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gdelgiproducer · 5 years

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What’s been your favorite staged version of JCS? (Non-concert)

First, a list of the staged (non-concert) versions of JCS I’ve seen: two high school productions (about which you’ll hear nothing in this post; it’s unfair to judge them in competition with pros), the closing performance of the 2000 Broadway revival, two performances of the national tour that followed said revival (one of which featured Carl Anderson as Judas and Barry Dennen – Pilate on the original album, Broadway, and in the 1973 film – as Herod), and four performances of a national tour initially billed as Ted Neeley’s “farewell” engagement in the role of Jesus. In total, discounting the number of performances of each, five productions, only three of which we will consider here.

The 2000 Broadway revival had basically all the problems of the video of the same production: I’m sure Gale Edwards is a fine director of other shows, but she missed the boat with this particular iteration of JCS. (Not having seen her original production at the Lyceum Theatre in 1996, which unfortunately never left that venue and was reportedly far better than the one that went wide, I can only comment on this version.) Her direction and the production design that accompanied it were full of the kinds of blatant, offensively obvious attempts at symbolism and subtlety that appeal only to pseudo-intellectual theater kids. In real life, there’s no such thing as obvious good vs. obvious evil (things just ain’t black and white, people), and any attempt to portray this concept on stage or in a film usually results in a hokey “comic book” product, which is kind of what the 2000 production was.

The first thing Edwards did was draw her line in the sand. “These are the good guys, and these are the bad guys.” The overall production design played into this ‘line in the sand’ feel as well, being so plain in its intentions as to almost beat you over the head with them. There may have been some good concepts mixed in, but for a show that runs on moral ambiguity, they were very poorly executed and did damage to the piece. Some examples:

Annas and Caiaphas were devoutly “evil,” seemingly designed to inspire fear. It’s easy to see good as so very good, and bad as so very bad; to want to have the evil in a nice little box. But it’s not that simple. As Captain Jean-Luc Picard (and now you know where my Star Trek loyalties lie, curse you!) once said, “…villains who twirl their mustaches are easy to spot. Those that clothe themselves in good deeds are well camouflaged.” Evil isn’t always a clear and recognizable stereotype. Evil could be lurking inside anyone, maybe even in you, and you would never know. People aren’t inherently evil. Like good, it’s a role they grow and live into. And since history is basically a story of the developments and actions of humans over the ages, maybe it’s a mistake to view the characters who’ve played their parts in it so one-dimensionally. It doesn’t dismiss the evil they did, but it does allow one to understand that this potential to be good or to be evil is in everyone, and that it’s not always as simple as just doing the right thing.

Judas was an almost thoroughly unlikable prick (though Tony Vincent played him a tiny bit more sympathetically than Jerome Pradon in the video); in beating Jesus over the head with his cynicism and curt remarks, any sense of a fully three dimensional person was lost, leaving us with a total, utter dickhead. If the audience is to truly feel for Judas, and appreciate his fall, it’s imperative for them to see his positive relationship with Jesus. More importantly, it has to be readily apparent. It shouldn’t be the audience’s responsibility to assume as much. I never once saw any love, or even a hint of friendship, between Jesus and Judas in the 2000 production. Judas’ interactions with Jesus were a constant barrage of either completely in-your-face aggression, or more restrained (but still fully palpable) aggression. No hint of a conflict in him, or at least none the audience could see, and what use is a conflict or emotion if the audience isn’t privy to it?

And when not telegraphing an ultra-specific view of the story’s events, everything else about the design would’ve left a first-time viewer befogged. Young me liked the industrial, post-apocalyptic, pseudo-Gotham City atmosphere of the set. Older me still likes it (though I am firm in my opinion it works best on stage), but realizes what a mess the rest of it was. We’ve got Jesus and the apostles straight out of Rent, Roman guards that looked (with the choice of riot gear) like an army of Darth Vader clones with nightsticks substituting for light sabers, priests that practically stepped off the screen from The Matrix, a Pilate in generic neo-Nazi regalia, a Herod with showgirls and chorus boys that seemed to have visited from a flash-and-trash third-rate Vegas spectacular, a Temple full of ethnic stereotypes and a mish-mosh of dime-store criminals, and a creepy mob with a striking resemblance to The Addams Family that only popped up in the show’s darker moments. Lots of interesting ideas which might work (operative word being “might”) decently in productions of their own, all tossed in to spice up a rather bland soup. The solution to having a bunch of conflicting ideas is not to throw all of them at the wall at once; you look for a pattern to present itself, and follow it. If no pattern emerges from the ideas you have, it’s a sign you should start over.

You can see what my basic issue was: where other productions at least explored motivation, examining possibilities and presenting conflicting viewpoints for consideration, the 2000 production (when not utterly confused in its storytelling thanks to conflicting design) blatantly stated what it thought the motivation was without any room for interpretation – this is who they are, what they did, why they did it, so switch off your brain and accept what we put in front of you. Which, to me, is the total opposite of what JCS is about; it didn’t get famous for espousing that view, but for going totally against the grain of that.

The national tour at least had Carl and Barry to recommend for it the first time around, but for all the mistakes it corrected about the 2000 revival (swapping out the shady market in the Temple for a scene where stockbrokers worshiped the almighty dollar, with an electronic ticker broadcasting then-topical references to Enron, ImClone, and Viagra, among others, was a fun twist, and, for me, Barry Dennen gave the definitive performance of Herod), it introduced some confusing new ones as well:

For one, Carl – and, later, his replacement, Lawrence Clayton – looked twice the age of the other actors onstage. Granted, Christ was only 33 when this happened, but next to both Carl and Clayton, Eric Kunze (I thankfully never caught his predecessor) looked almost like a teenager. When Ted and Carl did the show in the Nineties and both were in their fifties, they were past the correct ages for their characters, but it worked – in addition to their being terrific performers and friends in real life whose chemistry was reflected onstage – because they were around the same age, so it wasn’t so glaring. Without that dynamic, the way Jesus and Judas looked together just seemed weird, and it didn’t help anyone accept their relationship.

Speaking of looking weird together, the performer playing Caiaphas – who was bald, and so unfortunately resembled a member of the Blue Man Group thanks to the color of lighting frequently focused on the priests – was enormously big and tall, while the actor in the role of Annas was extremely short. Basically, Big Guy, Little Guy in action. Every time I saw them onstage, I had to stifle the urge to laugh out loud. I’ve written a great deal about how Caiaphas and Annas are not (supposed to be) the show’s villains, but that’s still not the reaction I should have to them.

The relentlessness of pace was ridiculous. It was so fast that the show, which started at 1:40 PM, was down by 3:30 PM – and that included a 20-minute intermission. What time does that leave for any moments to be taken at all? A scene barely even ended before the next began. At the end of the Temple scene, Jesus threw all the lepers out, rolled over, and there was Mary singing the “Everything’s Alright” reprise already. How about a second to breathe for Mary to get there? Nope. How about giving Judas and Jesus two seconds’ break in the betrayal scene at Gethsemane? The guards were already grabbing Christ the minute he was kissed. I was so absolutely exhausted towards the end of the show that I was tempted to holler at the stage to please slow down for a minute. The pace didn’t allow for any moment in the show to be completed, if it was ever begun; it was just too fast to really take advantage of subtle touches and moments the actors could’ve had, and as a result, I think they were unable to build even a general emotional connection, because one certainly didn’t come across.

The cast was uniformly talented singing-wise, with excellent ranges and very accomplished voices. (In fact, the second time around, the woman understudying Mary, Darlesia Cearcy, walked away with the whole show in my opinion, and I am incredibly glad to have seen her career take off since then.) But, in addition to some being more concerned with singing the notes on the page just because they were there than imbuing them with emotion and motivation, the cast was undercut by the choices that production made with the music. For one, there’s a huge difference between singing “words and notes” and singing “lyrics and phrases.” When you have a phrase like “Ah, gentlemen, you know why we are here / We’ve not much time, and quite a problem here…” you sing the sentence, and if sometimes a word needs to be spoken, you do that. You don’t make sure you hit every single note by treating each like a “money note” (which you hit and hold as long as you can to make sure everyone hears it), dragging out the tempo to hang on to each note as long as you can. Generally, the actors were so busy making sure every note was sung – and worse, sung like a money note – that they missed the point of singing a phrase, and how to use one to their advantage. Caiaphas and Pilate were particularly egregious offenders. (I’ve never understood some of these conductors who are so concerned that every note written has to be sung. The result suffers from it.)

And then there’s Ted’s production. Of the three, it’s the one I liked the most, but that’s not saying much when it was better by default.

The production design was stripped-down, the set basically limited to a bridge, some steps, a stage deck with some levels, and a couple of drops (and a noose) that were “flown in.” The costumes were simple, the sound was very well-balanced, and the lighting was the icing on the cake. Combined, the story they told was clear.

The music sounded very full, considering the pit consisted of a five-piece band relying in part on orchestral samples.

Ted, for being of advanced age, was in terrific form vocally, if his acting fell back a little much on huge, obvious, emotive gestures and choices. (I love him and all, but his attempts at acting were kind of like a “Mr. Jesus” pageant, striking all the appropriate Renaissance poses. The film, through editing and close-ups, allows him a subtlety he just ain’t got onstage.)

And there were some beautiful stage pictures; for example, there was a drop with an image of a coin with Caesar’s head on it in the Temple scene, and it fell on the crowd when Jesus cleared out the riff-raff. In the leper sequence that followed, the chorus’ heads popped out of holes in the cloth, under which they undulated, pulsing to the beat, and rather than being treated as a literal mob scene, the sequence had a very dream-like effect, a mass of lost souls reaching out to Christ. It was rather like a Blake painting, with a creepy vibe in a different manner from the typical “physically overwhelm him” approach. He didn’t interact with them, didn’t even turn to look at them, until finally he whipped around with a banishing thrust of his arm, hollering “Heal yourselves!” Sometimes it was over-acted with annoying character voices (remember, I saw this four times), but when it wasn’t, the effect was chilling.

My main beef with the show was, oddly enough, on a similar line to my beef with Gale Edwards’ production: it drew lines in the sand. But in this case, it drew them with respect to Jesus’ divinity.

As written, JCS deals with Jesus as if he were only a man, and not the Son of God. The show never suggests that Jesus isn’t divine, but neither does it reinforce the view that he is. Portrayed in detail in JCS is the mostly-unexplored human side: ecstasy and depression, trial and error, success and regret. He agonizes over his fate, is often unsure of his divinity, and rails at God. Not so in this production. Aside from “The Temple” and “Gethsemane,” there was never any room for doubt that Jesus was the mystical, magic man portrayed in the Gospels.

