The movie was, of course, wonderful as ever, and it was a joy to see it on the big screen. (I even noticed things I'd completely missed on the 323,405 times I've watched it on the small screen.)
The venue, however, was hideous. It was exactly what I expected except even worse. The Light House cinema seemed to have been designed to eliminate any hint of welcome, warmth, cosiness or softness whatsoever. It's all straight lines, sharp edges, hard surfaces and blank spaces. The whole aesthetic seems to proclaim, "Don't go thinking this is a place to have fun in-- no, this is a laboratory for serious cinephiles." I did see people carrying popcorn, but no doubt it was ironic popcorn.
Everybody in the cinema seemed to be in their twenties or thirties, and they were so cool that I probably should have been wearing an extra sweater. There were no children and no old people.
Alcohol was on sale in the cinema café, and could also be carried into the film. The guy beside me was drinking a beer. The smell of liquour is not a very pleasant smell, in most cases, and it certainly isn't what I consider a cinema smell.
In short, the Light House cinema is the negation of everything I love about cinemas, and I shake my head in wonder and dismay that I have so often heard it described as being "lovely" or "beautiful". How can taste be so corrupted?
Saturday, February 2, 2013
The Trolley Situation in Tesco, Ballymun is Becoming Desperate
I transcribed this notice word-for-word while waiting in the queue in Tesco, Ballymun's main supermarket. My American readers doubtless know that a shopping trolley is what we call a shopping cart. (I didn't have my phone on me to take a snap, and besides I always feel goofy taking phone pictures and drawing everyone's attention. I refuse to subscribe to the "pictures or it didn't happen" philosophy.)
Shopping Trolley Appeal
So far in the last 16 weeks we have lost 471 shopping trollies.
At this stage we are critically low on trollies and will be short for Christmas.
If you are aware of any trollies either in storage or loose in the community, please contact us on 01-8421011 and we will arrange for pick-up.
Thank you.
I don't know why I find the idea of 471 trollies lost in 16 weeks hilarious, but I do. It's like a Battle of the Somme of shopping trollies.
Shopping Trolley Appeal
So far in the last 16 weeks we have lost 471 shopping trollies.
At this stage we are critically low on trollies and will be short for Christmas.
If you are aware of any trollies either in storage or loose in the community, please contact us on 01-8421011 and we will arrange for pick-up.
Thank you.
I don't know why I find the idea of 471 trollies lost in 16 weeks hilarious, but I do. It's like a Battle of the Somme of shopping trollies.
Should There Be an App for That?
I've just been listening to a journalist on the Marian Finucance Show giving a round-up of the latest and most exciting "apps". He was rhapsodizing over an app that lets you call a taxi with no call-out charge, and another app that lets you send a mobile phone text for free (I think). He mentioned, incidentally and almost gloatingly, that taxi companies and mobile phone companies would take a big hit from these free services.
How come we are all in favour of jobs and against unemployment, and the executive who "lets people go" is a villain in movies and books and news reports, but we are so enthusiastic to use technologies and services that will probably put people out of work? We are not only enthusiastic, we are gleeful at the prospect of doing the businesses out of money.
Do the people who download illegal music and movies not feel a twinge of guilt at the closure of the HMV shops in Ireland? When I made this point to somebody I know who does illegally download files, and who is unabashed about the practice, he said: "HMV make huge profits. They just decided to get rid of their Irish branches". That doesn't make much sense to me. Even if that was true, there must be some reason why keeping their Irish branches open seemed like a good idea until a few weeks ago, and now doesn't. I can't believe that illegal (and indeed legal) downloading doesn't play some part in that.
On the same subject, my father reproached me for ordering books and DVDs through Amazon, since this would also have damaged HMV and other stores, and he is quite right. My initial defence was that you can't buy more obscure of niche or out-of-print stuff in most bookshops or music shops, but you can at least try to order them through the shops and I didn't.
Now, I accept that the prices a particular business might charge might be extortionate, or gratuitous, and an "app" (or some other cost-cutting or free way of getting what you previously had to pay through the nose for) might be a deserved come-uppance. But is this really always the case? After all, even though I don't worship at the altar of the Free Market, it does seem to make sense that businesses would not charge rip-off prices when they have competition that could underprice them. (Except of course when it comes to shops and labels with snob value.)
