5/25/2006

some randomness

It's been a busy few weeks and I haven't posted in a while. It's hard to believe I'll be heading for the USA three weeks from tomorrow. Year one of my great Hungarian adventure flew by! I've been reading The Ragamuffin Gospel, by Brennan Manning, and he quotes Robert Capon saying this:

"The Reformation was a time when men went blind, staggering drunk because they had discovered, in the dusty basement of late medievalism, a whole cellarful of fifteen-hundred-year-old, two hundred proof grace - of bottle after bottle of pure distillate of Scripture, one sip of which would convince anyone that God saves us single-handedly. The word of the Gospel - after all those centuries of trying to lift yourself into heaven by worrying about the perfection of your bootstraps - suddenly turned out to be a flat announcement that the saved were home before they started... Grace has to be drunk straight: no water, no ice, and certainly no ginger ale; neither goodness, nor badness, nor the flowers that bloom in the spring of super spirituality could be allowed to enter into the case."

I liked the imagery.

Also, I recently codified my thoughts on chick flicks and a friend suggested I put them on my blog. There are eight requirements any romantic comedy must fulfill for me to judge it a good chick flick.

1) There must be something unique about the setting, concept, or idea of the film. Somebody can say "the film with the X" or "the one about an X" and know which movie you mean. For example, "the movie about the American movie star and the English bookshop guy" is obvious, but "the one about Cinderella" is not.

2) There has to be SOMETHING unpredictable in the movie. If I can tell you every major plot development after seeing the first five minutes of the film we're in trouble.

3) Dialogue, dialogue, dialogue! Chick flicks live and die by the realism and wittiness of their dialogue. If it's cheesy and trite they're awful, but snappy banter can save even a lukewarm plot.

4) It has to have realistic characters - none of those flat, one-sided, all-we-know-about-them-is-the-love-story characters, please. I want real people with real quirks and real emotional responses to real problems. I know realism isn't a hallmark of these films, and I'm not asking for every situation to be realistic (see number 1). However, given a few stretches for us to believe, the rest should be easy to accept. For example, when we believe that a rich businessman is willing to spend loads of money to hire one hooker for a whole week, it's not that difficult to imagine her slowly using the money to transform herself into a more refined woman.

5) It must have a good soundtrack. This is the most underrated part of a chick flick, but it's vital. These are movies about emotion and if the music doesn't set the right emotional tone you're sunk.

6) It has to have at least one pantheon-level repeatable line. There should be one that brings the film to mind whenever you hear it, regardless of context. In fact this is a good rule for almost all genres of movies.

7) They have to throw the guys a bone. It doesn't need to be something big, but few small "guy" moments in the film are must! Examples are the whole "Brooks Robinson is the greatest third baseman ever" subplot in Sleepless in Seattle, or the "Dirty Dozen" scene at the dinner table in that film (which I think is the single greatest guy moment in a chick flick).

and 8)... actually, I forget number 8. I'm sure it was something good. It's not a closed list - I take suggestions. Now you can decide for yourself if a chick flick passes the test. I've used a few of my favorites as examples (though I don't know if Pretty Woman is really a favorite of mine), but the archetypal chick flick is, and always will be, Casablanca.

5/09/2006

crossing the abyss

I'm blessed to have a lot of really smart friends (see the links on my sidebar!). Another one has started a blog that I imagine will be some very interesting reading. She's just getting started, so welcome to the blogosphere, Jackie!

5/05/2006

a trip to the embassy

Today I went to the US embassy for the first time, and it was an eye-opening experience. Let me first say, I was looking forward to this. I've seen enough spy movies with Americans diving into the embassy and safety at the last possible moment to be childishly excited by going there. As I walked in (through a massive security checkpoint where they took my computer for the duration of my visit) I imagined Matt Damon as Jason Bourne dodging through the building, trying to catch bad guys or something. I went to get some more pages put in my passport (it's full - how cool is that!) so I can go to the Belvedere Art Museum in Vienna in a couple weeks.

It was fairly busy, so I got to watch a few Hungarian people go through the security line in front of me. The guard was brusque and efficient with them, but when he heard my accent-less English he broke into a wide smile and started chatting amicably with me. He asked me where I was from, why I was in Budapest, and the other standard questions (as he took away my beloved laptop, probably to put some sort of spy tracking device in it...). It felt really good to be treated nicely.

In the waiting room they have a machine that gives you a number depending on which button you push. There were about two dozen people waiting, so I pressed the "US Citizen" button and settled into a comfy chair with my book (Open Heart by Frederick Buechner). Much to my surprise, I got to read all of about a paragraph before my number was called. When I got to the window I asked if there hadn't been some mistake. I was assured that all those people were Hungarians there to apply for visas, and I didn't have to wait for them. Again, it felt good to be kind of special, but also awkward.

I guess you can argue that, as an American, it's my embassy and I should be treated that way. However, that's the attitude of entitlement that really angers me about so many Americans. I wanted to say something - but how do you complain about something like that? So I leave it for you to decide for yourself. Maybe this is a symptom of a larger ideological problem. Or maybe I'm just overly sensitive.