At the top of the show, after a fight between his followers and the Romans during the overture (a popular staging choice I’m not a real fan of, but you’ve got to do something during that moment in a fully staged version, and I understand why it’s an easy choice to make for exposition purposes), Jesus made his majestic entrance, spotlit in robes that looked whiter than Clorox bleach could produce, and raised a man from the dead. Well, where’s the room for Judas to doubt? Clearly “this talk of God is true,” we just saw it! If this guy is actually capable of performing miracles, and more than that specializes in necromancy, good luck telling him that fame has gone to his head at the expense of the message and he’s losing sight of the consequences! Try explaining to anyone that that person is “just a man”!

If that weren’t enough, Jesus went on to have a constant connection with God throughout the show, speaking to a spotlight that focused only on him and often served to distract him from anything else happening onstage, and at the end, during “John 19:41,” his body separated from the cross, which fell back into the stage, and he ascended to heaven.

Now, though the former was admittedly played to excess (some reviewers unkindly compared Neeley to a homeless man with Bluetooth), there are arguments to be made in favor of both of these choices: a Jesus who constantly seeks a connection with God that isn’t reciprocated, searching for guidance or at least a friggin’ clue, is great foreshadowing for his eruption – and acceptance – in “Gethsemane.” As for the ascension, depending on how it’s staged, there’s room for argument that it could be interpreted more metaphorically than literally, as the moment when Jesus’ spirit is born, as Carl Anderson once put it (meaning, to me, that his message is given life and strength when his body fails him). But this production didn’t have that level of shading and layers to it, and coupled with the resurrection at the start, it defeated the rest of the story.

None of ‘em’s perfect, and I don’t think I could create the perfect one. Thus, concert.

#AMA

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Wynonna Earp Season 4 Episode 9 Review: Crazy

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This Wynonna Earp review contains spoilers.

Wynonna Earp Season 4, Episode 9

Wynonna Earp has often balanced the inherent darkness of its premise with, among other tones, some zany supernatural fun. Ostensibly, “Crazy” is another case-of-the-week story that has Wynonna & co. hunting a social media-obsessed genie who has a cannibal suffering from kuru disease as her, er, master.

Past that, it’s yet another glimpse into just how deeply Wynonna has internalized the curse she was once ruled by, and just how much she is suffering because of it. She may no longer be beholden to the Earp curse, but Wynonna is still living as if the only thing she’s good for, the only thing she deserves, is a life of demon-killing. “Genie, you’re free,” our protagonist tells her target—the implication being that there is no such freedom for Wynonna, only a life of looking morally ambiguous monsters in the eye as she kills them and then going to sleep drunk and alone. I can’t quite figure out where Wynonna Earp Season 4B is going thematically, and I love that I don’t know because I think that is part of the point: Wynonna is in a dark, messy place. She’s an imperfect heroine, a hero who has made some bad choices, and the show isn’t giving us an easy answer to the questions of morality those choices have brought up.

In “Crazy,” Wynonna’s antagonist is not Doug, but rather Ginny the Genie. I’m not sure how well it works that Ginny’s relationship with Doug begins narrative life on this show as an allegory for domestic abuse, but, aside from that, Ginny’s messy end works incredibly well with this larger thematic exploration of monsters & morality Season 4B has been exploring. Because Ginny’s culpability in Doug’s murders isn’t black and white. She may be hiding behind Doug’s wishes and his disease, or she may be genuine when she tells Wynonna she silenced her screams because she couldn’t stand to hear them when there’s nothing she could do. Wynonna seems to believe this is a lie, but it’s unclear if she would have made a different choice, that she would have spared Ginny’s life, even if she did believe the excuse.

“You gotta listen to the screams. You’ve got to look the cost of it in the eye, and tell it to go fuck itself,” Wynonna tells Ginny. Because this is the deal Wynonna seems to have made with herself, the line she has drawn in the sand, and you’ll notice it is very different from what happened with Hoyt Clayborn. She didn’t look Hoyt in the eye. She waited until his back was turned to shoot him, and she seems to think there is no coming back from that. She doesn’t believe she can be with Doc unless he falls down to the dregs of humanity alongside her. “Welcome to the moral low ground,” she tells Doc when she believes he has killed someone, so happy to have a companion once again because she is so damn lonely in her moral failure. But she doesn’t know how to ask for help; she only knows how to keep fighting. “The difference is that you have a way out,” Wynonna tells Ginny because she is so unpracticed at imagining a future for herself guided by self-compassion and forgiveness—these weren’t thinks her daddy taught her.

Meanwhile, Nicole is finally able to face her own ghosts—and I’m (mostly) not talking about that chicken-kicking video. It’s fitting that this episode begins with Wynonna and Nicole doing some friendly sparring because the two mirror one another in some interesting ways in “Crazy.” The difference is: Nicole is much further along working through some of the issues holding her back. She is able to look Doc in the eye and be honest about the mindset that led to making a deal with Margo Clanton, trading Waverly’s safe return for Doc. She admits that she was scared, and she thought Doc would be able to get out of whatever the Clantons had in store for him. She doesn’t say she regrets it because that would probably be a lie—she had to be sure that Waverly would come home—but she listens when Doc rebuts and she apologizes. More importantly, she faces it… and herself.

In the process, she reclaims the town sheriff position. (The democratic process has really fallen by the wayside in Purgatory, huh?) It’s hard for me to get behind Nicole’s return to the uniform as anything other than a plot point driven by characterization. If this series has a major narrative flaw, it’s the lack of specificity in its small town setting. As someone who grew up in the middle of nowhere, I’m always on the lookout for more authentic representations of rural life, and Purgatory is not it. (Though it does get winter right—for obvious reasons.) That being said, I don’t need Purgatory to be authentic, but I do need the setting to have, for want of a better phrase, better character continuity. Wynonna Earp seems to want Purgatory to have a sense of place, but it’s been incredibly erratic, from season to season and sometimes from episode to episode. That someone could live in this town and not know that Doc is a hundreds-year-old vampire or that Waverly is an angel is unlikely. The memory-altering fog hasn’t made it to town… yet.

Speaking of which, Ginny tells Wynonna: “I can stop what’s coming,” implying that yet another Big Bad is on the way—presumably, Eve, whom we haven’t seen since the beginning of the season. It’s too soon to tell and not as much fun to dwell on as other aspects of this meaty scene. We’ve discussed much of it, but not the fact that Wynonna is offered Ginny’s power and seemingly easily refuses. And that’s one of the things that sets Wynonna apart from the villain she is so afraid she has become. Villainy is using the power you have to hurt other people for the sake of securing and/or accumulating that power. It’s what Doug was doing when he started eating people’s brains. (Although that analysis is complicated by the fact that Doug seemed to have some kind of mental illness?) Wynonna has only ever used her power to try to protect others.

The question then becomes: what was Wynonna’s choice to kill Hoyt if not villainy? Is shooting someone in the back to keep them from potentially hurting your family an act of securing power? Does it matter what we call it? Should any one person have the right to decide which demon lives and which demon dies? Wynonna is obviously wrestling with these questions, even if she is unable to articulate them in any real way to herself or her loved ones. The closest she gets is in her conversation with Ginny—a “safe” space to express her feelings as Ginny is about to take them to her grave or hell or wherever she is about to end up. “I get it. I’m poison too,” Wynonna tells Ginny, equating herself with someone who just helped a man slaughter multiple innocent people. It’s yet another sign of just how poorly Wynonna thinks of herself these days, and just how dark this show can get in an episode that also involves another character delightfully yelling “Kristi Yamaguchi!” to a crowded bar.

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Additional thoughts.

It’s telling how cult-like and obsessive people can get about trivia irl that it took. meso long. to realize that everyone in town was under the influence of Doug’s wish.

“I never want you to blunt your ambition… it’s one of the things that makes you you.”

“I got you back. That’s my happy.”

Doc is surprisingly good at pop culture trivia.

“I must remain in this battle to prove that it is I who has the ideal brain.”

Maybe Purgatory should come up with an alternate model of local law enforcement?

I loved the multiple convos between Nicole and Rachel—a reminder that these two spent a lot of time together as family when Waverly, Wynonna, and Doc were in The Garden.

Doc has minions now.

“God damn law enforcement.” “The gun does tend to go to their head.”

“That means our beautiful cowboy is in the clear.”

Jeremy’s a really bad coroner, huh? He didn’t notice that those corpses have no brains.

Jeremy and Waverly get to make a murderboard!

Weather facts!

Wynonna: I won’t leave your side. Wynonna: *immediately leaves Ginny’s side*

“Random trivia is not an accurate way to judge intelligence.” Scream this from the rooftops. But also I love trivia.

“Well, now I love trivia… and you. In that order.”

What did the Clantons want with Doc? I assumed Margo just wanted to, you know, torture him then kill him, but the fact that Season 4B made a point of bringing this up again makes me think it’s more complex than that.

“The badge alone does not give the authority.” Doc demonstrates his peptalk superpower yet again.

Anyone else miss iZombie while watching this episode?

The gap between real-life cops and TV cops is so broad.

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shardclan · 7 years

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1, 2, 3, 4, 13, 17 (cough), 18, 42, 43, 44, 45, 74, 77, 78 :>

1. (Answered Here)

2. What kind of combatdoes your clan specialize in? Physical? Magical? Bit of both? Or are they morefond of subterfuge?

Magical combat is very much the order of the day, but justabout every dragon in the clan is more than capable of throwing a good punch.If they can fight in any capacity, you should be worried about them punchingyou in the throat once all their other options are exhausted.

Subterfuge is the domain of two dragons: Bestealcian, theUmbra Wolf and Actias, the Smoke Gyre. The fore only serves the Queen and thelatter has served the clan and its allies since the days of the old dynasty.Sometimes they are directly at odds in their goals, so it is very difficult forenemies or outsiders to keep up with whether the Smoke Gyre is even a real partof Clan Aphaster. Most of his clan mates don’t even know his real name.

3. What kinds of weaponsdo your dragons use? If your dragons use actual physical weapons how do theyhold them (assuming they don’t use claws/teeth)? If they use magic do they havesome sort of focus like a staff?

It varies from dragon to dragon and by their expertise.Aphaster dragons spend a significant amount of their time in humanoid shapesdue to an agreement with the local beastclans (in short: don’t trample theSummerlands; the Centaurs grow grain there and the Serthis hunt small game thatwould otherwise be pests).

Most physical fighters favor swords of some kind, whether it’sQueen Telos’ elegant saber, Arcanus’ unadorned broadsword, or Opalite’s saw-toothedcleaver. But there’s also a pretty lively sect of hand-to-hand fighters thateither use their fists or specialize in claw weapons. (Note: Queen Telostrained with Perilous, the best pugilist in the clan, and while she’s good atwielding her saber, she’s a demon at hook punches). Bestealcian and Actias arealmost never seen in humanoid form. The latter is a tooth and claw fighter whospecializes in quick death and incapacitation. The fore is a proper fighter andutilizes a variety of weapons, from an ice pick to arrows to a bladed alloy fanfrom the Blacksand Annex that also doubles as a shield.

