1. Notes: 3 / 3 months ago 

    The Sixth Sense and the Eighth wonder of the world

    This evening I watched the Sixth Sense with my little brother. He is fourteen, a baseball jock, math wizard, the ladies love him, he’s hilarious, and my best friend. In short, he’s almost everything that I want to be, and he’s eight years my younger. But there is one thing he doesn’t quite understand, something that comes to me very naturally. 

    He doesn’t know, or care much for art. 

    Tonight, in my efforts to culturalize him, I made him watch what is arguably one of the greatest thrillers of all time before it is too late. Too late, as in, before the ending is ruined for him by an internet meme, reference through another lesser film, or by one of his friends. I put in the disc so that he could enjoy it, and so that I could enjoy sharing this film with another for the first time. For some reason, I have always loved sharing my favorite films with those who are unfamiliar with them, more than I love watching my favorite films myself. Perhaps you can relate. 

    I suppose part of that enjoyment comes from our desire to experience beauty “anew”. To see something with a new light as if we saw it for the first time. When we share it with another person, it’s almost as if we ARE experiencing it for the first time, because we are experiencing it with and through another person. It’s community. The Eighth wonder of the world. 

    If I were to be trapped on an island, on my own, with only my favorite things, I would die of starvation. I would starve without being able to share another film, or play a video game with my little brother. I would starve without my roommate playing that stupid violin song every time I whined about something. I would starve without my best friend sounding like a garden gnome as he hops across a small river on a camping trip. I would starve without my lady friends stealing my camera to take pictures of everything they see. I would starve without my Mother calling to ask me how my day was. 

    And it took The Sixth Sense to remind me how much I love everyone who has been in my life. 

    I cried several times re-watching the film, particularly during Cole and his mother’s dialogues. “Look at my face, do I look like I’m very mad?” Even this scene, a heartbreaking one at that, tugs at the heartstrings. Not nearly so much as when Cole confesses his gift at the end of the film, helping his mother realize that his grandmother “is proud of her”. In fact, without community with her son she would never know that her grandmother is proud of her “everyday”. 

    That last scene is such a perfect example of why, as a Christian, I NEED people around me “everyday”. Cole’s mother probably knew the answer on a rational level. Everyone’s mother is proud of their child so long as they aren’t crazy dysfunctional, and even then are probably in denial over the fact. But Cole’s affirmation of his grandmother’s love makes the love an actual presence in their sedan, as he supports and serves her. In a way he is acting as a vessel for his grandmother. When you offer your prayers and support for your friends as a Christian, it is likely that the Holy Spirit may be using you as a vessel as well. Your relationships will deepen because of it. 

    I love art. I love film. I love poetry. I love music. I love books. I love art. I love art. I love art. 

    It constantly reminds me that God exists. Rationality cannot explain art. I cannot rationally and scientifically explain God. But art has a way of breaking all barriers and reminding us that we are not creators, we are sub-creators. The Creator is constant and he is writing your story. Be a part of it. 

  2. Notes

    1. semi-constructive-criticism posted this
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My name is Chris.

What you see here is a collection of film reviews, previews, criticism, and other stuff which may or may not have anything to do with movies.

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I also like to take pictures of things, share spiritual thoughts, discover incredible youtube videos, and share anything that has to do with zombies.

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