I recently watched a little film called My House In Umbria. It's a film I first saw at the flicks a couple of years ago, and then my Dearly Beloved bought the DVD, which we've both since re-watched a number of times.
The film stars Dame Maggie Smith, dear old Ronnie Barker (in the last film he made before he died), the noted English comedian Timothy Spall, and Italian actor Giancarlo Gianini (who looks very much like an Italian Ian Turpey!). The plot is simple enough: a group of strangers are travelling on a train in Italy, when a bomb in their carriage explodes, killing some and seriously wounding the others. The survivors end up convalescing at the Umbrian country home of Emma Delahunty (Smith), an English ex-pat with a checkered past who has made a living for herself writing romance novels. They include a retired English major (Barker), a young German political activist named Werner, and an American girl who retreats into silence as a result of being traumatised by the explosion. All three are mourning the loss of loved ones in the bombing; while their hostess, who lives alone (with the exception of her manager and groundsman, played by Spall) mourns a life of dashed hopes and ill-fated romances.
Slowly, the strange group begin to re-awaken a sense of purpose and meaning in life, primarily through a project involving the re-creation of an English cottage garden in Delahunty's sprawling, if ill-kept grounds. But their tranquility is threatened on two fronts: Inspector Giotto (Gianini) is determined to catch those responsible for the bombing, and makes frequent calls in which he asks uncomfortable questions; and the American girl's stiff-necked uncle has arrived to take custody of her, thereby breaking the bond of friendship the group has formed.
I won't tell you how these plot threads play themselves out. Needless to say, it's a simple story beautifully told through a combination of stunning cinematography and sympathetic performances. In particular, the scenes filmed around the small Umbrian hill-town near Delahunty's villa, and those shot in and around Sienna, are just breathtaking. Smith is superb as always, Ronnie Barker gives us a performance that reminds us he was a skilled character actor long before he achieved fame as a comedian, Spall is charming and ironic, and Gianini is urbane and graceful.
However, what most strikes the viewer about this film are the themes of grace and redemption that run like dual threads through the plot. All the characters (with the exception of the little girl, whose flaws are a consequence of her trauma) are broken people in one degree or another, burdened by loss, despair, and regret. But they are able to find redemption in the most unlikely of places: in one another's brokenness. The mutual encounter of their bruised and vulnerable humanity causes them to minister to one another; unconsciously at first, and then with a growing sense of warmth and intimacy as their shared sanctuary and desire to re-create the English cottage garden Delahunty longs for enables them to re-form the bonds of their common humanity. And with that humanity comes recognition of a shared need for human contact and engagement, irrespective of how many times that contact has hurt them in the past.
And herein lies their redemption: their capacity to find their way back to hope, to being able to see forward again, not in denial of the past, but in spite of it, even as they carry that past into the future. Their redemption is their capacity to re-affirm themselves, and one another, in the face of everything that negates their affirmation. It is the very weakness and vulnerability of their humanity, as a shared experience, that enables them to become more than the sum of who they are.
My House in Umbria is a modest film, simply made. It won't make anyone's Top Ten list. But it is an eminently worthwhile film to see, both for its own simple beauty, and because of the moving and affirming portrait of vulnerable humanity which it paints.
Talk to you soon,
BB.
Quote for the Day: Laughter is the closest thing to the grace of God. (Karl Barth)
Friday, February 29, 2008
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
What's In A Name?
I know I've been a little silent of late, so, inspired by the recent example of my buddy Caro, I thought I'd browse the blogthings site to see if I could post something a little light-hearted to tide over anyone who might happen to be reading this blog on even a quasi-regular basis.
I came across the "quiz" "What's Your Name's Hidden Meaning?" I thought it sounded sufficiently innocuous to post on this blog. Here's the result:
I must say, the results surprised me a little, so being the analysis junkie I am, I thought we could explore this outcome a little more. Line by line, as it were.
The first five statements of paragraph one demonstrate immediately that whoever compiled this little "secret hidden meaning" gizmo knows jack shite about Yours Truly. In the words of Edmund Blackadder, I'm about as energetic, spirited, and boisterous as an asthmatic ant with a load of heavy shopping. Who are they talking about? Me, the lumpen proletariat extraordinaire - or some git who exists only in the imagination of an adrenalin junkie hopped to the eyeballs on NoDoze and Red Bull? The only sentence in this para that bears any resemblance to moi is that, yes, on occasion I am wont to get a mite tetchy. Aside from that, however, it's like looking in the mirror and seeing not me but Bruce McAvaney (shudder).
