Film Journal 2023: The Killers of the Flower Moon
Directed by Martin Scorsese

It genuinely feels like the skies the limit in terms of this films potential to reward multiple rewatches. I suppose that comes with the territory of a 3 and a half hour epic, but even more so this is due to the mastercraft of one of cinemas greatest living directors.

If The Irishman turned the camera inward in an examination of Scorsese’s career, Killers turns the lense outwards again, this time towards the Osage people and the harrowing murder mystery that frames its source material. In truth, I have a complicated relationship with the Irishman. I felt it was too undisciplined in its approach, taking Scorsese’s penchant for rich human drama and probing complex thematic ideas and playing it through a story structure that seemed to throw caution too the wind. In Killers it feels like he’s married the brilliance of his craft to the sharpness that comes with submitting that vision to the many minds that surround him. There is a kind of collaborative spirit evidenced in this project that strives to shed light on one of the most pertinent issues of our day- the attrocoities experienced by the indigenous peoples by way of colonization. It reminded me a bit of Silence in its approach, marrying a quiet, reflective undercurrent to the intensity of its unfolding drama. In truth, I didn’t feel or notice the 3 and a half run time at all, it’s that absorbing.

One of the choices Scorsese makes here is shifting the vantage point of the story from the detectives to Lily Gladstone’s character Mollie Burkhart, an Osage woman whom marries a white man (DiCaprio’s Ernest Burkhart). I enjoyed the story in the book, but found the execution of it a little underwhelming, perhaps given to it being overhyped. The film reaches a good deal beyond the scope of the book by digging into the backdrop that lies behind the story, asking questions about the perspective of the Osage from the inside looking out. The end result is a much richer story with a much more expensive playing field.

If that change in perspective defines the film’s focus, it retains the central beats of the story when it comes to the true crime. Scorsese allows the evils to slowly percolate to the surface over the film’s runtime, giving us a real sense of the systems and the settings that give rise to such attrocoities. Even when we arrive at the story’s craziest moments, one can feel the seasoned Director desperately seeking to try and understand how and why it is these characters arrive at their decisions and do what they do. The commentary feels subtle at times, but deceptively so, and Scorsese picks his moments to really give these themes specific scenes to attach themselves to.

If the film has any issues, it would probably be not diving in to the film’s central relationship even more than it does. There is a slight tension by the time we reach the end that confuses whether this is DiCaprio’s story or Gladstone’s story. We know who the narrator is, but the one who gets the most decisive arc is DiCaprio, whom by the way gives a fascinating performance going from unconfident, well meaning and awkward man to tortured and compromised soul. His usual charisma is muted, and we can see him looking for different ways into his character. I don’t know if it’s his best, but I found it to be one of his more interesting performances.

One of the issues though is that once we are in the thick of the murder mystery, the time and space available to exploring the central relationship lessens, and it left me feeling like Gladstone’s character was left slightly underserved. The way Scorsese tells the story leaves it feeling like she is and needs to be the primary voice, and all the working parts does push back on this ambition and intention ever so slightly.

A small criticism though in a film that takes its subject matter and real world history seriously and with reverence. It bears the weight of the tragedy for it’s subjects, capturing it’s emotional heft in some truly dynamic and awe inspiring sequences. This film is known for its crazy budget, and all of that budget is on display bringing the period piece to life through practical set pieces and a dedication to authenticity, detail and design. It’s a truly stunning set production that serves the sweeping scope of its narrative.

I’m certainly happy to be settled on this one as a mix of curiosity and confidence, fully expecting that it will age gracefully and grow in appreciation over time. There is so much care given to the craft and attention given to the cultural representation, and it’s the sort of emotional punch that is less interested in evoking easy sentiment and tears and instead approaches that in a more cerebral fashion. If the film is a reminder of how privileged we all are to have this guy still making films, it’s concern and impact is far more powerful in its ability to bring the darkness of its characters experiences to light without losing the beauty and humanity of its subjects in the process.

Reading Journal 2023: Existentialism: A Very Short Introduction
Author: Thomas R. Flynn

One might ask, is it possible to write a book that breaks existentialism down into words the common person can read and understand? Flynn gives this his best shot in this short introduction. But alas, if this is any indication, such a question is bound to become its own form of an existential crisis.

