It seemed just a few years ago I was laughing my head off (not literally) at Mr. Bean’s antics—the Brit “formal bum” and the comedian playing him (Rowan Atkinson) need no introduction. I’ve never forgotten how he reacted when he pulled the wrong exam paper from his envelope, tried to pop a sweet in church… and even went swimming and got his trunks lifted (you’ll never believe how). I could go on, but I’ll get to the point—do five-minute comedy sketches make for a good ninety-minute movie?
I thought the answer was yes when I saw 2002’s Bean: the Ultimate Disaster Movie, in which Mr. Bean is picked to go to Los Angeles by the museum that hires him as a security guard; they want him to pose as an art expert in the unveiling of Whistler’s Mother.
Cue laughs. Cue Bean cluelessly walking into the shower while his American host is inside—and while he tries to push Bean out the phone rings. Picking it up, Bean replies to the caller, “David? Yes, he’s in the shower with me.” And Bean desperately trying to save the painting after smudging ink on it (Watch it on DVD! Just watch it!).
Yep, I loved Mr. Bean’s first outing. So when Mr. Bean’s Holiday came out this year I grabbed my brother, cousins and five tickets to see it. After all, this is supposedly Atkinson’s last outing as Bean. After all, there’s already been a great first movie. Surely in Atkinson’s and writer Richard Curtis’s expert hands, Bean 2 will give us more of the Bean-formula. Right? Would it rise above the curse of sequel-itis, it having been five years?
Wrong. Never in my life had I felt so tempted to walk out of a movie.
Because, Mr. Curtis, we’re supposed to believe situations like the one Bean finds himself in can actually happen. What made the first film work so well was the knowledge that Bean is such a horrible worker his employers at the art gallery would really plot to get rid of him, and the comedy that results when Bean just will not take things lying down. Even the scene where Bean saves a wounded policeman is entirely in character for him—situations, characters, and solutions all make a weird, Mr. Bean-esque sense. We sympathise with him, for all the right reasons.
Bean 2 throws it all away. The storyline opens promisingly enough, with Bean taking a camcorder with him on a holiday to France. When he asks a man on the Channel train platform to film him boarding it, he takes so long the train moves off without the stranger. Unknown to Bean, the man’s son is on board… and it turns out he’s a director, and the family is on their way to the Cannes Film Festival. Bean knows big-scale public trouble, and I was thrilled… for all of five minutes.
Then comes the scene where he leaves his passport behind on a public phone. I felt like going to the toilet and never coming back; aren’t there services on French railways that deal with such an eventuality? And the storyline contortions the writers had to throw in to keep the jokes flowing were just too much for me to digest.
Bean’s bus ticket to Cannes blowing out of his mouth, and getting caught on the keg of a chicken he has to chase through the French countryside. (Couldn’t he have explained things to the driver who was right in front of him, and bought another?)
Not a very good exit for a character I grew up knowing and watching every chance I got.
But why am I bringing this up? Because the same thing is happening with The Simpsons.
Now Channel 5 seems to have an on-again, off-again relationship with the yellow-skinned characters who, again, need no introduction. I only ever saw a very few episodes, and the Powers That Be seemed to take great delight in putting the show on Sunday evenings, a timeslot they could hijack with movies, event coverage like Powerboat racing in Marina Bay (I’m not kidding) and whatever caught their fancy.
In short, The Simpsons isn’t a very Singapore-friendly show, and the feeling was mutual.
But the MDA seems to have relaxed a bit (I hope) and allowed The Simpsons Movie in, which I’ll watch tonight with a heart of eager hope. Will it be any good? Seems reviews have all been positive, and I really, really hope I won’t be disappointed this time. Bean 2 left an awful taste in my mouth; hopefully Homer, Marge, Bart, Lisa and Maggie will wash it out and replace it with the radioactively-cool sweetness that can only come from watching Homer get pummeled over and over again.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
War books, condemnation, update
God has the heart of an infantryman.
Don’t believe me? If you believe the Bible to be the Word of God, read on. If you think someone conjured up the stories in it, do go on to the next book I review—that’s strictly secular. Because this is a Christian book, from the viewpoint of a follower of God wherever He may lead. Into the US Marine Corps, into war with Iraqi insurgents, and into the brutal firefight on the night of April 10th, 2003.
But for those who pray and hope daily for God’s continued protection over American and other coalition forces currently fighting terrorism wherever it lurks, there’s Lieutenant Carey H. Cash’s A Table in the Presence. Which is the sort of thing that reminds us of the horrifying necessity of war… and the ability of God to protect, guide and border on the miraculous.
