I attended the Nashville screening of the new Rich Mullins "Ragamuffin" film last night before a full house at Collins Auditorium at David Lipscomb Univ.
As a friend of Rich's from '84 to '97, I was hesitant about how I would react to a film about such a complex person who wrestled mightily with fanfare and acclaim. My fears were generally allayed, and for a small budget film by a first-time producer/director, it is pretty good. Most of this is due to the performance in the lead role by Michael Koch, who compellingly captures the creative side of Rich (he is an accomplished pianist/guitarist, and nails Rich's vocal delivery and onstage patter), as well as the brooding, intense side of Mullins' personality.
Some of the drawbacks include: editing weaknesses (it is unnecessarily long at 2 hours and 20 minutes, and somewhat repetitive in several themes); an overly simplistic (and oft brutal) critique of the music biz that deserves more nuance; primitive sets (the recording and radio studios are laughable), and some key characters in Rich's life that were completely ignored. It would've also been nice to see a bit more of Rich's unbridled kindness and silly/impish/downright hilarious sides. But these flaws are not so glaring that it renders the film unwatchable.
To the contrary, the essence of Rich's struggles with an unloving father, alcohol, disappointments in relationships, and loneliness drive the narrative and keep you wondering if/how he would ever find some degree of peace and acceptance. It doesn't give a lot of neat, tidy Christian platitudes or easy resolve. How could it if it were to be honest about the living paradox that was Rich Mullins? So, I give it an A- for effort, a C- for technique, and an overall grade of B- for residual impact it will leave with the viewer. For anyone who was a fan of Rich, or wishes to see faith being wrestled-out with earnest grit, then I recommend "Ragamuffin."
My longtime friend, Bernie Sheahan, wrote this review which gives some further coloring which I agree with...
"I saw "Ragamuffin" last week here in California and was pretty nervous about how I'd react. (Forgot my Kleenex, so I stole a whole roll of toilet paper from the church bathroom!) I knew Rich very well and for a long time. (I'm one of many, and aren't we lucky? Blessed.) He was one of six people at my 25th birthday dinner, in 1982. So when I saw the trailer online, I had a bit of a freak-out. Too weird. I knew David Mullins was part of this, but still...how could they capture him, and how dare they make a movie when he would have hated the thought of it?
"At the end of the film, they had a Q&A session with the director, David Leo Schultz. I hopped right up--"pick me, pick me!" No questions. Just this: "Thank you...Rich was a dear friend of mine...I was afraid I'd yell out or throw things at the screen, but you got him. Thank you for showing the shadows." I said a lot more (you know me; I'm Irish) but in talking to Schultz later on I realized that Rich would have loved him. You will, too.
"As Kathy Sprinkle told me, it's not a biopic. This isn't a chronological, get-everything, History Of Rich Mullins. Don't be upset about not seeing "Rich" in shoes or sweaters, as in his real life, in winter or on hot pavement. Movies are about images. The white t-shirt and bare feet are symbolic, really. I'm sorry if I just just pulled a 'Film as Lit' teacher thing on you.
"The images are lovely. David Schultz did a marvelous job with a tiny budget. He goes from Indiana to Cincinnati to Nashville to Wichita to "the res" along the open roads with color and light that match Rich's musical palette and poetic vision. You'll have to ask him if those are actual locations. I can vouch for a few of them as the real thing. There's one that's surely not, and it doesn't matter, because any countryside four-lane highway will do. That scene is handled with grace and mercy: it's brief, tells little, and moves quickly from dark mystery to sunny memory and life most real.
"You Nashville folk will laugh your head off in some places. There was only so much they could do with a small budget, I guess. No matter. See it with an open heart. Put aside your feelings about the music business, either way (this is, shall we say, less than sympathetic to the "industry" point of view).
"What it does is present the essence of Rich. How he was, as in the title of his brother's book, "an arrow pointing to heaven". Rich didn't want you to "get" him. He wanted you to get God--to be gotten by Him. The director found, in the four years working on the film, that Rich Mullins has some intensely loyal fans. Yup. Some who seemed to almost worship Rich more than God. Rich, shall we say, discouraged that. "Be God's" -- that's how he signed every autograph. Be God's. So it's not that important, really, what I think about how Rich was portrayed in any film. I am a loyal friend, yes. But he never said, "Be Rich's." Even so, I, and all of us who knew him, are a little protective of his essence. As dumb as that may sound.
"The fellow who plays Rich was not an actor but a musician, and he surprised me with his skill and passion. He sounds like him, enough for me to lose myself in the story for much of its length (it's long!) He does the shadows well. And this film doesn't shirk from the dark, thank goodness. He's exuberant, he spins, he gets angry. He's not funny and playful like Rich--it's not in his repertoire, not in his personality. That's OK. He pulls it off well enough that it made me miss Rich. A lot. That's something, considering it's an actor who's singing and playing, talking, saying things like "You like it? You really like it?"
