My mom sent me this one, out of the blue. She's been sending good books lately! The Great Divorce is by my old friend C.S. Lewis, and though it is not for children or really that much like Narnia, I recognized and relaxed into his familiar style right away. I have said many times that Lewis, in The Last Battle gives the only version/description of Hell that I am able to understand and fit into the context of a loving God. The Great Divorce, interestingly enough, is also a sort of supposal, like the Chronicles, and in it, Lewis recounts a dream he has had about Heaven and Hell. It's fascinating. He does not disappoint, nor does he lose the distinction I just mentioned. I am fascinated, in fact, to read more of his theology. I think it's so interesting, because he is definitely (as far as I know) considered a fairly orthodox Christian writer, but his theology seems (to me) quite mystical. Not that mysticism precludes orthodoxy, but it's interesting. To tie in with my last post, he also mentioned Julian of Norwich. ;) But anyway, while absolutely affirming the idea of Hell, he also leaves it open as to whether anyone will be there forever. He leaves a lot open, in fact, while being absolutely convinced of the ultimate, all-encompassing good of God, and the need to turn toward Him.
There are some quotes I marked to put in here... I will do that when I'm at home and have the book to hand.
In the meantime, I am very enthusiastic about this book, and I want to read more of what my old friend has to say. He's one of those people of whom I wonder whether he would like me/think me talented/approve of my work. Just as a by-the-by. And to close, if you're looking for some very readable theology, give him a shot. I think I will seek out some more. And thank you, C. S. Lewis, for being so honest and interesting.
Showing posts with label Narnia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Narnia. Show all posts
Friday, March 03, 2006
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
Questions from Katie
1. You've finally been able to become a full time novelist (or playwright; whatever you wish!). Only one of your novels/plays wins critical and popular acclaim. Would you rather have that one be your first novel/play, or your last? Why?
Hard one! A conflict between my ego and my... non-ego? Or my ego and my ego? *laughs* But I think in the end I would want it to be my last. Although, if it were my first, I could live a more comfortable lifestyle while writing the rest, which is a serious consideration. But, assuming this is not too relevant to my bank account, and I have a decent source of income either way... then my last. I just hope I would have the stamina to keep writing without any acclaim! And hopefully I wouldn't pen my last work and then die immediately, so I'd have some time to enjoy it. I guess the thing is that I would want to see myself as always progressing and improving as a writer, not peaking right away and never doing anything of note again. I guess it's all ego stuff, though. I mean, in theory what should matter is my own work, the work itself and how I feel about it... though it also matters if other people respond and share what I've done. I guess what it boils down to is that I have to find the strength in myself to do my work because I want to do my work, and let everything that comes with it... success, or not, acclaim, or ridicule, be part of the game of living. Easier said than done, and being said, I'll stick with last, so I could feel like I climbed a mountain and made it to the top, instead of slid down a slide. Except that slides are easier. But I like the view from the mountain. Hehe, I'm not gonna win any prizes for these tossed off analogies, am I? Guess I'll get my wish. ;)
2. What do you think your life would be like if your baby brother had lived, by some miracle, with perfect health? How would you be different? What if he had lived, but with serious health problems?
This is a completely fascinating question. I think about it... not necessarily a lot, but frequently enough, given that it happened when I was three and half. I think that growing up... I always imagined him as a protector, I guess an idealized older brother, even though he would have been younger. I wonder a lot about how we would have related. Would we have allied together against (or at least as a buffer to) our parents? I can see that as an option... I can see us being very close, me and Patrick against the world, even if we didn't always get along. In that version of things he's a confidant, this other part of me that is out doing other things, but always close in spirit, I guess. But I can also see us being radically different. The odds are good, given the situation and family dynamics, that one of us would have been a rebel. I want to say probably him, but who knows? When I don't picture him as my symbiotic sibling, I tend to imagine him like another Pat I knew once... sort of lost and probably on lots of drugs and academically unsuccessful, though smart... and sincere, and deserving of better. Which is interesting, because that Pat was in fact the oldest sibling. And I've seen other examples where it's the oldest sibling that flounders (founders?) the most... my mom's family being a good example. So would I, then, have become more rebellious? Or rebellious at all, let's be honest? I think in some ways it would have been good for me, maybe, knocked a little of the terminal uniqueness out of me. So much of my identity, at least my self-concept and self-presentation, is wrapped up in being one, the one, the only, with all the good and bad that that implies. I think shaped the way I relate in many, many ways. I assume I would still centrally be the same, but the trappings might have been very, very different. I feel like we would have tried to create some balance with each other, and a quadrilateral is never really much like a triangle. But maybe I'm overestimating the whole thing, I don't really know. And I'm very curious about how it would have changed things when my parents split up. Would he have gone to live with my father? Would I? Or would my mother's attachment have been as fierce to both of us? Probably the last, I guess. And would we have visited my father together? Would I have attained the same level of (hard-won) honesty in that relationship? Probably it would have been totally different from all of these things, but it sure makes me think about what is constructed in our identities and what is "real." Is anything? Does it matter?
As to what it would have been like if he were seriously ill... I never considered it before now. So I have less speculation. Except that I'm sure that would have changed me substantially... not only would I be the only top priority (and the only one in the pressure cooker), now, by necessity, I would have been not the top priority at all. I don't know how we would have afforded that... clearly I would have lost whatever monetary opportunities I had, probably including SCC and Beginnings and trips and classes and stuff... I bet I would have formed more solid bonds with friends, dating and such from an earlier age... though it's also possible the opposite would have happened, that I would have retreated more solidly within the walls of my family, and taken on a rather absorbing care-taker role. I mean, it's possible that things would have worked out well for all of us, that it would have been expansive, somehow... but given the relationship between my parents, it seems like this would have been a fairly intolerable situation. Or maybe things would have stayed more sane on the surface. Who knows, but the concept is mostly scary.
I had a dream when I was in Kindergarten, about a cartoon (as in drawn, not stereotypical) African-American family, which I was part of. And we had a baby in the family, and it was accidentally put in the washing machine. (I realized later I had been sitting on the washing machine that day, talking to my father about Patrick). The dream stopped right when we opened the washing machine, and were about to look at its horrific contents.
I often think I was introduced to the concept of death with Patrick, that he made death seem more real to me than to some children. Not in a complete way, though. It makes me think of a story my dad tells, where he and I got on the elevator in the hospital to visit my mom, and somebody, seeing that we were going to the maternity floor, asked if I was going to see a baby brother or a baby sister... "Our baby died," I said. Apparently the ride was very quiet after that. It's an awful story, but it's also hilarious. At least to me. Imagining my chirping little child voice piping up with such a terrible sentence, but one that seemed reasonable and informative to me.
I was always fascinated by him. I never saw him. I don't think I was taken to the funeral; they decided I was too young. And there are no pictures. At some point in my childhood, pretty early I would guess, I was looking at a photo album with all my baby pictures. And I pointed to a blank spot and said, "That's for Patrick." My mom explained that there weren't any pictures of Patrick. And I looked at her like she was missing the point and said, "Make a picture with your mind."
I also, once, was in my room alone, much older, and thinking about Patrick. And I imagined that he was with me, and we were dancing together. Waltzing, I think. He was teaching me to dance. I liked that very much.
I guess another question would be, how would my life have been different if he'd never existed at all... because, oddly, that too would have made a difference in my concept of myself and of others.
I guess I just made a picture with my mind.
3. A strange irreversible affliction overcomes you! Would you rather become color-blind, or tone-deaf? Why?
Color-blind, I think, because I could still see beautiful things, I just wouldn't be positive if they were red or green or whatever. Not that such a thing would be irrelevant, or easy, but I love to sing and I am pleased to have a good voice, and those things would be lost to me if I was tone-deaf.
4. You've finally gotten into Narnia. Who do you want to meet first?
I don't know if I covered this in answering Alex's questions, at all... but I'm going to answer without checking. :) Mr. Tumnus, just because he is the first Narnian we ever meet. Or Aslan, because he's Aslan. Or... but if I keep on I will name them all. (Or Lucy or Edmund now I will stop).
5. As you may have noticed, the cow is now stalking you online! How do you get rid of it?
MOO-BE-GONE! (I've sprayed my blog with a liberal amount. If it doesn't work, I'll have to think of a new strategy.)
