Catching Fire (and a few other film bits)

Earlier this month, I indicated that probably the thing I wanted most for Christmas is time. Our wonderful nanny gave us exactly that last night, as her Christmas present to us was to take our girls for the evening so that Lauren and I could go out.

Date night found us at the local movie theater watching Catching Fire. Back in 2010, after our first daughter was born, we found ourselves driving a lot--in part to show off the first grandchild on both sides--and one of the things we did a lot of was listen to audiobooks together, including the entire Hunger Games series, which kept us so rapt that we would find ourselves sitting out in the driveway after we had arrived somewhere, waiting to finish the chapter.

So how was the film adaptation? Especially given my recent comments denigrating the ability of film as a medium to do book adaptations (vs. the television series format)?

It was really, really good. Really.

I should say that it's been a solid three years or more since I  read this book, which in some ways is probably a good distance from which to view a film version, because my comparison between the two is mediated by the fraying strands of memory. And I haven't seen The Hunger Games since it was on the big screen in... whenever that was. But we both thought the film version of Catching Fire really nailed it.

It worked as an adaptation, hitting all the main points of the book. But it also worked as a film (which in this case is ultimately more important). The writers resisted any urges they may have had to over-write the script, instead managing a perfectly understated script that allowed the actors to act, and with all the talent in this film, they could certainly be relied upon to carry the film, to bring the characters to life and tell the story without any more words than were necessary.

Also, from the previews, another YA dystopian book-into-film series looks like it could be solid, as we saw the preview for Divergent. I've still only read the first two books in that series, but the film looked really good (as much as we can draw any conclusions from a preview!). I, Frankenstein, on the other hand, looked pretty terrible. I could be wrong, and I thought I saw some potential in there, but just based on the preview, it will not be a date-night movie. It will not be seen at the drive-in. And we probably won't rent it. If we hear good things, we might bring ourselves around to watching it on Netflix some day in the far-off future. No promises, though. Pompeii? If you were to say to me "You know nothing, John Sherck," I would have to agree--I have no idea if this movie is going to be rotten or righteous, but I'll bet I would like it better if it was based on the Robert Harris novel Pompeii, which I'm pretty sure it's not.

Orson Scott Card and Ender's Game

There’s been a fair bit of controversy on-line about Card, in the wake of the Ender’s Game film adaptation, focusing on Card’s “anti-gay” comments and his support of the anti-gay-marriage agenda. I guess one question in here is whether Card is really “anti-gay” because he opposes gay marriage. He has said on more than one occasion that he is not "homophobic" or "anti-gay," and that he has a number of gay friends. But he's strongly against gay marriage, and it seems to me that it really is hard to do the mental gymnastics that say that marriage should be reserved to heterosexual couples without in some way denigrating gays. If there isn’t something “wrong” with their relationship, if it isn’t in some way inferior, then why do we have to defend the “traditional” view of marriage (so-called, of course, since a more traditional view would be that marriage is between one man and multiple women, for instance).

I guess I’m going to dodge the issue a bit, by thinking about Card as an artist. Here’s the thing: I think Ender’s Game is a pretty brilliant book. And I think Speaker for the Dead is even better. This is some of his earliest work, and it’s great. There’s some other good stuff he’s written too, but more and more of his more recent stuff just seems flat by comparison. What I see in his earlier work is more of what Keats thought of as Negative Capability, which in fiction sows up as an ability to present vivid characters with relatively complex viewpoints interacting in what seems like a fairly natural way. More and more in his more recent work, Card seems to have axes to grind, points to score, and to my way of thinking that approach is far from brilliant. I suspect that it has a lot to do with his Mormonism. I don’t know if he was more “liberal” in his beliefs when he was younger, or if he was just a better writer, in the sense I’m thinking of it, but he really seemed more agnostic then, and his writing was better for it. Even if he wasn’t agnostic, I think maybe he was more in touch with people who believed differently than he did.

I remember in his forward to Speaker for the Dead, writing about the way that people have different relationships with and behave differently around different people and groups of people; he pointed to the way that as a college student (I think; maybe high school) he would do summer theater while living at home, and with his theater friends he swore like a sailor, while at home he was perfectly inoffensive in his speech. And I just wonder if in his younger days he wasn’t more in touch with a broader life, while as he’s aged he’s tended to be more around people who agree with him—or even who tacitly enforce certain norms on him—as well as living a more unified life. I can even identify, in a sense: as a youth, I was two people—one and home and one among my peers, but now that I’m an adult, I am more or less myself in all circumstances. Does that, perhaps, limit Card in certain ways?