"I like it. I really like it." -Bernie Sheahan
Listing of all the showings and where to get tix here (once you get to the page, click on the "Events " tab):
http://www.itickets.com/artists/27150/Rich%20Mullins%20Film_concert
Showing posts with label film. Show all posts
Showing posts with label film. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
Thursday, June 30, 2011
"The Tree of Life" is Terrence Malick's Masterstroke
Terrance Malik’s films have always been difficult to describe, and yet much ink and binary code has been dispensed trying to do so. The Tree of Life is just the fifth movie of his thirty-eight year career, and it appears that it is the masterstroke for which he will be most remembered.
On opening night in Nashville last Friday, the packed-out Belcourt Theater was buzzing with anticipation. After all, Malick is sixty-seven now, and this could very well be his final effort. For those who appreciate artistic expression and philosophical breadth therein, The Tree of Life is bursting with the ever-evolving complexities that make up our lives…and Life itself.
I’ve always described Malick’s style as “visual tone poems.” Hard to define, yet full of perception. Abstract, ponderous, and even audacious in its scope. You know when a film opens with portions of the 38th chapter of Job where God asks of the man’s ability (or lack thereof) to comprehend His ways, that substantive weight will ensue.
There are basically two story lines interchanging throughout The Tree of Life. First is the somewhat biographical story of filmmaker’s upbringing in Waco, TX during the 1950s and how it has haunted him into his adulthood. Simultaneously, there is much representation in stunning special effect and visual manipulation of deep space images showing the very beginnings of the universe. The wow factor is high as we see the progressive development of galaxies, then into our solar system, our planet, and the epochs that brought life here in its various stages. And even though the seventh day was set aside for rest and reflection, it apparently is not just in the past, but a still unfolding present that can cause continual awe. As the interwoven themes reach their end, it would seem clear that we are, indeed, all made up of star dust and mutually share much in common.
That is where the Everyman themes of the formation of a family anchor the piece; “hitting home,” as it were. The scenes of infancy within the Texan family are some of the most innocent yet captured on celluloid. The closest I can think of would be the excellent documentary, Babies, which came out a year ago. These waifs are completely unaware of a camera as they sleep, explore, and interact with others.
As the family grows from just Mr. and Mrs. O’Brian (played with intensity and lovely restraint by Brad Pitt and Jessica Chastain, respectively), to three sons, it settles in around the time that the kids are aged nine, eleven, and thirteen. The eldest, Jack, begins exploring the boundaries of his will vs. his father’s, and much tension ensues. There are scenes of cruelty, overbearing discipline, and deep rage that bring forth long-lasting fear and insecurity. But there are also times of unfettered joy, camaraderie, and familial bonding that we can all recognize in the unpredictable relationships of our upbringings.
It is when death is introduced on several occasions, and the subsequent grappling with grief that is rendered over many decades that I was most moved. The bewilderment and depression generates many brief prayers—mostly in the form of questions—that are whispered over these contemplative scenes. Having lost my Father and fourteen friends over the past several years, I found myself fighting back tears at various moments that resonated deeply.
And even God can grieve. That is shown as the series of images play out. We all long for that coming back together, a unity beyond the splintered status quo.
When we see Jack as an adult (played quite pensively with very little dialogue by Sean Penn), he has developed into an even more regimented version of his dad. Equally creative, yet living in a very linear, hard-edged world of sharp angles, glass, steel, structure, and meticulous order of an architect. He has tried to control his life, and yet he is overwhelmed with a sense that there is something profound, even transcendent that must be in play for it all to make sense. He is grappling with the meaning of it all, and simultaneously trying to “break on through to the other side,” as Jim Morrison once wailed. He is longing to be free of these entanglements, and perhaps even more so, to be forgiven. There is much imagery of open windows and doorways beckoning the viewer to depart from the past, see beyond the present, and perhaps enter-in to a new perspective.
The characters tell us that there are basically two ways of understanding life: either through the lens of harsh Nature, or through the eyes of Grace. The first is represented with clutching, domination, grabbing, bitterness, confrontation, demand, uncertainty, jealousy, fighting, revenge, and arbitrary violence. The second is shown via more feminine qualities like patience, kindness, play, creativity, laughter, compassion, embraces, warm touch, reassuring forgiveness, open skies, dancing flocks of birds, light in the midst of darkness, and the wide expanse of the constantly birthing universe. Some have commented that, in essence, the father represents the Old Testament, and the mother the New Testament.
Only a few other films have been as visually evocative as this one for me: 2001: A Space Odyssey, and Koyanisqqatsi: Life Out of Balance. Both were heavy on imagery of how mankind has missed the point of the glory of creation, that our humanness is very much imbued with something much more eternal beyond the scope of our own machinations. Likewise, those masterpieces, as with The Tree of Life, do wonders with evocative scores that include music from symphonic geniuses, as well as searing stretches where no sound is proffered at all. The silence makes some of the images all the more is reverential; the moments more profound. We live in that silence, that pause between breathing-in and exhaling.
It is those contrasts that make this such an exhilarating piece of art. We are prompted--maybe even reminded--that science and religion are inextricably connected, just like doubt and faith, conflict and resolution, life and death.
In the end, the essence of The Tree of Life seems to come down to the same themes told in the oldest story known in recorded history, that of Job. Ultimately we have to release what we are holding onto that is painful and surrender to God who put everything, including us, in play.