Hard one! A conflict between my ego and my... non-ego? Or my ego and my ego? *laughs* But I think in the end I would want it to be my last. Although, if it were my first, I could live a more comfortable lifestyle while writing the rest, which is a serious consideration. But, assuming this is not too relevant to my bank account, and I have a decent source of income either way... then my last. I just hope I would have the stamina to keep writing without any acclaim! And hopefully I wouldn't pen my last work and then die immediately, so I'd have some time to enjoy it. I guess the thing is that I would want to see myself as always progressing and improving as a writer, not peaking right away and never doing anything of note again. I guess it's all ego stuff, though. I mean, in theory what should matter is my own work, the work itself and how I feel about it... though it also matters if other people respond and share what I've done. I guess what it boils down to is that I have to find the strength in myself to do my work because I want to do my work, and let everything that comes with it... success, or not, acclaim, or ridicule, be part of the game of living. Easier said than done, and being said, I'll stick with last, so I could feel like I climbed a mountain and made it to the top, instead of slid down a slide. Except that slides are easier. But I like the view from the mountain. Hehe, I'm not gonna win any prizes for these tossed off analogies, am I? Guess I'll get my wish. ;)
2. What do you think your life would be like if your baby brother had lived, by some miracle, with perfect health? How would you be different? What if he had lived, but with serious health problems?
This is a completely fascinating question. I think about it... not necessarily a lot, but frequently enough, given that it happened when I was three and half. I think that growing up... I always imagined him as a protector, I guess an idealized older brother, even though he would have been younger. I wonder a lot about how we would have related. Would we have allied together against (or at least as a buffer to) our parents? I can see that as an option... I can see us being very close, me and Patrick against the world, even if we didn't always get along. In that version of things he's a confidant, this other part of me that is out doing other things, but always close in spirit, I guess. But I can also see us being radically different. The odds are good, given the situation and family dynamics, that one of us would have been a rebel. I want to say probably him, but who knows? When I don't picture him as my symbiotic sibling, I tend to imagine him like another Pat I knew once... sort of lost and probably on lots of drugs and academically unsuccessful, though smart... and sincere, and deserving of better. Which is interesting, because that Pat was in fact the oldest sibling. And I've seen other examples where it's the oldest sibling that flounders (founders?) the most... my mom's family being a good example. So would I, then, have become more rebellious? Or rebellious at all, let's be honest? I think in some ways it would have been good for me, maybe, knocked a little of the terminal uniqueness out of me. So much of my identity, at least my self-concept and self-presentation, is wrapped up in being one, the one, the only, with all the good and bad that that implies. I think shaped the way I relate in many, many ways. I assume I would still centrally be the same, but the trappings might have been very, very different. I feel like we would have tried to create some balance with each other, and a quadrilateral is never really much like a triangle. But maybe I'm overestimating the whole thing, I don't really know. And I'm very curious about how it would have changed things when my parents split up. Would he have gone to live with my father? Would I? Or would my mother's attachment have been as fierce to both of us? Probably the last, I guess. And would we have visited my father together? Would I have attained the same level of (hard-won) honesty in that relationship? Probably it would have been totally different from all of these things, but it sure makes me think about what is constructed in our identities and what is "real." Is anything? Does it matter?
As to what it would have been like if he were seriously ill... I never considered it before now. So I have less speculation. Except that I'm sure that would have changed me substantially... not only would I be the only top priority (and the only one in the pressure cooker), now, by necessity, I would have been not the top priority at all. I don't know how we would have afforded that... clearly I would have lost whatever monetary opportunities I had, probably including SCC and Beginnings and trips and classes and stuff... I bet I would have formed more solid bonds with friends, dating and such from an earlier age... though it's also possible the opposite would have happened, that I would have retreated more solidly within the walls of my family, and taken on a rather absorbing care-taker role. I mean, it's possible that things would have worked out well for all of us, that it would have been expansive, somehow... but given the relationship between my parents, it seems like this would have been a fairly intolerable situation. Or maybe things would have stayed more sane on the surface. Who knows, but the concept is mostly scary.
I had a dream when I was in Kindergarten, about a cartoon (as in drawn, not stereotypical) African-American family, which I was part of. And we had a baby in the family, and it was accidentally put in the washing machine. (I realized later I had been sitting on the washing machine that day, talking to my father about Patrick). The dream stopped right when we opened the washing machine, and were about to look at its horrific contents.
I often think I was introduced to the concept of death with Patrick, that he made death seem more real to me than to some children. Not in a complete way, though. It makes me think of a story my dad tells, where he and I got on the elevator in the hospital to visit my mom, and somebody, seeing that we were going to the maternity floor, asked if I was going to see a baby brother or a baby sister... "Our baby died," I said. Apparently the ride was very quiet after that. It's an awful story, but it's also hilarious. At least to me. Imagining my chirping little child voice piping up with such a terrible sentence, but one that seemed reasonable and informative to me.
I was always fascinated by him. I never saw him. I don't think I was taken to the funeral; they decided I was too young. And there are no pictures. At some point in my childhood, pretty early I would guess, I was looking at a photo album with all my baby pictures. And I pointed to a blank spot and said, "That's for Patrick." My mom explained that there weren't any pictures of Patrick. And I looked at her like she was missing the point and said, "Make a picture with your mind."
I also, once, was in my room alone, much older, and thinking about Patrick. And I imagined that he was with me, and we were dancing together. Waltzing, I think. He was teaching me to dance. I liked that very much.
I guess another question would be, how would my life have been different if he'd never existed at all... because, oddly, that too would have made a difference in my concept of myself and of others.
I guess I just made a picture with my mind.
3. A strange irreversible affliction overcomes you! Would you rather become color-blind, or tone-deaf? Why?
Color-blind, I think, because I could still see beautiful things, I just wouldn't be positive if they were red or green or whatever. Not that such a thing would be irrelevant, or easy, but I love to sing and I am pleased to have a good voice, and those things would be lost to me if I was tone-deaf.
4. You've finally gotten into Narnia. Who do you want to meet first?
I don't know if I covered this in answering Alex's questions, at all... but I'm going to answer without checking. :) Mr. Tumnus, just because he is the first Narnian we ever meet. Or Aslan, because he's Aslan. Or... but if I keep on I will name them all. (Or Lucy or Edmund now I will stop).
5. As you may have noticed, the cow is now stalking you online! How do you get rid of it?
MOO-BE-GONE! (I've sprayed my blog with a liberal amount. If it doesn't work, I'll have to think of a new strategy.)
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Once a King or Queen in Narnia...
There are about 500 million things I want to post about, so I think I'm going to take them one at a time, and give them as rewards to myself when I finish work. So, I will start with what will probably be a fairly in depth discussion (now that I've almost finished, I'd like to amend that to read: the longest thing EVER, read only if you love my brain) of my opinions and impressions of the new Narnia movie. If you don't know the story at all, there will definitely be tons of spoilers. If you don't want to know stuff they changed, or details about the movie... spoilers of that kind too. Remember... you're not supposed to talk about Narnia unless you find others that have been there too. ;) On that note, if anybody loves Narnia even sort of as much as I do, please share your thoughts! A brief aside: I don't get font options anymore and I don't know why.
Anyway...
I think it hit me Wednesday or Thursday night as I was walking home from the bus stop. It was cold and quiet, and suddenly I thought, "I'm going to see Narnia on Friday!" It filled my heart with excitement and I literally started running for about a block. (I had taken the 21 and gotten off a bit farther away than usual, for those who are familiar with the bus routes near our apartment.) I was full of delight! The thing is, I guess, that it's mine. It's my story, that I've loved forever, that's a part of my blood... other people have had movies made of their stories, and I've been into them. But this one was like a big present from the movies just to me. The very fact that it was made, I mean. Though it sure has been strange seeing all the sudden fuss about it! I saw Narnia chapstick in the drug store! And I didn't buy it... but I sorta wanted to. But it's like, suddenly these so familiar images and names are all over the place, in everyone's displays. I certainly don't mind! It's just... surprising. Also gratifying, in some way.
But on to the movie itself. I went with Rachel and Katie, after a long evening of cleaning up in preparation for our Saturday holiday bash. (What the hell kind of name is bash for a party, anyway?) There's a state of confusion and negativity that often comes over me when I clean (why I don't do it often, I guess), and I was sort of rising out of that as we actually arrived at the theater.
I think overall I vacillated between excitement/awe at seeing it and a sort of minutely analytical/critical mindset that came from knowing it so well. So I definitely think I need to see it again to really be sure about what I think, and maybe also to enjoy it fully.
I was sort of excited to hear the music they would pick, but I have to say the old music ended up being much more striking in my head. The music from the BBC/Wonderworks version. (Editor's note: from now on, the "old version" does in fact refer to the BBC/Wonderworks production.) But it's also, of course, more familiar to me, and that's a big deal with music and the liking of it, I think.
