My brother and I have a little inside joke about movies and coffee. It goes like this...
If there's a movie that has a rated and an unrated version, the rated is like decaffeinated coffee, in that it has less than potential, less to it. An unrated movie has extra stuff in it, making it better. When I think about it, I realize I've been living a rated life as a Christian whereas so many immensely faithful people in the Bible didn't care who was looking nor how they'd react- they lived an unrated style with an unrated love for God. They made people's jaws dropped. They infuriated the religious (rated) elite. So what's wrong with me? Routines can often times bring me to become rated (*yawn*) when I want to do so much more.
I've come to realize that, in this day and age, words with specific meanings have become loose terms that people have forgotten the original meanings for. In example, "unrated" brings to people's minds horrific horror movies with even more guts and blood, plenty more swearing, and this junk and that crap. For me, it should mean more substance.
I've noticed this about unrated movies, there are two kinds- the kind that has extra content that would've been too graphic for theaters (if it were released in theaters), and the kind with extra stuff that makes the story itself (and maybe even the characters) much stronger.
A good example of this is Kingdom of Heaven. Yeah, it's a politically correct film about the Crusades that show Christians in a bad light, but skipping over that detail, the Director's Cut has extra scenes that provide extra information about the main hero as well as provides support for someone who was a secondary character in the theatrical version, making her integral to the story alongside the hero, not just a living prop.
So? Living unrated helps people see that life can be about so much more than a few flimsy words in a day, helping someone or cursing someone, eat, sleep, do nothing, wait for the day you die then that's that. If that were true, Christianity wouldn't be needed because life would have no leniency in its existence to allow the thought of a Creative Creator with ironic wit have any part of us (no matter how lowly we make ourselves to be, no matter how much of a blessing He tells us we are).
So I don't feel like living the first kind of unrated, the world has enough problems with people doing things like that. I want to live like the other unrated- be a living example of extra content, let God be my Director, who doesn't make deleted scenes, but keeps moving the scenes forward.
I want to be like King David, who danced in the temple (and I imagine the Pharisees were like today's churches, seeing dancing as the 8th Deadly Sin) for the glory of GOD, not man. I want to be like Jesus, who flatly told off the cheats at the temple (after whipping tables and knocking them over) to never do it again then give a very forward reason without beating around the bush. I want to be like the Apostle Peter, who told off the status quo when they questioned his antics (thought him drunk and he told them it wasn't even the right time of the day to be drunk!) and tell religiously suppressing government that they can't stop him from telling the truth about how he sees life with the Christ.
Those are just the better known examples of people pulling off unrated lives that shocked everyone because they broke the social rules, gave living a new meaning, set an example for others to consider, rather than go through a bland living (think Halloweentown's version of the mortal life).
How do you want to live your life? Bring on the unratings, and get ready for the special fatures.
Showing posts with label spiritual insight. Show all posts
Showing posts with label spiritual insight. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Thursday, March 1, 2012
The testimony of yours truly
Before I post anymore posts (and I have many in mind), I do believe it's more credible to know who the speaker is than to simply take the words of the speaker to heart (so many dangers can happen that way).
So, onward I go to explain who I am and how I came to believe what I believe.
I was born in in the county seat of Muskingum County, Ohio- Zanesville, a rather large place, but not quite big enough to be considered a major city (it doesn't have any major skyscrapers, just plenty of landmass). I was born to two different kinds of people-the religiously devout and the spiritual skeptic-and had a lot of pain growing up, mainly through my father (who turned me off from swearing, so if you met me and I hate cussing, it's not solely from my beliefs, it was from my father). My mother tried raising my brother and me in church, though it felt more like a religious obligation than out of goodwill or out of the heart. In other words, my brother felt like we were being forced into church. Personally, I wanted a way to get away from the pain.
At 11 years old, I found that way through my mom's boyfriend (Mom and Dad divorced in the late 80's, when I was just a toddler) who told me about being a Christian and asked me if I had ever been "saved". Funny thing is, even at that age, when no one had told me about the process, I knew deep inside how it worked, I hadn't heard about the concept of sin, yet maybe the pain had something to do with my already knowing something about it. So, instead of getting saved in a church, like most of the world would expect, I was saved in my mom's boyfriend's apartment in New Philadelphia, Ohio. Saved...
