Jesus Movies: A Humble Critique

Henry Ian Cusick (Gospel of John)

Jesus movies. You know the type. Even the more recent ones of the bunch (History Channel's The Bible miniseries, The Passion of the Christ, Risen, et al.) seem to suffer from the same problems. (Please don't stone me. As Jesus was fond of saying, "I'm telling you the truth.") Dramatic inertia. Catatonic performances. Stilted dialog. Flat characters. They're boring. They're bland. They're largely unmemorable.

Most importantly, I don't really connect with or care about any of the characters. It all boils down to one reason: the filmmakers are too afraid to show any of these Biblical figures as being "real people." The poor actors are often overwhelmed with verbatim dialog from the Gospels, more mouthpieces for text than living, breathing characters in a story. I understand it's difficult to find a balance when you're making a film about a person over a billion people revere as divine. I sympathize. But I still think the medium of filmmaking is ultimately about creating something that rings true - that reaches its audience. Connects with its audience. If it doesn't connect, it isn't worth the effort.

With that preface out of the way, I'll make a full disclosure. I love Jesus movies. I've seen nearly all of them. I own many of them. Why? Because I'm a huge nerd. I like breaking down their various elements and comparing/contrasting them with each other. It can't be the weirdest hobby around, but it's up there. Another disclosure: I may point out their flaws with zest, but I still enjoy watching them.

The story of Jesus has been told countless times in cinema. How many characters can boast that many different portrayals in film? Nope, not even Sherlock Holmes or Batman (despite ubiquitous sequels and prequels and reboots).

I enjoy watching all these different actors doing their best to tackle extremely difficult roles, all these directors and screenwriters bringing their own ideas into the mix, all these composers spending sleepless nights trying to find music worthy of such an "important" story, all these poor extras milling about in the desert with their robes and sandals and turbans, pursued by frantic makeup artists dusting them with fullers earth.

One must ask oneself, why so many different films? Seems like every year, more are announced. Why do people keep wanting to retell this story? Everyone knows the narrative beat for beat. How do you maintain any sort of tension or intrigue when a story is so well known? Modern filmmaking is all about the twist at the end, maintaining suspense throughout, doing something "edgy" and "different." It's about complex characters, flawed characters, people we can relate to. There's truth in them, and the audience can see that. So far I've only encountered one narrative treatment of the Gospels that satisfies the plotting problems most Gospel adaptations encounter - The Chosen (2019) - but I'll talk about that more toward the end.

Unfortunately, many Jesus films bring little new or interesting to the genre (yes, "Jesus Film" is basically its own separate genre now), and therefore largely fail to justify their own existence. Most simply aren't what we would consider "good films," though they may have other merits in different categories. I tend to put more weight on the success of the role of Jesus, success being defined as a "yes" answer for the following two questions: "Would I follow this guy?" and "Does he act like a real human?" As you'll see when I go through some of the more salient examples from the genre, not a lot of them succeed in this regard. Many simply portray Jesus as a dull, boring teacher, too divine to even behave like a real human being would under the circumstance of, ya know, being alive.

Robert Powell (Jesus of Nazareth)

Robert Powell in Jesus of Nazareth (1977) comes to mind. While I think his performance was consistent, and he had a few moments of humanity, his dialog was textbook, and he seemed aloof, distant from the reality he was inhabiting, as though he were too good for it (which may be true, but c'mon, I don't get a super uppity vibe from him in the Gospels). Part of it was the odd choice to portray Jesus as never blinking, which doesn't really help with the humanity portion of the character. Were they trying to suggest Jesus' eyes were capable of lubricating themselves without blinking? What an intriguing theory. But hey, at least Robert Powell had charisma, which some other, more modern interpretations have sorely lacked.

King of Kings (1961) and The Greatest Story Ever Told (1965) featured two more lead-weighted performances, with actors crippled beneath the burden of portraying the world's most famous carpenter (or stone mason, depending on who you ask). Jeffrey Hunter, a generally excellent actor who died far too young, was actually older than Jesus when he portrayed him, and yet King of Kings was humorously referred to as "I Was a Teenage Jesus" because of how young he appeared in the film. On the opposite end of the scale, Max Von Sydow, another great actor, was distractingly old, which robbed his character of energy and vibrancy.

