Eighth

The Constant Gardener [2005]

I really, really liked City of God. It had an aura of authenticity about it. That air of simple, brutal everyday. How ordinary people can be killed on a mundane Monday morning, without anybody giving a shit. That honesty, for a lack of a better word, carries on over into The Constant Gardener. I seem to like many films of Ralph Fiennes', even though I generally do not particularily care for his acting. But Rachel Weisz. Man, oh man. She can just epitomize that bad-influence-but-with-good-intentions thing, with one look. You know she's trouble. But good trouble. The right trouble. The kind of trouble somebody should be making. Just like she did in Enemy at the Gates, another film by a fine director, and another one with a Fiennes, i.e. little brother Joseph, who I also think is rather dull. And yes, I did think he was OK in Shakespeare in Love. This time around, she gets more focus, more room, and fills it out completely. She portrays a fully three-dimensional person. Determined, passionate, fallable, but with a heart of gold. Filled with love. When she "walks" over to Fiennes' character, at the end of the movie, and softly sits down with him, smiling, it was as if something squeezed my heart. Hard. Maybe it is just that dark and heavy breath of Africa, or maybe it is because deep down, I wish I was doing something close to what Weisz' character is doing. Or perhaps I just think she is a damn good actress. Whatever it is, if she doesn't win the Oscar tonight for this, I will be very, very disappointed. Even if the fantastic Frances McDormand is also nominated.

 

Believe

Religion means never having to ask why.

When I look into my daughter's eyes I see worlds and universes. Miracles that I can't take credit for creating.

Somebody help me reconcile this.

Please?

Seventh

Hair [1979]

You see, what I thought would take away was this: "I got life, mother. I got laughs, sister. I got freedom, brother. I got good times, man. I got crazy ways, daughter. I got million-dollar charm, cousin. I got headaches and toothaches. And bad times too. Like you." Because that's how I feel. I generally feel I got life. Life, life, life, life, life! But it didn't. Maybe because this holds more dread, more terror, more futility, and is more real to me than the tens of thousands who died in Vietnam—or the millions that died in WWII, for that matter. Or maybe it is because I couldn't get past the fact that this is a big-budget Hollywood incarnation all the way, made a decade after the summer of love. Choreographed, trimmed, snipped, shined and brushed, with only an inkling of wildness left intact. One of the few things in it that tug at you are the lyrics. I was stoppedm, cold, by this: "How can people be so heartless? How can people be so cruel? Easy to be hard. Easy to be cold. How can people have no feelings? How can they ignore their friends? Easy to be proud. Easy to say no. And especially people, who care about strangers. Who care about evil, and social injustice. Do you only care about the bleeding crowd? How about a needing friend? I need a friend. How can people be so heartless. You know I'm hung up on you. Easy to give in. Easy to help out." There is a warning in there. For those that keep yapping about how they want to save the World, but can't find the way. Not seeing what is right in front of you. Hearing nothing. Lacking all humility. Gratitute. Humbleness. A friend said the other day that it was sad to see that I had this urge, this need, to live a fuller, richer life, and couldn't seem to find a way to do that. She is right. It is sad.

 

Shooting straight

I love those 'the emperor has no clothes' moments. It is so refreshing when someone publicly writes something candidly about an issue. Something which everyone working in that field are thinking, but nobody has said out loud. Some because they are afraid of losing their aura of respectability by speaking too harshly, others because they are weary of the resulting besiege by those that can't see the facts straight.

But sometimes, if something is a load of crap, somebody may point that out.

Idiots in ivory towers

Finally.

Tendrils

Do you really want an insight into my seriously warped mind?

OK.

I just can not tear myself away from this.

Now you know.

Angels

Every now and then, I become slightly aware. As if I almost wake from my slumber, catching a glimpse of what lies behind that thin vail called 'reality'.

Once upon a time, I used to see more. A lot more. When I was a kid, I had several friends who I soon discovered noone else could see. It was troubling, and confusing, but at the same time strangely comforting. Mostly because they were there out of kindness. I could feel it, their good emanating.

Through your life, you meet good people. And you tend to stay with them. Or try to. Those people in which you sense good. Maybe beneath a rough surface. They may even try to hide it. Protect it. Shield it. But somehow, it still shines through. At least to you. And it disarms you.

Then there are those that are persistently kind. Unconditionally. Without reserve. Always forgiving. Always looking for the good in others. And finding it. Watching someone like that is to witness an amazing power. A true tour de force. Being able to withstand the withering touch of human callousness for a lifetime, and still maintaining such innocence, hope, and faith in mankind, is the greatest show of strength I know. It is humbling. And, for us who are not that strong, it can be infuriating. Realizing that you are not that strong. That by comparison, you are petty. And selfish. Greedy. And small.

But as the years go by. You understand more. You gain respect for people that walk humbly through life. With tenderness in their heart. Unshakably believing in the good in man. And you realize that you can not be resentful or envious of these beings, even if you doubt that you could ever be that strong. Instead of expecting, you accept. Embrace. You let yourself be inspired. And enjoy the time that you have together. This inestimable time, in the presence of angels.

Next week, one of these angels would have turned 92. Every now and then, I feel his presence. His warm smile, his kind touch. He seems to stay close to my daughter. Watching over her.

Happy birthday, dad.