Gifted – A Review

Well, I am batting a thousand this year, aren’t I? I missed posting this past weekend, readers. In the immortal words of Charlie Brown: “AUUGH!!!” (Cue head banging on the desk in self-frustration.) Sigh….

Yes, Life happened last week, and that was why there was no post. I do apologize, readers. This is not something the Mithril Guardian does on purpose. Sometimes life just…. Happens.

But we are here now, so let us make the best of it. Today’s topic is the film Gifted. Starring Chris Evans in the lead role of Frank Adler, the story follows Frank as he raises his young niece, Mary. Mary is a girl with a high IQ; she is already a math genius, despite her young age. After her mother – Frank’s sister – committed suicide, he took her away from her grandmother to raise her as a normal girl. Having done his best to homeschool her up to this point, Frank has decided it is time for Mary to go to public school in order to socialize and make friends her own age.

Unfortunately for him, Mary does not want to go. As she later admits, she finds most children her age boring; they do not have enough accumulated life experience to make them seem interesting to her. But her uncle insists and so, reluctantly, she gets on the bus and goes to school.

To say it is a rough first day is an understatement. Mary makes all kinds of impressions on the other kids, her teacher, and the principal. The teacher is impressed, the kids snicker, and the principal calls Frank after his niece uses some strong language she should know better than to say. He comes to pick Mary up, then scolds her not only for mouthing off to the principle, but for showing the teacher what she can do. When said teacher – Bonnie Stevenson – comes out to suggest that Mary may be gifted, he does his best to throw the woman off track.

It does not work. The next day, instead of the regular first grade math assignment, Bonnie gives Mary an algebra test. While it is more challenging than the first grade test, the girl finishes it in record time. She also comes to respect her first grade teacher, setting up a strong rapport between the two.

Sadly, Bonnie’s attempt to teach/entertain Mary does not go unnoticed. Neither does the girl’s ferocious defense of a boy in her class, who is bullied on the bus on the way to school. This incident leads to Frank landing in the principal’s office. The woman in charge of the school, smelling prestige and profit, offers him a scholarship for Mary due to her gifted intellect. Frank tells her in no uncertain terms that he is not interested.

But that does not stop the principal. She puts in a few calls and, a couple of days later, Frank’s mother appears on his doorstep.

Although he loves her, Frank also resents his mother for several reasons, not least the fact that she insists on taking Mary away from him. Evelyn Adler is a gifted mathematician in her own right, but she is nowhere near as good as Mary. Nor is she as good as Mary’s mother and Frank’s younger sister, Diane.

When Diane proved capable of solving math problems faster than her mother, Evelyn dedicated her daughter’s life to the subject. She had tried the same thing with her husband and Frank, but neither man had the talent to the same degree Diane did. Having lived her entire life isolated from the outside world so she could focus on math, it is not too surprising that Diane would get desperate enough to go out with any man who would take her, resulting in Mary’s birth.

It is also no surprise that she ended up taking her own life when Mary was six months old.

Evelyn asks politely for Frank to hand Mary over to her so the girl can complete Diane’s work. When her son refuses, she drags him to court, pulling open old wounds for both of them. Having never taken legal guardianship of his niece, Frank is skating on thin ice, while his mother refuses to admit that she had anything to do with her daughter’s suicide.

I do not want to spoil the finale for the film, readers, so that is all I will say about the plot. Aside from Chris Evans, there are a couple of other familiar faces in the cast, including John M. Jackson, whom fans of JAG will recognize as Admiral A.J. Chegwidden. It was quite a surprise to see him here, since it is not easy for this blogger to keep up with all the JAG alumni as they continue on in there career. The only one I have been able to follow with a smattering of regularity is Catherine Bell, since her Good Witch film series keeps her in the spotlight.

Gifted is a great movie showing a father doing everything he can to protect his daughter. Though Frank is not her biological father and does worry he is not taking care of her properly, he truly loves Mary and wants what is best for her. Even when he makes mistakes he does so because he is desperate not to ruin his adopted daughter’s life. And when he realizes those mistakes, he takes quick action to repair the damage he has caused.