I just think we are way, way, way too complacent in our attitude to technology. Even speaking as an enthusiastic blogger, and a man who met his fianceé online, I think we should be much more wary of the possible social costs of new inventions.
How come we are all in favour of jobs and against unemployment, and the executive who "lets people go" is a villain in movies and books and news reports, but we are so enthusiastic to use technologies and services that will probably put people out of work? We are not only enthusiastic, we are gleeful at the prospect of doing the businesses out of money.
Do the people who download illegal music and movies not feel a twinge of guilt at the closure of the HMV shops in Ireland? When I made this point to somebody I know who does illegally download files, and who is unabashed about the practice, he said: "HMV make huge profits. They just decided to get rid of their Irish branches". That doesn't make much sense to me. Even if that was true, there must be some reason why keeping their Irish branches open seemed like a good idea until a few weeks ago, and now doesn't. I can't believe that illegal (and indeed legal) downloading doesn't play some part in that.
On the same subject, my father reproached me for ordering books and DVDs through Amazon, since this would also have damaged HMV and other stores, and he is quite right. My initial defence was that you can't buy more obscure of niche or out-of-print stuff in most bookshops or music shops, but you can at least try to order them through the shops and I didn't.
Now, I accept that the prices a particular business might charge might be extortionate, or gratuitous, and an "app" (or some other cost-cutting or free way of getting what you previously had to pay through the nose for) might be a deserved come-uppance. But is this really always the case? After all, even though I don't worship at the altar of the Free Market, it does seem to make sense that businesses would not charge rip-off prices when they have competition that could underprice them. (Except of course when it comes to shops and labels with snob value.)
I just think we are way, way, way too complacent in our attitude to technology. Even speaking as an enthusiastic blogger, and a man who met his fianceé online, I think we should be much more wary of the possible social costs of new inventions.
Wake Up, Woodchuck Chuckers...
...It's Groundhog Day! Yes, today is the day immortalized in the greatest motion picture of all time. To celebrate, you might want to read my hugely popular post about this classic. (OK, OK, my mildly popular post about it.)
I am looking forward to seeing it on the big screen for the first time this evening, at the Lighthouse cinema in Dublin's Smithfield.
Of course, everything in secular culture is a derivation of something sacred, so Groundhog Day is really just the poorer relative of Candlemas Day, the ancient Christian celebration of Christ's presentation in the Temple, which is an even bigger deal in Eastern Christianity than it is in Western Christianity. Happy Candlemas Day!
I am looking forward to seeing it on the big screen for the first time this evening, at the Lighthouse cinema in Dublin's Smithfield.
Of course, everything in secular culture is a derivation of something sacred, so Groundhog Day is really just the poorer relative of Candlemas Day, the ancient Christian celebration of Christ's presentation in the Temple, which is an even bigger deal in Eastern Christianity than it is in Western Christianity. Happy Candlemas Day!
Friday, February 1, 2013
Why Do Bad Things Happen to Good People?
Answer: They don't. There are no good people.
Next week: the problem of free will.
Next week: the problem of free will.
Ballymun: Notorious Even in Italy
The suburb I have called home all my life has apparently got a stinging review from the Italian magazine Marie Claire, as reported The Irish Times:
In an article called ‘Return to Ballymun’, the magazine quoted a number of Ballymun residents from 2011 saying people living there were ashamed to give their address. It also compared the area to the dystopian crime-ridden future metropolis in the science fiction film Blade Runner.
Since the article’s publication last week, a number of people cited in the article have told local Labour TD John Lyons that they were not accurately quoted. The man who is quoted as comparing Ballymun to Blade Runner told the TD he has never even seen the film.
It's not the tidiest place in the world and there are a few too many knots of youths wandering around for my comfort, but Blade Runner might be going a little bit too far. Although, come to think of it, I think I may have spotted a few replicants there, over the years.
(Not having seen a film or read a book doesn't always stop people referencing the work in question, by the way. How many of those people who describe some government office or bureaucatic process as Kafkaesque have have actually read Frank Kafka? I have read Kafka, but I wish I hadn't, and may God preserve me from ever using the term "Kafkaesque".)
