Context
I was looking over the New Items List on my library's catalog when I found Eric LeGrand's Believe: my faith and the tackle that changed my life. LeGrand is paralyzed as the result of an injury he sustained while playing football for Rutgers University. The summary of the book mentions that earlier this year, LeGrand was signed to the roster of the Tampa Bay Buccaneers largely due to the efforts of the former Rutgers and current Tampa Bay coach, Greg Schiano.
Commentary
Up until today I would have told you I didn't like Greg Schiano. Earlier in the season, his first in the NFL, he told his players to knock down Eli Manning when the Giants went into what's called "the victory formation," ten guys huddled around the quarterback as he kneels on the ball in the closing seconds of a game. A very unflattering description of Schiano and the league-wide reaction to this legal, but not very sportsmanlike gesture can be found here. So it was very surprising to me to read about about this same man who many consider to be a classless bully deciding to extend the benefits of a NFL career, albeit briefly, to a guy who was never really going to have one.
There are 32 teams in the NFL. Because I was born in Michigan, I always root for the Lions and against whoever they're playing. However, that leaves 15 other games on most weeks that I want to choose a favorite in. Most of the times I make my choices pretty arbitrarily, focusing on one characteristic, good or bad, of the teams in question: Jay Cutler is whiny, Peyton Manning is brilliant, that sort of thing. So I had written off the Buccaneers because they had this badly behaved coach. It seemed like harmless fun to me, since I have no impact on Greg Schiano's actual life. It was just an opportunity for me to set up a straw man and knock him down, nothing to do with real life.
But what do I do with my newfound knowledge about Schiano, that he is in fact a normal human being who is capable of both great gestures and boneheaded ones? Should I now be rooting for the Buccaneers? Should I alternate weeks believing Schiano is a hero and a villain? Or should I just give up my love of quick and easy judgments, even about things that don't really matter? If I say "I don't know," I've kind of already made up my mind, haven't I?
What did you see today?
Showing posts with label heroes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label heroes. Show all posts
10/26/2012
9/09/2012
I saw a quote about grandparents
Context
I read this at the end of Annie's Mailbox in the Shreveport Times today:
Annie's Snippet for Grandparents Day (credit Alex Haley): Nobody can do for little children what grandparents do. Grandparents sort of sprinkle stardust over the lives of little children.
Commentary
I don't usually celebrate what I consider to be "Hallmark Holidays." Sure, I commemorated Mother's Day and Father's Day when my parents were still alive, but after a while you start to feel like some things were just added to the calendar to push greeting cards. Boss's Day? Really? In fact, my mother was dismayed when we lived in Mexico that there was an official Children's Day celebrated there. She was of the not uncommon opinion that every day is Children's Day. So anyway, I didn't celebrate Grandparents' Day when my grandparents were living and the last surviving one died about 10 years ago. Nonetheless, I agree wholeheartedly with the quote above and I'm glad the Annie's Mailbox people posted it.
When I got to be of teenaged years and older, I learned some negative things about my grandparents. My maternal grandfather, who I never knew, was an alcoholic. Neither of my grandmothers was particularly nice to my mother, her mother-in-law being quite picky and her mother fairly self-involved. My paternal grandfather was a little distant.
None of these things mattered when I was a child. There was nothing I looked forward to more than my week of summer vacation alone with Mimi and Papa, watching TV, playing oh-so-carefully with Mimi's china, and listening raptly while Papa gave out wisdom in his slow and measured way. My other grandmother died when I was quite young, but I still remember snippets of the times I got to spend with her, as well as still having the stuffed tiger she gave me for my third birthday. I think she made it, but that's subject to some dispute. Whatever, she was my Grandma Russell and I can believe what I want! The point is: a child loves her parents, but Alex Haley is right, grandparents are magical.
I have no children of my own, but I saw some of the same things in my mom's life as a grandparent, too. My nephew is autistic, but my mother, in the stubborn way that is common to my family, refused to believe it. He was her Alex and he was just what he was meant to be, no disability at all. Her own great-granddaughter returned the favor when my mother was suffering from Alzheimer's. Actually, I should rephrase: my mother had no problem with her dementia at all; the rest of us did most of the suffering.
