Art Out of Balance?

Two events have dovetailed together so nicely that I just need to post about the intersection of their themes. The first happens to be the last true paper I had to write for the year, for my useless Freshman Seminar class "Faust in Literature and Music". The very open topic was to write about musical settings of Goethe's Faust-- any of my choosing. I wrote on Berlioz's "Eight Scenes from Faust" and "The Damnation of Faust" the latter of which flowed out of the former. I discussed the manner in which Berlioz set Goethe's play to music.

Fast forward to today, when I watched the indescribable movie Koyaanisqatsi: Life Out of Balance. It is completely unlike anything I have ever seen. I hesitate to even call it a movie; really it is a series of stunningly beautiful shots of nature and/or civilization set to the music of Philip Glass.

So, today's topic is music as interdisciplinary art. I'm not out to write a review of Koyaanisqatsi, much as I might like, but here's a brief thought: this movie is definitely not for everyone, and I don't know how eager I am to watch it again, but it is a wonderful movie. Paying attention to no dialogue or even action/narrative can be hard, but thinking of it as a visual symphony certainly helps. Also being a fan of minimalism.

Everyone knows about the importance of music in movies. The right music can make or break a movie- try to imagine the Godfather without that heartbreaking theme, or Star Wars sans the opening explosion of John Williams. Its absence makes us uneasy (think of The Birds). But most often the music stays squarely in the background. Never have I seen music partner so fully with film as in Koyaanisqatsi. Well, maybe the first five minutes of Manhattan give it a run for its money, but this movie makes its whole point the partnership of disparate modes of art. Likewise Berlioz's "dramatic legend" The Damnation of Faust blends the wonders of music with the magic of narrative. This is why opera has been called the most complete art form, blending as it does the spoken word, music, dance, and even visual art (in the costumes etc). You don't have to actually like opera to value the intense balance it acheives (well, good opera, anyway).

But mixing music with words seems natural to us; songs are one of our favorite modes of expression. We even have whole stories told to us through song. Less popular is the blending of music with visual art. Unfortunately this really limits the interaction between two art forms that would benefit greatly from increased contact. Koyaanisqatsi is proof that visual art and music can combine to form unique and valuable art. Is there a market for such art, though? I suspect that movies like Koyaanisqatsi (it is the first in a trilogy made over 20 years) will never catch on with the general populace. We have a traditional concept of what movies are so ingrained in us that anything outside the orthodox narrative scares us away. People expect movies to constantly entertain, not serve as a means for meditation on various subjects. I found it pleasant while watching Koyaanisqatsi to let my mind wander a little; not so much that I didn't follow the film, but enough to get lost in the music. It is somewhat akin to actually listening to a Brahms symphony-- the music enraptures me so that I am able to pay attention while thinking any number of other things.

Is there a point to this? Eh, who knows. Interdisciplinary art is pretty darn cool, if you ask me. Just so long as there is never a Kenny G/Thomas Kinkade collaboration.

A Revelation of Sorts

Just a short post to let you all know I am still alive. Finals time is always busy, so I likely won't make substantial posts for awhile, though I have some good ones planned for my return, including a review of the Derek Webb cd Mockingbird and a post on the arrogance of historians.

Today I would just like to state that upon waking this morning I realized I had solved the Star Wars problem. That is to say, why the new trilogy is such a piece of crap. The theories range far and wide on this one, but I think my solution has at least some merit. It isn't the acting, the dialogue, or the direction that make the new movies lackluster, it is the absence of an overawed imagination.

Think about it- the acting in the original movies wasn't exactly Shakespearean (with a few exceptions), and oftentimes the dialogue bordered on the ridiculous. What is it about those movies, so pulpy in many ways, that fires the passion of young boys everywhere? It is the awe and wonder of it all. I'm not talking about spectacle- the new movies have that in spades. But in the new trilogy it all seems so perfunctory it is hard to care. In a sense technology and success hurt the series; wondrous sights and epic battles are expected and not earth shattering. There was an overwhelming sense in the old movies of "Isn't this cool?!!" Recall the scene in A New Hope when Luke and Han fight off the TIE fighters. By today's standards the effects are clunky, but you can still feel the energy pulsing through them, the boyish excitement as they blast the Imperials out of the sky.

The space opera plot sure helped matters too. Instead of the dull political intrigue of the new trilogy, the old movies had the classic good and evil struggle, replete with underdogs, secret identities, and the like. Simple stuff, but good.