Jeffrey Hunter (King of Kings)

Neither of these films came close to capturing Jesus' humanity as well as his divinity, though I give Jeffrey Hunter credit for what he was able to do under the circumstances. One scene in particular comes to mind, in which he goes to visit John the Baptist in prison (not in the Gospels, mind you). Jesus takes John by the hand, through the prison bars, and the wordless gesture carries with it an odd power the rest of the film seems to lack. Also, there's a scene in which Jesus is fixing his mother's chair before the Passover - which is a nice touch, even on its own - and offhandedly says he'll finish when he gets back. "You'll never fix the chair," his mother says, serenely. Jesus turns around with this look of shock, like, "Whoa. You're right. I'm gonna be dead in a week." Why couldn't the rest of the film have moments like that?

A later entry into the genre that maybe goes too far in the opposite direction is The Last Temptation of

Willem Defoe (The Last Temptation of Christ)

Christ (1988). This film received a mixed response from Christians, mostly because of the dream sequence at the end where Jesus is tempted by an ordinary life with Mary Magdalene. That's not my problem with it. I even like the Green Goblin as Jesus, despite the fact he doesn't look remotely Middle-eastern (can we stop with the blond hair and blue eyes already?). Willem Defoe offers an interesting portrait of his character, the score, by Peter Gabriel, is amazing, and the film is obviously well done, because Martin Scorsese. However, what The Last Temptation offers in good cinematic quality, characterization, and narrative intrigue is undercut by the unrealistic nature of Jesus' following in the film. He lacks magnetism, so I have no idea how he manages to gather that many people around him. I wouldn't follow him. He looks like he's perpetually on the verge of a mental breakdown. Interesting? Yes. Realistic? No.

I should probably address the myriad Jesus TV specials that came out in the late 90s. One, Mary,

Christian Bale (Mary, Mother of Jesus)

Mother of Jesus, starred a young Christian Bale as the lead. He's actually decent, when he's given anything to do. He's expressive, and brings a certain earthiness and vulnerability that a lot of actors don't, while also providing magnetism. If only the production values weren't so lackluster, and the music so overbearing, and the rest of the cast so nonexistent.

Another late 90s TV movie of some note was Jesus: The Epic Miniseries (1999), starring Jeremy Sisto. There was actually some fun, unusual stuff here. They took more license with the story, but it was done in service of the narrative, and in the spirit of the text. Some of the additions are 90s cheese, but a few actually work. I liked that Satan shows up in a business suit, presenting Jesus with visions of the Crusades, the World Wars, and starving children in Africa. It adds a sense of relevance and timelessness to the story. But the dialog is a mixed bag, and Jeremy Sisto is merely ok. He's down to earth and

Jeremy Sisto (Jesus: The Epic Miniseries)

human, compared to most. But his acting can be inconsistent, and his charisma just isn't there. It must be hard to find an actor in his early 30s who can pull off both magnetism and vulnerability.

As for the third and most pointless in the 90s TV Jesus special trifecta, Judas (1999), they literally cast a California surfer dude as Jesus. Super blonde. Super white. Super American. He's Shaggy from Scooby Doo. (Not actually, but he might as well be for what he adds to the feature.) Only good scene is Jesus and Judas sharing some good banter and having a wrestling match. Would I follow this Jesus? Depends. Does he have Scooby Snacks?

Visual Bible's Matthew (1993) is super low budget, and it shows. But its heart is in the right place, so you tend to overlook its lack of flash and pizzazz. Jesus, played by Bruce Marchiano, is very likable, even though his dialog is taken verbatim from the Gospel of Matthew. Watching it, I can't help but

Bruce Marchiano (Matthew)

feel, "This guy gets it." He doesn't look Middle-eastern, and his accent is a bit jarringly American, but he gets it. He understands, and as such, is noticeably different in his approach. Even while delivering run-of-the-mill dialog, he's constantly smiling and laughing, constantly touching people and kissing people and loving on people (and animals; he definitely loves the Rich Young Ruler's horse). It's really lovely to see. There's also a nice vulnerability to him, as exemplified in his scathing condemnation of the religious leaders of his day, wherein he literally screams at them with tears in his eyes, then collapses at the end and has to be comforted by John.