The film also takes an unflinching, very realistic look at the foster care system, custody battles, and the sad treatment of far too many “gifted” youths in modern society. Evelyn’s single-minded desire is to achieve fame by solving a supposedly insoluble mathematical equation. She killed her daughter in an attempt to do it and has no qualms about repeating the process with her granddaughter, whom she did not want in the first place. As fictional villains go, I would have to say she beats everyone but Maleficent and Thanos hollow. This woman is nasty.

And what makes her such a strong villain is that she does not seem nasty. She doesn’t yell, scream, or holler. In fact, she apologizes to Frank multiple times, stating, “I don’t want to hurt you.” But in truth she has no problem hurting him, any more than she had an issue with wounding her husband, her granddaughter, and especially her own daughter.

Talk about a piece of work, readers.

If you have not seen Gifted, I strongly recommend that you view it at the earliest opportunity. The movie does not have a lot of action, but it still left me close to tears by the time the credits rolled. Avengers: Endgame did not wear me out the way that Gifted did. This story is intense – as intense as the love of a father for his daughter.

But you do not need to take my word for it. Check out the movie and see for yourself. And pack a box of tissues, just in case. I wish I had done that when I settled down to watch the film first.

Until next time,

The Mithril Guardian

Lucinda Matlock by Edgar Lee Masters

Lucinda Matlock

Edgar Lee Masters, 1868 – 1950

I went to the dances at Chandlerville,

And played snap-out at Winchester.

One time we changed partners,

Driving home in the moonlight of middle June,

And then I found Davis.

We were married and lived together for seventy years,

Enjoying, working, raising the twelve children,

Eight of whom we lost

Ere I had reached the age of sixty.

I spun, I wove, I kept the house, I nursed the sick,

I made the garden, and for holiday

Rambled over the fields where sang the larks,

And by Spoon River gathering many a shell,

And many a flower and medicinal weed–

Shouting to the wooded hills, singing to the green valleys.

At ninety-six I had lived enough, that is all,

And passed to a sweet repose.

What is this I hear of sorrow and weariness,

Anger, discontent and drooping hopes?

Degenerate sons and daughters,

Life is too strong for you–

It takes life to love Life.

One Life: A Human’s a Human, No Matter How Small

I think that Peeta was onto something about us destroying one another and letting some decent species take over. Because something is significantly wrong with a creature that sacrifices its children’s lives to settle its differences. – Katniss Everdeen in Mockingjay (Emphasis added)

This week there have been and are going to be several marches for life protesting legalized abortion across the United States. If you are pro-choice and believe abortion is okay, you should remember something very important: you were once a twenty week old “lump of cells” in your mother’s body, too.

We all were. We were all three day old cells carried by our mothers’; we were all eight month old unborn babies – except for those of us who were born premature. Then we were brought into the world even earlier. And you know what? We all – eventually – looked like this when we were born, premature or otherwise: healthy infants.

 Did you ever think about babies who were born premature, readers? They were born before they were, as the cliché goes, “viable outside of the womb.” But are we going to argue that these premature infants are not human beings? If so, we are lying to ourselves.

This means that the argument that the “fetus” to be aborted is just an unfeeling lump of cells at these stages is very unscientific. Premature babies are not unfeeling lumps of cells, are they? They can cry and move, make faces, and need their diapers changed just like healthy babies born nine months after conception.

At twenty weeks, one of the favored stages for an abortion, the baby has a head, arms, legs, and can make facial expressions, not to mention move around. A woman can hear and feel the baby hiccup sometimes at that point, too. Three days after conception, a heartbeat can be detected from that single cell which will grow into a baby.

To say this argument over abortion is about a woman’s right to control her body is silly. Yes, a woman has a right to control her own body. But does she have the right to control the body of the person she is carrying? Has no one stopped to ask that question?