I want to wrap this up, so I will conclude by saying that imagination is one of the greatest gifts given to mankind. The first three Star Wars movies had it coming out the wazoo, and what's more, they encouraged others to have the same thirst for adventure and fertile imagination. That is why, 30 years from now, young boys will be discovering them and, despite the dated look, still be saying (along with their fathers) "Isn't that cool?!!"

An admonition and a chameleon

"It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it."--Aristotle

Thank you for the comments, everyone. I enjoy responses and seeing the perspective of others. The occasional compliment doesn't hurt my ego, either. An exhortation against misinterpreting my purpose: it is not my intention to deliberately offend anyone for offense's sake. Rather I write, as previously stated, primarily as an outlet for my ideas, secondarily to challenge the presuppostions we all carry around with us and force people to consider why they believe what they believe. I don't think anyone has taken offense thusfar, but I know it is quite within my capabilities to come across as abrasive and smug. So, get riled up against my ideas, but only in an abstract manner.

My last two posts have tended toward the negative side, so I will break up the criticism with a movie review. I would do this more often, but am afraid of posting them so often that it appears all I do is sit around watching movies. I wish I could review more books, but unfortunately I haven't had time this semester to get involved in books very much- a great travesty.

I wrestled a bit with what movie to review having recently seen two. My choices were Woody Allen's "Zelig" and Kurosawa's "Rashomon". It was quite an epic battle in my mind- I have so much to say about both. In the end I settled on "Zelig", mostly because I don't know if I am up to reviewing "Rashomon" after just one viewing. It is such an astounding movie, so groundbreaking and provocative in its ideas about justice. Maybe at a later date.

Woody Allen is a director who usually gets much less respect than he deserves. Perhaps because he is so prolific (he has averaged around a movie a year since the 70's) people ignore his numerous great contributions to cinema and berate him for his mediocre movies. Many people accuse him of always playing the same character, which to an extent is a justified criticism. Still, his body of great work (Annie Hall, Hannah and Her Sisters, Manhattan, Sleeper, Love and Death, Crimes and Misdemeanors, The Purple Rose of Cairo) certainly merits his inclusion on any list of stellar directors. Allen has a way of punctuating self righteous academia and exposing the underlying discontent of the modern era. Granted, he lacks the philosophical standpoint to resolve this unhappiness, but the problem must procede the solution, and I wouldn't expect a non-Christian to grasp everything anyway.

A brief plot overview, since I assume very few of you have seen Zelig. The movie can best be referred to as a faux documentary (I am hesitant to apply the term "mockumentary" since it is not really in the vein of Christopher Guest films) concerning the life of one Leonard Zelig, a man with the remarkable ability to turn into the people he is around. When in the company of doctors, he speaks like a doctor; when with black people his features change; when around obese people, he even gains a bulge. His doctor caretakers are puzzled till one, Eudora Fletcher, subjects him to rigorous analysis and therapy which seems to cure him. In the process, they begin to love one another. This love is threatened, however, when multiple people come forward bringing various accusations against Leonard, who cannot remember enough from his various personalities to plausibly deny the charges. He disappears, and Dr. Fletcher must search him out. I will say no more but proceed to the review.

I almost take for granted the fact that a Woody Allen film will be beautifully shot, and Zelig is certainly no exception. Set in the 1920's, the "newsreel" is predominantly black and white, though there are occasional "modern" interviews which resemble many documentaries from the 70's. Black and white works very well for Allen- Manhattan, by far his most beautiful film, is entirely without "color". His work is oftentimes dreary anyway, and form follows function quite well. In this case, though, the effect is mainly historical (By Allen's standards Zelig is practically cheery), but he still knows how to pull it off, reproducing masterfully the feel of aged films.

In his film Stardust Memories, Allen answered the charges that he was no longer funny. Zelig was made in the same era, and is more low key in its humor than a lot of his work, which tends to elicit laughter even from the most heartbreaking situations. Yes, there is humor in the movie, and it even incorporates one of his standard topics, masturbation jokes (for the sake of my audience I won't repeat it, but it is one of his better ones. A note: that is one of the few obscene moments in the movie, which on the whole is quite mild for Allen), but most of the time I wasn't laughing out loud. More often I had a wry smile on my face, for the humor comes mainly from the entire situation the movie documents. Absurdity is one of Allen's strong points, but Zelig handles it subtly, not so much through jokes as the entire structure of the movie. If you are looking for a riotous good time, try one of Allen's movies like Sleeper; Zelig is better for a slow burn mentality.

