Then there was His Last Vow.  It was . . . gosh, I dunno.  It kept me engaged, I guess.  CAM was definitely a good villain.  He added a lot of dimension.  . . . And then Sherlock shot him.  So I guess we'll never get to find out what sort of character development he could have provoked.

Okay, my real problem with the last two episodes is that they feel like they're just there to appease fans. We keep getting reminded of past jokes, like Sherlock not knowing Lestrade's first name, just because they turned out to be funny once.  I wish the writers would go back to making things good for their own sake instead of pandering to what has become popular.

Moffat, Gatiss, let me fill you in on a little secret:  Fans are idiots.  We spend months and months pining after fictional characters and waste hours writing ridiculous fan fiction and pointless reviews like this just to feel a connection to something cooler than ourselves.  So stop feeding the fans and go back to making ART.

Series One and Two were so gorgeously intelligent and original.  They were insightful and passionate and made you think.  Sherlock Holmes was a genius who gloried in the mechanics of logic and reason and made you want to be just like him—or, you know, to marry him.  Now he's an emotional retard with some observational skills.  It sickens me.

Remember A Study in Pink?  Remember, when Sherlock and John first met, how he knew all about his sister?  I watched Sherlock tell John all about himself and thought, "The writers are bluffing.  Nobody could be that clever."  And then it turned out that he could.  Tan lines, some casual conversation, and one look at a man's phone.  That was all it took.  It quickly became very clear:  This isn't some american CSI, identifying that one unique speck of that one unique substance conveniently dotting your collar and testing it in a lab to find one isolated clue.  This is Sherlock Freaking Holmes.  The man who can see the mundane minutiae, put it all together, and piece together your life's story without batting an eye.

But now, apparently, it's just funny to watch Sherlock be stupid.  "Oh, look, he still can't figure out Lestrade's first name even though he would've made a point of remembering it ages ago to save face after his first mistake!  Haha!"  "Oh, look, Sherlock thinks he's helping John and doesn't even realize Mary's manipulating both of them to get them on a case, isn't it cute."  "Haha, Sherlock didn't even know Mrs. Hudson was the one who brought him tea every morning."  It's a miracle this guy has managed to solve anything.  What's next, a fez?  All my life I've been searching for distractions!  And Sherlock was the best distraction and now I don't even have it!  Because it's gone commercial!

In short, the writers have broken my heart and left me wondering why everything has to be dumbed down for the lowest common denominator.  What, was A Scandal in Belgravia too subtle for everyone?  Were there some people in the back row going, "Uhhhhh, why's his phone make that noise?"  Was The Hounds of Baskerville too original?  The Reichenbach Fall too involved?  I'm starting to think they're just complete sell-outs.  Especially with their joke, "You should put that on a T-shirt"—you know, the moment they say it, fans will be out to buy/create said T-shirt.  It's cheap and disgusting.

Hopefully someone will be able to stimulate some brainpower in our hero next series. . .

Homophobics

The church can't seem to make up its mind about homosexuality.  At one end you have Fred Phelps and the Westboro Baptists, on the other you have churches that have decided the bible can be interpreted to mean God doesn't actually have a problem with it, and somewhere in the middle you have fundamentalists crying "Hate the Sin, Love the Sinner".

I don't know how to address people who take the route of hatred: I've found that "reason is not automatic . . . Those who deny it cannot be conquered by it" (Ayn Rand).  But I also read my bible, which says:

"You shall not lie with a male as with a woman; it is an abomination." (Leviticus 18:22)

And we know this isn't isolated to the Law of Moses (even though the embellishment about it being an "abomination" ought to be enough to tell us God's feelings on the subject) because Paul writes about it in the new testament:

"Therefore God gave them up in the lusts of their heart to impurity, to the dishonoring of their bodies among themselves, because they exchanged the truth about God for a lie and worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator, who is blessed forever! Amen.  For this reason God gave them up to dishonorable passions.  For their women exchanged natural relations for those that are contrary to nature; and the men likewise gave up natural acts with men and receiving in themselves the due penalty for their error." (Romans 1:24—27)

So yes, homosexuality is a sin.  But even those who adhere to the bible—understanding that it is sin and wanting to witness in love to the homosexual community—often have a difficult time finding the right approach.  When their friends "come out of the closet" and ask to be accepted for "who they are," christians often become awkward, embarrassed, and tongue-tied.  How do you confront someone about a sin when you can't relate to their temptations?  How can you begin to understand what's going on in the head of a homosexual?

Well, I was mulling this over the other day and something occurred to me—an idea so simple I'm not sure why I've not heard it before.  Here's hoping it helps—not just christians in their witness, but any readers who would like to join a church but feel confused about their own sexuality:

There is no such thing as a homosexual.

That's right.  No such thing.  There are no "gays", there are no "lesbians".  I mean, if you're a christian in a conservative church, then you've probably already heard how there's no conclusive evidence to support the idea that some people are "just wired that way", but nevertheless we tend to separate people who are "tempted that way" from "normal people" in our heads.  We have to stop acting like one particular sin makes anyone so much different from us, and we can start by trying to remember that everyone created male or female remains inherently heterosexual.  There are homosexual acts, yes, but anyone who's committed one—or a hundred—can be redeemed by Christ.

