What On Earth Would Make You Cheer for the White Witch?

Last week, we heard Alan Jacobs lecture on Lewis and the world of Narnia in promotion of his new book, The Narnian: The Life and Imagination of C. S. Lewis. My guess is that you could stream the audio from the lecture somewhere here. Jacobs was fantastic-- presenting an endearing portrait of the man behind Narnia and suggesting his own theory for what compelled Lewis to write the Narnia books. His lecture re-awakended the love for Lewis that was kindled in me by my college mentors Lyle Dorsett and Jerry Root, and left me feeling quite guilty about leaving my Lewis books in a box in Oklahoma.

Narnia-Whitewitch After a phone call revealed that the theater down the street sill had loads of tickets available for the late show last night, Katie and I got the chance to see the film much sooner than we anticipated. We thoroughly enjoyed ourselves (save the redneck in front of us that laughed throughout the film and constantly referred to Edmund as "that bastard").

I won't try to divert attention from all the other interaction and analysis that people are offering of the film-- and will instead direct you to read Steve McCoy's take on the film, which is the most enjoyable personal response I have read thus far. He voiced several of my concerns in the context of a thorough appreciation of the film.

What, you may ask, do the above paragraphs have to do with the title of this post? And, what on earth would make you want to cheer for the White Witch?

It is simple actually. Until I got married, I slept with my windows cracked in the winter (in Chicago). I rarely ran heat (resulting in multiple conflicts between myself and Milton). I have never been in a building, sauna, boiler room, or kitchen that was as hot as the theater we sat in last night. To endure the two hours for me was both tribute to the sheer quality of the film, and, to be honest, a labor of love. I had my sleeves rolled up, my pants rolled up, and was taunted all the more by my beautiful wife who sat comfortably next to me in a down vest. The snow driven Narnia was the only connection I had to any semblance of comfort temperature-wise. And, as I watched the snow and ice melt away on the screen, I couldn't help but lament the loss of "thinking" about being cold; wonder how much of that was the result of the temperature in the theater; and half-lament the fact that Aslan was really on the move.

I hope all of you enjoy the film as much as we did-- and find yourself in slightly more agreeable climates as you watch.