Does Jesse James Know Who He Is?

The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford is a film I did not get a chance to write about when it came out last autumn, though I did put it #8 on my “best of 2007” list. I recently saw it on DVD again, however, and have been struck anew by the film’s surprising beauty, mystery, and psychological resonances.

Beyond its artistic excellence (including some really interesting photographic effects, beautiful music, etc), Assassination is a film that captures some pretty complicated truths about humanity and identity.

The “larger-than-life” title hints that this film is less about a real event (though it is a true story) than it is about a mythology about a larger-than-life man and his untimely demise. This is not a biopic of Jesse James, and as such we never really get close to understanding him as a person as much as a symbolic icon. The brilliantly cast Brad Pitt (himself a larger-than-life icon) recognizes this, providing his character scant few moments of intelligible humanity. What we do see of Jesse James the man is someone who is very much intrigued by his own cultural mystique. He’s acting the part that has been written by pop-culture and legend; he’s both an observer and the main attraction in the abstracted spectacle that is “Jesse James.”

Fittingly, much of Pitt’s performance consists of iconic poses and postures: standing gallantly amid the windswept plains; sitting throne-like in an Edenic yard with snakes writhing around his forearms; enshrouded in mystical steam and darkness as a train approaches (to be robbed). He’s the consummate rebel hero—an unbeatable bandit who, in the end, seems to orchestrate even the circumstances of his own assassination.

Indeed, the scene in which Robert Ford (heartbreakingly portrayed by Casey Affleck) shoots Jesse James is so thoroughly blocked and theatrical that we can’t help but wonder if James had this moment planned out his whole life. Without giving too much away (it’s a brilliant scene), I’ll just say that the sequence feels like the ultimate convergence between the “real story” and the “mythology”—in which James and Ford fully transition from people to characters, from humans living to actors performing. And this is not a knock on the verisimilitude of the film; on the contrary, I suspect that this climactic sense of artifice/performed mythology was just what writer/director Andrew Dominik intended.

The point is further made in the subsequent “one year later” sequence, in which Robert Ford is now a widely-known actor in New York, “performing” his legendary assassination on stage every night for star struck audiences. Here, in ghostly makeup and stage light, Ford shoots blanks and “Jesse” is just an actor who dramatically “dies” for a gasping audience. It’s a simulation of an event that, in reality, was a simulation in it’s own right.

Among other things, Assassination is a film that understands the performative aspects of identity. In a sense, we are all actors—performing and projecting versions of our selves to fit whatever circumstance, stage, or audience we are in. Like Jesse James we all have images and public “selves” to live up to (though to a less grandiose extent for most of us). It is an exhausting and seemingly unavoidable practice of everyday social interaction—the performance of a suitable self in social context.

Sociologist Erving Goffman touched on these issues in his 1959 book The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life, in which he wrote:

“The impression of reality fostered by a performance is a delicate, fragile thing that can be shattered by very minor mishaps. The expressive coherence that is required in performances points out a crucial discrepancy between our all-too-human-selves and our socialized selves. As human beings we are presumably creatures of variable impulse with moods and energies that change from one moment to the next. As characters for an audience, however, we must not be subject to ups and downs”

This is the burden of identity—the weight of having to maintain a “front,” manage impressions, and live up to perceptions and standards and (in Jesse James’ case) legends that we ourselves foster—even while we are humans with far more complexities and contradictions than one sellable “self” could assume.

But that is the very justification for why we must perform. We are far too complex to be understood by others (let alone ourselves) if not by way of crafting a character for every given context. Of course we can only take the theater metaphor so far, but I think Goffman is perceptive when he says that “All the world is not, of course, a stage, but the crucial ways in which it isn’t are not easy to specify.”

Top Down Populism

I’ve been intrigued of late by a seemingly obvious and pervasive contradiction within American culture—the notion of “grassroots” or “populist” activity as something that can be not only leveraged but orchestrated from above by powerful groups seeking the “consensus” approval or authentic legitimacy that comes when something is done “by the people.” Politicians recognize the importance of tapping into populism (see how many times each of the presidential candidates’ websites name-drop the word “grassroots”), as do media moguls (who pay bloggers to start a buzz on the web to create “bottom up marketing”) and television executives (who, in reality shows like American Idol, cede “control” to the audience to portray themselves as “America’s show”).

Indeed, populism has always been a hallmark of America, a nation birthed out of a direct opposition to the elitism, stratified wealth, and top-down imperialism of 18th century Europe. But the very point of populism was that it not be coopted by the elites who—from their perches of power in Washington or Madison Avenue—sought to use “the people’s voice” as just another way to sell their products, their messages, their agendas.

So how can we take top-down populism seriously? After all, a “grassroots” movement is, by definition and necessarily, bottom-up. This is not to say it doesn’t take leadership on the grassroots level to get the ball rolling with any momentous movement or change. Of course it does. But something ceases to be authentically grassroots when the ideas or origins of a movement come not from the “people” or “populace” but are fed from above by campaign strategists, teachers, or other institutional arms of the hegemony.

Briefly, here are two examples I’ve encountered recently that illustrate my point:

1) I sit on a board at UCLA that oversees all student media (newspapers, magazines, yearbook, etc) and at our last meeting a few board members proposed a revitalization plan for several of the floundering niche magazines on campus. These magazines (for groups like African American students, Muslims, Latinos, Asian-Americans, etc) were quite popular in the mid to late 90s at UCLA, but for whatever reason have recently fallen on apathetic ears. Students are simply not as interested in this sort of community-based “progressive” journalism anymore. The proposed “revitalization” plan calls for the formation of an “alternative/underground journalism training program” wherein students are taught how to organize on the street level and produce community-specific journalism that is hopefully oppositional, subversive, muckraking and important. Sounds good, but we can easily see the contradiction here. How do we teach community-level, grassroots activist journalism? If the students are inclined to do it, they will on their own. If not, why should we (and how can we) force it?

2) I went to a conference at USC’s School of Cinematic Arts this weekend on the topic of DIY Video (i.e. kids with cameras and editing equipment who make their own films that wind up on YouTube). A panel of ridiculously utopian media theorists (Henry Jenkins, Howard Rheingold, Joi Ito, Yochai Benkler, John Seely Brown) went on and on about the “revolutionary” effects on culture that this sort of democratized video production might hold. They kept repeating that we (read: educated, old, and liberal) should create programs of “visual media literary” wherein young, poor, minority students would be given the tools (cameras, computers, etc) and training to visually express and distribute (via YouTube or elsewhere) the opinions they are otherwise never given platform to convey. The idea is that these muted voices will be enabled to speak and speak out against the forces that control and oppress them. The goal of the old rich benefactors who finance these “media literacy” initiatives is, of course, that some brilliant high schooler with a laptop will create the next great anti-establishment “stick it to the man” expose. But what happens if all the kids want to do is film Jackass stunts?

Ultimately, the problem both of these groups must solve is the problem of caring. How do we get young people (or anyone, really) to care enough about an issue to organize and build grassroots momentum for change? It’s a serious problem. But it can’t be solved by cloying, force-fed, top-down manipulation.

Perhaps the increased proliferation of top-down, taught populism is simply a sign that the populace doesn’t know what or who it is (or should be). Perhaps grassroots activity today—even with the ultimate grassroots tool (or, perhaps, hindrance) of the Internet—cannot exist without the orchestration and steering of someone who actually has a message or idea we can get excited about. In lieu of having little we are organically excited about (or perhaps in lieu of the overwhelming glut of potential things to get excited about), we need direction.

I’d like to think that a “mass” or “populace” exists outside the realm of top-down influence. I’d like to think that the people are capable of banding together and revolutionizing systems and societies, Marx style. But I think that Marx underestimated the extent to which—as we see today—the “people” are quietly (and perhaps unknowingly) going about the business of the powers that be, rather than overthrowing them. Indeed, I think Gramsci’s view of the world is more practical—the notion that control is wielded not through coercion but ideology, that subjugation can be framed as a positive, that we willingly participate in the subtle reinforcement of dominant values.

