Wow, it’s been well over a month since I posted a new entry here. Sorry about that. I have a feeling that updates here will be sparse for the foreseeable future. Politics has taken a necessary front seat in my blogging endeavors. If you’re interested in reading my yammering on about that, please go over here. I’m currently publishing a new post at least several times a week.

For now, though, I leave you with a picture of something I found at my grocery store. The product is commonly known as “Shit on a Shingle”, and the fact that someone’s marketing an instant version of it as a delicious meal is downright insipid.

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I finally saw It’s A Wonderful Life last week. I opted out years ago in protest of Ted Turner’s colorized version, and then it just annoyed me when it was on 24 hours a day throughout December in the 1990s. By the time that ended, not having seen it had become a test of wills; Matt vs. The World, Christmas edition. But I’ve finally decided that it’s time to finally see this classic film and find out what the fuss is all about.

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Of course, I already knew most of the story. You can’t get away from it that absolutely; after all, the story’s been re-used several times. The fun was watching the details that haven’t made it into the cultural database.

The first two thirds of the movie was pretty darn good. I appreciated how George Bailey had grand plans that kept getting interrupted by his sense of duty to others. He didn’t get to college, he didn’t get a honeymoon, he didn’t get to have a lot of money or go to cities around the world or do anything he’d planned. Instead he compromised, and compromised, and compromised.

Not that that’s a bad thing. That’s just the way life happens sometimes.

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I wasn’t feeling the last third of the movie, though. From the time Clarence hit the ground on, it took a turn that was a bit too optimistic for me, and a bit narcissistic. I mean, according to Clarence’s reality, no other boy could have saved George’s brother, and Mary would have turned into an old maid who couldn’t possibly have found another mate, and nobody in the world would have stood up to old Mr. Potter. Et cetera.

I’m only half serious here; I’m well aware of the limited message that Frank Capra was trying to give. And while it’s a little heavy handed for me, I do understand the appeal of that message, especially at Christmastime. Regardless, it was all worth it for the scene between George Bailey and his daughter Zuzu. That was a sweet moment.

And of course, without It’s A Wonderful Life, we wouldn’t have The Lost Ending to It’s A Wonderful Life.

Merry Christmas, movie house!

I’ve been a pretty big fan of Andrew Peterson for awhile now, previously commenting here on his book. But it’s his day job as a singer/songwriter that originally pulled me in. The honesty in his lyrics is such a refreshing change from the run-of-the-mill bad Christianity-and-water soft rock that radio stations like K-LOVE play. It’s not just the lyrics that set him apart, though. There’s an artfulness in his music that has become rare in standard mass-produced radio-ready three-chord Christian music.

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Well, Peterson has a new album out. Resurrection Letters: Volume II is a loosely connected collection of songs about sacrifice. (Volume I is tentatively set to release sometime in 2009 and will focus specifically on Holy Week and Easter.)

Rather than yammering on about each track, I’ve decided to crib episode 5 of the Rabbit Room podcast, in which Peterson plays an edited version of each track, adding commentary on each. It’s 35 minutes long, so get a cupajoe, plug in your headphones, and give it a listen.

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Probably my favorite track on Resurrection Letters: Volume II is the second. When I got the album, I was especially struck by the arrangement of Hosanna (Thanks to Ben Shive for writing those strings!). It was only five or six weeks later that I really listened to the words. This excerpt is a great example of Andrew Peterson lyrics.

I have struggled to remove this raiment,
Tried to hide every shimmering strand.
I contend with these ghosts and these hosts of bright angels.
Hosanna.

I have cursed the man that you have made me.
I have nursed the beast that bays for my blood.
Oh, I have run from the one who would save me.
Save me, Hosanna.

You can purchase Resurrection Letters: Volume II from any major music retailer such as amazon.com or over at the Rabbit Room store (CD or download).

An Alfred Hitchcock film today, this one a remake of a film he’d made 22 years earlier. The Man Who Knew Too Much stars Jimmy Stewart and Doris Day, in a rare dramatic role. They are Ben and Jo McKenna, on vacation with their son in Morocco in the 1950s. After a series of seemingly innocent encounters, Ben is given a piece of information that puts the entire family in jeopardy.

Hitchcock is amazing. Even today’s directors don’t hold a candle to his skill. Here we have a mystery with clues flying all over the place as the audience follows Ben and Jo around. But there isn’t enough information to know the good guys from the bad, and the audience is left to try (unsuccessfully) to piece it all together.

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At this point Hitchcock does something that most filmmakers won’t. At just the right time, as the tension is becoming unbearable, he veers from the lead characters’ perspective and gives the audience an additional bit of information. He did it in Rear Window when the audience watches a woman leave the neighbor’s apartment while Jeffries sleeps, sure that she’s been murdered. In The Man Who Knew Too Much, Hitchcock takes us to the kidnappers, where we learn exactly when in a piece of music a man will be killed. He points out which instrument to watch and lets us hear a recording several times to make sure we’ve got it.

Then he drops us back into the lead characters’ lap, where we find our place in the viewing fundamentally changed. We aren’t following them around as they search for clues anymore, we’re trying to lead them around hoping they figure out what we already know in time to stop a murder. Hitchcock has made us active participants, powerless to do anything but watch in horror.

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Jimmy Stewart is wonderful as the clumsy and confused doctor put completely out of his element without the first idea of what to do. It’s an intriguing series of events that leads to the meat of the story, and Stewart is an exceptional choice for getting the audience there without realizing it.

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Doris Day (below) does an impressive job, especially given the departure this was from her usual light-and-fluffy comedies. I wouldn’t call her acting revolutionary, but she’s certainly charming in the role, and especially effective near the beginning when her husband is dismissive of her suspicions.

This is brilliant film making. It’s not my favorite Hitchcock (that still belongs to Rear Window), but still great.

Remember back in June when I talked about how remarkably awesome Neil Patrick Harris is? Remember Dr. Horrible, the internet sensation starring Neil Patrick Harris? Ooh, and what about the 75% real / 25% scary-put-on internet crush that I have on him?

Wanna say "Love your hair" Here I go...mumbling

Yeah, well he’s still great. So great, in fact, that Entertainment Weekly just put him on their list of 2008 Entertainers of the Year. While I raise an eyebrow to his spot on the list and that terrible picture they used, the fact that he’s on the list at all is tremendous and well deserved. The fact that they never mentioned that Neil is gay is pretty darn cool. He’s popular, he’s mainstream, and he’s gay. Here’s a video he made for Entertainment Weekly.

We'll make time stand still

So great that he’s certain to make the Out100. (Images in this post are from the photo shoot Neil did for Out magazine earlier this year. Click them to embiggen.) The ceremony is Friday night, and I’ll be updating this post once his place on the list is released.

Update: Well, the Out100 came out and Neil’s not on the list. Why, I don’t know. I also don’t know why Kate friggin’ Perry would top the list. But never mind. EW beats OUT any day.

As promised in June, I’ve start catching up on How I Met Your Mother, and I’m currently one DVD away from finishing Season 2. It’s not a perfect show, but it’s certainly better than much of the current crop of sitcoms. Surprising no one, the best part of the show is Neil Patrick Harris. (Pay no attention to my bias.)

I’m sure he won’t manage by some freak of happenstance make it to my tiny blog twice, but just in case:

Neil? Keep standing tall. You make us proud.