Note the Lieutenant part; Cash is no stranger to combat. He writes his experiences of the first month spent at war in Iraq, as chaplain of the First Battalion, Fifth Marine Regiment. It’s a fun read; but not in the sense of a thriller novel, or a beginning-to-end treatise. It’s the insights of a man on the ground who knows what he’s talking about; as a chaplain, I guess you grow quickly when the injured, dying and dead begin to come in.
(Indeed, I can’t remember the last war memoir I actually read cover to cover. The best way, I’ve found out, is to read the first chapter, then the last, and flip over everything in between for incidents that shock, incidents that catch your eye and stand out amid the lines and lines of narrative. They reward multiple readthroughs—a war memoir is a lot of things, and I’ve often got more by skimming time and again rather than digesting right from the start. The former is fun and allows more focus on people rather than figures and dates… precisely the intent of the writers who set out to chronicle the struggles, cheers, victories and devastations of men in combat.)
I have a deep respect for the United States Marines, and this book takes pains to show the religious dimension of the men who fight, kill and (sometimes) die to take down Saddam Hussein’s government and the continued insurgency. It isn’t often you find a Christian book like Cash has written, a book that gets down and dirty and shows a side to the gospel beyond the current state of American Christianity—a gospel for men who go to war, who get down and dirty with sand, blood and rifle oil… and may not come back alive. Cash relates at length the worship services he led with the unit, and the Marines who came to him for spiritual guidance and help with their faith. For God can and does work even on battlefields, laying a table in His presence. Note that warriors didn’t—and still don’t—have time to prepare a table before meals. The act of laying a table before me in the presence of my enemies is simply impossible with men… but Cash never tires of pointing out it is quite possible with God.
We read about the Marine who walked nearly a kilometre along possible enemy-patrolled territory to reach Cash for a Saturday worship service.
We read about the captain, his driver and assistants who shared a green leather Bible that fell off their vehicle, then lay there on a road exposed to a murderous sandstorm, armoured troop carriers driving all over it, and a freezing Iraqi night… only to be found, unscathed, by the very man who lost it.
The mysterious, unmarked assault vehicles that appeared on an overpass, shielding the Marines from even worse incoming fire… and the fact the unit’s operations officer tried, to no avail, to identify them after the battle of April 10th.
God protects His people, but at the same time Cash pauses to reflect on losses. Where was this protection for the Marines grievously injured, and the men who succumbed or were outright killed? “If [a simple answer] existed, we would probably not want to hear it,” he admits.
To Christians: you won’t find a more honest, reflective yet unflinching look at the war in Iraq than this book. Cash doesn’t shy away from difficult questions—he faced them every day, more than the people who ask them. For a Christian perspective on the war and the men who fight it, go read it. Now.
To unbelievers: no matter where you may be on the faith spectrum, the miraculous can and does happen, as a Marine battalion found out in the face of the enemy. That’s all you have to know—you may not agree with Cash’s conclusions, but something happened that night that, as Josh McDowell titled his book, forms evidence that demands a verdict.
#
To the amazon.com reviewer who panned this book—yes, the one-star reviewer who titled his opinion piece A plumb line to Jesus, I’m talking to you—Cash believes in a God who realises that evil exists, and is good enough to empower human beings to defeat it. I’ll quote a small section of the review:
He does not, however, address the obvious question -- where was his enemies' god while Cash's god was thumpin' the snot outa them? Even if we assume that the 1st Battalion was fighting non-religious Iraqi regulars that day, many battles have since ensued involving devout Muslims (terrorists and non-terrorists alike) fighting against American forces. So where IS their god? Is Allah a lesser god? A weaker god? Or, shall we follow Cash to his logical conclusion and assume Allah could not be a "real" god at all because the "real" god is out there supporting the USA?
This is the old evil-exists-so-there-can’t-be-a-good-God argument, an empirically very powerful one I must say. But is this reviewer arguing for atheism or Islam?
And Cash doesn’t make a “logical” conclusion—the book simply takes the Christian God’s existence for granted, and works from there. Kinda like the Bible... and the Bible also tells of a God who takes sides and punishes evil. He has used other nations to do this and judge His people Israel. So why not the USA today?
Americans don’t suicide bomb.
Americans don’t ram airliners into two of the tallest buildings of other countries.
And they sure don’t riot in the streets over mere cartoons. Given this, which side would the God of the Bible stand with? Read Isaiah. Read the Proverbs. And the words of Jesus Himself.
Plus, plus, plus... THEY WERE ATTACKED. It’s only natural Cash will bring his Christian thought into examining the situation—do you really expect him to say what you want him to, that the Islamists have as much of a god as he does? I doubt he could have made any other point.
I haven’t even touched on the intellectual arguments yet... so the aforementioned reviewer would do well to rein that, um... intolerance in.