The central idea in Zelig is quite a brilliant one. What if you could, as St. Paul said, "Be all things to all people", but instead of merely assuming cultural mores you actually became one of them? This raises several interesting points.

Using the context of Allen's body of work, I would assert the main point to be man's disillusionment with modern society. Leonard Zelig morphs into different people because at heart he craves acceptance, something he has never experienced in his life. Anti-Semitism and a terrible home life contributed to his alienation, which he tries to alleviate by blending in. In a sense he is an incarnation of every person's desires to belong to community. Ultimately, of course, he discovers that this is an unsatisfying existence, and, not to put it in trite terms, learns to be himself. I suppose this is partly an existential defying of society- damn them, I will live how I will! Allen has no conception of true community (obviously, since he is far from being a Christian), but more than most he constantly deals with his inability to have meaningful relationships with people. Dragged down by sin, he despairs of meaning in life. In the end, Allen is a tragic figure because he sees the ills of humanity but cannot fathom the solution.

The other thought Zelig raised in my mind is one that probably everyone has pondered. Would racism exist if everyone could experience being another race? The movie deals tactfully yet realistically with Leonard's transformations into people of other races, but the issue never really comes up, it simply implies that he gets along fine with blacks, asians, Native Americans, and even Hasidic jews. What would such an everyman experience? Racism still plagues our society in terrible ways, though much of it has gone below the surface. Of course this division stems from our broken nature, which makes me pessimistic about the chances of ever erasing it completely. The greatest myth of modern society (among the plethora) is that sin is a result of ignorance, and that education is the panacea to cure our ills. The only thing to say to such blind foolishness is, and I quote, "Tcha". The heart is above all things sinful. Still, the first step is to examine our own hearts and seek for sympathy. Does Zelig support this? I cannot say for certain.

Overall, Zelig stands at an odd place in the Allen canon. It followed the late 70's, which saw his two best movies, Annie Hall and Manhattan, and came right before his next greatest creative spurt, which includes The Purple Rose of Cairo, Hannah and Her Sisters, and Crimes and Misdemeanors. It is appropriate, then, that the film teeters on the brink of greatness, but doesn't quite go over. In many ways it is too slight a film to be great, but it is still very, very good.

P.S. To those of you who were privilege to be at the reading of Matt McConnell's hourlong poem "George and Seraphine" last night, it proves my point about standing ovations entirely- that was something that so deserved every ounce of my applause, and I was overjoyed to stand and clap till my hands hurt. It means nothing if I do that for something subpar then turn around and do it for him.

I want a standing ovation!!!!!!!!

The history behind the title of this post: During freshman orientation, there was an event called "Playfair" which was a giant icebreaker affair. One of the gags of the event was that at any time someone could yell out "I want a standing ovation" and they would get lifted up on the shoulders of those nearest them while everyone else, forgetting the task at hand, would stand up and clap, cheer, whistle, etc.

This is a nice image for tonight's post. Last week I attended a concert of the Signature Symphony, the closest Tulsa can come to mustering a professional orchestra (trust me, they aren't professional). It was a nice concert, as far as these things go, but what stuck out to me was at the end, hardly anyone stood up and gave a standing ovation- my theory being that it was due to the fact that they were playing Mendelssohn's Italian Symphony, which, while an amazing piece that deserves a post of its own, is not showstoppingly loud or fast. This is the first time in a long time I can recall an audience at a concert I've attended not leaping up and enthusiastically clapping. In fact, it made me downright ecstatic.

I wish that I could attribute this tendency toward overexcitement to a lack of culture on the part of my Oklahoman neighbors, but I see this everywhere I go. Certainly some of it is due to an amount of tone deafness on the audience's part, but not all. Something about our culture fosters an intense need for affirmation which in turn leads to approval of things which don't deserve it. I guess this makes me a bit of a snob. Who am I to judge what deserves extreme adulation and what deserves only mild approval? I think Aristotle would side with me on this one; I've been playing the cello for nearly 12 years (at least 7 of those in a serious symphonic setting) and grew up listening to classical music constantly. Maybe I am not a music theory genius, but I know what sounds good and what doesn't. Clapping of course is only polite, and is acceptable for most situations. But a standing ovation?

I'm remembering the good old days when people rioted at the premier of Rite of Spring or booed loudly at Schoenberg's concerts (side note: I think one of the prerequisites of being considered a father of modern music is violent reaction to your work). Sure, history proved the masses wrong as to their opinions of those works (well, at least Stravinsky- the jury's still out on Schoenberg), but in most scenarios we are talking about performances of established pieces that have standards based on repeated performances. And gosh darn it, at least those people had the gumption to stand up and voice their disapproval!

