“Welcome to Me” (2014 production, 2015 release). Cast: Kristen Wiig, Wes Bentley, Tim Robbins, Jennifer Jason Leigh, James Marsden, Joan Cusack, Linda Cardellini, Loretta Devine, Thomas Mann, Alan Tudyk, Mitch Silpa, Kulap Vilaysack, Joyce Hiller Piven, Jack Wallace. Director: Shira Piven. Screenplay: Eliot Laurence. Web site. Trailer.
Becoming self-aware is something we each do in our own way. Much depends on what we feel we need to discover about ourselves in the first place, which obviously varies – sometimes considerably – from person to person, based on the circumstances we’ve each created in our respective existences. This task can be especially daunting when those circumstances are characterized by particular types of challenges in need of resolution, as evidenced by the experience of a lost soul in search of herself in the hilarious new dark comedy, “Welcome to Me.”
What would you do with your money if you suddenly found yourself the recipient of an $86 million lottery prize? Many of us would likely buy a nice home, spring for an expensive car or travel the world in style. But, when Alice Klieg (Kristen Wiig) comes up a winner, she has some rather unusual ideas for how to spend her fortune. That shouldn’t come as any surprise, though, because Alice is by no means typical – and in almost every way.
Alice, a divorced former veterinary nurse, is obsessed with watching television talk shows (especially Oprah reruns) and self-help informercials. She has plenty of time for it, too; as a patient undergoing treatment for borderline personality disorder, she’s on state-sponsored psychiatric disability and receives counseling from a kindly (and extremely tolerant) therapist, Dr. Daryl Moffet (Tim Robbins). Despite these circumstances, Alice aspires to do “something big” with her life, yet her condition has forced her into a rather limited, low-key existence. That all changes, however, when she learns of her newfound wealth.
The freedom afforded by an $86 million windfall allows Alice to at last follow her dreams. She decides she wants to be on TV and approaches an infomercial production company about creating her own reality/talk show, a two-hour daily broadcast entirely devoted to her, titled Welcome to Me. Needless to say, the production staff is initially baffled by her strange request. Gabe Ruskin (Wes Bentley), one of the company’s co-owners, and two of its staff members, producer Deb Moseley (Jennifer Jason Leigh) and director Dawn Hurley (Joan Cusack), have reservations about airing a vanity program like this. However, when Alice announces that she’ll bankroll the entire project – for a tidy sum of $15 million – attitudes quickly change.
Given the production company’s financially strapped status, the sudden infusion of a huge pile of cash holds a lot of appeal, particularly for the organization’s other co-owner, Rich Ruskin (James Marsden), Gabe’s brother. And so, despite some obvious challenges with show content, Welcome to Me quickly gets the green light. But, production issues aside, there’s another even bigger problem that everyone will have to contend with – Alice’s revelation that she’s gone off her meds.
Those who care about Alice, including her parents (Joyce Hiller Piven, Jack Wallace), her gay ex-husband (Alan Tudyk) and his lover (Mitch Silpa), and her best friend, Gina (Linda Cardellini), are dismayed by her recent behavior. Dr. Moffet is especially troubled by her decision to cease taking her medication. But, as impulsive and irrational as these actions might seem, they pale in comparison to what happens when the show goes into production. And, no matter how wacky or outlandish Alice’s on- and off-air antics may be, she’s able to continue doing as she pleases as long as there are enablers – and money – to make her whims happen.
Welcome to Me quickly becomes an exercise in hilarious, bizarre, unrestrained behavior, full of riotous rants, unconventional on-air segments and even reenactments of incidents from Alice’s past. And, thanks to the show’s circus-like atmosphere, the program even begins to develop a modest following. But how long can this go on? What’s more, how long should it be allowed to go on? Indeed, when will the alleged “humor” stop being funny? Those are troubling concerns. But, not unlike a program of psychiatric care, Alice must let the process run its course to its eventual outcome – whatever that may ultimately be.
Superficially speaking, the scenario playing out here is undoubtedly one of the oddest narratives ever put to the big screen. But, when one looks beneath the surface, there’s clearly a lot going on, much of which may not be readily apparent at first glance. This is particularly true from the standpoint of conscious creation, the philosophy that maintains we manifest the reality we experience based on our beliefs, thoughts and intents.
For instance, it’s obvious that Alice fundamentally grasps this concept, even if she can’t cogently put it into words or doesn’t fully understand its implications. Nevertheless, by her own admission, she’s positive that the circumstances of our lives aren’t a matter of luck but a consequence of something that intentionally arises from within each of us. She doesn’t quite have the mechanics right, but she certainly has the essence correct. And, for many of us, coming to that basic understanding is more than half the battle.
Of course, even with an understanding of the process, a general awareness of its existence can’t overcome a failure to realize the ramifications involved in it, a shortfall that can carry serious consequences. And, to a great degree, that becomes readily apparent through what Alice and her TV colleagues create.
For example, Alice says she wants to do something big with her life, and, inspired by all the television she has watched over the years, she sees her show as the medium to accomplish that goal. But, given her state of mind, with its jumbled assortment of beliefs, and her ensuing erratic behavior, does she fully realize everything she’s doing? How do cooking segments involving recipes for meatloaf cake with sweet potato frosting or public service spots featuring uncensored on-air pet neutering equate to doing “something big”? Is the greater good really being served when the show presents re-creations of seemingly trivial incidents from Alice’s teenage years, such as when someone supposedly rifled through her makeup bag without her permission? Yet such enigmatic incidents regularly constitute the content of Welcome to Me. Such manifestations, bizarre though they may be, are all Alice’s brainchildren, all of which originate from the beliefs that reside in her consciousness and subsequently spring forth into materialization. And, because she’s created the means to bring them into being (i.e., by conjuring up enough money to produce a show permitting such antics and to hire a complicit production staff to execute her wishes), there’s nothing stopping her from seeing her beliefs through to realization, no matter how off the wall they may be.
So how did such patently absurd manifestations become unleashed? It most likely happened when Alice decided to go off her medication, which Dr. Moffet had prescribed to stabilize her moods. With those moods stabilized, however, Alice also stifled her inner impulses. The beliefs she had been harboring for years were thus denied expression – that is, until she allowed their release with the removal of the impediment that had long suppressed them.
The question, of course, is, why did Alice decide to do this now? A number of explanations are possible. In one regard, the money provided her the means to make all this happen. But, in another respect, perhaps Alice saw a deeper purpose, a need to manifest an alternative “treatment” to the mind-numbing therapy she had been going through for years without any meaningful, tangible results. By having allowed herself to be medicated into submission – and, consequently, not being able to address the underlying issues that were the source of her emotional discomfort – Alice was prevented from tackling the beliefs that triggered her condition and put her into counseling in the first place.
However, with the medicinal barriers removed, and by having access to a milieu for giving expression to those long-suppressed beliefs, Alice now has an opportunity to try a different approach for working out the issues that conventional therapy failed to rectify. Alice most likely isn’t consciously aware that she’s doing any of this, and not all of her efforts may bear fruit. But, despite such shortcomings, she nevertheless has a medium at her disposal to explore different avenues for resolving her issues and to use (and hone) her manifestation skills for creating a more satisfying reality. And, if this approach gets results that other more traditional efforts couldn’t, then why not try it (unconventional though it may be)?
As Alice works her way through this process, it becomes clear that she’s wrestling with some personally painful issues. Some of them may be somewhat overblown, but others have definitely caused her anguish for a long time, primarily due to a lack of resolution. Alice now has a chance to change that. And, by doing so publicly, she also has an opportunity to draw attention to (and to raise awareness and support for) an issue that may well affect others similarly (and, if that’s not doing “something big,” then I don’t know what is).
With that said, however, the foregoing doesn’t absolve anyone involved in the creation of this scenario from their responsibility for its materialization (and all of its attendant ramifications). That’s especially true for the production company staff. They quite clearly see that there’s something wrong with Alice, yet, rather than take her off the air, they let her carry on with whatever tantrums and eccentric behavior she wants, all because she pays them to let her do it. While the money may provide a short-term fix for their cash flow problem, it comes at a cost. This becomes painfully apparent when the company’s attorney, Barb Vaughn (Loretta Devine), notifies the staff about a growing stack of defamation lawsuits filed against the organization for allegedly slanderous accusations made by Alice during her reenactment sequences in which she names the names of those who supposedly wronged her. While all the parties in this scenario may have firmly bought into the belief that “money talks,” at least some of them may not be aware that such “chatter” often carries consequences, some of which may require the creation of a lot of cash to keep the conversation going. Adopting a more responsible stance from the outset often costs less, but that’s a lesson Rich and his money-hungry colleagues might have to get the hard way given the beliefs they’ve employed in creating these circumstances.
From a responsibility standpoint, some might believe the filmmakers have abandoned their sense of it by using a humorous approach for addressing a topic that isn’t inherently funny. But it’s important to recognize that the picture isn’t laughing at the issue of mental illness but laughing about it in making its point. Humor is often a highly effective way of drawing attention to issues of noteworthy concern, and it has been employed quite successfully many times in addressing the mental health question, as seen in films like “King of Hearts” (1966), “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest” (1975), “What About Bob?” (1991) and “Blue Jasmine” (2013). “Welcome to Me” is merely the latest offering in that vein, and it does its job well, even if it pushes the envelope considerably further than most of its predecessors. It may make some viewers squirm a bit at times, perhaps even prompting them to question the appropriateness of their laughter during certain sequences. Yet, by reading between the laughs, there won’t be any doubt where the filmmakers are coming from.