Of course this is all very pessimistic, and any Gramscian must hold on to the hope that little moments of personal rebellion are possible—that hegemonic forces can be thwarted by means of grassroots revolution. But it is definitely, and increasingly, an uphill battle.

Why I Love Ash Wednesday

Today is Ash Wednesday, and it is one of my favorite days of the year. I never really celebrated this beautiful day growing up… which is a shame. As the first day of Lent—the 40 day period of repentance, renewal and reflection in advance of Easter—Ash Wednesday provides a perfect chance to quiet oneself and get in the proper penitential mode for the Lenten season.

At my church and at many churches worldwide today, Christians will come together for worship, prayer, and the imposition of ashes. This part I love. An ash-marked cross on one’s forehead is a very strange thing to see (especially in a town as vain and airbrushed as L.A.), but it is beautiful. What a fantastic symbol of what Lent is all about: our coming into a focused, reverential meditation upon and solidarity with the suffering of Christ.

Ashes are a material of decay and death, but they also allude to new life. After a forest fire, for example, the ashes provide nutrients for the rebirth of a new generation of trees. And here it all comes together: “Lent” is derived from the Middle English “lente” which means “spring” or “springtime.” Though it comes early this year and spring feels miles away, Ash Wednesday is our first glimpse of that eternal newness and redemption just beyond the horizon.

I love Ash Wednesday for the way that it symbolizes—so concisely—what it means to be a Christian. It’s not about being beautiful or powerful or triumphant; it’s about being scarred and humbled and sacrificial. But it’s not like this is a defeatist exercise in self-flagellation or something. No, on the contrary, to “give up” or “sacrifice” in the name of Christ is (or should be) the height of our joy. We should strive to be like Christ, “who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame…" (Hebrews 12:2). For the joy set before him… That should be why we endure suffering and embrace self-denial. It’s paradoxical and mysterious and counterintuitive—certainly. But when I feel those cold ashes spread across my forehead, it all makes some sort of wonderful sense.

Paul Tillich once said that “man’s ultimate concern must be expressed symbolically, because symbolic language alone is able to express the ultimate.” And I think in Christian sacraments and rituals (like communion, baptism, or the imposition of ashes), we can see how true this is. Ash Wednesday is more than just a day that follows Mardi Gras and kicks off the Christian period of Lent. It’s a symbol that exists within and yet points beyond the materiality and ephemera of this place and this time to the transcendent and restorative oneness of the “ultimate concern” which is God Himself.

Politics of Spectacle

I was watching something on Fox this week and was struck by some of the ads I saw for the Super Bowl. The ads were advertising that a full day of coverage on Super Sunday would begin with a morning of Fox News political coverage on “the other big contest” going on: the presidential election. Following this would be the main event: the Patriots vs. Giants. The ad seemed to suggest that together it was a day of utter and extreme Americanisms: our “two favorite pastimes: sports and politics.” Pull up a chair, get some beer and pizza, and revel in the spectacles of debate and conflict and fighting and smash-em-up democracy!

There are many things wrong with this framing discourse of “Super Sunday” (not least of which is the obvious untruth that Americans care as much about politics as we do about sports!), but the thing that most disturbs me is this equivocation of our electoral process with something as airy and insignificant and superfluous as the Super Bowl. Are we seriously trying to say that the current presidential election is mass entertainment? A spectacle?

Unfortunately, this is not really a new trend. For decades now, American media have been turning politics into a spectacle—a three ring circus of strategy, intrigue, danger, rousing victories and epic defeats. Turn on cable news on any given night and you get some grade-A melodrama posing as political discourse.

Exhibit A of the spectacle-ization of American politics happened on Thursday night in (the very appropriate location of) Hollywood. It was the Democratic debate on CNN—live from the Kodak theater (aka the home of the Oscars and nexus of all that Hollywood represents). Did anyone watch this debate? First of all, it was hardly a debate. Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton were as chummy as any two competing politicians have ever been. There was very little actual debate and even less clarification for the voters.

But it was compelling TV! It was a spectacle! And boy did the stars turn out in force to drive home that point… Every time the camera panned to the audience it focused on another celebrity’s face. Liberal stalwarts Steven Spielberg and Rob Reiner were there, along with familiar faces like Diane Keaton (in her Charlie Chaplin/Annie Hall getup), Stevie Wonder (stood up and cheered a lot), and Pierce Brosnan (wait—can he even vote? Isn’t he British?). But what can explain the presence of Brandy? Or Topher Grace? Or the guy who plays Andy on The Office? What are they doing here? To give CNN the glitz and glamour that Anderson Cooper and Angelina Jolie have tried so hard to achieve?

In any case, it was funny to watch the reaction shots of various B celebrities whenever Obama or Clinton said something about how ridiculously awful George W. Bush has been. It’s almost a Pavlovian instinct for many of them, I think: “Bush ruins everything”=clap and cheer! (because who wants to cheer for boring and complex solutions to issues like healthcare and social security?). It’s much more fun and gleefully vague to “cheer for change”!

Indeed. What fun this all is! There should be an “Election 2008” reality show or something. Ryan Seacrest could host it and every night millions could call in and vote on how well each candidate looked and performed during whatever debate or speech had just happened. It would be a ratings hit for whatever channel it was on, and doubtless way more people would get “excited” about our electoral process (as long as we could text in our vote). And then perhaps one day ads during Super Tuesday will sell for just as much as on Super Sunday. A Super Week of consumerist pop-hedonism/politics! Totally win win.

Jacob Wants Us Lost

I don't know what is going on on Lost (I never really have), but I do know that it is still the most consistently thought-provoking show on television. And the season four premiere last night did not disappoint.

What is most compelling right now (and, to an extent, what has been the most compelling thing about the show since day one) is the way Lost plays with time. For the first three seasons each episode featured a flashback where the mysteries of the shows were broadened and the characters deepened. But now it appears that this season (and I suspect the rest of the seasons) will feature flashforwards--glimpses of the "after rescue" future of Jack, Kate, Hurley, and whoever else makes it off the island. But this raises the question: is this "future" actually the "present"? Is the island in some alternative space-time-continuum? Does what we do now really change our path for the future?

Indeed, the show has a very complicated fixation on time and fate. The whole Desmond deja-vu storyline, for example, has always been one of the most intriguing threads of the Lost web. I really hope the writers have a grasp on all of it and can tie it together semi-coherently as the final few seasons play out.

In the meantime, season four is raising the deliciously provocative question of whether or not our beloved castaways are better off lost or found? Is it really freedom to be "in control" of one's own life? Or are we better off at the mercy of "others"--both seen and unseen? From the looks of it, Lost could quickly become the 21st century version of The Matrix: a sci-fi pop treatise on fate, free will, and the nature of reality.

I'm especially intrigued by this "Jacob" character--the ghost-like, (mostly) invisible force that lives on the island and seemingly calls all the shots. Is he meant to represent some Judeo-Christian deity? Is he a loving or malevolent being? On freeze-frame Jacob looks faintly like Jack's dad, Christian Shepherd (can someone say Jesus!), which is another piece to the puzzle. In any case (Spoiler alert!), I suspect that when Hurley calls out to Jack and says something like "I think he wants us back!" he is referring to Jacob--obviously the source of Hurley's apparent mental asylum issues...

Whether or not this theory is correct (it probably isn't), we can all be happy to have a watercooler show back on TV which we can all wildly theorize about!

In lieu of a real posting…

Do you ever have those moments when your mind is so utterly frenzied and unsettled and all-over-the-place that you couldn’t possibly articulate a coherent thought? Well I had a moment like that last night, and it was kind of wonderful.

I was sitting in church (the place I usually get all my blog post ideas… even about things that have nothing to do with church) and found myself in one of those totally involuntary mental overdrive moments. I tried and tried to think of a good topic to think and then write about, but too much else was in my mind. So in lieu of a real posting, I’ll just do what I tell my English 3 writing students at UCLA to do: freewrite.

