Jesus Camp

I watched Jesus Camp the other day. Found it to be both a little creepy and oddly nostolgic. Like someone took me and my childhood friends and made us all as serious and passionate about Christianity as our children’s ministers wanted us to believe that we were then threw in some speaking in tongues and political overtones. Nonetheless, I thought it was an accurate portrayal of an America hidden to much of the population. It was honest enough that I think that although leftists may find it shocking and appaling, rightists will probably find it comforting and confirming. I found myself rebounding between revulsion and awe. True believers always do that to me. Part of me longs for that kind of faith while another part of me demands that I remain skeptical. I remember even as a child in the pew I was offended by the kinds of life-altering demands adults make of the kids in this movie. I hope that you, my faithful reader, will take a couple hours to watch and consider it.

I am reminded of one of my favorite quotations by Andre Gide (the only one I know actually).

“Believe those who are seeking truth. Doubt those who find it.”

(Perhaps it would be appropriate to add: also really doubt those who indoctrinate children with the truth that they found.)

"We've lost control, kill everyone."

I'm really disappointed that they made a sequel to 28 Days Later (one of my favorite flicks). I don't care if Danny Boyle produced it, it looks awful.

The anime Paprika, on the other hand, looks like a total trip.

This movie was the biggest thing in Korea last year. I still haven't managed to rent it, but the trailer looks pretty entertaining. Find it an watch it now before Universal Studios Americanizes it.

It's Time You Bury That Cat

The language barrier is surprisingly easy to overcome in most situations. Just do a little mime dance, point, bow, gansamnida, and be on your way. Ok so it's not exactly the cut of meat you were looking for. Ok it's squid and not chicken. Ok he drove you to the trainstation instead of the department store. But these are simply hardships you learn to deal with. Just take it in stride. That is unless the person is holding a pair of scissors, a comb, and a spray bottle...

So getting a haircut. I HATE haircuts. And I'm terrified of hairdressers. They weild a frightening power. Power on the level with brain surgeons, tattoo artists, and political assassins. These scissor-wipping, US-weekly-reading, gum-smackers control your life. Your career, your street cool, your potential loves, and your socio-economic status all hang languidly on their fingers. Snip. Snip. Not to mention the burden of seeing it glare at you every morning.

So imagine what a daunting task it is, when you finally decide that it's time to bury that cat that curled up and died on your head weeks ago. And no one speaks your language.



Well David and I finally bit the bullet. We went together for moral support. The name of the place was in English. And they advertised themselves as a Men's Beauty Shop. There were two stylists with two occupied barber chairs. Two men waited, legs crossed, reading the paper. They scarcely glanced up when we stepped inside. There was a pictorial menu of chops on the wall. They ran from the short bowl chop at number 1 down to the Shaggy Dandy at number 10. I chose the Shaggy Dandy. Standing and pointing for the stylist when it was my turn.

She weilded her scissors with precission and patience. Not rushing. Waiting for the form to settle. Measuring. Snipping. Thinning. Layering. Carefully. I watched her every move. Of course it was too late at this point. I resigned to my appointed fate. I would only intervene if she tried to chop off my bangs.

When the hair settled to the floor and the woosh of her scissors was silent, I opened my eyes and looked at myself in the mirror. The untrained eye might not even notice a change, she was subtle. But I felt lighter. My head moved easier. And I looked quicker, more clever. She had unburdened me of useless weight, without removing even a hair of cool.

As she motioned me to the back room where I was to wash and rinse my hair, I smiled, quite pleased with the results.

And the kicker? It only cost five bucks. No tip.



Eh?

* * *

Movie note:

Has anyone seen this movie? Beautiful and brutal. An unfiltered fairy tale for us kids who went and got grown up. Oh my, just go see it.

Starving for Tasty Tunes

So have I mentioned that the music in Korea sucks? The same awful ballads blare out of every speaker on every corner. At least I can't tell what they're saying. I think in this way, Korean ballads get an edge up on country music. But for goodness sake, could we have some variety? Downtown, if you go downtown, you'll here the same "Maariaaa! Ave Maariaaa!" the entire time. It's in English, at least the chorus is. And that's all they ever seem to play. Apparently it's the theme song from a movie about a homely girl who sucks at life who has plastic surgery and becomes a national sensation. Isn't that great? I gotta see that movie.

Oh cinema is a gem here too. And by gem I mean bucket of crap. Except for this one guy. Chan-Wook Park (films include Oldboy, Sympathy for Lady Vengeance, and Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance). Oh and his birthday is the day after mine. Thank you IMDB for that information. He likes to make movies about vengeance. I've seen Oldboy and Sympathy for Lady Vengeance, but not Mr. Vengeance. If you are at all cool, do yourself a favor and rent Oldboy (think Count of Monte Cristo-esque with Seoul. You'll enjoy it trust me). If you are not cool, then do yourself a favor and rent Oldboy (maybe you won't like it, but you'll be cooler for it. Trust me). Then after that, find Sympathy for Lady Vengeance. And watch it because A) if you ever find someone else who has seen Oldboy, you'll want to be able to talk about his other movies too (or lose all credibility) and B) there are many many worse ways to waste your life.



Aside: saying "many many" is a sign of Korean indoctrination.

Can someone tell me why computers have a limit to the number of times you can switch DVD regions? That seems really stupid to me. Or do they think that people with laptops don't travel? Or don't watch DVDs on there DVD players when they travel? Stupid.