In truth, I’m not sure the existential philsophers entirely understand their own ideas. In many ways, such understanding kind of betrays the point of a philosophy that is designed to live in the tension of an existence both seemingly bound by the constraints of time an beholden to the problem of infinity.

What Flynn does undoubtedly achieve however is giving us a necessary foundation from which to explore existentialism. If there is a single defining factor, Flynn breaks it down to this idea- authenticity. Existentialism is ultimately interested in locating the authentic self in response to the problem of self deception. And part of what leads this endeavor into a perpetual state of crisis is the fact that authenticity is, by its very nature, an allusive construct.

How can we speak of the self when it seems impossible to locate ourselves in the present, the past always defining us and the future always deconstructing us?

How can we speak of truth when all truth is perpetually bound to contingency?

How do reconcile the fact that our lives seem pulled and driven by conceptions of the infinite when they are simitaneously bound by time

How can we build our ideas around an idealised humanism when reality seems determined to redefine us according to the universal rules and laws of nature?

How can find joy in the midst of despair?

How do we find the real when all of the mind seems built on illusion?

How do we recognize the importance of irrationality when authenticity demands we be concerned with the rational.

How do we reposition our focus in the practicalities of living in the present when such investments demand an allegiance to the irrational experiences of awe?

How do we give allegiance to the self when reality tells us the self is a construct and an illusion?

How do we appeal to the idea of the free self when such freedom is depenendent on the external forces that define it?

How do we live when the process of life is defined by dying

How can the reality of finitude motivate us to live when to live seems to need the infinite to justify itself?

How can we speak of freedom as responsiblity when nothing in life appears to be within our contol.

These are the sorts of questions that lie underneath the density of the philosophy. It is what allows for a diversity of thought to exist within the uniformity of that existential concern for authenticity, or the authentic self. And yet this diversity of thought also exists within the realization that such concerns place the weight of existence on their shoulders. To think of such things is to be embroiled not simply in the hard matters of existence, but in the fact that a perpetual awareness of what these hard matters actually are leaves existence stuck in the tension. Its kind of like the concept of love. When we understand what love is, we are faced with the realizationn that love is the reality of a physiological process doing its thing and creating the illusion of a feeling. We are faced with the truth that such physiological realities have a clear biological purpose- suriival. We recognize that love is not some external reality that exists outside of ourselves as some motivating force. An we recognize that love is a highly manipulatable construct.

And yet, to say anything at all about the authentic self also seems to require us to give the illusion allegiance as a motivating force. To speak of love as though it is something that exists outside of ourselves. So which is more true? And how does one exist alongside the other? This is the sort of tension that gives rise to the existential crisis. When we know what is happening when we fall in love, for example, and we note the processes that give rise to the emotion, and further when we can note the process and how easy it is to manipulate it, would such manipulation be more or less authentic to the self? Take this a step further- what if love, in reality, is all a matter of manipulation based on illusions of the self? Could we still authentically fall in love?

We can apply this same reasonsing to the concept of the self. In fact, this is what all of existentialism ultimately boils down to. If the self is not some entity that exists external to our “self”, as in something preexistent that we grow into or discover, and if the self is an emergent property based on circumstance and choice, and if circumstance and choice bind the self to the external forces that shape us, then what do we do with something that can’t be whittled down to the present? If we are always becoming how can we be? And more astutely, if becoming is something we can manipulate and which is also completely beyond our control, how can we even speak about something such as authenticity in concrete terms?