Anyway, my favorite two pictures of my mother are from that time. She is sitting on the steps with Shelby, her great-granddaughter. In one of them they are leaning forward, in the other, leaning back. My sister (Shelby's grandmother) came by and asked the nominally more responsible party, my mother, what they were doing. My mom said, "I don't know," and they just kept rocking.
I guess that's what's at the heart of the special relationship between grandparents and grandchildren. It might be different if you're actually raised by your grandparents, but that generation of remove seems to help grandparents accept grandchildren as whole people in their own right, needing to be guided, sure, but never a stand-in for their personal expectations or a reflection of their own failings. Grandchildren, in their turn, think every grandparental eccentricity is just normal, possibly because they don't have to see them often enough to chafe against them.
If you still have grandparents, I hope you enjoy a special relationship with them, and if not, I hope you have some magical memories.
What did you see today?
I read this at the end of Annie's Mailbox in the Shreveport Times today:
Annie's Snippet for Grandparents Day (credit Alex Haley): Nobody can do for little children what grandparents do. Grandparents sort of sprinkle stardust over the lives of little children.
Commentary
I don't usually celebrate what I consider to be "Hallmark Holidays." Sure, I commemorated Mother's Day and Father's Day when my parents were still alive, but after a while you start to feel like some things were just added to the calendar to push greeting cards. Boss's Day? Really? In fact, my mother was dismayed when we lived in Mexico that there was an official Children's Day celebrated there. She was of the not uncommon opinion that every day is Children's Day. So anyway, I didn't celebrate Grandparents' Day when my grandparents were living and the last surviving one died about 10 years ago. Nonetheless, I agree wholeheartedly with the quote above and I'm glad the Annie's Mailbox people posted it.
When I got to be of teenaged years and older, I learned some negative things about my grandparents. My maternal grandfather, who I never knew, was an alcoholic. Neither of my grandmothers was particularly nice to my mother, her mother-in-law being quite picky and her mother fairly self-involved. My paternal grandfather was a little distant.
None of these things mattered when I was a child. There was nothing I looked forward to more than my week of summer vacation alone with Mimi and Papa, watching TV, playing oh-so-carefully with Mimi's china, and listening raptly while Papa gave out wisdom in his slow and measured way. My other grandmother died when I was quite young, but I still remember snippets of the times I got to spend with her, as well as still having the stuffed tiger she gave me for my third birthday. I think she made it, but that's subject to some dispute. Whatever, she was my Grandma Russell and I can believe what I want! The point is: a child loves her parents, but Alex Haley is right, grandparents are magical.
I have no children of my own, but I saw some of the same things in my mom's life as a grandparent, too. My nephew is autistic, but my mother, in the stubborn way that is common to my family, refused to believe it. He was her Alex and he was just what he was meant to be, no disability at all. Her own great-granddaughter returned the favor when my mother was suffering from Alzheimer's. Actually, I should rephrase: my mother had no problem with her dementia at all; the rest of us did most of the suffering.
Anyway, my favorite two pictures of my mother are from that time. She is sitting on the steps with Shelby, her great-granddaughter. In one of them they are leaning forward, in the other, leaning back. My sister (Shelby's grandmother) came by and asked the nominally more responsible party, my mother, what they were doing. My mom said, "I don't know," and they just kept rocking.
I guess that's what's at the heart of the special relationship between grandparents and grandchildren. It might be different if you're actually raised by your grandparents, but that generation of remove seems to help grandparents accept grandchildren as whole people in their own right, needing to be guided, sure, but never a stand-in for their personal expectations or a reflection of their own failings. Grandchildren, in their turn, think every grandparental eccentricity is just normal, possibly because they don't have to see them often enough to chafe against them.
If you still have grandparents, I hope you enjoy a special relationship with them, and if not, I hope you have some magical memories.
What did you see today?
6/25/2010
I saw a review of a book
Context
One of the tasks I perform at my library is looking over the new book lists in our catalog to make sure the items are displaying properly. Our catalog contains reviews of some items and sometimes I read those, even though it's not a necessary component of the task.
This is a quote I read today from the Library Journal review of Lynette Eason's Too Close to Home: "Readers who enjoy romantic suspense authors Suzanne Brockmann and Sandra Brown but who prefer their thrills with a little more conscience and a lot less sex will be thrilled with Eason's new series opener." Eason is classified as a Christian suspense author.
Commentary
I have been neglecting my calling. And as often happens with backsliding, I didn't realize it for a long time. I haven't posted to this blog for two and a half months, not because I haven't been seeing anything (I always see stuff), but because I didn't think I needed to say anything about it.