So it’s been ridiculously rainy in L.A. all weekend. For like five days straight now. And cold. Tonight as I drove to church and the sun was setting, the clouds were ominous and I even saw lightning and what looked like a funnel cloud. Things were whirling and wispy and foggy and alive…

At church the sermon had something to do with Adam and Eve: the knowledge of good and evil, the tree, the serpent, the whole shebang. There was a good point about Othello and Desdemona (and Iago as the serpent)… and then there was some point about Martin Buber (who I love). He’s a Jewish theologian and not typically cited in protestant settings, but his I-It / I-Thou ideas are brilliant. Here’s one of my favorite Martin Buber quotes: “Spirit is not in the I but between I and You. It is not like the blood that circulates in you but like the air in which you breathe. Man lives in the spirit when he is able to respond to his You.”

The “You” is God I think, or perhaps the bit of God that we can touch and feel and “breathe,” as Buber writes.And I think that the “You moments” are the key to some sort of Joy. Buber calls these moments “queer lyric-dramatic episodes”—which reminds me of Lost in Translation or Once or any of a number of Richard Linklater films.

But this is but one of the many things bouncing around my head during church. I was also thinking about the millions of things I have to do this week, and then self-consciously thinking about how unholy it was to be thinking about such trifles in a time of worship. And then all of a sudden I became totally mesmerized by the word “Jesus” that was up on the screen during some mediocre Matt Redman worship song.

Jesus. How odd that this massive collection of wealthy white people is passionately singing about a Jewish guy named “Jesus.” J-E-S-U-S. Have you ever taken a step back from words like that? It’s a trip.

But then there was something in the sermon about how we should never ask the question: Is God really a loving Being? After all, Satan tried to get Eve to question what she thought about God… and look how that turned out. Hmm… I don’t know. I’m not sure that questioning God’s relative benevolence or malevolence is even a question I’m qualified to ask. Isn’t God beyond those categories? Aren’t those just words, anyway? Oh, deconstructionism. Death to Derrida (who, incidentally, is already dead).

In the end, the chaos in my brain gave way to a strange sort of epiphany. Most epiphanies, I think, might also be called “moments of clarity,” but in this case it was the opposite of clarity. But it was clarity, in a sense, because for a brief flutter of a moment I saw—or imagined—some large-scale meta connection in my life and the world and the weather and the cross. In and through the fragments and puzzles pieces of my schizophrenic cognition a truth revealed itself, though I couldn’t tell you what it was exactly. It was like a Picasso or Kandinsky painting or something—a thoroughly messy tapestry of colors and lines and ideas that somehow, inexplicably, coheres.You might not “get it” in the sense that you think you should, but it nevertheless brings you into a mysterious communion that transcends labels and categories and rationality. 

My Oscar Nominations

So the Oscar nominations came out yesterday, and you can view them here. Now notwithstanding the fact that the ceremony might not actually happen this year, the Academy Awards are still the most prestigious, desired trophy in Hollywood. Unfortunately the Academy tends to get things right only about half the time with who they nominate and award... And this year is no different. The following is how I would have narrowed the field of nominees for the eight major categories:

Best Actor:Daniel Day Lewis, There Will Be Blood Viggo Mortenson, Eastern Promises Ryan Gosling, Lars and the Real Girl Emile Hirsch, Into the Wild Christian Bale, Rescue Dawn

Best Actress Julie Christie, Away From Her Marion Cotillard, La Vie En Rose Keri Russell, Waitress Amy Adams, Enchanted Laura Linney, Jindabyne

Best Supporting Actor Hal Holbrook, Into the Wild Casey Affleck, The Assassination of Jesse James… John Carroll Lynch, Zodiac Steve Zahn, Rescue Dawn Paul Schneider, Lars and the Real Girl

Best Supporting ActressCate Blanchett, I’m Not There Amy Ryan, Gone Baby Gone Catherine Keener, Into the Wild Tilda Swinton, Michael Clayton Charlotte Gainsbourgh, I’m Not There

Best Director David Fincher, Zodiac Paul Thomas Anderson, There Will Be Blood Joel and Ethan Coen, No Country for Old Men Todd Haynes, I’m Not There Richard Kelly, Southland Tales

Best PictureInto the Wild Zodiac There Will Be Blood No Country for Old Men I’m Not There

Best Original ScreenplayJuno Lars and the Real Girl I’m Not There The Savages Once

Best Adapted ScreenplayNo Country For Old Men Zodiac There Will Be Blood The Diving Bell and the Butterfly Into the Wild

Godzilla for the YouTube Age

There is something really frightening about Cloverfield, and I don’t think it has much to do with the giant lizard-esque monster that destroys Manhattan. To be sure, Cloverfield is a top-notch thriller/horror/disaster/monster movie. It’s Godzilla meets Blair Witch meets 9/11 with some Independence Day mixed in. Most of all it’s a thoroughly 21st-century movie. This is the first classic of the YouTube era: a film that references YouTube in subject, style, and marketing. Which brings me to the “really frightening” thing about this movie. Why does it feel so enticingly real?

For a movie that is about a mutant beast that sheds bug-like minions all over midtown Manhattan, you’d think it’d be a fairly easy film to write off as fanciful popcorn bombast. But I was totally engrossed in the film in a way that goes beyond “suspension of disbelief for the sake of fun.” I got sucked in and felt—against all my mechanisms of logic—that this might actually happen. But how in the world could I think that?

Perhaps it is the same reason why scores of office workers, fratboys, and otherwise bored computer users can be so utterly enthralled by “amateur” videos on YouTube. Whether it’s a tasing caught on cellphone camera or a safari-cam capturing a three-way battle between lions, buffalo and crocodiles (this was viewed more than 24 millions times), we are totally in love with the “stumbled upon” aesthetic of “stuff Hollywood can’t make up.”

Thus, even when what we see on screen is stuff Hollywood can, and often does, make up (destructive monsters in Manhattan), the fact that it is seen through a trustworthy “one of us” lends the whole thing a compelling layer of authenticity. Even if we know deep down that this is a fake film shot just like other fiction films, we still feel it to be more believable (or at least I did).

The guy behind the camcorder in this film is a hapless fratguy named “Hud,” clueless about most things but, interestingly, completely devoted to documenting everything that goes on (because “people will want to know how it all went down”). Maybe it’s instinct. Maybe it’s narcissism. Maybe he’s nervous and needs something to do. But what I really think it is—and what really gives this film a creepy resonance—is that Hud thinks his camera can shield himself from the reality of the situation. As long as the camera is rolling, Hud is directing a dramatic story that is “just a movie” (he even composes shots and “directs” emotional dialogue scenes like a pro might). As the chaotic events unfold all around him and his friends, everyone feels like they are in a movie. Their first instinct is to make it so.

As the decapitated head of Lady Liberty crashes into a crowd of confused New Yorkers standing out in the street… everyone does what we all are now conditioned to do: take cell phone pictures. Some horrific stuff is going down… but it might make the news if we get a good picture.

Cloverfield is very 9/11-inspired, not just in the NYC disaster sort of way, but in the way the horror feels so very mediated. Some of the most striking imagery of the film heavily references 9/11, especially the 9/11 as seen on TV or through the amateur lenses of people running on the streets. One scene in particular—of victims fleeing a wall of ash after a tall building collapses—is a direct quote of the now famous 9/11 footage from the Naudet brothers (the French filmmakers who happened to have a camera rolling when the first plane hit the North Tower… and kept it rolling for the rest of the day). At other points in Cloverfield there are surreal moments when looters or dazed bystanders crowd around TVs to watch the live news coverage of the mayhem happening just blocks away. Perhaps it is a comfort to see the monster framed in a 42 inch plasma screen—even while the ground rumbles and screams echo throughout the city.

Cloverfield packs a wallop, in part because it takes our media-obsessed curiosity and slaps it in our face. We are increasingly prone to gawk, to see what the fuss is about, to be “in on” whatever gruesome or unlikely anomaly is out there to be recorded. This is why Cloverfield’s cryptic “what is this about” marketing campaign worked so well. We have to know. We have to look. We must be a witness. People will want to see how it all went down... It's entertainment.