Overall, the picture hits the mark in almost every regard. It features a stellar performance by Wiig, who’s really showing her chops as a versatile actress and not just as a formula comedienne (much like she did in “The Skeleton Twins”
(2014)). The film is also an excellent showcase for the inventive work of first-time screenwriter Eliot Laurence. Admittedly, the story meanders a little at times, with some story lines that don’t feel fully fleshed out, such as those involving Alice’s friendship with Gina and her budding romantic relationships with Gabe and with an impressionable college student (Thomas Mann). However, despite such drawbacks, the film never fails to entertain while delivering insights from which we can all benefit. The picture is currently playing in limited release in theaters specializing in independent cinema, as well as on various video streaming services, and DVD and Blu-ray disk preorders are available from major online retailers.
The route to self-awareness can take many different paths. What’s most important, though, is that we follow through on reaching our destination, no matter how we may choose to get there. If that means intentionally manifesting physical representations of the sources of our frustrations and purposely plunging ourselves into them to bring about resolution and personal understanding, then so be it. It’s certainly not the only option for achieving that goal, but, if it works, then more power to it – and to all of the other possibilities that ultimately help us to better know ourselves.
Copyright © 2015, by Brent Marchant. All rights reserved.
Friday, May 15, 2015
Thursday, May 7, 2015
‘Tangerines’ indicts the perils of belief entrenchment
“Tangerines” (“Mandariinid”) (2013 production, 2015 release). Cast: Lembit Ulfsak, Elmo Nüganen, Giorgi Nakashidze, Mikheil Meskhi, Raivo Trass. Director: Zaza Urushadze. Screenplay: Zaza Urushadze. Web site. Trailer.
We all get stuck from time to time. Whether it’s the funk of a rut or something more debilitating, the feelings it engenders are often quite strong. That can be especially true when elements of spite work into the mix, producing emotions that take on a life of their own and often prevent us from seeing our way clear of it. Such is the case in the gripping Estonian wartime drama, “Tangerines” (“Mandariinid”).
Set in 1992 in the Abkhazia region of the former Soviet republic of Georgia, the film follows a trio of principals caught up in a bitter civil war. Abkhazian separatists, backed by Russians and mercenaries from Chechnya, sought to take control of the area and thwart the efforts of Georgian peace keepers charged with quelling the rebel uprising. Initial skirmishes escalated into full-scale battles, and many were killed. Caught between these warring factions were communities of ethnic Estonians, whose ancestors immigrated to the region nearly a century earlier and lived peaceful lives as farmers for generations. By the time the war began, many had fled to their Baltic homeland, but a few brave souls remained behind, including the pivotal character in this story.
Despite the conflict going on around him, Ivo (Lembit Ulfsak) strives to continue leading the quiet life he always has. Even though most of the aging farmer’s friends and relatives have fled to the safety of their native Estonia, Ivo has chosen to remain behind for personal reasons. He spends his days tending his land and building wooden shipping crates for his neighbor, Margus (Elmo Nüganen), a tangerine farmer who has opted to tough it out long enough to harvest his crop before retreating to his homeland. But, as much as the two holdouts try to maintain their normal routines, they can’t escape the impact of a war that has now come to their doorstep.
Ivo (Lembit Ulfsak), an aging Estonian farmer living in the former Soviet republic of Georgia, seeks to maintain a normal life in the face of a growing civil conflict in the Academy Award-nominated drama, “Tangerines.” Photo courtesy of Samuel Goldwyn Films.
The relative peace of Ivo’s existence is abruptly shattered when a small but nasty firefight takes place between rebel and Georgian forces at the edge of his property. Most of the combatants from each side are killed, but two of them – one from each faction – somehow manage to survive. Ahmed (Giorgi Nakashidze), a Chechan mercenary, and Niko (Mikheil Meskhi), a Georgian soldier, suffer serious injuries, but care is at hand. With the aid of Juhan (Raivo Trass), the local physician, Ivo takes in the survivors, tending to their wounds and slowly nursing them back to health.
However, despite Ivo’s good intentions, his humanitarian efforts quickly get put to the test. When the survivors learn of each other’s identity, they threaten to kill one another, but Ivo will have none of that; he insists that there be no bloodshed inside his home. Ahmed and Niko begrudgingly agree to their host’s terms, but they vow to make good on their threats once they’ve recovered.
Ahmed (Giorgi Nakashidze, right), a Chechan mercenary fighting for rebel forces in the former Soviet republic of Georgia, holds highly fixed views of his cause in director Zaza Urushadze’s gripping war drama, “Tangerines.” Photo courtesy of Samuel Goldwyn Films.
In the meantime, the enemies struggle to abide by the uneasy truce Ivo has brokered. Tensions bubble inside the home while growing ever stronger on the outside. But, at the same time, something else unexpected happens: The sworn foes begin to communicate, and they learn they may not be as different from one another as they’ve allowed themselves to believe. Attitudes start to change, especially when perilous circumstances arise that place everyone in the house in jeopardy, regardless of their political or ethnic affiliations. In fact, what begins to emerge has the potential to transform all concerned – provided they manage to survive.
Beliefs are marvelous metaphysical tools, and they can work wonders, as anyone who practices conscious creation – the philosophy that maintains our reality arises from those beliefs, thoughts and intents – can attest. They’re especially useful in an existence like ours, one based on physicality, which requires “substantive” (i.e., strongly held) beliefs to supply the ample “density” needed to materialize a reality that operates according to such ground rules. However, when our beliefs become so entrenched that we lose sight of why we developed them in the first place, they can blind us in our manifestation efforts, turning our thoughts into rigid, inflexible dogma. That can be especially troublesome in connection with beliefs related to conflict.
Some may wonder why anyone would even want to create combativeness, though it can serve a useful purpose for working out certain issues and learning certain life lessons that may not be attainable in other ways. However, the beliefs associated with such manifestations can pose a real danger when we allow them to grow so powerful that we can’t see our way out of them or why we allowed their formation in the first place. We lose sight of the larger context into which they were introduced and see only the highly charged aspects of what they’ve wrought. It’s as if we develop a sort of metaphysical tunnel vision that we can’t look beyond.
Needless to say, such outlooks are incredibly limiting. They prevent us from being able to see options or to comprehend our ability for adopting change. And, when they’re viewed solely in terms of achieving a particular goal, we run the risk of engaging in un-conscious creation, the practice where we pursue specific outcomes at all costs, with no regard for the consequences or our responsibility in the matter.
Margus (Elmo Nüganen, left), an Estonian citrus farmer in the war-torn former Soviet republic of Georgia, aided by his neighbor, Ivo (Lembit Ulfsak, right), hopes to tough out his circumstances long enough to harvest his crop before fleeing to his homeland in the Oscar-nominated drama, “Tangerines.” Photo courtesy of Samuel Goldwyn Films.
These kinds of issues litter the metaphysical landscape in “Tangerines.” Ahmed, Niko and their colleagues (all of whom are now deceased, by the way) have allowed themselves to become prisoners of their own beliefs. They’re so invested in personal hatred that they don’t even know why they’re angry at each other. Their constricted viewpoints threaten to suffocate them, and to what end? If they ever hope to get themselves out of these paralyzing circumstances, that’s the question they must begin to ask themselves.
That’s where Ivo’s presence comes into play. By dictating terms that the antagonists will not kill each other while under his roof, he opens up a space for Ahmed and Niko to reconsider their stances. And some part of them must have wanted that to happen, too; otherwise, they would not have drawn Ivo and his conditions into their presence. Their host serves as a de facto mediator in their conflict, forcing them to think about what they’re doing and why, as well as whether they want to carry through on their stated intents.
The experience of the three principals in this story demonstrates that change (and even transformation) are indeed possible – if we allow it. Of course, for this to happen, they must realize that they always have choices available to them (even under circumstances where they believe they don’t) and then be willing to act on them. Whether they (or we) follow through under these conditions depends on their will and desire to make it happen.
A shift in perspective can lead to a shift in beliefs, which, in turn, can lead to a shift in outcomes. There are many instances where this can breathe a breath of fresh air into existences that have grown stale and stagnant. But, in my view, it’s especially crucial for bringing about resolution in matters of warfare, where beliefs can become almost irretrievably fixed, leading to profound and prolonged suffering, simply because we can’t see (or won’t allow ourselves to see) our way out of our circumstances. Yet, if we’re willing to take those tentative but courageous steps toward adopting a wider view, we just may be able to see our way clear, to embrace new beliefs that are more beneficial to both us and those with whom we interact.
One would hope that the end game in all this is a realization that we’re all fundamentally connected, no matter how seemingly separate and distinct we may appear to one another. Such awareness might be exactly what it takes to help us realize that, when we attack one another, we’re essentially attacking some part of ourselves. Why would we want to do that? If we’re unable to come up with a compelling reason for doing so, then maybe we won’t be so quick to do it again (goodness knows we’ve certainly been doing it long enough). This would free up our consciousness to use it for other more interesting, more productive pursuits. Let’s hope we’re able to follow through with that.
