Blue is the Warmest Color

Or, The Life of Adele, Chapters 1 and 2 - the French title, which far better captures the film.

Lots of details about the plot below, but they're not really spoilers in that the knowledge of them won't affect the film.  Nothing you couldn't see coming.

This is a film that I'd like to edit down myself to a more manageable two hours.  It's unnecessarily three hours long, and I know just the scenes I'd shorten.

The movie takes place over about ten years or so; it's left unclear.  Adele at 15 falls for a boy, but has eyes for a girl, Emma.  Then she and Emma finally connect, develop a relationship, move in together, grow complacent, split up, and Adele tries to cope with the loss.



I found the shifting in time jarring, but other reviewers loved it.  I kept feeling like I was missing something - like I must have drifted off.  One minute she's in high-school living with her parents, and the next, with the same hair-do that she can't leave alone, she's a teacher living with Emma in a very cool apartment that looks way too expensive for a new teacher and an artist to afford.  And the next minute, Emma has a 3-year-old with another woman.  Maybe it's a cultural thing, but I would have liked the occasional helpful heading, like, Four years later....

Adele never seems to develop a self.  She needs another person to stave off loneliness to the point that, when Emma gets busy with her art, Adele has an affair.  She's defined by her relationship and is lost without a connection.  There's one scene in which Emma encourages Adele to develop her writing in order to be happy, but Adele's happy just being with Emma.  That kind of thing.  And there are many scenes when Adele is alone, and she just stares out the window smoking.  And crying.  She likes her job, but, without Emma, she comes home to an abyss.

And I didn't care.  She isn't enough of a character on her own for me to care about her loss.  She's singularly focused on one person to the exclusion of the rest of the world.  It's a very sad film, but I didn't shed a tear.  But I also wonder if it's because of the music.  I hated the film Lost in Translation, mainly because I think Scarlett Johansson is a horrible actress - her lines are consistently flat.  But I cried at the end when a swell of music cued me.  But this film ends with Adele walking alone as an upbeat latin song brings us to the credits.  Maybe I misinterpreted the end entirely, but she looked distraught to me - still unable to get over Emma.  A guy she obviously isn't interested in goes after her, but in the wrong direction.  Another reviewer suggests it ends with the possibility of new love, but I think it ends with her unable to love someone else.  Not yet.

When Emma wants Adele to write, it's also telling in that she doesn't really acknowledge what Adele does do.  Her teaching and cooking don't seem to count in the same way.  They don't endure like art or writing might.  There's a pretension to Emma that distances her.  Her friends also go there arguing about Klimt the way art students are trained to do - at once intellectual yet vacuous.  Adele struggles with this in reverse at the beginning - wanting to discuss novels with a musical boyfriend who doesn't like books with long sentences. Adele is more authentic in her longing to talk about it all.  She has a pure desire about her books without any need to impress others. This mis-connection of passions again presents a barrier when she can't join in on the art discussions with Emma.   And Adele's love of reading seems to be forgotten in the second half.  Why didn't she pick up a book instead of staring out the window for days and years?

And some scenes go on forever!  There's Adele reading almost an entire story to her students.  The whole thing!  And there's Adele dancing while she watches Emma talk to her old girlfriend, dance, look over, dance, look over....  Scenes like this could have given the same sense of plot or character in a fraction of the time.  There are some scenes worthy of the length - dancing outside with the children, or floating in the water at the beach - scenes that quietly embody her internal turmoil.  But most needed a ruthless editing.

And then there are the sex scenes.  Uncomfortably long and pornified, they tell us little about the characters or their relationship.  There's an awful lot of bouncing and groaning, but scant gestural communication or connection between the lovers.  We don't get to see the build-up, the seduction, only a variety of positions that allow for adequate friction.  That was a shame.

But the film is captivating because of Adele's face.  She says so much with the slightest change of expression.  I was able to keep watching the entire three hours because she's a delight to watch.

For that, I'll give it a B.  

The Skin I Live In

I spent a week camping and reading John Irving's In One Person on the beach (carefully because it's a library book).  Then, after getting home and shaking the sand from all our things, I relaxed with a Netflix movie:  The Skin I Live In (La piel que habito), which was by chance of a similar subject matter.  I recommend skipping the book and going straight for the movie.  SPOILERS galore below - for both.

