Spirituality in The Children of Heaven

The Children of Heaven (1997), an Iranian film by Majid Majidi, is structured like a perfect parable. Though the viewer is encouraged to understand the motivations of the adults in the film, the protagonists are children, providing powerful metaphors about deity. The familial drama is relatable to all, across all cultures. Finally, Ali’s struggles are a perfect metaphor for the relationship weak mortals have with a merciful God.

As the title explicitly suggests, this film is about children, primarily Ali and his sister Zahra. For the most part we see the world from their perspective, and share their memories and often private thoughts. From the beginning of the film, we understand that these protagonists, and by extension ourselves, can do little on our own. Zahra’s shoes are repaired in the deft hands of an adult, and then are later accidentally pawned away by an adult. When Ali comes late to school, his own excuses offer him no sanctuary from the punishment of the schoolmaster, only his adult teacher can intervene on his behalf. Much like our lives as weak mortals on a world controlled by powers, divine and natural, much more powerful than us, our fate, to a great degree, is in the hands of these powers.

Majidi does not, however, view this challenging relationship between weak mortals and powerful Gods as inherently cruel. Though Ali and Zahra have demanding parents and teachers, they are not mean spirited. Ali does well on a test, and receives a gold pen as a prize. Zahra loses a shoe in the gutter, and two helpful men retrieve it for her. Ali and his father go out to search for gardening work, a joy and challenge that they share together. Ali plays an integral role in providing success and happiness for his father in this situation. When things get out of control, and Ali and his father are sent hurtling down the hill towards the tree at the bottom, it is not because of mistreatment from adults, but forces of nature more powerful than both the children and adults. By portraying adults as inherently kind, Majidi not only teaches us how we should teach children, but also allows insight into the relationship between loving deities and their creations.

Finally, the race sequence at the conclusion of the film is a beautiful metaphor for the way in which grace works in our lives. Ali’s goal is to get third in the race so that he can win a pair of shoes for Zahra. He has been struggling to get shoes the entire film. It is what he desires most. He runs faster than he ever has, and to his own surprise and disappointment, takes first place in the race instead of third, missing out on the new pair of shoes. He is devastated, and goes home disappointed, to soak his battered feet in the fountain at his home. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to him, their father is buying them brand new shoes for both of them. Majidi’s story is brilliantly crafted. How often have we tried so hard for the thing we want, and then missed it in unsuspecting ways, often receiving better rewards, but not the ones we wanted. Meanwhile, outside of our control and knowledge, a loving deity is preparing for us the thing we need the most. Ali worked harder to get the shoes than he had worked for anything else in his life, but no amount of work could get him his prize. He needed another to actually provide the shoes in the end.

At the film’s conclusion, Ali soaks his world weary feet in the fountain as beautiful gold fish kiss his feet. Life has not been easy for him, but he has worked hard, and has earned his own reward: the blisters of a hard run and the calming touch of a relaxing fountain. Meanwhile, by the love and grace of an adult figure, his well earned shoes are coming to him. The Children of Heaven is a simple yet profound metaphor for the experience of being a child of God.

Family in Paper Moon

Paper Moon (1973) is the fictional and hilarious documentation of an unlikely family. Though he vehemently denies it, Moses Pray is Addie’s father. At first it’s just their jaws that look similar, but as the film progresses, we discover that Addie is in every since a perfect mixture of her father and mother: an adventure loving con-man and a dolled up bar girl with a sweetheart. The discovery of these two identities are the ultimate goal for Addie. Bogdanovich favors finding one’s identity within family over all other pursuits, including moral ones.

Several scenes in the film are indicative of prioritizing family over morality. When Moses falls for Trixie Delight, taking him away from their business and more importantly, close relationship, Addie takes action. She approaches the solution to the problem from a completely morally bankrupt perspective: she will lie to Trixie, her father, and the bellhop in a scheme that will get her father to walk in on a sex scandal. A traditional narrative would punish Addie. After all, she is actively fighting against her father’s wishes in a horrible scandal that involves matters she does not fully understand. But Bogdanovich lets Addie walk away free from judgement, and both her and Imogene are able to return happily to their families. Addie devises an escape plan from the police, one which eventually comes back to punish Moses, but still gives way to their ultimate freedom and unity as a family. The final sequence may be the best example. Addie is given a morally upright lifestyle with her Aunt, one that is comfortable, clean, and by all right, ‘healthy’. But it is not with her true family, and more importantly, is not aligned with the personalities of both her mother and father. Addie runs from her Aunt’s house and joins Moses again on the road.

A unique aspect of Paper Moon is the actual father and daughter relationship between Ryan O’Neal, who plays Moses, and Tatum O’Neal, who plays Addie. Their comfortability is extremely apparent on screen, and allows for both Ryan and Tatum to deliver astounding performances, especially in the case of such a young performer as Tatum. The film also becomes, in many ways, a documentary about Ryan O’Neal introducing his daugher to his own career. Much like Moses in the film, O’Neal is going on a sort of professional journey with his daugher, where he is coaching her and also learning from her in the field of acting (a profession that could be considered as risky as bible selling!). The film works in this way on two levels. Fictionally, it is a story about two characters choosing family over all other ultimate goals, and in real life, it shows the O’Neals sharing a professional experience and relationship as a means of coming together as father and daughter.