Magic among my clan members is mostly for mundane purposes. Amongcombat magic users there’s Lutia, the aforementioned nuke, and she’s anArchmage so she doesn’t need anything but her will to cast magic. There’s Tawnywho isn’t an Archmage but is a high level pyrokinetic who can burn just aboutanything so long as it’s in his line of vision. Arcanus is a magic knight, hemostly uses enchantments and quick spells with his sword as a focus.

Then there are the witches, who are an entirely differentmatter but are next to harmless given they only use their powers for the spirittheir coven is serving at the time.

4. What or who would bemost likely to attack your clan at this point in time? Is your clan aware ofthis potential threat?

From above: An additional team exists solely to deal withThings trying to come through the place the Chalcedony Seat almost crackedthrough the veils, but they’re not strictly military.

Outsiders are the problem right now. Beings that don’t comefrom Sornieth being attracted to the rift . They don’t know about it yet, butit’s going to be factoring in veeery soon.

13. How “fairly” doesyour clan fight? Are they honorable even when things look grim? Are theywilling to get their hands a little dirty?

The clan is very multi-elemental and the members are allvery different. There’s no one who would say…use a meat shield in a fight. Butthey might throw some pocket sand at you and some of them firmly believe thatblackmail is a useful and perfectly reasonable tool against anyone who has madeit clear they intend to be a problem.

On the macro and in governmental affairs, the clan fightsfairly—very much lawful alignment—but they’re not above finding loopholes orabusing plausible deniability. Example: In the old clan, Actias prevented a warbetween the clan and oncoming harpies by snatching two males from their homeroost and threatening to kill them. This was framed as an independent action todefend his son, Iblis, but really it was so the clan could avoid war, scareaway the harpies, and not damage their reputation with other beastclans theywere friendly with.

Though it helps somewhat more now that unlike then, Telosreally doesn’t know what Actias is doing half the time and has been advised byActias himself to have Bestealcian hunt and kill him if it becomes politicallynecessary.

17. What sort of thingsdoes your clan look for in potential allies? In this case I mean generalattitude and moral code.

They prefer clans that don’t harbor shade creatures,emperors, demons, or more sinister forms of Outsider, but if enough trust isbuilt up it’s easy for them to overlook those things (see: Clan Feldspar).Really so long as your clan isn’t clearly evil or just more trouble than they’reworth, there’s not much in the way of central dogma that will see youautomatically turned away.

The only real dealbreaker is a clan whose overall philosophyinherently involves disharmony with the beastclans. Aphaster has greatrelations with most of the main beastclans save the corven and the harpies, andthey’re trying to keep it that way. A harpy runs the creamery, and she’s one ofthe most beloved members of the clan, local dragons won’t even let people lookat her funny. (This may or may not be because she’s the best friend of possibly the most overtly powerful witch in the Starwood coven)

18. What sort of services or exports does your clan need thatallies can/do provide? Why are they unable to do it/secure these items bythemselves?

Building materials are always going to be a big thing forthe clan. They’re Arcanites who previously lived as dragons with big FocalPoint lairs 100% of the time, they literally don’t trust enclosed structuresthat aren’t massive and made of familiar materials. But Crystalspine graniteonly comes from the Starfall Isles, and despite them having a literal portal tothe Isles they are very much on thin ice with the Arcanist right now. So theywill always need a supply chain from clans who live closer than they do.

For the same reason, they are also always willing to pay topdollar for any items from the Isles, especially Starfall Blossoms and variousfauna (bees from the Starwood Strand in particular are very important for HouseBetelgeuse)

Until previously they also needed quite a lot of Celestine tobe imported, but after the Celestial Vault was built and the Chalcedony Seatwas housed in it, they basically have the only self-replenishing source of highquality Celestine in the entire eastern half of Sornieth, and that’s become abig export.

42. What would most of your dragons say the biggest threat tothem is right now?

The Chalcedony Seat itself. It was basically meant to be theArcanist’s attempt at an artificial pillar piece, and the Shard Dynasty wasmeant to be its keepers. Only he never told any of them that, so when Lutiaactivated it and drove the old clan out of the territory, it was just out theregrowing increasingly radioactive and unstable. It became a huge problem andturned some non-beastclan creatures into dragons, it quite possibly led to theopal gene since the magical run off from it seeped into local leylines (they’renot hype to tell anyone about that hypothesis), and in the end, they had tobring it to the Sunbeam Ruins.

Despite Light element being highly susceptible to Arcane energy.

So, you know. They’re just…kind of waiting for it toexplode.

43. How competent wouldyour clan say your leader(s) is/are? How competent are they really?

“Extremely” and “she does her best”.

What makes Telos competent isn’t that she inherently knowswhat to do, it’s that she’s good at listening to people who have specializedexperience. Her choosing a council of Five Tribunes when she crowned herself is100% the best thing she could have done. Without them, Aphaster wouldn’t havemade it half so far and she knows it. Like, it’s fine she has about 85% of her ancestor’smemories for the past 5-6 generations of her family, but none of them wererulers. They were all scientists and alchemists from House Xanna. She knewenough to know that their memories wouldn’t help her with ruling a kingdom.

44. When dragons wish tobecome mates, how does that happen? Is there a ceremony? Do they just mutuallyagree to it? Is their mate already chosen for them?

Mate choosing is completely free form, and Clan Aphaster’sgovernment does not require a ceremony of any kind, or even any officialrecord. It used to be there was a Genealogist who handled that once, but shewent to the Arcanist’s service and no one has replaced her. It’s an entirelypersonal decision how or if any celebration or officiation will occur.

As a result, actual wedding ceremonies are major news in theclan and they tend to turn into massive to-dos that even some of the moreelusive members of the clan will turn up for. Without anything else in the wayof officiation or celebration, usually any pairs that have declared themselvesmarried will be mentioned in the local newspaper, the Sunbeam Sentinel.

45. Do the members ofyour clan more or less get along with each other? What would cause them toquarrel if so? Why do they if not?

More or less, yes. There’s a lot of little interconnectingcliques and it’s not necessarily that dragons that don’t hang out might hateeach other, they usually just don’t gravitate toward one another.

Personal beef can be normal, in the old clan Carnelianregular beat the shit out of a paparazzi coatl who caused him to lose the trailon a hatchling kidnapping.

Right now Estevao is largely considered a fool by any clanmember with good sense.

74. Is breeding done onlybetween mates? Freely? For the good of the clan?

All three.

Camellia is big into having kids but has never had a realmate a day in her life (literally her words after a male she had her mostrecent nest with also mated with another dragon from the clan and somebody gotnervous about it: “You know I’ve never kept the males as my own. I just likethe children.”; Haematica had her children because at the time she was the onlyplague dragon in the clan and they needed more; and there are several matedpairs who are exclusive.

77. How religious is thebulk of your clan?

They respect the gods, especially Lightweaver and theArcanist given the circumstances, but there are only a few who are genuinely religious.

Camellia was always very devout to the Arcanist, and afterthe events that destroyed their old dynasty, she was god-touched. She can’treally avoid being religious even if she wanted to.

Fletch is a forge priestess—meaning she’s a devout of theFlamecaller.This served quite well during the clan’s journey to the Sunbeam Ruins, when she pretty much called a lava-spewing fissure into the Carrion Canyon via prayer to escape a local bad news beastclan.

Turan is the Light Liaison, she has to be religious becauseif she isn’t Lightweaver will take it out of all their asses.

Azricai is surprisingly religious, but in a sort of…upsidedown tarot kind of way. She calls on the Windsinger in his capacity for stormsand destruction, protecting her clan by keeping them in the calm eye of thestorm she does her best to embody. It’s part of the reason dragons who know her well call her The Gale Wolf.

Penitence is religious, but it’s to the Icewarden, so. Heconsiders being the clan’s jailer and primary law enforcer a daily act ofworship.

Then there’s Lamium who will soon be in a very complicatedposition where he becomes the devout of the Veiled Moon (meaning the moon that isonly visible in Hewn City) basically under duress.

78. If your clan isreligious, how is worship done? Privately? Is there a large ceremony?

The devouts pray on their own. Ceremonies for the elementsusually only exist during elemental holidays.

#Aphaster Culture #C: Camellia #C: Fletch #C: Azricai #C: Lamium #C: Penitence

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jbuffyangel · 7 years

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Happy Mid Season Premiere Week!!

Hello fandom family! Sorry I’ve been a bit MIA. Tried to keep up the posting but it was a bit quiet out there. Hiatus is so looooong.

NOT TODAY THOUGH!!!!

Today was an Olicity Marketing Blitz day and boy it was fun. About damn time.

Stephen and Emily were playing together on Twitter.

The CW Network was promoting Olicity on TWITTER.

And Marc did a big interview with EW. There were lots of goodies!

Today was the marketing equivalent of an ex sending flowers.

They are sorry fandom. Here comes the woo.

So, I wanted to talk a bit about the interview with Marc. There so many times I talk about interviews when they seem negative or are negative. I thought it’d be a nice change of pace to focus on a really great interview! As usual I have lots of thoughts...

I’m going to address the questions/answers I found most interesting.

ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY: Now that Oliver knows Prometheus’ vendetta is personal, what’s his next move?

MARC GUGGENHEIM: He learned two critical things in the midseason finale that will help him track down and identify Prometheus: He learned that Prometheus and he share a trainer, and he learned that Prometheus obviously was Justin Claybourne’s illegitimate son. That gives him two good clue trails to be following. He’ll be doing that in fits and starts as the season kicks back up.

Prometheus is OBVIOUSLY Justin Claybourne’s illegitimate son?

I readily accept this is probably wishful thinking on my part, but isn’t that part of the problem? That it’s so freaking obvious that it’s too obvious? Marc’s use of the word “obvious” feels like a hard sell to me. I don’t buy this Justin Claybourne backstory. No sir. Ashes and a baby picture and TA DA????? No. I’m calling shenanigans. There’s more to this. I sense a misdirect.

How does Prometheus force Oliver to reassess his decisions?

This goes to the larger arc of the year, which is Oliver questioning the consequences of his actions in general. What has been the prevailing theme of the season is Oliver is trying to grow and develop as a person, but the actions of his past keep literally haunting him, so it’s going to affect Oliver in a very big way going forward for the rest of the year.

I could meta on this alone, so prep for a long answer. I feel like this is Marc speak for “Oliver is becoming the light.” In reality, what season hasn’t Oliver’s darkness or past haunted him in some way? Pretty much every season right? The point of this season is trying to move him across the finish line of this five year journey. Part of that process is regression. We watch Oliver regress every season. In fact, his development as a hero and as a man has been a painfully slow (and frustrating) process. It’s one of the reasons I’m excited to drop this five year arc because I think it will free Arrow up a bit narratively.