Why is a baby that is wanted, or “planned,” referred to as a baby while in the womb, but a baby that is unwanted or “unplanned” is spoken of as a “lump of cells” or “tissue”? If the latter is true, then there should be no joy for a couple when the pregnancy test comes back positive and no sorrow when a woman suffers a miscarriage.

Yet this is what happens. Why the societal dichotomy?

Maybe you should ask yourself this very important question, too, readers: What if my mother had aborted me?

You would not be here to read this if that were the case. You would either be zapped out of existence, dissected in utero, or “harvested” and your body parts sold to the highest bidder. What if your mother had decided to abort you? Do you want to help abortionists do that to the next Albert Einstein, Marilyn Monroe, Helen Keller, Martin Luther King Jr., or John F. Kennedy? Do you want to continue to support infanticide?

Think about it, readers. Think about it harder than you have ever thought about anything else in your life. This is not a battle with a fence to sit on. This is a battle between life and death. Which do you choose?

One Minute for Life – An Argument by Doritos

The advertisement below was played during the American Superbowl earlier this year. I thought it was a rather cute ad, though others found it to be a little bit improper, for various reasons. None of those reactions, however, were in line with the basis for this ad being pulled from television.

No, this Doritos advertisement was rescinded because several pro-choice groups complained that it humanized an unborn baby. I wonder: can you humanize someone who is already human?

I think not. A human’s a human, no matter how small, to paraphrase Dr. Seuss’ inspired elephant Horton, from the book and film Horton Hears a Who. Watch the ad below, readers, and see for yourselves:

Doritos Ad

An unborn baby’s heartbeat can be detected three days after conception. A human’s a human, no matter how small.

The Mithril Guardian

Quotable Quotes #12

I don’t need a friend who changes when I change and who nods when I nod; my shadow does the much better. – Plutarch, Greek essayist

Love is love’s reward. – John Dryden

There are several good protections against temptations, but the surest is cowardice. – Mark Twain

Life is too important to be taken seriously. – Oscar Wilde

Love is a canvas furnished by nature and embroidered by imagination. – Voltaire, French philosopher

The silliest woman can manage a clever man; but it needs a very clever woman to manage a fool. – Rudyard Kipling

It is easier to be wise for others than for ourselves. – Francois de la Rochefoucauld

Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth. – Buddha

It is not length of life but depth of life. – Ralph Waldo Emerson

We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars. – Oscar Wilde

I hate quotations. Tell me what you know. – Ralph Waldo Emerson

Words

Words.  They are such simple little things.  They are as common as sunshine, rain, and breathing.

Words.  We forget what they mean because we use them so often.  Glibly, idly, sharply, softly, happily, or angrily, most everyone uses words to communicate.  But do we really think about the words we use?  Do we ever pause to consider if the word that leaps immediately to mind in a conversation is the word we want to convey our idea as exactly as possible to another person?  I try to do that, but I do not always succeed.

I have favorite words.  I guess everyone has a favorite word or two.  The words I favor are words I enjoy pondering occasionally.  And the list of favorites grows all the time.  But today I thought I would list only a few of them, in the interest of sharing them without overwhelming everyone with reams and reams of those simple little things we call “words.”

 1. “Star”

Star is a small word.  Rhymes with “far.”  Maybe that is why I like it so much.  It makes me think of possibilities, of that something that is just out there, waiting to be seen, experienced – it reminds me that it is just over there.  Just out there…

 2. “Lady”

I have always liked this word.  It sparkles, sort of like a star would.  I think I have liked it since I saw Lady and the Tramp.  A little, two syllable word that rolls off the tongue.  It is a small word, but it can often convey a wealth of respect.

 3. “Roustabouts”

This is a fun word.  It reminds me of the German word ‘raus,’ which means ‘out.’  A roustabout is any unskilled or semiskilled laborer.  It also means “one who stirs up trouble,” according to the Merriam-Webster dictionary. The term is most often applied to oil field workers.  It is also the common name for circus workers, those who raise the tents and handle the animals and equipment for the performers.  “Roustabouts” makes me think of lots of people jumping into a job and having fun doing it.  It is, as I said, a fun word.