In an article called ‘Return to Ballymun’, the magazine quoted a number of Ballymun residents from 2011 saying people living there were ashamed to give their address. It also compared the area to the dystopian crime-ridden future metropolis in the science fiction film Blade Runner.
Since the article’s publication last week, a number of people cited in the article have told local Labour TD John Lyons that they were not accurately quoted. The man who is quoted as comparing Ballymun to Blade Runner told the TD he has never even seen the film.
It's not the tidiest place in the world and there are a few too many knots of youths wandering around for my comfort, but Blade Runner might be going a little bit too far. Although, come to think of it, I think I may have spotted a few replicants there, over the years.
(Not having seen a film or read a book doesn't always stop people referencing the work in question, by the way. How many of those people who describe some government office or bureaucatic process as Kafkaesque have have actually read Frank Kafka? I have read Kafka, but I wish I hadn't, and may God preserve me from ever using the term "Kafkaesque".)
Good News Indeed
A small news item in this week's edition of The Irish Catholic caught my eye, and also gladdened my heart. Christian churches in Derry City are getting together to distribute free copies of The Gospel of Luke to every home in the city.
The report says:
The mission got off to a good start with the first of the thousand volunteers sought by the churches, to help distribute St Luke’s Gospel to around 40,000 homes, signing up at the project launch in Foyleside Shopping Centre.
Coinciding with the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity, the launch attracted many shoppers to stop for a while and take part in the community singing, enjoy a variety of Scripture-based performances by a mix of local schools, and listen to readings from St Luke’s Gospel.
I think this is exactly what the churches should be doing. I don't want to take away from all the sterling social work done by priests and nuns and laypeople, or to dismiss that work's intrinsic importance, or its importance as an act of Christian witness. But we also desperately need to explicitly proclaim Christ. The Light is going out all over Europe.
Today's post-Christian society is happy enough to give a few minutes air time to a priest, as long as he is talking about "spirituality" in a vague kind of way. It will listen politely to a nun or a theologian or a Catholic intellectual, as long as they are simply bashing materialism, or the commercialization of sexuality, or even if they are complaining about euthanasia or marriage breakdown or the frenetic pace of modern life. Outside the ranks of the New Atheists and the rabidly anti-religious, there is a general openness to the contribution of "people of faith". It is seen as a legitimate counterpoise to the general thrust of society-- a thrust that most people, even liberal and non-religious people, are usually not that wild about themselves. Most people would agree that individualism can be destructive, that sexual freedoms can become a prison, that the wisdom of tradition is to be valued. Incidental allusions to Christ and the Gospels are indulged graciously, or sentimentally, or in the way that a politician's reference to one of Aesop's fables might be accepted.
I am not suggesting that Christians should disdain to speak on these terms. But it is crucial not to be confined to them. So I am very happy to hear that the churches in Derry are putting the focus of their public engagement where it belongs, on Christ and the Gospel.
I am all too wretchedly aware of my own shortcomings in this regard. I admit that I would not have the courage of those volunteers who will distribute St. Luke's Gospel to the homes of Derry, and who may face the scorn or wrath or indignation of at least some of the home-owners. I do not have the courage of the woman who handed me a flyer for the Vigil for Life as I was walking into the Omni Centre in Santry. I would not have the courage of the young Jehovah's Witness who approached me in King's Dominion amusement park in Virginia, and asked me if I had let Jesus Christ into my life.
I've always been terrified of approaching strangers for any purpose. Even asking directions of a passer-by is a last resort for me. I never understood how anybody can initiate a conversation with a stranger in a pub, or how a man can walk up to a woman he's never met and start flirting with her. Walking into a museum wearing a Superman costume would seem no more daunting to me.
I was just about to write "I'm not making excuses for myself", but then I realized that's exactly what I'm doing. I am making excuses. Anybody who knows me at all knows my religious beliefs, and I have defended and debated them on many occasions, but I am too cowardly to evangelize face-to-face.
