Today I would like to point you to a fragment from an Ingmar Bergman movie, Winter Light, movie that is part of his trilogy on faith, and, in fact, of Bergman's long-standing grappling with, and meditation on, faith, unbelief, and the very possibility of faith within modernity (or, more precisely, in mid-twentieth century Western Europe, or Scandinavia). What sets Bergman's films apart (from the drift) is that they are actual works of art, and (at least in attempt) sincere depictions of the human experience. This means that the interpretation of these depictions is, at the end of it, at the disposal of the person who engages with the work; just like the interpretation of reality itself, of the same reality that we all inhabit, is different, depending on the person who "views" it (and how they view it - as one's "vision" is often eschewed, half-blind, maybe completely blind).
The fragment I am pointing out starts at 1:04:51, and goes... well, it goes as far as you want to go with it. This fragment - and these fragments - will take you through the atmospheric "winter light" of the title; an atmosphere, though, that is desolate, as desolate as the Scandinavian landscape, and as the arid, maybe frozen, yet most suffering heart or soul of the main character.
The movie, according to one interpretation, could be about a crisis of faith. On the other hand, if one sticks it out till the end, one will also hear talk about how the same suffering (and desolation) that the main character experiences, was also experienced (ponders another character) by Christ himself, on the cross. And, in that "light," we as viewers realize that the main character (the pastor) has the choice of experiencing and interpreting his suffering, his desolation, either as the manifestation of the absolute estrangement of God - or, in fact, as a sign of God's closeness to him (as his suffering becomes Christlike).
The wintry darkness of this Advent season, or of any time of expectation, of waiting, can thus be experienced as either the mark of an absolute absence - or as the perception of an absence that is the necessary corollary, and thus implicitly also the forerunner, of the arrival of the Presence. Because, as we have heard, faith and hope are the inner instruments that aid us in pursuing the things yet unseen.
Advent is the name for the season that precedes Christmas. The meaning of Advent is to be a time of quiet expectation and inner preparation for the coming ("adventus") of the long-awaited Messiah. In fact, the entire historical period preceding the birth of the Christ could be considered to have been a kind of an Advent; that period during which the people of Israel hoped and lost hope, strayed but were chastised, and returned to the path of God, and then strayed again - all the while continuing on that path and "covenantal mission" of awaiting the coming of the Messiah, who would renew not just Israel, but heaven and earth themselves. And the Gentiles, too, even without knowing it, were they not going through a kind of an Advent? Being in the darkness, does one not desire, inherently, the Light? Being deprived of it, does one not thirst, inherently, for the Truth?
Our yearly Advent parallels thus, in a way, the historical period that preceded the birth of the Messiah. We, too, grasp, hope and lose hope, believe and stray from it - and yet, inherently, qua human beings, can not but long and desire for the Truth, the Good, the Light. And, just like the people of Israel, we too are called to make straight our roads, to level our mountains, and thus to prepare the way (in our hearts) for the arrival of the Lord; and to do this every year, as we prepare for the Nativity.
That is the purpose of Advent; but, at the same time, how can Christmas itself have any meaning, without the Advent? The apparently satiated one does not thirst! The apparently satisfied - self-satisfied, or satisfied with the world - does not see the need for renewing heaven and earth. What meaning can the Arrival have, without an Expectation thereof?
...
In many places in Europe a tradition of the Advent Calendar developed, as a physical aid and accompaniment during this yearly season of expectation and preparation. Typically, an Advent calendar has a number of "windows," corresponding to the number of days between the beginning of Advent and the Birth of Christ (December 25). Opening each window, one usually finds a treat or a nugget of some sort - maybe a chocolate, maybe a holy image, maybe a quote - all of which are meant to ease one's thirst, a bit, and thus to renew one's strength and perseverance during this time of waiting, expectation and preparation.
What I will propose, then, is a kind of contemplative and meditative, artistic and spiritual, sacred and profane, virtual Advent Calendar - perhaps helping us along the way, and perhaps reflecting (on) our condition as pilgrims on this road of Advent.
