CGI Magic

This Christmas we got my son some new video editting software, and lately he's been experiementing with its green-screen technology. Here's a short movie he made in the Indian Jones tradition that's pretty impressive. Little would you know that this "Temple of Doom" was actually just a green bedsheet taped up on our basement wall. One day I want to blog about whether or not CGI has helped or hindered the art of movie-making (Lord of the Rings: helped; Star Wars I-III: hindered woe-fully), but for now, just enjoy:

The (Lego) Man in Black

When I was in university I joined the fencing club for a semester. Fencing was an absolute blast; I've heard it described as "chess at 100 miles per hour', a description my own experience would bear out. I often think that whenever life settles down again I might try to get back into it .

But I remember my fencing instructor once raving about the fencing scene from The Princess Bride. He claimed it was the greatest fencing sequence in all of movie-dom. I'm not sure how to evaluate this claim, but fine fencing footage or not, it truly is a classic: the "I'm only waiting around to kill you," the civilized discussion of "Benniti's defense," the "I'm not left handed" revelation. Brilliant. One of my all time favorite scenes.

Anyways, this is all just prolegomena for today's feature at terra incognita: another stop-motion lego movie from my son (see other installments here and here). The other day he called me to his studio (i.e. his bedroom) for a sneak peak at his latest project. He'd created a lego model of the ruin atop the cliffs of insanity and was preparing to shoot a reenactment of the classic scene. As a huge fan of both the movie and this particular lego-director, I waited with bated breath for the release, which I am now proud to present.

Now, before we begin: Anybody want a peanut? As you wish.

Darth Maul Meets Indiana Jones

One of the biggest faith issues in the church of my childhood was not the predestination-vs-freewill debate, nor pre- mid- post-trib. rapture speculations, nor even the "can a Christian lose his salvation?" question.

It was whether or not Christians could watch Star Wars.

There were two pretty distinct castes in my Sunday school: those with parents who banned the movies from the minds of their children because they suspected that Satan's face lurked behind the mysterious mask of Darth Vader; and those with parents (like mine) who saw it all as harmless imaginative fun and allowed their children to personally witness Luke channel the Force against the powers of darkness. These fortunate few were viewed with mingled awe and admiration by the uninitiated.

I'm only mildly exaggerating. I can still remember a very calm, reasoned sermon in our church one Sunday morning where the preacher laid it all out for us: Yoda is really the Buddha, the Force is based on Eastern mysticism/pantheism, and the "Dark side" is just the yin-yang principle in disguise. And this was light-years before Episode One would reveal that Anakin Skywalker was born of a virgin...

Of course, that's not all. I remember bringing a copy of The Two Towers with me to Bible camp and being asked not to read it there because it "dabbles in the occult and paganism. " As a teacher, I once had some Christian parents request that their child be excused from reading Lord of the Flies because of the way it posed hard questions about the source of human depravity. And I'm sure you could make your own list of ways you've seen Christians try to stay true to their convictions by holding culture at arms length.

For my part, I've tried to follow the example of my parents, and encourage in our children the attitudes and discernment necessary to engage culture with Christ-like courage and wisdom, not fear and suspicion. This is not an easier path: it means being deeply involved in my kids' lives, having engaged and honest conversations about difficult topics, and being willing to take some risks.

But I'm thinking about this today because, as I mentioned elsewhere, my 10-year-old son's list of current hobbies includes stop-motion animation with his Lego sets. And, as you might have guessed, one of his favorite themes (when his dad's not talking him into Shakespeare) is Star Wars. When I watch his imagination run free and wild with this visual storytelling medium, I often wonder: what would the well-meaning, culture-banning Christians of my youth say if they could see us now?

Mostly for your viewing pleasure, but also to stimulate dialogue on what it might mean for Christians to view the culture around them with the discerning eyes of Christ, I offer this sample of his work:

Give me your hands if we be friends

If it weren't so cliched and over-done, Midsummer Night's Dream would be my favorite Shakespearean play by far. As it is, it still makes it to my top five. I can verify from experience it's one of the few works of the Bard that will really get high school kids laughing together at the right times, and I have an untested theory that your house plants will grow thicker and fuller if you just read some of Titania or Oberon's best lines over them five minutes a day. I once came across a Freudian reading of the play that drew all sorts of evocative parallels between it and the myth of the minotaur, and I've never read it the same way since.

My wife and I saw a Shakespeare in the Park production of it in Barrie Ontario this summer. When our kids asked about it, I gave them a former-English-teacher's synopsis of the plot. They were so intrigued, they asked me about a month later to read Act V to them. We laughed together at the right times.

Then one afternoon my ten-year-old son, whose current hobbies include doing stop-motion animation movies with his Lego sets, asked me if I'd give him a hand with something. He'd started setting up a Lego version of "that play by that guy..." and he was hoping I'd help him with it. You've heard of hockey dads? I guess I'm a bit of a Shakespeare dad: I said yes.

It actually grew into something of a family project-- even our six-year-old got a part (a paraphrased version of the lion's part). And, all biases aside, I'm sure she would have done Mr. Shakespeare proud.

So, hoping it brings a bit of culture and light to terra incognita, I present to you the first all-Lego staging of: Bottom's Dream. (As you view, please bear Theseus's advice in mind: Nothing can be amiss when simpleness and duty attend to it).