It would make complete sense if you look at all that and simply choose to walk away. In some sense its easier to live rather than to think about living. And yet, at the same time the thinking matters because life is ridiculously hard. Sometimes it just seems necessary to pose the hard questions back at it. Does such angst actually have anywhere to go but into the empty space of that large philosophical void? Debatable. But it can be a way of allowing us to navigate the crisis. Or at the very least allowing us to feel like we are. For some of the existentialists there certainly was a sense of ultimate defeat lingering in the background. of this philosophical process That’s the risk. For others, there are moments of freedom that emerge, even if the path is long and treacherous and steep. This is just my observation, but where that intersection seems to meet is at the point where the authentic self meets with some sense of an ultimate reality. A freedom to say, this is true, or at the very least I can believe this to be true of reality. That is the singular, necessary facet of the process that then allows one to pursue authenticity in relationship to that ultimate reality, precisely because authenticity has something to measure itself by. And thats when we can recognize where our lives deviate from this measure and become inauthentic, or self deception. This won’t afford us certainty, but it can afford us functionality inbetween the inevitability of our next existential crisis.

Film Journal 2023: The Creator
Directed by Gareth Edwards

If Edwards proved anything to me with Rogue One, its that he knows how to tell a good, old fashioned story, and how to tell it well. His ability to do this within a well established mythos was simply a testament to his disciplined approach behind the camera.

The Creator doesn’t have these same constraints, building its mythos from the ground up, and in many ways this film is his most accomplished work yet. It all begins with his attention to detail and his commitment to shooting on location using practical effect and real world set design. The CGI is there, but it works seamlessly, integrated as it is into the films stunning design. If you get a chance, do a little digging on the cameras he used and the number of different locations he shot in. It is beyond impressive and makes use of every inch of the big screen format.

These are visual tools that he uses to tell his story, and the story itself is a richly imagined sci-fi epic told on an intimate scale and with a deep interest in questions about meaning and the nature of humanity. The story structure is built around the different movements within the story, each section centering on a central development in the plot. These sections add a piece to the puzzle while digging deeper into the ethos of our central characters. The story concerns a man named Joshua, played with real honesty and integrity by John David Washington, whom we meet in a developed relationship with a woman named Maya (Gemma Chan). Events unfold, and eventually Joshua crosses path with an advanced AI named Alphie, a nuanced and complex character that adapts to the striking range and raw talent of a young Madeleine Yuna Voyles. It is through the lives of these characters that the film finds depths to explore.

Thematically speaking, Edwards uses some powerful parallels to explore and examine aspects of our present day realities that feel all too real. The sci-fi premise is grounded in ideas that feel very much attune to the current progression of AI, but what makes it all the more powerful is the way these questions are able to play into the whole of human history at the same time. When we first meet Mia in the opening minutes of the film she is pregnant. The young AI is then juxtaposed alongside of this as a way of anchoring its creation within the human experience.

All along the way the film keeps pausing to wonder about where precisely the line is between robot and human, especially where the real world science of humans attaching themselves to otherwise benign material objects is concerned. The film even presses this further, wondering about how, and why, we could hold an external force like AI responsible when we are its creator. How much agency can it possibly have on its own? And in that light, perhaps we tend to see agency and liberty in a human sense as more than it actually is within the scope of our own lives. Somthing that challenges our conceptions of liberty.

There is an astute sense here of Edwards using this story in order to hold up a mirror to our own faces and our own reality. As the sentiment emerges from the mouths of a few characters, to say “they (meaning, their humanity) aren’t real” is simultaneously to wonder about what makes us real, or if we can lay claim to such realness at all.

The film teases out this sense that what we call real is bound up in relationship to others and to this world. In many ways this means that our reality is bound to our observations and experiences of this world, however subjective or objective this can become. And whatever we say about our humanness is measured by the nature of this experience as it relates to felt feelings and emotions. This is particularly evident when it comes to suffering. There is a powerful point in the film when we hear a brief monologue that relates the robot to the emergence of humans in a world once filled with Neanderthals. The common adage is to think of neanderthals as less intelligent and less civilized and lesser beings. The same way humans often think of other species or animals (watch for how often Edwards inserts a scene contrasting animals with humans and robots). They are dehumanized on the simple basis that they do not share what we perceive to be unique hominid capacities and characteristics. And yet history tells us this is almost certainly not the case. This becomes our point of clarification for how to think about the precarious relationship between humans and AI. It might seem like the unexpressed fears we hold about AI stem from the fear that we might be deemed the lesser species. The irony of this is that human history seems to suggest this fear is about a loss of power. It’s possible this fear is actually about a loss of measure. If we can no longer measure what is deemed to be good and right by the term “humane”, then where does that leave morality? More frightening yet- what happens when humane is attached to the atrocities of humanity’s potential for bad?