The opening scenes were really fascinating. It started with basically the whole screen being a sea of mist, and I was entranced, especially because it related to the old version, which starts also with mist, and the mist parts to reveal the map of Narnia. But this mist opened to reveal fighter planes, and set us very firmly in context, showing us the WWII setting very clearly, and then focusing in on the Pevensies with their mother, fleeing the bombs. Now that I'm thinking about it in retrospect, there are a lot of aspects of that scene that are recalled later in the images of Narnia... like the children and their mother huddled in a shelter outside of their home, and then the children and the beavers later huddled in a little hole, that was definitely much smaller and more haphazard than in the book or the old version of the movie. The "hiding place for beavers in bad times" was definitely more of a little makeshift hollowed out bit of dirt, and I wonder if that wasn't done on purpose to harken back to the war imagery. Other people caught things like the bombs falling from the planes as compared to the birds of prey in Aslan's army later dropping big rocks on the Witch's forces. Out of all of this I was most preoccupied with the huge point they make about Edmund running back or staying too long in the house to rescue his father's picture, and Peter having to go get him out of there, and yelling at him for it afterwards. I mean, obviously it sets up tension between Edmund and Peter, but it's interesting because it seems to me that this happens in a very "no fault" way. Edmund's decision to take the picture is not out of any "bad" motivation, and Peter yelling at him is perhaps not desirable, but rather understandable in those circumstances, because he (Peter) is frightened and worked up. And it all centers around their father. Is this meant to imply that the problems Edmund is having are basically rooted in the fact that he needs a father figure, and suddenly the only older male in his life is Peter, so he both resents Peter's attempts to take authority and needs him to do so? I mean, certainly the emphasis placed on the relationship between the two boys would imply that. And also that Peter feels the need to take on a fathering position to the other children, but doesn't really know how to do that, and therefore, especially with Edmund but occasionally with Susan as well, ends up being excessively authoritative. It's an interesting dynamic, and it's developed in ways that make me question things I never questioned at all in the books. At the same time, does this tend to set up Edmund as having an "excuse" for his behavior? Maybe it's just that I felt we were supposed to be more sympathetic toward Edmund, saving the broken picture, then toward Peter, yelling at him for being stupid for saving the picture. The thing with the picture also sets Edmund up for a parallel moment when Edmund sees the paiting of Mr. Tumnus' father in Mr. Tumnus' ransacked cave. So, I wasn't sure if the picture thing was mostly to create sympathy for Edmund, or to explain Edmund's eventual sympathy for Mr. Tumnus. I think that the idea of being sort of "temporary orphans" can be applied to Susan's behavior as well, in a way I didn't quite notice before, although for some reason I had the most trouble understanding Susan's behavior/personality, out of all the children.
Anyway (this is turning out to be the most rambly review ever, but that's ok), I was really fascinated by the grounding of the whole story in its WWII context, something I hadn't thought terribly deeply about before. I think when I first read that books, I was too young to have much of my own context for WWII, if any, so I just took it for granted as part of the story, and did not think at all about the historical meaning. But this whole opening with planes and bombs made me think about it a lot, especially since I've been obsessed lately with the way that WWII has shaped our consciousness as both a small (American) and larger (world) society, and how key it is to everything, in a lot of ways. I wonder if C.S. Lewis set it then to frame it in a time of crisis, or just as a convenience? I mean, he could have had the children going off to the countryside at any time, I suppose... but probably not to strangers, and probably not without their parents, unless he orphaned them completely. So, is there a parallel between the events in/redemption of Narnia, and the events in Europe? I don't quite know what to think about it, since I never thought about Narnia in it's national/real world context really before now, except in the religious themes, of course. And then there's the fact that he was writing in the fairly immediate aftermath of the war, still, not from a perspective when it has been soaked into the culture in the way it has now, with less immediate awareness but perhaps more subtle influence. I'm really not sure what to make of it. So I guess I'll let that one sit for a bit and think about it more later.
So, the first things that struck me about the children is that they were all very dark-haired except Peter. I had assumed from the first quick previews that I saw that they were trying to make them all look very much like siblings, and Susan and Edmund and Lucy all very much did, especially Susan and Lucy, but Peter looked different. I always am interested in why in the films I've seen, Lucy rarely has blond hair, like she does in the books... but I've never pictured her with blond hair, and I like her with brown hair like me. But Susan I can see either way, I think because I did picture her clearly in the books with black hair, and then in the old version of the movies she had blond hair. Their faces in the old version are so clear to me, all of them, really, though especially Lucy with her funny buck teeth. I think I had some trouble with Peter's appearance because he looked so grown up. Susan also looked more grown up than I expected, but just generally there seemed to be such a huge gap between Susan and Edmund, and then another (but smaller) gap between Edmund and Lucy. Sometimes I thought Peter must be about 16, and that was weird. And Susan had little breasts, though I suppose it's possible she was around 12 or so. I have this little chart in a book somewhere that calculates all of their ages during each book, but I don't precisely remember now. Although I think Lucy was supposed to be 6 or 7, and I thought they were mostly a year or two apart in increments. But I don't know that for sure. And... apparently Edmund must always and forever have freckles. ;) I think I'm probably ok with that. I loved this version of Edmund, really. And Lucy definitely grew on me. But probably I should give them each their own paragraph, since this is already obscenely long.
Ok: general thoughts on Peter. He confused me by being so old, but I really liked the way his character was so developed throughout the story, especially in his relationship with Edmund. In fact, I think I might have been somewhat more personally invested in Peter here than in the book, at least the first time around. But I just wish he'd lookedlike more of a child, just a little. I also got a little tired of the many times he had to display his heroism, but maybe that's just me... and since when did Peter ride a unicorn into battle? I was like, um, hello Jewel! I mean, I guess it was fine, I didn't hate it... it just startled me. I liked that he wasn't too perfect, and I liked the way he grew into his authority. I was pretty fascinated with his relationship with Edmund, especially because he seemed to be much more beastly to him in this version than in the book. Like, I saw much more of Peter's unreasonableness, as opposed to just Edmund being sullen, or whatever. Peter seemed like he was poised on the edge of being a good leader, but before he got there he was in fact a very bad one. Maybe that's part of the reason they made him older? I missed some of his talk with Aslan... but there'll defintely be a dialogue section later.
Susan: Definitely the most confusing. I felt like they changed her character a lot because they were trying to make her less "girly" or something, and I guess that's ok in some ways, but I often feel like movies go about that the wrong way. Or, that suddenly girls have to be all snappy and make smart remarks, like that's the only way to be strong... but on the other hand, I was interested in her as a character, she seemed conflicted in a way that was never quite resolved. I wonder if this was foreshadowing, or merely if I was interpreting little things in her behavior that way, in a way I never really have in the books. I mean, I guess I've interpreted the major things that way, like the stuff in Prince Caspian about seeing Aslan, but I never really thought about the rest of her behavior in this context. And what does that mean, given that Susan is the most cautious, and the most willing to uphold the status quo? I don't mean it to sound like I hate Susan. I don't, I like Susan, but I never identified strongly with her. Maybe what they were trying to do in this version, as with Peter, is clearly show the anxiety it created in Susan to be more "in charge" and somewhat more aware of the danger involved in the war. I was interested in how this Susan seemed to go from being very reassuring that things would be all right, to being more nervous and snapping at people, particularly Peter. And even making sort of snappy remarks to Father Christmas... which was cute, actually, but it confused me then when she was suddenly "Queen Susan the Gentle." But I guess most of their King and Queen names are things they grew into over time, anyway. The one thing I absolutely loved that they did with Susan was when she and Lucy were talking by the river, and Susan said she had gotten too serious and how they used to have fun and they start playing and splashing... that seemed very... appropriate, somehow, to their characters as they are portrayed in the books, and the tension combined with closeness that works in Susan and Lucy's relationship as well as with the boys, though more subtly. The scene was just fantastic, I thought, and then ripping down the towel or whatever to reveal Fenris Ulf (or Maugrim, he was Maugrim in this version, right? One is the British text and one the American and I've never been clear about that. I think I read about Fenris Ulf first, though. Anyway) was very exciting and seemed very right, even though it had nothing to do with the original version. Also, Susan was appropriately beautiful, I think.