Here's an example: I was at a funeral visitation last weekend, waiting outside while a rosary was being said for the deceased. Some of the other people outside were making fun of the rosary. Yes, you read that correctly. At a funeral, there were people making fun of the rosary being said for the departed. Anyway, I didn't know anyone else who was around, so I didn't say anything to them about this appalling lack of respect. I figured it wouldn't do any good.
And this morning when I read the review excerpted above I had some thoughts about it, but I didn't plan to blog because I didn't think my opinions would be of interest to anyone. And then I remembered. The call was to open my eyes and open my mouth, not to be interesting or even effective. The words are my responsibility; the response is not. Luckily, repentance is always an option, so onward!
Although I am a Christian, I rarely read what is called Christian literature. I'm not using the conditional term above because I don't think the literature is Christian. It's just that, as with so many other parts of our culture today, it seems certain people have co-opted the term so that nothing outside their realm is considered Christian. In order to satisfy that segment of the population, a book has to uphold conservative values, particularly those pertaining to personal morality. It also has to say at its core that although there may be some ups and downs to life, correct religious belief and practice will eventually give you all the answers you need.
Which brings me to a Christian author I do like: C.S. Lewis. I read his works, you should pardon the expression, religiously. But apparently he's not quite Christian enough. A library colleague I respect in Arkansas, Lesley Knieriem, made this statement about him in response to a request for Christian authors: "Lewis's space trilogy [is] well known, but . . . once again would not be acceptable to the ECPA." The ECPA is the Evangelical Christian Publishers Association. I had to look that up.
I can see what Lesley means. The final book in the series cited has the Jesus stand-in (named Ransom, because Lewis is not a subtle man) utter this line about one of his companions: "He is our sceptic; a very important office." Somehow I can't see a Gilbert Morris protagonist making that kind of statement. Even less can I picture a contemporary piece of Christian children's literature containing a scene like the one near the end of the Chronicles of Narnia series, where a person who has been serving Satan (or Baal, depending on your interpretation) all his life is told that there is a place for him in heaven because his actions were virtuous, even though they were pointed at the wrong God!
In the end, I think they problem is one of intent. It seems to be that the current crop of Christian authors seek to comfort their readers, while Lewis was always in the business of challenging his, even the youngest of them. And when it comes to my religious health, I don't need a lot of massage. I need resistance training.
What did you see today?
One of the tasks I perform at my library is looking over the new book lists in our catalog to make sure the items are displaying properly. Our catalog contains reviews of some items and sometimes I read those, even though it's not a necessary component of the task.
This is a quote I read today from the Library Journal review of Lynette Eason's Too Close to Home: "Readers who enjoy romantic suspense authors Suzanne Brockmann and Sandra Brown but who prefer their thrills with a little more conscience and a lot less sex will be thrilled with Eason's new series opener." Eason is classified as a Christian suspense author.
Commentary
I have been neglecting my calling. And as often happens with backsliding, I didn't realize it for a long time. I haven't posted to this blog for two and a half months, not because I haven't been seeing anything (I always see stuff), but because I didn't think I needed to say anything about it.
Here's an example: I was at a funeral visitation last weekend, waiting outside while a rosary was being said for the deceased. Some of the other people outside were making fun of the rosary. Yes, you read that correctly. At a funeral, there were people making fun of the rosary being said for the departed. Anyway, I didn't know anyone else who was around, so I didn't say anything to them about this appalling lack of respect. I figured it wouldn't do any good.
And this morning when I read the review excerpted above I had some thoughts about it, but I didn't plan to blog because I didn't think my opinions would be of interest to anyone. And then I remembered. The call was to open my eyes and open my mouth, not to be interesting or even effective. The words are my responsibility; the response is not. Luckily, repentance is always an option, so onward!
Although I am a Christian, I rarely read what is called Christian literature. I'm not using the conditional term above because I don't think the literature is Christian. It's just that, as with so many other parts of our culture today, it seems certain people have co-opted the term so that nothing outside their realm is considered Christian. In order to satisfy that segment of the population, a book has to uphold conservative values, particularly those pertaining to personal morality. It also has to say at its core that although there may be some ups and downs to life, correct religious belief and practice will eventually give you all the answers you need.