 4. “Silver”

This is a word that ripples like water in moonlight; hearing it said, I could care less about the metal it names.  I have seen so many trinkets in Hollywood movies that I often wonder if real gold or silver would rouse any avaricious urges in me.

Regardless, the word still sings to me as Prince Valiant’s sword did, with the music of a distant, little bell.  I hope it always does.

 5. “Storm”

Fury.  Beauty.  Strength.  Power.  Chaos.  That is what the word “storm” brings to my mind.  I have been witness to a lot of thunderstorms in my lifetime.  Some have been absolutely terrifying experiences.  Others have been passing moments of pure excitement.  Whether I ever see another one or no, “storm” will always bring to me the roiling, tumultuous magnificence of those fierce thunderstorms I have seen.

 6. “Singing”

I enjoy music, as everyone should know by now.  But it is not a particular song I am mentioning here.  No, I am talking about the label we give to words someone’s voice sets to music:  “singing.”  If anything else ever gave me the idea of what having wings would feel like, it would be singing.  Somehow, when words are combined with the proper rhythm, I just want to fly.

Of course, the feeling and the reality hardly complement each other, since I have no wings with which to fly.  But someday I may not have that obstacle.

 7. “Trust”

This word rhymes nicely with ‘rust.’ And oh, how quickly “trust” can “rust” away when it is misused or taken under false pretenses.  I would much rather have trust than all the jewels in Smaug’s stolen hoard.  This one small word, delicate as old metal, is more precious (pardon the pun) than even the brilliant Arkenstone of Erebor to me.  And yet I think you could more easily discover a hundred Arkenstones in a day than you could find simple little “trust” in a lifetime.

 8. “Hope”

“Hope” is a word I was ruminating on almost a year ago now, when I was contemplating what my first blog posts should be about.

“Hope” is a small word, like most of the others I have so far listed.  Say it quickly or carelessly, and its lifespan is as short as frail glass.  Say it carefully and thoughtfully, though, and you may find that it lingers in the air somewhat longer than a snowflake in mid-August.  “Hope” is a small but stubborn word.  It always manages to pop up in a sentence somewhere, “I hope they have the book I want at the library!”; “I hope I win the lottery!”; “I hope it doesn’t rain!”; etc.

It peeks out at us the way that elves peek out at the heroes in fairytales from behind trees.  Elusive, spritely, and full of cheer, it can also be as stubborn as a taut rope.  When all seems bleak, dark, and lost, something keeps us tied tightly to the possibility of tomorrow.  Something small, fragile, but durable as a diamond:  “hope.”

 9. “Life”

The most mysterious small word in the English language – second only to “love” – is, possibly, “life.”  So many people struggle to define this small, four letter, and one syllable word.  Even biologists, those students of “life,” cannot agree on its exact meaning.  What is “life”?

It is a word I taste more than I see or hear it.  It has a dewy, moist taste.  This word settles on my mind, when I sit down and really think about it, like mist settles on my tongue on a foggy day.  Mystifying, yet electrifying, full of risk yet beckoning with promise.  As I think about “life” I suddenly feel as though there are no boundaries in the world.  As if I could just get up and run out the door to the endless horizon and keep going, a la Bilbo Baggins.  But if I ever give myself the chance to answer that seductive urge, I may just leave behind more than my pocket handkerchief!  There are moments when I want to leave behind all necessities and just rush off after that tempting something whispering to me from the distance.  Someday, I might just chase after it.

And then I will completely understand what Louis L’Amour meant when he told his daughter, “Adventure is just a romantic word for trouble.”  J

These are a few of my favorite words, words I enjoy meditating on in quiet moments.  What are the words that you, my readers, enjoy?

Later,

The Mithril Guardian