The Simple Way of Shane Claiborne

It was quite the sight to see Shane Claiborne speak at my church Tuesday night. Here’s a guy wearing a homemade monk’s robe, bandana and dreadlocks (his everywhere outfit), standing on the stage of Bel Air Presbyterian Church. That’s Bel Air… as in Fresh Prince. We are a wealthy, comfortable church, looking majestically over the Valley from our pristine perch atop the Hollywood Hills. It’s not a church Shane Claiborne probably feels that comfortable in… but that’s exactly why he needed to be there—to ruffle our feathers.

As Claiborne likes to say, his message (i.e. the message of Jesus) is meant to comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable. And it certainly did that Tuesday night.

Speaking to a crowd of about five or six hundred young people (the combined junior high, high school, college, and young adult ministries at the church), Claiborne recounted his conversion from the Christianity of his youth (alter calls, chubby bunny youth group games, televangelists) to the “simple way” that he now follows. He’s been written up in Christianity Today under the headline “The New Monasticism," portrayed as the leading edge of a new movement of younger evangelicals committed to re-visioning the gospel through the eyes of the poor. Another one of his quips falls along these lines: “Christianity is not about gaining better vision” (i.e. faith healers/prosperity gospel), “but seeing with new eyes.”

Claiborne is a radical guy, and if he wasn’t so earnest and joyful and rhetorically sincere, his radical ideas might be easily written off. Obviously not everyone can (or should) sell everything and start a commune on the north side of Philadelphia (as Claiborne did). Not everyone can take off ten weeks to work alongside Mother Theresa in Calcutta (as Claiborne did). And few have the guts to live and work with maimed children in Baghdad while a war is going on outside (as Claiborne did). But as unthinkable as it all sounds on paper for us practical-minded suburbanites, Claiborne makes it sound not only doable, but desirable.

Claiborne is fashioning a new kind of Christian—in the lineage of Dorothy Day and Mother Theresa—that is radically different than the sort of deep-pockets, high-powered political machine that gets all the headlines these days. This is a Christianity uninterested in all forms of power except that of love… and community in Christ. Though it’s maybe not perfect as an all-encompassing rhetoric of new-school Christianity, it’s definitely provocative, inspiring, and quietly revolutionary.

The Deep/Wide Divide

I wrote an article two years ago this week for Relevant magazine entitled “Deep and/or Wide.” In the article I explored the tensions between depth and breadth that so characterize many of my chief frustrations in life. Reading it again recently I found that I resonate more than ever with the feelings I was exploring then. Now that I’m a graduate student, the tension between knowing a lot about everything and everything about one thing is never more pronounced. Sometimes I go crazy thinking about the sacrifices of knowledge that must be made in order to be an “academic.” We are encouraged to specialize, specialize, specialize… otherwise who will remember us? But even if it means I won’t “stand out” in the massive field of scholars, is it really worth forsaking a broad, multi-disciplinary approach to life? At some point I guess we all have to limit our selves and our interests to what is marketable… or at least what pays the bills. But that thought weighs heavy on my heart.

In any case, here are a few excerpts from what I wrote two years ago about deep and wide:

"Can we have both? Can the fountains of our lives flow both deep and wide? Perhaps someday, but the more I think about it the more I think it is a dream. Our world pulls us one way or the other. It’s almost impossible to be both deep and wide, and that leaves us with a decision.

The tension here is about methods of approaching the world. Do you aim to encounter things deeply, perhaps partaking of less in life but experiencing those few things for all they’re worth? Or do you go more for breadth and scope, searching and collecting as much of this enormous, wonderful world that you can, even if that means sacrificing depth for breadth?

My generation is a wide-seeking generation. The heavy-hearted weight and awareness of untouched beauty is extraordinarily strong in us. There are socio-economic reasons for our breadth-seeking as well: We feel lost or impotent if we don’t “keep up” with the trend-setting stamina of the merchants of cool. For these and other reasons, we’ve become the generation of accumulated triviality. We are pop-culture savvy, indie-music credible, aware of art, literature, global politics and history, but only to a superficial extent. We are the keepers of immense amounts of information … but all for what?

I’m beginning to rebel from this broad-minded accumulation mentality. I’m beginning to realize that it’s not a bad thing to not know “what’s hot now.” I’m beginning to relinquish my grasp on the reigns of pop culture. I don’t care that I’ve never heard half of the albums on Pitchfork’s Top 100 of 2005. I don’t want to be a frenzied, know-it-all, “one-step-ahead-of-you” hipster anymore. To the extent that I ever was one, it was a pretty annoying chore.

I want depth. I’ll still feign to be diverse and wide in my consumption of experience, but I’m fatigued and overwhelmed by too much of that. I want to pick a few things and dive in deeply. I want to wrestle with existence on the micro level—like Emily Dickinson, Vincent van Gogh or Yasujiro Ozu. It might not be easier—thinking deeply about something rarely is—but it will be more rewarding I think.

In any case, I’m pretty sure the whole deep vs. wide tension comes from the fact that we were created to live both ways. There will be fountains flowing deep and wide, someday, but for now there is not enough water to go around. If there’s rain in one place there’s a drought somewhere else. It’s the whole “divine discontent” thing, you know? We can only pick one direction, give it all we’ve got, and feel the lack of the roads untraversed."

There Will Be Blood

I’ve finally seen it, and yes, it is all it’s cracked up to be. There Will Be Blood is the best film of 2007.

Paul Thomas Anderson is certainly a distinctive auteur, but until now (with the exception of his first film, Hard Eight) he’s not really been my cup of tea. Yes Magnolia was a great film, but There Will Be Blood is something altogether greater.

It’s an artistic masterpiece on countless levels (cinematography, score, production design, sound design), but is not nearly as tidy and well-coifed as your typical period epic. This is a reckless, unsteady film that threatens to cave in on itself but never does. On the contrary, its gurgling oil, buzzing string music (by Radiohead’s Johnny Greenwood) and fire-and-brimstone foreboding push the film to its boundaries but never over the edge.

It’s a film that pulls us into a character and forces us to fester within him like no other film has done in years. Daniel Day Lewis is remarkable as the Citizen Kane-inspired Daniel Plainview—a man as full of ambition and greed and pain and pride as the country he’s meant to personify. He’s a self-made oil millionaire who doesn’t care much for anything but his own success, and will do anything (and I mean anything) to get to the top.

There Will Be Blood is about a lot of things, but perhaps the most interesting commentary it offers is an examination of America’s unique and at times unholy alliance between religion, politics, and capitalism. In the film Plainview clashes with a fiery young preacher, Eli Sunday (Paul Dano), who is the God opposite Plainview’s mammon. Or so it appears at first. Sunday does all he can to convert the backslidden, mucked-up soul of Plainview, but is it really about saving his soul or tempering his power and influence over the townsfolk? Plainview needs the church to gain legitimacy and trust so he can build oil pipelines and make millions. Sunday needs Plainview for his own purposes. They need each other, but the merger brings blood.

Though not a political film in the traditional sense, Blood nevertheless captures the blood-oil-Iraq-evangelicals-capitalism zeitgeist far better than the countless Lions for Lambs-type films have this year. It got me thinking about the presidential election, and how—like Plainview and his “conversion” to Sunday’s church—so many candidates are pandering to religion not out of spiritual need but material necessity. Like Plainview, it’s not that they necessarily want God on their side; they want God’s people—and the money and support that comes with them. This sort of melding of sacred and secular purposes, however, proves toxic for all involved.

There Will Be Blood is a stunning, thoroughly modern work of art that paints a stark picture of what happens when greedy capitalism and power-mongering is bedfellow with something so contrary as Christianity. As the title forebodes, the results—for all parties involved—will not be pretty.

Fearsome Facebook

Without a doubt, Facebook was this year’s Youtube. That is: a novel new Internet fad that in one year hit an explosive tipping point of ubiquity. Over the past few weeks it’s really became clear to me just how obsessive the Facebook craze is. Most of the people I know (between the ages of 10 and 30) are constantly on Facebook: checking their feed dozens of times a day, updating statuses, poking various people, seeking out new “friends,” and stalking persons they seek more information about.