Or so I thought.
There were other concepts I hadn't heard of or would know for a while that I needed to know about- including false faith (psychosomasis, you could say), religiousity, being Pharisaic, etc.
For a full ten years, things would seem to happen that, logically were impossible- including times and incidents where I just knew-knew-that I shouldn't have lived through. At least three of such an event happening, yet I did live anyway. And other bizarre events that should have been impossible if life were as boring and expendable as I've heard in public school (yep, I was raised in a battle for the mind between creationism and evolution) had left me to believe.
Even though I hadn't read the Bible as much as it felt required to read (you know, at least some daily), I did know bits and pieces and when certain people would challenge me about what the Bible said (okay, it was just one person who had a degree that called him "Reverend") about homosexuality, I told him, "You're the reverend, you tell me." Really, I was onyl familiar with the story of Sodom and Gomorrah and their widely-known acts of perversion, not solely homosexuality, but also gang rape, pedophilia, etc. Yet, from the things that I did read, I decided to take a hint from King Solomon and do a prayer I had never heard anyone else do at that point- pray for wisdom over riches.
And I would get it in college, through the help of a great friend, Gerhard Esterhuizen. The leader of Marshall University CRU, he explained the many finer points of Christianity without sounding like a know-it-all theologian, he brought the Truth of the Scripture to us in a down-to-earth style that was easy to comprehend without watering it down (like I'd seen so many televangelists do, which disgusted me), including one MAJOR thing I was guilty of-legalism. I'd judged people in my mind for the slightest of things, even if they did those things by accident.
I hated and judged gays.
I hated science.
I hated. This. That. These. Those.
I was the epitome of what people hate Christians for without ever realizing it.
That year in college, I gradually changed. Then, at 21, when I moved to live in Huntington, WV (ever since the first time I saw it back in my Upward Bound days in high school, I knew I wanted to live there irregardless of how), it happened.
I picked up a copy of Christian Apologetics author Lee Strobel's new book, The Case for the Real Jesus, without knowing he was a Christian, just knowing a vague thing about him yet not remembering if he was a Christian or not. The moment before I opened the flap to read it, I knew and felt something- my mind was opening.
When I say felt, I don't mean in a metaphorical way, I mean literal- feeling something like a temperature shift in a specific area of my brain.
The moment before I opened that book, I thought this thought:
There will be one of four things that will happen when I'm done reading: I will either be an atheist, an agnostic (again, I was one for half a week, most depressing time in my life, and I was chronically depressed as a teen), or a Jew (thinking of believing in God, but not Jesus), or be a stronger Christian.
I would find out later that I had only "thought" I was a Christian. I had finally learned of false faith, and it was when I read an article in my Apologetics Bible titled "How can I really know?" that it finally clicked what I should do- stop being a fake and become a real deal for people.
I already had edgy Christian shirts, a decent selection of Christian books, knew (some) Scripture, always praying before meals, etc. Thing was, I realized I was being religious, which was never prescribed by Jesus to do. I was going by the rules more than anything.
I knew that it was, by far, time to change. So, right after reading that article, while keeping something in my that Gerhard had said ("when I gave my heart to God and Jesus, I didn't pray, I didn't say amen, I simply confessed and accepted him in my heart") and remembered how much of a strong, faithful Christian he was, I didn't put the "madatory" amen at the end of what I thought- I simply mentally confessed and accepted, and did feel something else- that burden Christians talk about? It felt like my body had a few pounds lifted, something like a spiritual Slim-Fast, essentially put.
Since then, I've come to learn much, oh so very much. Especially that there is an area where all those degrading stereotypes about Christians are true- at least in certain churches and areas. In fact, I'm living in such an area- the "Belt Buckle" of the Bible Belt, Oklahoma. And it's been a test of my faith to see such a terrible thing that some churches simply do not know how to operate spiritually (at all) while others are down-to-earth, Scriptually sound (and never watering it down), and get ripped left and right by the world. One such church I've been to operates as a coffee shop in OKC, called Valley Brook Vineyard Community Church, or Joe's Addiction Coffee Shop.
So, if anyone tries to offend me about being a Christian and get shocked that I can offend back, I just say this, "The world's been trying to offend me all my life- it's my turn now."