Edmund: I really loved this Edmund. I liked some things that they changed about what happened to him, and didn't like others, but I really loved him. I mean, Edmund has always been one of my favorite characters, and more so with time, I think, but I also very much enjoyed the way he was played. He certainly held my attention. And, as I think he is very well developed in the book, they didn't have to depart wildly from the book to try and round him out, or anything like that. He had a striking appearance, freckles and all... and I could see the internal journey that he went through, as well as the physical one. Which is really a compliment to him, because I was disappointed that they took out some of the sort of "time with Edmund" scenes... like when he's journeying to the Witch's castle and when the Witch is about to kill him. On the other hand, I approved surprisingly strongly of the added scene in the jail when Edmund meets Mr. Tumnus, and the scene later with the fabulous Fox that they added for this movie. These scenes gave Edmund a chance to make connections with people who were not the Witch, with Mr. Tumnus obviously in a poignant/personal way, since he knows it's his fault Mr. Tumnus got caught... and the Fox was an interesting substitute for the party of happy animals. More hard-core, I guess, more clear that we were in a war, or something... it definitely highlighted the Witch's cruelty in a stark way... I did miss the squirrel banging his spoon on the table, though, I must say. But all of this made Edmund's transformation very believable. I am caught by the fact that Edmund carefully doesn't tell the Witch about the others' plans to go to the Stone Table until he uses it as a bargaining chip for the Fox's life. I'm not sure what to make of it, or if I like it. I definitely didn't like that the Witch didn't say "kill whatever you find there," to Fenris/Maugrim in front of Edmund... but that has to do with the Witch's characterization, not Edmund's. I guess the only thing I would have done differently with Edmund is to make him just a tiny, tiny, half inch bit more culpable before he has his change of heart. But everything else was splendid, and I LOVED his showdown with the Witch. I always do. I had this fantasy that they were going to give that to Peter, because of the general focus on him in the battle, and I honestly think that might have ruined the movie for me. And his talk with Aslan was quite good too. Yay Edmund the Just. Oh, and this is random, but the Turkish Delight looked just the same as in the old version. Not that it would look different. And I kind of missed the part in the old version when it floats up to Edmund through the air and undoes its own bow for him. But anyway, on to
Lucy: My favorite of all the Pevensies, and the one I have always identified with the most. Which I guess makes it both hard and easy for me to be critical of her, in a way. She was so small... which is totally appropriate, it's just that I've grown a lot since my first reading, when I was about her age. So that was somehow a little surprising. And she was a lovely child, which of course was captivating, but also kind of disappointing, given the issues that come up later with Susan's beauty. Or maybe I'm just a little in love with buck-toothed chubby Lucy with the odd voice from the old version. ;) But really, this Lucy was mostly really good. She was cute, which I think is fine but sometimes distracts from the character, and there was this odd thing where she smiled every time she was trying to cry, but she got the most important thing right, I think... she had Lucy's inherent cognisance. I loved watching her when she got quiet, from time to time, and see what she was realizing, or noticing, or thinking about. And I loved the way her bond with Aslan was made so apparent... that seemed really important to me. Probably because that is one of the reasons I always loved Lucy and wanted to be like her. And her relationship with Mr. Tumnus was quite stellar. I think I'm most looking forward to seeing her as she gets a little older and grows into herself a bit.
I figured I should just keep going with comments on some of the characters. I absolutely adored Mr. Tumnus; he was perfectly wonderful. I really have no complaints on that score. The Witch's Dwarf was so creepy with his creepy voice, and I liked that a lot. The Beavers were ok, and had some really nice moments, but I had problems with some of the things they changed with them, mostly dialogue issues. Fenris Ulf (Maugrim?) sounded too American to me. Oh... and I just loved the brave, dapper little Fox they added. Loved him!
The Witch herself... I just don't know. It took me awhile to get used to the very cold, very detached way she was playing everything-- a far cry from the completely overdone (but splendid) portrayal of her in the old version, and even from the more choleric Witch of the book. There were moments where the coldness worked very well, and I started to get really into it during her killing of Aslan scene. But other times, especially at the beginning, she just wasn't scary enough.
And I guess last on my character list... the great lion Aslan! Wow, I had this complete... rush of anticipation when Aslan was about to come on the screen. He was so majestic and so beautiful. I almost felt like crying, and I was definitely leaning forward with a big smile on my face. Aslan looked just right, and, though I was worried about the voice, since I loved the purring-rumbly Aslan voice of the old movie, I liked it a lot. I love Aslan... I always have. I did have some problems with what they did with his character, making him a little less intimate than I would have liked, but I think those mostly fall into the category of dialogue problems.
Wow, there's still so much to talk about... perhaps I'll just jumble it all up together. Or make a list!
Visually: Beautiful! Really beautiful. So many lovely and interesting visuals. Except... the Witch's costumes! That one with the crazy shoulders? NOOOO. SO distracting and WEIRD. I sorta liked the outfit she had on for killing Aslan, though.
Oh, I guess maybe now I should talk about the dialogue. This was my biggest complaint, and it is a big one. They weakened the dialogue. A lot. A lot a lot a lot. And that isn't just because I'm a purist-- in fact, I liked a lot of the things that they changed, in terms of scenes, and even some dialogic moments, like the interplay with Mr. Tumnus and Lucy about who needed the handkerchief. But not really important, beautiful (or just more interesting and genuine) dialogue, please. It was seriously distracting. I kept sort of gasping or making little disappointed sounds to myself when lines didn't come that really should have come. Or when there was suddenly some sappy line that just didn't say things as deeply or as well. Like in the beginning, when Lucy said, "I thought you were my friend," to dissuade Mr. Tumnus from kidnapping her. What? It seemed so jarringly sentimental. And why didn't Aslan say, "Let the prince win his spurs," to indicate that Peter should fight the wolf, instead of this insipid, "It's Peter's fight," thing? Because young children don't know what that means? I didn't know when I read it, but it has a beauty to it, it flows... and I figured it out. In fact, I remember it because I learned it in this context, I remember the beauty of it. I missed the Professor examining the children in the beginning... I think it was a nice little glimpse into their characters. And I really thought the discussion about whether Lucy was mad or whatever had all its bewildering tightness removed when the litany about what they teach them in these schools was lessened, and the "either she is lying, or she is mad, or she is telling the truth" thing changed. I mean, some of them were just my pet lines that were cut away, but some were seriously weakened. Especially at the Beavers' house... I kept being annoyed by the additional lines/sparring of Mr. and Mrs. Beaver and I couldn't quite figure out why... I think in this case I was less annoyed by what was there as by what was missing. Most notably: "Wrong will be right when Aslan comes into sight. At the sound of his roar, sorrows will be no more. When he bares his teeth, winter meets its death. And when he shakes his mane, we will have Spring again." I mean, come on, why would you cut that? That's really important! And beauiful! But lots of the discussion of Aslan was cut, actually, and I thought that was really bad. They never talked about the fact that he was a lion and not a man. They never talked about his nature, and the good but not safe thing... or, they did, actually, but not till the end. They never talked about how scary he could be. I missed that. There were so many instances of this dialogue disappointment, and now I can't remember them all... oh, but this was a big deal... the whole part when Susan and Lucy are walking with Aslan was weakened a lot because Aslan just kind of kept going along, and didn't ever seem that upset, and didn't say (I think) "Children, why are you following me?" or (more importantly) "Put your hands in my mane, that I may feel that you are there." That might not be an exact quote... but I think it's very important both that they are invited to do that, instead of just doing it, because it marks a transition and new intimacy in their relationship with Aslan, and that the statement shows Aslan's loneliness and vulnerability at that moment, which makes the entire thing much more intimate and personal and meaningful. And then the lines he had at the end seemed so stiff... In the lines themselves, not in the delivery, which I highly approved. I know there were lots more, in fact, and even more of Aslan's lines... or, like when Aslan is preparing Peter for battle, and Peter says, "But you'll be there yourself, Aslan," and Aslan replies, "I can give you no promise of that." I missed that. Oh, and when the Witch had him on the table and was like, "I'm very disappointed in you," or whatever, I was displeased. That whole scene is very big, very mythic and resonant, and I like the ritualistic feeling of the Witch's words as they are written. So basically... screenwriters, you have some lovely, lovely ideas. I do like your sense of the story arc. But let Lewis keep most of the dialogue. It's good. It's mythic. It's lovely. And whatever you do, DON'T try to simplify it or modernize it. PLEASE. PLEASE! One last example: When Aslan came back, and was explaining, and was like, "The Witch didn't know the power of sacrifice," I wanted to groan. No Deeper Magic From Before the Dawn of Time? People are coming back from the dead. That's mythic and huge! It deserves mythic language. And that also eliminated the whole thing where Lucy sort of accuses him of putting them through hell for nothing, and he says it had never been tested... God, I love that.
Which I think, though it's not really dialogue related, brings me to the one thing I truly missed about Lucy: her moments of impetuousness that are too much, her moments of defiance toward Aslan, even though she loves him so deeply, maybe the most deeply. While I LOVED the special relationship they built between Peter and Edmund, and the way Peter finally embraced him when Edmund was healed by the fireflower juice, I HATED the fact that they then cut Lucy hovering over Edmund, Aslan trying to get her to move on, her snapping at him, and Aslan finally saying "Must more people die for Edmund?" It's such a great part... it's such a significant part. It establishes a lot about Lucy and Aslan in just a moment.
Oh... another interesting omission that I don't know how I feel about: The little debate between Susan and Lucy about whether Edmund knew what Aslan had done for him, and whether he ought to know. I always thought that part was sort of... puzzling, maybe because I couldn't decide whether I agreed with Susan that it would be too awful for him to know, or with Lucy that he ought to be told. I think I mostly agreed with Lucy, but it seemed to be left at the idea that it would be a horrible thing that he should be spared. However, I always assumed that he did know, in later years and whatnot. Anyway, maybe they found that bit puzzling too, and therefore left it out?
And one more thing that I liked... I was interested in how they were going to deal with Father Christmas' assertion that "battles are ugly when women fight." And changing it to "battles are ugly affairs" was neat, true, and non-sexist. :)
And the end, where they are crowned, and Aslan's departure, and the going back to England part... all very, very good.
