A woman (Blake Lively) who ceases to age is at the center of the serious fantasy romance, The Age of Adeline (2015), which is not without sentimentality and phony melodrama.  It was made in such a way as to impress on our minds a contemporary world essentially no different from the early 20th century, when the woman’s miracle occurred.  Very little here, however, keeps the film from being a regrettable waste of time.

English: Blake Lively at the 2011 Time 100 gala. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

In my review of Lila, I made mention of hell.  This is where Bill Wiese says he spent 23 minutes, despite being a Christian, when God sent him there to find out what hell is like.  His account of this is in a book he wrote and in many stage lectures.

Okay, but Matthew 25:46 teaches that there is correction (kolasis, “punishment” in the King James Bible) beyond this world.  And clearly there is no correction in the place Mr. Wiese describes, but only torture.  Nonstop.  Aside from this, however, it must be admitted that a lot of contradictions exist in Bill’s story.  For instance, the time that this experience in hell began has varied from telling to telling, so that we can’t even be sure it lasted 23 minutes.  It might have been shorter or longer.

Lila, in the 2014 novel Lila by Marilynne Robinson, is a destitute and abandoned child who begins to be cared for by a scrappy woman called Doll (who later dies) and ends up marrying the familiar Robinson figure, John Ames.  Being a true believer in Christ, Robinson has made Ames an elderly Calvinist preacher, and it becomes palpable to faulty Lila that her Christian husband is a good man.  Not so realistic, even so, is Ames’s wedding the unreligious girl since Christians are prohibited by the Bible (in I Cor. 7:39) from marrying non-Christians.

In any event, it does allow the preacher to ponder for Lila’s sake the “mystery of existence.”  Ames can explain very little to her, to a wife who does not know, or understand, God.  She gets baptized but also tries to wash the baptism off her.  She casually declines to believe that the friends she had as a young girl deserve to go to hell, and, to be sure, the novel seems to convey that the doctrine of hell, or “hell,” is too much for humanity to process and handle.  This includes Christians. . . Nevertheless, such a thing cannot negate the truth about a life of faith.  Ames’s marriage is a “sorrow’ to him (he married a non-Christian) but his faith in the Savior isn’t.  Significantly, marvelously, it is an enduring salvific faith which runs from Ezekiel to Calvin to this old man in 1930s-40s rural America.

I had to read Lila slowly, but found it very rewarding.  It is a gentle novel whose concern for theology is surpassed only by a concern for character.

By now, can a TV episode about a baby’s delivery be made interesting?  In its season finale, Jane the Virgin proves it can be.  Sure, the delivery itself comes close to being ho-hum, but everything swirling around it produces the bouncy richness I’ve enjoyed in the best episodes.

Consider the gamut of emotions, mostly in Jane: minutes before giving birth and smiling lovingly at her new son, our heroine gets truly angry at Rafael.  Then, post-birth, she has a warm feeling for him.  Consider also the subplot—or is it plot?—complications yielding a couple of shockers of sorts at the end (e.g., Petra and the . . . sperm).

It’s pretty imaginative.  I wrote in an earlier review that the stakes in Jane never seem very high.  They do now.

Until the fall, then  (when we’ll be saying, “Yay, Rodriguez is back!”)

Frank Capra blew it in Platinum Blonde (1931), wherein society girl Anne (Jean Harlow) attempts to convert her new husband Stew (Robert Williams), a vigorous newspaper reporter, into a luxury-embracing aristocrat.  For a long while it’s an interesting romantic comedy with genuine laughs, but it lacks a well-developed plot.  It’s fine that it mocks snobbishness, but it becomes self-righteous about social class as well as, to me, deplorably stupid about marriage and divorce (NO-FAULT all the way).

Continually a certain unlikeliness hangs over the proceedings.

I hate Platinum Blonde.

Platinum Blonde (film) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)