So, onward I go to explain who I am and how I came to believe what I believe.
I was born in in the county seat of Muskingum County, Ohio- Zanesville, a rather large place, but not quite big enough to be considered a major city (it doesn't have any major skyscrapers, just plenty of landmass). I was born to two different kinds of people-the religiously devout and the spiritual skeptic-and had a lot of pain growing up, mainly through my father (who turned me off from swearing, so if you met me and I hate cussing, it's not solely from my beliefs, it was from my father). My mother tried raising my brother and me in church, though it felt more like a religious obligation than out of goodwill or out of the heart. In other words, my brother felt like we were being forced into church. Personally, I wanted a way to get away from the pain.
At 11 years old, I found that way through my mom's boyfriend (Mom and Dad divorced in the late 80's, when I was just a toddler) who told me about being a Christian and asked me if I had ever been "saved". Funny thing is, even at that age, when no one had told me about the process, I knew deep inside how it worked, I hadn't heard about the concept of sin, yet maybe the pain had something to do with my already knowing something about it. So, instead of getting saved in a church, like most of the world would expect, I was saved in my mom's boyfriend's apartment in New Philadelphia, Ohio. Saved...
Or so I thought.
There were other concepts I hadn't heard of or would know for a while that I needed to know about- including false faith (psychosomasis, you could say), religiousity, being Pharisaic, etc.
For a full ten years, things would seem to happen that, logically were impossible- including times and incidents where I just knew-knew-that I shouldn't have lived through. At least three of such an event happening, yet I did live anyway. And other bizarre events that should have been impossible if life were as boring and expendable as I've heard in public school (yep, I was raised in a battle for the mind between creationism and evolution) had left me to believe.
Even though I hadn't read the Bible as much as it felt required to read (you know, at least some daily), I did know bits and pieces and when certain people would challenge me about what the Bible said (okay, it was just one person who had a degree that called him "Reverend") about homosexuality, I told him, "You're the reverend, you tell me." Really, I was onyl familiar with the story of Sodom and Gomorrah and their widely-known acts of perversion, not solely homosexuality, but also gang rape, pedophilia, etc. Yet, from the things that I did read, I decided to take a hint from King Solomon and do a prayer I had never heard anyone else do at that point- pray for wisdom over riches.
And I would get it in college, through the help of a great friend, Gerhard Esterhuizen. The leader of Marshall University CRU, he explained the many finer points of Christianity without sounding like a know-it-all theologian, he brought the Truth of the Scripture to us in a down-to-earth style that was easy to comprehend without watering it down (like I'd seen so many televangelists do, which disgusted me), including one MAJOR thing I was guilty of-legalism. I'd judged people in my mind for the slightest of things, even if they did those things by accident.
I hated and judged gays.
I hated science.
I hated. This. That. These. Those.
I was the epitome of what people hate Christians for without ever realizing it.
That year in college, I gradually changed. Then, at 21, when I moved to live in Huntington, WV (ever since the first time I saw it back in my Upward Bound days in high school, I knew I wanted to live there irregardless of how), it happened.
I picked up a copy of Christian Apologetics author Lee Strobel's new book, The Case for the Real Jesus, without knowing he was a Christian, just knowing a vague thing about him yet not remembering if he was a Christian or not. The moment before I opened the flap to read it, I knew and felt something- my mind was opening.
When I say felt, I don't mean in a metaphorical way, I mean literal- feeling something like a temperature shift in a specific area of my brain.
The moment before I opened that book, I thought this thought:
There will be one of four things that will happen when I'm done reading: I will either be an atheist, an agnostic (again, I was one for half a week, most depressing time in my life, and I was chronically depressed as a teen), or a Jew (thinking of believing in God, but not Jesus), or be a stronger Christian.
I would find out later that I had only "thought" I was a Christian. I had finally learned of false faith, and it was when I read an article in my Apologetics Bible titled "How can I really know?" that it finally clicked what I should do- stop being a fake and become a real deal for people.
I already had edgy Christian shirts, a decent selection of Christian books, knew (some) Scripture, always praying before meals, etc. Thing was, I realized I was being religious, which was never prescribed by Jesus to do. I was going by the rules more than anything.