For para two, read as per above, especially the drivel about having a ton of energy. I have about as much energy as a solar panel hidden down a mineshaft. Rebel? Cranky, maybe. Cantankerous, possibly. Curmudgeounly (a word employed often by my Dearly Beloved) probably. But rebellious? Benedict Arnold was more rebellious than I am. I do get into trouble - but that's probably a consequence of the manifold defects of my personality, not as a result of any spirit of rebelliousness. And as for the trouble being "fun" - well, it's clear to me that whoever wrote this blogquiz has the same sense of "fun" as the Maquis de Sade or the Spanish Inquisition...
Para three is interesting only because it largely contradicts the preceeding two paragraphs. I don't know anyone who bounces off walls and thinks parachuting off buildings is fun who is also friendly, charming and warm. From memory, Noel Coward got about in an evening gown, a pipe, and a pair of comfy slippers, not a backpack full of energy bars and a sketchy, second-hand map of the amazon jungle. Get along with anyone - who are they kidding? To me, the word "friend" denotes only two things: one, a word in Tarzan's severly limited vocabulary; and, two, the title of the most overrated show in television history. Sorry, three things: as the old saying goes, a friend in need is someone to be avoided. I try not to rock the boat? Um, doesn't that really contradict the stuff about me being a huge rebel? And my "easy going" attitude clears buildings quicker than you could say "Who's that guy in reception who looks like Osama bin Laden?" Flaky? Irresponsible? They've obviously have mistaken these words as similies for indifferent...
Para four was much closer to the truth. Yes, I am wise. Yes, I understand the world better than most people. That's exactly why most people don't like me. Pure, unrestrained jealousy. And, yes, I am very imaginative. I have imaginary friends. I see them all the time. They talk to me...But then they lost the plot. Paranoid? Me? Listen, buddy, it's true: they are out to get me, and everyone does hate me, okay? Just because I'm unpopular doesn't mean I'm paranoid. And, no, that guy in the pub the other night wasn't just ordering two drinks...he was making a secret signal to all his cohorts in the Ancient Grand Order of Woollen Vests and Sock Suspenders that the Great Day of Apotheosis is nigh...
The next para reckons I'm balanced, ordely, and organised...uh-huh, this is the guy they just described as over-imaginative and paranoid, right? The bloke who gets a tad too upset on occassion and usually needs to be tied into his chair he's so hyperactive? I could have told them if they'd only bothered to consult with me that the only reason I remotely resemble order is because I'm so static. Being able to occupy the same space for a geological age may present the illusion that I'm cool, calm, and collected, but once you look past the encrusting lichen you'll realise that motionlessness is simply - motionlessness. Powerful and competent - in the workplace? I'm not even powerful and competent in my wildest dreams! And can someone please explain to me what the hell work is? Stubborn, headstrong, powerful personality - see, I told you: I'm the literal immoveable object.
And finally, we come to the last para that tells me I'm strong and confident and like the best of everything - isn't perfectionist just a synonym for whinging git? - and that I exude more authority than a fully tooled-up battle group bristling with tactical nukes and a nasty hangover. Again, what happened to paranoid? Or is confidence just paranoia that doesn't recognise itself? And what the bejeezers is a "Type A" personality. I don't even know what my blood type is, let alone my personality "type". For all I know, "Type A" personalities could denote anyone who thinks "The A Team" was the pinnacle of 80s television and that mohawks on aging African-American he-men is an appealing look. And even I'm not that sad. Well, not completely...
Final diagnosis: this thing's a crock. But I guess we already knew that. It provided a laugh, and a forum for me to get a few things off my chest. So if you'll just excuse me, I'm off to talk to my imaginative friends about all the people who hate me. In a calm and authoritive manner, while planning my next crazy escapade around the Andes Mountains.
Talk to you soon,
BB.
Quote for the Day: Mediocrites are people who are always at their best. (Somerset Maugham)
I came across the "quiz" "What's Your Name's Hidden Meaning?" I thought it sounded sufficiently innocuous to post on this blog. Here's the result:
| What Brendan Means |
 You are wild, crazy, and a huge rebel. You're always up to something.You have a ton of energy, and most people can't handle you. You're very intense.You definitely are a handful, and you're likely to get in trouble. But your kind of trouble is a lot of fun. You are friendly, charming, and warm. You get along with almost everyone.You work hard not to rock the boat. Your easy going attitude brings people together.At times, you can be a little flaky and irresponsible. But for the important things, you pull it together. You are very intuitive and wise. You understand the world better than most people.You also have a very active imagination. You often get carried away with your thoughts.You are prone to a little paranoia and jealousy. You sometimes go overboard in interpreting signals. You are balanced, orderly, and organized. You like your ducks in a row.You are powerful and competent, especially in the workplace.People can see you as stubborn and headstrong. You definitely have a dominant personality. You are usually the best at everything ... you strive for perfection. You are confident, authoritative, and aggressive. You have the classic "Type A" personality. |
I must say, the results surprised me a little, so being the analysis junkie I am, I thought we could explore this outcome a little more. Line by line, as it were.