However, this season has seen a lot of emotional progress from Oliver. He’s inherently more hopeful. He’s been more TRUTHFUL. The one area Arrow hit the rewind button on a bit is the kill/no kill vow because they wanted Oliver’s evolution in that department to be a bit more pronounced. This started in Season 4, with Laurel’s death and killing Damien Darhk. In the season where Oliver was trying to live in the light, he chose to kill. Doesn’t necessarily make his choice wrong. Damien Darhk was seriously evil. Nukes = bad news. But it does provide a layer of “grey” in the development of his moral code.

This season, the Big Bad is literally a creation from Oliver killing. That’s intentional. Arrow has often used the kill/no kill philosophy as a metaphor for Oliver’s evolving morality. They stuck him in a squarely grey zone at the beginning of the season because I think they want him to end this year with a much firmer moral code.

That’s not to say that Oliver will never kill again - because yes there are bad guys who need to be killed. But they specifically echoed the first kill in the pilot. Thea even argued with Oliver over the necessity of killing that man in 5x01. She specifically didn’t join the team because she wasn’t prepared to do “whatever it takes” like Oliver now is (because of Laurel’s death).

Oliver strongly feels that he needs to kill Prometheus - as will Felicity. So, this is going to be a nice push/pull effect on him and part of that process is seeing the effect the “Darkness” is having on his loved ones (Felicity & Diggle). It may ultimately push Oliver to a point where he’s toeing a much brighter line. Different in a way than Season 2, because a moral code is bigger than just killing or not killing. But I think Oliver will reach for the moral high ground in a way he never has before because he HAS to. Those he loves need him to because they are losing their own way.

How different is Talia to Nyssa al Ghul (Katrina Law)?

She’s definitely her own person; she’s not a Nyssa clone, by any stretch. You can definitely sense a familial resemblance. Having Ra’s al Ghul as your dad, it’s likely to forge a very specific kind of person. They’re close enough and different enough that I would love, at some point, to do a story with Nyssa and Talia. I think that would be a lot of fun.

Just gonna say I am excited about Talia. My Batman adoration demands it.

Can you talk about how the team will react to Laurel’s return?

I would say they react pretty positively. Obviously, this is wonderful news. We have a very good explanation as to how Laurel returned. The team is, by and large, pretty happy. Bear in mind, there are a few members of the team that didn’t know Laurel, so it’s fun to see their reaction, especially when they learn that time travel played a role in it.

Isn’t it cute when Marc blatantly ignores that the promo department ruined his episode?

Again, another misdirect. I think in a similar vein to the “obviously.” It’s not Laurel. It’s Black Siren. Sure, time travel had something to do with it, but it’s not bringing Laurel back. To all those worrying that somehow this is a huge redemption storyline for Black Siren and they are bringing Katie back...

Listen... if they wanted Katie on the show they wouldn’t be hiring a new BC. That’s just the ugly truth. Furthermore, they are trying to launch the new BC which gets tricky if Katie is around every few episodes. My bet? They used this guest contract to bridge the gap between LL and the new BC for the comic purists in hopes they could draw them back in. Anywho, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Arrow side of her contract is closing out and they shift her to Legends for a couple guest spots.

What can you tease for Felicity moving forward? She wants revenge on Prometheus over the death of Malone (Tyler Ritter), so how dark will she go and how far will she go to get it?

This is something we went into the season with. At the beginning of every year, we figure out: What do we want to see our characters go through? What are their emotional journeys for the season? We were intrigued by the idea of Felicity flirting with the dark side. The reason I say flirting is Felicity is very much the light of the show; she provides a lot of lightness in what is otherwise a very dark drama. One thing you don’t want to do is you don’t want to tell a story where she suddenly starts becoming this dark element. You don’t want to tell a story where all the reasons why people love the character are gone. It’s this delicate balancing act.

In the wake of Malone’s death, she’s very influenced by her prior four years of watching Oliver and Diggle — and Laurel, Roy (Colton Haynes), and Thea (Willa Holland) for that matter. She’s been watching Team Arrow respond to darkness with what I would describe as moral compromise. What we’ve done is we’ve found a story where Felicity could be tempted by taking moral shortcuts in the name of the greater good, which is very much in keeping with the central dilemma at the heart of the whole show, which is becoming judge, jury, and executioner is the ultimate moral shortcut. She’s not going to become judge, jury, and executioner, she’s not going to become a killer, but we found the Felicity version, or the Felicity equivalent, of making a moral compromise in order to accomplish good.

Many have heard me complain about Arrow’s “Don’t Mess With The Rainbow” mentality when it comes to Felicity and this entire answer makes me feel a lot better. I think it strikes the perfect balance. First, it seems Arrow is recognizing that Felicity has been through a lot (DUH) and they really haven’t allowed her experience the effects of those events on a big level (also duh). It seems they are going there. FINALLY. It’s time. It needs to happen. I am thrilled.

BUT... we don’t need Felicity to be Oliver’s version of dark. Or Diggle’s. Or Laurel’s. Or Thea’s. We need Felicity��s version of dark to be like everything else with this character: Felicity’s darkness should be uniquely HER.

What struck me, for the first time that I can think of, Marc came out and said “judge, jury and executioner” is wrong. This applies strongly to OTA. Oliver, obviously, has embraced the “judge, jury and executioner” mentality. Diggle, who normally was the moral compass for Oliver, chose to be “judge, jury and executioner” for Andy. Both of these men are morally justified in their actions, but Marc stating flat out that it’s a moral shut cut is extremely telling. They are pushing all the characters, not just Oliver, to be BETTER. To be heroes. Heroes draw the moral line in the sand and they HOLD TO IT. Because at the end of the day, that’s all that separates them from the bad guys and it’s what keeps them from becoming the bad guys. It’s not always easy. In fact, it’s often the much more difficult path, but it’s the right one to take.

It’s why Prometheus is having such a strong impact and why he’s the perfect villain for S5. OLIVER IS THE VILLAIN in his eyes. Oliver needs to come to a place where that perception cannot happen. Where even the bad guys cannot deny he is the light.

So, it’s essential that Felicity be pushed this darker place too. Where she is judge, jury and executioner. Where she takes moral short cuts. She’s on a hero’s journey as much as Oliver and we need to see Felicity’s moral code tested as well. But it doesn’t have to equal killing. It’ll be Felicity’s version of dark and immoral, which should strike a contrast to Oliver’s. Yes, she is so often the light, but the whole point of pushing Felicity to the dark is so that OLIVER is forced to be the light FOR HER. It’s pushing them both to a place where they absolutely need to go.

Having been through situations like this himself, will Oliver be able to help Felicity navigate this? Or is she pushing everyone away?

I don’t think she’s really pushing everyone away, but she’s definitely on her own path. The best answer to the question is it’s neither one or the other fully. Oliver for sure will be trying to — not help her — but give her some guidance. In episode 12, both Diggle and Felicity, for different reasons, are flirting with some darkness in their lives. Oliver basically, in this really great moment, tells both Felicity and Diggle, “Look, I’m basically a dark dude, I do bad things, but the ship has sailed with me. The whole reason I am aligned with you guys is because you guys are fundamentally just better people, you guys are more moral than I am.” Part of the fun of that episode is seeing how that advice to both Diggle and Felicity operates on them. It’s not necessarily going to operate on them the same way.

I’ve been harping on this concept of Oliver and Felicity walking in each other’s shoes this season. Being able to understand your partner’s perspective, in a real way, is a great catalyst for change. Thus, the shift in roles is absolutely necessary. First, this show is about Oliver Queen. He is destined to become The Green Arrow. He’s suppose to be the light for everyone and that INCLUDES FELICITY. In many ways, Felicity is echoing Oliver’s darker path in S3. It was Felicity who wanted to live life to the fullest and held the line even when Oliver lost his way. She harnessed the light within Oliver and he found his way out of the dark... and back home to her.

Now, they are shifting roles in S5. Felicity was always a voice of guidance for Oliver, but Oliver always made his own choices. I believe it will be the same for Felicity. What’s interesting about Marc’s “the ship has sailed” dialogue, is the impact that it will have on Diggle and Felicity. I predict two things: One, Diggle will toe the moral line again more immediately. Felicity will not. Diggle’s darker spiral is ending. Felicity’s is just beginning.

It’s not going to be enough for Oliver to say, “I’m a dark person. You guys are have always been better than me,” this time. That’s the status quo with Oliver and Felicity. Felicity won’t shift her behavior post 5x12, which will probably lead to whatever deception Oliver discovers in 5x15. It could push Oliver to realize that the status quo has to change. He has to set the example this time. He has to provide the guidance through action, just like Felicity has always done for him. The ship can’t sail for Oliver because that means it will have sailed for FELICITY. I don’t think Oliver can abide by that.

In the end, of course, Oliver will harness Felicity’s light just like she’s always done for him. She will find her way out of this darker place. My bet is all of this is the foundation for Smoak Technologies and she’ll find a renewed purpose in what she wants to do outside of Team Arrow, just like Oliver has found in being mayor. Seeing the change in Oliver (in action - his hopefulness, his truthfullness, being the light, etc), understanding his darkness on a deeper level because Felicity will recognize her own darkness in herself, maybe even Oliver’s forgiveness for whatever deception there is... this all leads back to one singular concept: Felicity will find her way back home to Oliver in the end. Only this time... he will be the man she’s always deserved. He’ll be ready for her in every way. It feels like they are on opposite paths, but those paths are actually a ying/yang effect. They aren’t separate. They are connected... and it all leads back to one another.

Diggle seems to be facing the consequences of being set up by his C.O. head-on now. What’s next for him?

Coming into the second half of the season, we felt a very strong impulse to basically bring the whole General Walker storyline from the beginning of the year to a conclusion. There’s a reason why we returned Diggle to prison and it’s all to set up what will be a climactic episode. We’ve dedicated basically a whole episode to resolving the General Walker storyline. What’s nice about that episode, that’s episode 12, is that it ties into Oliver’s Russia storyline, it ties into Felicity’s storyline, and it even echoes back to the Diggle storyline with his brother last season. So a lot of threads get tied together and some threads get tied up in that 12th episode.

I know many are frustrated about the lack of OTA and I understand. I’m ready for them to key up more OTA eps too. However, I look at Oliver, Diggle and Felicity as the three main leads. The fact that Arrow’s primary season arc is connected in an obvious way to all three characters gives me a lot of hope for 5B. 5A is always set up (and to a certain extent 4B). I think 5B will finally be the follow through that connectively binds these characters on completing each of their hero’s journey. Oliver isn’t the only one who is going through a five year arc. I think they are preparing to launch Arrow into a new phase come S6. That said, Diggle needs more attention so I’m glad he’ll be getting some. Sounds like 5x12 will be a HUGE OTA episode which is fantastic because it’s such an wonderful call back to one of our favorite OTA episodes of all time... the trip to Russia in 2x06.

