The 2013 Academy Awards Ceremony is now history, with it’s bad inside jokes, its pandering self-adulation, and its cheesy red carpet interviews.  Nevertheless, I was fairly pleased with the results.  Daniel Day Lewis as best actor for Lincoln was the most deserved–and he gave the best acceptance speech.  I’ve never seen an actor that more disappears into his roles than he.  He was Lincoln.  I was happy to see Jennifer Lawrence win best actress (she dominates every frame she’s in) and disappointed Alan Arkin did not win best supporting actor (he has a hilarious role in a tension-filled film).  And, though I would have preferred Lincoln to secure either best director or best picture, I’ve already gone on record of my appreciation for Argo.

That leaves one kudo for Anne Hathaway’s portrayal of Fantine in the film version of the British (and Broadway) musical, Les Miserables.  Her Oscar for her role was well-deserved.  But my love for Les Miz, the musical, demands I give my review of the film version before it passes into history.  What follows will be a triple review.

1.  Les Miz, the Hugo Novel

Victor Hugo’s  magnificent 1862 novel of post-Napoleonic France is one of the greatest fictional stories of redemption in all literature.  Dealing with the dreadful plight of the common citizen who can barely scape together enough food or money to survive, Hugo weaves together an incredible tapestry of poverty and despair, injustice and violence, corruption and compassion, redemption, revolution, hope, and love–both fulfilled and unrequited.  Hugo’s novel had such a world-wide impact, even at the time it was written we are told, that it was the second most-carried book (beside the Bible) by both union and rebel soldiers during the American Civil War.  Everyone should read this novel in its unabridged version, and read it more than once.

There are literally scores of film versions of this novel.  One starring Liam Neeson in 1998 is a good recent retelling of the story worth watching.

2.  Les Miz, the Mackintosh Musical

Although the musical version of Les Miz opened in London in 1985, I did not see it until, after a good Broadway run, a Broadway tour came to Portland.  Jani and I love Broadway musicals (Stephen Sondheim is our favorite lyricist), but this experience topped any musical we had ever seen.  The story, the rich and noble themes, the staging, and above all, the beautiful and towering music left us breathless–and in tears.  We have probably seen it ten times since that first exposure, but our enthusiasm has never flagged.  True, the musical has changed over the years: some of the songs have been shortened, much of the staging has been adjusted, and, in the latest rendition, the beloved revolving stage was eliminated (to my everlasting chagrin).  Nevertheless, the powerful impact has remained the same for me.  Not one prone to weep easily, I’m often in tears by the time Valjean meets the Bishop.  From the opening beat of the work gang’s song, “Look Down,” to the fading strains of the company’s final “Do You Hear the People Sing?” the musical is relentless.

Where most musicals are fortunate to have one show-stopper of a song, there are four emotional and musical highlights to Les Miz, the musical.  The first is Fantine’s plaintive “I Dreamed a Dream,” where she recounts the tragedy of her shattered hopes in a gripping aria.  The second, unexpectedly, is Javert’s “Stars,” where the chief antagonist, an officer of the law always on Valjean’s trail, sings compellingly of his legalistic worldview where convicts can never change and where merciless justice is the ultimate value.  The third is the series of songs centering on Eponine (the daughter of the reprehensible Thenardiers), whose unrequited love for Marius reaches its climax with her reflective “On My Own” and arrives at its tragic conclusion with “A Little Fall of Rain.”  She quickly became my favorite character of the play (behind, of course, the protagonist Jean Valjean).  The fourth musical apex is Valjean himself singing “Bring Him Home” in the quiet hours at the barricades before the final slaughter will begin.  His prayer for a man he barely knows who, were he to live, would take his beloved daughter away, encapsulates all of the selflessness that a redeemed Valjean has come to represent.

In my opinion, every thinking human being must see this musical, feeling for oneself the interaction between the three worldviews of atheism, legalism, and redemption that are interwoven here.

3.  Les Miz, the Hooper Film

So how does the recent  film version of the musical compare?  My answer is twofold.  If you’ve never seen the musical, then by all means see the film until the stage version rolls around again.  You’ll be exposed to the power of the music and get a sense of what makes it great.  The important musical and literary themes are there.  However, if you have seen the stage version, you may find yourself deeply disappointed.  The songs are truncated to its detriment and the choice of actors playing the key roles, while understandable, minimizes its impact.  I would counsel you not to waste your time.

Now, I appreciate that a film and a staged musical are different genres.  The film is more epic and visual.  For example, the first scene that replaces the work gang with galley slaves is more visually compelling–and actually truer to the book.  And overall, the film, with its cinematic close-up focus on individual characters, depicts a grittier, harsher world more in keeping with Hugo’s novel than Mackintosh’s musical.  But, of course, it takes more time to play these scenes on film so something else must be cut (usually the songs) and often this more realistic filming makes the singing numbers seem out of place or, at worst, silly.