The bible never uses the term "homosexual" or anything akin to it.  In Genesis it reads, "Now, the men of Sodom were wicked, great sinners against the Lord" (Genesis 13:13) but we never find out that homosexuality is in the picture until the men go to Lot's house demanding he send out the two angels he has brought into his house as guests.

"But before they lay down, the men of the city, the men of Sodom, both young and old, all the people to the last man, surrounded the house.  And they called to Lot, 'Where are the men who came to you tonight?  Bring them out to us, that we may know them.'  Lot went out to the men at the entrance, shut the door after him, and said, 'I beg of you, my brothers, do not act so wickedly.  Behold, I have two daughters who have not known any man.  Let me bring them out to you, and do to them as you please. Only do nothing to these men, for they have come under the shelter of my roof.'  But they said, 'Stand back!'  And they said, 'This fellow came to sojourn, and he has become the judge!  Now we will deal worse with you than with them.'  Then they pressed hard against the man Lot, and drew near to break the door down." (Genesis 19:4—9)

—

Lot's parenting aside, the point I'm trying to make is that God does not see people as "homosexual" or "heterosexual".  "For there is no distinction:  for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God" (Romans 2:22—23)*  As long as there is sin people will still undergo homosexual temptations, but "No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man.  God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it." (Romans 10:13)

There's a difference between temptation and sin—you might say that a temptation is a thought that comes to mind before you even realize it's there, while a sin is the act of pursuing that temptation, or even just bringing it back to mind.  Anyone—anyone can be tempted by homosexual thoughts; just because something comes into your head doesn't mean you're fated to be homosexual or whatever.  Just give the thought to God as you would any other temptation.  He loves us and wants us to honor Him with our minds and our bodies.  He DIED to save us from our sins.  He has all the incentive in the world to answer our prayers.

The really gruesome thing about the idea of homosexuality being an "orientation", though, is that it essentially seals off sinners from salvation.  The enemy likes to lead men into sin with all kinds of lies about how it's "okay" or "you'll be forgiven later" only to turn around once they've done the deed and shame them with their own wickedness so they despair of ever being forgiven; with homosexuality, shame isn't even necessary.  If someone truly believes that he cannot help the way he is—that he was just "born that way"—then he will never be able to completely accept what the bible has to say about his lifestyle or understand that God can and will help him overcome his temptations.

We are not defined by our temptations.  We are defined by our standing with the One True Living God, who is mighty to save and deserving of all glory, so we are only either sinners or sinners-saved-by-grace.  Anyone can come to Christ and, with the help of the Holy Spirit, be freed from all the entanglements of his former self.  "Let no sin therefore reign in your mortal body, to make you obey its passions.  Do not present your members to sin as instruments for unrighteousness, but present yourselves to God as those who have been brought from death to life, and your members to God as instruments for righteousness.  For sin will have no dominion over you, since you are not under law but under grace." (Romans 6:12—14)

Please take this as a message of hope and encouragement in the truth of God's Word.  Thank you.

*(Note:  I do not believe I have perverted the spirit of the message, but to dispel possible confusion I should point out that Paul is referring specifically to the distinction between jews and gentiles.)

"Fixer Upper"

Working on my review of "Frozen" and talking about how it was so nice to teach children discretion in relationships, I started wondering about one of the scenes—specifically, when Kristoff takes Anna to see the trolls, who bombard them with friendly well-wishes for matrimony in the song "Fixer Upper".  It occurs to me that there is a good message in the spirit of this song, but it's hidden behind what could potentially be misleading lyrics.

The trolls ask why Anna is "holding back on such a man" and then proceed to list off potential deal breakers:  "Is it the clumpy way he walks?/Or the grumpy way he talks" and so on, etc.  They then dismiss all this:  "So he's a bit of a fixer upper, but this we're certain of / You can fix this fixer upper with a little bit of love."

 But what is that supposed to mean?  He's a "fixer upper", meaning you'll be able to "fix" him, right?  Isn't that what you're NOT supposed to do?  I mean, marrying someone with intent to fix the things about them that bug you has always been a recipe for disaster.  Essentially you're taking advantage of an incredibly privileged amount of intimacy and then saying you don't totally accept them for who they are by asking them to do the impossible for you, when heaven knows you have your own problems.

Except I don't think that's really what the writers were going for when they created this song.  They try to avoid that impression when the troll played by Maia Wilson says, "We're not saying you can change him / 'Cause people don't really change—

—Which is good, but then she goes on:  "We're just saying that love's a force that's powerful and strange / People make bad choices if they're mad or scared or stressed / But throw a little love their way, and you'll bring out their best".  "Love's a force that's powerful and strange"—What does that teach children?  To trust that being nice to someone will, against all odds, make them a good person no matter what?

I don't think the song was meant to teach kids to settle for someone less than their "soul mate" or to expect that person to change for them.  But I do think it could be easily mistaken as such.

I think in reality the song is about accepting the flaws in the person you love.  We're all human and we've all got issues.  Some people have quirks that will drive you nuts, some people don't—but you don't marry the person you can live with, just the one you can't live without.  Even so, though, you will rub each other the wrong way at some point.  It's inevitable.  The point is to keep loving them regardless, to understand that they need you as much as you need them and not put all your needs and desires on their shoulders.  I'd go as far as say "Be a servant and make Jesus the most important relationship in your life so He can use you to love on your spouse!" but I think that's sort of going beyond what Disney was getting at.