I don't read many novels, but I sometimes love John Irving.  I find he's hit and miss, able to entice me with Widow for One Year, Cider House Rules, Hotel New Hampshire, Garp, and Owen Meany, but repel me with pretty much everything else he writes.  Many of his books repeat similar events or circumstances, but this one feels more like a rehashing of the other books.  There's lots of wrestling in this one, bunch o' incest and awkward sex scenes, and yet another boarding school that becomes co-ed during the main character's meander through his long, detailed life.  The big spoiler:  pretty much everyone's gay, and they almost all die from AIDS.  We should all learn to accept one another for who we really are - and that can change over time.  I wasn't surprised about anything or anyone.  And worse, the dialogue is so heavy handed I started skimming it early on.  One character alludes to a situation, but then another spells it out for us in case we're completely daft.  And even worse than that, I didn't care about anyone.  At all.  Just get over yourselves already!

What the book does do, however, is make me want to re-read some Ibsen, Hardy, Tennessee Williams, and Shakespeare.  As the main family in the book is heavily involved in putting on plays at the local community theatre, Irving's characters explain each play to death as if the novel is a surreptitious means to educate the youth of today in quality literature.  That might work if any teenagers read it - and get more than halfway through.

The feelings and attitudes of the LGBTQ scene are old hat to me.  That a man might enjoy dressing as a woman yet he isn't gay, the reality of bi-sexuality, and the necessity of transgendered acceptance as their revealed identity are not at all revelatory at this point in our culture evolution - but maybe that's just because I live in Canada where we've had legal gay marriage nationally for seven years.  That a ton of people in the US died of AIDS in the 80s has been explored in better books that leave you dripping with tears.  As someone who grew up with severe speech impediments, that entire sub-plot rang false (and boring).  There was just nothing new or captivating in the book,...which brings me to the film.


Like many Almodovar films, this is weird.  It's truly original.  It's sometimes disturbing and harsh, but the actions of the characters all make sense.  It centres around a plastic surgeon whose wife was severely burned in a fiery car accident with her lover (his brother of course), so he focuses his brilliance on inventing a new kind of skin that's impervious to burns.  But the genetic manipulation necessary to create it is illegal to try with humans.  Luckily, our mad scientist, Robert, depraved to begin with, is going through a crisis: Even though his wife was saved, she kills herself when she sees her hideous reflection.  Then his daughter, on meds after watching her mom jump out a window, is sort of raped at a party.  When his daughter kills herself too, he goes after the rapist.  He traps him for six years, and in that time, he turns the guy, Vincent, into a woman, Vera, complete with his daughter's face and this new crazy skin he's been dying to try on a human being.  Of course Robert falls in love with Vera - a living embodiment of his own daughter.  Creepy!

We don't know until the end if Vera is succumbing to Stockholm Syndrome or is very cleverly trying to gain her freedom as she slowly accepts wearing dresses and as she seems to fall in love with Robert.  The film is thought-provoking as it explores how our outer layer affects everything else.  To what extent does a suddenly disfigured face affect our identity?  Can I still be me if I look totally different?  People will react to me differently.  Even just aging has changed the way people react to me, and in turn, how I interact with people.  I lost the power that comes with being a cute female a couple of decades ago.  And further, to what extent could I be myself if I woke up to find a mad scientist had changed me into a guy.  Would I walk and talk differently?  Would I use different words and phrases?  And, if I did, would I be acting like a guy, or would I be being a guy?  Do I act like a woman now?

There's a brief scene in which Vera sees a picture of her old self, Vincent, and she kisses the photo tenderly.  We often just have to accept what we are today even when it's not what we want to be.  Two hours or 425 pages - take your pick.

ETA - Okay, my coincidence is a three-parter.  First the book, then the film, then, in today's Globe & Mail, an article on facial transplants:  "You don't get a face transplant to look in the mirror.  You get a face transplant so the social mirror of other people can see you normally."  It's the social reflection, not self-perception that matters most.

I wonder about that.

A-

Bully and Tomboy

I saw Bully as a PD activity for teachers last week.