This last use of Facebook—“stalking”—is perhaps the most disturbing function of the whole thing. Whenever anyone meets someone else or wants some more information about them (as a friend, significant other, employee, etc), Facebook is the perfect place to do a little surveillance. Who are this person’s friends? What activities and groups are they a part of? What kinds of pictures are they tagged in?

The problems with this sort of information-gathering on Facebook are obvious. The “person” represented on a Facebook profile is a highly constructed, constantly tweaked avatar. It is a painstakingly composed projection of a person, but not a person. But perhaps more problematic is the way that Facebook has come to stand in for traditional forms of interpersonal relationships. “Peeling away the onion” in relationship formation was formerly a delicate, imperfect, rocky road of physically present social penetration. With Facebook it has become an impersonal, easily-confused, mechanistic process with efficiency—not humanity—at its heart.

I recently took my Facebook disdain public in a year-end article for Relevant magazine in which I characterized Facebook as part of a disastrous digital-era trend toward meaningless, mechanistic communication. This is was I wrote:

At a time when our culture needs a primer on meaningful communication, new tech wonders and digital “advances” increasingly led us in the opposite direction (what I call “superfluous communication”) this year. Things like iPhones and the latest hands-free gadgets have created millions of meaningless “let me talk to someone via this fun device because I CAN” conversations worldwide in 2008. Add to this the irrevocable damage Facebook and its various counterparts have done to meaningful communication, and 2007 was a banner year for the tech-driven trivialization of communication.

Predictably, reactions in the comments section singled out my criticisms of Facebook (and yes, “irrevocable damage” is a harsh phrase). “Bryan” had this to say:

Facebook is not the problem. People who spend so much time on it are the ones with the problem. It's the people with the problem. Your argument is like someone claiming that they can't stop looking at porn due to the fact that it exists on the net. Don't wanna spend so much time on there? Then don't spend so much time on there.

What Bryan does here is frame my position on Facebook in terms of technological determinism—the notion that the nature of technology determines the human uses of it. I am not necessarily trying to argue this. What I am suggesting is that the consequences of Facebook—whether the fault is with the technology or the user—are serious… And seriously changing our very basic understandings of how humans relate to and connect with one another. Rather than blast Facebook as inherently evil, I simply want to raise a warning flag—because with every technological or cultural trend that rises and spreads so quickly, some caution is certainly warranted.

Primary Concern

It seems like this should have happened by now, but this Thursday (Jan 3) is the first actual vote in the presidential primary race. For months now (years, in the case of some), the candidates have been darting around America desperately seeking support and momentum for their campaigns. Of course, when I say “America,” I really mean Iowa, New Hampshire, South Carolina, and a handful of other states that have somehow secured the earliest caucuses and primaries. If you’re lucky enough (or unlucky enough, depending on your view) to be a resident in one of these states, congratulations: you have the power to speak for the rest of the country in choosing the nominees for Commander-in-Chief.

The Iowa Caucus has been the first major electoral step in the president-nominating process since 1972, transforming the state from humble cornfield country to the dominant locus of electioneering every four years. Whoever wins the Iowa Caucus (in which only a few hundred thousand people participate) automatically becomes the favorite to win the nomination, because, well, I’m not sure why…

Actually I do know why. The race for the president is increasingly a game of “predicting and projecting” winners and losers. And as soon as the media (and by extension the voting public) gets wind of who is or might be a “winner,” that candidate becomes the person to beat. For lack of anything else to influence one’s decision, voting for a perceived “winner” is increasingly the method of most voters.

So what’s so wrong with this “voting for a winner” method? Well, if you have a mind for strategy and pragmatism, then nothing. But if everyone is voting for a candidate because they think he/she has the best chance of winning and not necessarily because they view them as the superior candidate, then something has gone a bit haywire with the democratic process. We fool ourselves by thinking that a candidate’s ability to win an election has little to do with our personal attraction to them as an appealing candidate. It has everything to do with it.

If everyone voted with their gut for the candidate they really wanted to win (even if he or she were last in the straw polls or had little media coverage), then that candidate would have a chance to win the election. It’s like the “Spiral of Silence” theory of communication: When there is some perceived dominant opinion being offered (in this case, the media’s crowning of “top tier candidates”), those inclined against this view will typically keep their opposition silent. Thus, even if the majority of people are in the opposition camp, chances are their silence will spiral out of control, unquestioned (groupthink style).

Here’s the implication for this election and the primary system in general: Since the media is covering this thing like flies on roadkill, it is clear that who they focus on in their coverage (and subtly cast as the “frontrunner”) will be the perceived “winner” by the masses who are planning to vote. Thus, even if said voters secretly wish for candidate “underdog” to win, they will most likely view a vote for him/her as a waste. And no one wants to waste a vote. Instead, they will likely vote for candidate “frontrunner,” placing themselves within the consensus and boosting momentum for the person most likely to make a strong showing in the national race. Do you see how this goes counter to the whole purpose of democracy?

The primary system is concerning to me, not because I don’t think states like Iowa or New Hampshire are unthinking anomalies that don’t represent the country as a whole, but because they have so much power to decide the winners and losers. In the 2000 election, George W. Bush won the Iowa Caucus and South Carolina primary handily, forcing all the other Republican candidates out the race by February (with the exception of John McCain and Alan Keyes). In 2004 on the Democratic side, Howard Dean had all the momentum going into the Iowa Caucus, but placed a surprising third (behind Kerry and Edwards), which then destroyed his chances in New Hampshire (he lost to Kerry there too), forcing him to withdraw from the race even before Super Tuesday. To summarize the impact of these early primaries: If you don’t win them, you’re not going to be president.

This harsh truth is a reality because unfortunately the American populace has been conditioned by the media to reduce everything down to winners and losers (one facet of the overarching black/white binary so pervasive in the press). If a candidate appears to be a “winner,” more people will begin to vote for him or her. Not so if there is a “loser” or “dark horse” perception. But why is this so? Why are we so simple-minded in this manipulative, herd-mentality electoral process?

Sadly I think this is all a result of our general ignorance of the issues and the actual positions candidates represent. Even in the digital era in which finding out what a candidate has to say is no harder than a Google search, most Americans have no idea what distinguishes one candidate from another. We might be able to distinguish Mike Huckabee from Mitt Romney in a lineup (though I shudder to think how many Americans couldn’t even do this), but as far as how their platforms on immigration or health care differ, the majority of us would be hard pressed to come up with anything. It’s not that we don’t care or don’t pay attention to the media, it is that we do pay attention to the media. And the media has little concern for the issues. For the media it’s not about the ingredients, it’s about the overall taste. Unfortunately for our country and its longterm democratic health, a sweet and palatable taste is not what we need in a president. We need to check the label, read the ingredients, and assess the nutritional value before we pick our next poison.

Top Ten Movies of 2007

Here it is: the granddaddy and finale of my listmania month. Aren’t your relieved? Seriously, I’ve spent a LOT of time at AMC, Landmark, and various critics’ screening rooms this year, and the culmination of all that “hard” work comes here at the end of 2007, when I can give proper shoutouts to the best that I’ve seen. 2007 was a remarkable year for American cinema, with celebrated new films from American auteurs like David Fincher (Zodiac), Paul Thomas Anderson (There Will Be Blood) and Todd Haynes (I’m Not There), not to mention the triumphant return of the Western. Eight of my top ten films are American productions, and six of them deal directly with questions of what it means to be an American. Thus, even as American politics proves more depressing by the day, it appears there is something of a renaissance in our homegrown cinema—and that’s something we can all be happy about.