The biggest disappointment is the singing and acting.  Again, I realize that screen actors are chosen for different reasons that those for the stage.  But even with this concession, the choices are hard to understand and the results difficult to accept.  Of the four emotional high points of the Broadway musical mentioned above, only Fantine measures up.  Anne Hathaway does a tremendous job, and the slight readjusting of events in the movie actually enhances the pathos of her soliloquy, “I Dreamed a Dream.”  Her singing is not beautiful, but, in context, it is compellingly effective.

But with the other three  important high points, the film excruciatingly fails.  Russell Crowe was certainly not chosen for his voice, but even his acting is sub-par.  And when he sings, “Stars,” there is no reason for sympathy; he remains a marginal, one-dimensional character.

Then there is the disappointment of the Eponine songs.  No actress can sing “On My Own” like Lea Salonga did in the 10th Anniversary edition, granted, and Samantha Barks has a fine voice.  It’s the director that consigns this important character and her moving account of unrequited love to oblivion.  He diminishes her relationship with Marius, eliminates her meeting with Valjean, cuts out the important prologue to “On My Own,” and fatally shortens “A Little Drop of Rain.”  I found myself regarding one of my favorite plot-lines and musical themes dispassionately, as if only a nameless member of the chorus had died.

Worst, the film tragically mutilates the ultimate high point of the story, “Bring Him Home.”  I don’t know if this blunder lies at the feet of Hugh Jackman (who fairly screams out a song which should be sung as a lyrical prayer in the quiet of the night) or of the director Tom Hooper, who has Valjean running madly about while he shouts his prayer.  I almost wept when I heard this song, true enough, but out of bitter frustration, not emotion.

So there, my friends, is my three-fold review.  If you have not read Hugo’s novel read it.  If you can see Mackintosh’s musical in London, on Broadway, or on the road, don’t miss it.  And if you want to see the movie out of mild curiosity, do it at your own risk.  I won’t even be buying a copy of the DVD.

Last Wednesday, I was saddened, though not surprised, by the news that Dr. Howard Hendricks had passed into glory at age 88.  He was a man of intense passion for God and his Word, incredible skills at communication, and a mentor to literally thousands.  I was fortunate to be one of those his life touched.  You will read many tributes of Hendricks over the next several weeks.  I am compelled to add my own footnote to a man who marked me indelibly for nearly forty years.  His impact on me will continue beyond the grave.

“Be a Tree Student”

My first exposure to Prof was when I, as a new student at DTS, took Bible Study Methods.  That course alone changed the compass of my ministry as I learned the basics of inductive Bible study.  “Men,” Prof would exhort us, “you must become tree students, not pipe students!”  A pipe student, he explained, studies the Bible to teach it to others, but the truth passes through him without having any effect on him at all.  A tree student, on the other hand,  will take from the richness of God’s Word, become transformed, and so transform those he teaches.  “Teach from the overflow of what you learn!” he said.

I took what classes I could from Prof.  His courses were  always relevant; his grading of our assignments, always affirming.

“Please Pray About It”

My love for theology and my intention to teach overseas led me to enter the ThD program in theology.  Near the end of my first year of doctoral studies I received a hand-written request from Prof to drop by and see him.  Since it was impossible to get an appointment with him in his office, I caught him walking to class.  To my surprise, he asked if I would be willing to teach Christian Education as an Instructor for the next two years while I was working on my doctorate.  Another professor was taking a two-year leave of absence, and Prof wanted me to fill in.  “Please pray about it,” he said as he hurried off.  I don’t think I prayed more than five minutes about accepting that choice opportunity.

The next two years were like gold.  Of course, the chance to get to know Prof better and to watch him in action was value enough.  My office was just two doors away from his in the small CE suite on the third floor of the new academic building, so our interaction was constant.  As a department, we spent time together, including the annual Christmas breakfasts that Jeanne Hendricks prepared at their home.  Prof even promised to support Jani and me financially when we headed off to Germany.

But what changed me forever was his mentoring of my teaching.  We team-taught a required CE course each fall semester.  Two identical sections were scheduled back-to-back.  On one day Prof would give the lecture.  I took copious notes because the material was so deep.  But sitting through two sections had an advantage.  In the first section I was grabbing his content.  But in the second I was taking notes on how he taught, how he directed class participation, how he used media, and how his passion came through.  I was really earning a doctorate in Hendricks’ pedagogy.  There was no program like it on earth.