 

Maybe I've lived too long and seen too much, but it wasn't nearly as shocking as I expected to be.  It was real, though.  I could easily identify with the targets - why they laugh when they're getting hit.  I could also identify with the parents and the pain we feel at every bit of suffering our children have to endure.  But I could also identify with the bullying children who are so desperate to fit in, they'll do anything to distance themselves from difference.  Difference actually makes them angry.  We'll do anything to keep from being at the bottom of that pecking order.  It gets easier as we get older, but, for many people, not by much.  It just gets more subtle.

The Weekend

Andrew Haigh's The Weekend is a lovely movie.  It's about a one-night stand between two men that turns into more, but is doomed because one of them is leaving the country at the end of the weekend.  It illustrates that the length of a relationship isn't correlated with its intensity.  At all.

It's similar to Before Sunrise in that aspect - another favourite of mine.  I also liked Before Sunset, but I worry that a third (possibly in the works) can't work as well.  Once people are together for a time, once they're stable, then the story isn't as interesting.  Then it needs peripheral characters to keep the action going unless someone's dying - or, god forbid, having babies.  Maybe they'll get a cat.  Another Year is a good example of a film about a comfortable stable relationship. It got good reviews, but I found it boring.  And it wouldn't be watchable without the weird friends coming and going.  

There are a few very realistic discussion in The Weekend about the annoyance and difficulty of being gay in public.  It's not as dangerous as it once was, but it's not entirely accepted either.  There's a perception that it's easier in the US, and he's going to find out.  

Both men reveal a practice of tracking relationships - one in writing, and the other on tape as an art installation.  The art aspect reminded me of another excellent film:  Me and You and Everyone We Know.  Miranda July plays an burgeoning artist who films people talking about photographs or pieces of their lives.  It's actually worth it just to see the different things she films - like her shoes talking to one another or the game she plays walking down the street.  But I like quirky.

Me and You is also about the difficulty of connecting - the push-me-pull-me of first meeting, the  resisted desires that can mess up an otherwise enjoyable life.

The Kids are All Right? Not So Much

The Kids are All Right is not to be confused with the excellent movie, The Kids are Alright. So, first of all, I don't really get the title. What makes the kids okay?  Or is it that they have moments where the kids come up with an intelligent idea or two? The kids in the movie each hung out with a bullying best friend, which isn't "right." So they're clearly not right all the time. The moms worried about the son being gay, but he wasn't, so is that what's "right"? Or is the right-ness that he knows he's straight, he's correct about his sexual orientation whereas the moms were clearly in the wrong on that one. I'm confused. Anyway, some spoilers below but, really, nothing you couldn't guess from the trailer.



What's the hoopla about this movie? Maybe I'm being too hard on it because I was really really looking forward to this film, and it just didn't meet my expectations. I worry a bit that people think it's amazing just because the moms are lesbians and everyone wants to celebrate that. It's great when LGBTQ relationships are depicted as regular folk in movies, but it can't be enough to carry the film. Because if you take out that one ingredient, it's just about a couple who are getting stale, who connect with their donor who sleeps with the wife, which shakes up the marriage and upsets the kids, but they all live happily ever after. There wasn't a moment of clever dialogue. There weren't intriguing ideas presented that I had to go away and really think about for a while. There weren't unusual or intense characters presented. And there weren't, really, amazing acting skills being showcased here except, maybe, Mia Wasikowska. Bening is cute as a button, and she does a reasonable job, but I'm always conscious that she's acting. I never get lost in her performance. Look, she's doing cold and uppity. Now she's doing upset. Now she's doing sad. But maybe that's just me. Is she getting kudos just because she was able to kiss Julianne Moore convincingly? I've kissed worse.

Their daughter is leaving home for the first time, and the grief that could bring to some parents was barely registered. I know it's a light-hearted film, but comedies don't work when they gloss over pain. Their son is hanging out with a total jerk and the obsessive parents are practically oblivious. They mention disliking him, but they do little else even though they seem controlling in most other aspects of their lives. Everyone seemed a little flat in their performances.

I understood Ruffalo's character most. He's a player who suddenly realizes what he could have had, but doesn't, and he attaches with some desperation. But the family's reaction to this bothered me. There wasn't an ounce of understanding. He got full blame for the affair, and they wrote him off. So long as he's not there, they're all fine, right? There wasn't any resolution of any depth here. They held hands at the end - big deal. I predict Bening's character will go back to being controlling and Moore's character will meet someone else pretty darn soon.