Critique in Speed Racer

The Wachowski's Speed Racer is a film like no other. Aesthetically, it is a critique of the film medium. By exposing the apparatus of CGI, the Wachowski's embrace the contrived reality of the film world and revel in its artificiality, simultaneously critiquing those films (including their own work) that has tried to hide it so carefully while reveling in the amazing visual power of digital film. The film also critiques the way in which we classically understand and tell narratives, casting linearity to the side and replacing it with a stylized 'race collage' form that is guided by kinetics rather than temporality. These formal critiques serve as the ideal backdrop to the thematic weight of the film, which criticizes money motivated corporations in favor of the art and expression found in the individual and family.
The CGI used in the film can be described as nothing less than exuberant. Always favoring color and form over 'realism', Speed Racer does not mind that you will immediately recognize the world as fake. This is exactly its purpose. The architecture is nonsensical and the physics impossible. This serves two purposes, in my mind. The first is to draw the viewers attention to the insincere nature of film as a medium. Almost every film utilizes fake sets, special effects (even if they are practical), and camera angle and techniques that cavalierly break the rules of physics and reality in the name of 'narrative'. By breaking these rules with such exuberance, the Wachowski's demonstrate that critique is not only possible, it can be joyful and jovial.
This childlike joviality is blatantly apparent in the way they choose to tell the story of speed racer. The Wachowski's construct a new narrative form I term 'race collage'. Pulled heavily from Japanese and American cartoons and action films, the race collage form prioritizes kinetics over all. Though a clear three act structure still acts as the backbone of the film, the individual sequences are told in a radically new way. Flashbacks, flash forwards, talking heads, and stunning action sequences are stacked together with literally no breathing room, the oncoming action often acting as the transition that wipes the previous from the screen. The viewers eye leaps from image to image, engaged primarily through kinetics, while plot is delivered secondarily. Similar to the visuals of the film, this is also an exuberant critique. Not only does it point out the method in which chaos cinema is increasingly engaging its audiences, it does it better than any other film of its kind, reveling in its own critique.
These formal choices all lie as a backdrop to the thematic critique of the film. The money grubbing corporations of Speed Racer could not be more evil, relying on piranha-feeding mobsters, shady deals, and straight out cheating to accomplish their means. They are the perfect antithesis to the Racers, who live in a classic 70's American home, are more excited for a glass of milk than a gold trophy, and are raised by John Goodman (as all good American boys should be). Rather than splitting apart at the first sign of trouble, the Racers learn to stick together through their hardships. Instead of racing for money, they race for 'art' as Mrs. Racer reminds Speed, and use the organic and encouraging phrase 'it's in our blood' to remind themselves why they do what they do. Ultimately, the Racers triumph, not only taking home the trophy, but also coming together as a family. Mr. Royalton ends up behind bars, where all money grubbing CEO's belong. This critique is also done with childlike exuberance, not holding back from a single cliche.
Speed Racer is a film that proves that you can poke fun while still having fun. Though regarded by many as nauseating eye candy, I would argue that Speed Racer is acutely aware of the moves it is making, and can be seen as a joyful critique. It is one of those rare films, like Young Frankenstein and Deadpool that manages to make fun of its own medium, while simultaneously managing to be one of the best examples of that very medium.

Play in Black Widow Fanfiction

As MARVEL’s Avengers move farther into the limelight with each MARVEL cinematic installment, fanfiction devoted to the costumed team increases exponentially. While most of the original Avengers (with the exception of Hawkeye) received multiple films to their name, Natasha Romanov (codename: Black Widow) has no such films to her name, nor do they appear to be on the horizon. This, combined with the fact that she is the only female on the original team, makes her particularly unique. As such, Black Widow fan fiction is ubiquitous. Fans, noting the lack of Black Widow backstory, have exercised their right to creativity, filling in the gap that Marvel has left them. The result is both both delightful and worrisome, as fans play with the idea of what it means to be a sexy and powerful female who interacts primarily with men.

I read two pieces of Black Widow fan fiction: Secret Keeper by Sofia Bee and The Reunited Avengers: A Black Widow Fanfic by Charles O’Carry. The Reunited Avengers: A Black Widow Fanfic was unique in that it was one of the few pieces I could easily find that cast Black Widow as the leader of the Avengers. Set as a sequel to The Avengers (2012), the story begins with another Chitauri attack, this one after Nick Fury himself. Once Nick is kidnapped, Hawkeye and Maria Hill appoint Natasha as the new leader of Shield. She rounds up the team and leads them to fight for Nick Fury’s rescue. Rather like Derrida’s de-centering, O’Carry tells a traditional Avengers story, but with Natasha as the focus. She makes many of the plans, is the key force in bringing the team back together, and in essence, takes the place of Nick Fury. The adaptation shows originality and also makes a powerful feminist statement, as Natasha’s role in the Avengers, though key, is often downplayed by her male companions.