Which brings me to a Christian author I do like: C.S. Lewis. I read his works, you should pardon the expression, religiously. But apparently he's not quite Christian enough. A library colleague I respect in Arkansas, Lesley Knieriem, made this statement about him in response to a request for Christian authors: "Lewis's space trilogy [is] well known, but . . . once again would not be acceptable to the ECPA." The ECPA is the Evangelical Christian Publishers Association. I had to look that up.
I can see what Lesley means. The final book in the series cited has the Jesus stand-in (named Ransom, because Lewis is not a subtle man) utter this line about one of his companions: "He is our sceptic; a very important office." Somehow I can't see a Gilbert Morris protagonist making that kind of statement. Even less can I picture a contemporary piece of Christian children's literature containing a scene like the one near the end of the Chronicles of Narnia series, where a person who has been serving Satan (or Baal, depending on your interpretation) all his life is told that there is a place for him in heaven because his actions were virtuous, even though they were pointed at the wrong God!
In the end, I think they problem is one of intent. It seems to be that the current crop of Christian authors seek to comfort their readers, while Lewis was always in the business of challenging his, even the youngest of them. And when it comes to my religious health, I don't need a lot of massage. I need resistance training.
What did you see today?
2/02/2009
I saw a cartoon
Context
Carolyn Hax writes a daily advice column for the Washington Post called "Tell Me About It." It's a daily column, but the Shreveport Times only carries it on Sundays. Yesterday, they printed the Friday column, which you can find at this link (may require registration). The column usually has a cartoon, not done by Carolyn herself, that summarizes the problem being described.
Commentary
Yes, despite my stated objections to registering for the Washington Post, I actually broke down and did so for the purpose of bringing you the link posted above. I hope you're happy.
Actually, I'm happy because now that I've found out that Carolyn writes every day, I'll probably be reading her every day. I like advice columns in general and I'm particularly fond of Carolyn's because I think she takes a very straightforward approach to problem-solving.
But I wanted to talk about the cartoon. If you're not able to look at the link, you'll have to take my word for the fact that it seems to depict two African-American characters. Carolyn herself is European-American and I have no idea of the racial identity of the advice-seeker in question. In fact, the characters in the cartoons on Tell Me About It seem to regularly cycle through the physical characteristics of various races and that got me to wondering if that actually helps people of different ethnicities identify with the advice Carolyn gives.
To be fair, it seems to be a general assumption that we make. When deciding issues as varied as who to cast in a TV show and whether to celebrate Black History Month, some consideration is given to the idea that people need to see someone who looks like them in order to identify with them.
But is this really true? I don't think it is for me. I'm more likely to identify with someone who has the same personality characteristics I do than someone who looks like me. Here's an example: Stephen King's book The Stand has twelve main characters (and dozens of minor ones, but I digress), three of whom are female and to my very picky standards quite well-written. I don't identify with any of them. Instead I identify with three of the male characters, one because he's a constant screw-up (Peter is my patron saint), one because of the challenges he has to surmount to achieve his destiny, and one because he's an intellectual.
My Quaker meeting, which has no African-American attenders, invited several black women to come talk to us a couple of years ago about ending racism. What I remember most clearly from the discussion was one lady saying she was dismayed that teachers at her son's school thought he wouldn't be interested in certain activities because he'd be the only black kid in attendance. Since then I've resolved to never make assumptions about a person's preferences based on their physical appearance. There may be some cultural characteristics that many black people share, but I think we go seriously astray if we assert that all people with dark skin identify with all of them. Our choices aren't based on how we look; they're based on who we are.
What did you see today?
Carolyn Hax writes a daily advice column for the Washington Post called "Tell Me About It." It's a daily column, but the Shreveport Times only carries it on Sundays. Yesterday, they printed the Friday column, which you can find at this link (may require registration). The column usually has a cartoon, not done by Carolyn herself, that summarizes the problem being described.
Commentary
Yes, despite my stated objections to registering for the Washington Post, I actually broke down and did so for the purpose of bringing you the link posted above. I hope you're happy.
Actually, I'm happy because now that I've found out that Carolyn writes every day, I'll probably be reading her every day. I like advice columns in general and I'm particularly fond of Carolyn's because I think she takes a very straightforward approach to problem-solving.
