I saw United 93 on Friday afternoon. It was an unusual experience. The movie was shown in one of the two big theaters at the local cineplex. This was hardly necessary as there were fewer than forty people attending. Perhaps the audiences were larger for the evening showings. The audience was an interesting mix of ages, genders, and races. There were a high number of people who were, like myself, there alone.
Upon first entering the cineplex, I wished for my wife's company. We don't often go to the movies, but it is always a fun night out. By the end of the movie, I was I glad that she had not come.
As a movie, United 93 has some quirks that I cannot decide are mildly annoying or simply necessary. First, a handheld camera is utilized for the entire movie, giving the movie the strong feel of a documentary. I have never been much of a fan of herky-jerky cinematography. At the same time, it made the film feel both detached and more real.
Second, the passengers and crew lack characterization. At first, I was surprised at this. Being a long-time consumer of disaster movies, I have come to expect certain things regarding the depiction of the victims of the disaster. They should be seen before boarding the plane, and details of family, career, personality traits, and the like should be quickly but purposely painted in order to make their pain more real when the moment of crisis comes. This was largely lacking. Yes, we see the characters prepare for boarding, settling in their seats, and choosing their meals, and we overhear random but anonymous comments from the passengers, but we never really learn who these people are. In fact, we don't spend much time with the passengers until after the midway point in the movie.
I have thought about this for a couple of days. I think this was done to deliberately suggest that each passenger was not a hastily drawn character-sketch (indeed who of the victims' families would be happy with a lifetime boiled down to sixty seconds of characterization), but that each of the passengers could have been one of us or one of our loved ones. Furthermore, the very wise decision to forgo professional actors lends this movie a very powerful reality. A reality that is very easy to make one's own. The passengers look like people we know, like our family members, or like ourselves. For one brief moment, I saw the face of my mother in the face of one of the passengers. That is the whole of the argument of the film like this. These were not characters in a movie, they were real people that were brutally murdered five years ago. This was very effectively done.
Most of what I have since read concerns whether American's are ready for such a movie; is it to soon for a 9/11 movie? I don't know the answer to that question. I do know that we cannot forget what happened that day. What happened that day should have shaken us. It should have re-shaped our thinking. It should have rededicated us to the defense of our nation and to the principles for which it stands. Much of that dedication has become passe today.
As I shared on Friday, I was uncomfortable seeing the movie at a house of entertainment. One of the pundits at MSNBC.com (I am too lazy to look up the link) refused to see it at all because they did not see it as a fit subject for entertainment. Neither do I. I did not get snacks, though many did. The movie was not entertainment. I left the theater, bewildered to walk back into a world of popping corn and children running with hands full of Twizzlers and Coke. Ultimately, that is point of a movie like United 93. It was the normal, everyday life of Americans that was attacked on that day. We can and should go on living that life, but we must never forget how that life has been given to us or that the battle continues.
That is why I teach history.
Peace
Update: this article says what I said, only better: Opinion Journal
Here is the link to the MSNBC story that I was too lazy to look up yesterday: Test Pattern
No, the irony did not escape me that my post "Unfinished Work", in which I criticized showing a slapstick comedy in the theater next to a film as serious as United 93, was published right next to my post "Beans, Beans..."
30 April 2006
28 April 2006
Unfinished Work
Fiorinda has just granted me permission to see a film without her. It was not much of a sacrifice for her. I am going to leave work a little early to see United 93.
It is not a movie that even I particularly want to see. I am not entirely sure why I am going to see it. I feel that I must, not just as a history teacher but for some other inexplicable reason.
That infernal day has had such an enormous impact upon me as teacher and as an American that I am compelled to remind myself of.....something. The evil in the world. The good that everyday steps up to combat the evil. The good that fall. The fact that sometimes the best the good can do is choose the lesser of two evils. At times like these I often hear the echoes of the words the world was to have so soon forgot after Lincoln uttered them on a similar killing field in Pennsylvania, "It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work..."
The cynic in me wonders if the passengers of have not been idolized as self-sacrificing heroes by propagandists with lower motives. I question whether it is appropriate to view such a movie in the same theater that is showing The Benchwarmers, a movie that is, if their trailers are accurate, about goofy looking people being struck in sensitive places with hard objects. I do not foresee myself purchasing popcorn or a Coke this afternoon. It would be too much like munching on Goobers at a funeral.
