Johnny Depp is The Libertine

“Allow me to be frank: you will not like me,” a foppishly dressed Johnny Depp growls directly into the camera. So ends the trailer for his latest picture, The Libertine. After starring in two straight movies which were widely enjoyed by the public (Finding Neverland and Pirates of the Caribbean), Depp is now making a biopic of John Wilmot, the second Earl of Rochester. (Ever known for his controversial roles, Depp may be anxious that his pending two-sequel deal on Pirates could, horror of horrors, brand him as a popularly beloved actor.) The Libertine, an art-house project also starring John Malkovich as Charles II, recounts Wilmot’s debauched and treacherous life, and promises to paint the licentious Earl as the consummate anti-hero of the Restoration court.

The film is being marketed as “the most controversial movie of the year”—controversy, of course, being the only way such a movie ever makes money. However, if it lives up to the trailer’s glimpses of sex, lies, and violence, it will simply be yet another film cut from contemporary Hollywood’s cloth. A Tinseltown movie featuring a rogue who shocks his peers with liberal views on sex?! How scandalous! How original! (Competition note: Touchstone Pictures presents their paean to Casanova just weeks after The Libertine is released.)

However, there is an element in Rochester’s story that could yield a truly controversial film. In popular British culture of old, John Wilmot was indeed legendary—but not as the foppish gent who, as the movie will highlight, wrote a pornographic play lampooning the king who commissioned it. Instead, Wilmot was renowned as one of England’s most famous deathbed converts to the Christian faith. Should this art-house flick boldly depict Wilmot’s ultimate redemption, should it illustrate the staggering ability of God’s grace to reach even the most desperate sinner—should it show us how a libertine once found true liberty—it may well prove to be the year’s most controversial film.

But my hopes aren’t high. Johnny Depp has already predicted it: I probably won’t like the Libertine.

Who was M. Regulus? (And why don't we care?)

In prep for my classes next semester, I picked up The City of God today and started what will have to a be a very fast read. It’s been a while since I was in Augustine so I was a bit apprehensive about how it would go, but I was pleasantly surprised with its readability and interest (at least for most parts) compared to my memory.

While reading, however, one anecdote jumped out at me, of which I had virtually no memory. The story was of Marcus Regulus, the Roman general and great man of virtue who had been captured by Carthage during, I believe, the 2nd Punic War. (Anyone else remember? It’s in Bk 1, ch 25.)

The Carthaginians sent Regulus back to Rome to present a proposal to swap prisoners, including himself—but not before making him swear to return to Carthage if the proposal failed. Regulus, however, argued and persuaded the Senate instead that it wasn’t advantageous for the Roman Republic to exchange prisoners, and then—despite the pleas of his countrymen—kept his oath and returned to Carthage where he was summarily viciously tortured to death.

Augustine’s point was to show how even the most virtuous and pious of the Romans were not protected by their gods. But what really struck me was simply the fact that I wasn’t familiar with this great story of civic duty, honor, and sacrifice.

Every schoolboy for hundreds of years was prepared for citizenship through the great examples of such men of great virtue who sacrificed for their country, who made their countries strong through their courage and devotion to duty. Rome itself—especially the old Rome of the days of the Senate—had hundreds of such men, men who up until this last century would have been familiar to any lad of twelve.

Why not anymore? Why did I have to wait till my college Roman History class to learn of the example of Cincinnatus (for whom the city is named), who laid down his plow to lead Rome as dictator through a dire threat and then returned straight to his furrow? Why, when we so desperately need to be reminded of such models of patriotism, self-sacrifice, nobility, and duty, do we no longer teach our youth their stories and give them as heroes?

One of the greatest benefits of history is simply the ability to glean from the finest and most inspiring examples of mankind from the endless cache the written record has to offer. We ignore such a wealth to our own republic’s great disservice and, I might even add, danger.

But I suppose we’re lucky today when a Primary school textbook stops to mention the even the names of America’s Founding Fathers. How long can a Republic survive when it neglects even the heroes of its own political heritage?

"To blog or not to blog"...

Ah, a virtual Hamlet I am not.

But the question that troubles me greatly and nearly prevents me from beginning this blog is thus:
Is not blogging an inherently narcisstic activity?

Perhaps the occasional visitor, perhaps the bored, wandering internet addict getting his or her fix, but no one else--save the author--really reads the work.

Blogs are mini-speeches that are rehearsed only to oneself, but often with the pretension of speaking to a crowd.

And yet... there is comfort in hearing one's own voice. It is productive to put one's ephemeral thoughts into print. And perhaps one day someone will overhear--overhear and even resonate.

Thus, I too will join the cluttered world of the blog, yet another voice in the ever filling blogosphere.

I beg your pardon, imagined reader, for what I know will be the great infrequency of the posts.