Lots and Lots of Types of Days


On Thursday night, I settled down on the sofa to watch a random film picked by my housemates called About Time. Here are some thoughts from online reviews:

‘Almost everything that is frustrating about the film is also counterbalanced by moments of thoughtfulness and insightfulness’

‘About Time may well be the two most pleasurable hours I’ve spent in the cinema all year’

‘Curtis has managed to achieve the impossible. Specifically: he has gone back to 1993 and remade Groundhog day with a ginger Hugh Grant’

The start is reminiscent of Wimbledon (2003), set in a warm, family country house in Cornwall and similar in many ways throughout (foolish, fumbling Brit meets smooth and charming American girl etc). But the big difference is that in the opening five minutes, you find out Tim (our protagonist) can time travel – a genetic gift that is passed down from father to son. I thought I wouldn’t last half an hour. I hate time travelling films.

But Domnhall Gleeson’s witty and awkward character kept me watching.

Tim travels back in time to change small things: the girl he kisses at a New Year’s party, the way he charms his sisters best friend. At the beginning, Tim’s time travelling is self centered and focused on finding himself a girlfriend. But after a few failed attempts at altering history, Tim realizes that ‘all the time travelling in the world can’t make someone fall in love with you’.

So he moves to London to become a lawyer. Where he meets Mary and falls in love, they get pregnant, and eventually get married. I mean eventually, because there is SO much time travelling that even though it’s not a particularly long film you feel like you’ve watched it twice. But there is a moment burned into my memory at the end of their wedding day (which is an absolute wash out with the wind blowing over their marquee) when Tim turns to Mary and says:


Tim: ‘Do you wish we’d picked another less wet day?’

Mary: ‘No. Not for the world.’

Tim: And so it begins.Lots and lots of types of days.


That was the start of the true meaning of the film for me. The beauty that is found in lots and lots of types of days, with mishaps and mistakes and laughter and the people you love. Tim’s Dad gives him some advice – to live each day, and then travel back and live it again almost exactly the same but this time appreciating all the tiny, hidden, wonderful things. And as Tim and Mary have children and life grows more chaotic, Tim stops travelling back in time because he learns to see the beauty in each moment as it comes.


How true that there are hidden graces everywhere. The blossom on the trees, the way people look at each other when they have been married 30 years and are still in love, the first sip of tea and bite of toast in the morning. Tiny hidden moments like these are all around us, undemanding, unnoticed. Together they make up the cacophony of life that overwhelms our senses. Sometimes just noticing the little things is enough to make us wonder at the life we have been given to live, and who on earth it is that gives us breath.


Sherlock’s Hell


Andrew Scott as Jim Moriarty in BBC Sherlock


Yesterday’s Sherlock episode was an absolute thriller. I sat on the edge of my seat with my neck craned out for most of the hour and a half. Cinematographer Steve Lawes has worked extremely hard to tell a story through every single shot and in doing so, he has made most other TV productions look like low budget, ill thought through A level projects. He is a truly a master of his trade and it is a wonder to behold.

But one thing left me thinking once the credits rolled. And no, it wasn’t ‘how is Morairty still alive’. It was why on earth does Sherlock almost end up in the same place as Moriarty when he gets shot? Steve Lawes navigates us seemlessly through Sherlock’s intricate mind palace right after he gets shot, until Sherlock knows that his only hope is to focus on a comforting thought to prevent himself from going into shock and dying– he remembers his dog redbeard. But he realises that he is losing consciousness anyway and groans ‘ they’re putting me down too’ before slumping to the ground. He then starts convulsing and Watson tries in vain to wake him up back in the apartment. And instead of walking through a dark tunnel towards a bright light, Sherlock in his unconscious state, hurtles down a bright, floodlit staircase into a warmly lit, padded cell.  The only darkness in this scene is Sherlock himself, shrouded in his black overcoat.