O’Carry did not, however, re-interpret the emotional depth of Natasha as a character. Throughout the story, she performs much as she does in the traditional narrative. She is underestimated by men, she beats up small time antagonists who taunt her, and she tries to calm all of her testosterone fueled characters down a notch. The piece also rotates from one character's point of view to another each chapter, which though imaginative, means that only a fraction of the story is actually told from Natasha’s perspective. The piece represents the strain often felt in fan fiction: an effort to move away from the source material, but retain the rules of play that the original authors have established.

The second piece, Secret Keeper, re-imagines Natasha in completely different way. The short story documents a single conversation that Natasha and Bruce Banner have while in bed. Bruce opens up about his anxieties with Tony’s goal to ‘loosen him up’ and Natasha listens to him and comforts him. They end by kissing passionately, though not overly erotically, the image of a romantic yet productive relationship. Bee, though not de-centering the narrative, has played with the piece emotionally and narratively, giving us access to a scene only loosely alluded to on screen. Like a videogame, this piece of fan fiction allows us as the reader to dwell on an element skipped over in a linear narrative. Similarly, we are made to identify with these characters. No super powers or fantastical feats are shown in the story, just words and actions of love. Again, like a game, we are brought to identify with these characters through the piece, rather than see them as other. In this way, the piece is progressive for Natasha, and represents her as a multifaceted female character.

Still, the extent to which the piece critiques some of the problematic feminism in Avengers is complicated. On the one hand, Natasha is playing a stereotypical female role. She is the antithesis to the masculine Bruce, and must use her softness and gentleness to balance out the monster inside of him. Though this role is far from progressive, it is, on the other hand, a role that is unusual for Natasha, who is often seen as an aggressive and caustic force, so it could be argued that it is still providing her with more realistic depth. The story ends rather sensually, yet another classically complicated issue for Natasha. In fact, the majority of fan fiction about Black Widow is R or NC-17 rated, and is extremely sexual in nature, Bee’s rather tame ending being one of the exceptions. This piece runs a fine line between identifying with her as a sexual being, and objectifying her image as she and Bruce spend a night together in bed. Progressive or not, it should be lauded that Bee’s interpretation of the piece opens up new questions that the source material does not.

Natasha remains a complex character in the MARVEL universe, one who is either forgotten, sexualized, or championed. Those who ‘play’ with the canonical story are as quick to objectify as they are to deepen and strengthen her character, a struggle that every artist encounters when they take the reins of creation in their own hands. It will be interesting to see if MARVEL is ever brave enough to do it themselves on screen.

Diversity in Grave of the Fireflies

In an effort to provide affirming narratives, few children’s films strive to de-center. This focus on de-centering is the primary thing that makes Grave of the Fireflies (1988) a unique and invaluable children’s film. As Jacque Derrida explained, de-centering is the conscious act of recognizing a privilege or bias, and then shifting that privilege to a new focus. Grave of the Fireflies does this on several levels, presenting its viewers with a de-centered perspective on World War II, societal deviants, and the value of victory.

Grave of the Fireflies is a thoroughly Japanese film. This goes much farther than the fact that it is created and performed by Japanese artists. Though the film focuses on the Japanese-American conflict during World War II, no Americans are seen on screen. Their planes are viewed from below, ominous and inhuman machines of death. The destruction and eventual loss of the conflict is one of the most defining events of Japanese history and culture in the last one hundred years, and the personal loss and trauma felt during the war is felt clearly in each minute of the film. This is an image of war foreign to Americans. Instead of viewing Japan from the cockpit, we experience the heart wrenching ordeal of being the target on the ground. Our typically American bias is decentered and placed upon a different culture.

Seita and Setsuko do not live within the mainstream of the Japanese population. This again de-centers the narrative, this time from a position of privilege to that of poverty. Seita and Setsuko do not just experience the challenges of poverty, they choose it, stubbornly fighting to live independently rather than feel insulted by their nagging aunt. Seita feels so alienated from his own culture, that he even reverts to theft to provide them with food. In a sobering moment of the film, Seita raises his hands in the air and cheers at the sight of the firebombed village, thanking the American bombers for the opportunity to steal from the abandoned homes. Rather than following a trend of stories that place children in the mainstream of society, on a trajectory to become contributing adults, Grave of the Fireflies introduces us to vagrant and irreverent children, who in such dire circumstances even cheer on the same evil that orphaned them.

