recalcitrant

Baraka has to be one of the finest films ever made. Watching it today, I began to notice some of the concepts produced by examining the images in linear order rather than independently; many new thoughts emerged as a result. In the last cut, with the giant Deity statues juxaposed over time-lapse photography of the stars was such a powerful moment: it perfectly encapsulated our struggle to understand not God, the Universe, and more importantly ourselves; obviously, our inclination to believe in a God tells us many things about our thought processes.

Incidentally, just last night I wrote a poem about the subjective/objective distinction, and the room that allows for us to "write in" God into the picture. If, as the structuralists claim, language speaks reality, then it seems quite obvious to say that our perceived evidence of design leads to our concept of a designer. Our Western minds are built to notice patterns and adapt to them; the pattern of the creator-created seems to have superimposed itself exceptionally powerfully upon our psychologies.

Chaos is a little too despairing. It's not comfortable.

Baraka certainly doesn't induce comfort, either. The way it provides images for our structural brains to contrast is simply genius; the chickens and the traffic is easily the most obvious and definitely the least subtle. One of my favorites is, after an extended montage of the inescapable unpleasant truths of our world (never mind the irony of me talking about the truths of our world after ranting about subjectivity of perception), there's the Japanese man acting out a prolonged, gut-wrenching, cosmos-shredding scream of silence. Well said, Japanese man.

If you haven't seen this movie, DO SO. Altered states of perception are highly recommended. Watching this movie under the influence can induce a man to no less than a belief in said Creator.

Whether he's there or not, the history of our devotion to Him is fascinating. A glimpse at God is as much a glimpse in the mirror as anything else.