Paris is the real center of this story. It’s a city with a history that’s still available if one is at all willing to look. And once you start looking, the past comes forward to meet you and to remind you that people will someday look back at the present time as a golden age. To remind you to look carefully at this moment, to savor the place where you live and the life you have.

When the director of the Houston Ballet Company (evidently a highly respected company, with then-Vice President George H.W. Bush as one of the patrons) visits Beijing with his principal dancers, Li catches his eye. He offers to take Li back to the United States. After some initial hesitation by the people in charge of the Chinese dancers (they fear that Li might not be sufficiently orthodox to resist the lure of the decadent West), they agree to send Li to Houston.

Of course Li soon finds out that the backward, decadent, suffering West is nothing like what he was taught in school. He becomes an even better dancer (“In China I could dance pretty good, but here I can dance my best,” he says), falls in love with another member of the dance troupe, and faces a difficult decision when the Chinese order him to come home.

This is not a black and white movie. For example, the head of the Houston Ballet is very much in favor of Li going back to China (if he defects, it ruins any chance of other Chinese dancers being allowed to come to America). And the consequences for Li’s family of defecting could be dire. The movie ends on a happy note, but even so, we (or at least I) are not quite sure that Li makes the right choice.

Cut to our hero, the portly panda Po, fresh from his victory in the first movie, fully accepted by the kung fu masters known as the Fighting Five, training and eating to his heart’s content. Upon hearing the news of Shen’s defeat of the kung fu masters, Po and his friends journey to stop him. They find Shen, and Po has him cornered, when he experiences a strange flashback that distracts him and allows Shen to escape. Po, disturbed by his failure and confused by the flashback, asks his sensei, Shifu, for advice. “You won’t defeat Shen until you find inner peace,” Shifu advises him.

And so begins not only a swashbuckling action-packed kung fu fighting adventure, but also a surprisingly thoughtful investigation into what makes us who we are. Po’s journey contains some obvious comedy (“Po, you’re adopted,” his adoptive father, a duck, tells him with great trepidation. “I kinda guessed,” Po responds), but it’s also heartwarming and insightful.

The first Kung Fu Panda was fun and entertaining, definitely worth watching, but the second movie is one we would like to own. Highly recommended.

The monks consider the matter and resolve to stay. The film follows them as they discuss options and then as they await whatever comes of their decision. I wondered why they were so often shown in their chapel, singing and praying; surely once would be enough to let us know that this is part of their lives? Afterward it struck me that we saw them there again and again because this was not simply a part, but the center and basis of their lives. The events going on around them are senseless not only to them but also to their neighbors; it is faith that secures their existence and encourages them to continue life amid the turmoil.

Several times the film’s setting changes abruptly from the quiet of the monastery to a jarringly loud scene elsewhere; I believe the juxtaposition is an intentional though wordless comparison of faith and sight.

As Scharnhorst comments,

There is of course a little bit of the modern myth that “true” Christians and “true” Muslims have all the important things in common, but there’s also, as you mentioned, some surprisingly strong portrayals of Christian faith. Among my favorite is when the head monk exhorts a fearful brother that he has already given up his life. As you said, a quiet but powerful film, portraying a quiet but powerful faith.

There is an excellent review here; a bit long but well worth reading.

(In French with subtitles)

I have thought again and again about this moving film about a woman named Yesterday, a young mother in South Africa who discovers that she has contracted AIDS from her absent coal-miner husband, and who matter-of-factly continues to care for her child and prepare for the future. Even before she became ill, life wasn’t easy. Yesterday carries water, makes a fire in order to cook, walks miles to see a doctor–and displays gentle grace and faith in her life situation. This isn’t an action film; it’s hard to step away from our own culture even to watch the slow opening scene, where Yesterday is walking with her daughter along a long, deserted road. Yet if you can set aside American expectations, it actually makes you feel the unhurried pace of rural African life, the daily necessity of waiting, the influence of place and circumstances, the importance of relationships.

This is a common story in Africa now, but the movie presents an individual rather than a faceless cause. Though the ending was heartbreaking, I was full of admiration for Yesterday, for her strength and dignity, and for her satisfaction at achieving the goal she has set.

But there are a couple flies in the ointment: his sister is getting married and wants him to photograph a cutout of her and her fiance in front of various landmarks in his travels. The cutout doesn’t fit in his luggage, putting a crimp in his well-oiled flying routine. An ambitious young world-beater has gotten the boss at his work to listen to some ideas about how to change the job and cut down on travel. Ryan just wants to get the photos, get his work back to the way it used to be, and perhaps grab a few nights of pleasure from a similarly-minded woman. And reach that 10 millionth mile.

By the end of the movie, Ryan has accomplished all of these goals, and they don’t give him quite the satisfaction he anticipated. He doesn’t quit his job, nor are there any grand speeches about how he’s finally found the meaning of life, but the movie does a great job of subtly delivering the message that he has missed what’s important.

For those who know Omaha, it is a must to see the bonus features: Ryan’s “home” is in Omaha, and at one point (in a deleted scene) he moves into a loft apartment in the Old Market. That sequence was shot in Omaha, and there is a fairly lengthy montage of Old Market scenes, great to see. Perhaps the Keep Nebraska for Nebraskans committee had it removed.