Alright, this post is starting to come together in ways which are not necessarily coherent. Back to the main point. I think it and odd phenomenon in our culture, which so values the tearing down of others, that in concert halls we support the overzealous approval of art. A theory or two:

Many members of the modern audience are not overly musically educated, so their reaction to a piece is largely fueled by the overwhelming emotions it conveys. Instead of actual merit determining what we approve, we rely on the raw emotional ordeal to help us judge. This is not entirely a bad thing- emotion is, naturally, a powerful thing. But art is based (loosely) around the concept of expressing emotions through some sort of structure that requires skill. That is why no one finds art value in the poetry of teenagers- they have emotion galore, but no technical skill to help them convey said emotions in an artful manner.

The idea that this is what people do at these events. Ignorance is a common enough excuse for ill behavior. People, belonging to the category mentioned above, sense that standing to clap is the appropriate response to a concert no matter the quality.

In special cases their might be a felt obligation for affirmation. Specifically I am thinking of youth orchestra settings, where parents go wild for the sake of their children. What a beautiful thing that is, an expression of unconditional love. But let us not confuse the map for the territory. Cheer for your kid till your blue in the face, but unless their name happens to be Sarah Chang, don't expect me to do the same.

Both of these (first two) ideas are dangerous. The point so much is not the standing ovation itself- cultural norms gradually change, and it may be that this is one that does. Rather the general trend of heaping overwhelming praise on what is in reality inferior art is what really scares me. Are we losing touch with the works of art that define who we are? You see this trend all over. People read Danielle Steele instead of The Iliad, and worse than that, they (implicitly at least) attribute the same value to Steele as to Homer, if not more. People fill garbage bags with air and call it high art- and receive exorbitant grants for it! Subjectivity in culture, the curse of the postmodern world. I smell a post on the excellent man of Aristotle in the near future.

To a certain extent people fear hierarchy. We are trained from our youngest days that everyone is special and equal. Sometimes at concerts I have been chided for not standing when I clap, but to me realizing the hierarchy of the good frees me terrifically. When I stand and clap for a mediocre performance, it cheapens the action when I do it for a brilliant one. Maybe I clap particularly hard but don't stand for a piece that was very good, but not quite mindblowingly spectacular. To some extent it is a matter of personal conscience. This may sound like it goes directly against my belief in the objectivity of aesthetic experience, but it doesn't- each must be held responsible for their own actions.We should seek to discern good art, and affirm it as such. Otherwise, you'll find me firmly in my cushion executing my finest golf clap.

On Homeschooling...

The main goal of this blog is for me to have a place to do semi-regular non academic yet still thoughtful writing. Papers can be fun, but usually not, and I find myself unwilling to devote myself to anything serious beyond letters (which I don't write often enough, admittedly). As a secondary goal, however, I would like to offer food for thought for anyone bored enough to read my entries. Being a natural born critic, I have plenty to say about everything, and my purpose is certainly not to criticize only things I find wrong in secular culture. In fact I would say I am more concerned about reforming Christian culture than waging war against Hollywood, Madison Avenue, etc.

Having said that, tonight's post is about everyone's favorite alternative educational opportunity, homeschooling! Let me preface this discussion by saying that a number of my good friends were homeschooled. My best friend endured it through the 8th grade. It is possible to be homeschooled and function as a normal human being. I just don't really see the point. Here is my argument laid out:

1. Educational benefits. Yes, I said it. I am totally proud of my public school education. It has more than adequately prepared me for college. Granted, I have always been on the advanced side, but if it didn't boost me along, public school didn't stunt my growth either. Sure, you get bad teachers, but that happens even in college (I would say more often), and the good teachers I had far outweighed the bad. My life would not be the same without teachers like Magister and Mrs. Thomas having instructed me. Yes, I am sure that most parents would make passable teachers and have the competency, but that is not everything. The teacher-student relationship is a special one (again, not usually duplicated in college) that has important implications.