What can you tease for the introduction of Tina Boland and what we’ll be seeing for her?

You’ll get a glimpse of her at the end of the midseason premiere. It’s funny, I don’t want to tease too much about her. There’s a lot of stuff that’s out on the internet in terms of casting breakdowns, which I hate talking about because a lot of the casting breakdowns we release are false because we know they leak. But I think we have a really wonderful character here. Juliana [Harkavy], who plays her, is a terrific actress. We’re going to be doing some new and different kinds of things. Because of the internet, I guess I’m very tempted to — as always — I’d prefer to let the story tell itself and play out, and then people can make up their minds.

It’s really interesting that Marc mentioned the leaked sides for Tina again. When they first came out he tried to pretend it was all fake, but of course, this was the casting side that was sent out to all the actresses who were auditioning for Tina. So, it became pretty obvious they weren’t fake. He also tried to pretend the character’s name wasn’t Tina. So, when the character’s name was revealed to be Tina I think many took that as a sign that these “sides” would be actual scenes in Arrow.

The reason it had so many concerned is because there was a “chemistry” read with, presumably, Oliver. Many concluded Tina will be a love interest. Also, the BC comic history reared its ugly head in combination with a subtle/back burned Olicity and its led to a lot of concern. Here’s why I think it’s interesting that Marc mentioned the sides- if these scenes show up in Arrow it’ll be very easy to point to his interview and say, “Ummm... they aren’t false.” So, I’m feeling pretty confident those exact scenes won’t be in the show. I think his larger point is that some of the assumptions the internet is making about Tina’s character, based on the sides, isn’t necessarily true and we’ll see that when the show plays out.

So, I continue to stand my belief that Tina is not a love interest for Oliver.

We know Oliver is going to end up back on that island. We know Susan Williams (Carly Pope) is investigating Oliver’s ties to Russia. How are those two storylines going to intersect as we head toward the finale this season?

There’s going to be a very cool and awesome payoff to Susan’s investigation of Oliver. That payoff is going to come sooner than you think. In other words, it’s going to come sooner than the season finale.

Susan discussion, yes, but she’s at the end of the article and it’s a blurb at best. Vast improvement promotionally speaking. Marc just flat out told us that Susan’s investigation is going to blow up BEFORE the season finale. IMDB has Carly Pope slated for 5x12, 5x14 and 5x15. Perhaps the investigation blow up is happening around these run of episodes? Especially coinciding with the Bratva focused episode in 5x12? Methinks yes.

I think some are wondering how Oliver and Felicity can “rebuild” if Susan is still around. This isn’t an either or situation in terms of storyline my friends. It can happen simultaneously and it will happen simultaneously. Think back to Ray and Sara. Oliver and Felicity were very much “building” their relationship (and where it was headed) throughout the full season WHILE they were dating other people. As Oliver and Felicity grew closer, Ray and Felicity fell apart. Sara was slightly different timing wise, but she imploded around the mid season as well, with Oliver finding his way to Felicity in the end. It is possible for Arrow to “rebuild” Olicity while Susan Williams is sharing screen time with Oliver. Susan can be playing a role in that rebuild in her, ultimately, failed relationship with Oliver and what it will teach him. Think of it as multiple lanes of traffic eventually converging into a single lane. Multiple storylines eventually push to one singular end. That’s what is happening this year. That is what happens every year. ALL ROADS LEAD TO OLICITY.

So don’t fret about when Susan is leaving or when she and Oliver will be done. They will be done. She will leave. It will happen. Understandable if you don’t enjoy the storyline and would rather it be sooner than later, but the end result is still the same.

Psst... did you notice? Not a word about the newbies other than Tina. Nice change in pace! All in all... I am very pumped for the rest of the season!!

#arrow #olicity #arrow spoilers #spoiler theoretical #felicity smoak #original team arrow #john diggle #oliver queen #arrow 5x12 #susan williams #tina boland #anti katie cassidy #anti laurel lance #arrow interviews

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mrmichaelchadler · 5 years

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Bright Wall/Dark Room April 2019: Religious Cinema for Non-Believers: Scorsese's Silence

We are pleased to offer an excerpt from the April issue of the online magazine, Bright Wall/Dark Room. Their latest issue is about long movies (150 minutes or more). In addition to Joel Mayward's essay below on Martin Scorsese's "Silence," the issue also includes new essays on "Magnolia," "Lord of the Rings: Return of the King," "Funny People," "Inherent Vice," "Star!", "The Last Emperor," "Laurence Anyways," "Sátántangó," "The Emigrants," and more.

You can read our previous excerpts from the magazine by clicking here. To subscribe to Bright Wall/Dark Room, or look at their most recent essays, click here.

In the beginning, there is only darkness. Crickets chirp and cicadas buzz. There is some small comfort in the auditory, a living hum in the blackness and blindness. Through the void, the sounds of nature build and crescendo, peaking to an almost unbearable cacophony until…

Silence.

Everything is in a fog. Steam and smoke swirl in the blue-grey as our eyes adjust and hints of a human silhouette come into view. A powerful warrior stands before us; our eyes adjust further, and we realize he is adjacent to a type of wooden altar, upon which lie two ambiguous spheres. As we get our visual bearings, we recognize in horror what we are seeing: severed human heads.

The clouds of steam continue to billow through a wide shot of the craggy cliffs, obscuring our view of the various human figures dotting the foreign landscape of patchy grass and bubbling pools. A line of guards marches slowly into view; there follows a patient dissolve, nearly imperceptible in the mist. Then, a man’s back is before us, a prisoner priest helplessly witnessing a cadre of Japanese warriors torture five Portuguese Jesuit missionaries. They pour boiling water from the steaming hot springs onto the Christians’ exposed skin. We hear a voice, a narrated letter sent from the captured priest to any listening followers of Christ beyond Japan. The hopeful epistolary narration—“We only grow stronger in His love”—is a stark contrast to the image of the quivering Father Ferreira (Liam Neeson) in the mud, on his knees out of surrender and despair.

So begins Martin Scorsese’s Silence, an adaptation of Shūsaku Endō’s 1966 novel of the same title and Scorsese’s long-awaited (and underappreciated) passion project. The third of Scorsese’s unofficial trilogy about crises of faith following The Last Temptation of Christ and Kundun, Silence is certainly religious cinema, but it is not a “faith-based film,” nor in the transcendental style of his Last Temptation collaborator, Paul Schrader. It is about entering into the cloud of unknowing, the dark night of the soul, listening to the silence of God and waiting eternally for a response. It is a long movie and a movie of longing. It is both prayerful and profane. In the words of philosopher Richard Kearney, Silence is anatheistic—it is about the lingering question of God after you no longer believe in God, a faith beyond faith. The ana- prefix indicates an afterward, a return, not a synthesis of theism and atheism but a radical openness beyond the binary, what Jacques Derrida calls “religion without religion.” In other words, Silence is religious cinema for our secular age.

In our post-postmodern era, there is a notable rise of the religious “nones” even as there is also a “religious turn” in Western academia and the public sphere—as a society, we are becoming both more and less religious all at once. The 2016 presidential election is indicative of this divided phenomenon as 81% of white American evangelicals voted for Trump, while seven in 10 religious “nones” voted for Clinton. It was not only a crisis of politics, it was also a crisis of faith, particularly as many non-rightwing evangelicals (now “exvangelicals”) found themselves without a clear religious identity, exiles wandering in a secularized religious landscape.

Merely weeks after the election, Scorsese’s Silence quietly slipped into North American theaters with very little notice. Despite near-universal critical acclaim, audiences just didn’t turn out for it; with its $46 million budget, Silence grossed a meager $7.1 million domestically. Where Last Temptation provoked angry protests and boycotts from church groups, Silence elicited mostly muted indifference. Religious audiences may have been uneasy about the film’s doctrinal ambiguities and disturbing violence, while non-believing audiences perhaps couldn’t believe in the religious traditions and tribulations (especially why stepping on the fumi-e would be a such big deal to a priest). Silence appeared too pious for non-believers and too sacrilegious for believers.

But this is precisely how Scorsese has been operating for his entire career as a filmmaker. The opening shot of his first feature film, Who’s That Knocking at My Door, is a close-up of a statue of the Madonna and Child sitting in a New York apartment kitchen, and Scorsese once confessed, “My whole life has been movies and religion. That's it. Nothing else.” Even as his cinematic style and personal theology have developed and matured over the decades, Scorsese has always been breaking down the transcendent-immanent divide in his underlying theological queries and quest for redemption, uniting the sacred and profane, the religious and secular. He says it himself in Mean Streets: “You don't make up for your sins in church. You do it in the streets.” Or in the brothels, the casinos, the boxing rings, the prisons—even in 17th-century Japan.

Ferreira’s letter reaches the ears of two young priests, Rodrigues (Andrew Garfield) and Garupe (Adam Driver), who wish to go to Japan to find their mentor and continue the good work of spreading the gospel of Christianity. They debate the merits and plausibility of this quest with Father Valignano (Ciarán Hinds), who remains reluctant. There are rumors that Ferreira has apostatized and forsaken the faith, that the seed of Christianity cannot take root in this “swamp” of a country, as Ferreira later describes it. This is enough to make Valignano doubt the validity of any more missions. But the idealist young priests cannot give up on their spiritual father. They are so sure, so certain of God’s providence in the matter. With romantic missionary zeal, Rodrigues and Garupe convince Father Valignano to send them to Japan.

There follows an impressive overhead fisheye shot of the three priests descending a flight of white marble stairs as they discuss their mission. In theologically-laden cinematic terminology, this is a “God’s eye view,” a removed above-it-all vantage point looking directly downward, as if an invisible divine presence were watching the characters and actions below. Scorsese absolutely loves this shot—it’s present in every film he’s ever made, perhaps as a silent tribute to his own Roman Catholic upbringing and earlier seminarian longings. Yet I think it’s more than mere auteurist technique—Scorsese is subtly drawing our attention to the transcendent via his cinematography, the Spirit hovering over the waters of our chaotic world. Whether it is Travis Bickle or Henry Hill or Billy Costigan or Jordan Belfort, Scorsese has always been asking through his movies: Is there a God silently watching us? Is there any moral judge or divine comfort beyond this mortal coil? It’s as if cinema is Scorsese’s mode of theological inquiry—he is doing theology via his movies, not just depicting it. In an interview with Deadline about Silence, Scorsese says the following about this theological drive:

“Questions, answers, loss of the answer again and more questions, and this is what really interests me. Yes, the Cinema and the people in my life and my family are most important, but ultimately as you get older, there’s got to be more. Much, much more. The very nature of secularism right now is really fascinating to me, but at the same time do you wipe away what could be more enriching in your life, which is an appreciation or some sort of search for that which is spiritual and transcends?”