10) Southland Tales: Richard Kelly’s postmodern cinematic menagerie defies all categorization. It is intensely ambitious (perhaps overreaching), trippy and mind-bending, and certainly the most unique film of the year. It’s about a lot of things (Iraq, religion, America, pop iconography, media, technology, time travel, David Lynch, etc) but, strange as it sounds, feels remarkably cohesive. More than anything, Tales is a cautionary statement about who we are and where we’re going as a culture. And it’s a crazy good piece of pop entertainment to boot. 9) Once: This summer’s Irish indie import proved to be the feel-good audience charmer of the year. Equal parts Lost in Translation and Before Sunrise/Sunset,Once spins a tight little yarn about music, love, and temporality in the setting of modern day Dublin. Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova are wonderful as unnamed “guy” and “girl” who share a sudden close connection, and they harmonize beautifully on the lovely original songs that make up the soundtrack.

8) The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford: The subject matter of this film is compelling enough—the last days of America’s most notorious train robber—but the atmosphere is what makes this a great film. Taking a page out of Terrence Malick’s stylebook, director Andrew Dominik turns this story into a contemplative existential portrait told through images and sound, not so much with words. Brad Pitt does a lot of iconic posing in the film (and he’s nicely tormented), but the real star is Casey Affleck, whose “cowardly” Robert Ford is one of the most striking cinematic performances of the year.

7) The Diving Bell and the Butterfly: This French-language film from director Julian Schnabel is a “tale of human triumph” sort of film—about a man (Dominique Bauby) with “locked-in syndrome” who composes an autobiography by blinking his one functioning eyelid. Butterfly is one of the most beautifully shot films of the year, fluidly weaving the worlds of imagination, memory, and dreams into a tapestry of one man’s point of view on a world both tragic and hopeful.

6) Zodiac: This film is a stellar return to form for David Fincher (director of 90s classics Se7en and Fight Club), and one of the most intriguing, taught thrillers of the year. Fincher’s sleek visual style (I might call it digi-age noir realism) is totally unique among American directors, and he has a way of building unsettledness (not necessarily jump-out-of-your-seat horror) that lingers in your mind far after you leave the theater. Zodiac, the tale of an average Joe (Jake Gyllenhaal) who inserts himself into a decade-long investigation into the Zodiac killer, is a gorgeously made period piece (60s-80s), yet feels totally pertinent in theme to our DIY, collective-intelligence culture today.

5) Lars and the Real Girl: This film, which tells the unlikely tale of a man and his life-size doll, is the perfect blend of comedy and artsy drama, and the feel-good film of the year. A lot has been said of Ryan Gosling’s portrayal of Lars (which is remarkably humane and believable), but the supporting actors (Emily Mortimer, Paul Schneider) are also amazing in this actor’s showcase film. Sometimes the most unlikely, offbeat stories are the ones that surprise you in their deep emotional resonance. Lars is definitely such a story—and the most pleasant surprise of 2007.

4) No Country for Old Men: In a year in which America and its stark western landscapes were on full display, the Coen Brothers’ adaptation of Cormac McCarthy’s No Country For Old Men is the astonishing Exhibit A. On one level the film is a pulsating cat-and-mouse thriller (in which the creepy Javier Bardem stalks the hapless cowboy Josh Brolin), but as it progresses we begin to see that it is about much, much more. The presence and subsequent absence of violence at the film goes along reveals a white flag weariness that matches the arid and emotionless Texas landscape. It’s a film that intentionally refuses satisfaction or answers to its audience, leaving us, like the older characters in the films, to stand stumped and disillusioned by the mundane nightmare of the modern world.

3) Into the Wild: This is a film that hits all the right notes. It’s a great true story, beautifully shot in dozens of scenic locations, with top-notch acting, music, editing, and direction by Sean Penn. Emile Hirsch deliver an Oscar-worthy performance as the passionate young Chris McCandless, and Catherine Keener and Hal Holbrook should be recognized as well for their strong supporting performances. It’s a film that packs an emotional wallop, even if you know (or sense) how it is going to end. But far from a downer, Wild is the most stridently alive of any film released this year.

2) I’m Not There: Todd Haynes’ much anticipated Bob Dylan biopic (that isn’t really a biopic) is not at all accessible. For many, it’s probably not even that entertaining. It’s not an easy film by any means, but it is a work of art. There is a lot to admire about the film’s style (cinematography, period costumes, stunning editing) and its acting (Christian Bale, Heath Ledger, Richard Gere and especially Cate Blanchett are amazing), but the brilliance of I’m Not There is far less quantifiable. Just as the film—through the case study of Bob Dylan and the 60s—shows us how identity is an elusive thing in postmodernity, so too does it evade any standard understanding of story and cinema. Like the era in which it exists, I’m Not There is made up of disparate images, moments, sounds, feelings, frustrations—small pieces loosely joined by the fragmenting, universal quest for identity.

1) There Will Be Blood: There Will Be Blood is an American masterpiece--a Citizen Kane for the postmodern Net-generation. It's a stunning, thoroughly modern work of art that paints a stark picture of what happens when greedy capitalism and power-mongering is bedfellow with something so contrary as Christianity. As the title forebodes, the results—for all parties involved—will not be pretty. Though not a political film in the traditional sense, Blood nevertheless captures the blood-oil-Iraq-evangelicals-capitalism zeitgeist far better than the countless Lions for Lambs-type films have this year. For this and other reasons, it is both the most important and riveting film of 2007.

Honorable Mention: The King of Kong, Juno, The Darjeeling Limited, My Best Friend, Rescue Dawn, The Savages, Into Great Silence, Atonement, Jindabyne, Grindhouse: Death Proof, Amazing Grace.

Top Ten Albums of 2007

There were many, many great albums this year, so it is with difficulty that I construct this year’s top ten list. Any of my honorable mentions could easily take that #10 spot, as could many other albums I don’t even mention. In any case, I obviously recommend all of these albums, which are not only musically and lyrically rich, but also the most unique and forward-thinking of the year.

10) Justice, +: The French duo known as Justice released an album simply titled “cross” (the Christian symbol, not the word) and it took the dancefloor by storm in 2007. The mostly-instrumental big-beat electronica forges an uber-cool soundsystem that may or may not be a concept album (with songs like “Genesis,” “Let There Be Light” and “Waters of Nazareth”… one wonders), but is undoubtedly the best dance album of the year.

9) Waterdeep, Heart Attack Time Machine: This independent, homespun recording from Don and Lori Chaffer is one of the richest, most subtle folk albums of the year. Includes some truly beautiful ballads (“Easy Does It,” “Diana,”) and lots of whistling and finger snapping. Maybe a couple hundred people have actually heard this gem (and you can’t find it anywhere but online), but it’s definitely worth checking out.

8) Arcade Fire, Neon Bible: Not quite the tour-de-force, decade-defining album that Funeral was, but this sophomore album does anything but slump. Featuring some truly epic anthems (“Intervention,” “No Cars Go,” “The Well and the Lighthouse,” “My Body is a Cage”) that utilize more intricate instrumentation and even the occasional pipe organ, Neon Bible is every bit the blood, sweat, and tears catharsis of its predecessor.

7) Andrew Bird, Armchair Apocrypha: Another year, another exquisite album from Andrew Bird—Illinois’ favorite whistling folk hero. Apocrypha is a treasure trove of wordy lyrical passages and fine-tuned musicianship, never predictable but always easy listening. Songs like “Imitosis” and “Heretics” show Bird’s ability to be both weird and classic, and songs like the amazing “Scythian Empire” display his keen poetic grasp of modern American culture.

6) Peter, Bjorn and John, Writer’s Block: This Swedish trio follows in the footsteps of countryman Jens Lekman in concocting an infectious Motown-folk sound, even adopting a name that evokes a 60s folk staple (Peter, Paul & Mary). Their debut album, Writer’s Block, contains some whistling wonders (“Young Folks”), radio readymades (“Amsterdam”) and one of the year’s best overall songs in “Up Against the Wall.”

5) Band of Horses, Cease to Begin: This album is brimful of addictive pop melodies and sweet low country goodness. Sub Pop’s latest iteration of Shins-brand sugar pop/rock offers something less derivative and more musically interesting than most of the bands going this route. Cease to Begin feels a little bit country (“Detlef Schrempf,” “Window Blues”), a little bit rock and roll (“Marry Song,” “Is There a Ghost”), and a little haunting (“The General Specific”) in the way that the gothic South is meant to be played.