Sometimes we must bare witness to that which we do not enjoy. There is nothing noble or heroic in this; there is only necessity.
Peace
It is not a movie that even I particularly want to see. I am not entirely sure why I am going to see it. I feel that I must, not just as a history teacher but for some other inexplicable reason.
That infernal day has had such an enormous impact upon me as teacher and as an American that I am compelled to remind myself of.....something. The evil in the world. The good that everyday steps up to combat the evil. The good that fall. The fact that sometimes the best the good can do is choose the lesser of two evils. At times like these I often hear the echoes of the words the world was to have so soon forgot after Lincoln uttered them on a similar killing field in Pennsylvania, "It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work..."
The cynic in me wonders if the passengers of have not been idolized as self-sacrificing heroes by propagandists with lower motives. I question whether it is appropriate to view such a movie in the same theater that is showing The Benchwarmers, a movie that is, if their trailers are accurate, about goofy looking people being struck in sensitive places with hard objects. I do not foresee myself purchasing popcorn or a Coke this afternoon. It would be too much like munching on Goobers at a funeral.
Sometimes we must bare witness to that which we do not enjoy. There is nothing noble or heroic in this; there is only necessity.
Peace
26 April 2006
Beans, Beans...
From CNN.com: "Scientists find secret to gas-free beans."
Two questions:
1. Will they still be good for your heart?
2. Could this reduce the emission of greenhouse gasses and save us from coming catastrophe of global warning?
Until these questions are answered, the world shall hold its collective breath.
Peace
Two questions:
1. Will they still be good for your heart?
2. Could this reduce the emission of greenhouse gasses and save us from coming catastrophe of global warning?
Until these questions are answered, the world shall hold its collective breath.
Peace
25 April 2006
Ya'll gimme a Coke
Your Linguistic Profile: |
60% General American English |
30% Dixie |
5% Upper Midwestern |
5% Yankee |
0% Midwestern |
I spent my first five years of life in New York.
Peace
13 April 2006
Real Toys
Entering Chik-fil-a,the five year old boy asks, "This restaurant only has books?"
His father replies, "What did you say son?"
"Why don't they have real toys here?"
"Oh."
The boy's kid's meal included a learn Japanese CD inside.
Peace
His father replies, "What did you say son?"
"Why don't they have real toys here?"
"Oh."
The boy's kid's meal included a learn Japanese CD inside.
Peace
10 April 2006
Opps
Peace
08 April 2006
April Showers Bring 4am Severe Weather Sirens
We took the kids downstairs at 4am this morning when the severe thunderstorm warning for our county turned into a tornado warning and the civil defense sirens went off twice in fifteen minutes. We survived, our power flickered but never failed, and the only harm was our three-year old's desire to stay up and watch a "movie". Apparently, Gene Norman and Stormtracker46 are compelling viewing for a three-year old. The morning news reports that a possible small tornado hit a just few miles south of here with some damage and no injuries. I don't like 4am storms. I hope it did not get The Rib Ranch...
Peace
Update: The strom that hit south of us has been confirmed by the NWS as either a F-0 or F-1 tornado.
Peace
Update: The strom that hit south of us has been confirmed by the NWS as either a F-0 or F-1 tornado.
06 April 2006
Rib Ranch: I'll Have a Half Rack of Human
I have at last emerged from a pollen-induced haze after four days of misery that the strongest antihistamines could not relieve. It has not been the best of spring breaks so far. Today I was able to get out and do my part for plant procreation by stirring up billions of particles of pollen with my lawnmower. The family came out afterwards and frolicked in the fog. My wife took some pictures and the children ran from bees (everything that moves is a bee to my three-year old girl).
At some point we realized that dinnertime was rapidly approaching and the subject of barbecue came up. This is something of sore point with us. Our favorite barbecue joint of all time went hogbelly-up about three and half years ago. Its name was Bucky's. It had become our Christmas Eve-Eve tradition to dine at Bucky's. A plate of chopped BBQ beef in a fine red sauce with a side of fries, a slab of butter-soaked Texas toast, and a tall glass of sweet tea was a delicious treat for us and our cardiologist. I understand that some people are of the strong opinion that beef is not true barbecue and that, "If it doesn't squeal it ain't real." I can't really argue the point, but my BBQ choices have always been limited by the gastronomical demands of my tender stomach. I shall leave it at that.