There is a both-and approach to the religious and secular with Scorsese, this blurring of categories as he searches for God while acknowledging that the faith of his childhood is gone. He continues: “There are no answers. We all know that. You try to live in the grace that you can. But there are no answers, but the point is, you keep looking.”

You keep looking. This is precisely what Scorsese’s camera does in Silence. It continues to look into the lives (and deaths) of 17th-century Jesuit priests and Japanese Kirishitans, peering directly into the in-between space of belief and doubt. In the sacred-secular divide, Scorsese makes his home within the hyphen.

If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you. But when you ask, you must believe and not doubt, because the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind.

–James 1:5-6

Many significant moments in Silence occur on beaches, the meeting of sand and sea, the liminal space between the security of dry ground and the relentless undulation of the waves. The biblical book of James describes the latter as akin to doubt, that tumultuous spiritual anxiety which keeps us up at night, wondering. Scorsese the hyphen-dweller places significant narrative crises in Silence on these shorelines, where the solidity of belief is repeatedly washed over by liquid uncertainty.

When Rodrigues and Garupe arrive on the shores of Japan, they initially take shelter in a cave as they wait for Kichijiro (Yosuke Kubozuka), an apostate and the priests’ cowardly Japanese host. This same seaside cave frames the Japanese soldiers and the inquisitor Inoue (Issei Ogata) as they bear witness to the deaths of three Kirishitans hung on crosses in the pounding surf. The cinematic image of the ocean crucifixion is paradoxically horrific and beautiful, the painterly framing honoring these martyrs even as we wonder whether anything is worth this cost. The villagers and priests silently bear witness as the believers’ lives slip away due to exposure to the wind and waves; the Japanese burn the bodies on a pyre, the smoke rising like that from a religious altar. We learn that Kichijiro’s family came to a similar fate on the edge of the sea, burned alive as he publicly recanted.

Rodrigues and Garupe choose to separate in order to hide from the Japanese authorities and possibly spare the villagers from further persecution. Traveling by boat, Rodrigues arrives at Kichijiro’s home village, Gotō, to find it derelict and deserted. Climbing from the boat into the waves, the sounds of nature—the same sounds as the opening title sequence—suddenly break through and fill the soundscape as Rodrigues makes his way to shore. In a striking image, Rodrigues is centered in the frame as he (and we) take in the view of the silent town, overrun with stray cats. As Rodrigues enters a home to lap up water, the camera slowly wanders out an open window in a shot echoing Taxi Driver’s phone call scene with the empty hallway, signifying the abject loneliness of the priest. There is no one listening. Despondent, the priest wonders what we, too, wonder: What am I doing here?

Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence.

–1 Kings 19:11-12

Wandering in the misty mountains of Japan, Rodrigues is akin to the prophet Elijah in the wilderness, a believer experiencing the pangs of unbelief. Curled up under a rocky overhang like Elijah was curled under a desert broom tree, the priest’s faith in his mission and his God is no longer so solid. A series of quick dissolves indicate his fractured psyche as he silently pleads with God: “I pray but I am lost. Or am I just praying to nothing? Nothing, because you are not there?”

But God appears. Or, at least the image of Christ manifests in the muddy river waters (another shoreline) just before Rodrigues is betrayed by Kichijiro to the Japanese inquisitors. In a (quite literally) narcissistic move, the exhausted priest sees a vision of the face of Christ in his own reflection, prompting a maniacal laugh before he is captured. The face of Christ in Silence is an adaptation of a 16th-century painting by El Greco, St. Veronica with the Holy Shroud. Traditionally, Saint Veronica offered the struggling Christ her cloth to wipe his brow as he carried the cross to Calvary; when she received the cloth back, the exact image of his face was miraculously impressed into it. I find the shroud’s parallels to celluloid and cinema striking, how an image is imprinted onto the film, creating new meanings. I love how Scorsese deliberately chose this painting of a cloth—an image of an image—to portray his mediated Christ. Like cinema, it generates remarkable empathy and emotion even as there is always a mediated distance—we are always seeing through someone else’s perspective, a vision of the viewed, an alluring aloofness. The mediated Christ of Silence will not speak in the traditional ways of Biblical epics or like Willem Dafoe’s crazed Jesus in Last Temptation, with drama and fervor, gusto and glory, earthquakes and fire. No, if this Christ speaks—and he will—it will be in the sound of sheer silence.

Rodrigues is captured near the exact midway mark of Silence. The film’s second half plays out like an extended courtroom drama as the priest is tried and tested before the inquisitor Inoue and his unnamed translator (Tadanobu Asano). The Japanese make the priest’s life relatively comfortable; though imprisoned, he is allowed to pray the rosary and gather with the Japanese Kirishitans for worship. The wooden cage becomes a confessional, the parallel bars framing the characters’ bodies. In a scene where the Japanese Kirishitans are put forward to step on the fumi-e, the camera remains inside the cage with Rodrigues—we, too, are prisoners watching through the slats, our vision slightly obscured by the vertical divisions which cannot be overcome.

Inoue’s strategy is to compel Rodrigues to recant his faith by torturing the Japanese converts until he does. It is a patient technique, and Scorsese’s pacing and editing incarnate this approach, taking time with the images and ideas presented so that we can truly wrestle with their moral and mortal implications. In yet another shoreline scene, Rodrigues is taken to a beach to witness Garupe from a distance as guards take three prisoner converts and drown them off-shore. Unable to communicate with his fellow priest, Rodrigues (and we) watch helplessly as the emaciated Garupe refuses to apostatize and flings himself into the surf in a desperate attempt to save the victims, drowning in the process. “Terrible business!” the interpreter screams at Rodrigues. “Think about the suffering you have inflicted on these people, just because of your selfish dream of a Christian Japan. Your Deus punishes Japan through you!”

How are we to respond to this? Who is in the wrong: the Japanese inquisitors who torture and kill the Kirishitans and priests, or the European Christians who arrive uninvited and ignore the Japanese cultural heritage in the name of conversion? Why are human beings capable of such cruelty to one another in the name of religion? Why do people suffer and God remains silent? Silence does not offer us simple, black-and-white answers. It demands that we wade into the suffering and sit with it. Yet Rodrigues initially cannot do this—he always has an argument, an answer, a position, a system, a Truth he will clutch tightly in his hands and heart until he is finally able to let go.

My ears had heard of you but now my eyes have seen you. Therefore I despise myself and repent in dust and ashes.

–Job 42:5-6

“Come ahead now. It’s all right. Step on me. I understand your pain. I was born into this world to share men’s pain. I carried this cross for your pain. Your life is with me now. Step.”

In the silence, we hear the calming voice of Christ speak these words to Rodrigues through the fumi-e. Though uncredited, the voice we hear must be Ciarán Hinds, who earlier portrayed Father Valignano. Scorsese’s choice to have Hinds’ voice speak to Rodrigues (and to us) in this climactic scene creates a remarkable ambiguity and tension. Are we to believe this is the actual voice of God, a figment of Rodrigues’ imagination, or some combination therein? For those who believe the former, isn’t it possible that an emotionally-distraught person is merely hearing voices conjured from his broken psyche? For those who believe the latter, isn’t it possible for a divine person (if such a person could exist) to speak in whatever manner desired, especially if the voice were familiar and brought comfort to the hearer? Are you open to the impossible becoming possible, whether toward belief or unbelief? Silence invites us into this liminal uncertainty, asking us not to disbelieve or believe, but to simply be in this unresolved tension and not speak. Step.

He steps. There is absolute silence as Rodrigues places his foot on the fumi-e and his body collapses in slow motion to the dust. He has seen the face of God fade from view, and he will never be the same again.

As the sound returns and the five Japanese victims are raised from the torture pit, we hear the faint but distinct sound of a rooster crowing, an allusion to the Apostle Peter’s threefold denial of Christ. Years later, after Rodrigues has renounced the Christian faith numerous times over, Silence shows us a conversation between the fallen priest and Kichijiro. The Japanese man whispers, “Padre…Please hear my confession.” Rodrigues initially refuses, but as Kichijiro bows before him in penitence, the sound drops out and we hear the fallen priest’s narrated prayer in a whisper: “Lord, I fought against your silence.”

Suddenly, the voice of Christ breaks through: “I suffered beside you. I was never silent.” There is no face, no fumi-e, no vision. Only a voice.

“I know,” confesses Rodrigues. “But even if God had been silent my whole life”—Rodrigues is now speaking this aloud to Kichijiro, to himself, to God?—“to this very day, everything I do, everything I've done...Speaks of him.” A pause. “It was in the silence that I heard your voice.” Then Rodrigues kneels, his forehead pressed to Kichijiro’s, the two men nearly symmetrical in the frame as the camera lingers on their weeping bodies.

In the final shot of the film, the body of the deceased and apostate Rodrigues burns on a Buddhist pyre, the rising white smoke echoing the misty fog of the opening scene. Beginning in a wide shot of the flames, Scorsese’s camera patiently zooms forward through the fire until it rests on a small crucifix clutched in Rodrigues’ hands, placed there by his Japanese widow. This is one of the only moments in Silence not found in Endo’s novel, which concludes on a much more ambiguous note. Scorsese has included a symbol of belief in his adaptation, perhaps to indicate the priest’s futile existence as a Christian, or possibly as a material witness to the glimmer of faith which is possible for anyone and everyone.

On my first viewing of Silence, I identified with Rodrigues. I admired his spiritual and pastoral fervor, his apparent willingness to go to the ends of the earth for his beliefs. Rodrigues sees his story as parallel to Christ’s own Passion. Yet in this I also saw his pride; as Ferreira tells him, “You see Jesus in Gethsemane and believe your trial is the same as his” but the Japanese Kirishitans “would never compare themselves to Jesus.” Rodrigues arrives in Japan with all the right answers, telling the villagers what to do—go find more Christians in other villages!—without listening or learning of their culture and lifestyle. He sees himself as above them; he is a literal white savior on a mission with what he believes is the Truth, capital T. “The truth is universal. That’s why it’s called the truth,” he tells Inoue. I, too, used to be this adamant about having the corner market on the Truth. But what I first saw as conviction I now see as arrogance. To embrace dogmatic belief systems and ideologies—whether religious or secular—and ignore all other possibilities as inherently false is to live a blinkered existence.

On my second viewing of Silence, I identified with Kichijiro, the misfit Japanese Kirishitan who lives in a constant cycle of apostasy and faithfulness. He steps on the fumi-e repeatedly, and with little hesitation; it becomes pathetic, even comical. He follows Rodrigues like the Apostle Peter followed Christ the night he was arrested, lurking and cowering, unwilling to put his life on the line yet unable to pull himself wholly away from the faith. Kichijiro would never draw a parallel between himself and Christ like Rodrigues does; he knows he is too great of a sinner for that. He is humus, Latin for “dirt” or “earth,” our root word for both “humility” and “humiliation.” Yet he returns again, ana, wagering that there is yet grace to be found in this world. I am Kichijiro; I am daily failing forward in my own faith, only certain of my uncertainty as I yearn for possible glimpses of the transcendent.