And who should be in the cell but Jim Morairty, wrapped in a dirty white straight jacket, handcuffs and a neck chain tied to the wall. This is Sherlock’s hell, inside his own mind palace. And he thinks that in death, he will end up in the same place as his archenemy. How awful and terrifying! To think that Sherlock’s life on earth will ultimately lead him to the same dank dungeon that a serial killer inhabits. Have his endeavors to solve the toughest crimes led to no plush heaven, no comfy sofa in the sky, no rest from evil?

I think in our society, death hangs behind us like a shadow. We dare not turn around for fear of acknowledging its existence. And we dare not speak of it incase our words convince us of its inescapability. So we run on blindly, scrabbling for anything that might cut the shadow away. Utlimately, though we refuse to speak of death’s attachment to life, we cannot run hard or far or long enough to escape it. Sherlock’s mind palace image of Morairty was a man who had embraced death and it had led him to a padded cell and chains. Death is the one great inevitable. Its just a shame that Sherlock thinks hell is inevitable too. A gracious God ready to accept all who turn to him for forgiveness is an idea not compatible with Sherlock’s self-sufficiency and pride. I wonder where the similarities lie in our own society, and whether there is any room left for the hope of heaven in our hearts.

An Act of True Love


November 1st, 2013 @ 20:51:56

A couple of days before I went to see Frozen with my parents and twin sister my Dad claimed that the cinemas had been told to bring the temperature of their air conditioning down by a few degrees to pull people in to the icy world Disney had created. We all thought he was joking.

I am SO glad I took a coat and scarf with me. It was a really cold night, that’s the only reason I did it. But turns out it was absolutely Baltic inside theatre screen 11 and none of us took any of our outer garments off the entire time. We should take my Dad at his word more often.

The film itself was marvelous. The researchers had done a lot of hard work (apparently visiting Wyoming, Quebec, Canada and Norway in order to properly understand and portray scenes of a winter nature) and that was evident. The thing that most impressed me was the snow on people’s clothes, especially when Kristoff first walks into the mountain shop.  Visual animators often talk about representing a world so that it’s believable rather than offering a realistic world to the viewer. But that snow was as real as my left thumb. Bravo.

The storyline itself was surprising. I was left wondering whether we would be forced to watch another ‘classic’ love triangle between Anna, Hans and Kristoff. After Twilight and the Hunger Games I feel this has been slightly overdone. Kristoff’s reaction when Anna tells him she is engaged to a man she has only just met is hilarious and broke the love triangle tension a bit – he obviously thought she was an absolute fruit loop.

But when the rock trolls pronounce that the only thing that will save Anna’s life is an act of true love I presumed we were on the one way road to feature film clichés again. As Kristoff ran hell-for-leather on a lake of ice to reach Anna before she froze I couldn’t help but not care. I presumed he would reach her, kiss her, kill Hans and generally save the day. The whole film had been building up to this point and I felt disappointed.

Thank goodness it never happened. Anna chooses to save her sister and sacrifice herself instead of feeling the pleasure of love’s first kiss. She kills herself in order to save another. And this act of true love is what ends up saving her life and saving her sister from bitter destruction as well. Disney portrayed love as an action, instead of a moment on the lips or a well choreographed catchy duet. The audience got their kiss at the end of the film as Kristoff and Anna lived happily ever after. But I left the cinema feeling hopeful that a reflection of true love had been represented pretty well for once.

‘Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends’ John 15:13

On bad films, and films with bad things in…



I watched a terrible film recently. Truly awful. Even though it had Dominic Cooper, Hattie Morahan and Dan Stevens in, it was irritatingly mind numbing, like a GCSE play that you friend is in and you know you have to sit through. Except I didn’t sit through it, I turned it off half way through.

Now there was nothing particularly offensive in that film. There was no blood, no gore, no real swearing, no sex (well up until the bit where I turned it off, I can’t comment on the second half…). But it got me thinking – when is it OK to turn a film off?