I knew that it was, by far, time to change. So, right after reading that article, while keeping something in my that Gerhard had said ("when I gave my heart to God and Jesus, I didn't pray, I didn't say amen, I simply confessed and accepted him in my heart") and remembered how much of a strong, faithful Christian he was, I didn't put the "madatory" amen at the end of what I thought- I simply mentally confessed and accepted, and did feel something else- that burden Christians talk about? It felt like my body had a few pounds lifted, something like a spiritual Slim-Fast, essentially put.
Since then, I've come to learn much, oh so very much. Especially that there is an area where all those degrading stereotypes about Christians are true- at least in certain churches and areas. In fact, I'm living in such an area- the "Belt Buckle" of the Bible Belt, Oklahoma. And it's been a test of my faith to see such a terrible thing that some churches simply do not know how to operate spiritually (at all) while others are down-to-earth, Scriptually sound (and never watering it down), and get ripped left and right by the world. One such church I've been to operates as a coffee shop in OKC, called Valley Brook Vineyard Community Church, or Joe's Addiction Coffee Shop.
So, if anyone tries to offend me about being a Christian and get shocked that I can offend back, I just say this, "The world's been trying to offend me all my life- it's my turn now."
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
A new thought on horror
Quick word test, what do you think of when you read this oen word: horror?
Something like torture? Demons inflicting torment upon people? Serial killer doing mass murders? Something ritualistic and satanic? There are many things that one word has the potential to get us to think, btu these days, it seems to indicate cheesy ways bring in the money, show off new cinematic techniques of stripping flesh off, using weapons to kill people in some weird and disturbing ways.
It's sad what horror has become: a trivial laughable shadow of what it had once been.
When I was watching American Horror Story, I realized one interesting reason I enjoyed it- it was a throwback to old-fashion horror- not all the way obvious, but much of it in your mind. A lot of the horror is literally in your head. Kinda makes you think I'm calling you crazy, doesn't it? Well, True Blood tried to hard to get "mature" audiences to get scared... and get off. It turned me off. Despite all the rave reviews, it barely held my attention through the first season. Second season, since it dealt with cults (and one thing I like to study is cultic mindsets and mentalities) got my interest better, but all the sex talk, over-the-top swearing, and useless horror... it just couldn't keep me reeled in, so I was struggling to the last episode. Then the third season. Okay, okay, I only watched halfway through. It ended up having too much sex (felt formulaic), way too much swearing (who was coming up with the show? College frat boys trying to best each other's mouths?), and very little true horror.
AHS doesn't rely on the totally obvious. Yes, there's a naked man in the first episode, who's doing something with himself, but you don't see it. It's implied, plus he's crying. Grown "men" these days would be confused at why he's crying, after all, he has a smokin'-hot maid (literally in his eyes, she's old and ugly to everyone else) that he just about had sex with, so why's he crying? When you realize the multi-layered context (the cheating that occured beforehand, the family psychology, his problems with lusting, his desire to desire his wife, and so many other issues happening at once), you may come to realize what all really is happening. And that's just one element in this deep, thought-provoking horror show. After a couple of episodes, people suddenly thought it was ruined in its taste. Why? The start of the episode "Piggy, Piggy" starts with one of THE most controversial topics in modern America- school shootings. Columbine, for one. VA Tech, for another. And, very recently, a school in Cleveland, OH. It's tragic. Immensely. I have no kids yet, but Columbine happened when I was in the 5th grade, and it truly shocked us all how far the bullied would go. Do others in, then theirselves.
The start of the episode starts peacefully in a school library-
wait, I should start in the last few minutes of the previous episode, when a group of kids, during Halloween, start messing with Tate and his girlfriend, who's his psychiatrist's daughter, Violet. The kids really have no itnerest in Violet, but they want to torture Tate, who thinks they have some really good makeup. Then they realize he doesn't remember.
Remember what? Start of next episode, silence until a couple shots are heard, worrying the small group in the library, the sounds get closer and closer, the doors get blocked and everyone hides. The blocking's useless. Tate comes in, wearing makeup to make his face look like a skull, finds a student, doesn't say a thing, aims his shotgun and blasts away. You don't see it, but the body twitching and a sharp BANG says it enough for your mind to work the details. Everyone gets it. He never says a word in the process, which makes it even creepier. Effective horror.
