AKA Beyond Jordan
- I’ve gotta say, the aerial shots are enjoyable.
- PP says the goal of the trip is to visit as many biblical sites as possible. I do not believe that showcasing the holy land was ever the only goal of the film from the very beginning based on what I already know. Like the #FreePalestine he attached to the description of the film on Youtube.
- PP isn’t even 100% sure the Israeli govt will let him in.
- Watching PP and Roger Jimenez joke about all of the countries PP has been banned from is eye roll worthy. It’s not really something to be proud of.
- Airplane shots are pure filler. We get a shot of a random Jewish guy donning tefillin on the plane.
- They let PP in. It’s almost as if he’s not as important and (in)famous as he thinks he is. 🙄
- The generic ~eastern~ music is predictably here to remind us we’re in the Middle East.
- PP washes his face with water from the Jordan river. He says it’s kind of salty.
- Listening to Jimenez preach at Herod’s fortress is such a snooze fest.
- We see the Dead Sea and a member of PP’s entourage points out how there is all this salt on the shore, but the first thing I see is litter. PP dives in headfirst and gets salt in his eyes. They all then proceed to float in the Dead Sea like you’re supposed to, and it’s supposedly one of the weirdest things EVER. 🙄
- They go to the Church of the Nativity and PP manages to avoid making an ass of himself on camera. We get to hear the tour guide sing the Lord’s Prayer in Aramaic which his kinda neat.
- PP gives Bethlehem’s water a rave review.
- PP moans about all of the idolatry in Bethlehem and the “false religion.”
- I start passing skipping the mini sermons that come with each site around this point.
- At Petra PP talks about why he was hesitant to visit the holy land before now; He doesn’t support the “modern, fake state of Israel.” Blah, blah, blah. Then he goes into how all of the sites they’ve visited so far aren’t even in Israel. He makes it a point to tell the viewers that at this point, they haven't even gone to Israel and everything we’ve seen so far has been in Jordan or Palestine.
- They hit the rewind button to show us how this trip REALLY went. They arrived in Amman, Jordan and crossed into the West Bank.
I paused at this point because I'm tired and can only watch the Pisser for so long. The film is almost 2 hrs long. I can tell the focus is probably shifting from "look at all of these cool holy sites" to PP whinging about Israel real soon.
Went to a writer's group meeting yesterday. First time I've gone to this group's meetings. Different from other groups I've participated in - this one was a series of prompts and exercises. I was in a bit of a mood going in - Father's Day weekend for a recent widow is no laugh matter; several social/annoying things happened at Shabbat service in the morning, and one of our service leaders made a "somebody really should" statement of the writing variety and once I hear someone say "someone really should" I usually can't unsee the idea until I've had a try at it. We did a word association map for one exercise, then wrote something based on part or all of the word map. I picked a section of the map that had some references to knives and fancy dress balls to write from. I'm pretty proud of what I wrote in 15 minutes but it's pretty clear that I was in a "mood."
The night of the long knives came and went as a plague on the first born of the land. Men perfectly healthy went to bed only to be jerked from sleep with knives against their throats. Here were the leaders of men, thrust against walls at the point of a stiletto, there the young men only following their orders, and over there again the family men who didn't exactly plan to pursue this path but perfectly content where they'd found themselves. At the end of a blade, deep in the depression years, taking their payslips home at the end of the week feeling they'd done a good job, and a little extra for mother in the kitchen. The years of children, church, and kitchen. The good women. Most of them not owning a fancy pair of shoes or a party dress, for who had time? The children needed their mothers at home, the men away at work.
The children of course, were not silent. Soldiers burst into their homes, dragged their fathers out of bed. Mothers clutching their husbands, children wailing for their papas. The ones who understood left quietly, reassuring the children on their way out - it's a special exercise, I couldn't know about it beforehand, otherwise I would have told you. Hush child, I'll be home in a few days. They knew they'd be lucky to make it to the end of the block, of course, but let the children hope for a little bit longer, before all hope fell away and their eyes opened to the hatred their own fathers had taken part in.
Others didn't understand, resisted and fought against the soldiers who came into their homes. They'd believed in the banners and flags, they'd stood and cheered, they'd enjoyed seeing fear cross the faces of those who understood. Now they themselves fought back in fear. Fear of losing their lives for who could possibly know what comes next? Wagner wrote of Valhalla, their wives faithfully attended church; surely there was something to greet them when the heart stopped quivering, trying to pump blood flowing onto floors, and truck beds, and sidewalks.