But I wanted to talk about the cartoon. If you're not able to look at the link, you'll have to take my word for the fact that it seems to depict two African-American characters. Carolyn herself is European-American and I have no idea of the racial identity of the advice-seeker in question. In fact, the characters in the cartoons on Tell Me About It seem to regularly cycle through the physical characteristics of various races and that got me to wondering if that actually helps people of different ethnicities identify with the advice Carolyn gives.
To be fair, it seems to be a general assumption that we make. When deciding issues as varied as who to cast in a TV show and whether to celebrate Black History Month, some consideration is given to the idea that people need to see someone who looks like them in order to identify with them.
But is this really true? I don't think it is for me. I'm more likely to identify with someone who has the same personality characteristics I do than someone who looks like me. Here's an example: Stephen King's book The Stand has twelve main characters (and dozens of minor ones, but I digress), three of whom are female and to my very picky standards quite well-written. I don't identify with any of them. Instead I identify with three of the male characters, one because he's a constant screw-up (Peter is my patron saint), one because of the challenges he has to surmount to achieve his destiny, and one because he's an intellectual.
My Quaker meeting, which has no African-American attenders, invited several black women to come talk to us a couple of years ago about ending racism. What I remember most clearly from the discussion was one lady saying she was dismayed that teachers at her son's school thought he wouldn't be interested in certain activities because he'd be the only black kid in attendance. Since then I've resolved to never make assumptions about a person's preferences based on their physical appearance. There may be some cultural characteristics that many black people share, but I think we go seriously astray if we assert that all people with dark skin identify with all of them. Our choices aren't based on how we look; they're based on who we are.
What did you see today?
3/06/2008
I saw an editorial about Brett Favre
Context
Brett Favre, the starting quarterback for the Green Bay Packers for over 15 years, retired on Tuesday. Mike Lopresti wrote an editorial column on this event on Wednesday, but I only got around to reading it this morning.
Commentary
It must be hard to write a summing up column on Brett Favre's career. I think Lopresti did a good job, but it seems like a path fraught with possible missteps. I mean, you want to give appropriate tribute, but there's some things you just can't say.
1) You can't say Favre was the best quarterback in the NFL. At least, I don't think you can because there are guys like Peyton Manning who are both more technically proficient and strategize better.
2) You could say he started 275 consecutive games, but that seems like damning with faint praise. In the NFL, starting that many games takes some determination, sure, but it also takes a measure of good old-fashioned luck.
3) On the other hand, you can't say he was the luckiest quarterback in the NFL. The man had some bad things happen to him during his career. His father died. He fought an addiction to painkillers. His wife was diagnosed with breast cancer (she beat it, but still!).
4) He holds a bunch of passing records, but those are somewhat related to his longevity, so they might not be the appropriate legacy either.
5) Even with all those consecutive starts, you can't really label him as consistent. As Lopresti points out, Favre last career pass was intercepted by the New York Giants on their way to the Super Bowl. In 275 starts, it was not exactly his first interception. Or his first one that lost the game for his team.
Now, you may think I'm ragging on Brett. Far from it. I was seriously considering wearing a black armband to work on Wednesday because I was that broken up by the news of his retirement, and I'm a Detroit Lions fan! It's just that his career kind of defies description in traditional terms.
So I'm going to take a non-traditional approach: Brett Favre was the best Brett Favre to ever play in the NFL. There has never been another quarterback like him and probably never will be. The combination of "yay, yay, yay," and "omigod, omigod, omigod" in every game he played. The passes he threw that should have never been caught (but were). The passes he should have never thrown (but did). The goofy "I can't believe they pay me money to play this game" grin. And with all that, yes, the probably unbeatable number of consecutive starts. The off-the-field challenges. The whole Brett Favre experience that many of us feel like we lived through with him.
In the final analysis, isn't that the best tribute to be worthy of? He took the strengths and weaknesses God gave him and crafted an unforgettably unique career out of them. That's something we can all aspire to. Maybe for even longer than 275 consecutive Sundays.
What did you see today?
Brett Favre, the starting quarterback for the Green Bay Packers for over 15 years, retired on Tuesday. Mike Lopresti wrote an editorial column on this event on Wednesday, but I only got around to reading it this morning.
Commentary
It must be hard to write a summing up column on Brett Favre's career. I think Lopresti did a good job, but it seems like a path fraught with possible missteps. I mean, you want to give appropriate tribute, but there's some things you just can't say.