Why include something so devastatingly tragic in a well-rated show? Well, for one, it is called American Horror Story, but for another, it's working our fears, the things that truly shake us, down to our bones and psyche. Its subtleties and layers truly give those who really pay attention massive chills. It also reminds me of Christian suspense author Travis Thrasher, known for bizarre stories like 40, Admission, The Solitary Tales, and Isolation, among others. In an interview, he was asked what he loved tow rite about, his response was very different from what I'm used to- he wants to explore our fears. Even in his early, love-based stories, he dealt with the theme of fear, even if as a subplot, he still wrote about it. And he does have a LOT of stories.
Essentially put, I've gotten fed up with how modern-day "horror" works and am glad for movies like Don't Be Afraid of the Dark and shows like American Horror Story, which rely on throwback methods and subtleties.
I'll admit, I even love the Paranormal Activity movies because of how subtle the demonology is in them. It has a much more realistic feel to them, showing a family that is as normal and American as can be, yet something's happening to them, demonic in nature.
Still horror, but another angle of it, and still effective.
I'm working on a lot of book ideas, most of them are Christian horror, and I want to write in the effective style, not rely on the cruddy formulas that Hollywood, anymore, goes with, which seems to predictable to even have a thrill factor, let give your spine chills like it did in the 70's and 80's (as far as I'm concerned, the 80's was the last decade of intelligent filmmaking before everyone wanted to grow up and lost their common sense along the way). Why write stories? Not just because I want to, but because I want to explore the harder questions (why do Christians expect people to go with the rules yet break them on their own? What really is real? What's the nature of demons and satanism? What drives our fears into existence? How does perception work? Why does the Church get so arrogant about "knowing" things when the Bible does state there are mysteries only God can know? What was the origin of the Pentagram before it became a Wiccan symbol? And on and on) and the best way I've found to do it is by storytelling. Granted, not all my stories are horror (there's a bit of sci-fi and historical mixed in), but why couldn't a Christian ask the real tough, stickler questions that shock us, or, as I've heard it put about the Bible, scare the HELL out of us? Because traditional Christian shouldn't ask the questions lest be rebellious?
Good thing I'm no traditional Christian, isn't it?
Something like torture? Demons inflicting torment upon people? Serial killer doing mass murders? Something ritualistic and satanic? There are many things that one word has the potential to get us to think, btu these days, it seems to indicate cheesy ways bring in the money, show off new cinematic techniques of stripping flesh off, using weapons to kill people in some weird and disturbing ways.
It's sad what horror has become: a trivial laughable shadow of what it had once been.
When I was watching American Horror Story, I realized one interesting reason I enjoyed it- it was a throwback to old-fashion horror- not all the way obvious, but much of it in your mind. A lot of the horror is literally in your head. Kinda makes you think I'm calling you crazy, doesn't it? Well, True Blood tried to hard to get "mature" audiences to get scared... and get off. It turned me off. Despite all the rave reviews, it barely held my attention through the first season. Second season, since it dealt with cults (and one thing I like to study is cultic mindsets and mentalities) got my interest better, but all the sex talk, over-the-top swearing, and useless horror... it just couldn't keep me reeled in, so I was struggling to the last episode. Then the third season. Okay, okay, I only watched halfway through. It ended up having too much sex (felt formulaic), way too much swearing (who was coming up with the show? College frat boys trying to best each other's mouths?), and very little true horror.
AHS doesn't rely on the totally obvious. Yes, there's a naked man in the first episode, who's doing something with himself, but you don't see it. It's implied, plus he's crying. Grown "men" these days would be confused at why he's crying, after all, he has a smokin'-hot maid (literally in his eyes, she's old and ugly to everyone else) that he just about had sex with, so why's he crying? When you realize the multi-layered context (the cheating that occured beforehand, the family psychology, his problems with lusting, his desire to desire his wife, and so many other issues happening at once), you may come to realize what all really is happening. And that's just one element in this deep, thought-provoking horror show. After a couple of episodes, people suddenly thought it was ruined in its taste. Why? The start of the episode "Piggy, Piggy" starts with one of THE most controversial topics in modern America- school shootings. Columbine, for one. VA Tech, for another. And, very recently, a school in Cleveland, OH. It's tragic. Immensely. I have no kids yet, but Columbine happened when I was in the 5th grade, and it truly shocked us all how far the bullied would go. Do others in, then theirselves.
