rednoW Favorites 2009

Year-end "lists" are a funny thing.  They often say more about its contributor(s) than it does than the very thing it is hoping to promote.  We are okay with this.  It has been our mantra since the inception of rednoW to simply point others to experiences of wonder.  These two lists (music, film) are attempting to do nothing else.

Films

Few things cultivate wonder in us more than the marriage of story, images and song. If you are looking for a way to bring a little wonder into your rental queue, allow us to make a few recommendations. Compiled by the rednoW team, our Films of Wonder 2009 are listed by US release date rather than some ranking of 'greateness' - if they made the list, we think they are worth your time and money. Soon we will announce our rednoW film (and album) of the year.

Think we missed something? Tell us what and why....we're all ears.

"What does he know?"

This is, throughout the ravaged landscape of The Book of Eli, the unavoidable question we ask of the title character.  Denzel Washington plays Eli, a wanderer both desperate and serene, who trudges slowly and purposefully West.  Hidden in his satchel, along with the necessities for physical survival in post-apocalyptic America, is a Holy Book, Eli's spiritual sustenance in a world that- quite literally- would like nothing more than to devour him.  We are given only small clues of the brutalizing past that left the world coated in dust and misery, but the desperate and thirsty present proves no place for a lone traveler.  Unless, like Eli, that traveler possesses an otherworldly sixth sense and the ability to dispatch with anyone who threatens his journey.  What does Eli know about his book?  Is it madness or a spiritual quest that wakes him each morning, set for another day under the punishing sun?

More often than not commentaries and interpretations tend to direct one to think about specific ideas and messages being conveyed through a movie. Or, we are forced to consider how well a mainstream (read that “POP”) commercial release covered the seriousness of a subject while maintaining a high level of entertainment value to keep the viewers attention, often at the cost of the “message”. I find that it is rare for a film to come along that one can engage with on a level that simply makes one feel good; to experience a visceral moment of happiness. My Date with Drew is that movie.

At the onset of 2009, a few of the writers here at rednoW decided to embark on a little experiment: See 100 films. In the midst of this endeavor, we could not help but rethink what rednoW is all about. It has been our hope not to simply point others towards film and music (of wonder) per say, but to also begin to rethink how we are actually experiencing such mediums.

Something we often felt throughout the so-called "Centurion Project" is that we wished more people were seeing some of the same films in order to have additional outlets to discuss.  In other words, we were longing for a bit more of a communal experience.

So, what are we proposing?

Join us in 2010.

For the upcoming year, we are inviting you to delve "into the dark" with us - a project inspired by rednoW's de facto sage Craig Detweiler - and his latest book Into the Dark. In short, we are inviting you to experience 60 films this year (5 films per month). We are by no means intending to be exclusive in who is a part of this project, but we are hoping for a committed group.

How it will Work...

In the routine of our daily life, it is doubtful there is anything more powerful than our words.  By words we are loved, destroyed, comforted, frightened, molded, and inspired.  Words spoken have often changed history.  Words greatly define the reality in which we live and the identity we take.  It is true in our politics, our religion, and our relationships.  Words and our humanity are inextricably enmeshed.

But, can the power of words be lost?  What happens if it is?  And how is that power restored?

A few years ago at the Sundance Film Festival (2006), I encountered the film "Forgiven."   On the surface, the film appears to be about a Southern, Jesus-talking, small town D.A. named Peter Miles, who is running for the U.S. Senate.  His life becomes jarred by the last minute release of Ronald Bradler, a poor, black, death-row inmate he had improperly prosecuted.  But it is quite evident that Paul Fitzgerald (who wrote, directed, and starred in the film) is pressing deeper than the issues of capital punishment, racism, or corruption.

He is exposing the emptiness of our words.  And with that, quite possibly, the emptiness of ourselves.  Do we really feel the words we say?  Do we really comprehend, feel, taste their significance?

What Apple product do you first remember seeing?  Or using?  Was it a MacBook?  An iPhone?  What is it about Apple that makes its products so appealing, so memorable, so desirable?  What is it about Apple's design that makes it, well, so good?

In the Documentary Objectified, the second part of a three-film "design trilogy" (read a write-up on the first film of the trilogy, Helvetica here), director Gary Huswit explores how manufacturing design and the objects we use every day without even thinking about them affect our lives and become a part of our stories.

This begins to make sense once you realize that from the moment we wake up almost everything that fills our world has been designed in one way or another.  From the post-it note on our fridge to the potato peeler we'll use to make mashed potatoes for Thanksgiving dinner to the digital camera that captures our favorite moments, it turns out that the objects we use every day come from someone who created them for a specific purpose in a very intentional way.  These objects not only greatly affect the practicalities and comfort of our lives, they also make a statement about who we are.

When my son loaded up in his cousin’s little powered Jeep and started driving around their lawn he declared to all listening, “We're cruising the dunes to Tiki Beach!”

No one knew what he was talking about. They just laughed and said something to the effect of “Where do kids come up with this stuff?”

I know where he got it. He got it from TV.

My son has a small obsession with a particular kids show. When he plays—when he turns on his imagination—it is often what comes pouring back out. His experiences are the fuel his imagination burns on.

Spike Jonze had a daunting task when he took on Where The Wild Things Are. He was making a film about one of America’s favorite children’s books, which happens to have a minimalist story line. How do you do not lose the simplicity of this story while stretching it to fit the screen of a feature length film?

I heard about Capitalism: A Love Story by watching Jay Leno’s new show on NBC. Leno interviewed Moore for about 8 minutes. It looked like this: two really rich guys, talking about how much capitalism is sucking for some other group of people. It is amazing because Moore actually calls capitalism “evil“ in his film. Of course it is an evil that he is trying to gain from by promoting his film on a program hosted by a guy who owns over 80 cars. (Now that is must see comedy. Way to go NBC.)

You now have two options. If you do not want to learn from Michael Moore’s latest film, then take the previous paragraph as your basis for writing it off. You also have the choice to learn from a hypocrite. This is the same choice you have every time you learn anything from anyone. It’s just that it is more obvious with Moore on this topic. So, if you are willing to learn from an unlikely teacher, here is your other (better) option:

According to recent statistics, approximately 5.4 million people have died over the last decade as a result of the ongoing warfare in the Congo. 2.2 million people die every year as a result of the global aids pandemic. 16,000 children die every day due to hunger related causes.  And there are an estimated 45 million displaced refugees around the world today - only 2.5 million of which are cared for by the United Nations.

The question remains: Who cares?

According to recent thought, you don't. And here's why.  When was the last time you actually did anything to benefit a particular crisis as a result of numbers?

Sure, there is some faction of tenderness in each of us.  But every time a society gets inundated with harsh statistics, complacency sets in. Experts refer to this phenomenon as psychic numbing - the "deprivation of compassion and deadening of feelings when one is confronted by appalling images, facts, or statistics." Is the West on the verge of a colossal compassion collapse?  Are we numbed by the numbers?