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We’re often taught to avoid failure rather than learn from it. Here’s a tale of caution: NEVER fear failure. That will only enforce the reality in which you fail. Over the summer I had to take a precalc course to qualify for the Grove School of engineering. There were three major exams that the summer bridge students needed to take to qualify. On the second test, my anxiety peaked. I had studied all night to prepare for the test, in fear of the reality in which I failed. Turns out failure is a self fulfilling prophecy and in an attempt to finish all the questions I rushed myself and made silly mistakes. In the end it just means I had time to reflect on what I really wanted from college, and one or two extra summer courses 🙂
You have an amazing point Liam! Truth, lies, magic, none of it matters as much as its effect it has on others. The lemon drops might not have magical healing properties but that’s no indicator it didn’t help Mateo feel better. Often times our own perception of an objects effect is greater in contribution than the object in question. When I was younger, I used to have a lucky pencil. Whenever I was taking an important exam, I would use it. The confidence it granted me likely helped me time doubting myself. The pencil itself was just a regular pencil which I had fooled myself into believing it lucky, but in the end the lie ended up being a comfort to me. In the film the most opposed to white lies was Johnny. Johnny often outright refused to provide or believe in these comforts, even when it was to calm his own children. He was painfully aware of reality, unwilling to take comfort in fantasy- an unorthodox mindset for an actor to be sure. When they all are waving goodbye, it was Johnny who had initiated the white lie. After so much stress over financial burdens Johnny had accepted Mateo’s magic, the strength of comfort, and finally said goodbye to Frankie. So, I agree. Truth, white lies, or anything in between. We’ll never be able to understand reality so why not allow refuge in fantasies?
I wholeheartedly agree with Chris and the duality of hope and despair which is demonstrated in the film. While the family crosses the border, they’re still experiencing the despair of their recent loss. The scene is very tense: the dialogue is drawn out and infused with awkward gaps of silence. It is evident that Johnny is still grieving the death of Frankie, unable to process his loss and mixing up the number of children on board. We, the audience, are placed dab smack in the middle of this tense scene. The framing is tight and intimate. Many times we are subject to the perspective of the back seat, with a slight bobbing of the camera, much as if we were in the car alongside them. In the other shots, we’re placed shoulder to shoulder, never far enough to distance ourselves from the anguish. It creates a sort of intimacy with the moment, one where we’re just as nervous as Christy- praying that immigration would let us into the country. In direct opposition to the melancholy entrance is our introduction to the City. As the frame slowly distances away from the car and pans upward to reveal the shimmering skyscrapers, serene against the night sky. The structures act as lighthouses, granting the Sullivan family guidance for attaining hope. From the ground floor of the city, the family is starstruck by Times Square. Back to back shots of various billboards, signs, new Yorkers, and traffic. It’s a sensory overload of lights, emotions, colors. Berated by various perspectives and camera angles we’re swept up in the emotion, the joy of it all, the hope in the streets of New York City. As we’re cut from the Manhattan traffic so too is the family cut from their experience as tourists. The moment they enter the decrepit building they’ve been granted the title of New Yorkers. Their apartment complex in Hell’s kitchen is home to other despairing souls and struggling characters of New York. This is the setting of the film, the often-grimy reality of the city. Within this is the crux of it all: the grime, poverty, suffering and love, pride, and a community built to strengthen one another.
365 wordsIndeed, Corrigan was as close to Christ as any human could be. Nearly endless faith and devotion to his set of beliefs, just nearly. Part of what made him believable are his faults, limited as they may be. His empathy for others seems to be as vast as our ocean, but when it comes to his father it hits a dry spot. An individual who’s hurt him worse than any pimp’s fist, an absentee father. Even Corian takes comfort in John’s spite for his father, going as far as to justify his absence in his funeral. That being said Corrigan is still a saintly being and thank you for blessing us with that amazing title.
I completely agree. He would endure others vices not to get high, rather to get leveled. Understand their torment in order to better accept them. I’ll be honest, whenever I pictured Corrigan it was of a man with a strong resemblance to Jesus; the characters demonstrating such empathy are few and far between. Captain America is also a great comparison, you reminded us of how a young Steve Rogers threw himself on a grenade in order to “save” the rest of the team. Whenever we see such displays of compassion they just burrow their way inside our hearts, not just as a character but someone to admire. How do you think Steve would react in the same living situation as John?