The strain of war weighs heavily on Ivo (Lembit Ulfsak, right), a peace-loving Estonian farmer living in the former Soviet republic of Georgia, in director Zaza Urushadze’s gripping war drama, “Tangerines.” Photo courtesy of Samuel Goldwyn Films.
“Tangerines” is a brilliant piece of filmmaking, a movie that’s taut, suspenseful, absorbing and deeply affecting. Zaza Urushadze’s superbly crafted atmospheric direction effectively creates a tense, claustrophobic edginess, punctuated by a strong underpinning of melancholy that comes with the heartache of war. The picture’s excellent ensemble cast features outstanding performances across the board, especially those of Ulfsak and Nakashidze. These elements, along with the film’s haunting soundtrack, make for a moving cinematic experience that one won’t easily forget. And, for its efforts, the picture deservedly earned Oscar and Golden Globe Award nominations for best foreign language film. The picture is currently playing in limited release in theaters specializing in foreign and independent cinema, and DVD preorders for the film are already being taken by major online retailers.
Seeking resolution to our self-imposed stalemates can be an arduous process, especially if we can’t even identify their existence. But taking a step back to get a bigger picture of things can help us break the logjams and find ways to move forward. And, as “Tangerines” shows, in matters of warfare and conflict, such realizations can’t come soon enough.
Copyright © 2015, by Brent Marchant. All rights reserved.
We all get stuck from time to time. Whether it’s the funk of a rut or something more debilitating, the feelings it engenders are often quite strong. That can be especially true when elements of spite work into the mix, producing emotions that take on a life of their own and often prevent us from seeing our way clear of it. Such is the case in the gripping Estonian wartime drama, “Tangerines” (“Mandariinid”).
Set in 1992 in the Abkhazia region of the former Soviet republic of Georgia, the film follows a trio of principals caught up in a bitter civil war. Abkhazian separatists, backed by Russians and mercenaries from Chechnya, sought to take control of the area and thwart the efforts of Georgian peace keepers charged with quelling the rebel uprising. Initial skirmishes escalated into full-scale battles, and many were killed. Caught between these warring factions were communities of ethnic Estonians, whose ancestors immigrated to the region nearly a century earlier and lived peaceful lives as farmers for generations. By the time the war began, many had fled to their Baltic homeland, but a few brave souls remained behind, including the pivotal character in this story.
Despite the conflict going on around him, Ivo (Lembit Ulfsak) strives to continue leading the quiet life he always has. Even though most of the aging farmer’s friends and relatives have fled to the safety of their native Estonia, Ivo has chosen to remain behind for personal reasons. He spends his days tending his land and building wooden shipping crates for his neighbor, Margus (Elmo Nüganen), a tangerine farmer who has opted to tough it out long enough to harvest his crop before retreating to his homeland. But, as much as the two holdouts try to maintain their normal routines, they can’t escape the impact of a war that has now come to their doorstep.
The relative peace of Ivo’s existence is abruptly shattered when a small but nasty firefight takes place between rebel and Georgian forces at the edge of his property. Most of the combatants from each side are killed, but two of them – one from each faction – somehow manage to survive. Ahmed (Giorgi Nakashidze), a Chechan mercenary, and Niko (Mikheil Meskhi), a Georgian soldier, suffer serious injuries, but care is at hand. With the aid of Juhan (Raivo Trass), the local physician, Ivo takes in the survivors, tending to their wounds and slowly nursing them back to health.
However, despite Ivo’s good intentions, his humanitarian efforts quickly get put to the test. When the survivors learn of each other’s identity, they threaten to kill one another, but Ivo will have none of that; he insists that there be no bloodshed inside his home. Ahmed and Niko begrudgingly agree to their host’s terms, but they vow to make good on their threats once they’ve recovered.
In the meantime, the enemies struggle to abide by the uneasy truce Ivo has brokered. Tensions bubble inside the home while growing ever stronger on the outside. But, at the same time, something else unexpected happens: The sworn foes begin to communicate, and they learn they may not be as different from one another as they’ve allowed themselves to believe. Attitudes start to change, especially when perilous circumstances arise that place everyone in the house in jeopardy, regardless of their political or ethnic affiliations. In fact, what begins to emerge has the potential to transform all concerned – provided they manage to survive.
Beliefs are marvelous metaphysical tools, and they can work wonders, as anyone who practices conscious creation – the philosophy that maintains our reality arises from those beliefs, thoughts and intents – can attest. They’re especially useful in an existence like ours, one based on physicality, which requires “substantive” (i.e., strongly held) beliefs to supply the ample “density” needed to materialize a reality that operates according to such ground rules. However, when our beliefs become so entrenched that we lose sight of why we developed them in the first place, they can blind us in our manifestation efforts, turning our thoughts into rigid, inflexible dogma. That can be especially troublesome in connection with beliefs related to conflict.
Some may wonder why anyone would even want to create combativeness, though it can serve a useful purpose for working out certain issues and learning certain life lessons that may not be attainable in other ways. However, the beliefs associated with such manifestations can pose a real danger when we allow them to grow so powerful that we can’t see our way out of them or why we allowed their formation in the first place. We lose sight of the larger context into which they were introduced and see only the highly charged aspects of what they’ve wrought. It’s as if we develop a sort of metaphysical tunnel vision that we can’t look beyond.
Needless to say, such outlooks are incredibly limiting. They prevent us from being able to see options or to comprehend our ability for adopting change. And, when they’re viewed solely in terms of achieving a particular goal, we run the risk of engaging in un-conscious creation, the practice where we pursue specific outcomes at all costs, with no regard for the consequences or our responsibility in the matter.
These kinds of issues litter the metaphysical landscape in “Tangerines.” Ahmed, Niko and their colleagues (all of whom are now deceased, by the way) have allowed themselves to become prisoners of their own beliefs. They’re so invested in personal hatred that they don’t even know why they’re angry at each other. Their constricted viewpoints threaten to suffocate them, and to what end? If they ever hope to get themselves out of these paralyzing circumstances, that’s the question they must begin to ask themselves.
That’s where Ivo’s presence comes into play. By dictating terms that the antagonists will not kill each other while under his roof, he opens up a space for Ahmed and Niko to reconsider their stances. And some part of them must have wanted that to happen, too; otherwise, they would not have drawn Ivo and his conditions into their presence. Their host serves as a de facto mediator in their conflict, forcing them to think about what they’re doing and why, as well as whether they want to carry through on their stated intents.
The experience of the three principals in this story demonstrates that change (and even transformation) are indeed possible – if we allow it. Of course, for this to happen, they must realize that they always have choices available to them (even under circumstances where they believe they don’t) and then be willing to act on them. Whether they (or we) follow through under these conditions depends on their will and desire to make it happen.
A shift in perspective can lead to a shift in beliefs, which, in turn, can lead to a shift in outcomes. There are many instances where this can breathe a breath of fresh air into existences that have grown stale and stagnant. But, in my view, it’s especially crucial for bringing about resolution in matters of warfare, where beliefs can become almost irretrievably fixed, leading to profound and prolonged suffering, simply because we can’t see (or won’t allow ourselves to see) our way out of our circumstances. Yet, if we’re willing to take those tentative but courageous steps toward adopting a wider view, we just may be able to see our way clear, to embrace new beliefs that are more beneficial to both us and those with whom we interact.
One would hope that the end game in all this is a realization that we’re all fundamentally connected, no matter how seemingly separate and distinct we may appear to one another. Such awareness might be exactly what it takes to help us realize that, when we attack one another, we’re essentially attacking some part of ourselves. Why would we want to do that? If we’re unable to come up with a compelling reason for doing so, then maybe we won’t be so quick to do it again (goodness knows we’ve certainly been doing it long enough). This would free up our consciousness to use it for other more interesting, more productive pursuits. Let’s hope we’re able to follow through with that.
“Tangerines” is a brilliant piece of filmmaking, a movie that’s taut, suspenseful, absorbing and deeply affecting. Zaza Urushadze’s superbly crafted atmospheric direction effectively creates a tense, claustrophobic edginess, punctuated by a strong underpinning of melancholy that comes with the heartache of war. The picture’s excellent ensemble cast features outstanding performances across the board, especially those of Ulfsak and Nakashidze. These elements, along with the film’s haunting soundtrack, make for a moving cinematic experience that one won’t easily forget. And, for its efforts, the picture deservedly earned Oscar and Golden Globe Award nominations for best foreign language film. The picture is currently playing in limited release in theaters specializing in foreign and independent cinema, and DVD preorders for the film are already being taken by major online retailers.
Seeking resolution to our self-imposed stalemates can be an arduous process, especially if we can’t even identify their existence. But taking a step back to get a bigger picture of things can help us break the logjams and find ways to move forward. And, as “Tangerines” shows, in matters of warfare and conflict, such realizations can’t come soon enough.
Copyright © 2015, by Brent Marchant. All rights reserved.
Thursday, April 30, 2015
‘Age of Adaline’ examines the nature – and quality – of life
“The Age of Adaline” (2015). Cast: Blake Lively, Michiel Huisman, Harrison Ford, Ellen Burstyn, Kathy Baker, Amanda Crew, Anthony Ingruber, Peter J. Gray, Hugh Ross (narrator). Director: Lee Roland Krieger. Screenplay: J. Mills Goodloe and Salvador Paskowitz. Story: J. Mills Goodloe and Salvador Paskowitz. Web site. Trailer.