In the same vein, BBC's The Passion (2008), starring Joseph Mawle (of Game of Thrones fame), also presents a warm and compassionate Messiah. Due to lack of availability in the States, I've only seen whatever clips from it I could scrounge from YouTube, but I really enjoyed what I saw, despite the

Joseph Mawle (BBC's The Passion) 

peculiar casting of extremely white actors as Jesus and the disciples. Joseph Mawle is superb, so it's an easy flaw to overlook. He presents a vulnerability in the midst of his character's self-assurance, reflecting the interplay of Jesus's coexisting natures. In addition, the screenplay is excellent, and the dialog feels natural and genuine. 

The Gospel of John (2003) stars Peruvian-Scottish actor Henry Ian Cusick as Jesus, of Lost fame. He does what he can with the role, but watching behind the scenes featurettes, I get the impression director Philip Seville had a

Henry Ian Cusick (Gospel of John)

particularly severe version of Jesus in mind, and goaded his lead actor in that direction. Henry's performance has its moments. He sheds a tear for Lazarus, as per the gospels, and even has some genuine emotion in his voice a few times. Appearance-wise, he's not far off the mark, and I like that they cast someone small and slight versus the typical physique one sees in such films. But there's just something lacking from the portrayal, and I suppose it comes down to the typical failure to capture the essence of Jesus' dual nature.

We've come a ways since the Jesus films of yore, but Modern!Jesus in film still suffers from a lot of the same problems. In History Channel's The Bible, Portuguese actor Diogo Morgado plays Jesus. I admit he's likable. He's nice, he's chill, he smiles, he looks around the

Diogo Morgado (History Channel's The Bible)

right age (another gripe of mine in Jesus movies - they seem to always cast someone older for the role, forgetting that Jesus died at 33). But while watching it, I really couldn't see how anyone would follow this guy. He doesn't seem to understand the words coming out of his own mouth. There's nothing intriguing about him, nothing "true-to-life." He's just another mouthpiece for text, not a living, complex character.

What I notice in most Jesus films, even ones made more recently, is how stony people's expressions are. Jesus in particular seems to always have a problem with any sort of human expression. There ARE exceptions (Visual Bible's Matthew is atypical, as is the more recent The Chosen series, which I'll get into later on), but for the most part, Jesus' face will feature one expression for the entire film, with only slight variations. Mostly, he just looks like he's annoyed all the time, or bored, or superior to everyone around him. He's not interesting to watch, and usually, I don't get the vibe that he's invested in much of what he's saying. It is possible to deliver difficult dialog in a natural manner. It's also possible to look like you're actually thinking about what you're saying and not just rattling off memorized lines.

I think part of it is that actors have a notion that certain expressions are too "modern," as though in times past humans refrained from using various motions of their faces because they hadn't been discovered yet. Pure bunk. And even if it were true, they should use the full range of their expressiveness anyway, because they're playing to a modern audience, not people who lived back then.

Sometimes I just want to jump into a Jesus film and shake the oh-so-holy actor out of his self-importance, yelling, "Be a real human! Plz!" I don't understand why most productions are so afraid to show Jesus the way he actually was.

I need a scene where Jesus trips over a rock and falls down and the disciples start laughing and he's like, "Haha, very funny. Help me up." Or a donkey brays during one of his sermons and everyone busts up laughing (you just know it happened). Or where he's trying to mend Mary's door and accidentally breaks it, then shrugs and is like, "This is why I quit carpentry." He had to have had a sense of humor. Who would've wanted to be around someone who didn't? Certainly not me.

On that note, Mel Gibson's The Passion of the Christ (2005) broke records at the box office, and was the first Jesus film to be rated R. As an actor, James Caviezel tends to be a bit mystical, a bit...

James Caviezel (Passion of the Christ)

otherworldly. It's easy to see why Mel cast him as Jesus. Unfortunately, barring one gorgeous scene that I love to pieces (Mary and Jesus bantering about a table), he's given very little to do besides wear a lot of stage blood and prosthetics and say "ow" on cue. After a certain point, you could basically replace him with the fake body double they actually had on set, and no one would've noticed. The audience is put through the wringer, unable to maintain the type of investment in the narrative and characters that's needed to have real impact. "But wait," you say, "people were coming out of the cinemas sobbing." That's a different kind of impact. Specifically, a forceful bludgeon more likely to cause PTSD than an actual connection with the film or its characters. An audience doesn't automatically have to care about what happens to a character just because the character is Jesus. That sort of investment has to be earned.

Joaquin Phoenix (Mary Magdalene) 

Another more recent addition to the genre is Mary Magdalene (2018), directed by Garth Davis. This was a sadly underrated film with some stunning images and cinematography. It's soulful and deep, and I think captures well the mystique of someone like Jesus (played by a soft-spoken Joaquin Phoenix).