Would you turn a film off because it had violence in? Because there were scenes of a ‘naked or sexual nature’? What about if there was destruction? Is it ungodly to watch films with outlandish sin in? What about watching a film that reveals the effects of sin? Where are the boundaries? What are the rules?

I asked a friend who was over to supper last night and she mentioned watching a ‘bad’ film recently – bad because of the content of it, not the quality.  I said would it be bad to make a film about cancer? Cancer is an effect of the fall. It’s an effect of man putting two fingers up to God. Cancer isn’t good. So would you watch a film about it? ‘Well yeah’ came the response, ‘but I guess its not all bad, good things can be seen through it’. Then we chatted about what can be classed as ‘biblical’ in a film. The Old Testament, if it was made into a proper film, would be rated 18. Rape, murder, adultery, Philistine foreskins being traded for peace. You name it, it’s in there. Its dark and murderous and evil, ‘every inclination of the thought’s of man’s heart was only evil all the time’. The Bible is not PG. And yet God’s plan for salvation shines through the broken fragments of a fallen world.

Fragments of good can be seen through the darkest of scenarios. Reflections of glory can be hungered after in the depths of suffering. Light is sometimes recognised in it’s absence, rather than its presence.  In the midst of the plagues of Egypt God calls His people to freedom from slavery. In the brokenness of rebellion God pursues His Church like an unrelenting husband. In Golgotha, the place of the skull, Jesus Christ defeated death.

So next time you watch a film that shocks you, think about it. What is the darkness revealing? Where is the light shining through? What is good and God-glorifying about this film? How does it reflect the image of the God who made us? How does it make me hunger after my Redeemer?

NB: I am not advocating a blind, undiscerning attitude to watching films. Last lent I game up Rom Coms – click here to see why.

The Hunger Games: We are Not District 12.


This time last year I read the Hunger Games trilogy in three days. As N.D. Wilson describes it ‘the books grab like gorilla glue’. However, that is about the only thing I agreed with in Wilson’s review of the trilogy. And I was bitterly disappointed. I love him as a writer and think that he has his finger on the pulse of society’s culture at the moment. Which is why I just could not fathom how he could infer that Suzanne Collins has profoundly misunderstood human societies, ‘arbitrarily forcing a group or character into decisions and actions they would never choose for themselves given the preceding narrative’.   Excuse me while I check if we were reading the same book. What is N D on about? This short blog is an imperfect attempt to counter Wilson’s argument and explain why I think Collins has fundamentally captured the state of society today.

I hate to say this, as I feel claiming that someone is such always leaves the writer bereft of affection in the reader’s eyes, but I think N D Wilson is naïve in his portrayal of a hero. He wants a Gladiator like demi-god to step into the Hunger Games, with all of Plutarch’s defiance and Coin’s self-assurance. Instead we get a teenage girl who just wanted to save her sister, and who ends up killing people to live. You’re right, that is messed up. And its not what we hoped for. We don’t like the fact that she plays at all in the Hunger Games. And we aren’t supposed to!

N D Wilson is right, she is self-centered. She is a puppet for much of the second book, and quite far into the third. She is controlled by others, whether that be the capitol or District 13. No, the teenager who was plucked out of the arena at the end of Catching Fire, half collapsed is not the perfect hero. Wilson is right that Katniss disappoints us from the off by entering into the first arena, and then the second. But as Mike Cosper states in his response to Wilson, Maximus (Wilson’s ‘better’ hero from the Gladiator) disappoints as well -a general of the Roman army, an experienced soldier, and a tactician both on and off the battlefield. He would have known how to kill men, and a lot of them. If he is the pure hero who refused to enter into the game of the oppressors Wilson was appealing to, I think he was looking in the wrong place, especially since Maximus is motivated not for some greater good, but to seek vengeance – see ‘husband of a murdered wife’ speech for evidence. Not quite the Christ-model we wanted either.