As our population ages, quality of life issues have come under increased scrutiny. What makes for an acceptable existence? Does our reality measure up to our expectations? And who is ultimately responsible for what makes a good life? These sorts of questions are in the forefront of the minds of many seniors, but what happens when they preoccupy the thoughts of someone considerably more youthful? That’s one of many such issues raised in the new metaphysical romance, “The Age of Adaline.”
Adaline Bowman (Blake Lively) has led a long and interesting life – a very long and interesting life. Having been born in 1908, the San Francisco native grew up in the Bay Area, eventually marrying Clarence James Prescott, a talented, handsome young architect (Peter J. Gray) and giving birth to a daughter, Flemming. Regrettably, Clarence was killed in an accident during construction of the Golden Gate Bridge, leaving Adaline widowed at a young age. But, being the determined soul that she was, she carried on, raising her daughter as best she could as a single mother. However, nothing could have prepared her for what came next.
While driving to her parents’ country home through the wilderness of Sonoma County, Adaline encountered a freak snowstorm. As beautiful as this sight was, however, this unusual inclement weather challenged the California native’s driving skills. She quickly lost control of her car, which crashed and became submerged in water. With the life draining out of her body, Adaline was near death when, even more unexpectedly, a bolt of lightning struck from out of the blue, hitting her vehicle and sending a jolt of electricity through her body that shocked her back to life. Amazing as that was, though, Adaline became the recipient of something equally miraculous – she completely stopped aging. From that point forward, she was spared the physical ravages of time, destined to be 27 forever.
Adaline Bowman (Blake Lively) lives a long and interesting life, and carries a big secret about herself, in the new romantic fantasy, “The Age of Adaline.” Photo by Diyah Pera, courtesy of Lionsgate.
As enviable as many might find this attribute, Adaline soon learned it was also a curse. With others around her aging normally, she continually had to devise excuses to explain her perpetual youthfulness. And, over time, rumor of her condition eventually made its way to the authorities, who seized Adaline to subject her to experiments to discover the nature of her secret. Fortunately, she managed to escape, but that forced her to go on the run, necessitating periodic makeovers and the adoption of new aliases to keep her true identity safe. She told no one about herself or her whereabouts except her daughter, though their encounters were inherently brief, infrequent and clandestine.
Such was how Adaline spent the next 60 years. Her life was rather lonely. She watched Flemming age into a senior citizen (Ellen Burstyn), and she kept most attachments (especially those of a romantic nature) at arm’s length, knowing that, because of her condition, she could never truly grow old with someone. But, after so many years living in the shadows, such thinking is about to change.
While preparing for yet another move and another new alias, Adaline has a romantic encounter with a handsome young philanthropist, Ellis Jones (Michiel Huisman). As much as she resists becoming involved, she can’t help but fall for his charm, kindness and good looks. And, at Flemming’s urging, she decides to at last take a chance on love. But Adaline’s resolve for this uncharacteristic behavior gets put to the test when she and Ellis attend the 40th wedding anniversary celebration of his parents, William (Harrison Ford) and Kathy (Kathy Baker). Circumstances arise that threaten the exposure of her long-held secret. How she responds – and what comes from it – will change her life (and her outlook about it) forever.
Despite her resolve to avoid romantic attachments to protect a personal secret, Adaline Bowman (Blake Lively, right) can’t help but fall for the charms of a handsome young philanthropist, Ellis Jones (Michiel Huisman, left), in “The Age of Adaline.” Photo by Diyah Pera, courtesy of Lionsgate.
From the standpoint of conscious creation, the philosophy that maintains we manifest our existence through our beliefs, thoughts and intents, Adaline’s reality is quite an intriguing materialization. Many of us would no doubt like to experience an existence in which we never age. Consider the upside of remaining youthful, healthy and attractive all of our lives; the temptation behind that is certainly formidable. But consider the downside as well – having to watch those we love and care about age, grow old and die while we stay permanently stuck at a fixed age. It might be more palatable if everyone else were to create the same type of existence as us, but such is not the case for Adaline; she must endure a reality that’s both a blessing and a burden.
Under circumstances like these, many often ask why would someone want to create a reality like this? As is usually the case, such challenging forms of existence generally have to do with learning particular types of life lessons, teachings and experiences that might not be attainable under other conditions. One can only speculate as to Adaline’s reasons, but some possibilities include learning what it’s like to have seemingly perpetual youth and everything that comes with that, for better or worse. Another option is that it affords an opportunity to amass the equivalent of multiple lifetimes’ worth of experience entirely within a single life span, something that others might only be able to obtain through a number of reincarnational existences. Or there could be yet other reasons known only to Adaline herself. But, no matter what emerges, the outcome always stems from whatever beliefs the creator holds in the first place.
As I see it, one of Adaline’s chief lessons in this little experiment in reality creation has to do with learning how to live as opposed to just existing. Despite having gifted herself with unending youthfulness, Adaline is rarely able to fully enjoy it. She must expend considerable effort maintaining an impenetrable façade, one that prevents her from truly relishing the joys that life has to offer. Simple pleasures that many of us take for granted, like falling in love for life, aren’t feasible for her, because the logistics just won’t work. What’s more, the pressure of always having to look over her shoulder to safeguard the secrecy of her identity can’t be any fun, especially when the effort needs to be maintained in perpetuity. A reality made up of experiences like that, to me at least, seems more like existing than living, and maybe Adaline manifested an existence like this to help her distinguish the difference – so that she can create something new, fresh and fulfilling for herself going forward.
A perpetually youthful Adaline Bowman (Blake Lively, right) must sit back and watch her daughter, Flemming (Ellen Burstyn, left), age and grow old before her eyes in “The Age of Adaline.” Photo by Diyah Pera, courtesy of Lionsgate.
If the foregoing is indeed true, how would Adaline proceed? Very simply, she needs to learn how to exercise her power of change, one of the cornerstone principles of conscious creation. Given the fact that this philosophy affords us access to an infinite number of probabilities for existence at any given moment, we can always change the direction in which we head if we dislike what we’ve materialized for ourselves.
Of course, we must first realize that we possess this power, something that we may not recognize, that we may take for granted and fail to exercise, or that we may fundamentally disbelieve. If we allow any of these impediments to get in our way, our ability to invoke change won’t happen, and our existence will continue on as it has. Only when we’ve tired of what we’ve manifested and discern that there must be other options available to us will we become aware of our power of change and our ability to rewrite our beliefs to create a new reality more to our liking. For her sake, we can only hope Adaline comes to that realization and brings into being the conditions necessary to make desired changes possible.
Despite its intriguing premise and thoughtful metaphysical themes, “The Age of Adaline,” unfortunately, suffers from a variety of execution problems that keep it from living up to its potential. To its credit, this modestly enjoyable romantic fantasy features capable supporting performances by Ford, Baker and Burstyn and fine production values spanning multiple decades. However, the film falls short with a meandering, underdeveloped script, an excessive amount of voice-over narration that grows progressively more annoying as the story unfolds, and a pair of leads who are clearly not up to the demands of their roles. While the picture might work well as a lightweight date movie or a fun option for a night out with the girls, viewers shouldn’t expect much more than that.
William Jones (Harrison Ford), a long and happily married man, grows understandably confused when presented with a seemingly unfathomable conundrum in the new metaphysical romance, “The Age of Adaline.” Photo by Diyah Pera, courtesy of Lionsgate.
We’ve all no doubt heard the expression “Life is what you make of it,” and that simple statement effectively summarizes the essence of conscious creation. Much of the time, however, we lose sight of that sentiment, especially as we become preoccupied with the minutiae of daily existence. That’s particularly true when we feel like we constantly have to scramble to prop up the appearances of a reality sorely in need of alteration. We need to take a wider view, to embrace our capacity for change and our ability to rewrite our beliefs for manifesting a greater sense of satisfaction and fulfillment. It would be in Adaline’s best interests if she learned from those lessons. And, in many cases, the same could be said for the rest of us.
Copyright © 2015, by Brent Marchant. All rights reserved.
As our population ages, quality of life issues have come under increased scrutiny. What makes for an acceptable existence? Does our reality measure up to our expectations? And who is ultimately responsible for what makes a good life? These sorts of questions are in the forefront of the minds of many seniors, but what happens when they preoccupy the thoughts of someone considerably more youthful? That’s one of many such issues raised in the new metaphysical romance, “The Age of Adaline.”
Adaline Bowman (Blake Lively) has led a long and interesting life – a very long and interesting life. Having been born in 1908, the San Francisco native grew up in the Bay Area, eventually marrying Clarence James Prescott, a talented, handsome young architect (Peter J. Gray) and giving birth to a daughter, Flemming. Regrettably, Clarence was killed in an accident during construction of the Golden Gate Bridge, leaving Adaline widowed at a young age. But, being the determined soul that she was, she carried on, raising her daughter as best she could as a single mother. However, nothing could have prepared her for what came next.