Finally, Grave of the Fireflies questions the value of victory. The film puts us on the flip side of the victor’s coin. Not only do the Japanese lose the conflict at large, but Seita and Setsuko do not overcome their personal challenges, both perishing prematurely at the conclusion of the film. Particularly for American children’s media, this may seem the most drastic de-centering of all. What makes the story so beautiful and memorable, is that it finds the eminent in loss. As a nation, Japan, like these children, has had to come to grips with loss, and try to make meaning of not only the sorrow experienced in loss, but also its purifying and maturing power. Near the end of the film, three teenage girls return to the town where Seita and Setsuko have been eking out their existence. The girls cheer with delight at the sight of their old home, and speak lightheartedly of how much they have missed the beautiful view. These girls have, to some degree, won a personal victory, in that they have survived. Yet they have not experienced the same sobering growth as Seita and Setsuko, who have discovered the true meaning of love, sacrifice, and family in the anvil of their affliction. Grave of the Fireflies not only reverently sorrows at loss, it also illustrates its incredible power to exalt humankind.

This beautiful film introduces children to a truly diverse world. It de-centers traditional American views of World War II, roles in society, and the importance of victory. Still, throughout, it manages to reach all audiences through its honest characters and universally heart-wrenching depictions of family.

Diversity in Whale Rider

Whale Rider is unique, in that it not only teaches its viewers to respect a specific culture, it also teaches them to question its foundations. While many films fall on one side of the spectrum or the other, either touting traditionalism or progress, Niki Caro's remarkable story lives somewhere in between the two. We come to truly understand Paikea's culture, not just for its beauty and validity, but also for its faults and frustrations.
On its surface, we join Paikea in a journey to fight against the misogynistic traditions of her fathers. Paikea excels in all things that should please her grandfather: she is a good dancer, singer, swimmer, and fighter and she upholds their tribes rules and traditions with exactness. But, she is a girl. When fixing the motorboat together, Paikea metaphorically connects the old lineage with the new, and uses it to start the engine, but Koro will have none of it. He warns Paikea to stop messing with the engine, or in other words, to not assume she can fix things. She may have the skills, but the fact that she is a girl makes those skills even more frustrating to Koro. Though the sexist litany is familiar to almost all cultures, Paikea's struggle is unique to her position in the tribe, and we are introduced intimately to its frustrations. When change finally does come, and Paikea is made the rightful chief, we feel relief and a sense of victory.
Despite the fact that this aspect of Maori culture is flawed, Caro approaches other aspects of their culture with sacred respect. The story is from Paikea's perspective, and it is therefore taken for granted throughout the film that the tenants of their beliefs are true. The whales are the wise gods of the film, watching over Paikea's life. There is no question whether it would be a good choice for Paikiea to pursue the position of chief or 'prophet' in this tribe: it is taken for granted that it is something that she wants and something that will bring her fulfillment. Throughout the film, we see touching examples of how these belief systems bring the community together. Whether it is in the dance hall, on the beach rescuing the whales, or finally, rowing out to sea in their boat, their unique beliefs bind these people together in a way that brings about true love, compassion, and forgiveness.
Niki Caro is not interested in throwing the baby out with the bathwater. Though she recognizes the failings of this Maori tribe, she also sees its beauty and power. Thus, we as the audience both feel like we can identify with these people, but also respectfully recognize that they are unique from us. We all experience joy and frustration in our own cultures, and here, it is no difference. Rather than undermining or exoticizing the Maori, Whale Rider shows us the complete picture, a group of people we can relate to, and also see for their beautiful differences.

Documentation in The Catcher in the Rye

The Catcher in the Rye (1951) - J.D. Salinger

The Catcher in the Rye is, in many ways, the perfect document. Though a work of fiction, J.D. Salinger has carefully crafted a novel that documents the life of a frustrated youth from every perspective. The book reads like a direct link to Holden Caufield’s mind. Every thought, word, and action is carefully accounted for. By doing so, Salinger writes a novel that does not rely on metaphor, allusion, fantasy, or parable to carry its themes. Rather, the strength of The Catcher in the Rye comes from its almost brutal honesty, perhaps a better vehicle for this weighty thematic material than any other.

The story takes place over a remarkably short period of time. Salinger’s clever choice to write about a mere four nights in Caufield’s life creates the feeling that the reader sees every detail of Caufield’s life. No snippet of dialogue is leapt over in an effort to ‘move the plot along’. Not even a single thought slips unnoticed from the reader’s attention. In this sense, quite literally, Caufield’s life is an open book, and even if he would choose to hide anything from the reader, it would appear he cannot. This creates a remarkable sense of empathy for the character. As the reader travels with Caufield through every one of his often amusing and sometimes illogical thoughts, they find it easy to connect with him. Though despicable at times, he cannot help but be liked, for the reader cannot help but see themselves in him. Thus Salinger’s choice to follow Caufield’s life meticulously provides us with more than just good documentation, it also allows us to relate deeply to the character.

Salinger also chooses to write his novel in the first person. This deepens the reader’s connection with Caufield in two ways. Firstly, it becomes easy to empathize with his point of view. When he feels that he is the victim of unfair teachers, the reader understands why. When he decides to get drunk and avoid responsibility, though disagreeable, it is still understandable. Secondly, Salinger inhabits the voice and syntax of Caufield through the entire book. Perhaps the most memorable aspect of The Catcher in the Rye, his mastery of the written word is remarkable. Caufield’s coarse and sarcastic world view is applied to every description and thought, and readers soon find themselves inhabiting completely Caufield’s perspective, and even thinking like he would think. Though fictional, Salinger’s use of the first person still furthers the power of the book as a document, as it helps us to emotionally internalize the thoughts and motivations of another.