My wife suggested trying The Rib Ranch, a place just down the road from us that has been around since 1983. Some odd premonition had been keeping us from trying it out for the seven years that we have lived at our present address. The inclusion of "rib" in their name also put us off in that neither of us care for ribs. Part of it was, no doubt, the fear of being burned again. We had tried out a place called PorkBellies or something like that, a year or so after Bucky's closed and were sorely disappointed. Indeed, it went out of business last year. It was just too soon.
Today our period of mourning must have been over, and we went to the The Rib Ranch. T-shirts worn by the servers let us know that the servers who work there are called "ranch hands." Kat, our very own ranch hand, was very good and was not stingy with the sweat tea. The BBQ beef was excellent and the sweet tea was perfect. We have found our new Bucky's.
The decor is typical BBQ kitsch...rustic signs, tools, animal heads, stuffed fish, maps of Texas, etc. Bucky's never had that; it only had a huge wall painted with a mountain scene mural. My five-year-old boy was intrigued to find us under the stuffed head of a moose (it was a bull).
He took this opportunity to pick up a conversation he'd had with his mother at the supermarket deli counter. He had asked what meat was. His mother had told him that meat came from animals. He then asked if we eat human meat. His mother told him no, he was quiet, and his mother assumed that he would bring it up again in couple days or a couple of months.
After I explained that the moose was a bull and was real but dead, the children insisted upon an explanation of taxidermy. As the meal went on, my son continued to point out the other dead animals, "I see a dead rabbit", "I see a dead fish", "I see a dead chicken". This last one prompted a debate between my wife and me over whether it was a pheasant or a chicken. My wife won the debate and explained to the kids that her family used to keep chickens and eat them. My son wondered if chickens bit and if she has chickens in her stomach. We avoided an in-depth discussion of the workings of the digestive system when he asked if his chicken fingers were real chicken. Told that they were indeed real chicken, he said, "Cool" and tore into his tenders with the new found relish of a carnivore.
Now we were halfway through our meal and were getting intellectually exhausted. We had to explain that the flying pig was a model and not a real pig. I prayed that he wouldn't notice the Jack-a-lope or the armadillo drinking the beer. Then he pointed out something disturbing in its implications, "I see a dead human!" He said this a bit too loud for comfort, but we patiently explained that the life-size cowgirl mannequin was neither dead nor human. I think we have him convinced that we don't eat human even though we eat just about everything else hanging off of the walls.
The check came; we handed over our well-worn Visa and gathered up our copious leftovers (another plus). He took a last look at the bull. To no one in particular he said softly, "They must have cut its head off."
Peace
Fiorinda helped in recreating the details of our evening and with the writing of this post. Any errors are my own.
At some point we realized that dinnertime was rapidly approaching and the subject of barbecue came up. This is something of sore point with us. Our favorite barbecue joint of all time went hogbelly-up about three and half years ago. Its name was Bucky's. It had become our Christmas Eve-Eve tradition to dine at Bucky's. A plate of chopped BBQ beef in a fine red sauce with a side of fries, a slab of butter-soaked Texas toast, and a tall glass of sweet tea was a delicious treat for us and our cardiologist. I understand that some people are of the strong opinion that beef is not true barbecue and that, "If it doesn't squeal it ain't real." I can't really argue the point, but my BBQ choices have always been limited by the gastronomical demands of my tender stomach. I shall leave it at that.
My wife suggested trying The Rib Ranch, a place just down the road from us that has been around since 1983. Some odd premonition had been keeping us from trying it out for the seven years that we have lived at our present address. The inclusion of "rib" in their name also put us off in that neither of us care for ribs. Part of it was, no doubt, the fear of being burned again. We had tried out a place called PorkBellies or something like that, a year or so after Bucky's closed and were sorely disappointed. Indeed, it went out of business last year. It was just too soon.
Today our period of mourning must have been over, and we went to the The Rib Ranch. T-shirts worn by the servers let us know that the servers who work there are called "ranch hands." Kat, our very own ranch hand, was very good and was not stingy with the sweat tea. The BBQ beef was excellent and the sweet tea was perfect. We have found our new Bucky's.