While driving to her parents’ country home through the wilderness of Sonoma County, Adaline encountered a freak snowstorm. As beautiful as this sight was, however, this unusual inclement weather challenged the California native’s driving skills. She quickly lost control of her car, which crashed and became submerged in water. With the life draining out of her body, Adaline was near death when, even more unexpectedly, a bolt of lightning struck from out of the blue, hitting her vehicle and sending a jolt of electricity through her body that shocked her back to life. Amazing as that was, though, Adaline became the recipient of something equally miraculous – she completely stopped aging. From that point forward, she was spared the physical ravages of time, destined to be 27 forever.
As enviable as many might find this attribute, Adaline soon learned it was also a curse. With others around her aging normally, she continually had to devise excuses to explain her perpetual youthfulness. And, over time, rumor of her condition eventually made its way to the authorities, who seized Adaline to subject her to experiments to discover the nature of her secret. Fortunately, she managed to escape, but that forced her to go on the run, necessitating periodic makeovers and the adoption of new aliases to keep her true identity safe. She told no one about herself or her whereabouts except her daughter, though their encounters were inherently brief, infrequent and clandestine.
Such was how Adaline spent the next 60 years. Her life was rather lonely. She watched Flemming age into a senior citizen (Ellen Burstyn), and she kept most attachments (especially those of a romantic nature) at arm’s length, knowing that, because of her condition, she could never truly grow old with someone. But, after so many years living in the shadows, such thinking is about to change.
While preparing for yet another move and another new alias, Adaline has a romantic encounter with a handsome young philanthropist, Ellis Jones (Michiel Huisman). As much as she resists becoming involved, she can’t help but fall for his charm, kindness and good looks. And, at Flemming’s urging, she decides to at last take a chance on love. But Adaline’s resolve for this uncharacteristic behavior gets put to the test when she and Ellis attend the 40th wedding anniversary celebration of his parents, William (Harrison Ford) and Kathy (Kathy Baker). Circumstances arise that threaten the exposure of her long-held secret. How she responds – and what comes from it – will change her life (and her outlook about it) forever.
From the standpoint of conscious creation, the philosophy that maintains we manifest our existence through our beliefs, thoughts and intents, Adaline’s reality is quite an intriguing materialization. Many of us would no doubt like to experience an existence in which we never age. Consider the upside of remaining youthful, healthy and attractive all of our lives; the temptation behind that is certainly formidable. But consider the downside as well – having to watch those we love and care about age, grow old and die while we stay permanently stuck at a fixed age. It might be more palatable if everyone else were to create the same type of existence as us, but such is not the case for Adaline; she must endure a reality that’s both a blessing and a burden.
Under circumstances like these, many often ask why would someone want to create a reality like this? As is usually the case, such challenging forms of existence generally have to do with learning particular types of life lessons, teachings and experiences that might not be attainable under other conditions. One can only speculate as to Adaline’s reasons, but some possibilities include learning what it’s like to have seemingly perpetual youth and everything that comes with that, for better or worse. Another option is that it affords an opportunity to amass the equivalent of multiple lifetimes’ worth of experience entirely within a single life span, something that others might only be able to obtain through a number of reincarnational existences. Or there could be yet other reasons known only to Adaline herself. But, no matter what emerges, the outcome always stems from whatever beliefs the creator holds in the first place.
As I see it, one of Adaline’s chief lessons in this little experiment in reality creation has to do with learning how to live as opposed to just existing. Despite having gifted herself with unending youthfulness, Adaline is rarely able to fully enjoy it. She must expend considerable effort maintaining an impenetrable façade, one that prevents her from truly relishing the joys that life has to offer. Simple pleasures that many of us take for granted, like falling in love for life, aren’t feasible for her, because the logistics just won’t work. What’s more, the pressure of always having to look over her shoulder to safeguard the secrecy of her identity can’t be any fun, especially when the effort needs to be maintained in perpetuity. A reality made up of experiences like that, to me at least, seems more like existing than living, and maybe Adaline manifested an existence like this to help her distinguish the difference – so that she can create something new, fresh and fulfilling for herself going forward.
If the foregoing is indeed true, how would Adaline proceed? Very simply, she needs to learn how to exercise her power of change, one of the cornerstone principles of conscious creation. Given the fact that this philosophy affords us access to an infinite number of probabilities for existence at any given moment, we can always change the direction in which we head if we dislike what we’ve materialized for ourselves.
Of course, we must first realize that we possess this power, something that we may not recognize, that we may take for granted and fail to exercise, or that we may fundamentally disbelieve. If we allow any of these impediments to get in our way, our ability to invoke change won’t happen, and our existence will continue on as it has. Only when we’ve tired of what we’ve manifested and discern that there must be other options available to us will we become aware of our power of change and our ability to rewrite our beliefs to create a new reality more to our liking. For her sake, we can only hope Adaline comes to that realization and brings into being the conditions necessary to make desired changes possible.
Despite its intriguing premise and thoughtful metaphysical themes, “The Age of Adaline,” unfortunately, suffers from a variety of execution problems that keep it from living up to its potential. To its credit, this modestly enjoyable romantic fantasy features capable supporting performances by Ford, Baker and Burstyn and fine production values spanning multiple decades. However, the film falls short with a meandering, underdeveloped script, an excessive amount of voice-over narration that grows progressively more annoying as the story unfolds, and a pair of leads who are clearly not up to the demands of their roles. While the picture might work well as a lightweight date movie or a fun option for a night out with the girls, viewers shouldn’t expect much more than that.
We’ve all no doubt heard the expression “Life is what you make of it,” and that simple statement effectively summarizes the essence of conscious creation. Much of the time, however, we lose sight of that sentiment, especially as we become preoccupied with the minutiae of daily existence. That’s particularly true when we feel like we constantly have to scramble to prop up the appearances of a reality sorely in need of alteration. We need to take a wider view, to embrace our capacity for change and our ability to rewrite our beliefs for manifesting a greater sense of satisfaction and fulfillment. It would be in Adaline’s best interests if she learned from those lessons. And, in many cases, the same could be said for the rest of us.
Copyright © 2015, by Brent Marchant. All rights reserved.
Wednesday, April 29, 2015
'Talking Story' on New Consciousness Review
Healing is a journey, one that can be both literal and metaphorical. Find out more by reading my review of the documentary "Talking Story," my latest post to the New Consciousness Review web site, available by clicking here.
Friday, April 24, 2015
‘Ex Machina’ probes creative responsibility
“Ex Machina” (2015). Cast: Domhnall Gleeson, Oscar Isaac, Alicia Vikander, Sonoya Mizuno. Director: Alex Garland. Screenplay: Alex Garland. Web site. Trailer.
Nothing in life comes without responsibility – or consequences. This can be especially crucial to bear in mind when manifesting the previously untried. Without adequate forethought, the results can carry far-reaching ramifications, some of which may be highly beneficial and others of which could be devastatingly difficult. That’s one of the significant lessons to emerge out of the new sci-fi thriller, “Ex Machina.”
Caleb Smith (Domhnall Gleeson) is thrilled when he receives some good news at work. As the winner of an internal company competition, the young computer coding whizz for an Internet search firm is the recipient of a much-coveted prize – spending a week with the brilliant, elusive, enigmatic founder of his organization, Nathan Bateman (Oscar Isaac). But that elation soon turns to trepidation when he embarks on his journey to Nathan’s secluded mountain retreat and personal research facility. The well-intentioned, idealistic young programmer quickly discovers he may be in way over his head.
Upon arrival at the remote sanctuary, Caleb learns that he’s basically alone with his boss, the only other person on the premises being Nathan’s non-English-speaking personal assistant, Kyoko (Sonoya Mizuno). He also finds that his boss is not what he expected. The wunderkind-turned-billionaire proves to be an arrogant, smarmy, often-inscrutable wise-ass who routinely spouts cryptic, disjointed statements and asks leading questions when he’s not being a hard-drinking party animal. In short, Caleb doesn’t quite know what to make of him.
That concern becomes compounded when Caleb learns the reason why Nathan has brought him to his retreat. As it turns out, Nathan has secretly developed a state-of-the-art robotic being named Ava (Alicia Vikander), and Caleb must figure out whether “she” has truly developed her own sentience. To make that determination, Caleb is charged with putting Ava through a Turing test, a line of inquiry proposed by pioneering computer scientist Alan Turing (the subject of the recently released biopic, “The Imitation Game”) for assessing whether a machine can think for itself. Caleb thus has one week to determine whether Ava is a bona fide form of artificial intelligence.
At the outset of the test, Caleb is impressed with Ava’s capabilities and Nathan’s accomplishment. But, as his daily sessions with Ava and his debriefings with Nathan unfold, Caleb becomes anxious about what he’s gotten himself into. Caleb’s interactions with inventor and invention grow progressively strange, and, just when he thinks he’s figured things out, a new misdirection comes along to throw him off the path. These exasperating conditions are further complicated by surprise developments, such as a series of disturbing discoveries and a string of unforeseen power outages that result in a complete lockdown of Nathan’s facility. And, as the week wears on, Caleb is torn between wanting to see how things turn out and looking to make a hasty escape. Like the audience, however, he’ll have to be patient and let matters play themselves out, which may end up being even more unpredictable than expected.
When we engage in the practice of conscious creation, the means by which we manifest our respective realities through the power of our thoughts, beliefs and intents, one of the most important considerations we must bear in mind is the notion of responsibility. When we bring something into being, it’s ours, for better or worse, because its very existence originates with us.