Finally, Salinger relies solely on the events that unfold in Caufield’s life to expose the thematic content of the book. Rather than relying on metaphors or verbose pontifications, Salinger masterfully and truthfully relays the facts of Caufield’s experience: his expulsion from Pencey, his lonely night in the hotel, and his schemes with Phoebe. Though carefully crafted to tell the story of the anxieties and pressures of youth, particularly in the stifling post war period, Salinger is careful not to play his hand. Rather, through Caufield’s own coarse tongue, he allows the reader to interpret the truth for themselves, using the boy’s experience as a ‘true life’ document to be studied again and again, each visit yielding greater understanding.

Experimentation in Alice

Alice (1987) - Jan Svankmajer

Jan Svankmajer’s Alice (1987) is an astounding achievement in film. Svankmajer interprets Carol’s work masterfully. In his interpretation, the rabbit hole does not just transport Alice to a new world, it carries its audience to a new dimension of the filmic arts. In Alice, the transformative narrative allows Svankmajer to experiment with the boundaries of film, presenting viewers with dimensions of the medium they have never before encountered. These experiments do not just amaze, they also delve deep into the human experience.

Svankmajer’s exploration of the visual medium is both methodical and gleefully spontaneous. From the very beginning of the film, he lays before you the subjects of his experimentation. The roving camera in Alice’s room reveals the teacup, the jars of buttons and tacks, the doll, the playing cards, the tarts, even the white rabbit. These are the building blocks that Svankmajer will experiment with through the entire film. In this way, he is methodical, carefully taking each individual prop and re-arranging it again and again, to experiment with it in every possible way.

Despite this methodical introduction, the actual experimentation is wild and courageous.

As is true of all of his work, Svankmajer introduces a sense of texture into Alice that is rare in film. Each successive sequence introduces a new tactile character: the rabbit’s flaky sawdust entrails, the slimy pickled thumb tacks, the coarse sock caterpillars, the limp cut of meat, and the crisp playing cards. Svankmajer sets each one up carefully. At first, we simply see the object. But as the experimentation is pushed farther the character moves and interacts with the space around it in unexpected ways. Finally, Svankmajer’s characters often go through a tactile examination or destruction of some kind. The sawdust is consumed, the pickled tacks spread across Alice’s fingers, the socks first crushed and then inflated again, the cards snipped to bits. This is Svankmajer’s ingenious experimentation at work. It is not enough for us to simply see something in his films, we must see it transformed, destroyed, or consumed for us to truly feel its texture and understand it as a tactile object.

Svankmajer’s experimentations extend beyond the formal elements of the film. He examines the causal nature of storytelling as well. As exemplified in the tea party scene, Svankmajer questions the very nature of progress and agency. The March Hare and the Mad Hatter repeat themselves endlessly, their actions leading to no improvement in their condition or relief from their quotidian worries. Alice is caught in a similar cycle.  Her body is often at the whims of the confusing world around her, a fact that she can do little to change. The juice and tarts, which either shrink or enlarge her body, seem to follow no logical rules, and any attempt to use their powers productively are mostly unsuccessful. In the haunting court scene at the conclusion of the film, Alice’s head is suddenly replaced, in dizzying flashes, with the heads of the other characters she has met on her adventure. She cannot control her own body, not to mention the outcomes of her future. When she is returned safely to her room, it is by no doing of her own. She is plucked helplessly from her plight, her body just another experimental object in the hands of fate.

Svankmajer is not content with simply telling us a story. He wants us to experiment with it, see it destroyed, consume it, watch it be transformed and mutated before our eyes. In this way, we come to understand it that much better. This is not just true with the host of fascinating creatures we encounter in Alice, it is true of the titular character herself. As Alice is transformed, disfigured, and examined from every possible angle, we come to understand her more clearly. Svankmajer’s experimentation is more than just an exercise in artistic limits, it is a method of exposing us to new aspects of the human condition.

Online Response #5: Imagination

Roy Rowland and Dr. Suess's 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T is a dream adventure in every sense of the word. Like the dreams that most of us experience on a nightly basis, Bartholomew's adventure is not just fantasy, horror, or science fiction: it is a melding of all three. Like the wandering subconscious, Rowland gleefully takes us on sidetracks, twists the familiar into the fantastic, and ultimately, returns us to the waking world, a little wiser and well worn.