Day 1 - First Sunday of Advent
This is the traditional Advent chant, Rorate Caeli, that is sung on the Sundays of Advent (one verse each Sunday). Its refrain expresses, through simple but very poetic imagery, the desire and thirst for the "opening of the skies" and the raining down of the Just who will quench man's infinite thirst (and thirst for the Infinite).
Continuing our Happy Mondays series, let us spend some time talking about what I consider to be the best talk show, and talk show host, of the moment - Graham Norton and his eponymous The Graham Norton Show. And, both
as a way of introducing you to this show, and of supporting my claim, let
us briskly go over some of the elements that set this show apart, within a field (or genre) that by now has lost a lot of its glamour and sparkle.
First of all, it is a British talk show; and that matters, both because
the rules governing British TV are more lax, allowing for a less
straitjacketed and artificial interaction; and also because this means that the guests will usually
be a mix of American and British stars (often having a British
comedian complementing a lineup of major American stars). This mix also helps in terms of the communication style that the show tries to cultivate - namely, a somewhat loose, entertaining, and as much as possible genuine, tone. And how does having this kind of a mix of guests help? Well, because the Brits, just like the Australians or the Kiwis (New Zealanders), tend to be more direct (one could even say, more genuine) in their public appearances,
than their American peers (who, for reasons both cultural and professional, clearly separate their visible and partly artificial “public persona,” from their actual, more genuine, private self; the ones from "the Commonwealth" seem to be more reckless, as it were, in that regard.).
A good example of this might be found in the following clip, which features two very
talented (top-notch, really) American comedians (Steve Carrell and Kristen
Wiig) and an Irish one (well, ok - at least he's from the British islands – Chris O’Dowd).
Watching this short (and very funny) clip, you will perhaps get a sense of what I
am referring to - maybe by observing the American guests’ reactions to O’Dowd’s
ridiculous story; and by sensing, perhaps, the inherent difference between the
self-deprecating tone and attitude of the Irishman, and the guarded, constructed tone of the typical American public persona.
And this looseness, directness, even genuineness that the show cultivates, all contribute to providing it with a freshness that also sets it apart from its competitors. But this isn't all.
Another aspect that sets Graham Norton’s show apart is its particular format; or, more precisely, how well Graham makes this format work. As you might or might not have guessed,
all the guests are brought in at the same time, and all of them share the same couch,
throughout the show - and the conversation happens with each of them, and between them, and with all of them. In a way, this is like a prime-time
version of a fun and fancy dinner table (by the way, the guests do consume alcoholic drinks during the show). But one has to know how to make this format work – i.e. 'how to be a good
dinner party host." Compare, for example, how smoothly this works on The Graham Norton Show, with how clunky this same format feels on James Corden's The Late Late Show (who actually borrowed the format from The Graham
Norton Show, just like he borrowed other elements from other successful British shows). But Graham makes this format work, and work well.
Indeed, it seems that for Graham Norton this role of "dinner / talk show host" fits perfectly - both because of natural endowments, and also because he understands what his role actually is, as a host: to facilitate a good, rolling,
entertaining conversation, for the delight both of the public, and
of the guests themselves (who, at turns, are both protagonists and quasi-members of the public, in the course of that rolling conversation). Keeping the show “entertaining”
is also helped by the fact that Graham Norton has, without a doubt, a very keen and quick sense of humor; by which I do not mean a sense for “jokes,” but an ability to sense when humor is "in the air," as it were; a sense for the humorous - for allowing it to happen, for cultivating it, and for bringing it forth, as needed.
A good example of how well
Norton performs his role as a host, is the following clip, in which a conversation
develops between the guests in such an organic manner, that they almost forget of the host altogether; and Graham Norton allows for this to happen, and for the conversation to flow – and what results is spontaneous, genuine humor, and true entertainment, which delights both the guests, and implicitly the public. This is what it means to do one's job - as a host - exquisitely.