1) You can't say Favre was the best quarterback in the NFL. At least, I don't think you can because there are guys like Peyton Manning who are both more technically proficient and strategize better.
2) You could say he started 275 consecutive games, but that seems like damning with faint praise. In the NFL, starting that many games takes some determination, sure, but it also takes a measure of good old-fashioned luck.
3) On the other hand, you can't say he was the luckiest quarterback in the NFL. The man had some bad things happen to him during his career. His father died. He fought an addiction to painkillers. His wife was diagnosed with breast cancer (she beat it, but still!).
4) He holds a bunch of passing records, but those are somewhat related to his longevity, so they might not be the appropriate legacy either.
5) Even with all those consecutive starts, you can't really label him as consistent. As Lopresti points out, Favre last career pass was intercepted by the New York Giants on their way to the Super Bowl. In 275 starts, it was not exactly his first interception. Or his first one that lost the game for his team.
Now, you may think I'm ragging on Brett. Far from it. I was seriously considering wearing a black armband to work on Wednesday because I was that broken up by the news of his retirement, and I'm a Detroit Lions fan! It's just that his career kind of defies description in traditional terms.
So I'm going to take a non-traditional approach: Brett Favre was the best Brett Favre to ever play in the NFL. There has never been another quarterback like him and probably never will be. The combination of "yay, yay, yay," and "omigod, omigod, omigod" in every game he played. The passes he threw that should have never been caught (but were). The passes he should have never thrown (but did). The goofy "I can't believe they pay me money to play this game" grin. And with all that, yes, the probably unbeatable number of consecutive starts. The off-the-field challenges. The whole Brett Favre experience that many of us feel like we lived through with him.
In the final analysis, isn't that the best tribute to be worthy of? He took the strengths and weaknesses God gave him and crafted an unforgettably unique career out of them. That's something we can all aspire to. Maybe for even longer than 275 consecutive Sundays.
What did you see today?
5/29/2006
I saw a movie hero
Context
I saw X-Men 3: The Last Stand yesterday and Mission Impossible 3 today. The first X-men movie is among my all-time favorites, and I think Mission Impossible gets better each episode. Spoilers for both movies abound in the commentary below, so if you haven’t seen either of them and you’re interested in them, you might want to give this entry a bye.
Commentary
I didn’t care much for the latest X-men movie. It wasn’t a total wash, but I had a lot of problems with it. On the other hand, I loved Mission Impossible 3. I think some of my reactions to both movies hinge on what I think of as the “hat theory of heroism and villainy.” The ideas in this theory are not new, but I think the hat colors might be.
Anyway, I think of movies as having two types of villains, black hat and navy blue hat. Black hat villains are just plain evil. They have no redeeming qualities; you know exactly where they’re coming from; they’re bad people and they do bad things. Navy blue hat villains don’t necessarily look like villains at first blush. They sometimes talk a good game, or they have some lofty principle in mind, but after a while you realize that hat is actually pretty black after all. I tend to prefer navy blue villains, although I can admire the acting craft behind a good black one.
The X-Men series of movies has a pretty good navy blue hat villain in Magneto. You can almost believe those crocodile tears he sheds over having to hurt people in pursuit of his noble cause. But in the end, he’s just rotten. That principle remained in place in the The Last Stand, and I liked that. Mission Impossible 3 had an outstanding black hat villain and a somewhat unconvincing navy blue one. Oh well, nothing’s perfect.
Heroes also have two potential hat colors, white and dingy. Your white hat hero believes in something and fights for whatever that thing is without compromise. In fact, he’s pretty anal about it. Your dingy hat hero is usually on the right side of the movie conflict and ends up doing good things, but not because he has any particular lofty ideal in mind. He spends the majority of the time looking out for himself, and if pressed, a small circle of friends.
I think a lot of the best movies have one of each type of hero. For example, in the original Star Wars trilogy, Luke Skywalker has the white hat, and Han Solo (who really did shoot first, no matter how much George Lucas tries to change “history”) has the dingy hat. In the original Battlestar Galactica series, Apollo wears the white hat, while Starbuck wears the dingy. If you’re around my age, I think you can tell a lot about yourself by which of those characters you prefer. I’m a white hat lover myself.
X-Men 3 started off with a white hat and a dingy one, then killed off the white hat in the first few minutes of the film. And no, it wasn’t Professor Xavier. So the film pretty much lost me early. Mission Impossible 3 was much more straightforward: one hero, very white hat, good triumphs over evil in the end.