Accepting responsibility for a creation is relatively easy when it turns out well and when we and others are generally pleased with the results. But, when the outcome turns out differently than hoped for – particularly if it’s imbued with qualities we find disappointing, seemingly unintended or even undesirable – being accountable for it can be far more problematic. We may want to disavow our involvement in the wayward manifestation and seek to place blame for it elsewhere. However, no matter how much we might try to distance ourselves, the responsibility still rests with us.
The disappointment that comes from a materialization that doesn’t end up as hoped for can be debilitating. That being the case, the most effective solution to this dilemma would be to avoid creating it in the first place. But how?
As conscious creation practitioners well know, the process begins with our thoughts, beliefs and intents, so, if they’re “faulty” from the outset, what they yield will manifest in kind. For example, if we claim that we’re seeking to create something noble in nature but the beliefs we employ in doing so are tinged with less than honorable elements, should it come as any surprise if the results turn out to be different from what’s supposedly intended? It shouldn’t. In fact, the outcome will be an accurate reflection of the specific beliefs used in the manifestation process, warts and all.
This becomes all too apparent in the film. Nathan, for example, likes to think he’s creating something inventive and groundbreaking that will take mankind into a brave new era. However, in doing so, it’s also painfully obvious that he’s allowed his manifesting beliefs to become “compromised” by aspects of a personal agenda, elements reflective of his own selfish interests. Consequently, if he expects the outcome of his efforts to faithfully reflect the supposedly unblemished attributes he thinks he’s creating, he’s in for a rude awakening.
Likewise, as a trusting, honorable soul, Caleb would like to believe that others (like Nathan) operate from the same principled sensibility that he does. He’s willing to overlook the existence of unsavory aspects involved in the process, even when he senses their presence, because they don’t jibe with the approach he would use. Turning a blind eye, however, doesn’t erase his beliefs associated with his awareness of the objectionable elements, and these qualities work their way into the outcome, no matter how much he’d rather not see them materialize. The result, again, is disappointment, even if it dependably (and predictably) mirrors the intents that brought it into being.
The bottom line in this is that we must be careful what we create, and the effort starts with us and the beliefs we hold. If we’re truly honest with ourselves, one would hope we spot the pitfalls before they take shape. Eliminating them up front avoids unpleasant issues later on, an effort that should spare us considerable grief.
Should we choose to ignore this consideration, however, we run the risk of suffering the perils of un-conscious creation. When we create with no regard for the consequences, we must be prepared for what comes with that, the essence of practicing un-conscious creation. This can be especially true with the development of new technologies, where we may be so focused on the outcome that we lose sight of everything that potentially accompanies it. This can be particularly problematic for things like artificial intelligence, where we may purposely intend to abrogate our responsibility for its proper operation after its creation. In that regard, unless we employ “foolproof” beliefs from the outset (which may not be nearly as easy as imagined), we shouldn’t be surprised if circumstances don’t work out as hoped for. Once again, care and caution are the watchwords here, for, no matter what results, the responsibility for its creation rests squarely on our shoulders.
“Ex Machina” is a generally suspenseful thriller about the beauties and dangers of artificial intelligence, with a strong cautionary tale for all of us. Despite some occasional pacing issues, the film is well-written, with distinctive production values, beautiful cinematography and an engaging soundtrack. But what stands out most here are the picture’s excellent performances, with Gleeson, Isaac and Vikander all turning in some of the best work they’ve ever done on screen. Director Alex Garland has distinguished himself in his directorial debut, serving up one of this year’s best releases thus far and one of the finest, most credible science fiction offerings to come along in some time.
We’re all well aware of the notion of being careful what we wish for. In an age where rapidly changing technological advances make the seemingly once impossible wholly plausible with relative ease and speed, it’s particularly incumbent upon us that we bear the foregoing in mind. Should we do anything less, we may well pay a heavy price. Embracing our creative responsibility is thus essential to avoid unpleasant surprises to wind up with the results we seek.
Copyright © 2015, by Brent Marchant. All rights reserved.
Nothing in life comes without responsibility – or consequences. This can be especially crucial to bear in mind when manifesting the previously untried. Without adequate forethought, the results can carry far-reaching ramifications, some of which may be highly beneficial and others of which could be devastatingly difficult. That’s one of the significant lessons to emerge out of the new sci-fi thriller, “Ex Machina.”
Caleb Smith (Domhnall Gleeson) is thrilled when he receives some good news at work. As the winner of an internal company competition, the young computer coding whizz for an Internet search firm is the recipient of a much-coveted prize – spending a week with the brilliant, elusive, enigmatic founder of his organization, Nathan Bateman (Oscar Isaac). But that elation soon turns to trepidation when he embarks on his journey to Nathan’s secluded mountain retreat and personal research facility. The well-intentioned, idealistic young programmer quickly discovers he may be in way over his head.
Upon arrival at the remote sanctuary, Caleb learns that he’s basically alone with his boss, the only other person on the premises being Nathan’s non-English-speaking personal assistant, Kyoko (Sonoya Mizuno). He also finds that his boss is not what he expected. The wunderkind-turned-billionaire proves to be an arrogant, smarmy, often-inscrutable wise-ass who routinely spouts cryptic, disjointed statements and asks leading questions when he’s not being a hard-drinking party animal. In short, Caleb doesn’t quite know what to make of him.
That concern becomes compounded when Caleb learns the reason why Nathan has brought him to his retreat. As it turns out, Nathan has secretly developed a state-of-the-art robotic being named Ava (Alicia Vikander), and Caleb must figure out whether “she” has truly developed her own sentience. To make that determination, Caleb is charged with putting Ava through a Turing test, a line of inquiry proposed by pioneering computer scientist Alan Turing (the subject of the recently released biopic, “The Imitation Game”) for assessing whether a machine can think for itself. Caleb thus has one week to determine whether Ava is a bona fide form of artificial intelligence.
At the outset of the test, Caleb is impressed with Ava’s capabilities and Nathan’s accomplishment. But, as his daily sessions with Ava and his debriefings with Nathan unfold, Caleb becomes anxious about what he’s gotten himself into. Caleb’s interactions with inventor and invention grow progressively strange, and, just when he thinks he’s figured things out, a new misdirection comes along to throw him off the path. These exasperating conditions are further complicated by surprise developments, such as a series of disturbing discoveries and a string of unforeseen power outages that result in a complete lockdown of Nathan’s facility. And, as the week wears on, Caleb is torn between wanting to see how things turn out and looking to make a hasty escape. Like the audience, however, he’ll have to be patient and let matters play themselves out, which may end up being even more unpredictable than expected.
When we engage in the practice of conscious creation, the means by which we manifest our respective realities through the power of our thoughts, beliefs and intents, one of the most important considerations we must bear in mind is the notion of responsibility. When we bring something into being, it’s ours, for better or worse, because its very existence originates with us.
Accepting responsibility for a creation is relatively easy when it turns out well and when we and others are generally pleased with the results. But, when the outcome turns out differently than hoped for – particularly if it’s imbued with qualities we find disappointing, seemingly unintended or even undesirable – being accountable for it can be far more problematic. We may want to disavow our involvement in the wayward manifestation and seek to place blame for it elsewhere. However, no matter how much we might try to distance ourselves, the responsibility still rests with us.
The disappointment that comes from a materialization that doesn’t end up as hoped for can be debilitating. That being the case, the most effective solution to this dilemma would be to avoid creating it in the first place. But how?
As conscious creation practitioners well know, the process begins with our thoughts, beliefs and intents, so, if they’re “faulty” from the outset, what they yield will manifest in kind. For example, if we claim that we’re seeking to create something noble in nature but the beliefs we employ in doing so are tinged with less than honorable elements, should it come as any surprise if the results turn out to be different from what’s supposedly intended? It shouldn’t. In fact, the outcome will be an accurate reflection of the specific beliefs used in the manifestation process, warts and all.
This becomes all too apparent in the film. Nathan, for example, likes to think he’s creating something inventive and groundbreaking that will take mankind into a brave new era. However, in doing so, it’s also painfully obvious that he’s allowed his manifesting beliefs to become “compromised” by aspects of a personal agenda, elements reflective of his own selfish interests. Consequently, if he expects the outcome of his efforts to faithfully reflect the supposedly unblemished attributes he thinks he’s creating, he’s in for a rude awakening.
Likewise, as a trusting, honorable soul, Caleb would like to believe that others (like Nathan) operate from the same principled sensibility that he does. He’s willing to overlook the existence of unsavory aspects involved in the process, even when he senses their presence, because they don’t jibe with the approach he would use. Turning a blind eye, however, doesn’t erase his beliefs associated with his awareness of the objectionable elements, and these qualities work their way into the outcome, no matter how much he’d rather not see them materialize. The result, again, is disappointment, even if it dependably (and predictably) mirrors the intents that brought it into being.
The bottom line in this is that we must be careful what we create, and the effort starts with us and the beliefs we hold. If we’re truly honest with ourselves, one would hope we spot the pitfalls before they take shape. Eliminating them up front avoids unpleasant issues later on, an effort that should spare us considerable grief.