Then, the next day, I would lead the class for two sections.  Prof was always there, taking copious notes, too!  I’ll never forget one day after I completed my discussion of equipping the saint for ministry from Ephesians 4, Prof walked me back to our offices.  He was so full of high praise–much more than I deserved–that I was veritably floating across the campus.  And, of course, he added some suggestions for improvement, too.

“My Students Deserve Nothing Less”

I learned things about Prof that few knew.  Early on in his teaching ministry, he told me, he suffered from depression and from severe migraines.  But he never let on.  When he entered the classroom or the pulpit, his strong will put all of those distractions aside and he would teach with all the energy and passion he possessed.  “My students deserve nothing less,” he said.

I still marvel at those two years.  There were probably hundreds of men who would have jumped at that chance–and been more qualified.  But for some reason that still eludes me, he chose me.  I count myself richly blessed!

Prof was ultimately responsible for my teaching at Multnomah.  Jani and I planned to move back to Portland in 1979 to prepare for a ministry in Germany.  We had lots to do before that, and I needed a job!  So I applied to Multnomah to teach Bible and theology for one year.  I avoided mentioning my CE teaching because I wanted to teach theology.  Dr. Joe Wong, the academic dean, politely responded that they had no need for Bible or theology teachers at the time.  A month later, however, I received a note from Joe.  “I understand you have been teaching CE with Prof Hendricks for the last two years,” he said.  We do need a part-time instructor in CE for the next year.  I accepted the offer (after all, I needed a job!) and later learned that Prof, speaking that spring at Multnomah’s Founder’s Banquet, had put in a good word for me.

“The Intellectual Tools for the Job”

Being a close friend to Dr. Joe Aldrich, Prof joined our Board when I was seminary dean.  In a rare appearance before the  board, I presented a plan for raising faculty salaries.  One trustee worried that offering higher salaries might draw faculty to Multnomah for the wrong reason.  Prof, who often said little during the meetings, spoke up.  “I think anyone who teaches at a Bible college for the money lacks the intellectual tools to qualify for the job,” he said.  All discussion ceased, and the motion was passed.

I later learned Prof was on the presidential search committee that finally selected me.  The committee was very closed-lipped about it deliberations, so we never spoke of it.  I did learn the recommendation was unanimous.

Then one December, about two years into my presidency, I was flabbergasted to receive an invitation from Dallas Seminary to interview for the presidency of DTS.   As I struggled with this opportunity, I met Prof in January when he was in Portland for a Board meeting.  “What should I do?” I asked him.   “I don’t feel the timing is right, but should I at least fly to Dallas for the interview?”

“Absolutely,” he responded.   “I was the one who suggested your name!”

I did interview with the search committee, but declined the offer.  Despite the personal advantages this could mean to me, I did not feel the Lord had released me from Multnomah.  (Of course, I have no way of knowing whether I would have been selected had I even taken that step.)

Prof resigned from the Board some time later.  We corresponded on several occasions since then, and his letters were always full of affirmation and affection.  I re-read them occasionally as precious evidence of a man who influenced me perhaps more than any other person except my parents and Jani.

Prof, thanks for using your considerable gifts tirelessly and selflessly to expand the Kingdom of Christ.  I’m grateful that you saw something in me, a young and callow seminarian, that you thought worth investing in.  I pray that your investment in me will bear fruit in some small measure for the same kingdom work.

I returned from last week’s ABHE Annual Meeting in Orlando.  While attending the usual board meetings and workshops, I was taken by this year’s theme, “Quality Assurance and Disruptive Innovation: Can They Coexist?”  One of the plenary speakers was Stephen Moore, Executive Director of Missio Nexus.  I first heard Steve a year ago at this conference.  There, while discussing currents trends, he introduced a fascinating and compelling distinction between complication and complexity.  (See my June 2, 2012  blog for a summary.)

This year, as the lead-off plenary speaker, Steve challenged–and stretched–me again.  I’ll mention just four of the startling ideas he suggested in his lecture and expanded on in his recent book, Seize the Vuja De.

Seize the Vuja De.  Deja vu, we all know, is that strange sensation that we’ve seen or experienced something before.  Steve turns this idea on its head when he suggests that one of the most important things an institution can do is to look at a familiar situation (or institution or set of challenges) with new eyes, examining it in a way never tried before.  That’s vuja de.  It’s being able to think outside the box without ignoring the important elements of your own history that must not be abandoned.