The dialog is particularly powerful, at times arresting. This one offered something new, beautiful and thought-provoking enough to justify itself as a piece of cinema, not merely a religious exercise. I'm not sure about Joaquin as Jesus - for one thing, he looks like he's 50, not 33 - but he does bring a quiet presence to the role, and even some touching humanity. (I will eventually add this one to my collection just for the opening scenes of Mary floating under the water, accompanied by a transcendent score by Hildur Guðnadóttir and Jóhann Jóhannsson.)

Finally, for the pies de la resistance, we have The Chosen (2019). I'm a little iffy on the way they're presenting this multi-season series (avoiding all the existing streaming services) but it's their show, so I guess they can present it to their audience however they want. They have literally done the impossible, with a crowd-funded, 10 million dollar budget.

Jonathan Roumie (The Chosen)

They've made a good quality, well-scripted, well-shot, well-acted, non-hokey series on the life of Jesus that actually manages to be entertaining, intriguing, and thought-provoking. Jesus, played by Jonathan Roumie, is a little older than I'd prefer, but it's a small gripe. He's honestly amazing. He looks Middle-eastern, he's warm and human, he has range of expression, and it's easy to understand why people would be drawn to him. Best of all, he's funny, and it's not a sort of humor that clashes or feels forced. It seems very natural when he tells the leper he's just healed that "green is definitely [his] color," or he blows raspberries at some nearby children. This is gonna be one to watch. I'm shook.

So I suppose the vast majority of problems associated with Jesus films boil down to skating over necessary bits of character development, using characters as mouthpieces for text, and not bothering to give the audience a reason to invest, or care about what happens to any of them. We often can't find commonality or connection with Jesus' character, in particular, because he's so two-dimensional. The spark of truth is missing from his words and deeds. We don't see a real human being speaking words from the heart, or doing acts spurred by love, compassion, and a sense of destiny. We intuit that "Jesus" is just an actor delivering dialog he doesn't understand, or performing acts he doesn't believe in. He's not engaged. He's just following the script. The audience picks up on that. 

I'd better stop before this post gets any longer. I really could go on and on for days on this subject. On a closing note, I actually feel that Jesus films are getting progressively closer to the truth, baby steps at a time. One can only hope so, with the benefit of so much trial and error. It will be fascinating to watch how the genre develops down the road, assuming it remains as enduringly popular. I have a feeling it will.

Retail Therapy

It seems the holidays are only becoming increasingly focused on shopping, on acquiring more and more items under the pretense of “gifting.” Multi-billion dollar marketing campaigns encourage the masses to throw all caution to the wind, max out their credit cards, and engage in some old-fashioned retail therapy. Because #holidaycheer, am I right?

So if you like the idea of being stampeded by frenzied shoppers the day after expressing gratitude for what you already have, then it might be a good idea to examine your reasons for doing so. It seems the older I get, the less interested I become in mainstream commercialist sensibilities. I’ve experienced the “shopping high” that comes with purchasing an item, often followed by regret. That regret can happen upon reaching the car, or later, when I look at my credit card statement and am boggled by how much money I spent for such a seemingly minor return. Even if the items purchased are gifts, I've realized it’s unwise to spend more than I can afford on something generic or forgettable. These “token gifts” are often unwanted anyway, as people’s tastes become increasingly specific.

These days I try to give gifts that I think will have a more lasting impact, or are more personalized. I will hand make things for people - typically things that I know are both beautiful and useful. Or I will find another way to express love and fondness through giving of my time, my talent, my care and concern - reaching out to people in a way that is expressly for them. That’s not to say I won’t give people purchased gifts at all - I mean, I love receiving a well-thought-out present as much as the next person.

But to make the holiday too much about buying things, to bow to the mounting pressure of retailers, who are madly trying to convince you you’re a terrible person if you don’t go all out with Christmas shopping every year, is an unfortunate mistake. The important thing to keep in mind while you’re doing (or not doing) your holiday shopping this year, is that what makes us happy in our lives is never going to be items found in a store. They can certainly make us more comfortable, or bring us fleeting moments of joy, appreciation, or fun, but they will not produce a happiness that lasts. True happiness stems from belonging, from purpose, and from loving and being loved.