All of this gains a socio-political commentary given its interest in navigating the East-West divide. It cuts to the heart of the perpetual hostilies that exist between America and China, and wonders about how the ways these two entities percieve one another emerges from the trappings of progress. The inability to ask the right questions of our creations leads to dangerous places. A loss of our humanity one might say.

If all this seems like weighty stuff for what is supposed to be an entertaining blockbuster, trust me when I say that’s a big part of what makes this film so profound. It entertains, without a question. It also makes you think. Its ultimately where it manages to make you feel that it reaches yet another level. The emotional stakes are as real as they come.

Reading Journal 2023: Philosopher of the Heart: The Restless Life of Soren Kierkegaard
Author: Clare Carlisle

The closest thing to a digestible and accessible capture of Kierkegaards big ideas that I think you’ll find, precisely because it locates his ideas within the confines of his personal life and experiences.

The book depicts a philosopher of the heart, meaning he found himself, and indeed allowed himself to be carried by the ebb and flow of his struggles and his passions. This biography details someone who was as “ambivilent” towards Christianity as he was compelled towards it. If life seemed to force him to ask that perennial question, what does it mean to be human, as Carlisle points out, the very act of asking this question throws the entire concept into question. Its akin to asking, do we exist. I took it for granted that I did, but if I can’t adequately answer what it means to exist, can I legitimately say that I do in fact exist in any tangible sense of the word?

One of Kierkegaards primary influences, and the one to read if you want to gain a sense of his particular trajectory in philsophy and theology, is Socrates. Carlisle notes that the two did not inhabit the same world, nor the same context, so this becomes the way to see their distinctions, the progressions, and their departures. What binds them together is an inate desire for authenticity, with Kierkegaard applying Socrates cave to the concept of christendom, or more particularly a christendom so taken for granted that it has in fact become non existent.

If Kierkegaards pursuit of romance, and his failure to embody it, becomes a desperate mark of his philsophical writings, his obsession with the story of Abrahams sacrifice of Isaac informs it. There is a marked cynicism that follows him through the different stages of his life, but one that seems to be framed by a desperation to understand the act of existing at all and in any way in this world. As he says, “What philosophers say about actuality is often just as disappointing as it is when one reads on a sign in a second-hand shop: Pressing Done Here. If a person were to bring his clothes to be pressed, he would be duped, for the sign is merely for sale.”

And yet, he is compelled towards such philsophers, pseudo or otherwise, precisely because he does feel he cannot exist apart from its endeavor. Without the authenticity of his struggles and desires he cannot have an authentic self. He notes in Abraham’s story that “Abraham’s relationship to God did not draw him away from the world, but anchored him within it”, and, as Carlisle notes, sees that “Abrahams faith lay less in his obedient surrender of Isaac than in recieving Isaac back.” The question that follows his writings, especially as a means of fleshing out his romantic experiences and longings, is how does one live religiously in the world. That paradox of Abrahams faith is “a faith that is lived in the world, yet defies worldly expectations. And in this endeavor, “to suffer without being understood” might be the most difficult part of this paradox.

Kierkegaard held this deep convinction that said, how we read and critique philsophy is how we read and critique ourselves as one that exists in this world. It is this portion of his thought that alligned him with the romantics, however much his cynicism holds sway. A hopeful romantic, even as his struggles left him in a constant state of crisis. As he writes at one point, what is most important is having a life view. “A life view is more than experience, which in itself is always fragementary. It is the transubstantiation of experience; it is an unshakeable certianty in oneself won from all experience.” By which he doesn’t mean strict humanism, but a “deeper experience” regarding existence itself. It is one thing to say that life draws us foward to points of certainty. It is quite another to say that God draws us towards our questions. “Human beings are not ready made, nor do they create themselves… (Ones) life is not entirely determined by God, but he now feels that he will find his true path through the world only by submitting to (the divine).”