The genre of the 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T is difficult to establish. Vivian Sobchak, whose classifications of fictional stories I find persuasive, would see the fantastical in this film, as many of Bartholomew's dreams become reality at little sacrifice to himself. The ridiculous 'sound remover' concoction created at the end comes at little personal sacrifice, and the science literally bends its will to satisfy the boy's desires. It is not science, it is the pure power of wishing, or fantasy. On the other hand, Bartholomew's journey could be seen as a horror. Sobchak defines horror as a story which rewards exploration with complete disappointment or even destruction, which indeed happens several times in the film. Bartholomew is constantly trying new doors, passage ways, and also tactics to win back his mother and escape the evil academy, and they mostly fail. He has difficulty communicating with adults (a common childhood horror) and the dungeons are literally scenes from nightmares. Science fiction elements are also apparent. Sobchak notes that science fiction narratives are interested in the display of a world over a character, and with the many meandering music and dance numbers, it is not hard to see a focus on place over character. Ultimately, this place must be sacrificed to grant the children freedom. The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T is certainly not a genre picture, and if anything, must be described as a 'dream' picture. It is pure imagination.

Another aspect of the film that links it clearly in our minds as an imaginative experience is the meandering nature of the narrative. Though this is a common trait in musicals, it is noteworthy that several of the songs (Zabladowski's seduction to Dr. T's power, the dungeon sequence, Dr. T's dressing sequence) do not involve the main character of Bartholomew. He is a silent, or dreaming, observer to all of these numbers, which often serve the establishment of the world over furthering the character driven narrative. Like a section of a dream that we cannot shake, these visually rich sequences stick with us even when the finer points of the plot have faded away.

Finally, the film makes good on a childhood wish: that our imaginations really do make a difference in the world. Though we as viewers know that Bartholomew is dreaming, we, like him, secretly hope throughout the film that when he awakes, he will not only have overthrown Dr. T in his dream, but also in real life. We are familiar with this hope from our childhood. We have all secretly hoped that our toys might come alive, as we imagine them, or that if we dream we have received a present, that we will find it magically the next morning. At first, when Bartholomew wakes, we are disappointed. His imagination seems to have been for nothing. But the prick of the finger on Zabladowski's hand proves it: Bartholomew's imagination has changed the real world. 

The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T, though terrifying, puzzling, and surreal, is rich in its promise about imagination. To many children, dreams are the only tool they can wield against a hard world they do not understand. In the world of Rowland and Suess, those dreams are a valid tool to be respected.

Adventure in Time Bandits

Time Bandits is a remarkable adventure story. Full of childlike exuberance, it propels the audience through multiple sets and time periods, each charged with peril, comedy, and intrigue. But Time Bandits is more than just a good story well told. It is a conversation about the importance of adventure in a childhood. As Kevin ventures from his home, learns different methods of adventure, and overcomes the fears and dangers of a wild world, he surpasses even his parents in maturity and understanding.

Kevin begins the film deep in the world of ‘society’. His disinterested parents care only for reality TV and modern kitchen appliances. Kevin cannot even stay awake and read a book. He is interested in the world of adventure, but cannot escape from his over controlling parents, who keep him far away from danger and the outside world. When the the time traveling dwarves come through the closet, it is a dream come true for Kevin. He will be able to escape from society, and explore the world he has always dreamed of.

Kevin soon discovers some of the challenges of the world of adventure. The dwarves, who hold immense power in their hands in the form of the time traveling map, want nothing more than to steal and plunder. In this world of adventure, morality suddenly becomes grey. While Kevin might never have stolen in the midst of his domestic life, stealing now seems like a good option. After all, Napoleon steals and plunders, and Robin Hood steals all of their hard earned gold from them. Kevin’s world view begins to change, and he makes choices that further his adventure, but are morally ambiguous.

The world of adventure is also constantly shifting. While Kevin experienced painfully consistent monotony at home, he now struggles to find any stability at all. Temporarily accepted in the ancient world as the son of King Agamemnon, Kevin hopes to stay forever. But the world of adventure will not allow for this level of domesticity and security. The dwarves return again, and steal him away from his home, throwing him into the midst of more adventure.

Finally, the world of adventure is full of evil. Natural evils, like the sinking Titanic, and organized maliciousness, personified in the character of Evil. These powerful forms of resistance, which Kevin had never faced in his domestic life, now threaten his survival. Kevin rises to the occasion. Tricking the ogre, drugging the giant, and making a plan to avoid Evil, Kevin uses tactics he learned from the dwarves to overcome these challenges. Though learned through a life of crime, Kevin has acquired skills that allow him to successfully combat his challenges.

At the end of the story, as is traditional in adventure narratives, Kevin returns home. Though the ending is slightly ambiguous, it is clear that Kevin’s adventure has affected his home. A piece of Evil has returned with Kevin back home. This eventually leads to the complete disintegration of his parents. Kevin is left in the ashes of his old life, parents gone, free from society. Though under normal circumstances, Kevin might have been helpless in this situation, Kevin is now equipped with the skills he learned from his adventure. Though he has suffered pains, effectively destroyed his own home, and bent his moral compass, Kevin has certainly learned and changed because of his adventures. Whether that growth is to his benefit or not is for the viewer to decide.