Something I think Wilson’s review missed, but Cosper touched on slightly, was the culture of the Capitol and the Districts. Wilson wants a classic dark vs light plot, he wants his Gandalf and his Dumbledore and his Lucy, Edmund, Susan and Peter. But what we are given in The Hunger Games is surely a more realistic portrayal of a revolutionary. And that is why I think Wilson is fundamentally flawed in his critique of the books. Collins knows us well. It doesn’t take a genius to look up, outside of our safe Western bubble and see countries like Syria – wrestling for revolution and seemingly failing. Libya, torn apart by factions and fighting, Egypt, swinging between the goodies and the baddies except no one knows which one is which. If you want the perfect revolution then you have chosen the wrong world. There is only one man who was good and his name is Jesus. To look for the ultimate hero in a character who is merely displaying the full palette of human sinfulness and a rare spark of god-likeness is like looking for a cheerio in a bowl you know is only full of Weetabix. Katniss is not meant to be Christ. She is a brilliant portrayal of every weak thought, every misguided naivity and every bold defiance that the human race is capable of. And the society that Collins paints for us is a brilliant mish-mash of light and dark, exactly like real life.

The Hunger Games are sick – and yet scarily realistic. I’m a Celebrity, Jeremy Kyle, Dr Phil, Big Brother, America’s Next Top Model. What is the aim of these programmes? Entertainment at the suffering of someone on a screen. Sometimes we are entertained by their joy, but most of all we are entertained when they are hurting or hurting someone else. The only difference in the Hunger Games is that the reality TV show is used to muster fear not pleasure. One step away. Same Games, different motive. Same people watching. The truth of the matter is, we are not District 12 longing for a hero to save us from oppression. Most of us watching the Hunger Games fit into the Capitol with our crazy hair, stupid make up and unthinkable fashion. If a Katniss came along to take away our ‘pleasure’, we would probably sue her because we demand our rights up here in the Capitol.

My point is that Suzanne Collins has painted a society that is too close to the bone for some of us to realize what she is saying. We are longing for a hero when most of the time we are the ones oppressing the Districts and enabling the Games. We need a Katniss to shoot an an arrow through the apple in our stuffed pig. What I fear, is that when society takes the step of using our reality games to muster power, division and fear, we won’t realize what is happening.  We’ll be as blind as the Capitol.

I vividly remember being at a dinner party once with a Serbian friend who warned us of a dangerous pride. She said, ‘You think you are safe sitting here in your ‘civilised’ country. But my country drowned in its war very quickly. We thought we were civilized too, but then brother turned on neighbor and it all changed.’ And Rwandan friends say the same thing. Don’t think it won’t happen to you in the West – when humans start fighting the depths of sinful darkness spreads out like black ink that cannot be recovered. Civil war might not break out here, but I wouldn’t be at all surprised if we started putting a little more danger in our reality games for the sake of the viewers. And when the government wants to inspire fear where are they going to turn – to the thing we are all addicted to, our televisions. Albert Einstein said once ‘I fear the day technology will surpass our human interaction. The world will have a generation of idiots.’ We are sleep walking into that idiocy.

To return to Katniss, she is not the Christ-like figure we look for. She is an imperfect hero who stands up against a regime for right and wrong reasons. She is a girl torn by the desire to preserve life and preserve herself. She is a woman haunted by the things she has done and the things done to her. She is a person hurting from the pain inflicted on the people she loves and wanting justice to be done. And the great affliction for her and us as readers at the end of the book is that we haven’t moved from dystopia to utopia. Things are still broken. Everything is fragile. In 2013 we don’t have colosseums to watch the expendable killing each other. We do it on TV’s with words. In 2000 years we haven’t moved from dystopia to utopia, we are in a mess. And we need a perfect Saviour to remove our iniquities and peel away this shadow to reveal the new world that’s waiting.