If you want to see a good comedy about people having affairs and the problems that brings, check out Hannah and Her Sisters. I'm not a Woody Allen groupie, but this one is very good. It's hilarious, yet Allen has a way of still showing the grief and heartache and anxiety an affair can cause. It makes us react. Or, even funnier in my eyes is Play It Again, Sam. Remember that scene where Linda's getting into bed with her husband, but she's looking at that little skunk Allan got her. I know exactly how she was feeling. I wasn't watching her; I was right there with her.

If, on the other hand, you want to see a marriage in crisis acted beautifully in a way that gets you so involved you want to hug them and you cry for them and you really feel for each of them, and you cheer for them when they work through their crap and actually begin to get to the other side, then watch Rabbit Hole, and give this tripe a pass.

If what you're really after, though, is a excellent film with a lesbian couple at the centre of it all, I wish I could recommend one. Better Than Chocolate almost gets it. The story line could be so good in someone else's hands, but, like The Kids..., it's superficial and flat which is such a shame because it's so close to being really good! But I'm a Cheerleader is hilarious, but it's campy. It's not a realistic portrayal of a relationship, but it's still a lot of fun. The Incredibly True Adventures of Two Girls in Love is cute, but by no means an excellent film. Actually, I loved the family in that movie - the main character's two moms were exceptional, but there's not enough of them. Go Fish has got to be one of the worst movies ever made, but it's still on top ten lesbian film lists because there's just not enough good lesbian films out there. There are others I can think of with a lesbian couple in the background, but not at the centre presented as normal, regular folk just going about their lives.

One that works better than most, actually, is Kissing Jessica Stein.  It's sort of about a lesbian couple, but one party is reluctant to fully embrace the identity.  It touches on some realistic issues though.  

I think this all means we're not far along enough to treat lesbian relationships as part of an excellent movie instead of the main focus, the special effect that will draw in enough of a crowd that the rest of the film can be painfully mediocre.

Any other lesbian film suggestions? Any truly excellent ones out there that aren't about the lesbian-ness of it all, but about life in general?

A Serious Man

A Serious Man is the newest Coen brothers movie. The words of Henry Brooks Adams came to mind as I watched: "Morality is a private and costly luxury."

The story is great to watch if you ever feel like life isn't going your way. It can't be much worse than what this guy Larry is going through: marriage, kids, job, health - nothing's good. Nothing's solid. As soon as he gets his head around one reality, it all changes again. It's profoundly absurd.

The kids slay me. The son keeps interrupting the dad's tragedies with complaints about the TV reception. The intense self-centeredness of the teens, and in fact most of the characters, is comical yet very familiar, and it presents a nice contrast to the soundtrack of Grace Slick's words, "You better find somebody to love." There seems to be little real connection in the film. They're each adrift on their own islands.

Back to the morality. There are thieves and cheats and liars in the lot. Larry tries to live a moral life - he seems to be the only one remotely interested in doing the right thing, and it takes its toll on him. He gets ripped off by everyone because of his generous nature. Then as the tragedies build up in his life, he makes a pivotal decision to join the masses and become a liar himself, to cheat his way out of a tricky dilemma. Just at that moment, the phone rings with more bad news.

It's easy to be moral when everything is going well. It's much harder when we're struggling. We also note how immoral the very wealthy can become, but that's a different type of struggle - for fame, social ranking, and a love of money kind of strife that can't be easily remedied. Larry's just trying to stay afloat. And he dismisses his moral code in the process thereby also losing his integrity.

After Mother Theresa died, they found on her wall a version of the Paradoxical Commandments. In part...

The good you do will be forgotten tomorrow. Do good anyway.
Honesty and frankness make you vulnerable. Be honest and frank anyway.
What you spent years building may be destroyed overnight. Build anyway....
Give the world the best you have, and you’ll get kicked in the teeth. Give the world the best you've got anyway....
In the final analysis it's between you and God; it's not between you and them anyway.

As an atheist, I read the last line as it's between you and your self-respect, or your integrity, rather than God. Being moral is about doing the right thing because it's right, not for glory or respect from others. Morality is a private act. And sometimes it costs us big time.