On my third viewing of Silence, I identified with Scorsese. I was aware of his silent presence throughout the film, his cinematic vision and voice imbuing every scene with a sense of the sacred, the sacramental, the holy. Silence is neither praising nor condemning either the Roman Catholic Church or the Japanese culture, but it is also not neutral or uncaring. It provokes a judgment in its audience; we are not permitted to just sit back, silently watch, and do nothing. Silence invites us into a fictional world and asks us to consider the deepest questions of human existence while recognizing (as Scorsese admits) there are no absolute answers—we simply try to live in the grace that we can.

In Jesuit spirituality, there is an exercise called imaginative prayer, using one’s imagination to place oneself in a biblical scene in order to more fully enter into communion with the story. Perhaps Silence can be considered an act of cinematic Ignatian contemplation, a sensory imagistic experience of meditative and mediated prayer. Scorsese imbues his film with personal, pastoral care; one might even call it love. Whether you are a staunch believer or a die-hard atheist, Silence will lovingly challenge you to imagine the possibility of Another Way. I believe the post-secular pilgrims of our world—the religious nones, the anatheists, the spiritual misfits—may find a home in the Church of Cinema, with Scorsese as our priest.

from All Content http://bit.ly/2GsW07P

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tipsycad147 · 5 years

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3 Ways To Use Magic For The Zodiac: Libra

SL Bear

Libras are an interesting mix. They like the finer things and appreciate beauty, but are often categorise as superficial. They are heavily concerned with justice and fairness, but they are motivated to keep the peace above all — the ultimate people pleasers. This makes Libra indecisive when it comes to choosing sides and fearful of confrontation. While they are labelled good mediators, they hold grudges like a dog with a bone and can be swayed easily, especially if they believe it means a faster path to harmony. In essence, Libras are incredibly sweet, down to Earth people who just want a little peace and quiet. Things get tricky for them when other people are involved, which is unavoidable — unlike some other signs, Libras are very social beings.

Looking To The Wind

Because Libras are all about balance and harmony, I wanted to honor this when creating some magic for their birthday. Though Libras can be indecisive, it’s only because they want to make sure they’ve done things right. They want to make the moral choice, that also makes the most people happy. This is a hard thing for anyone, but Libras take this responsibility very seriously.

What you will need:

A small piece of blue material

A stick and a way to affix the material to the stick

A blue candle

A tarot deck

Alternative: A coin and some blue paint

Libra is an air sign so it’s important to bring this element into your magic because it’ll work well with you. For this magic, you’ll be using wind so wait for a breezy day before starting.

To begin, make a small flag out of your materials, then plant it somewhere outside where you can see it from a window. Light a blue candle, shuffle your tarot deck, and draw two cards. Place these cards side by side in front of the blue candle. The card on your right represents the situation you’re having difficulty with — the problem that needs a decision — and the card on the left represents your role in this situation. While you’ve probably already spent a lot of time thinking about this decision, and weighing all sides, something is keeping you from reaching a clear yes or no. This is where the flag comes in. Trust your intuition! You already know the right thing to do, so no more vacillating. Whichever way you’re leaning toward more, take a moment and ask aloud “am I making the right choice?” Then take both of the tarot cards in your hand and look outside at the flag. If it blows east, the answer is yes. If it blows to the west, your answer is no.

Alternatively, you may not have time to wait for a windy day or for whatever reason, a flag is not possible. No worries! Paint a coin (a quarter will work best) blue and mark one side with the Libra glyph, which is a symbol for balance. Instead of looking outside at the flag after reading the cards, flip the coin high in the air. Heads (the side with the Libra glyph) is yes, and tails is a no. You can keep this coin with you and ask it simple yes or no questions whenever indecision strikes.

Pomme d’Amour

Libras are connected to the planet Venus, as well as the goddess. Because of this, Libras are ruled by a desire to find lasting love and a partner who will support them through thick and thin. While they may not necessarily seek marriage, the concept of marriage and union is closely tied to Libra’s symbolism.

This spell is meant to draw out a fitting partner for Libra!

What you will need:

A green (unripened) cherry tomato

Rose petals

A banana

A paper bag

A small altar

Seven red candles

This spell should be started on a Monday.

To begin, create a sigil based on the traits you’d like to see in a partner. Keep it specific “My partner is _____” and add as many adjectives as you’d like. Once your sigil is complete, draw it on the paper bag.

The altar doesn’t have to be as big and special as your regular altar, it’s just a space where everything can sit without being disturbed. Tomatoes are sacred to Libras, probably due to their association with love and Venus. There are also stories of tomatoes being powerful aphrodisiacs, which make them a perfect fit for this spell. Place the candles in a circle and then pop the tomato into the paper bag with the banana and nest this in the centre of your circle. Please space everything carefully so there’s no chance of the paper bag catching fire!

In the space between the bag and the candles, sprinkle your rose petals. This spell will be performed over a week so don’t be alarmed when the petals start to dry — that’s perfectly fine.

At the beginning of the week, once everything is set up, light the candle just to the right of the candle at the very top of the circle, or the candle at the 1 o’clock position. Recite the first line of the incantation. For each following day of the week, moving clockwise around the circle of candles, say the corresponding line of the incantation and light the next candle in the circle, along with all the preceding candles you lit the days before. I recommend letting the candles burn for at least a half hour every day, but feel free to let them burn longer if you like!

On the seventh day, all your candles will be lit and you’ll recite the last line of the spell. Remove the tomato from the bag and tear away the paper round the sigil, so it’s small enough to burn, then activate your sigil with the flame of Sunday’s candle. Save the ashes of the sigil, mix it with the rose petals and set them in your hand. Go outside and blow this mixture to the east.

If the tomato isn’t ripe yet, it’s okay, there’s no time limit on it. However, when it does ripen, use this tomato to make something delicious and share it with a friend or family member who could use a pick-me-up. This is a gesture of kindness and love which hopefully will come back to you!

Libra love spell incantation:

Monday: I send the call out on the wind

Tuesday: And it will come back again

Wednesday: Love built to last and stronger still

Thursday: Than summer sun or winter chill

Friday: Venus, please find them for me

Saturday: And make them beautiful to see

Sunday: I sent the call out on the wind, and now I bring them home again

You may substitute whatever pronouns you’d like here, of course.

Aeolian Force

Though water is by far the most powerful way that our landscape is shaped, wind is a force of change as well. It blows the terrain away or blasts sand and dirt against surfaces thus eroding them over time. This is called the Aeolian process and it’s seen primarily in sparse regions like deserts and areas with little vegetation. It creates smooth, bizarre rock formations and gorgeous dunes. For this spell, we’re going to use it to bury an old grudge.

Libras don’t let go of past insults easily, but holding onto the past — which can never be changed — is unhelpful. Not because you should forgive everyone always and hug instead, but because focusing on anything negative for too long is bad for you. It’s nonproductive for your life. So what do you do? You blow it away.

What you will need:

Sand

Mint

A wooden stick (or any tool handy that can be used as a writing instrument)

You can perform this spell two ways: Go somewhere with a lot of sand or, if that’s not possible, just grab some from the craft store and put it onto a container. Add a little mint to the sand, then with your stick, write out the thing you can’t let go of, or the name of the person who wronged you. It’s hard to write in sand, so keep it short. Let this sit overnight and while it rests, use this time to think about why this action bothered you so much. Think about why holding onto this blip in your past serves you. Does it? Does the person still think about it, or are you the only one that hasn’t moved on? The point is to realize that when you let go of something, it stops having power over you. Instead of negatively affecting you, it disappears into the past.

In the morning, return to the sand and blow onto the surface until you’ve made the words disappear. As you do, imagine you’re wiping it from your memory. This might take a minute, but that’s good. It will give you more time to meditate on why taking this step is the right thing to do.

Libras are complicated; elegant yet down to earth, fair but deeply concerned with making sure everyone’s needs are met. For your birthday, take some time for yourself and celebrate the many facets of your personality — there’s no one quite like you, Libra!

Do you know how to enhance your magic, improve your intent, and get kick ass results from your spells all at once?

If you don’t, then you need to be utilising the amazing energy structure inherent to the human magical system. Tapping into this energy system allows you to understand the magic you’re using on a far deeper level and achieve results that will blow your mind.

In The Witch’s Energy System, I’ll break down the entire system into easy to use pieces so that you can learn to see, feel, and make use of this energy in a way that will completely change how you view your own magic.

Learn More Here >>

https://thetravelingwitch.com/blog/2018/8/26/3-ways-to-use-magic-for-the-zodiac-libra

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tipsycad147 · 5 years

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White magick, black magick: What’s the difference?

Posted by Michelle Gruben on Mar 28, 2017

“I’m a white Witch. He practices black magick.” If you spend enough time in witchy company, you’re sure to come across some discussion of shades and tints of magick. But what do these terms really mean? What beliefs and ideas do they encompass? And, more to the point, is there really a distinction between white magick (good) and black magick (evil)?

Before I launch into the whole white/black magick taxonomy, I should acknowledge that these terms have fallen out of favour in recent decades. Few contemporary Witches really use them to describe their practice. You can blame creeping moral relativism for the shift, but there’s really more to it than that.

Try it. Bring up black/white magick at a gathering of Witches, and count the mere seconds until someone blandly recites, “Magick is neither good nor bad, it’s your intention that counts.” Then someone else will pipe up and make an analogy between magick and a knife (or box of matches). A third person will add that the words “black” and “white” have an implicit racial bias, and shouldn’t be used to describe morality all. A chorus of Witches will chime in that “white magick” and “black magick” are reductive, insensitive, and outdated terms.

Magick is a tool that can be used for good or evil. It’s your intention that matters. Sure, it’s a loathsome cliche. But it does neatly sum up how many Witches feel about the ethical status of magickal work. That’s another way of saying that any spell or working that’s done with good intentions is white magick.

Is it ever that simple? Of course not! Why? Because human intentions are never that simple. But, when you’re explaining to your grandma why witchcraft isn’t Devil worship, I suppose it’s enough.

I could stop right there, but my psychic powers tell me that some of you won’t be satisfied with such a glib answer. So let’s drill down a little further into the “colours” of magick.

The history of an idea

While the dichotomy of white versus black magick may be out of fashion at the moment, it’s not going away anytime soon. This concept can be traced all the way back to the earliest medieval writers on occultism. Though nobody likes to admit it, the entire Western esoteric tradition is built on a foundation of medieval magick. (And that includes a framework of Judaeo-Christian cosmology.) Even Wicca has never really escaped the long shadow of Jehovah. Trying to extract the medieval worldview from Western occultism is a bit like boning out a whole chicken: The end result may be more palatable, but also rather flat and wobbly.