If it seems odd that I prefer my villains somewhat shaded and my heroes straightforward, perhaps I can muddy the waters even further by saying that I like my villains to be realistic and my heroes to be true. Realistically, I believe (and I think I have plenty of evidence on my side) that people don’t think of themselves as villainous. They put on that navy blue hat and say, “I did what was necessary for the greater good.” “You can’t make an omelet without breaking some eggs.” Or my personal favorite, “the ends justify the means.” Not to put too big a burden on my entertainment, but I appreciate seeing this kind of villainy because I think it helps me recognize it better in real life.
On the other hand, I don’t want heroes to reflect what I see every day. I want them to show me there’s something transcendent to strive for. In Christian terms, reality tells me that this world is mired in sin. The ultimate truth, however, is that good always triumphs over evil, and never needs to compromise in order to do so.
What did you see today?
I saw X-Men 3: The Last Stand yesterday and Mission Impossible 3 today. The first X-men movie is among my all-time favorites, and I think Mission Impossible gets better each episode. Spoilers for both movies abound in the commentary below, so if you haven’t seen either of them and you’re interested in them, you might want to give this entry a bye.
Commentary
I didn’t care much for the latest X-men movie. It wasn’t a total wash, but I had a lot of problems with it. On the other hand, I loved Mission Impossible 3. I think some of my reactions to both movies hinge on what I think of as the “hat theory of heroism and villainy.” The ideas in this theory are not new, but I think the hat colors might be.
Anyway, I think of movies as having two types of villains, black hat and navy blue hat. Black hat villains are just plain evil. They have no redeeming qualities; you know exactly where they’re coming from; they’re bad people and they do bad things. Navy blue hat villains don’t necessarily look like villains at first blush. They sometimes talk a good game, or they have some lofty principle in mind, but after a while you realize that hat is actually pretty black after all. I tend to prefer navy blue villains, although I can admire the acting craft behind a good black one.
The X-Men series of movies has a pretty good navy blue hat villain in Magneto. You can almost believe those crocodile tears he sheds over having to hurt people in pursuit of his noble cause. But in the end, he’s just rotten. That principle remained in place in the The Last Stand, and I liked that. Mission Impossible 3 had an outstanding black hat villain and a somewhat unconvincing navy blue one. Oh well, nothing’s perfect.
Heroes also have two potential hat colors, white and dingy. Your white hat hero believes in something and fights for whatever that thing is without compromise. In fact, he’s pretty anal about it. Your dingy hat hero is usually on the right side of the movie conflict and ends up doing good things, but not because he has any particular lofty ideal in mind. He spends the majority of the time looking out for himself, and if pressed, a small circle of friends.
I think a lot of the best movies have one of each type of hero. For example, in the original Star Wars trilogy, Luke Skywalker has the white hat, and Han Solo (who really did shoot first, no matter how much George Lucas tries to change “history”) has the dingy hat. In the original Battlestar Galactica series, Apollo wears the white hat, while Starbuck wears the dingy. If you’re around my age, I think you can tell a lot about yourself by which of those characters you prefer. I’m a white hat lover myself.
X-Men 3 started off with a white hat and a dingy one, then killed off the white hat in the first few minutes of the film. And no, it wasn’t Professor Xavier. So the film pretty much lost me early. Mission Impossible 3 was much more straightforward: one hero, very white hat, good triumphs over evil in the end.
If it seems odd that I prefer my villains somewhat shaded and my heroes straightforward, perhaps I can muddy the waters even further by saying that I like my villains to be realistic and my heroes to be true. Realistically, I believe (and I think I have plenty of evidence on my side) that people don’t think of themselves as villainous. They put on that navy blue hat and say, “I did what was necessary for the greater good.” “You can’t make an omelet without breaking some eggs.” Or my personal favorite, “the ends justify the means.” Not to put too big a burden on my entertainment, but I appreciate seeing this kind of villainy because I think it helps me recognize it better in real life.
On the other hand, I don’t want heroes to reflect what I see every day. I want them to show me there’s something transcendent to strive for. In Christian terms, reality tells me that this world is mired in sin. The ultimate truth, however, is that good always triumphs over evil, and never needs to compromise in order to do so.
What did you see today?
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