I often find myself thinking about this subject-- the distinction between the private and the public, and the question of what is seemly to each. One of the things I like so much about this scheme in Derry is that the participants are indeed bringing the Gospel to the people, but in a respectful and comparatively non-intrusive manner.
I think (and this is just my opinion) that our attitude towards public and private life is increasingly dominated by two tendencies, which seem contradictory but which actually feed off each other. The first is a rather shameless readiness to force ourselves on other peoples' attention, and to make demands of their time and money. Of course, it is mostly commerce that drives this, but it's not just commerce. Charity, politics, the media and even private individuals get in on the act. It is the difference between a volunteer jingling a collection box and crying, "Help the homeless!", and a young person with a clipboard approaching you individually in the street and suggesting that you open a standing order. I wrote a letter to The Irish Catholic bemoaning this phenomenon.
The other phenomenon is the rise of a kind of militant privatism, a resentment of any encroachment from strangers or society or anything coming from outside one's own little sphere. Libertarianism seems to be the chosen philosophy of most ideologically-committed young people today, and often it is a kind of radical libertarianism in the mode of Ayn Rand, the writer and philosopher who asserted that altruism was evil. The idea that the State itself should be abolished is, today, far from being the opinion of a few crackpots. As well as this, our public discussion seems to revolve more and more around what you might call "housekeeping" matters than that age-old question, How then should we live? If an atheist wants to attack religion, he attacks blasphemy laws or public spending on religious schools. If a man wants to attack feminism, he criticizes the courts' treatment of fathers or the depiction of men in publicly-funded artworks. It is as though we have to appeal to the referee rather than each other, as though we have to prove that somebody else's views or way of life infringes our own rights rather than simply criticizing it for its own sake. It is as though we cannot claim an unselfish interest in society and humankind. It is as though every debate about society has to be the equivalent of flatmates arguing over who takes out the rubbish or how loudly music can be played.
Along with this, there comes a kind of peevishness about one's own privacy, a crankiness towards our colleagues and relatives and the man ahead of us in the queue for the ATM. How many stand-up comedians have you heard whining about the depredations of actually having to interact with their fellow human beings? Keep out of my face, seems to be the mantra. I also wrote a letter about this recently, to The Irish Times.
Of course, I think the two things are linked. The pushier we get, the more petulant we seem to become about our own privacy. And I think that anyone who really believes in the idea of a public life, as I do, should for that very reason be careful not to abuse his fellow man's attention and goodwill. And that is another reason why I hail the initiative of the Derry churches, and the simple and dignified way they are going about it.
One final thought; the fact that the event was launched in a supermarket is also to be commended. It emphasizes that Christianity is relevant to daily human life, and it reaches out to people who would never go into a church or community college or town centre.
Three cheers for the Christian churches of Derry City, then!
The report says:
The mission got off to a good start with the first of the thousand volunteers sought by the churches, to help distribute St Luke’s Gospel to around 40,000 homes, signing up at the project launch in Foyleside Shopping Centre.
Coinciding with the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity, the launch attracted many shoppers to stop for a while and take part in the community singing, enjoy a variety of Scripture-based performances by a mix of local schools, and listen to readings from St Luke’s Gospel.
I think this is exactly what the churches should be doing. I don't want to take away from all the sterling social work done by priests and nuns and laypeople, or to dismiss that work's intrinsic importance, or its importance as an act of Christian witness. But we also desperately need to explicitly proclaim Christ. The Light is going out all over Europe.
Today's post-Christian society is happy enough to give a few minutes air time to a priest, as long as he is talking about "spirituality" in a vague kind of way. It will listen politely to a nun or a theologian or a Catholic intellectual, as long as they are simply bashing materialism, or the commercialization of sexuality, or even if they are complaining about euthanasia or marriage breakdown or the frenetic pace of modern life. Outside the ranks of the New Atheists and the rabidly anti-religious, there is a general openness to the contribution of "people of faith". It is seen as a legitimate counterpoise to the general thrust of society-- a thrust that most people, even liberal and non-religious people, are usually not that wild about themselves. Most people would agree that individualism can be destructive, that sexual freedoms can become a prison, that the wisdom of tradition is to be valued. Incidental allusions to Christ and the Gospels are indulged graciously, or sentimentally, or in the way that a politician's reference to one of Aesop's fables might be accepted.