The first five statements of paragraph one demonstrate immediately that whoever compiled this little "secret hidden meaning" gizmo knows jack shite about Yours Truly. In the words of Edmund Blackadder, I'm about as energetic, spirited, and boisterous as an asthmatic ant with a load of heavy shopping. Who are they talking about? Me, the lumpen proletariat extraordinaire - or some git who exists only in the imagination of an adrenalin junkie hopped to the eyeballs on NoDoze and Red Bull? The only sentence in this para that bears any resemblance to moi is that, yes, on occasion I am wont to get a mite tetchy. Aside from that, however, it's like looking in the mirror and seeing not me but Bruce McAvaney (shudder).
For para two, read as per above, especially the drivel about having a ton of energy. I have about as much energy as a solar panel hidden down a mineshaft. Rebel? Cranky, maybe. Cantankerous, possibly. Curmudgeounly (a word employed often by my Dearly Beloved) probably. But rebellious? Benedict Arnold was more rebellious than I am. I do get into trouble - but that's probably a consequence of the manifold defects of my personality, not as a result of any spirit of rebelliousness. And as for the trouble being "fun" - well, it's clear to me that whoever wrote this blogquiz has the same sense of "fun" as the Maquis de Sade or the Spanish Inquisition...
Para three is interesting only because it largely contradicts the preceeding two paragraphs. I don't know anyone who bounces off walls and thinks parachuting off buildings is fun who is also friendly, charming and warm. From memory, Noel Coward got about in an evening gown, a pipe, and a pair of comfy slippers, not a backpack full of energy bars and a sketchy, second-hand map of the amazon jungle. Get along with anyone - who are they kidding? To me, the word "friend" denotes only two things: one, a word in Tarzan's severly limited vocabulary; and, two, the title of the most overrated show in television history. Sorry, three things: as the old saying goes, a friend in need is someone to be avoided. I try not to rock the boat? Um, doesn't that really contradict the stuff about me being a huge rebel? And my "easy going" attitude clears buildings quicker than you could say "Who's that guy in reception who looks like Osama bin Laden?" Flaky? Irresponsible? They've obviously have mistaken these words as similies for indifferent...
Para four was much closer to the truth. Yes, I am wise. Yes, I understand the world better than most people. That's exactly why most people don't like me. Pure, unrestrained jealousy. And, yes, I am very imaginative. I have imaginary friends. I see them all the time. They talk to me...But then they lost the plot. Paranoid? Me? Listen, buddy, it's true: they are out to get me, and everyone does hate me, okay? Just because I'm unpopular doesn't mean I'm paranoid. And, no, that guy in the pub the other night wasn't just ordering two drinks...he was making a secret signal to all his cohorts in the Ancient Grand Order of Woollen Vests and Sock Suspenders that the Great Day of Apotheosis is nigh...
The next para reckons I'm balanced, ordely, and organised...uh-huh, this is the guy they just described as over-imaginative and paranoid, right? The bloke who gets a tad too upset on occassion and usually needs to be tied into his chair he's so hyperactive? I could have told them if they'd only bothered to consult with me that the only reason I remotely resemble order is because I'm so static. Being able to occupy the same space for a geological age may present the illusion that I'm cool, calm, and collected, but once you look past the encrusting lichen you'll realise that motionlessness is simply - motionlessness. Powerful and competent - in the workplace? I'm not even powerful and competent in my wildest dreams! And can someone please explain to me what the hell work is? Stubborn, headstrong, powerful personality - see, I told you: I'm the literal immoveable object.
And finally, we come to the last para that tells me I'm strong and confident and like the best of everything - isn't perfectionist just a synonym for whinging git? - and that I exude more authority than a fully tooled-up battle group bristling with tactical nukes and a nasty hangover. Again, what happened to paranoid? Or is confidence just paranoia that doesn't recognise itself? And what the bejeezers is a "Type A" personality. I don't even know what my blood type is, let alone my personality "type". For all I know, "Type A" personalities could denote anyone who thinks "The A Team" was the pinnacle of 80s television and that mohawks on aging African-American he-men is an appealing look. And even I'm not that sad. Well, not completely...
Final diagnosis: this thing's a crock. But I guess we already knew that. It provided a laugh, and a forum for me to get a few things off my chest. So if you'll just excuse me, I'm off to talk to my imaginative friends about all the people who hate me. In a calm and authoritive manner, while planning my next crazy escapade around the Andes Mountains.
Talk to you soon,
BB.
Quote for the Day: Mediocrites are people who are always at their best. (Somerset Maugham)
Friday, February 01, 2008
Holidays Schmolidays!
I know, strictly speaking, this post is by definition a matter of faith, and therefore should be posted on my other blog, but I thought for general amusement purposes, it would be better suited here.