All right, this has gone on long enough. Suffice it to say that I can't wait to see this again, despite the somewhat mixed review I have given. And I also want to see the old version again and give the books another go.
Because, at the end of the day, Narnia is Narnia, and almost anyone who's ever been there always wants to get back.
How can you tell?
Something about the eyes, I think. :) Long live the true King.
Anyway...
I think it hit me Wednesday or Thursday night as I was walking home from the bus stop. It was cold and quiet, and suddenly I thought, "I'm going to see Narnia on Friday!" It filled my heart with excitement and I literally started running for about a block. (I had taken the 21 and gotten off a bit farther away than usual, for those who are familiar with the bus routes near our apartment.) I was full of delight! The thing is, I guess, that it's mine. It's my story, that I've loved forever, that's a part of my blood... other people have had movies made of their stories, and I've been into them. But this one was like a big present from the movies just to me. The very fact that it was made, I mean. Though it sure has been strange seeing all the sudden fuss about it! I saw Narnia chapstick in the drug store! And I didn't buy it... but I sorta wanted to. But it's like, suddenly these so familiar images and names are all over the place, in everyone's displays. I certainly don't mind! It's just... surprising. Also gratifying, in some way.
But on to the movie itself. I went with Rachel and Katie, after a long evening of cleaning up in preparation for our Saturday holiday bash. (What the hell kind of name is bash for a party, anyway?) There's a state of confusion and negativity that often comes over me when I clean (why I don't do it often, I guess), and I was sort of rising out of that as we actually arrived at the theater.
I think overall I vacillated between excitement/awe at seeing it and a sort of minutely analytical/critical mindset that came from knowing it so well. So I definitely think I need to see it again to really be sure about what I think, and maybe also to enjoy it fully.
I was sort of excited to hear the music they would pick, but I have to say the old music ended up being much more striking in my head. The music from the BBC/Wonderworks version. (Editor's note: from now on, the "old version" does in fact refer to the BBC/Wonderworks production.) But it's also, of course, more familiar to me, and that's a big deal with music and the liking of it, I think.
The opening scenes were really fascinating. It started with basically the whole screen being a sea of mist, and I was entranced, especially because it related to the old version, which starts also with mist, and the mist parts to reveal the map of Narnia. But this mist opened to reveal fighter planes, and set us very firmly in context, showing us the WWII setting very clearly, and then focusing in on the Pevensies with their mother, fleeing the bombs. Now that I'm thinking about it in retrospect, there are a lot of aspects of that scene that are recalled later in the images of Narnia... like the children and their mother huddled in a shelter outside of their home, and then the children and the beavers later huddled in a little hole, that was definitely much smaller and more haphazard than in the book or the old version of the movie. The "hiding place for beavers in bad times" was definitely more of a little makeshift hollowed out bit of dirt, and I wonder if that wasn't done on purpose to harken back to the war imagery. Other people caught things like the bombs falling from the planes as compared to the birds of prey in Aslan's army later dropping big rocks on the Witch's forces. Out of all of this I was most preoccupied with the huge point they make about Edmund running back or staying too long in the house to rescue his father's picture, and Peter having to go get him out of there, and yelling at him for it afterwards. I mean, obviously it sets up tension between Edmund and Peter, but it's interesting because it seems to me that this happens in a very "no fault" way. Edmund's decision to take the picture is not out of any "bad" motivation, and Peter yelling at him is perhaps not desirable, but rather understandable in those circumstances, because he (Peter) is frightened and worked up. And it all centers around their father. Is this meant to imply that the problems Edmund is having are basically rooted in the fact that he needs a father figure, and suddenly the only older male in his life is Peter, so he both resents Peter's attempts to take authority and needs him to do so? I mean, certainly the emphasis placed on the relationship between the two boys would imply that. And also that Peter feels the need to take on a fathering position to the other children, but doesn't really know how to do that, and therefore, especially with Edmund but occasionally with Susan as well, ends up being excessively authoritative. It's an interesting dynamic, and it's developed in ways that make me question things I never questioned at all in the books. At the same time, does this tend to set up Edmund as having an "excuse" for his behavior? Maybe it's just that I felt we were supposed to be more sympathetic toward Edmund, saving the broken picture, then toward Peter, yelling at him for being stupid for saving the picture. The thing with the picture also sets Edmund up for a parallel moment when Edmund sees the paiting of Mr. Tumnus' father in Mr. Tumnus' ransacked cave. So, I wasn't sure if the picture thing was mostly to create sympathy for Edmund, or to explain Edmund's eventual sympathy for Mr. Tumnus. I think that the idea of being sort of "temporary orphans" can be applied to Susan's behavior as well, in a way I didn't quite notice before, although for some reason I had the most trouble understanding Susan's behavior/personality, out of all the children.
Anyway (this is turning out to be the most rambly review ever, but that's ok), I was really fascinated by the grounding of the whole story in its WWII context, something I hadn't thought terribly deeply about before. I think when I first read that books, I was too young to have much of my own context for WWII, if any, so I just took it for granted as part of the story, and did not think at all about the historical meaning. But this whole opening with planes and bombs made me think about it a lot, especially since I've been obsessed lately with the way that WWII has shaped our consciousness as both a small (American) and larger (world) society, and how key it is to everything, in a lot of ways. I wonder if C.S. Lewis set it then to frame it in a time of crisis, or just as a convenience? I mean, he could have had the children going off to the countryside at any time, I suppose... but probably not to strangers, and probably not without their parents, unless he orphaned them completely. So, is there a parallel between the events in/redemption of Narnia, and the events in Europe? I don't quite know what to think about it, since I never thought about Narnia in it's national/real world context really before now, except in the religious themes, of course. And then there's the fact that he was writing in the fairly immediate aftermath of the war, still, not from a perspective when it has been soaked into the culture in the way it has now, with less immediate awareness but perhaps more subtle influence. I'm really not sure what to make of it. So I guess I'll let that one sit for a bit and think about it more later.
So, the first things that struck me about the children is that they were all very dark-haired except Peter. I had assumed from the first quick previews that I saw that they were trying to make them all look very much like siblings, and Susan and Edmund and Lucy all very much did, especially Susan and Lucy, but Peter looked different. I always am interested in why in the films I've seen, Lucy rarely has blond hair, like she does in the books... but I've never pictured her with blond hair, and I like her with brown hair like me. But Susan I can see either way, I think because I did picture her clearly in the books with black hair, and then in the old version of the movies she had blond hair. Their faces in the old version are so clear to me, all of them, really, though especially Lucy with her funny buck teeth. I think I had some trouble with Peter's appearance because he looked so grown up. Susan also looked more grown up than I expected, but just generally there seemed to be such a huge gap between Susan and Edmund, and then another (but smaller) gap between Edmund and Lucy. Sometimes I thought Peter must be about 16, and that was weird. And Susan had little breasts, though I suppose it's possible she was around 12 or so. I have this little chart in a book somewhere that calculates all of their ages during each book, but I don't precisely remember now. Although I think Lucy was supposed to be 6 or 7, and I thought they were mostly a year or two apart in increments. But I don't know that for sure. And... apparently Edmund must always and forever have freckles. ;) I think I'm probably ok with that. I loved this version of Edmund, really. And Lucy definitely grew on me. But probably I should give them each their own paragraph, since this is already obscenely long.
Ok: general thoughts on Peter. He confused me by being so old, but I really liked the way his character was so developed throughout the story, especially in his relationship with Edmund. In fact, I think I might have been somewhat more personally invested in Peter here than in the book, at least the first time around. But I just wish he'd lookedlike more of a child, just a little. I also got a little tired of the many times he had to display his heroism, but maybe that's just me... and since when did Peter ride a unicorn into battle? I was like, um, hello Jewel! I mean, I guess it was fine, I didn't hate it... it just startled me. I liked that he wasn't too perfect, and I liked the way he grew into his authority. I was pretty fascinated with his relationship with Edmund, especially because he seemed to be much more beastly to him in this version than in the book. Like, I saw much more of Peter's unreasonableness, as opposed to just Edmund being sullen, or whatever. Peter seemed like he was poised on the edge of being a good leader, but before he got there he was in fact a very bad one. Maybe that's part of the reason they made him older? I missed some of his talk with Aslan... but there'll defintely be a dialogue section later.