I am not suggesting that Christians should disdain to speak on these terms. But it is crucial not to be confined to them. So I am very happy to hear that the churches in Derry are putting the focus of their public engagement where it belongs, on Christ and the Gospel.
I am all too wretchedly aware of my own shortcomings in this regard. I admit that I would not have the courage of those volunteers who will distribute St. Luke's Gospel to the homes of Derry, and who may face the scorn or wrath or indignation of at least some of the home-owners. I do not have the courage of the woman who handed me a flyer for the Vigil for Life as I was walking into the Omni Centre in Santry. I would not have the courage of the young Jehovah's Witness who approached me in King's Dominion amusement park in Virginia, and asked me if I had let Jesus Christ into my life.
I've always been terrified of approaching strangers for any purpose. Even asking directions of a passer-by is a last resort for me. I never understood how anybody can initiate a conversation with a stranger in a pub, or how a man can walk up to a woman he's never met and start flirting with her. Walking into a museum wearing a Superman costume would seem no more daunting to me.
I was just about to write "I'm not making excuses for myself", but then I realized that's exactly what I'm doing. I am making excuses. Anybody who knows me at all knows my religious beliefs, and I have defended and debated them on many occasions, but I am too cowardly to evangelize face-to-face.
I often find myself thinking about this subject-- the distinction between the private and the public, and the question of what is seemly to each. One of the things I like so much about this scheme in Derry is that the participants are indeed bringing the Gospel to the people, but in a respectful and comparatively non-intrusive manner.
I think (and this is just my opinion) that our attitude towards public and private life is increasingly dominated by two tendencies, which seem contradictory but which actually feed off each other. The first is a rather shameless readiness to force ourselves on other peoples' attention, and to make demands of their time and money. Of course, it is mostly commerce that drives this, but it's not just commerce. Charity, politics, the media and even private individuals get in on the act. It is the difference between a volunteer jingling a collection box and crying, "Help the homeless!", and a young person with a clipboard approaching you individually in the street and suggesting that you open a standing order. I wrote a letter to The Irish Catholic bemoaning this phenomenon.
The other phenomenon is the rise of a kind of militant privatism, a resentment of any encroachment from strangers or society or anything coming from outside one's own little sphere. Libertarianism seems to be the chosen philosophy of most ideologically-committed young people today, and often it is a kind of radical libertarianism in the mode of Ayn Rand, the writer and philosopher who asserted that altruism was evil. The idea that the State itself should be abolished is, today, far from being the opinion of a few crackpots. As well as this, our public discussion seems to revolve more and more around what you might call "housekeeping" matters than that age-old question, How then should we live? If an atheist wants to attack religion, he attacks blasphemy laws or public spending on religious schools. If a man wants to attack feminism, he criticizes the courts' treatment of fathers or the depiction of men in publicly-funded artworks. It is as though we have to appeal to the referee rather than each other, as though we have to prove that somebody else's views or way of life infringes our own rights rather than simply criticizing it for its own sake. It is as though we cannot claim an unselfish interest in society and humankind. It is as though every debate about society has to be the equivalent of flatmates arguing over who takes out the rubbish or how loudly music can be played.
Along with this, there comes a kind of peevishness about one's own privacy, a crankiness towards our colleagues and relatives and the man ahead of us in the queue for the ATM. How many stand-up comedians have you heard whining about the depredations of actually having to interact with their fellow human beings? Keep out of my face, seems to be the mantra. I also wrote a letter about this recently, to The Irish Times.
Of course, I think the two things are linked. The pushier we get, the more petulant we seem to become about our own privacy. And I think that anyone who really believes in the idea of a public life, as I do, should for that very reason be careful not to abuse his fellow man's attention and goodwill. And that is another reason why I hail the initiative of the Derry churches, and the simple and dignified way they are going about it.
One final thought; the fact that the event was launched in a supermarket is also to be commended. It emphasizes that Christianity is relevant to daily human life, and it reaches out to people who would never go into a church or community college or town centre.
Three cheers for the Christian churches of Derry City, then!
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