Run Lola Run, and all the pretty words...

Run Lola Run

bizarre German film, defying norms with eccentric audio visual devices that I struggle to cement into plausible motifs.
Fate. Destiny. Purpose. I appreciate those notions only in the sense one would appreciate dragons and the nuances of the Force: voyages of high fantasy.
Reality diminishes films with its sincerity and realism. But like anything, the better you get it at the more you enjoy it. It's a beautiful place to dwell.
Escapism is a trait I don't seek in film very often nowadays, I have video games for that. Explore reality well and you'll have me hooked. It's too beautiful.
That being said, some facets glimmer more brightly in the light of such devices, but it's the real that shines in amongst the scatterings of narrative. I am too enchanted with my current state of naturalism to own notions of destiny. I am not special enough to find it so engrossing. No one is.
But they are oh so comforting, it is difficult to escape them in current circles without appearing to be the despairing cynic. The motif is ridiculous but only because it is too nice. And it's not nice if it's not real.


We studied language today, treated with the typography of Stephen Fry's pontifications on the subject. It served to reinforce a sentiment I struggle to succinctly express my gratitude for:
Words are beautiful, and English beautiful for that reason, despite it's bastard nature, its irreverent conventions and utter disrespect for norms boundaries. There is such utility in its paint brushes; spectrums of colour, tone, style and light. The opportunities it provides to erode our inferences and synchronize our experiences are limitless. The complexity of other sentience becomes realized! What a special privilege to be afforded, to have such capacity to empathize, and to ultimately understand.

But words need understanding before appreciation, as with all things. But they lack the impact of other mediums, the instant transformation of music, the teleportation that is a painted masterpiece. I wish I could supplement my expressions accordingly. It might make me more accessible.

That's enough for now. It's weird ramblings too, but that's okay. The meanings might be harder to decipher but they are more complete in their burrows, and it takes me far less effort to leave them there.

I need to write a book.

Stephen Fry and Christopher Hitchens discussion on Blasphemy

I was fortunate enough the other day to stumble upon the audio of a joint interview of Stephen Fry and Christopher Hitchens regarding religious tolerance, reason, freedom of speech and of things pertaining. What followed was a wonderfully enlightening journey into two of the most brilliant minds. The audio can be found here on youtube:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uT-CMwffSt4

As stated it is from the Guardian Hay Festival in 2005, so it is a little dated, but for me much of what they said remained relevant and insightful.

Many of my peers tend to have a short-sighted view on the characters of Fry, and more particularly, Hitchens, due to their religious persuasions. I know from experience that the word ‘atheist’, when worn as a proud label can do much to create certain presumptions in others. And the fault isn’t entirely theirs, as the label of atheist has been touted by some incredibly distasteful camps. But to examine the source of such labeling, and the agenda with which these gentlemen adopt it is most fascinating, because it is precise and deliberate.

The source of their ire for religion, more so Hitchens then Fry, stems from a deep and very real criticism of religions’ irksome faculties. The frank way with which they discuss their disdain for many of its practitioners’ actions reveal that there fight has little to do with God, and more to do with those who claim to follow him; a distinction that is too often forgotten. For in this framing, I would find that I strongly agree with them, as would many of my religious peers if they were to understand it in such a light.

However, where my criticism tends to depart itself from the likes of Hitchens’ is found in my familiar connection with the religious moderate, and I think Fry is in a place not too dissimilar. The moderates, among which I would count most of my religious friends, accommodate reality much more readily, to the point where distinctions exist more in the mind than in the applicable sense. This tends to create quite a healthy space for harmony and pacifism, bases upon which our more fragile and precious, if somewhat less complete, relationships may rest.

But pacifism does us a disservice in the face of dogmatic extremism. The adamant and convicted aggression of Hitchens is necessary in such cases, and it serves to protect values in our society that even those who brand themselves his adversaries cherish and uphold. Much is at stake when it comes to dealing with the dredges of the dogmatic, which are far more common then we realize and compromise still many facets of society, often there nourishing roots found in the placid moderate. Things like the oppression of women, anti-intellectualism, thought control, bullying. So many more need to rally in opposition to these things, instead of clouding the waters with their victimhood.

Removed from the cracked lens, I review the works of these gentlemen and I stand in awe of the heroes they are and were. They embody in the deepest sense values of greatness, nobility and reason and the more material I devour of theirs the more complete the picture becomes. I deeply regret that I failed to see Hitchens before he passed. But his ideas are immortal, and his cause has many champions. He leaves in his wake many flags to take up. A lion and a gentleman to the end, many didn’t like him, but he had far greater things to worry about then being liked.