4) Panda Bear, Person Pitch: Panda Bear is the side project of Animal Collective’s frontman Noah Lennox, and even though Animal Collective’s weirdly beautiful Strawberry Jam made my honorable mention list as one of the best of 2007, it’s Panda Bear’s Person Pitch that—remarkably—pushes things even farther into the beautiful recesses of new school psychedelia. Lennox, who sounds like the Gen-Y version of Brian Wilson, fashions a painstakingly detailed, nuanced album full of buzzing layers of murmurings, oblique lyrics and repetitive samples. It’s one of the true masterpieces of the digi/DIY post-pop generation.

3) Explosions in the Sky, All of a Sudden I Miss Everyone: This album, released early in 2007, has got to be one of the most overlooked triumphs of the year. The Austin instrumental outfit (perhaps most known for its Friday Night Lights songs), makes music that soars and rumbles and bashes you around in its sheer emotional tumult. This latest album shows off an increased compositional complexity (each of the three guitar lines frequently follow separate melody lines) that gives unuttered voice to a variety of universal human emotions.

2) Radiohead, In Rainbows: Though not in the vein of the rock-minded OK Computer or the experimental epic Kid A, In Rainbows is in its own way just as progressive. Though not a concept album in the traditional sense, Rainbows is a strikingly cohesive collection with gorgeous ethereal ballads (“Nude,” “All I Need,” “House of Cards,” “Reckoner”) and a few more Hail to the Thief-era rock songs (“15 Step,” “Bodysnatchers”). On the whole, it’s an album that pushes Radiohead in a new, more sonically soothing direction, while retaining some of the cutting-edge experimentation that has defined the band.

1) The National, Boxer: The National is a New York band that has built upon (and in the case of the beautiful Boxer, improved upon) the brooding urbane sound of Interpol, with perhaps a little more of a toned down, soft stroke. You might say Boxer is the musical equivalent of an Edward Hopper painting. It’s an album for lonesome, alienated city dwellers with cold hands and warm heats, full of catchy love songs (“Slow Show,” “Start a War”) and pseudo dance-rock anthems (“Mistaken for Strangers,” “Squalor Victoria”) to compliment a long night out in the pavement jungle.

Honorable Mention: Of Montreal, Hissing Fauna, Are You the Destroyer? Burial, Untrue, Animal Collective, Strawberry Jam, LCD Soundsystem, Sound of Silver, Rosie Thomas, These Friends of Mine, Jens Lekman, Night Falls Over Kortedala, M.I.A., Kala, Over the Rhine, The Trumpet Child, Feist, The Reminder, Sunset Rubdown, Random Spirit Lover.

Five 2007 Sports Highlights

Lest it appear my blog has no interest in the finer things in culture (i.e. sports), here’s my list of the top moments (or events … or just interesting things) that happened in the wide world of sports in 2007.

Crazy College Football Season – Kansas and Illinois in BCS bowl games? Division II Appalachian State beating then #5 Michigan? Something was up this season in college football. It was a wild ride in which unranked teams dethroned top five teams thirteen times (a record) and the AP No. 1 and No. 2 teams lost in the same week three times.

Tom Brady and the Patriots’ Perfect Season – Knock on wood, but could this be the second team in history (the first was the 1972 Miami Dolphins) to go undefeated and win the super bowl? They look unstoppable so far… And Tom “Mr. Gisele” Brady is on track to break Peyton Manning’s single season record of 49 touchdown passes. Pretty impressive.

Boise State and the 2007 Fiesta Bowl – No one really thought Boise State had a chance against the powerhouse Oklahoma Sooners on the Jan 1st BCS Fiesta Bowl. But on the first day of 2007, the BSU Broncos gave one of the most remarkable sports performances of the entire year. The trick plays, statue of liberty shenanigans and balls-out showmanship (going for two to win or lose the game with seconds left!) left those of us who stayed up to watch it utterly breathless.

David Beckham moves to the U.S. and no one cares – Talk about a tree falling in the forest! The arrival of Posh n’ Becks to L.A. this summer was a media-constructed mega event… akin to a visit from the Queen or a new baby for Angelina Jolie or something. But almost immediately after Beckham started playing for the L.A. Galaxy he got injured, popping the already-deflated hype balloon. At least Posh had the Spice Girls Reunion tour to fall back on!

Ridiculous Scandals – Forget the Mitchell Report, Roger Clemens, and Barry Bonds… my favorite sports scandals of the year were much less predictable: 1) Michael Vick’s dogfighting (dogfighting?), 2) NBA ref Tim Donaghy’s sports betting scheme, and 3) Don Imus’s “nappy-headed h*s” radio comment. You can’t make this stuff up.

More 2007 Bests: Soundtracks and Documentaries

Listmania month continues with two more categories: 2007’s best movie soundtracks and documentary films. Enjoy!

Top Five Movie Soundtracks

5) Southland Tales – Moby’s new songs for this trippy film are perfect digi-age homages to the thick sonic layering of Angelo Badalamenti (who scores David Lynch’s films). This eclectic soundtrack also features great songs from The Pixies, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, and Elbow.

4) Juno – Music is integral to this film, especially the lovely kid-folk tunes of Kimya Dawson (formerly of The Moldy Peaches). The heartwarming duet “Anyone Else But You” features prominently in the film, as do songs by The Kinks, Belle & Sebastian, and Sonic Youth.

3) Once – The modern musical hit of the year produced one of the most enchanting soundtrack albums, featuring the low-key acoustic duets of Glen Hansard (frontman of Dublin band The Frames) and Markéta Irglová (classically trained Czech vocalist and pianist).

2) Into the Wild– Eddie Vedder is the musical voice of early-90s Gen X angst in this wonderful film adaptation of the Jon Kracauer novel. Even if you never liked Pearl Jam you should check out this rich collection of original songs that perfectly compliment the film’s themes of wanderlust and alienation.

1) I’m Not There – Not only the best film soundtrack of the year, but one of the year’s most satisfying albums period. A great two-disc collection of Dylan songs as interpreted by a diverse array of folkophiles like Calexico, Cat Power, Mason Jennings, and Yo La Tengo.

Honorable Mention: There Will Be Blood – Johnny Greenwood’s instrumental soundtrack to Paul Thomas Anderson’s film is full of paranoia and foreboding… and some gorgeously creepy buzzing noises.

Top Five Documentaries

5) Unborn in the U.S.A. – This is the film Lake of Fire touted itself to be: a remarkably objective documentary about the abortion debate. Unborn examines various aspects of the pro-life movement without indulging in editorial embellishment or cheap-shot exploitation.

4) My Kid Could Paint That– An utterly fascinating film for anyone who’s ever wondered what makes something “art” or who decides what abstract painting is more worthy than another. Whatever you think of the contemporary art world, this is a film sure to provoke.

3) The Devil Came on Horseback- A compelling look at the crisis in Darfur from the perspective of someone (Marine Capt. Brian Steidle) who lived and worked in the midst of the genocide. A truly moving, frustrating look at Sudan’s troubles and the lackluster response by the rest of the world.

2) Into Great Silence – Three hours of near silent meditation may not be entertaining, but it is certainly beautiful and sometimes utterly spellbinding. It really gets you into the otherworldly rhythm of life in a secluded monastery.

1) The King of Kong– This is a fun documentary about nerdy middle-aged “gamers” and their obsession with world records, but it is also one of the most profound cinematic microcosms of Americana to hit the screen all year. Really a must-see.

Honorable Mention: Heima (Home) – This Sigur Ros concert film was never released in theaters, but it’s definitely worth checking out on DVD. A beautiful film about Iceland, the power of live music, and the joy of coming home after a long absence.

Top Twenty Songs of the Year

This list is not a collection of obvious singles or hits, but simply the best individual songs (in my opinion) that have come out in 2007. They include flashy pop dance songs, eccentric indie rock, and one or two songs from Sweden. They were the most-played songs on my iPod in 2007, and they are all available to buy ala carte on iTunes (well worth the 99 cents). This is the ultimate 07 playlist!