The 12th and 13th centuries were a very exciting period of magickal discovery. Ancient traditions of geometry, astronomy, proto-chemistry, written language, and image-making were being rediscovered after getting buried during Europe’s Dark Ages. The medieval grimoires rushed to synthesise all this knowledge into a comprehensive map of all Creation. Fuelling it all was a yearning to match the massive achievements of the Classical world.

Nostalgia for ancient times is something that many Witches and polytheists can relate to. And while we might be tempted think of the Pagan empires—Egypt, Greece, and Rome—as being happy magickal paradises, some of that is wishful thinking. State-sanctioned magick was basically limited to oracles and priests of the gods. Most ancient legal codes contain laws against witchcraft—including sorcery, necromancy and poisoning.

It’s not always spelled out in black and white (heh), but as long as magick has existed, there have been legal and social rules governing its use. Early civilizations did distinguish between approved and unapproved types of magick. Acceptable types—like augury and healing—were usually practised under the sponsorship of some deity. As far as personal magick, you might ask Ra to punish your enemies or pray to Diana for fertility. Maybe you’d even sweeten the pot with a generous gift or carefully made tablet or talisman.

But that was as far as it was safe to go. You made your offerings, and you prayed to the gods for omens or favours. If you didn’t get your way, one can presume, you upped the ante and tried again. Anyone caught trying to manipulate the natural order of things through forbidden arts was distrusted as the worst type of criminal.

If you think about witchcraft laws from a sociopolitical point of view, they make a lot more sense. Kings and priests don’t want their authority undermined by every hedge-witch and soothsayer in the land. They can also do without the panic and turmoil that comes along with witchcraft scares. (On the other hand, arresting a handful of Witches every now and then is a tried and true from of propaganda—a way to show you’re still in charge and fear no one.)

Things were even stricter among the People of the Book. The Old Testament forbids witchcraft explicitly. Not just harmful sorcery in this case, but also polytheism, idolatry, fortune-telling, spell-casting, astrology, and medium-ship. The scriptures demand complete trust in God, which was seen to be incompatible with occult practices. (Never mind the rumours that King Solomon himself practised magick.) For centuries, Christians and Jews shunned witchcraft as a rebellious and faithless act against God. Predictive magick, such as astrology, was rejected as an affront to free will.

So anyway, here we are in the Middle Ages and the crowning of the Western occult tradition. Reams of ancient texts are being re-discovered (or in some cases, forged). People started reading Aristotle and Pythagoras again. The Emerald Tablet, the foundational text of Hermeticism, was translated into Latin for the first time. And soon enough, new Kabbalistic writings in Arabic were lending Abrahamic legitimacy to this esoteric flood.

The rules about magick began to get fuzzy. People started to lighten up a bit. But as (mostly) Christians, they still had to tread carefully. Doing the wrong kind of magick could still get you in big, big trouble. Suddenly, it became very important to know what occult pursuits were approved by the Man Upstairs, and which would damn you to hell. (Or at least a very uncomfortable death by execution.)

Among the first to draw a line in the sand was the 13th century French bishop William of Auvergne. William rejected the earlier Christian belief that all magick is demonic. His treatises made a distinction between “natural magick” (which was allowed) and other kinds (which were not). Natural magick draws on the beneficial properties of herbs, gems, and animals. Because these powers were conferred by God, using them in the service of mankind is permissible. Unacceptable forms of magick include consulting with spirits and all types of image magick—the use of idols, signs and symbols.

Medieval thinkers started—but did not finish—the conversation about white and black magick. For the next several hundred years, ceremonial magicians try to find a way to do what they want while staying at the right hand of the Lord. Rules are bent and hairs split. Magick circles acquire even more holy initials. Occultists tease out the boundaries between theurgy and thaumaturgy, high and low magick.

During the Enlightenment, the conversation goes dormant until the occult revival of the 19th century. Magickal ethics get revisited and refined in libraries and drawing rooms—this time with the introduction of Eastern ideas, including karma. Gerald Gardner unveils Wicca to a conservative British public. Facing a major PR battle, he rebrands witchcraft as “the craft of the Wise” and promulgates the Wiccan Rede and the Threefold Law.

The modern neo-Pagan movement is born. Witchcraft’s public makeover has begun. It’s from this point on that the phrase “white magick” comes into regular use as newly minted Witches step up to defend their craft.

What is white magick?

White magick, is beneficent magick. It is performed to help or heal the magick worker or the target. White magick may include spell-casting, energy work, divination, blessings and prayer. As first described in the Middle Ages, white magick often depends on the inherent virtues of colours, herbs, or stones. Through his/her knowledge and its careful application, the white Witch harnesses the hidden power of the natural world. To this day, white magick is sometimes called “natural magick” and even “the right-hand path.”

White Witchcraft generally makes use of Earth energies and celestial energies. But not all Witches agree on the source of their powers. White Witches may draw their power from higher beings, from their own energy/will, or by capturing and directing neutral energy toward positive outcomes. Many white Witches work with deities or angels to steer their work toward its highest purpose.

Cleansing and healing are the most obvious branches of white magick. White magick also encompasses spells for friendship, peace, wisdom, creativity, dreaming, and personal growth. However, white magick is not necessarily selfless. Also, even well-intentioned spells can have negative consequences.

Many Witches consider all magick to be white magick, as long as it does not harm another. Some Witches do not see love and money spells as white magick, since they may constrain the wills of others. Protection spells may qualify as white magick if they are passive (e.g., setting up wards around a property), but not if they seek out or attack an adversary. Binding magick—even if it’s intended to prevent harm—is also usually excluded from the realm of white magick.

Contrary to what medieval magicians would have condoned, today’s white magick practitioners may contact spirits as part of their work. Communing with spirits for guidance, channelled healing, and conveying messages from departed love ones are all spiritualist practices that fit under the banner of white magick.

What is black magick?

Black magick, called “the left-hand path,” is white magick’s opposite. There are really two separate definitions of black magick swirling around: Magick intended to harm, and magick involving rebellious spirits.

The meaning of the term has been further complicated by people who label any occult practice they disapprove of as “black magick”. Workings involving the dead or the Underworld also get tossed into the black basket out of fear or misunderstanding. Voodoo and other (non-white) traditions have been exploited for decades by horror books and film—so they, too, get unfairly classified as black magick.

So, one definition of black magick would be all negative magick: Curses, hexes, psychic attack, spells to bring injury, illness, and misfortune. Negative magick can be as simple as wishing harm upon someone, or as complex as an elaborate ritual. Occult practices that seize the energy of other life forms—such as vampirism and animal sacrifice—are regarded as black magick no matter their aim.

Another, older definition of “the black arts” is magick assisted by spirits or demons. The black magician makes pacts with the devil, conjures spirits of the dead, or summons infernal beings to do his bidding. In this medieval view of black magick, it doesn’t matter much what the magician’s purpose is. (She could be summoning Azaroth to heal her sick poodle. It’s the contact itself that’s unsavoury.) Yet there are plenty of Solomonic and Goetic magicians who work with demons, and who would be mightily offended by the suggestion that what they do is black magick.

The most comprehensive way to tell the difference might be this: White magick works in harmony with nature, while black magick is against nature. Nature’s habit is to continually improve, albeit in fits and starts. Black magick seeks to undo progress through chaos and destruction. Quintessential black magick workings—raising the dead, pacts to achieve immortality—usually seek to defy the natural cycles of life, replacing them with the magician’s own selfish obsessions.

What is grey magick?

Gray magick is a term that describes ethically ambiguous magick. It first appears in occult writings in the 1960s. Also called neutral magick, grey magick is neither specifically beneficial nor hostile. It can also refer to magick in which the ends justify the means, and vice versa.

You can imagine a square in which white magick—doing good things for good reasons—is in one corner. In the opposite corner is black magick (doing bad things for bad reasons). All of the rest of the square is filled in by grey magick (doing bad things for good reasons, or doing good things for bad reasons). Gray magick exists in a continuum, from a cloudy tint to a deep shade of charcoal.

If you cast a binding spell to stop someone from bothering you, or a love-drawing spell without concern for the trail of broken hearts, you might call that grey magick. Persuasion and glamour magick are grey-ish. So is magickal power for its own sake. Money magick can be grey: If your charm to win at the gambling table causes the other players to lose, then it’s not clear that your magick has contributed to the greater good. In one sense, all magick done for self-gratification can be considered grey magick at best.

Is grey magick a real category, or a cop-out? Gray magick is one way of acknowledging that you can never know all the consequences of your magick, and that your motivations may not be as saintly as you believe them to be. However, it can also be a way of dodging responsibility—or worse yet, delaying action.

Uncle Al (Crowley) —tells us, “The first condition of success in magick is purity of purpose.” If you’re not wholly committed, the results of your magick will be so feeble that you won’t need to worry whether it’s black, white, or gray.

Other colours

Are there other colours of magick? So glad you asked! “Green magick” or “green witchcraft” refers to the herbal branches of the magickal arts. Green Witches sometimes use that phrase to emphasise their reliance on the plant kingdom. A related term is “brown magick,” which includes the magick of animal guides, animal familiars, and shapeshifting. And although it’s not common, I have heard the term “red magick” to describe the use of (consensual) bloodletting or sexual activity to raise massive amounts of energy in a hurry.

White and black magick today

Wiccans and Witches have been trying for decades to convince the public that their magick is benign—and for the most part, it’s worked. There’s more understanding and acceptance of alternative spirituality than ever before. If you tell someone you’re a Witch in my city, they’re more likely to visualize a pile of herbs and cats and crystals than some disturbing rite. It only took a thousand years, but white magick is finally dominating the cultural conversation about witchcraft.

But some Witches, it seems, do miss the element of fright that comes along with their vocation. Some don’t want to be lumped in with the wishy-washy, lovey-dovey white-light crowd. Some just don’t give a damn about what colour their magick is, as long as it works. For every mild-mannered Wiccan agonizing over whether her reversal spell violates the Rede, there is someone in a botanica buying a bottle of Bend Over Oil.

The whole black magick/white magick divide is arbitrary, culturally specific, and rooted in old Judaeo-Christian dogma that we Pagans profess not to believe in. And yet, magickal actions, like all actions, can have serious consequences. Most of us can agree that there are types of magick that are inhumane and destructive, and some that are vastly beneficial. But there’s a lot of wiggle room in the middle of the spectrum. In speaking and writing, the definitions of black and white magick seem to come down to what is acceptable to an individual Witch. It’s worth keeping these tired phrases around if they can help us to think and talk about magickal ethics.

https://www.groveandgrotto.com/blogs/articles/white-magick-black-magick-what-s-the-difference

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