RE: Kirk Cameron-Don't drink the koolaid and think Christmas had pagan origins.
November 12, 2014 at 6:32 pm
(November 12, 2014 at 5:56 pm)Esquilax Wrote: I get the feeling that Kirk Cameron is stupid enough that it'd be possible to trick him into working on a subtle anti-christianity movie. You know, just make the shallow, surface level stuff the same kind of persecution-bait bullcrap he usually does, but write in sufficient subtext that the true message is clear to anyone willing to investigate.
You could do it quite easily. Set it in the 30 years war, your main protagonists a bright eyed and charming, but very devout Protestant soldier fighting Catholics on European continent. Set it from his POV, and he thinks that the old corrupt church is trying to suppress the True Christians ™. One scene where you could make the true poke through is where you see the remains of a pyre in a small town he passes through. In this town there is young woman that is a mute working the tables and kitchen for their host. The devil took her tongue is the explanation. Another way to make the antichrisianity poke through is that there is another, a somewhat higher in the protagonists company who is a nihilist that is utterly wrecked by what we would call PTSD. Despite this he is a veteran, and a excellent soldier. He saves the life of the protagonist early on, and the protagonist tries to befriend him, but he remains aloof. Then one day they are alone and he kind of snaps. After that the protagonist tell others about this fearing for Gus friends soul. After thst the protagonist sees him as fundamentally broken and quietly disappears.
That's from the last half hour
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
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