Carlisle notes how this push and pull between control and submission became evidenced in how he worked through his different writings at different points in time. Again, another mark of his perpetual state of crisis, something he saw as a necessary anxiety to hold and to wear. “His sense that divine governance directed his authorship was difficult to distinguish from his need to write to assuage his anxiety.” It would seem as Carlisle helps navigate, that if his writings reflect a process and a journey, it is one that trends towards “letting go and giving up”. The closer one gets to the divine, the more this becomes apparent in ones life story. This notion, in a period of despair where he seemingly went silent, also appeared to lead him ultimately towards conceptions and understandings of the eternal and the infinite. “If you abide in God” he writes, “you abide- thus you remain present to yourself in God.” Breathing through his polemics and cynicism, through his own play on Martin Luther’s famed thesis, through his incessent ruminations on his desired and failed romance, this troubled soul was so consumed by the idea of authenticity that it ultimately became the thing that both enslaved and liberated. A process defined in terms like the following: “Anxiety enters into his soul and searches out everything and anxiously torments everything finite and petty out of him.”

The tortured soul of an existentialist, although Kierkegaard would never appeal to such terms of self loathing or pity. To him it was sought after and desired, and ultimately necessary to being human and existing in this world as an authentic self. Indeed, necessary to existing in any way at all. As Carlisle so beautifully captures, there is a quiet dignity to this proceess, however restless it might have left him.

What must we do to perform the works of God? Jesus answered them, ‘This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent.’
– John 6:28-29

This verse is often cited in support of some divine election to salvation. Gods work is to make it so that one believes. Or Gods work is the belief they could not do on their own. But is that really what this passage is saying?

Let’s backtrack to verse 14. Jesus has just done a work with the leaves and the fishes. Here was the peoples response.

14 When the people saw the sign that he had done, they began to say, ‘This is indeed the prophet who is to come into the world.’

They believe he is the prophet. In Jewish terms this would be Elijah. What was their response to this assertation?

15 When Jesus realized that they were about to come and take him by force to make him king, he withdrew again to the mountain by himself.

They wanted to make him king. Jesus’ response is to retreat, with the passage then detailing a story that answers that question, what is the work of God using the analogy of the leaves and fishes. Having retreated they are now looking for their prophet/king. Jesus says,

26Very truly, I tell you, you are looking for me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of the loaves

Jesus then goes on to clarify what he means by this.

33″The bread of God is that which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.’

This proclamation relates to his prior claim that they “not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures for eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you. For it is on him that God the Father has set his seal.”

What does this mean? They ate their full meaning they had tasted the true work of God- Jesus.

35 Jesus said to them, ‘I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty

The connection here has nothing to do with the work being some divine election to belief in God. The connection is between the work of God that they were looking for, the signs they were looking for to tell them that God was about to at long last do what He promised to do, the prophet being the precursor, and that work being Jesus, the one sent from Heaven to at long last restore the world.

Reading Journal 2023: The Magicians Daughter by H.G. Parry, and Tress of the Emerald Sea by Brandon Sanderson

I paired a reading of Sanderson’s Tress of the Emerald Sea with H.G. Parry’s The Magicians Daughter. Tress was a recommend, The Magicians Daughter a blind buy. The synopsis seemed to suggest some potential shared qualities and interests, and they both appeared to occupy the YA genre or something slightly older. Thus the pairing. Turns out it couldn’t have been more perfect. Both stories focus on a central female protagonist who, as the books begin, have spent their lives in isolation on an island. In the case of Tress it is a fictionalized island reminiscent of somwhere like Ireland. In The Magicians Daughter it is set in Ireland. Both stories follow their protagonist off the island, albiet for different reasons, and both books detail a world that is governed by magic.

All of these shared points reflect what I appreciated about one and what I didn’t about the other. Of the two books, The Magicians Daughter is the one that stood out for me. In fact, it ended up being a new addition to my permenant shelves, which I save for those stories that I find especially impactful. Tress started off strong, but ultimately it faded, and sharply so, in the second half.