Morality in The Graveyard Book

Despite its macabre backdrop, Neil Gaiman’s The Graveyard Book is a classic bildungsroman, following the growth of a child to an adult. Nobody Owens, the child raised by ghosts, learns to navigate a complicated world of right and wrong. Like so many classic fairy tales, Nobody is safe at home in the graveyard, but meets a world of temptations outside of its gates. Only through exposure to this bleak world, combined with tutoring from loving mentors, is he able to mature.

From its outset, The Graveyard Book is remarkably black and white. The man Jack, and his compatriots, are the epitome of evil. They are the ‘wolves’ in the outside world, who constantly prey on Bod. Gaiman flips our expectations by conversely making the graveyard a place of love and security. Mr. and Mrs. Owens are loving parents, who do not hesitate to take care of Bod. The Lady in Grey is a saving angel, full of grace. Silas, though mysterious, is a capable and diligent caretaker. Gaiman even takes the classic images of the ravenous wolf and the wicked witch and turns them on their heads, presenting both Miss Lupesco and Liza as mentors and friends to Bod. The distinction between right and wrong is clear: the Jacks are outside the graveyard, in the wild world, and the ghosts are inside the graveyard, where it is safe.

Upon this classic stage, Gaiman presents a familiar story: the curious child, who strays from the path. Bod, like most children, is curious, becomes frustrated, and has his own dreams that go against the wishes of his guardians. He strays from the rules several times throughout the story, and each time is waylaid by evildoers. By the ghouls at the ghoul gate, Abanazer Bulger in the pawn shop, Mo and the policemen in town, and finally, the man Jack himself at his old house. Each of these times, if he had listened to reason and the words of his mentors, he would have avoided tragedy.

As Bod is consistently rescued from this situations, however, he learns. Were it not for the disaster at the ghoul gate, he may have never come to love Miss Lupesco. In the pawn shop, he learned to Fade, and his interactions with both Mo and the Jacks not only taught him to overcome his challenges, but how to change the world for good. The very climax of the story, where the man Jack is taken by the Sleer, could not have been accomplished were it not for Nobody’s knowledge of the tomb in the hill, a place he had been expressly forbidden to go.

The Graveyard Book is a classic tale of right and wrong, but one with an optimistic viewpoint. Nobody does live in a world of black and white, where straying from the path leads to danger, but it also leads to growth. There are losses along the way. Scarlet ultimately comes to fear Bod, and their relationship must end. Miss Lupesco must sacrifice herself to save him. But these losses lead to maturity. Bod learns to solve his own problems. He learns to love being around humans, to learn, and make a difference in the world. His desire to travel the world grows, as he prepares to leave the graveyard. Through trial and mentorship, Bod slowly learns to master a world of good and evil and leave childhood behind.

Online Response: Here Comes Science!

Anna would quickly tell you that since last Tuesday, They Might Be Giants has been shaking the walls of our studio apartment. The melodies of Science is Real, Meet the Elements, and both of the sun songs seem to be permanently stuck in my head. It's been fun to discover that it is not just good music to listen to and share, I am actually learning! Little facts from the lyrics stick with me, and I feel like a kid again, looking at the sun and the salt shaker in a whole new way.
The topic of inquiry has been one of my favorite so far. This Christmas I had the enlightening experience of visiting my brother and his wife in Boston. Anna and I attended church with them at the Cambridge ward, a small, tight nit congregation comprised mostly of ivy league professors. The experience was eye opening. Their Sunday School teachers tackle difficult topics with gusto, citing multiple sources from scriptures, church history documents, and scholars. In the third hour, we both experienced in depth questioning of basic gospel concepts, which in our ward, were mostly taken for granted. One of the older brothers in the ward said these profound words that I will never forget: there are a lot of people in this ward who have left the church. But no one left because they knew too much.
As conservative Mormons, I imagine that I may not have been the only one to initially cringe at Here Comes Science. Though I believe in evolution and the scientific method, such phrases as "the facts are with science. The truth is with science" and "my brother the ape" still seem irreverent to some degree. Would I really have my children listen to this? The answer, after brief yet meaningful contemplation, is a resounding yes. Like the members in Boston, my children will not abandon what they know to be true because they know too little. Quite the contrary. By encouraging inquiry, the honest quest for knowledge, we can assure ourselves that we will always find truth around us, and can be constantly learning from good sources.
My favorite part of Here Comes Science is 'The Sun is a Miasma'. I love that They Might Be Giants not only re-wrote the song to be more scientifically correct, but included it on the album with their first version. It teaches us an important truth about inquiry. It must always be happening, even in adults. More important than teaching us facts, Here Comes Science fills us with a sense of wonder, a desire to go out into the world, do research, perform tests, and discover truths on our own. The same can be said for 'Cathedral' and the other films we watched for home fun. None of them have the goal of being the definitive source of knowledge on their topic. They know that, due to the audience, they will only be giving a fraction of the information they could give. But this does not weaken the media, it strengthens it. By bringing up more questions than facts, inquiry based media encourages questioning and discovery rather than blind acceptance. Inquiry based media fills us with curiosity, rather than confirmation.
I have made a commitment to consume more media of this type in my own life. And just so you know, in my astronomy class I learned why the moon changes positions in the sky! You can ask me about it if you want...or just look it up on your own I suppose.