The holidays should remind us of this essential truth. Physical items will not fill the void within each of us, and Black Friday’s siren song should be seen for what it truly is - an expensive distraction from the hard truths we would be better off paying attention to. My suggestion is to find a way to love and serve others this holiday season, whether that’s through volunteering, random acts of kindness, arranging a coffee date with someone you haven’t spoken to in a while, baking cookies for your friends, spending time with loved ones, or even just taking a moment to sit quietly and think about what you might have become very skilled at distracting yourself from.

Frugality

I'm not sure when I became so frugal. Whether I've been that way all along, or if I became more and more so when I failed to see any appreciable difference in my happiness levels buying into a life of commercialism vs. living more within my means. In fact, I feel happier being a cheapskate (within reason) than going out and splurging on purchases I know I'll regret later, once the retail rush wears off.

For example, I've always tended to put my money toward things that will give me more of a happiness ROI, and skimped on things that don't seem to matter to me that much. Shampoo and conditioner, for example. A $2.50 bottle of Garnier Fructis or whatever's cheapest (besides Suave; even I won't stoop so low as to use Suave) seems to suit me just as well as any of the few times I've borrowed a dollop of my sister's $15 a bottle "salon quality" shampoo.

Also, clothes. Clothes are clothes. I don't care about brands that are supposedly stylish and trendy. Why should I? They cost 10 times as much as the clothes at Goodwill or other thrift stores, and I don't enjoy them any more than the latter. I just pick out what I like from affordable second hand stores and leave it at that. I don't think I've ever spent more than $12 for a pair of jeans. I generally get my shoes second hand, too, and probably the only time I've had anything "nicer," they were given to me as a gift.

Books? Second hand. Or the library. Hoopla or any other number of apps that work via the local library system are an amazing resource for free ebooks, audiobooks, music, and movies.

Car? The current one I have, I bought from my sister for $1170. It's a 2001 Toyota Camry with over 200,000 miles. Is it a nice car? Eh. Do I care? Not really. It gets me from point A to point B, it's reliable, fuel efficient, and I only pay $30/month for insurance. Most importantly, it's paid off. Sounds like a good deal to me.

Here's a big one. Food. Most people don't realize how much it costs to dine out all the time, or even just to get coffee a few days a week. That's because the money is spent in little bits and pieces, not all in one go. But if you were to sit down and start adding up how much you've spent over the course of a month on your McDonald's and Starbucks runs, there's a good chance you'd be shocked at how much these seemingly insignificant purchases end up costing. Starbucks 3 days a week, at the average cost of $4-$5 per stop? Almost $60 over the course of a month. Don't get me wrong; I like going out for coffee as much as anyone. But I keep it as a special treat, not a routine thing. I might go out for coffee once every couple of weeks, but for the most part, I make my own coffee at home.

Need espresso quality coffee? Can't live without it every single day? Invest in a Brevel. Learn how to use it. Can't live without a stylish-looking Starbucks cup in your hand? Buy a reusable one, make your own coffee at home. I'm talking thousands of dollars saved per year. The math doesn't lie.

While we're still on the topic of food, figure out grocery items you can buy that are both cheap and nutritious. Less packaged food, more dried or canned goods like rice and beans. Rice is inexpensive, and makes a great base for a nearly infinite variety of meals from all different types of cuisines. Rice and beans together are a complete protein. Veggies? Get them from a discount grocery store like Grocery Outlet, or better yet, from a farmers market.

Also, when you cook, make a big batch and eat it for a few days. Hate eating the same thing days in a row? Stock up on individual serving size food containers with lids, do a cooking day in which you make five to seven different meals, portion them out into the containers, and freeze them. This is a great idea if you work a lot, and don't have time to cook. Extremely affordable, and will save you from being caught unprepared and having to make unexpected fast food stops.

All this scrimping and saving should ultimately have some goal in mind, so what are my goals? My number one goal is to ultimately find myself in a situation where I'm able to live with extremely low monthly expenses (i.e. utilities, property taxes, insurance, etc.), such that I'm able to do what I enjoy doing and work where I enjoy working, in the amount with which I am most comfortable. To me, that should be the ultimate goal of life - prioritizing meaningful work, creativity, family/friends, and enjoyment of life, vs. keeping up with the Jones's, and having to be a workaholic in a job you hate in order to maintain a lifestyle that costs too much to ever be sustainable.