For anyone who is ponders things beyond the stuff of earth, I highly recommend The Tree of Life to encourage your steps along the curious way.
On opening night in Nashville last Friday, the packed-out Belcourt Theater was buzzing with anticipation. After all, Malick is sixty-seven now, and this could very well be his final effort. For those who appreciate artistic expression and philosophical breadth therein, The Tree of Life is bursting with the ever-evolving complexities that make up our lives…and Life itself.
I’ve always described Malick’s style as “visual tone poems.” Hard to define, yet full of perception. Abstract, ponderous, and even audacious in its scope. You know when a film opens with portions of the 38th chapter of Job where God asks of the man’s ability (or lack thereof) to comprehend His ways, that substantive weight will ensue.
There are basically two story lines interchanging throughout The Tree of Life. First is the somewhat biographical story of filmmaker’s upbringing in Waco, TX during the 1950s and how it has haunted him into his adulthood. Simultaneously, there is much representation in stunning special effect and visual manipulation of deep space images showing the very beginnings of the universe. The wow factor is high as we see the progressive development of galaxies, then into our solar system, our planet, and the epochs that brought life here in its various stages. And even though the seventh day was set aside for rest and reflection, it apparently is not just in the past, but a still unfolding present that can cause continual awe. As the interwoven themes reach their end, it would seem clear that we are, indeed, all made up of star dust and mutually share much in common.
That is where the Everyman themes of the formation of a family anchor the piece; “hitting home,” as it were. The scenes of infancy within the Texan family are some of the most innocent yet captured on celluloid. The closest I can think of would be the excellent documentary, Babies, which came out a year ago. These waifs are completely unaware of a camera as they sleep, explore, and interact with others.
As the family grows from just Mr. and Mrs. O’Brian (played with intensity and lovely restraint by Brad Pitt and Jessica Chastain, respectively), to three sons, it settles in around the time that the kids are aged nine, eleven, and thirteen. The eldest, Jack, begins exploring the boundaries of his will vs. his father’s, and much tension ensues. There are scenes of cruelty, overbearing discipline, and deep rage that bring forth long-lasting fear and insecurity. But there are also times of unfettered joy, camaraderie, and familial bonding that we can all recognize in the unpredictable relationships of our upbringings.
It is when death is introduced on several occasions, and the subsequent grappling with grief that is rendered over many decades that I was most moved. The bewilderment and depression generates many brief prayers—mostly in the form of questions—that are whispered over these contemplative scenes. Having lost my Father and fourteen friends over the past several years, I found myself fighting back tears at various moments that resonated deeply.
And even God can grieve. That is shown as the series of images play out. We all long for that coming back together, a unity beyond the splintered status quo.
When we see Jack as an adult (played quite pensively with very little dialogue by Sean Penn), he has developed into an even more regimented version of his dad. Equally creative, yet living in a very linear, hard-edged world of sharp angles, glass, steel, structure, and meticulous order of an architect. He has tried to control his life, and yet he is overwhelmed with a sense that there is something profound, even transcendent that must be in play for it all to make sense. He is grappling with the meaning of it all, and simultaneously trying to “break on through to the other side,” as Jim Morrison once wailed. He is longing to be free of these entanglements, and perhaps even more so, to be forgiven. There is much imagery of open windows and doorways beckoning the viewer to depart from the past, see beyond the present, and perhaps enter-in to a new perspective.
The characters tell us that there are basically two ways of understanding life: either through the lens of harsh Nature, or through the eyes of Grace. The first is represented with clutching, domination, grabbing, bitterness, confrontation, demand, uncertainty, jealousy, fighting, revenge, and arbitrary violence. The second is shown via more feminine qualities like patience, kindness, play, creativity, laughter, compassion, embraces, warm touch, reassuring forgiveness, open skies, dancing flocks of birds, light in the midst of darkness, and the wide expanse of the constantly birthing universe. Some have commented that, in essence, the father represents the Old Testament, and the mother the New Testament.
Only a few other films have been as visually evocative as this one for me: 2001: A Space Odyssey, and Koyanisqqatsi: Life Out of Balance. Both were heavy on imagery of how mankind has missed the point of the glory of creation, that our humanness is very much imbued with something much more eternal beyond the scope of our own machinations. Likewise, those masterpieces, as with The Tree of Life, do wonders with evocative scores that include music from symphonic geniuses, as well as searing stretches where no sound is proffered at all. The silence makes some of the images all the more is reverential; the moments more profound. We live in that silence, that pause between breathing-in and exhaling.
It is those contrasts that make this such an exhilarating piece of art. We are prompted--maybe even reminded--that science and religion are inextricably connected, just like doubt and faith, conflict and resolution, life and death.
In the end, the essence of The Tree of Life seems to come down to the same themes told in the oldest story known in recorded history, that of Job. Ultimately we have to release what we are holding onto that is painful and surrender to God who put everything, including us, in play.
For anyone who is ponders things beyond the stuff of earth, I highly recommend The Tree of Life to encourage your steps along the curious way.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)