2. Social benefits. This should be pretty obvious. In general homeschoolers tend to be isolated, socially awkward, and unable to deal with real relationships. They build up "strong community" with the other homeschoolers but never learn to interact with people who aren't pristine "Christians" [the quote marks are not meant to imply that these people are not Christians, merely to emphasize that they display what the world views as the outward signs of a Christian]. Part of existing in society is dealing with people who are different from you, and college is definitely too late to begin the process. Look, if you don't trust your kids to stand up for what they believe, then that either says something about your kids or you. Know that the struggles they face are akin to the refining fire; if they burn up then they were never Christians, but if they persevere, what a glorious thing! How can we be salt and light by locking ourselves away in a safe Christian bubble?

The other side to this is the dependence it builds up. I am certainly all for close family ties, and I want to weep when my children go off to college, but I don't want to make idols out of my children or vice versa. Spending all day around them for 18 years makes for unhealthy interaction, especially when you are their everything- mother, teacher, lunch lady, etc.

I can't wait to have children, and when I do I want to be intimately involved in their upbringing. Sometimes my main motivation for wanting children is so that I can read to them. I desperately want to share my love of knowledge with them. But I think that by clinging to them through their formative years, I will do them a disservice by leaving them unprepared for facing reality. Maybe I just really loved my public school experience, but it is one I want for my posterity too.

V For... Vitriol?

Let me begin this post by sharing an example of what this blog isn't.

For a few years my family received a magazine called "Plugged In" from a Christian organization that shall remain nameless. This magazine claimed to act as a guide for parents to control what their children take in from modern culture. Fair enough- I certainly don't favor children being exposed to slasher flicks or pornos at age 6. But the tacit purpose driving this magazine was most definitely legalism; in their reviews of popular music they often counted the number of swear words present on an album. Is this Christian stewardship? What sorts of things should we be letting our children absorb?

I propose that the answer lies not in isolating ourselves from culture but engaging it and seeking to enlighten the darkness. If a movie has a thought provoking message that conveys truth or at least seeks it, is it worth the sex scene thrown in? Largely I feel this is a matter of personal conscience. I know the sins I struggle with and do not seek to aggravate them; at the same time I refuse to discount things of worth because they confront me with uncomfortable ideas.

On to today's review, which the astute reader will gather is about the new Wachowski brothers' film "V For Vendetta". I saw this last Sunday, so it has had about a week to soak in. I'd like to discuss the many good points of the film, its minor caveats as cinema, and then engage it on a philosophical level, because I think that its message is provocative but quite flawed.

I say as a preemptory statement that the action in "V For Vendetta" is very good. Any fan of the Matrix can tell you that the Wachowskis have a decent grasp on how to do action. As much as I try to keep from revealing plot points, I don't think it gives too much away to say that, cliche as it may sound, watching stuff blow up to the 1812 Overture is pretty sweet. Excepting a bizarre effect added to V's blades near the end (I should interject to note how glad I am that V fought with knives- huzzah!) the fighting stayed within the realm of good taste.

There, I had my paragraph about the action. But "V For Vendetta" goes well beyond an action movie- reflecting on it, I remembered very little of the stunt work, etc. The plot is tight and somewhat labyrinthine, essential to a movie that is at heart about political intrigue. A note: some of the twists could have been pulled off more subtly- some of my group found themselves guessing the surprises well before they happened. Symbolism abounds in the movie, and for the most part is done well. The writing is servicable, often witty. V's opening speech, one long alliteration using his eponymous letter, waffles between sounding extremely contrived and brilliant. On final analysis, it was memorable enough to be a good thing.

"V For Vendetta's" acting stands out as above par, at least for an action movie. Poor Hugo Weaving, trapped behind the face of Guy Fawkes for the entire movie. Yet he does admirably well, using body language to convey what he cannot with his face. Natalie Portman mangaged to not annoy the heck out of me, which is a step in the right direction for her. The supporting cast is littered with old hands of British acting- John Hurt as the deranged despot and Stephen Fry as a television host give strong performances. But, in my opinion, the standout of the entire movie is Stephen Rea, who plays the chief inspector hot on the trail of V. What a refreshingly hard boiled performance he gives- his weariness and inner turmoil shine through splendidly. Why have I not seen him in more movies?

All in all, taken from a cinematic perspective, I would give "V for Vendetta" somewhere in the ballpark of 7-7.2 out of 10. Better than average, better even than good, though not quite on the threshold of great.