20) Animal Collective, “Peacebone” – Like nothing you’ve heard all year, trust me. Sample lyric: It was a jugular vein in a juggler’s girl / It was supposedly leaking most interesting colors.

19) LCD Soundsystem “Someone Great” – This mesmerizing 80s-sounding track is a standout on the fantastic Sound of Silver. Sample lyric: I wish that we could talk about it / But there, that's the problem.

18) Amy Winehouse, “Love is a Losing Game” – Much more chill and old-school than “Rehab,” with a great David Lynch/1950s prom dance sound. Sample lyric: Self-professed, profound, 'til the tips were down / Know you're a gambling man, love is a losing hand.

17) Band of Horses, “Ode to LRC” – An ebullient little gem from the sweetest-sounding album of the year. Sample lyric: The world is such a wonderful place /La di da, La di da, La di da, La di da.

16) Britney Spears, “Break the Ice” – Britney’s new album was packed full of deliciously produced dance tracks, and this one is perhaps the best. Sample lyric: Won’t you warm up to me / Baby I can make you feel hot hot hot hot.

15) Of Montreal, “A Sentence of Sorts in Kongsvinger” – A wonderfully out-there song with some very danceable beats and memorable lyrics. Sample lyric: I spent the winter with my nose buried in a book / While trying to restructure my character

14) Jens Lekman, “The Opposite of Hallellujah” – A breezy summer tune from a Motown-happy Swede. Sample lyric: I took my sister down to the ocean, but the ocean made me feel stupid.

13) Justice, “Genesis” – When this song lifts off around the 0:40 mark, just try not to dance. Sample lyric: There are no lyrics. Just amazing beats.

12) Kanye West, “Stronger” – The Daft Punk sample makes for the hottest Kanye track in a long time. Sample lyric: You know how long I've been on ya? Since prince was on Appolonia / Since OJ had Isotoners.

11) Explosions in the Sky, “The Birth and Death of the Day” – The majestic, heart-soaring instrumental song of the year from Austin’s premier post-rock outfit. Sample lyric: none (instrumental).

10) Rilo Kiley, “Silver Lining” – A great, twangy alt-country tune with silky-smooth vocals by Jenny Lewis. Sample lyric: I was your silver lining, but now I’m gold.

9) Bjork, “Earth Intruders” – Bjork makes a striking(ly odd) comeback with this Timbaland-produced single from her new album Volta . Sample lyric: There is turmoil out there / Carnage! Rambling! / What is to do but dig / dig bones out of earth.

8) Radiohead, “Weird Fishes / Arpeggi” – One of about six Radiohead songs that could have made it on this list. Sample lyric: In the deepest ocean / The bottom of the sea / Your eyes they turn me.

7) Eddie Vedder, “Guaranteed” – This beautiful song from the Into the Wild soundtrack is “guaranteed” to get an Oscar nomination for best original song. Sample lyric: Circles they grow and they swallow people whole / Half their lives they say goodnight to wives they'll never know.

6) Rufus Wainwright “Slideshow” – Rufus is the king of making the mundane melodramatic, and this epic tirade is a perfect example. Sample lyric: And I better be prominently featured in your next slideshow / Because I paid a lot of money to get you over here, you know?

5) Over the Rhine, “The Trumpet Child” – The most gorgeously urgent and apocalyptic Over the Rhine song since “Changes Come.” Sample lyric: The trumpet child will blow his horn / Will blast the sky till it’s reborn / With Gabriel’s power and Satchmo’s grace / He will surprise the human race.

4) Peter, Bjorn and John, “Up Against the Wall” – You’ve probably heard it on one of those trendy Levi's 501 commercials, but it’s truly one of the most satisfying songs of the year. Sample lyric: You slap just like a wake-up call / The bruises on the face don’t bother me at all.

3) Arcade Fire “Intervention” – The use of pipe organ in this powerful song is simply astounding. Sample Lyric: Working for the church while your family dies / You take what they give you and you keep it inside.

2) The National, “Ada” – Horns and glistening piano accent the brooding vocals and forlorn Gatsby imagery of this luxurious song. Sample lyric: Stand inside an empty tuxedo with grapes in my mouth, waiting for Ada.

1) Andrew Bird, “Scythian Empire” – An exquisite, timely song that captures the zeitgeist with heartbreaking eloquence. Sample lyric: Their Halliburton attaché cases are useless / While scotch guard Macintoshes shall be carbonized.

Top Ten Comedies of the Year

For whatever reason, comedies tend to get the shaft come awards season and year-end lists. But there is definitely something to be said for a great comedy film (it’s one of the hardest types of film to do well). Thus, in keeping with the listmania theme of December, here is my list of the ten best comedies of 2007.

10) Waitress: Keri Russell’s gleefully naïve piemaker was one of the funnier female comedic characters of the year.

9) Dan in Real Life: Peter Hedges’ romantic comedy gave Steve Carell a chance to tone it down a bit (even opposite Dane Cook), and the result was a solid, completely satisfying and sometimes hilarious film.

8) Enchanted: This film proved that Disney can do ironic self-referential comedy really well, though the real story is definitely Amy Adams, who gave one of the best comedic performances of the year as Princess Giselle.

7) Hot Fuzz: This British send-up of everything from buddycop action films and Bruckheimer-brand mayhem to Tony Scott-inspired quickcut absurdity was by far one of the most enjoyable comedies of the year.

6) Knocked Up: It was the year of Seth Rogan and Judd Apatow, and this was their crowning achievement. Rare is the film that wins over the elitist film critics, the populist frat of the land, and the occasional conservative Christian (for the pro-life undertones of the film).

5) Death at a Funeral: This great British ensemble pic turns one of culture's most sacred ceremonies into a circus of comedic insanity and fun British colloquialisms (“are you mental?”).

4) The Darjeeling Limited: Wes Anderson’s film was maybe not as funny as his others have been, but in its own weird “too cool for school” way, Darjeeling definitely packs in the subtle jokes and understated character humor.

3) My Best Friend: This little-scene French film had me smiling ear to ear from nearly the first frame to the last. It’s a joyous, innocent, hilarious buddy comedy with some pretty profound themes to boot.

2) Lars and the Real Girl: Not exactly a comedy in the proper sense, but some of its scenes are definitely among the year’s funniest. Ryan Gosling and Paul Schneider deliver simultaneously hilarious and heartbreaking performances in one of the best overall films of the year.

1) Juno: This pint-sized indie masterpiece is yard-for-yard the funniest film of the year, even when at its heart it might feel like a tragedy. It’s all about growing up—negotiating that awkward transition from childhood to adulthood, and Ellen Page (as Juno) makes the whole thing seem effortless and sweetly ridiculous.

Bonus: Top Five Guilty-Pleasure Movies of 2007

5) Beowulf: It may be an offense to the English majors in the room (myself included), but this motion-capture action epic is a whole lotta fun. “I… Am… Beowulf!”

4) The 300: By all means a ridiculous piece of techno-pop fluff (and “the new Braveheart” for Wild at Heart youth ministries everywhere) but this sword-and-sandal epic is undeniably a fun indulgence in cinematic excess.

3) The Mist: Stephen King is always good for some cheap thrills at the movies, and this is no different. The monsters are great, and Marcia Gay Harden plays a deliciously evil Christian fanatic (always fun!).

2) Live Free or Die Hard: Bruce Willis rocks it in this over-the-top action romp. It’s mostly brawn but does have some brain (unlike something like Transformers), and features vintage Bruce moments like the “Yippee Ka Yay (sound of gunshot).”

1) 28 Weeks Later, Planet Terror and Death Proof (tie): Nuance is nowhere to be found in this go-for-broke trio of zombie/musclecar/violent mayhem. Don’t miss the “helicopter as weapon of mass destruction” moment (in both 28 Weeks and Planet Terror) and the insane final car chase scene in Tarantino’s Death Proof.