Saw a pretty twisted movie last evening: THE CRIMSON BOLT. It was funny, heart-felt, and as crude and violent as it could be. Had to pray afterwards. But the thing I really liked about it was the fact that Jesus is like ground water. Go a half inch deep, and there He is. The director knew as much, too, if in a twisted SECOND HAND LIONS platonic sort of way. Justice and good were what the movie was about in the end, both in a world that has gone insane. Four broken stars.
Speaking of our crazy world and responses to that, we've got Franz Wright coming here in a few weeks. I love this guy. No lame Christian leader/winner bull roar. He cuts through all that. Give me failure, need, a true sense of our self-sufficiency; that's Wright!
What else? We're reading A MIDSUMMER NIGHT DREAM. Shakespeare rocks of course, and though I wasn't surprised by how anti-Catholic the Bedford edition was, I did find it tiresome. The play's a Boy Bishop celebration of love and mystery: the things we need in life, the things only a healthy Catholic sensibility can give. The editors are so lame and even. They need the vestiges of the reformation--which incidentally wasn't over until after the Cromwell murderings--so they can remember everything they aren't. Pathetic.
Good Queen Bess my ass. Murderous b-tch if ever there was one. Made Mary look like a rookie.
The last acceptable prejudice.