The start of the episode starts peacefully in a school library-
wait, I should start in the last few minutes of the previous episode, when a group of kids, during Halloween, start messing with Tate and his girlfriend, who's his psychiatrist's daughter, Violet. The kids really have no itnerest in Violet, but they want to torture Tate, who thinks they have some really good makeup. Then they realize he doesn't remember.
Remember what? Start of next episode, silence until a couple shots are heard, worrying the small group in the library, the sounds get closer and closer, the doors get blocked and everyone hides. The blocking's useless. Tate comes in, wearing makeup to make his face look like a skull, finds a student, doesn't say a thing, aims his shotgun and blasts away. You don't see it, but the body twitching and a sharp BANG says it enough for your mind to work the details. Everyone gets it. He never says a word in the process, which makes it even creepier. Effective horror.
Why include something so devastatingly tragic in a well-rated show? Well, for one, it is called American Horror Story, but for another, it's working our fears, the things that truly shake us, down to our bones and psyche. Its subtleties and layers truly give those who really pay attention massive chills. It also reminds me of Christian suspense author Travis Thrasher, known for bizarre stories like 40, Admission, The Solitary Tales, and Isolation, among others. In an interview, he was asked what he loved tow rite about, his response was very different from what I'm used to- he wants to explore our fears. Even in his early, love-based stories, he dealt with the theme of fear, even if as a subplot, he still wrote about it. And he does have a LOT of stories.
Essentially put, I've gotten fed up with how modern-day "horror" works and am glad for movies like Don't Be Afraid of the Dark and shows like American Horror Story, which rely on throwback methods and subtleties.
I'll admit, I even love the Paranormal Activity movies because of how subtle the demonology is in them. It has a much more realistic feel to them, showing a family that is as normal and American as can be, yet something's happening to them, demonic in nature.
Still horror, but another angle of it, and still effective.
I'm working on a lot of book ideas, most of them are Christian horror, and I want to write in the effective style, not rely on the cruddy formulas that Hollywood, anymore, goes with, which seems to predictable to even have a thrill factor, let give your spine chills like it did in the 70's and 80's (as far as I'm concerned, the 80's was the last decade of intelligent filmmaking before everyone wanted to grow up and lost their common sense along the way). Why write stories? Not just because I want to, but because I want to explore the harder questions (why do Christians expect people to go with the rules yet break them on their own? What really is real? What's the nature of demons and satanism? What drives our fears into existence? How does perception work? Why does the Church get so arrogant about "knowing" things when the Bible does state there are mysteries only God can know? What was the origin of the Pentagram before it became a Wiccan symbol? And on and on) and the best way I've found to do it is by storytelling. Granted, not all my stories are horror (there's a bit of sci-fi and historical mixed in), but why couldn't a Christian ask the real tough, stickler questions that shock us, or, as I've heard it put about the Bible, scare the HELL out of us? Because traditional Christian shouldn't ask the questions lest be rebellious?
Good thing I'm no traditional Christian, isn't it?
Friday, February 24, 2012
Piranha, a spiritual review
You know that typical thing people say about movie remakes? That they're normally terrible? I tend to agree, whatwith the intelligence of original classics being dumbed down for my generation (in which illiteracy's rampant, let alone near lack of common sense). So, for this, I'll admit I haven't seen the original Piranha. And, for the most part, I wish I hadn't seen the remake. So why did I see it? My stepdad saw it, without his glasses, saw a review saying it was better than Jaws, and he saw (and loved) the original, so he figured it'd be nice.
What a waste of $3.27 at the local rental store.
Yet, I won't focus on the graphic sexual content, nor the drug use, nor the majority of the story. What I will focus on is relevant to the elements that seem spiritual, even if in a subtle way.