I want to end with, "...but it's just right." But why is it right? Why is it better to live a moral existence and get dumped on than also be a cheat and liar to stay in the game? It's often the harder choice, and I wonder to what extent I try to be moral because I like a challenge. And perhaps it's just what gives me, personally, a sense of purpose in life.

Charles Taylor says, "For those who define the good as self-mastery through reason, the aspiration is to be able to order their lives, and the unbearable threat is of being engulfed and degraded by the irresistible craving for lower things." But he also names other ways to define the good, through religious means or honour or affirmation of the ordinary life. And I can't help thinking those others are just wrong even though I have no solid backing for my assertions.

Yet.

Escapes

I'm always amazed when I come across similar ideas over and over in various places. I was in a bookstore and just flipped through a book that caught my eye: Anti-Cancer. Because of my family history, I have an on-going interest in new cancer theories or discoveries. But that wasn't what caught me. It was this:  Three groups of mice had tumours grafted on to them.

"One month after the graft, 63% of the rats that had received shocks but had learned to avoid some of them by pressing a lever had rejected the tumor. The rejection rate in this group was higher than in the control group (which had not undergone shocks), in which only 54% of the animals had rejected the cancerous cells. On the other hand, only 23% of those animals subjected to electric shock with no means of escape managed to over come their cancer. The helplessness of their situation had, it seems, hastened the tumor's spread....It isn't stress itself that promotes cancer development; it is the persistent perception of helplessness the individual has that affects the body's reaction to the disease."

So we're actually better off to be stressed out, but sometimes see an avenue out, than to never be stressed at all. So the fact that we're in a doomsday scenario these days what with the environment, the economy, and the proximity to 2012 and all, isn't a problem if we can see a direction to move in that will benefit our situation.

My question is, with situations much more complex than a shock that can be avoided, do we actually have to be able to help ourselves, or is it enough to have the illusion that we can help ourselves? Is believing that we're doing something the same as escaping the problem? And what if we just stop caring about the problem? Do mice ever acclimatize to the shocks? What if the shocks were minor at first then gradually increased?

And if I escape the problem by watching movies regularly, is that triggering the same cellular activity as if I actually escape the problem by avoiding the pain in the first place perhaps by no longer reading or watching the news?

I thought of these questions as I watched Vicky Cristina Barcelona. It's a gorgeous film. Several of the characters are trapped. An older woman is in a dead relationship but decides it's too late to move on, so when she meets a younger woman just starting a sparkless marriage, she tries to convince her to end it now. The older woman is being shocked and trying to escape by focusing on the other woman, projecting her pain elsewhere. The younger woman is being shocked but tries to get used to the pain. The others are in a triad that works well, a new member is a buffer muting the shocks betwen them. But when she leaves, they have to escape one another. And she is naturally restless so escapes all experiences before they get too painful, but thus endures a different kind of pain. Do all methods of escape count??

Until I just IMDB'd the film, I forgot it was written by Woody Allen. The dialogue made me think it was written by someone whose first language wasn't English. Everyone speaks in a very formal, grammatically correct way - how we might write to one another, but not how anyone I know ever speaks. That felt awkward, and I'm not sure what effect he was trying to achieve there. It's not something I've noticed in any of his other films. Beyond that, I could watch it over and over. But I'm a sucker for Woody.

An Anti-Censorship Theme: Shortbus and Not Yet Rated

I'm a big fan of Hedwig and the Angry Inch, so my review of Shortbus is strongly biased, but I just loved it. That's about all I really have to say, but I'll drag it out to fill the space. It's starts with a woman, Sofia, having crazy wild sex with her husband. It turns out she's a sex therapist, so that seems to make sense. Actually it starts with a guy in a bathtub who needs couples' counselling, and he and his partner end up at Sofia's practice. But as she's helping this young couple, who are considering having an open relationship, it becomes clear that the therapist has never had an orgasm. This premise I find a bit questionable, but theorize that it's like all the people with emotional problems who end up getting psych degrees. The problem leads them to the interest in the subject, but the study of the subject doesn't necessarily solve the problem. Ya, I have psych degree. Shut-up.

The movie has us watching the evolution of Sofia and this couple and a variety of other assorted characters that pop up here and there. It made me all teary at the end. I loved the movie because I really loved some of the characters. Sofia was actually my least favourite, and I wished she was more of a minor player, except in her scenes with Severin who I want to hug forever. I want to go to the bar they all hang out in ... just to talk.