Benchmarking and Best Practices.  Much is said about following “institutional best practices.”  This involves looking at the way other institutions are doing things well and seeking to do the same.  Steve’s insightful comment is this: best practices are essential for survival; but they are insufficient for success.  This took me aback.  At Multnomah, we refer to best practices all the time.  I’m glad we do because there are many areas where we must bring our out-of-date processes and policies up to speed.  “Benchmarking” helps us do this.  However, Steve’s point is that we must not stop there.  Best practices are not sufficient for success–they will only insure mediocrity.  Following best practices only makes you as good as everyone else.  Real success requires we meet the minimums and then “seize the vuja de” to become truly extraordinary.

Ideas and the Toothbrush Theory.  Developing new ideas–and being willing to use the good ideas of others–is necessary to this self-discovery for excellence.  The danger for many is to follow the “toothbrush theory”: everyone needs one, everyone has one, and no one wants to use anyone’s else’s.  This principle, when applied to ideas, translates into accepting only the ideas you’ve come up with and disregarding other ideas with even better potential.  This can be suicide.  It’s like one of my profs said, “It’s amazing what you can accomplish when you don’t care who gets the credit!”

Idea: Achieve Quality through Quantity. When Alex Osborn wrote on the effectiveness of “brainstorming,” he found instant resonance.  He argued that a group of people, sharing ideas without structure and without criticism, would effectively produce a greater quantity of better ideas than those generated by many individuals working alone, or by groups working in a setting where ideas were critiqued and debated after being presented.  Many leaders today still stand by his methodology.

Interestingly, Charlan Nemeth conducted recent studies that show the opposite is true.  Comparison studies of teams using a “brainstorming” approach did not fare as well against a team where individuals first worked alone to develop ideas and then shared them collectively in a context of critique.  And, the best ideas were actually produced when these individually-produced ideas had to be defended in a debate setting from others who strongly disagreed with them.

The point is clear.  Successful institutions and individuals “Seize the vuja de!”  They look at things differently.  They use best practices to establish a strong foundation but generate new ideas to become innovative.  They are unafraid of using the good ideas of others, and are willing to subject their own ideas to withering criticism if necessary to seek the best.

Ben Affleck and Argo, his nifty movie released last fall, are in the news again. He just picked up three BAFTA (British Academy of Film and Television Arts) awards, including the ones for best picture and best director. Affleck has been doing a lot of such collecting the last several months (Producer’s Guild, Director’s Guild, Screen Actor’s Guild, and, of course, the Golden Globes), and the Brits just added some more bling to his stash.

It appears, however, that this may be the last last of his awards–for best director anyway. He wasn’t even nominated for best director by the Academy, although Argo could still earn an Oscar for best picture. Perhaps this lack of a nomination by Hollywood is not too surprising. I’ve been galled at how Leonardo DiCaprio is regularly shunned at the Hollywood shindig. But what can we expect from a film community that keeps offering up sequels of Chainsaw Massacre, A Nightmare on Elm Street, and Halloween?

But Argo is a gem of a film.  Though I might personally favor Lincoln getting the nod for best picture, I would find a win by Argo very satisfying, indeed.  In fact, almost everything about this tightly made, terse film is perfect.

It begins with a brief but intense preamble that depicts the Iran hostage crisis of 1979.  In just eight minutes or so, we viewers are brought up to speed on a gripping event that galvanized the nation and established the contours for much of what would follow in the Middle East.  Jani and I had just moved to Portland when this crisis broke, and we were both horrified and transfixed by what was happening in Tehran.  Night after night we watched this drama unfold, an event which launched ABC’s Nightline.

For Affleck to capture so ably the smells and sounds, fear and pathos of this living nightmare in such a succinct, introductory snippet is nothing short of genius.

Then he moves into his story.  At the time, we all heard hints of a rescue of some of the American diplomats through the intervention of the Canadian embassy, but no details were released.  Now the classified has been not only unclassified but made into a stellar account of deception, duplicity, courage, and downright hilarity.

The central conceit of Tony Mendez, Affleck’s character, is that he will pose as a filmmaker to squirrel the six hidden Americans, who were not taken hostage, out of Terhan.  No one, of course, believes the ploy will work or that Mendez can do it.  But do it he does, and the caper has such verve and humor that Alan Arkin deserves a supporting actor Oscar for his role, too.  Critics charge that more credit is given to the CIA than to the Canadians in this film, which is doubtlessly true.  But perhaps we can forgive Affleck for this; this is a film only “based” on truth, after all!

Even the climax is impressive.  We know how it all ends.  But I found myself gripping the handles of my reclining theater chair–and Jani’s arm–with uncertain angst until the jet finally clears Iranian airspace.  If anything, the final moments are too tense, far more, historians tell us, than was actually the case.

Need I say this is a must see?  See it for a reminder of a critical moment of history.  See it for the brash audacity of the leading character.  And see it for the way a small, sleeper of a film can emerge as a template of film-making at its finest.