#
“No, no, no—watch his hand!”
-- Last words of Corporal Jason L. Dunham, USMC
My brother finally found, in the sometimes maddening labyrinth they call the Central Lending Library, Michael M. Phillips’s book The Gift of Valor.
Valor isn’t so much a memoir as it is a memorial, and its cover shows that much; an M16 rifle stuck barrel first in the ground, a helmet resting on its stock. On April 14, 2004, Congressional Medal of Honor (Posthumous) winner Corporal Jason L. Dunham cupped his helmet over an Iraqi grenade and lay down on it as it went off. Two nearby Marines were seriously injured, but lived.
Dunham didn’t die instantly. His skull was smashed open by grenade fragments, and he quickly lapsed into a coma from which he never awoke. His parents made the decision to take him off life support eight days later.
Valor may revolve around Dunham and his heroism, but that’s only a small part of its account—we read of the actions of Dunham’s unit, the Marine leadership, and the reactions of Dunham’s fellow townspeople in Scio, New York. Fellow soldiers and casualties are touched over throughout the narrative, and Phillips doesn’t mince words. The man was a hero, but no Marine fights alone.
It’s not a Historical Work nor a thesis. It’s the story of Dunham, his unit, his family, and the aftermath of April 14. It doesn’t matter whether you’re for or against the Iraqi campaign—the focus here is not on issues, but on people. My kind of war writer, my kind of book. The type that should get you on your knees in prayer.
I’ll quote Norman Vincent Peale—he said this on Hitler Came for Niemoeller, but it sure applies here: “If a man can read this and not be stirred to his depths, it is because he has no depths.”
#
So there's going to be a sequel to Condemned, aka. The Game With a Protagonist Who Cannot Even Crouch. I'm not holding my breath—much the only horror in the first game was how shoddily it played. (See my extended review earlier in this blog.)
#
Andrew’s hourly updates have stopped coming... because he’s made great recovery progress. He’s out of danger, conscious again, and off his anaesthesia. Praise God!
Don’t believe me? If you believe the Bible to be the Word of God, read on. If you think someone conjured up the stories in it, do go on to the next book I review—that’s strictly secular. Because this is a Christian book, from the viewpoint of a follower of God wherever He may lead. Into the US Marine Corps, into war with Iraqi insurgents, and into the brutal firefight on the night of April 10th, 2003.
But for those who pray and hope daily for God’s continued protection over American and other coalition forces currently fighting terrorism wherever it lurks, there’s Lieutenant Carey H. Cash’s A Table in the Presence. Which is the sort of thing that reminds us of the horrifying necessity of war… and the ability of God to protect, guide and border on the miraculous.
Note the Lieutenant part; Cash is no stranger to combat. He writes his experiences of the first month spent at war in Iraq, as chaplain of the First Battalion, Fifth Marine Regiment. It’s a fun read; but not in the sense of a thriller novel, or a beginning-to-end treatise. It’s the insights of a man on the ground who knows what he’s talking about; as a chaplain, I guess you grow quickly when the injured, dying and dead begin to come in.
(Indeed, I can’t remember the last war memoir I actually read cover to cover. The best way, I’ve found out, is to read the first chapter, then the last, and flip over everything in between for incidents that shock, incidents that catch your eye and stand out amid the lines and lines of narrative. They reward multiple readthroughs—a war memoir is a lot of things, and I’ve often got more by skimming time and again rather than digesting right from the start. The former is fun and allows more focus on people rather than figures and dates… precisely the intent of the writers who set out to chronicle the struggles, cheers, victories and devastations of men in combat.)
I have a deep respect for the United States Marines, and this book takes pains to show the religious dimension of the men who fight, kill and (sometimes) die to take down Saddam Hussein’s government and the continued insurgency. It isn’t often you find a Christian book like Cash has written, a book that gets down and dirty and shows a side to the gospel beyond the current state of American Christianity—a gospel for men who go to war, who get down and dirty with sand, blood and rifle oil… and may not come back alive. Cash relates at length the worship services he led with the unit, and the Marines who came to him for spiritual guidance and help with their faith. For God can and does work even on battlefields, laying a table in His presence. Note that warriors didn’t—and still don’t—have time to prepare a table before meals. The act of laying a table before me in the presence of my enemies is simply impossible with men… but Cash never tires of pointing out it is quite possible with God.
We read about the Marine who walked nearly a kilometre along possible enemy-patrolled territory to reach Cash for a Saturday worship service.
We read about the captain, his driver and assistants who shared a green leather Bible that fell off their vehicle, then lay there on a road exposed to a murderous sandstorm, armoured troop carriers driving all over it, and a freezing Iraqi night… only to be found, unscathed, by the very man who lost it.