So what did I like/dislike? Part of what I need to concede with Tress is that it does gear younger, and intentionally so. Its protagonist is the type that you might expect from a teen novel, especially the way she is bound to the titular love interest. The set up does at least seem like its going for something a bit more ambitious, but the way Tress’ adventure plays out is essentially hampered by superficial motivations. Given the way the story merges from the intrigue and mysteries of this beginning into a full scale adventure into a world where the sea is made of dangerous spores and where this space is controlled by pirate ships and the like, the potential for this mysterious persona to be interesting falls by the wayside pretty quickly. Which makes the entire second half a slog, as its committed simply to world building, giving these underdeveloped characters an intersting landscape to exist within, but no compelling reason to navigate it.

The Magicians Daughter on the other hand takes the opposite route. It gears a bit older, but it also takes its time establishing the characters and a real sense of place. By the time she leaves the island I was able to feel its departure. The stakes also exist far beyond simple romantic interests. Here we find a world that once was fillled with magic and wonder and which has since lost its magic. From this unfolds a mystery- where did the magic go, how do they get it back, why does the magic matter and how does it operate, and how does all of this relate to the council which rules the lands and the cast of characters whom seemingly exist as its resistance, fighting back against its corruption. Parry has layered the story with different elements that allow the world building to unfold much more subtly and gradually than it does with Tress, letting the natural tension of its characters and its circumstance drive the plot forward.

The other issue with Tress is that it starts off by seemingly anchoring itself in a real world setting that just happens to have fantastical aspects. As the book pushes forward any sense of familiarity with the world these characters occupy goes out the window. It becomes more and more fantastical. Which is not a problem in and of itself, except that it required a readjustment after I entered into the story. Full disclosure- apparently this book fits into a larger universe of books I have not read, so that could have made a difference. I had allowed mysef to be drawn into one thing, and then it proved to be something very different, and that ultimately pulled me out of the story for a good quarter at least. In The Magicians Daughter, the realism and familiarity of the world they occupy is certainly filled with magic and is fantastical, but it never loses that sense of familiarity. This is a world just like our own, only it imagines such a world from the perspective of this magical source or power being the thing that gives it life. The strength of its story then is its ability to allow this to function as an allegory for the world we know. A world shrouded by darkness and which needs to recover the magic and wonder it once had. Its a story about hope that plays into many facets of our present day.

The other strength of the Magicians Daughter is the way the prose allows each character their own unique vantage point and struggle. While much of the mystery plays on these character’s identity and motivations being held in question, this never undercuts the value of the real time relationships and the relevance of their experiences shaping them in the moment. We are learning as we go, and everything that we learn becomes part of the necessary interpretive practice once the puzzle is fully put together. And even then, the book’s conclusion leaves plenty of room too for our imaginations to play this story further an outwards in our imagination. If Tress contains us as readers to the basics of its plot points, The Magicians Daughter opens us up to the expanse. It becomes a kind of fairy tale rooted in reality. A commentary on modernity where the power of myth has increasingly lost its force, leaving much of what we do without a necessary foundation. That this commentary reaches from the personal into the fabric of our social and political realities is certainly where it gains its full force of power and draw. An invitation to believe again that magic exists and has the power to transform the darkness of our world into light.

Film Journal 2023: Dumb Money
Directed by Craig Gillespie

Based on a true story.
Sometimes these words hold more or less weight when it comes to the particular adaptations of these stories. Here the weight is considerable because of the nature of the subject matter.

The story concerns a point of particular corruption, a moment over the course of the pandemic when wall street was called out and where certain members of the 1 percent made some unethical moves to put out the fire and stop the bleeding that was the dismantling of their hedge funds.

But the story reaches much broader then this particular moment in time. It is aiming its sights towards a corrupted system with the hopes of reclaiming the spirit of what the system was always meant to be. According to the filmmaker, the stock market was meant to reflect an even playing field with equal access afforded to anyone with the appropriate skills and desires to use it as a fair opportunity to make money. Just to give this proper defintion: Dumb money is the every person’s investments. This is contrasted with the powerful elites, part of the 1 percent who use their money to control wall street. The action of this smart and somewhat unassuming young man with an interest in stocks eventually turns into a revolution, fighting back against that power and control.