First off, part of it does seem pretty typical- a young, teenage guy wanting to join a huge party (think American Mardi Gras on steroid overdose), especially since he's been hired to be a cameraman. A cameraman for something, I suppose for copyright reasons, can't be called Girls Gone Wild, yet it is essentially that in every way. Just one problem for the guy, his mother, who's the local sheriff, expects him to babysit his younger siblings (neither of whom are even pre-teens yet). So, being the typical rebellious teenager, he and his siblings find a way to go around their mother's system so he can join the party and get paid.
However, the director of this shot is... how can I put it lightly or politely? Well, I don't think there is a way, so I'll just say it. He's Mr. Prideful-Hotshot.
He wants things done his way, with no leniency. He expects the cameraman to work, but also enjoy... as well as the enjoyment has no sense of decency at all.
Rather sad, but that's how he is. In fact, when the cameraman's two siblings get stuck on an island without a way to get back inland, and they realize there are thousands of piranha waiting for them to enter, they scream for help, incessantly, until any help will arrive. What they least expect is their own brother to notice them while filming a shot involving a topless lady in a paraflyer, sees them, and is shocked. The director, who could care less if they the President's kids, doesn't care who they are, just yells at his cameraman for "ruining" his shot... even after the "object" of the shot gets chewed in half.
And that's just on that side of the lake. On the other, the sheriff and her one-man-crew are trying to get the rowdy pack of anti-authoritative partiers to abandon the beach. Before they even listen to any reason why they should, they basically give the "screw-you" treatment and continue to party, until one of them gets nipped at, then eaten, leading (very quickly) to mass chaos. Chaos, mind you, that involves the sheriff trying to help as many people as she can on her boat (which leads me to see her as a decent human being trying to look out for the well-being of others, no matter how they live their lives) while piranha are enjoying the mass buffet. Then again, there are those who don't want her help, they want their own way to get away.
One man demands and yells at a topless woman (who's crying out anyway) to "GET ME OUT OF THIS WATER!" She's unable to before he meets his demise, but not from being eaten, but his getting smashed by a reckless boat.
Another guy, on a jet ski, is trying to get out, screaming at people to get out of the way, not letting them have time to swim out of the way before he chops people apart with the ski propellers. Then his engine gets stuck. He's so focused on self-preservation and selfishness, he doesn't hear the woman screaming, the woman whose hair's stuck in the propeller, all tangled up.
*Yank* Hair's tugged.
*Yank* Hair's tugged again, "AH!"
One or two more yanks, he kills her- her hair, along with all the skin on her head, ripped off.
Yes, it's bloody graphic, with people not caring about the help offered to get them out of danger. Help offered by people willing to throw away comfort and safety to go out into the danger theirselves to save others.
Oh, that guy who yanked the woman's flesh off? His jet ski's engine goes bad, leaving him stranded, and a mass of people climb onto the jet ski until can't hold anymore people, leading the boat to tip over, leaving no one to safety.
The only other safe spot that turns deadly is a platform the ends up having too many people on top of it. The sheriff recognizes the eventual hazard, knowing she can't save them in time. And when the wires are snapped apart, one whips a girl in half, who was in isolated safety, only to slide in perfectly clean-cut half.
The sheriff seems to symbolize those willing to put their neck out on the line, knowing the risks that come with the job, but will not give up on what they know they must do.
The director (who's other crew member blatantly says "We're making a porno, not a drama!") is the epitome of selfishness, not caring who's in danger as long as he gets his shots, not even caring that he uses extreme swearing around a couple little kids (maybe he's one of those people who think "They'll learn cuss words eventually, right?" Such apathy has already caused a major downfall in America, so why not in a movie?), and his worst show of selfishness is when he dragged out of the water after being half-eaten by the piranha only to notice... a beloved part of him gone.
The total ruin of the movie- a graphic shot of his part, severed, floating in the water, then swallowed by a piranha, the immediately belched up and left alone. Seriously? An immense waste of production money.
So, overall, despite the sheriff who's looking out for her family (no matter how rebellious they are, and she does rescue them from the flesh-eating fish) and the selfish director (they're the essence of the spirituality in this film, the conflicting nature of humanity as well as spirituality), this film is not worth seeing.
What a waste of $3.27 at the local rental store.
Yet, I won't focus on the graphic sexual content, nor the drug use, nor the majority of the story. What I will focus on is relevant to the elements that seem spiritual, even if in a subtle way.