Should we choose to ignore this consideration, however, we run the risk of suffering the perils of un-conscious creation. When we create with no regard for the consequences, we must be prepared for what comes with that, the essence of practicing un-conscious creation. This can be especially true with the development of new technologies, where we may be so focused on the outcome that we lose sight of everything that potentially accompanies it. This can be particularly problematic for things like artificial intelligence, where we may purposely intend to abrogate our responsibility for its proper operation after its creation. In that regard, unless we employ “foolproof” beliefs from the outset (which may not be nearly as easy as imagined), we shouldn’t be surprised if circumstances don’t work out as hoped for. Once again, care and caution are the watchwords here, for, no matter what results, the responsibility for its creation rests squarely on our shoulders.
“Ex Machina” is a generally suspenseful thriller about the beauties and dangers of artificial intelligence, with a strong cautionary tale for all of us. Despite some occasional pacing issues, the film is well-written, with distinctive production values, beautiful cinematography and an engaging soundtrack. But what stands out most here are the picture’s excellent performances, with Gleeson, Isaac and Vikander all turning in some of the best work they’ve ever done on screen. Director Alex Garland has distinguished himself in his directorial debut, serving up one of this year’s best releases thus far and one of the finest, most credible science fiction offerings to come along in some time.
We’re all well aware of the notion of being careful what we wish for. In an age where rapidly changing technological advances make the seemingly once impossible wholly plausible with relative ease and speed, it’s particularly incumbent upon us that we bear the foregoing in mind. Should we do anything less, we may well pay a heavy price. Embracing our creative responsibility is thus essential to avoid unpleasant surprises to wind up with the results we seek.
Copyright © 2015, by Brent Marchant. All rights reserved.
Friday, April 17, 2015
‘Desert Dancer’ reveals the undeniable power of creation
“Desert Dancer” (2014 production, 2015 release). Cast: Reece Ritchie, Freida Pinto, Tom Cullen, Marama Corlett, Neet Mohan, Bamshad Abedi-Amin, Makram Khoury, Nazanin Boniadi, Simon Kassianides, Gabriel Senior, Fadoua Lahlou, Inen Nuiga. Director: Richard Raymond. Screenplay: Jon Croker. Story: The life story of Afshin Ghaffarian. Web site. Trailer.
Some forces simply won’t be denied. The power of creation, for example, is so persistently potent and relentlessly determined that it’s nearly impossible to hold it back. It seeks expression, no matter what impediments may stand in its way. That fact becomes all too apparent – particularly to those who would restrict it – in the new fact-based biopic, “Desert Dancer.”
Being artistically inclined in a country run by a regime that discourages – even punishes – certain forms of self-expression can be frustrating at best, dangerous at worst. Coming to terms with such circumstances proved a hard lesson for Iranian-born dancer Afshin Ghaffarian, who, in his youth (Gabriel Senior), had to reconcile his love for his art form with a reality in which this activity was banned by a fundamentalist government that considered it immoral. Concerned about her son’s welfare, Afshin’s mother (Nazanin Boniadi) warned him of the consequences for defiance of this dictate, citing the strong-arm tactics of the Basij, the country’s often-brutal volunteer militia responsible for suppressing rebellious activities and dissident gatherings under orders from the Iranian Revolutionary Guards. But, despite the danger, Afshin had difficulty containing his enthusiasm; clearly he needed a safe outlet to practice his artistry.
Before long, Afshin made his way to the Saba Art Center, a sanctuary for budding creatives of all types run by a kindly, avuncular mentor, Mehdi (Makram Khoury). Within the center’s walls, young artists could be themselves, zealously shepherded under Mehdi’s devoted tutelage and fierce protection. It was here that Afshin’s talents began to blossom. It was also here that he learned about the art and life of his idol, famed Russian ballet dancer Rudolph Nuryev, a virtuoso performer who, like the impressionable neophyte, grappled with political oppression issues of his own under the Soviet system. With the benefit of such inspiration, Afshin vowed to carry on with his art, which he sought to develop while enrolled as a university student in Tehran.
At the time a now-older Afshin (Reece Ritchie) attended college, Iran was undergoing some turbulent internal political changes. With the 2009 Iranian presidential election approaching, many students and social activists took to the streets, protesting the hardline tactics of incumbent Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and throwing their support behind the progressive initiatives of challenger Mir-Hossein Mousavi. Under this aura of renewed hope, reformers began pushing established boundaries in many areas of life, from cultural to political to artistic.
For his part, Afshin decided to form an underground (i.e., illegal) dance company with fellow students Ardi (Tom Cullen), Mona (Marama Corlett) and Mehran (Bamshad Abedi-Amin). But, even with their newfound sense of empowerment, this band of artistic rebels nevertheless grew leery when they were unexpectedly approached by a mysterious stranger, Elaheh (Freida Pinto), at their makeshift clandestine studio. However, they quickly let down their guard when they learned that she was merely seeking an audition. She proceeded to mesmerize her tiny audience and immediately became a member of the troupe.
As the daughter of a former Iranian ballet star (Fadoua Lahlou), Elaheh had been dancing since she was a child (Inen Nuiga). Like her peers, she had to express herself exclusively in private, within the confines of her family home. But, having the benefit of a gifted instructor to teach her – her mother – Elaheh became a prodigy in her own right, and now she was ready to share what she learned with Afshin and company.
Thanks to Elaheh’s coaching, the company’s skills flourished. As a result, though, Afshin grew impatient with “performing” only in private. He wanted to dance before an audience, a notion his colleagues viewed as patently impossible. Nevertheless, Afshin was convinced there had to be a way, a conviction that led him to an innovative solution – conducting a performance in a remote desert location before a select and trusted crowd.
Organizing the event took meticulous planning, yet, even with such prudent care, the troupe still came under scrutiny, primarily from Mehran’s brother, Sattar (Simon Kassianides), a Basij operative. The consequences of such a performance, coupled with Afshin’s ongoing political activism, would cause circumstances to quickly spiral out of control, prompting him to take more drastic measures to protect his art – and his life. The prospect of having to flee his homeland to save himself suddenly became a real possibility.
As this film clearly illustrates, the power to create is a truly potent force, one that isn’t easily stifled, even in the face of severe opposition. This inherent birthright pervades our being and forever seeks expression, no matter what obstacles may block its path. This is especially true for a land like Iran, long famous for its poetic heritage (and, ironically enough, as the originator of one of the world’s first human rights codes, as noted in the film’s opening credits).
Afshin’s love of dance would similarly not be denied, even in the face of others fervently trying to squelch his enthusiasm. Through his many trials and tribulations, he firmly believed in the viability of his art and that its materialization would, in fact, come to fruition in one way or another. And, to that end, he found the means to make it possible.
In true conscious creation form, Afshin held true to the beliefs responsible for manifesting the outcome he envisioned. The results may not have always taken traditional forms, but they faithfully fulfilled the spirit of his intentions. In that regard, he actually elevated the art of dance to new heights, bringing the previously untried into being. By exploring such uncharted probabilities, he broadened artistic horizons both for himself and for those who would follow his lead. But, then, as anyone who practices conscious creation understands, we each have an infinite range of options available to us at any given moment. Fortunately, Afshin realized this and brought it to bear through his craft.
Afshin drew inspiration on this point from Elaheh, who observed that dance can be anything one wants it to be, from a traditional ballet routine to the simple gesture of raising one’s fist in an act of defiance, a sentiment that echoes the infinite probabilities concept. Afshin abided by her wisdom and infused it in his dancing, using it to both express himself and to make a statement. This became most apparent in the political protest aspects of his art, an act of creativity that produced both a thing of beauty and drew attention to an issue in need of remediation.
So, if the power to create is something so cherished, one might legitimately ask, why would anyone manifest conditions that make its unfolding so incredibly difficult, such as those depicted here? Again, as noted above, all avenues of expression are equally valid and capable of materialization, including those under circumstances like those seen in this film. But why these particularly onerous conditions? There could be a variety of reasons.
Perhaps the principals in this story wanted to explore issues related to fighting for one’s creativity. Maybe they wanted to see how precious the gift of artistic license truly is. And, to that end, perhaps they wanted the experience of having to defend its right to existence under dire circumstances. Maybe the satisfaction that would come from succeeding at such an endeavor would yield a whole new appreciation for what is being sought, something inherently unattainable under “easier” conditions. Or maybe the reasons involve entirely different considerations. In any event, the scenario at work here is as viable and valid as any other, and its exploration is worthy of investigation, even if we wouldn’t make the same choices or agree with the underlying purposes of such an undertaking.
Of course, being true to our creative vision, no matter what prevailing circumstances may accompany it, requires the development and utilization of certain personal qualities, all of which help support the beliefs we use for manifesting what we desire. Such efforts need to make use of traits like diligence, commitment, courage and integrity, elements that bolster the creative outcomes being birthed. These are all attributes that Afshin called upon in creating his dance routines. But such characteristics are crucial in yielding any hoped-for materialization, not just the kinds of grand expressions of creativity on display here. We should all bear these notions in mind when we set out to manifest our heart’s desires, no matter what form, scope or nature they might involve.