Obviously, this all seems very simple, and a lot of people's situations are far more complicated, especially when you add in things like student loan debt and mortgage payments. But still, the principles listed above are sound, and can be applied to these scenarios as well. If you're able to save even a few hundred extra dollars a month, and put it toward some sort of goal, you're doing something a lot of people aren't willing to do. I think it's important to consider first and foremost your life's priorities. Is it more important to you to have nice things, or to keep up with the ever-changing trends? Or is it more important to live within your means, and prioritize the things money can't buy, such as your health, your relationships, and your mental well-being?

Whistling Echoes

I thought of Dad today, unexpectedly. Since my mom and sister moved to the new house, I've been alone, looking after the old place until we can sell it. It's very peaceful and quiet, which I like.

I was walking through the long open space between the kitchen and great room, heading toward the front door, when I absently started whistling. It was a tune from Phantom of the Opera, which caught me off guard for two reasons: 1) I hardly ever whistle anymore, and 2) I somehow unconsciously picked a tune Dad always seemed to be whistling, one of his go-tos. I was well into it before that double whammy registered, whistling into the open, echoing stillness of the high ceiling, slurring the notes together, just like he used to do.

It's funny, the things people leave behind. Their essences. In my case, it's hereditary. We whistle the same way because we're related. Seven years he's been gone. Nearly everything he ever owned - everything that was distinctly his - is now gone. Sold, donated, changed beyond recognition. The things that will never die are more deeply ingrained. The people who were dearest to him, that will never forget him. The people who will keep him alive as long as they themselves live.

It makes me consider how other people will remember me, the sort of legacy I want to leave behind. What little things will trigger memories for them, happy or sad or somewhere in between. I wonder how I might live on in the lives of others, years after I'm gone.

Along Came a Spider

Giant spider. 
Sleepless night.
From 10 to 7
I kept on the light.

Let's start at the beginning. I'd just returned from an exhausting day of group therapy (don't ask) and decided to take a nap. For context, I'm in Australia, living in a so-called "granny flat" in someone's backyard. So I turned out the lights, set a timer, and went unconscious. I reset the one-hour timer twice for a total of two hours. Like I said, I was exhausted.

The bed didn't help things. It's extremely broken down on one side, so I have to sleep with my head down at the foot of my bed to mitigate the feeling of sleeping on a hill. Not to mention the fact that it's criminally hard and also somehow lumpy.

Upon waking, the half-light revealed the wall adjacent the bed headboard, in which direction I was facing. And upon the wall, an eight-legged shape materialized through my groggy, day-napping vision like a specter through a veil of mist.

You have no idea how much I've dreaded the onset of the warm weather. It's just going into summer here, as I'm in the South-Eastern Hemisphere. Australians like to gleefully point out to tourists that's when all the creepy-crawlies come out to play. (They're cheeky, Australians. They'll also tell you one about the notorious "drop bears" if you don't watch out.)

I've spent hours googling methods of sending spiders packing. Better yet, not inviting them in in the first place. I have reasonable cause - I mean, I'm living in a place where basically every living creature wants to kill me. Best I could figure, mint essential oil, apple cider vinegar, and water in a spray bottle was my most cost-effective option.

Like an OCD maniac, I couldn't rest until I'd spritzed down my entire living area. Every single day. Multiple times a day. It may have been that the ritual comforted me, because at least I was doing something, rather than waiting passively for the spider epidemic to end me.

I may have forgotten to spritz down the living area on the day in question, due to a combination of exhaustion and being gone all day. Understandable.

I got up, probably looking more like someone about to face their literal doom than a spider, making slow, wary movements as I tried to get a closer look without getting too close. The spider remained perfectly still, probably eye-balling me with equal caution. It was a terrifying standoff. Neither of us seemed to want to make a move.

I didn't know what to do. I stood there for a remarkably long time thinking it over. I took a photo of my spider intruder, maybe so my family would have evidence of my killer in the event things went ill. The spider patiently watched me be indecisive.

Finally, I began pacing around the room looking for a weapon. A fly swatter or nuclear missile would have been ideal. But I didn't have either, and couldn't get them any time soon.

In the end, I decided to try using the bottom of a jar to smash the spider. That worked about as well as if I'd politely asked the spider to leave. Which is to say, not at all. Unless, of course, my objective was to have the giant spider jump toward me, no doubt laughing to itself, and proceed to crawl under my bed.

I may need trauma counseling.