First off, part of it does seem pretty typical- a young, teenage guy wanting to join a huge party (think American Mardi Gras on steroid overdose), especially since he's been hired to be a cameraman. A cameraman for something, I suppose for copyright reasons, can't be called Girls Gone Wild, yet it is essentially that in every way. Just one problem for the guy, his mother, who's the local sheriff, expects him to babysit his younger siblings (neither of whom are even pre-teens yet). So, being the typical rebellious teenager, he and his siblings find a way to go around their mother's system so he can join the party and get paid.
However, the director of this shot is... how can I put it lightly or politely? Well, I don't think there is a way, so I'll just say it. He's Mr. Prideful-Hotshot.
He wants things done his way, with no leniency. He expects the cameraman to work, but also enjoy... as well as the enjoyment has no sense of decency at all.
Rather sad, but that's how he is. In fact, when the cameraman's two siblings get stuck on an island without a way to get back inland, and they realize there are thousands of piranha waiting for them to enter, they scream for help, incessantly, until any help will arrive. What they least expect is their own brother to notice them while filming a shot involving a topless lady in a paraflyer, sees them, and is shocked. The director, who could care less if they the President's kids, doesn't care who they are, just yells at his cameraman for "ruining" his shot... even after the "object" of the shot gets chewed in half.
And that's just on that side of the lake. On the other, the sheriff and her one-man-crew are trying to get the rowdy pack of anti-authoritative partiers to abandon the beach. Before they even listen to any reason why they should, they basically give the "screw-you" treatment and continue to party, until one of them gets nipped at, then eaten, leading (very quickly) to mass chaos. Chaos, mind you, that involves the sheriff trying to help as many people as she can on her boat (which leads me to see her as a decent human being trying to look out for the well-being of others, no matter how they live their lives) while piranha are enjoying the mass buffet. Then again, there are those who don't want her help, they want their own way to get away.
One man demands and yells at a topless woman (who's crying out anyway) to "GET ME OUT OF THIS WATER!" She's unable to before he meets his demise, but not from being eaten, but his getting smashed by a reckless boat.
Another guy, on a jet ski, is trying to get out, screaming at people to get out of the way, not letting them have time to swim out of the way before he chops people apart with the ski propellers. Then his engine gets stuck. He's so focused on self-preservation and selfishness, he doesn't hear the woman screaming, the woman whose hair's stuck in the propeller, all tangled up.
*Yank* Hair's tugged.
*Yank* Hair's tugged again, "AH!"
One or two more yanks, he kills her- her hair, along with all the skin on her head, ripped off.
Yes, it's bloody graphic, with people not caring about the help offered to get them out of danger. Help offered by people willing to throw away comfort and safety to go out into the danger theirselves to save others.
Oh, that guy who yanked the woman's flesh off? His jet ski's engine goes bad, leaving him stranded, and a mass of people climb onto the jet ski until can't hold anymore people, leading the boat to tip over, leaving no one to safety.
The only other safe spot that turns deadly is a platform the ends up having too many people on top of it. The sheriff recognizes the eventual hazard, knowing she can't save them in time. And when the wires are snapped apart, one whips a girl in half, who was in isolated safety, only to slide in perfectly clean-cut half.
The sheriff seems to symbolize those willing to put their neck out on the line, knowing the risks that come with the job, but will not give up on what they know they must do.
The director (who's other crew member blatantly says "We're making a porno, not a drama!") is the epitome of selfishness, not caring who's in danger as long as he gets his shots, not even caring that he uses extreme swearing around a couple little kids (maybe he's one of those people who think "They'll learn cuss words eventually, right?" Such apathy has already caused a major downfall in America, so why not in a movie?), and his worst show of selfishness is when he dragged out of the water after being half-eaten by the piranha only to notice... a beloved part of him gone.
The total ruin of the movie- a graphic shot of his part, severed, floating in the water, then swallowed by a piranha, the immediately belched up and left alone. Seriously? An immense waste of production money.
So, overall, despite the sheriff who's looking out for her family (no matter how rebellious they are, and she does rescue them from the flesh-eating fish) and the selfish director (they're the essence of the spirituality in this film, the conflicting nature of humanity as well as spirituality), this film is not worth seeing.
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