Here in lies the central issue though. And it is not so much with the film itself- this is a tight script featuring some great pacing, quality performances, and an engaging mix of brains, heart, commentary and humor. Its more an issue inherent in the story it is adapting. It’s hard not to see the message of this revolution as muddled and a bit contradictory in nature. It wants to reestablish the stock market in line with the American vision of individual liberty, imagining it as a place that celebrates one of its key tenants- equal opportunity. All hail the capitalist market. And yet its not difficult to see where this fight against class systems simply creates new class systems in its place. It’s written into the fabric of the true story. For every person who becomes rich there are numerous ones who lost everything. Turn your view even a little further outwards and you then have to grapple with with the countless numbers of people whom do not have the tools and ability to navigate stocks occupying the space that is left at the bottom of this capitalist pursuit.

There is no question that the world is shifting and changing, and with it the conception of the dollar, the value of certain kinds of work, and the ways in which one is able to retire (or even the conception of retirement). That in itself shouldn’t be the thing that is resisted necessarily (although there are lots of meaningful points of discussion that can be found there). But within that I think we can find what could be called the same old problems reinventing themselves, arguably with a greater degree of disparity. Dumb money becomes smart money which just shifts what we categorize as dumb towards a different target. If hard work used to define what it meant to make money, that work is being redefined in ways that create an even greater disconnect between human activity and the work of the system itself.

Now, all of this could suggest the merits of this film. That it fosters this kind of discussion is a testament to what it achieves. I for one was deeply engaged with it as a production. It had a similar feel as Blackberry, although with a very different visual aesthetic. In Dumb Money the drama has to be made more visual, as we are talking about stocks after all. The film finds creative ways to tell this story that really help aid the emotional journey.

The film also does have something to say though, and that is anchored in the real world revolution that the film is recounting. My opinion of course, but the reality of the story undercuts its own aims. Worth discussing? No doubt. Part of makes this recommended viewing. But it also is a part of what makes the messaging problematic

Film Journal 2023: Flora and Son
Directed by John Carney

To say this is a charmer would be an understatement. It’s also one of Carny’s most mature films to date, which of course looks backwards to his break out hit Once. He’s a long ways from the very modest budget of that two person indie romance, with Flora and Son exhibiting a bigger story, more expansive camera work and a more polished edit. But the intimacy of its characters and their journey remains fully intact, this time delving into the subject of motherhood and womanhood with the grace of some broad and colorful brushstrokes.

It’s also unapologetically raw in its subject material and execution, which lends the polish a real world grit amist the Irish wit and charm. That might be worth a word of caution- this is a family drama filled with mature elements, and while I think that shouldn’t keep anyone away from this film it could catch some off guard, especially if you haven’t seen Sing Street and are simply going off the pedigree of his debut.
Loved the performances here, with some spot on casting and an honest to good chemistry between the mother and the three central figures that surround her. The way the film integrates the music is equally compelling, finding new ways to express a now familiar characteristic. Makes the wonderful finale fully earned with all its sentimentality on display.

Film Journal 2023: Ukrainian Mothers and The Children of War
Directed by Olena Tumanska

I was a little uncertain about this documentary in the early going. It starts off extremely slow and unintentive. At a base level it follows a handful of Ukrainian mothers as they flee to Canada during the current war. They are all part of the same program which connects willing households with Ukrainian refugees, and all of the households are located in the GTA.

What becomes abundantly clear in the early portions of this documentary is the clear and intentional absence of footage that shows where they are coming from. This is almost entirely shot in Canada, and thus all images of the devastation come from interviews with the mothers and children. The result of this is a somewhat muted approach that, in the early going, is devoid of much drama. I know that the subject matter is very real and deeply important, but as far as filmmaking goes, its not incredibly engaging

The film gains its strength though as it goes. Once these mothers and their children are settled into their homes, the narrowed focus on this part of their journey affords the film plenty of time and space to really dig into what this displacement looks like and feels like for the ones involved. The full weight of their experience hits later on as the uncertainty of the moment begins to demand certain choices as time moves forward.