The central moral ambiguity of "V For Vendetta" intrigues me. Many people talk and talk about perspectives on terrorism- one man's terrorist is another's revolutionary. If anything, I think the movie didn't go far enough in exploring this ambiguity; I read an interview with the author of the graphic novel, who had his name removed from the movie credits, and he stressed the shades of gray he attempted to show in his work. "V For Vendetta" sacrifices this because the movie is more intent on ramming its ideology down the audience's throat than exploring moral subtleties. Instead of being about the questionable ethics of freedom fighting, V stands as a testament to liberal smugness and ends up like a watered down 1984 or Farenheit 451. Do we really need another vision of dystopia telling us that fascism is bad? Moreover, the obvious hints toward the current American administration are at best irresponsible. Goodness knows I'm no fan of Bush, but I find no grounds for suggesting that he will suddenly sieze power and ruin personal freedoms. Jumping Jehosaphat, the guy's a Methodist! Also, I think the very idea of a (true) Christian as fascist tyrant is patently ridiculous. How in the world did he rise to power without somebody saying, "Hey, you might want to examine your actions in the light of Christ"? I wouldn't have minded so much if the movie clearly seperated the leader's lust for power from his veneer of faithfulness, but the filmmakers seem content to swamp the baddies with plenty of Christian imagery. This is actually related to what I see as a bit of a plot hole. How does England, for all intents and purposes a completely secularized nation, suddenly fall into the hands of a Christian zealot? Tsk tsk, Wachowskis.

That leads to the other unfortunate realm of preachiness of "V For Vendetta", its relentless pushing of homosexuality as admirable. Here I am wading into dangerous territory, which I fully acknowledge and accept. Let us differentiate between what I believe about homosexuality and where I think the movie goes wrong in its handling of it. I have no problem coming up against gay and lesbian characters in movies. No, I haven't seen Brokeback Mountain, but neither do I run and hide from it (I actually would like to see it so I can make an informed judgment about it). Use your vast mental capabilities to distinguish my views about the practice in general from my views on how it is used in the movie.

Despite its obvious ringing endorsement of homosexuality, I would actually argue that "V For Vendetta", in its goodhearted way, does damage to helping people see gays as humans (something that I readily confess many conservative Christians need to do). The homosexuals in the movie are used mostly symbolically, to stand for all repressed people. But they are largely without actual dimension- they are too busy being martyrs for the cause to be actual characters. The filmmakers obviously want to score a blow against the people they see as tyrranical bigots, but they fail to move beyond the symbolic. In many ways they take the typical detached liberal stance- say you care but make no effort to help. I hate the erroneous comparison of the gay rights movement with the black civil rights movement of the 60's (hmm... I see another post emerging from this one), but in this case they really do remind me of those Northerners who condemned the South but did nothing to really help the plight of blacks.

I guess the thing that strikes me as odd about the agenda of the film is that it so desperately wants the audience to agree with it. A movie made as a protest against thought policing which nonetheless attempts to manipulate its audience into believing a certain absolute viewpoint is devious and contradictory indeed.

Additionally, for a movie which strikes such an anti-bigotry stance, "V for Vendetta" comes across as awfully prejudiced. Certainly I am annoyed that not one sympathetic, sincere Christian was portrayed among the vile hypocrisy of the administration. The movie would have us believe that a nation ruled by Christians would support only mindless loss of freedoms and the systematic slaughter of poor, innocent homosexuals. A somewhat tenuous position.

Overall the movie succeeds philosophically when it sticks to asking questions, but becomes heavy handed when shoving the answers down the audience's throats.

On New Beginnings and Beethoven

Well, after a hiatus of a few years, I have decided to start a new weblog on Blogger. This will not be a personal blog, but one used for various thoughts I have on culture. I will do my best to be insightful as I examine books, movies, etc. from a Christian perspective.

With introductions out of the way, my post tonight is really about Beethoven. Honestly, he is one of the greatest composers the world has ever known. For some reason, however, I just can't get excited about his Second Symphony. I suppose that this is merely an unfair comparison with the majority of his symphonies, which are utterly mindblowing. Think about it: Number 9, the superlative symphony, about which loads has been written but little truly understood. The Eroica (number three) which burst him out of the classical era and essentially marked the beginning of the Romantic movement. The Pastoral (number six), with its image of nature as both serene and dangerous. Number 7, which might be my favorite of all, with its amazing power. Numbers 4 and 8, his two most underrated symphonies; there is a moment in the third movement of number 8 which is pure genius- the littlest thing, a note he brings in the horns on a beat before it sounds like he should- and gives me chills when I hear it. And number 5, despite its perennial overrating, still moves with its power. Even number 1 has its charming moments, and I suppose 2 does also, but... for some reason I just can't get excited about it. I really am giving it a chance. Maybe my appreciation will come with time.