Susan: Definitely the most confusing. I felt like they changed her character a lot because they were trying to make her less "girly" or something, and I guess that's ok in some ways, but I often feel like movies go about that the wrong way. Or, that suddenly girls have to be all snappy and make smart remarks, like that's the only way to be strong... but on the other hand, I was interested in her as a character, she seemed conflicted in a way that was never quite resolved. I wonder if this was foreshadowing, or merely if I was interpreting little things in her behavior that way, in a way I never really have in the books. I mean, I guess I've interpreted the major things that way, like the stuff in Prince Caspian about seeing Aslan, but I never really thought about the rest of her behavior in this context. And what does that mean, given that Susan is the most cautious, and the most willing to uphold the status quo? I don't mean it to sound like I hate Susan. I don't, I like Susan, but I never identified strongly with her. Maybe what they were trying to do in this version, as with Peter, is clearly show the anxiety it created in Susan to be more "in charge" and somewhat more aware of the danger involved in the war. I was interested in how this Susan seemed to go from being very reassuring that things would be all right, to being more nervous and snapping at people, particularly Peter. And even making sort of snappy remarks to Father Christmas... which was cute, actually, but it confused me then when she was suddenly "Queen Susan the Gentle." But I guess most of their King and Queen names are things they grew into over time, anyway. The one thing I absolutely loved that they did with Susan was when she and Lucy were talking by the river, and Susan said she had gotten too serious and how they used to have fun and they start playing and splashing... that seemed very... appropriate, somehow, to their characters as they are portrayed in the books, and the tension combined with closeness that works in Susan and Lucy's relationship as well as with the boys, though more subtly. The scene was just fantastic, I thought, and then ripping down the towel or whatever to reveal Fenris Ulf (or Maugrim, he was Maugrim in this version, right? One is the British text and one the American and I've never been clear about that. I think I read about Fenris Ulf first, though. Anyway) was very exciting and seemed very right, even though it had nothing to do with the original version. Also, Susan was appropriately beautiful, I think.
Edmund: I really loved this Edmund. I liked some things that they changed about what happened to him, and didn't like others, but I really loved him. I mean, Edmund has always been one of my favorite characters, and more so with time, I think, but I also very much enjoyed the way he was played. He certainly held my attention. And, as I think he is very well developed in the book, they didn't have to depart wildly from the book to try and round him out, or anything like that. He had a striking appearance, freckles and all... and I could see the internal journey that he went through, as well as the physical one. Which is really a compliment to him, because I was disappointed that they took out some of the sort of "time with Edmund" scenes... like when he's journeying to the Witch's castle and when the Witch is about to kill him. On the other hand, I approved surprisingly strongly of the added scene in the jail when Edmund meets Mr. Tumnus, and the scene later with the fabulous Fox that they added for this movie. These scenes gave Edmund a chance to make connections with people who were not the Witch, with Mr. Tumnus obviously in a poignant/personal way, since he knows it's his fault Mr. Tumnus got caught... and the Fox was an interesting substitute for the party of happy animals. More hard-core, I guess, more clear that we were in a war, or something... it definitely highlighted the Witch's cruelty in a stark way... I did miss the squirrel banging his spoon on the table, though, I must say. But all of this made Edmund's transformation very believable. I am caught by the fact that Edmund carefully doesn't tell the Witch about the others' plans to go to the Stone Table until he uses it as a bargaining chip for the Fox's life. I'm not sure what to make of it, or if I like it. I definitely didn't like that the Witch didn't say "kill whatever you find there," to Fenris/Maugrim in front of Edmund... but that has to do with the Witch's characterization, not Edmund's. I guess the only thing I would have done differently with Edmund is to make him just a tiny, tiny, half inch bit more culpable before he has his change of heart. But everything else was splendid, and I LOVED his showdown with the Witch. I always do. I had this fantasy that they were going to give that to Peter, because of the general focus on him in the battle, and I honestly think that might have ruined the movie for me. And his talk with Aslan was quite good too. Yay Edmund the Just. Oh, and this is random, but the Turkish Delight looked just the same as in the old version. Not that it would look different. And I kind of missed the part in the old version when it floats up to Edmund through the air and undoes its own bow for him. But anyway, on to
Lucy: My favorite of all the Pevensies, and the one I have always identified with the most. Which I guess makes it both hard and easy for me to be critical of her, in a way. She was so small... which is totally appropriate, it's just that I've grown a lot since my first reading, when I was about her age. So that was somehow a little surprising. And she was a lovely child, which of course was captivating, but also kind of disappointing, given the issues that come up later with Susan's beauty. Or maybe I'm just a little in love with buck-toothed chubby Lucy with the odd voice from the old version. ;) But really, this Lucy was mostly really good. She was cute, which I think is fine but sometimes distracts from the character, and there was this odd thing where she smiled every time she was trying to cry, but she got the most important thing right, I think... she had Lucy's inherent cognisance. I loved watching her when she got quiet, from time to time, and see what she was realizing, or noticing, or thinking about. And I loved the way her bond with Aslan was made so apparent... that seemed really important to me. Probably because that is one of the reasons I always loved Lucy and wanted to be like her. And her relationship with Mr. Tumnus was quite stellar. I think I'm most looking forward to seeing her as she gets a little older and grows into herself a bit.
I figured I should just keep going with comments on some of the characters. I absolutely adored Mr. Tumnus; he was perfectly wonderful. I really have no complaints on that score. The Witch's Dwarf was so creepy with his creepy voice, and I liked that a lot. The Beavers were ok, and had some really nice moments, but I had problems with some of the things they changed with them, mostly dialogue issues. Fenris Ulf (Maugrim?) sounded too American to me. Oh... and I just loved the brave, dapper little Fox they added. Loved him!
The Witch herself... I just don't know. It took me awhile to get used to the very cold, very detached way she was playing everything-- a far cry from the completely overdone (but splendid) portrayal of her in the old version, and even from the more choleric Witch of the book. There were moments where the coldness worked very well, and I started to get really into it during her killing of Aslan scene. But other times, especially at the beginning, she just wasn't scary enough.
And I guess last on my character list... the great lion Aslan! Wow, I had this complete... rush of anticipation when Aslan was about to come on the screen. He was so majestic and so beautiful. I almost felt like crying, and I was definitely leaning forward with a big smile on my face. Aslan looked just right, and, though I was worried about the voice, since I loved the purring-rumbly Aslan voice of the old movie, I liked it a lot. I love Aslan... I always have. I did have some problems with what they did with his character, making him a little less intimate than I would have liked, but I think those mostly fall into the category of dialogue problems.
Wow, there's still so much to talk about... perhaps I'll just jumble it all up together. Or make a list!
Visually: Beautiful! Really beautiful. So many lovely and interesting visuals. Except... the Witch's costumes! That one with the crazy shoulders? NOOOO. SO distracting and WEIRD. I sorta liked the outfit she had on for killing Aslan, though.
Oh, I guess maybe now I should talk about the dialogue. This was my biggest complaint, and it is a big one. They weakened the dialogue. A lot. A lot a lot a lot. And that isn't just because I'm a purist-- in fact, I liked a lot of the things that they changed, in terms of scenes, and even some dialogic moments, like the interplay with Mr. Tumnus and Lucy about who needed the handkerchief. But not really important, beautiful (or just more interesting and genuine) dialogue, please. It was seriously distracting. I kept sort of gasping or making little disappointed sounds to myself when lines didn't come that really should have come. Or when there was suddenly some sappy line that just didn't say things as deeply or as well. Like in the beginning, when Lucy said, "I thought you were my friend," to dissuade Mr. Tumnus from kidnapping her. What? It seemed so jarringly sentimental. And why didn't Aslan say, "Let the prince win his spurs," to indicate that Peter should fight the wolf, instead of this insipid, "It's Peter's fight," thing? Because young children don't know what that means? I didn't know when I read it, but it has a beauty to it, it flows... and I figured it out. In fact, I remember it because I learned it in this context, I remember the beauty of it. I missed the Professor examining the children in the beginning... I think it was a nice little glimpse into their characters. And I really thought the discussion about whether Lucy was mad or whatever had all its bewildering tightness removed when the litany about what they teach them in these schools was lessened, and the "either she is lying, or she is mad, or she is telling the truth" thing changed. I mean, some of them were just my pet lines that were cut away, but some were seriously weakened. Especially at the Beavers' house... I kept being annoyed by the additional lines/sparring of Mr. and Mrs. Beaver and I couldn't quite figure out why... I think in this case I was less annoyed by what was there as by what was missing. Most notably: "Wrong will be right when Aslan comes into sight. At the sound of his roar, sorrows will be no more. When he bares his teeth, winter meets its death. And when he shakes his mane, we will have Spring again." I mean, come on, why would you cut that? That's really important! And beauiful! But lots of the discussion of Aslan was cut, actually, and I thought that was really bad. They never talked about the fact that he was a lion and not a man. They never talked about his nature, and the good but not safe thing... or, they did, actually, but not till the end. They never talked about how scary he could be. I missed that. There were so many instances of this dialogue disappointment, and now I can't remember them all... oh, but this was a big deal... the whole part when Susan and Lucy are walking with Aslan was weakened a lot because Aslan just kind of kept going along, and didn't ever seem that upset, and didn't say (I think) "Children, why are you following me?" or (more importantly) "Put your hands in my mane, that I may feel that you are there." That might not be an exact quote... but I think it's very important both that they are invited to do that, instead of just doing it, because it marks a transition and new intimacy in their relationship with Aslan, and that the statement shows Aslan's loneliness and vulnerability at that moment, which makes the entire thing much more intimate and personal and meaningful. And then the lines he had at the end seemed so stiff... In the lines themselves, not in the delivery, which I highly approved. I know there were lots more, in fact, and even more of Aslan's lines... or, like when Aslan is preparing Peter for battle, and Peter says, "But you'll be there yourself, Aslan," and Aslan replies, "I can give you no promise of that." I missed that. Oh, and when the Witch had him on the table and was like, "I'm very disappointed in you," or whatever, I was displeased. That whole scene is very big, very mythic and resonant, and I like the ritualistic feeling of the Witch's words as they are written. So basically... screenwriters, you have some lovely, lovely ideas. I do like your sense of the story arc. But let Lewis keep most of the dialogue. It's good. It's mythic. It's lovely. And whatever you do, DON'T try to simplify it or modernize it. PLEASE. PLEASE! One last example: When Aslan came back, and was explaining, and was like, "The Witch didn't know the power of sacrifice," I wanted to groan. No Deeper Magic From Before the Dawn of Time? People are coming back from the dead. That's mythic and huge! It deserves mythic language. And that also eliminated the whole thing where Lucy sort of accuses him of putting them through hell for nothing, and he says it had never been tested... God, I love that.