If I was uncertain about this in the early going, I was fully invested by the end. It’s a bit long and could have used a bit more of an edit purely on a structural and practical front, but the individual threads each have their own impact. Each family reflects a different scenario with specific challenges and expectations. What binds them together is the sheer breadth and reality of the humanitarian crisis.

Film Journal 2023: The Exorcist: Believer
Directed by David Gordan Green

Part of the exercise for me going into this sequel (or requel I suppose) was trying to balance the fact that this was going to be a film that tries to do it’s own thing in the shadow of a genuine classic. I knew it would need the freedom to be able to exist in it’s own right while also connecting its story to the original Exorxist film. I was both successful and unsuccessful on this front at different points in the film, but overall I think I found a way to really appreciate this for what it does. I have a few nitpicks, but what the film does well, I think it does it very well.

A shout out to the first half hour of the film. There were numerous moments in Believer where it caught me off guard and had me jumping straight out of my chair, but it’s in a really well designed first act, framed by two different climatic moments, that the film employs some creative editing and displays a commitment to fostering a genuine sense of dread. It’s in this first half hour or more that the film takes its time in fleshing out the key characters, and given how much happens over the course of the film (this is a lot of movie), this character development becomes important to carrying the weight of what formulates into some deeply spiritual questions..

There is a key moment at around the bour point where the story takes a turn, and it is here that I felt the film struggled slightly to juggle the different parts of its story, mainly because it is doing so much all at the same time. When it is not trying to tie the film back to its predecessor, it’s trying to take it to new places. At the same time it’s trying to use the characters to establish the necessary tension of the films point of crisis, while also reaching for big thematic explorations regarding doubt and belief.

If it stumbles here, it’s in the push and pull of the story. There are moments where the story moves too quickly, forcing some climatic moments to become a bit too abrupt and awkwardly edited. And then there are moments where it wants to sit back, especially where it employs a few monologues meant to probe the films cental questions for spiritual insights. Here it felt like it could have utilized the space to allow the characters to explore these questions for themselves.

What does hold it together though is the formative events that happen in the first half hour. These function as the necessary vantage points for our characters to legitimately engage what is going on in the moment with a degree of awareness and perspective. The script does a nice job of tying those early events to the later ones in a way that evokes a real sense of crisis and meaning.

A quick word on the films final moments here as well, without spoilers. One of the things the film plays with is the question of agency, particularly as we see this agency function in relationship to God. This is, after all, one of the key questions when it comes to belief in God. If God exists, does this mean Evil exists? And if we percieve God and Evil to have agency in the world, to what degree does this impact our own agency?

The film makes some interesting choices when it comes to this conversation, pushing some boundaries while also reestablishing others. I imagine that it will leave some viewers feeling more than a big uncomfortable, and maybe even angry. For me though, I think a big part of what this film is trying to press on is not Gods existence, but how we even come to ask the question about Gods existence in the first place (something a character reflects on at one point in the film). Its often in times of crisis that we are suddenly pressing on the idea of Gods agency, feeling like it has been thrown into question and been found wanting. In some ways, leaning into our own semse of agency, whatever its limits might be in hopeless situations, feels safer than entertaining the question of God in the face of Evil. After all, if God does have agency then this raises all sorts of other questions about why God did not act in the face of those certain Evils. And of course this reaches broader still to wonder about how the idea of Gods agency also relates to the agency of Evil. How much power does one or the other actually have over our lives and this world?

I think the film wants its viewers to challenge our conceptions of agency by daring to ask the hard questions. And one thing that I think the film does rather brilliantly is allow us to see how these questions have and are being asked across the world and throughout history through many different relgious and spiritual expressions and convictions. For as diverse as this is, understanding what it is we share in this light becomes our way into the conversation about things we cannot understand nor control. Some might label this as an egregious act of denying agency rather than empowering human agents to act in response to Evil, which of course is part of the issue many have with religion. But if we are willing to move past our issues with the question, and perhaps are willing to approach the question from the perspective of Gods existence, I think this film offers a compelling story through which to explore the paradox of these given realities. And I think that actually becomes the point of empowerment in Believer. It’s a reminder that we do not live in this world alone, and that fact alone should be enough to challenge our tightly guarded notions of agency.