Now the spider was decidedly out of reach. Lurking beneath the bed, it was waiting for me to turn out the lights and go to sleep so it could crawl up my duvet and sink its fangs into my unwary flesh. I was convinced of it, as I'm sure any reasonable arachnaphobe would be.

Few options met my desperate mind. Tearing apart the room in search of the spider didn't seem viable. My two-hour nap hadn't done much to remedy my exhaustion, and tearing apart rooms requires energy. Psyching myself out all night didn't seem like a particularly great option either, but under the circumstances, I didn't see an alternative.

I spent a couple hours googling, trying to see what other people had done in my situation, besides staying up all night crying, or burning down their houses. This led to my go-to comfort, distraction. Soon, I found myself watching YouTube videos about the Cambodians and their deep-fried tarantulas.

At length (roughly 2 AM), I became too exhausted to care any more. I decided to leave the floor lamp in the room on, in case that deterred my arachnid guest from coming to snuggle. Wishful thinking. Dreaming of creepy crawlies and many-legged terrors, I drifted into fretful unconsciousness. (More like, struggled, sinking in quicksand-style. "Drifted" sounds too peaceful.)

Upon waking, I was shocked to find no further evidence of arachnid activity. Against all odds, I had survived! The spider might have been dancing a jig on me in the night for all I knew. It might've invited all its spider friends and acquaintances to join in, and had a massive dance party on my reposing form, laughing all the while at its victory over the "crazy yank." (It's an Australian spider, so no doubt it also has the accent.) Whatever the case, I'd rather remain in the dark. 

It's a bit early to celebrate, though. Summer has only just begun. 26 days to go until I flee back to the United States, and the spider-free refuge of winter, leaving the Australians to have all the spidery fun.         

NaNoWriMo

It's National November Writing Month.

I've "won" (completed the 50k word count) in previous years, though last year was crazy busy and I only managed about 30k. The novel was set in the futuristic past and may or may not have involved a portal between pre-history and now, a Mr. Darcy-esque love interest, and houses with roof tiles that were solar panels in disguise. (Side note: few things annoy me more than little bugs flying in front of my computer screen while I'm typing. *swats at little bugs doing precisely that*) 

This year, as I'm currently enrolled in a film school in Australia, I've decided to attempt a screenplay instead. Possibly two.

Next semester I'll be making a short film based on a screenplay I've written (pending approval from Australia's film teacher equivalent of Severus Snape). I'm attempting a narrative based on the American Civil War, but set in a fantasy world akin to Tolkien's Middle-earth. I am confident that, whatever form my screenplay eventually takes, it will at least be a more interesting film to make than the three or four I've had to participate in recently, which involved drugs in the park, an eco-terrorist, and a gay couple interrogating each other over the breaking of a vase from Kmart. 

However, this particular screenplay has nothing to do with the one I'm writing for NaNoWriMo. For the aforementioned event, I'll be attempting a screenplay for a full length feature film. Not that it will ever be made, but a girl can dream.

I'll be writing a smaller amount per day than I would if I were attempting a novel, owing to the relative brevity of a screenplay, but this is better for me, schedule-wise. Updates may or may not follow. (I make no promises.) 

The Quiet After

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. Life has gotten very confusing all of a sudden, as if I've walked from the peak of the mountain, where the air is bright and clear, down into the depths of a thick and impenetrable cloud. I've lost focus. My path hasn't changed, but my motivation has.

Few people relish the thought of being abandoned by those they hold dear. But people must be allowed to make their choices, to stay or to go. Love means freedom, and true friendships - even the closest of them - are not cages. Those of us left behind must find the will to carry on, even when the footsteps we are used to hearing beside us have faded away into the distance. But we will hear the echo of them in our hearts for a very long time.

We wanted a simple life, free of the chains of working drudgery that promises happiness and delivers only dissolution and a wasted youth. We wanted a home of our own. A place that would welcome us no matter what, a home waiting for us at the end of all our adventures. But the adventures ended almost before they had begun. At least, the adventures that might have been shared, treasured, cherished by two hearts.

I'm sad. A bit broken, if truth be told. Many nights I don't sleep. Many days I stare at walls and think of nothing. At work, I function on autopilot, the perfect retail robot chirruping out cloying, high-pitched tones, no longer hearing the sound or meaning of my own words. Silence and stillness in a world of noise and movement. Like shadows of darker days, memories I've long sealed and buried.

Life goes on, and so must I. Even if I seem to have lost the map.