The decor is typical BBQ kitsch...rustic signs, tools, animal heads, stuffed fish, maps of Texas, etc. Bucky's never had that; it only had a huge wall painted with a mountain scene mural. My five-year-old boy was intrigued to find us under the stuffed head of a moose (it was a bull).
He took this opportunity to pick up a conversation he'd had with his mother at the supermarket deli counter. He had asked what meat was. His mother had told him that meat came from animals. He then asked if we eat human meat. His mother told him no, he was quiet, and his mother assumed that he would bring it up again in couple days or a couple of months.
After I explained that the moose was a bull and was real but dead, the children insisted upon an explanation of taxidermy. As the meal went on, my son continued to point out the other dead animals, "I see a dead rabbit", "I see a dead fish", "I see a dead chicken". This last one prompted a debate between my wife and me over whether it was a pheasant or a chicken. My wife won the debate and explained to the kids that her family used to keep chickens and eat them. My son wondered if chickens bit and if she has chickens in her stomach. We avoided an in-depth discussion of the workings of the digestive system when he asked if his chicken fingers were real chicken. Told that they were indeed real chicken, he said, "Cool" and tore into his tenders with the new found relish of a carnivore.
Now we were halfway through our meal and were getting intellectually exhausted. We had to explain that the flying pig was a model and not a real pig. I prayed that he wouldn't notice the Jack-a-lope or the armadillo drinking the beer. Then he pointed out something disturbing in its implications, "I see a dead human!" He said this a bit too loud for comfort, but we patiently explained that the life-size cowgirl mannequin was neither dead nor human. I think we have him convinced that we don't eat human even though we eat just about everything else hanging off of the walls.
The check came; we handed over our well-worn Visa and gathered up our copious leftovers (another plus). He took a last look at the bull. To no one in particular he said softly, "They must have cut its head off."
Peace
Fiorinda helped in recreating the details of our evening and with the writing of this post. Any errors are my own.
05 April 2006
Quote of the week: "If a child is picking up feces, he needs counseling"
Another thing that makes me proud to be an Atlantan: Atlanta is becoming the sex capital of the nation. See MSNBC Sex tourism thriving in U.S. Bible Belt. At least they didn't make the title "Sex tourism hitting below US Bible Belt"?
Another thing that makes me proud to be a teacher. A teacher uses a 40 mm shell to try to kill a bug on his desk. See CNN Exploding paperweight costs teacher his hand. The article does not mention the condition of the bug. Almost certainly a history teacher.
Endangering the welfare of a child: See WNYT Teacher charged for giving student 'wedgie'.
What's wrong with education in America? From "Students want cops in classes" Chicago Sun-Times:
Chicago Teachers Union President Marilyn Stewart fears turning Kennedy into a "police state.'' Stewart said CPS needs to attack the root cause by offering more social services to students and adding counselors. High school counselors now serve as many as 350 students each. "If a child is picking up feces, he needs counseling,'' she said. (emphasis mine)
According to the article, a child was not picking up feces, a group of students attacked another student with feces. I am sure counseling is just what these students need. Could it be that hiring security officers won't add to the take of the union, but new, due-paying counselors would add to the union's coffers?
Peace
Another thing that makes me proud to be a teacher. A teacher uses a 40 mm shell to try to kill a bug on his desk. See CNN Exploding paperweight costs teacher his hand. The article does not mention the condition of the bug. Almost certainly a history teacher.
Endangering the welfare of a child: See WNYT Teacher charged for giving student 'wedgie'.
What's wrong with education in America? From "Students want cops in classes" Chicago Sun-Times:
Chicago Teachers Union President Marilyn Stewart fears turning Kennedy into a "police state.'' Stewart said CPS needs to attack the root cause by offering more social services to students and adding counselors. High school counselors now serve as many as 350 students each. "If a child is picking up feces, he needs counseling,'' she said. (emphasis mine)
According to the article, a child was not picking up feces, a group of students attacked another student with feces. I am sure counseling is just what these students need. Could it be that hiring security officers won't add to the take of the union, but new, due-paying counselors would add to the union's coffers?
Peace
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