But what everyone's talking about is the fact that throughout the movie all the sex scenes are real. And the opening masturbating scene is quite an eye-full, so to speak. There are lots and lots of naked penises which we normally never see in a mainstream film.

The film's definitely not pornography, if that's what you're after. The sex scenes are about the characters getting off, not the audience. They were startlingly un-erotic, very real, and comical at times like real-life sex can be. I appreciated that by the end, the sex scenes were almost common place, just another important part of our lives.

But it made me think about Tom Cruise and JLo and other actors that tend to hook up with their co-stars from each film they make. I think our attitudes often follow our behaviours and not the other way around. I don't think we decide how we feel, then behave accordingly, but instead we typically behave a certain way, register it, and rationalize our attitudes after-the-fact (whether we want to believe it or not). We like to think we're rational and carefully deciding our course of actions, but we're really led by our guts or instincts or sentiment (as Hume would have it), and then convince ourselves we intended it all along.

Anyway, I've often thought about actors pretending to fall in love, kissing and simulating sex, saying incredibly written lines to one another time and again for weeks. Surely many actors are convinced of their feelings after playing the part with someone they have a bit of chemistry with. I mean, I sometimes develop a bond with someone at work after finishing a difficult project together. If kissing were involved, I'd likely be rotating partners with each project too.

But the people in Shortbus are actually having sex with each other. And, unlike many pornos, their lines are about developing close emotional bonds. Does that lead to more likelihood of hooking up or less? Does one keep more emotional distance the closer the pretend intimacy is, or is everything vested in the scene, guts and all? The film used several actors who were already in a relationship (James and Jamie), so that reduces the dilemma. But it makes me think.

As for This Film Is Not Yet Rated, it has great potential. It's a very informative doc about the film rating system that moves through the process of understanding the sneaky underhanded system for what it is. It builds up nicely with the filmmaker hiring a private investigator (who gives a beautiful speech during their stake-out), but the climax falls flat. Here's the big ending:

WARNING - SPOILER ALERT:

he finds out the names of the people on the rating board. It's a big secret, see, but he found those names. I needed something bigger after all the build-up. What a let down. But even though it just seemed to stop, there were still some very worthwhile memorable bits in the during part. Kimberly Peirce (Boys Don't Cry) and Atom Egoyan really stood out for me. I'd recommend it for a rainy day with nothing else to do - unless you're a film buff. Then it's a must-see for educational purposes.

I also watched Crank. Don't make the same mistake. Just because Jason Statham was in Lock, Stock... and Snatch doesn't mean this isn't shite.

Hate the Religion, Not the Religious

I have strong opinions on religion but rarely write about them because it’s all too clear to me. I often write to clarify my own ideas for myself, particularly issues in which I can easily understand all sides, issue like abortion and pornography. Because I understand the other points of view, it’s more important to me to delineate my own stance which is never entirely black or white, never on one side of the artificial split made between agreeing or disagreeing with a position. But with religion it is entirely one-sided for me.

I struggle to understand why people in this day and age still believe in God. I’m not saying that believers aren’t intelligent. I have very good friends, knowledgeable and wise, who have a strong faith. I’m just baffled by it all.

I’m also not saying there’s a problem with believing. As far as I can see, it’s beneficial to many to feel the love of God surrounding them. We all like the idea of being loved unconditionally (although God's love seems pretty conditional to me). It’s comforting to think we’ll all meet up with our loved ones in some glorious afterlife. But it’s just so fantastical.

I’m a recovering Catholic who couldn’t continue to believe tenets of a religion that are so dismissive (at best) to half the world. This site does a great job of listing many of the issues feminists have with the Bible. But it doesn’t begin to address problems with institutionalised religious organizations: the hierarchy, the abuses, the money grabs, not to mention the crusades and wars fought in God’s name. Why would anyone want to join this club of such dubious merit?

I understand maintaining a belief in God as an adult’s way of having an imaginary friend who is a composite of the ideal mother and father. It gives them unconditional love and support whenever they need it. It keeps them good under the threat of impending punishment if they misbehave (or at least threat of a loss of eternal rewards for some Christian denominations). In a nutshell, belief in God seems like a maladjustment to an emotional separation from the parents born from a fear of living a totally independent life with full responsibility for all one’s own thoughts and deeds.  But that's just me.