When my Dearly Beloved and I were affirmed as candidates to the ordained ministry of the Uniting Church in 2007, all the current candidates told us we should enjoy the forthcoming Summer as our last "free" Summer, because every Summer from now on would be occupied with placements and, eventually, ministry.
I should have realised it at the time, but these injunctions to enjoy our last "free" Summer were a harbinger that the Universe's sense of humour was about to swing into action at our expense. For this Summer has been anything but "free", and my Dearly Beloved and I have been kept quite busy with matters ministerial.
This state of affairs has arisen because our much-loved local minister has fallen prey to a severe back condition that requires him to spend extended periods in enforced immobilisation. And that's before the necessary surgery occurs, which will entail further rest and recuperation. So, the church council decided that, given two of its congregation are candidates to the ministry (you know who I'm talking about, don't you?), it would be a terrific idea if they were temporarily appointed as ministerial locums.
Now, before I go any further, I have to say that my Dearly Beloved and I are counting ourselves as extremely fortunate that we are members of a congregation blessed, not only with a brilliant leadership group, but any number of gifted and capable people as well, which means that much of the burden that being a ministerial locum might otherwise involve has been taken off our shoulders. So it's not like we'd want you to believe that we were suddenly presented with the task of looking after a congregation all on our own. Still...
There's been enough to be getting on with. I won't go into all the boring details, except to say that this Summer past has been anything but restful! I can hear the Universe laughing its cosmic head off even as I type. And people keep assuring us that this has all been good experience - and they're right - but I can't avoid the sneaking suspicion that I'm owed a long, lazy Summer before such things vanish into the realms of past experience...
Ah, well, c'est la vie! And I have to admit, there have been some profound and thought-provoking moments in all of this, including some interesting personal insights and an apposite reminder about the need for personal humility. Most importantly, it has reminded me of the needs for grace and sensitivity when dealing with others, that everything we do in faith is an act of ministry - and that ministry exists for purposes that have nothing to do with our own desires and ends.
We're not sure how long the present interim arrangements will last; with the support of the church council and the congregation, we're taking this one day at a time. And most of all, we're praying our minister makes a full recovery and is back on deck as soon as the healing process allows.
Talk to you soon,
BB.
One has to accept life on the same terms as the public baths, or crowds, or travel. Things will get thrown at you and things will hit you. Life's no soft affair. (Seneca)
When my Dearly Beloved and I were affirmed as candidates to the ordained ministry of the Uniting Church in 2007, all the current candidates told us we should enjoy the forthcoming Summer as our last "free" Summer, because every Summer from now on would be occupied with placements and, eventually, ministry.
I should have realised it at the time, but these injunctions to enjoy our last "free" Summer were a harbinger that the Universe's sense of humour was about to swing into action at our expense. For this Summer has been anything but "free", and my Dearly Beloved and I have been kept quite busy with matters ministerial.
This state of affairs has arisen because our much-loved local minister has fallen prey to a severe back condition that requires him to spend extended periods in enforced immobilisation. And that's before the necessary surgery occurs, which will entail further rest and recuperation. So, the church council decided that, given two of its congregation are candidates to the ministry (you know who I'm talking about, don't you?), it would be a terrific idea if they were temporarily appointed as ministerial locums.
Now, before I go any further, I have to say that my Dearly Beloved and I are counting ourselves as extremely fortunate that we are members of a congregation blessed, not only with a brilliant leadership group, but any number of gifted and capable people as well, which means that much of the burden that being a ministerial locum might otherwise involve has been taken off our shoulders. So it's not like we'd want you to believe that we were suddenly presented with the task of looking after a congregation all on our own. Still...
There's been enough to be getting on with. I won't go into all the boring details, except to say that this Summer past has been anything but restful! I can hear the Universe laughing its cosmic head off even as I type. And people keep assuring us that this has all been good experience - and they're right - but I can't avoid the sneaking suspicion that I'm owed a long, lazy Summer before such things vanish into the realms of past experience...
Ah, well, c'est la vie! And I have to admit, there have been some profound and thought-provoking moments in all of this, including some interesting personal insights and an apposite reminder about the need for personal humility. Most importantly, it has reminded me of the needs for grace and sensitivity when dealing with others, that everything we do in faith is an act of ministry - and that ministry exists for purposes that have nothing to do with our own desires and ends.
We're not sure how long the present interim arrangements will last; with the support of the church council and the congregation, we're taking this one day at a time. And most of all, we're praying our minister makes a full recovery and is back on deck as soon as the healing process allows.
Talk to you soon,
BB.
One has to accept life on the same terms as the public baths, or crowds, or travel. Things will get thrown at you and things will hit you. Life's no soft affair. (Seneca)
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