The mysterious, unmarked assault vehicles that appeared on an overpass, shielding the Marines from even worse incoming fire… and the fact the unit’s operations officer tried, to no avail, to identify them after the battle of April 10th.
God protects His people, but at the same time Cash pauses to reflect on losses. Where was this protection for the Marines grievously injured, and the men who succumbed or were outright killed? “If [a simple answer] existed, we would probably not want to hear it,” he admits.
To Christians: you won’t find a more honest, reflective yet unflinching look at the war in Iraq than this book. Cash doesn’t shy away from difficult questions—he faced them every day, more than the people who ask them. For a Christian perspective on the war and the men who fight it, go read it. Now.
To unbelievers: no matter where you may be on the faith spectrum, the miraculous can and does happen, as a Marine battalion found out in the face of the enemy. That’s all you have to know—you may not agree with Cash’s conclusions, but something happened that night that, as Josh McDowell titled his book, forms evidence that demands a verdict.
#
To the amazon.com reviewer who panned this book—yes, the one-star reviewer who titled his opinion piece A plumb line to Jesus, I’m talking to you—Cash believes in a God who realises that evil exists, and is good enough to empower human beings to defeat it. I’ll quote a small section of the review:
He does not, however, address the obvious question -- where was his enemies' god while Cash's god was thumpin' the snot outa them? Even if we assume that the 1st Battalion was fighting non-religious Iraqi regulars that day, many battles have since ensued involving devout Muslims (terrorists and non-terrorists alike) fighting against American forces. So where IS their god? Is Allah a lesser god? A weaker god? Or, shall we follow Cash to his logical conclusion and assume Allah could not be a "real" god at all because the "real" god is out there supporting the USA?
This is the old evil-exists-so-there-can’t-be-a-good-God argument, an empirically very powerful one I must say. But is this reviewer arguing for atheism or Islam?
And Cash doesn’t make a “logical” conclusion—the book simply takes the Christian God’s existence for granted, and works from there. Kinda like the Bible... and the Bible also tells of a God who takes sides and punishes evil. He has used other nations to do this and judge His people Israel. So why not the USA today?
Americans don’t suicide bomb.
Americans don’t ram airliners into two of the tallest buildings of other countries.
And they sure don’t riot in the streets over mere cartoons. Given this, which side would the God of the Bible stand with? Read Isaiah. Read the Proverbs. And the words of Jesus Himself.
Plus, plus, plus... THEY WERE ATTACKED. It’s only natural Cash will bring his Christian thought into examining the situation—do you really expect him to say what you want him to, that the Islamists have as much of a god as he does? I doubt he could have made any other point.
I haven’t even touched on the intellectual arguments yet... so the aforementioned reviewer would do well to rein that, um... intolerance in.
#
“No, no, no—watch his hand!”
-- Last words of Corporal Jason L. Dunham, USMC
My brother finally found, in the sometimes maddening labyrinth they call the Central Lending Library, Michael M. Phillips’s book The Gift of Valor.
Valor isn’t so much a memoir as it is a memorial, and its cover shows that much; an M16 rifle stuck barrel first in the ground, a helmet resting on its stock. On April 14, 2004, Congressional Medal of Honor (Posthumous) winner Corporal Jason L. Dunham cupped his helmet over an Iraqi grenade and lay down on it as it went off. Two nearby Marines were seriously injured, but lived.
Dunham didn’t die instantly. His skull was smashed open by grenade fragments, and he quickly lapsed into a coma from which he never awoke. His parents made the decision to take him off life support eight days later.
Valor may revolve around Dunham and his heroism, but that’s only a small part of its account—we read of the actions of Dunham’s unit, the Marine leadership, and the reactions of Dunham’s fellow townspeople in Scio, New York. Fellow soldiers and casualties are touched over throughout the narrative, and Phillips doesn’t mince words. The man was a hero, but no Marine fights alone.
It’s not a Historical Work nor a thesis. It’s the story of Dunham, his unit, his family, and the aftermath of April 14. It doesn’t matter whether you’re for or against the Iraqi campaign—the focus here is not on issues, but on people. My kind of war writer, my kind of book. The type that should get you on your knees in prayer.
I’ll quote Norman Vincent Peale—he said this on Hitler Came for Niemoeller, but it sure applies here: “If a man can read this and not be stirred to his depths, it is because he has no depths.”
#
So there's going to be a sequel to Condemned, aka. The Game With a Protagonist Who Cannot Even Crouch. I'm not holding my breath—much the only horror in the first game was how shoddily it played. (See my extended review earlier in this blog.)
#
Andrew’s hourly updates have stopped coming... because he’s made great recovery progress. He’s out of danger, conscious again, and off his anaesthesia. Praise God!
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