Which I think, though it's not really dialogue related, brings me to the one thing I truly missed about Lucy: her moments of impetuousness that are too much, her moments of defiance toward Aslan, even though she loves him so deeply, maybe the most deeply. While I LOVED the special relationship they built between Peter and Edmund, and the way Peter finally embraced him when Edmund was healed by the fireflower juice, I HATED the fact that they then cut Lucy hovering over Edmund, Aslan trying to get her to move on, her snapping at him, and Aslan finally saying "Must more people die for Edmund?" It's such a great part... it's such a significant part. It establishes a lot about Lucy and Aslan in just a moment.
Oh... another interesting omission that I don't know how I feel about: The little debate between Susan and Lucy about whether Edmund knew what Aslan had done for him, and whether he ought to know. I always thought that part was sort of... puzzling, maybe because I couldn't decide whether I agreed with Susan that it would be too awful for him to know, or with Lucy that he ought to be told. I think I mostly agreed with Lucy, but it seemed to be left at the idea that it would be a horrible thing that he should be spared. However, I always assumed that he did know, in later years and whatnot. Anyway, maybe they found that bit puzzling too, and therefore left it out?
And one more thing that I liked... I was interested in how they were going to deal with Father Christmas' assertion that "battles are ugly when women fight." And changing it to "battles are ugly affairs" was neat, true, and non-sexist. :)
And the end, where they are crowned, and Aslan's departure, and the going back to England part... all very, very good.
All right, this has gone on long enough. Suffice it to say that I can't wait to see this again, despite the somewhat mixed review I have given. And I also want to see the old version again and give the books another go.
Because, at the end of the day, Narnia is Narnia, and almost anyone who's ever been there always wants to get back.
How can you tell?
Something about the eyes, I think. :) Long live the true King.
Monday, November 28, 2005
Five Questions From Alex
Alex, your questions are fascinating, but rather hard! I have done my best:
1. Name one skill or talent you always wish you had developed more fully or pursued. What do you think kept you from following this path?
Well... it's hard to say, really, because there aren't a lot of talents I'm aware of that I haven't pursued at all. I would say singing, since it's been a couple of years since I really sang with any official regularity, though I hope to get back into that again soon. It's funny, because I do notice the lack of singing, but it's something other people point out to me more. Like at Thanksgiving, Skip (my mom's friend's husband) told me he had always imagined me pursuing a musical career, and then my dad asked, "What about your music, your singing?" as we were talking about various developments and pursuits in my life. I think I also wish I had time/space/inclination at the time to have studied more history in college. I still really like history but I feel that my education in it has been completely cut off. I think that in terms of the singing, I was never certain that I loved it enough to pursue it to the exclusion of other activities, and in college it became hard to be as pluralistic as I had been in high school. Now, I am nervous that I will not find a group that I am trained enough for, or that I will have to sight read or do something scary... but mostly I hope that soon I find a good singing group and the time to do it. In terms of history, it was simply a matter of where my coursework led me at the time. One thing I sort of hate about higher education is that you get more and more specialized the higher you go, so in some ways you learn less.
2. [ Alright, this isn't particularly creative, but it's a question I tend to ask people] Would you rather wake up one morning and find yourself deaf or blind? Why?
This is quite difficult, but I think deaf. Simply because I think it would be harder to navigate the world without my vision, and also because I couldn't read without it, and whatever misfortune befell me, I'm sure that reading would help me cope with it. Also, (sorry, this is trite), while God forbid I should ever have to use it exclusively, I have become rather enamored of finger-spelling as of late.
3. You've found yourself suddenly transported to a space ship where you are confronted by a group of aliens who have just decided that Earth must go. You are given the chance to give them, show them, or tell them about 3 things to try to convince them to do otherwise-- what do you choose?
This is the hardest one, and I've saved it for last. So hard, Alex! But a really great question.
1. The most colorful, fragrant, interesting flowers I can find.
2. I would show them a baby, and (assuming this terrible task gives me a certain omniscience) tell them the entire history of the baby's ancestry and all the people who have in some way gone into creating this baby, good and bad and indifferent, and also the complete mystery of the baby's future life.
3. I would tell the story of a war or other horrible event, with all the good and evil wrapped up together like lovers... the terrible acts and the selfless ones... I don't think it would be fair to not be honest, and I would like to think this would in truth be a strong argument to let us continue trying.
4. I know I don't get a fourth, but I really want to sing a song. Maybe I could make one of my stories an opera? Or wrap a lullaby into the baby thing?
Wow, this is making me so nervous. I hope my choices could save the world....
4. You get to spend a week in any fictional place (it can be from any source--tv/movie/books/comics/myths/etc) where do you choose and why? [if you feel so inclined you can get into what you would do there/who you would want to meet and so on)
Considering that I used to stand under lampposts in hope, I would have to pick Narnia. And I suppose I would most want to meet Mr. Tumnus (is that spelled right?) and Reepicheep and Puddleglum. Well... and Aslan, certainly. Wow, as unlikely as this is, I'm getting all excited about it. Oh, the why is basically because it is the first fantasy world I really inhabited in my imagination, and it is so... formative, to me. The experiences I've had of Narnia have colored the way I view a lot of things. Sort of in terms of ideas, but even more in terms of atmosphere... every single time I have gone abroad there has been something that related back to Narnia. When I am in tunnels or caves I chant to myself, "Many sink down to the underworld, but few return to the sunlit lands." I had to try Turkish Delight when I finally found it in a candy store. I named my lizard Eustace Clarence Scrubb. My knowledge of mythical creatures is heavily Narnian. I know why the wardrobe worked. And every time I see a real wardrobe, I remember that it would be very foolish to shut myself inside... but I also have to feel the back to make sure. I learned what single combat and treachery are because of their presence in the books. And whenever I imagine a hell I can imagine (as in, not the vengence of an angry God), it is really the non-vision of a circle of hungry dwarves. This is not really a description of what I would do in Narnia so much as a hymn to my love of the stories... but it's hard to say what I would do. Aside from retrace the steps of my friends... I think I would like to see what Father Christmas would give me, if given the chance. And of course I would want to go to Caer Paravel. But mostly I would want a real adventure... with companions and purpose and danger and everything... whatever the Lion would send me! ;)
5. Is there a piece of art/literature/music that you feel draws a gut level response or reaction from you no matter how many times you see it (or read it, or hear it)? What is it and what is the reaction?
I don't know if this is literally every time, but I definitely cried the first several times I heard Leningrad by Billy Joel. Something about the message of universality made through such specific imagery, and maybe the fact that I could concretely connect the historical events he describes in that song to my parents... but it totally hit me, in this very visceral way. I think because it seemed so sad and real the way that we cut ourselves off from each other according to the political/national "enemies" that we are supposed to have... and actually kill for that... but the differences we die for are not as real as the similarities. I'm not sure that says what I want it to say, but the song is really something. I can think of very few songs that have ever made me cry, even ones I care a lot about, or I think are very beautiful. In fact, that might be the only one that actually did, as opposed to just choking me up or something.
I want to say "Six Apologies, Lord," by Olena Kalytiak Davis because I just worked real hard to find it, but I'm not sure it makes quite such a strong impression on me this time around. It's still a really wonderful and fascinating poem, though, so here you go:
I Have Loved My Horrible Self, Lord.
I Rose, Lord, And I Rose, Lord, And I,
Dropt. Your Requirements, Lord. 'Spite Your Requirements, Lord,
I Have Loved The Low Voltage Of The Moon, Lord,
Until There Was No Moon Intensity Left, Lord, No Moon Intensity Left
For You, Lord. I Have Loved The Frivolous, The Fleeting, The Frightful
Clouds. Lord, I Have Loved Clouds! Do Not Forgive Me, Do Not
Forgive Me LordandLover, HarborandMaster, GuardianandBread, Do Not.