I suspect the answer is yes. He still spins a pretty good story, but I haven't seen anything from him in quite a long time that I would call brilliant. And, returning to his stance on gay marriage, I suspect this, too, is a case of living in the echo chamber of his own religion and its implicit or explicit enforcement of moral norms. But I don't know Card personally and I recognize what a joke it is to think that I can psychoanalyze him from a distance and have any hope of being "right" about what moves him to say/write/do anything in particular. But part of being human, I think, is that we all have a right to our own opinions, no matter how tenuously based in actual knowledge they may be.

Oh, speaking of opinions and returning to the film: it was good for what it is--a film. It looked good, and it was close enough to the original, but it sorely lacks the depth of the novel (or of Ender's Shadow). It reinforces my belief that any book that's worth anything, if it's going to be translated to the screen it should probably become a television series. A Game of Thrones and its sequels, The Pillars of the Earth, World Without End: they've all been better than any film adaptation could have been (the exception just might be The Hobbit, which should have just been one film, not three; two, tops).

It did make me want to go back and re-read the book, which I suppose is a positive for the film.

The Season of Disbelievin'

Our oldest daughter, at just-under-3, is still at the age where she's a believer in just about anything. Santa? Check. Minga Madinga, her Elf on the Shelf? Absolutely. The inherent awesomeness of her parents? Most of the time. Well, sometimes. If we're not denying her a toy, making her use the potty, turning off the TV/computer/iPod, trying to get her to eat, or generally engaging her when she's cranky (which, at almost-3, seems to be much of the time).

But anyway: belief. She's got it in spades. She sort of had some idea about Santa Claus last year, as being something more than just the terrifying overlord of the mall, sitting on his throne with minions taking pictures. This year, she pretty well gets it: Santa's the guy bringing toys (also, less positively, the guy who's going to take away her pacifiers and give them to younger children).

The thing I've realized as I watch her watching Christmas movies is how many of them deal actively with the subject of belief and--noticeably--disbelief. From animated Disney movies to live-action features, there's often a character saying "Santa Claus isn't real" or "There's no such thing as elves," or whatever. And, of course, like doubting Thomas, the characters on the screen get incredibly tangible proof to back up the reality of the pro-magical-Christmas crowd's claims.

I have to wonder, though: what about the kids (which is to say, pretty much all of them) who don't get to meet a talking dog who's Santa's best friend, or see a magical elf, or receive a visit from Santa himself? In other words, what I'm asking is: what's my daughter seeing in these movies? Do the disbelievers' assertions make any dent, in what is otherwise completely unchallenged belief?

Turning 90 degrees from there, I wonder if there's a sense in which Santa Claus is actually great preparation for atheism? Think about it. Most of us growing up with Santa Claus have first-hand experience with believing in a mythical being, which other people tell us is real, and then face the inevitable moment of disillusionment. We all get practice at what it's like to become an atheist, as we become an atheist with regard to Santa Claus. And the Tooth Fairy. And the Easter Bunny.

I suppose, as with any good whopper, we can always find ways to believe if we want to. "Yes Virginia, there is a Santa Claus..." As long as you can be as equivocal about the meaning of "is" as Bill Clinton was, then yes, there "is" a Santa Claus.

Summer Cinema

Recently, two movies we'd ordered from Netflix kept each other company for three months or so. Although I haven't done a cost-benefit analysis, something tells me that providing semi-permanent decorations for the top of our entertainment center is probably not the best use we could be making of our Netflix subscription.

That, of course, was during the school year. Now that we have two months of summer stretching out before us, we may be able to make up for lost time and, indeed, we've started that process, aided and abetted by a purchase I made back in the spring for the benefit of the cadets in my barrack. One of my fellow Counselors had suggested the Epson MovieMate projector/DVD player, and it turned out to be a very popular purchase. With a bit of clear wall space or a hung sheet, my boys can have big-screen experiences in the lounge or their own rooms, watching DVDs, movies from their computer, or hooking up their game systems for big-screen tournaments. All very well and good, but now it's summer and the projector needs a home. It's like the class hamster: somebody has to take care of it over vacation (and it cannot be flushed if care is not provided). So it's up to me to bear that burden.

Last night we watched Pandorum on our own big screen, streamed from Netflix without even getting a DVD in the mail. Between our two DVD allotment and the ability to watch many movies and TV shows instantly, I suspect we will be making up for lost time this summer, especially since I'm not working at a job as such and the research Lauren's doing up at Notre Dame is something she can leave behind at the end of the day. Now, if we can just get our girl to bed at a reasonable hour each night....

Note: we will need to go to the drive-in at least once this summer, to see a certain movie that comes out July 15.