Online Response: Pinnocchio

Though I have watched Pinocchio several times and appreciated the incredible craft that went into that film, this was the first time I watched it with the education of children in mind. Though at first glance, Pinocchio appears to be an easily understood tale of black and white didacticism, I would argue that the story allows the children to identify with all of the characters on screen, even the villains. Though it pounds home clear moral lessons, it also teaches that everyone has their reasons.
The film Pinocchio has taken on greater meaning since reading the original story by Carlo Collodi. In the original tale, Pinocchio is a bitter child, who kicks Gepetto as soon as he has legs, and flees the home. Pinocchio consistently makes poor and selfish choices which lead to his own demise, and the role of the tempters in his life is minimized. Reminiscent of other old folk tales, such as Little Red Riding Hood, the blame is placed solely on the protagonist. He makes many mistakes, and must pay for them. Only when he begins to make good choices, does he become a 'real boy', and in effect, leaves the wooden form, a metaphor for his childhood.
Walt Disney changes the story in many ways. Pinocchio is easy to relate with for children and adults alike. He is naive and curious, but well meaning. When he makes mistakes, it is for the most part because he is deceived, though he is rather well meaning. Instead of killing the cricket early in the story, Disney's cricket faithfully follows Pinocchio through thick and thin, a constant mother/friend figure who dispenses advice and forgives Pinocchio quickly. The fox and cat, though certainly villainous, are also silly and are trying to make their way in the world. Stromboli is certainly mean, but he is a business man, who simply does not understand Pinocchio's needs. Lampwick, though a poor influence on Pinocchio, is a misguided child himself.
This makes for a difference in the way that morality is addresses in the story. Disney's Pinocchio is a story about how children can be buffeted about in a world of confusing messages, and must stay close to their parent figures or spiritual guides. In this light, I consider the film accurate in its teachings. Whenever Pinocchio stays close to his 'guides' or true friends, he is lead on the right path. Furthermore, even when he is lead astray, he is given the opportunity of coming back. In the end, he ultimately receives forgiveness, saves his family, and sheds his childhood ignorance. Though this story does not address problems of villains being within your family or friend group, it is effective at teaching moralism within a strong family structure.
What I feel like Pinocchio lacks is a praise of adventure. Though I know we are going to address this later on in the semester, it is disappointing to me that if Pinocchio were to always stay at home, it seems all he would ever do would be go to school. Though his adventures often get him into trouble, I believe that it is those very situations that teach him how to become a real boy. If he had not put his finger into the candle, he would have never though to smoke out the belly of the whale. Likewise, if Pinocchio had never gone from the beaten path, he may have never learned what he needed to finally receive the blessing from the blue fairy.

Online Response: Son of Rambow

As a child who grew up without a television, Son of Rambow felt eerily autobiographical. I too spent hours dressing up in costumes and throwing myself about the house, pretending to (complete with dialogue, theme music, and multiple episodes) destroy imaginary foes. For this reason, Son of Rambow was deeply instructive as it brought me back to a mindset that I had as a child. As a creative writer, I find that my maturity often leads to a pessimism that is at ends with the boundless optimisms I felt as a child. Son of Rambow helped taught me again some of the truths I knew as a child.
I believe that this is one of the main purposes of this film. Son of Rambow and other films about young children, but which are intended to be viewed by teens or adults, are instructive in that they can bring us back to the worldview we may have had as a child. As discussed in class, lots of children media has the opposite goal: of helping children to understand the experience of adults. The value of this is greatly important as we mature. We may, however, discount the value of a piece of art which can take us back to the things we learned as a child. From this purer, more curious perspective, our more mature hearts may learn anew.
Son of Rambow is full of this exuberant child-like energy. The animations appear hand drawn. The almost magical aesthetic of the film is representative of the way in which children see opportunities in the world, as opposed to limitations. For film makers, the film is particularly enjoyable. Many of those who work in film have fond memories of the first films they made as youth. Though it is comical to see the kids in Son of Rambow mimic the work ethic and lingo of adult filmmaking, this scene may serve a deeper purpose. In the capitalistic pressure of the film industry, that child-like exuberance is lost. When we take a moment to learn from children, and learn from art made by children, it may help us to focus on the creative aspect of art as opposed to its marketability.
Finally, the virtue of forgiveness and friendship is expounded in Son of Rambow. This is perhaps one of the most pure memories of childhood. In many ways, this film, like many other films about children, are drawing upon a nostalgic childhood that never existed. As Baudrillard might say, our desire to return to childhood is to return to an simulacrum, a fake reality that never actually existed. Though I do believe this plays into the charm of Son of Rambow and others like it, I simultaneously believe that it can teach us of the joy and exuberance of childhood. Son of Rambow is not just a movie to be enjoyed by kids, it as a movie to teach us about the joys of childhood and childlike imagination.