“Desert Dancer” is a reasonably well-made fact-based biopic. It features well-choreographed dance sequences, beautiful cinematography and capable performances (especially Pinto), though its direction is somewhat pedestrian at times, and its writing is rather heavy-handed on occasion. The picture also has as a strong tendency to play fast and loose with the facts of Ghaffarian’s life story, with dramatic license pushed to its limits, including a largely fictionalized ending (not unlike what happened in another film about Iran, “Argo” (2012)). What’s more, the film could have done a better job of exploring the story’s political backdrop, which is obviously significant but often reduced to vague, simplistic terms, especially in its examination of Iran’s pivotal 2009 presidential election (for a better exploration of these events, see “Rosewater” (2014) instead).
The act of creation is a force that pervades all of reality, one that refuses to be rebuffed, especially when infused with the energy and spirit of its collaborative advocates. Under such circumstances, it becomes almost like a juggernaut, unstoppable in its quest to seek expression and fulfillment. And those who stand in its way had better be prepared for what comes at them. What seems like something that can be easily dismissed or dissipated may prove to be anything but. Just ask Afshin Ghaffarian.
Copyright © 2015, by Brent Marchant. All rights reserved.
Some forces simply won’t be denied. The power of creation, for example, is so persistently potent and relentlessly determined that it’s nearly impossible to hold it back. It seeks expression, no matter what impediments may stand in its way. That fact becomes all too apparent – particularly to those who would restrict it – in the new fact-based biopic, “Desert Dancer.”
Being artistically inclined in a country run by a regime that discourages – even punishes – certain forms of self-expression can be frustrating at best, dangerous at worst. Coming to terms with such circumstances proved a hard lesson for Iranian-born dancer Afshin Ghaffarian, who, in his youth (Gabriel Senior), had to reconcile his love for his art form with a reality in which this activity was banned by a fundamentalist government that considered it immoral. Concerned about her son’s welfare, Afshin’s mother (Nazanin Boniadi) warned him of the consequences for defiance of this dictate, citing the strong-arm tactics of the Basij, the country’s often-brutal volunteer militia responsible for suppressing rebellious activities and dissident gatherings under orders from the Iranian Revolutionary Guards. But, despite the danger, Afshin had difficulty containing his enthusiasm; clearly he needed a safe outlet to practice his artistry.
Before long, Afshin made his way to the Saba Art Center, a sanctuary for budding creatives of all types run by a kindly, avuncular mentor, Mehdi (Makram Khoury). Within the center’s walls, young artists could be themselves, zealously shepherded under Mehdi’s devoted tutelage and fierce protection. It was here that Afshin’s talents began to blossom. It was also here that he learned about the art and life of his idol, famed Russian ballet dancer Rudolph Nuryev, a virtuoso performer who, like the impressionable neophyte, grappled with political oppression issues of his own under the Soviet system. With the benefit of such inspiration, Afshin vowed to carry on with his art, which he sought to develop while enrolled as a university student in Tehran.
At the time a now-older Afshin (Reece Ritchie) attended college, Iran was undergoing some turbulent internal political changes. With the 2009 Iranian presidential election approaching, many students and social activists took to the streets, protesting the hardline tactics of incumbent Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and throwing their support behind the progressive initiatives of challenger Mir-Hossein Mousavi. Under this aura of renewed hope, reformers began pushing established boundaries in many areas of life, from cultural to political to artistic.
For his part, Afshin decided to form an underground (i.e., illegal) dance company with fellow students Ardi (Tom Cullen), Mona (Marama Corlett) and Mehran (Bamshad Abedi-Amin). But, even with their newfound sense of empowerment, this band of artistic rebels nevertheless grew leery when they were unexpectedly approached by a mysterious stranger, Elaheh (Freida Pinto), at their makeshift clandestine studio. However, they quickly let down their guard when they learned that she was merely seeking an audition. She proceeded to mesmerize her tiny audience and immediately became a member of the troupe.
As the daughter of a former Iranian ballet star (Fadoua Lahlou), Elaheh had been dancing since she was a child (Inen Nuiga). Like her peers, she had to express herself exclusively in private, within the confines of her family home. But, having the benefit of a gifted instructor to teach her – her mother – Elaheh became a prodigy in her own right, and now she was ready to share what she learned with Afshin and company.
Thanks to Elaheh’s coaching, the company’s skills flourished. As a result, though, Afshin grew impatient with “performing” only in private. He wanted to dance before an audience, a notion his colleagues viewed as patently impossible. Nevertheless, Afshin was convinced there had to be a way, a conviction that led him to an innovative solution – conducting a performance in a remote desert location before a select and trusted crowd.
Organizing the event took meticulous planning, yet, even with such prudent care, the troupe still came under scrutiny, primarily from Mehran’s brother, Sattar (Simon Kassianides), a Basij operative. The consequences of such a performance, coupled with Afshin’s ongoing political activism, would cause circumstances to quickly spiral out of control, prompting him to take more drastic measures to protect his art – and his life. The prospect of having to flee his homeland to save himself suddenly became a real possibility.
As this film clearly illustrates, the power to create is a truly potent force, one that isn’t easily stifled, even in the face of severe opposition. This inherent birthright pervades our being and forever seeks expression, no matter what obstacles may block its path. This is especially true for a land like Iran, long famous for its poetic heritage (and, ironically enough, as the originator of one of the world’s first human rights codes, as noted in the film’s opening credits).
Afshin’s love of dance would similarly not be denied, even in the face of others fervently trying to squelch his enthusiasm. Through his many trials and tribulations, he firmly believed in the viability of his art and that its materialization would, in fact, come to fruition in one way or another. And, to that end, he found the means to make it possible.
In true conscious creation form, Afshin held true to the beliefs responsible for manifesting the outcome he envisioned. The results may not have always taken traditional forms, but they faithfully fulfilled the spirit of his intentions. In that regard, he actually elevated the art of dance to new heights, bringing the previously untried into being. By exploring such uncharted probabilities, he broadened artistic horizons both for himself and for those who would follow his lead. But, then, as anyone who practices conscious creation understands, we each have an infinite range of options available to us at any given moment. Fortunately, Afshin realized this and brought it to bear through his craft.
Afshin drew inspiration on this point from Elaheh, who observed that dance can be anything one wants it to be, from a traditional ballet routine to the simple gesture of raising one’s fist in an act of defiance, a sentiment that echoes the infinite probabilities concept. Afshin abided by her wisdom and infused it in his dancing, using it to both express himself and to make a statement. This became most apparent in the political protest aspects of his art, an act of creativity that produced both a thing of beauty and drew attention to an issue in need of remediation.
So, if the power to create is something so cherished, one might legitimately ask, why would anyone manifest conditions that make its unfolding so incredibly difficult, such as those depicted here? Again, as noted above, all avenues of expression are equally valid and capable of materialization, including those under circumstances like those seen in this film. But why these particularly onerous conditions? There could be a variety of reasons.
Perhaps the principals in this story wanted to explore issues related to fighting for one’s creativity. Maybe they wanted to see how precious the gift of artistic license truly is. And, to that end, perhaps they wanted the experience of having to defend its right to existence under dire circumstances. Maybe the satisfaction that would come from succeeding at such an endeavor would yield a whole new appreciation for what is being sought, something inherently unattainable under “easier” conditions. Or maybe the reasons involve entirely different considerations. In any event, the scenario at work here is as viable and valid as any other, and its exploration is worthy of investigation, even if we wouldn’t make the same choices or agree with the underlying purposes of such an undertaking.
Of course, being true to our creative vision, no matter what prevailing circumstances may accompany it, requires the development and utilization of certain personal qualities, all of which help support the beliefs we use for manifesting what we desire. Such efforts need to make use of traits like diligence, commitment, courage and integrity, elements that bolster the creative outcomes being birthed. These are all attributes that Afshin called upon in creating his dance routines. But such characteristics are crucial in yielding any hoped-for materialization, not just the kinds of grand expressions of creativity on display here. We should all bear these notions in mind when we set out to manifest our heart’s desires, no matter what form, scope or nature they might involve.
“Desert Dancer” is a reasonably well-made fact-based biopic. It features well-choreographed dance sequences, beautiful cinematography and capable performances (especially Pinto), though its direction is somewhat pedestrian at times, and its writing is rather heavy-handed on occasion. The picture also has as a strong tendency to play fast and loose with the facts of Ghaffarian’s life story, with dramatic license pushed to its limits, including a largely fictionalized ending (not unlike what happened in another film about Iran, “Argo” (2012)). What’s more, the film could have done a better job of exploring the story’s political backdrop, which is obviously significant but often reduced to vague, simplistic terms, especially in its examination of Iran’s pivotal 2009 presidential election (for a better exploration of these events, see “Rosewater” (2014) instead).
The act of creation is a force that pervades all of reality, one that refuses to be rebuffed, especially when infused with the energy and spirit of its collaborative advocates. Under such circumstances, it becomes almost like a juggernaut, unstoppable in its quest to seek expression and fulfillment. And those who stand in its way had better be prepared for what comes at them. What seems like something that can be easily dismissed or dissipated may prove to be anything but. Just ask Afshin Ghaffarian.
Copyright © 2015, by Brent Marchant. All rights reserved.
Tuesday, April 14, 2015
Two New Web Sites
I'm pleased to announce the release of two new web pages dedicated to each of my books! To find out more about Get the Picture?!: Conscious Creation Goes to the Movies, click here. And, to learn more about Consciously Created Cinema: The Movie Lover's Guide to the Law of Attraction, click here.
Cover Designs by Paul L. Clark, Inspirtainment (www.inspirtainment.com)
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