Hold Me, Lord, O, Hold Me
Accountable, Lord. I Am
Accountable. Lord.
Lord It Over Me,
Lord It Over Me, Lord. Feed Me
Hope, Lord. Feed Me
Hope, Lord, Or Break My Teeth.
Break My Teeth, Sir,
In This My Mouth.
Well, after reading it over a few times, it seems to still have a strong pull for me, so good. In that vein, the "Batter my heart, three-personed God," sonnet of John Donne's is always impactful. I think I always love the combination of somewhat helpless faith and defiance and submission... in a way. Reminds me of this homily I just heard where the priest compared everyone to sheep or goats. And I was like, um, I'm definitely a goat, but that doesn't mean I don't believe in God... I really didn't care for him.
Mmm, and jumping back to music, the Moonlight Sonata always takes me on a journey through mystery, darkness, and hope... such beautiful, meaningful sounds.
I'm going on and on here, aren't I? But I'm not ready to stop. Let me add: The Winter Prince by Elizabeth Wein, because it is always incredibly beautiful and captivating to me, and in a way that apparently is particular to me, which I think is interesting.
And finally, for visual art... that one in the Philadelphia art museum with the soldiers all photographed rather grotesquely always shocks/fascinates me. Likewise the one where you have to look through a little peephole in the wooden gate. And that picture of the two girls... I never remember the name or anything, but Rachel will...
1. Name one skill or talent you always wish you had developed more fully or pursued. What do you think kept you from following this path?
Well... it's hard to say, really, because there aren't a lot of talents I'm aware of that I haven't pursued at all. I would say singing, since it's been a couple of years since I really sang with any official regularity, though I hope to get back into that again soon. It's funny, because I do notice the lack of singing, but it's something other people point out to me more. Like at Thanksgiving, Skip (my mom's friend's husband) told me he had always imagined me pursuing a musical career, and then my dad asked, "What about your music, your singing?" as we were talking about various developments and pursuits in my life. I think I also wish I had time/space/inclination at the time to have studied more history in college. I still really like history but I feel that my education in it has been completely cut off. I think that in terms of the singing, I was never certain that I loved it enough to pursue it to the exclusion of other activities, and in college it became hard to be as pluralistic as I had been in high school. Now, I am nervous that I will not find a group that I am trained enough for, or that I will have to sight read or do something scary... but mostly I hope that soon I find a good singing group and the time to do it. In terms of history, it was simply a matter of where my coursework led me at the time. One thing I sort of hate about higher education is that you get more and more specialized the higher you go, so in some ways you learn less.
2. [ Alright, this isn't particularly creative, but it's a question I tend to ask people] Would you rather wake up one morning and find yourself deaf or blind? Why?
This is quite difficult, but I think deaf. Simply because I think it would be harder to navigate the world without my vision, and also because I couldn't read without it, and whatever misfortune befell me, I'm sure that reading would help me cope with it. Also, (sorry, this is trite), while God forbid I should ever have to use it exclusively, I have become rather enamored of finger-spelling as of late.
3. You've found yourself suddenly transported to a space ship where you are confronted by a group of aliens who have just decided that Earth must go. You are given the chance to give them, show them, or tell them about 3 things to try to convince them to do otherwise-- what do you choose?
This is the hardest one, and I've saved it for last. So hard, Alex! But a really great question.
1. The most colorful, fragrant, interesting flowers I can find.
2. I would show them a baby, and (assuming this terrible task gives me a certain omniscience) tell them the entire history of the baby's ancestry and all the people who have in some way gone into creating this baby, good and bad and indifferent, and also the complete mystery of the baby's future life.
3. I would tell the story of a war or other horrible event, with all the good and evil wrapped up together like lovers... the terrible acts and the selfless ones... I don't think it would be fair to not be honest, and I would like to think this would in truth be a strong argument to let us continue trying.
4. I know I don't get a fourth, but I really want to sing a song. Maybe I could make one of my stories an opera? Or wrap a lullaby into the baby thing?
Wow, this is making me so nervous. I hope my choices could save the world....
4. You get to spend a week in any fictional place (it can be from any source--tv/movie/books/comics/myths/etc) where do you choose and why? [if you feel so inclined you can get into what you would do there/who you would want to meet and so on)
Considering that I used to stand under lampposts in hope, I would have to pick Narnia. And I suppose I would most want to meet Mr. Tumnus (is that spelled right?) and Reepicheep and Puddleglum. Well... and Aslan, certainly. Wow, as unlikely as this is, I'm getting all excited about it. Oh, the why is basically because it is the first fantasy world I really inhabited in my imagination, and it is so... formative, to me. The experiences I've had of Narnia have colored the way I view a lot of things. Sort of in terms of ideas, but even more in terms of atmosphere... every single time I have gone abroad there has been something that related back to Narnia. When I am in tunnels or caves I chant to myself, "Many sink down to the underworld, but few return to the sunlit lands." I had to try Turkish Delight when I finally found it in a candy store. I named my lizard Eustace Clarence Scrubb. My knowledge of mythical creatures is heavily Narnian. I know why the wardrobe worked. And every time I see a real wardrobe, I remember that it would be very foolish to shut myself inside... but I also have to feel the back to make sure. I learned what single combat and treachery are because of their presence in the books. And whenever I imagine a hell I can imagine (as in, not the vengence of an angry God), it is really the non-vision of a circle of hungry dwarves. This is not really a description of what I would do in Narnia so much as a hymn to my love of the stories... but it's hard to say what I would do. Aside from retrace the steps of my friends... I think I would like to see what Father Christmas would give me, if given the chance. And of course I would want to go to Caer Paravel. But mostly I would want a real adventure... with companions and purpose and danger and everything... whatever the Lion would send me! ;)
5. Is there a piece of art/literature/music that you feel draws a gut level response or reaction from you no matter how many times you see it (or read it, or hear it)? What is it and what is the reaction?
I don't know if this is literally every time, but I definitely cried the first several times I heard Leningrad by Billy Joel. Something about the message of universality made through such specific imagery, and maybe the fact that I could concretely connect the historical events he describes in that song to my parents... but it totally hit me, in this very visceral way. I think because it seemed so sad and real the way that we cut ourselves off from each other according to the political/national "enemies" that we are supposed to have... and actually kill for that... but the differences we die for are not as real as the similarities. I'm not sure that says what I want it to say, but the song is really something. I can think of very few songs that have ever made me cry, even ones I care a lot about, or I think are very beautiful. In fact, that might be the only one that actually did, as opposed to just choking me up or something.
I want to say "Six Apologies, Lord," by Olena Kalytiak Davis because I just worked real hard to find it, but I'm not sure it makes quite such a strong impression on me this time around. It's still a really wonderful and fascinating poem, though, so here you go:
I Have Loved My Horrible Self, Lord.
I Rose, Lord, And I Rose, Lord, And I,
Dropt. Your Requirements, Lord. 'Spite Your Requirements, Lord,
I Have Loved The Low Voltage Of The Moon, Lord,
Until There Was No Moon Intensity Left, Lord, No Moon Intensity Left
For You, Lord. I Have Loved The Frivolous, The Fleeting, The Frightful
Clouds. Lord, I Have Loved Clouds! Do Not Forgive Me, Do Not
Forgive Me LordandLover, HarborandMaster, GuardianandBread, Do Not.
Hold Me, Lord, O, Hold Me
Accountable, Lord. I Am
Accountable. Lord.
Lord It Over Me,
Lord It Over Me, Lord. Feed Me
Hope, Lord. Feed Me
Hope, Lord, Or Break My Teeth.
Break My Teeth, Sir,
In This My Mouth.
Well, after reading it over a few times, it seems to still have a strong pull for me, so good. In that vein, the "Batter my heart, three-personed God," sonnet of John Donne's is always impactful. I think I always love the combination of somewhat helpless faith and defiance and submission... in a way. Reminds me of this homily I just heard where the priest compared everyone to sheep or goats. And I was like, um, I'm definitely a goat, but that doesn't mean I don't believe in God... I really didn't care for him.
Mmm, and jumping back to music, the Moonlight Sonata always takes me on a journey through mystery, darkness, and hope... such beautiful, meaningful sounds.
I'm going on and on here, aren't I? But I'm not ready to stop. Let me add: The Winter Prince by Elizabeth Wein, because it is always incredibly beautiful and captivating to me, and in a way that apparently is particular to me, which I think is interesting.
And finally, for visual art... that one in the Philadelphia art museum with the soldiers all photographed rather grotesquely always shocks/fascinates me. Likewise the one where you have to look through a little peephole in the wooden gate. And that picture of the two girls... I never remember the name or anything, but Rachel will...
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