One can be certain that in putting all this together Graham Norton has the support of a crack
team – but that would be true of all talk shows, since they all have a sizable team working behind the curtains. What this show’s
team does so well, however, and the way in which it manages to support the particular style of this show so well, is by finding and
bringing to Norton points of conversation that are also points of shared interest (or common experiences) between the guests - which then allow the host to easily move from one guest to another - involving them each and all in a conversation that engages them all.
The top
notch guests that he manages to book on an almost constant basis also help make the show very successful; but this did not come
overnight, but was the result of Graham himself making the show successful, first with lesser-known guests - and then attracting higher profile guests exactly because of demonstrating his abilities as a talk show host.
And one can also assume that the guests actually feel good - that they have a good time - on Graham Norton’s show. And (besides the booze) perhaps the reason for that is that Graham is able to create good relationships, a good communication, with each guest - and with very different kinds of guests – as between very different guests. See him here with a couch that includes a “hard”
rapper, Ice Cube (Straight Outta Compton); an “urban” American comedian, Kevin
Hart; a British actress whom one might know from The Crown (but also from
recently collecting the Oscar), Olivia Colman; and a British (and by now also American)
star, Hugh Laurie. Very different personal styles and cultural backgrounds –
and yet they all seem to feel at ease, on that couch - and also with each other. Thanks in good measure,
I would say, to the skills of the host.
[watch from 20:22 to 28:30; the last part of the segment is
especially triumphant]
Of course, there are harder edges to our Graham Norton, as
well; for example, what one could call a keen sense for the moment's “hierarchy of fame" (hierarchy that is readily, if gingerly, enforced). For example,
although all the guests are brought in right at the beginning,
they enter the stage one by one, so that the one with the highest star power always enters last, being thus seated on the couch closest to Graham. And it is indeed funny when one notices how one guest may be “last" to come in (and
thus first in the hierarchy) one year, while a couple of
years later he is the first to come in (and thus, of course, gets to be seated at the end of the
couch).
Similarly, one can also notice a difference in tone and attitude between
how Norton interacts with his star guests, and - well, the public, the common Joe. Not that he is rude - but there is clearly a harsher tone, an impatience, a difference in how he relates to them - again, I would say, as a manifestation of his keen sense and respect for the "hierarcy of (star) power." It is also true, of course, that he needs to move the show along, and that non-entertainers always pose the danger of dragging down the tone and dynamic of the show - so a certain briskness..
But the famous “red chair” can be considered quite an apt embodiment of what I was just describing (this red chair is in fact my least favorite aspect of the show; I quite detest it). This is a chair (red, of course) in which (volunteer) members
of the public get to sit down, in order to tell what they think is an
entertaining story – under the somewhat merciless, often rash and quite arbitrary judgement of Norton and of (some of) his guests. The thing is that, whenever they (Graham
& co.) feel that the member of the public (or the story) become uninteresting,
they pull a lever - which literally throws the poor member of the public out of
the chair, backwards.
Yes, all is not, nor can it be, fresh and smelling of roses; and yet, for the
reasons enumerated above (and others, I’m sure), The Graham Norton Show is without a doubt the
most entertaining talk show of the moment (by which I mean that it has been that for many
years, already), with a host who, both through natural and through cultivated skills, has managed to elevated his game and his show to the highest
levels of the genre. Hats off, therefore, to Graham Norton - and to many more entertaining seasons!
Other samples from the show:
- a most entertaining episode, featuring Jodie Foster, Russell Crowe,
Ryan Gosling, and British comedian Greg Davies (who tells what might be one of the funniest true
stories ever told on TV)
- a shorter bit in which Christ Pratt and British comedian John
Bishop discover that they have a weird connection, a weird shared experience
- another famous episode (part 1 thereof), which featured Matt Damon, Bill Murray, Hugh
Bonneville etc.