I have no issue with people who find it easier to cope with life through faith, who are soothed by the thought of God’s arms around them, but I do have issues with Christians who don’t behave anything like Jesus suggested they should. I have no patience with judgmental types who bark at me about my sinful life focusing on the letter of the law instead of the spirit. One film that really captures the perverted hold religion can have on a person is My Summer of Love. A man's relationship with his sister is destroyed through his new-found fundamental beliefs. I know people who are at risk of losing any real connection they might have had with much of their family because of strict views that don't allow for true compassion or warmth. I live a very loving, caring life, but much of what I do and say is not church sanctioned.

The idea that our existence is born out of a series of random chance events is terrifying for many people. We must have a purpose, right? Maybe we’re just here for the time being, and we can make what we want of it. But, some would argue that if we have no purpose, there's no point to it all. Why not just kill for fun and then off ourselves while we’re at it? Why bother being nice to others unless it’s a means to get to heavenly bliss? Can we be good without God? Does a lack of faith cause a lack of conscience?

I actually think that rejecting God can allow for a more sincere morality. We can be good without threat of punishment or loss of rewards. In fact, can we really call someone “good” who only acts kindly in hopes of eternal salvation? I’m much more inspired by those who do right for the sake of what’s right without expectation of fame, fortune, or spiritual longevity.

We can choose to be kind and loving simply because it’s the most intelligent way to live with a bunch of other people. I won’t steal from you or stab you in the back if you promise to treat me likewise. Hell, even if you steal from me, I’ll still refrain from stealing because harming others makes me feel bad. It’s my conscience, a bunch of neurons firing in a sea of hormones, not God, that dictates right and wrong for me. I’ll even go the extra mile to give you food or shelter or help if you need it. Sharing resources builds communities. Good acts are rewarding in their own right. Even the most selfish person will see the benefit of creating allies to help protect the fort against potential thieves or murderers. Don’t harm others, keep out of harm’s way, and try to help out when you can. Imagine if religiously zealous political leaders followed that moral code.

But in rejecting religion, I’m not about to throw the baby out with the bathwater. There’s lots of good stuff in many biblical passages. To be Christian necessitates a belief in the big guy in the sky, and I can't go there; however I do strongly agree with most of what Jesus was saying. Jesus had a very egalitarian mindset. While his moral code isn’t specifically focused on feminism, it certainly goes hand in hand with the hope for equity between genders and the cessation of exploitation of human beings everywhere. I can still use the ideas that I like, the ones about loving forgiveness and such, and leave behind the homophobic sexist and racist crap. I appreciate much of the philosophy in the Gospels without buying that Jesus has any family ties to some self-absorbed micro-managing creator of the universe.

And without religion to guide me, I’m forced to become more introspective and to really think about my actions. I have to make my own guidebook and help my children do the same. The rituals of a church strengthen community ties. But my neighbourhood has on-going e-mail discussions and gatherings to develop a lovely supportive group for everyone within a few blocks. I have no intention of leaving the benefits of church participation behind.

I could posit several arguments against God’s existence, but faith is about belief not proof. However, one idea I’ve never seen addressed, I thought of while watching the film, Metropolis: If God is perfect, why did he change his tune so much between the old and new testaments? A perfect being can’t develop into something better over time or it wouldn’t have been perfect to begin with. Generally speaking, God made a dramatic shift from “an eye for an eye” to “turn the other cheek.” He got all soft and gooey: no more floods or using cruel means to test people’s faith, or sending back armies to kill all the women and children (except virginal girls to be taken as wives), or sanctioning ethnic cleansing, or prescribing a good stoning if you come across a sinner. He has a kid and suddenly he’s all about forgiveness and loving your neighbour; now you just get condemned to eternal damnation if you even think an unkind thought. Then in "Revelation" he starts really kicking ass again. Human beings evolve dramatically individually and historically, but can a perfect being flip-flop?

We can make this world a better place for all of humanity. We waste time waiting for God to help us, to give us a sign or send us another saviour. Since there is no afterlife, it’s more crucial to make heaven out of this mess of a planet we live on. We get one chance. One. This is it. Get busy.