The main difference between closed captions and subtitles is that subtitles are used in instances when another language is spoken on screen, whereas closed captions are used throughout an entire video or film.
This book is the outcome of a project with multiple layers--a three-semester series from 2008-2009 at the University of Florida during which the contributing authors delivered public lectures and led seminars for graduate students and faculty, as well as a panel at the 2011 American Historical Association meeting. In order that the book might also be of use to undergraduates and the \"general community\" (vii), the editors chose twelve scholars whose work has \"exemplified compelling strategies for negotiating the difficulties inherent\" in the study and teaching of religion in history (3). In this they were very successful, for many of the contributors to this volume are not only leading lights in their own fields but have also been able to speak to wider audiences: for instance, Peter Brown, Anthony Grafton, and Mark Noll. The essays are almost uniform in their clarity and accessibility, as the authors effectively convey the larger implications of their particular subjects. If the third element of the subtitle, \"objectivity,\" (meaning here \"scholarly integrity,\" 2) is not always an explicit element of discussion in the collected essays, it is certainly implicitly on display in the historians themselves.
The opening essay, Susanna Elm's \"Pagan Challenge, Christian Response: Emperor Julian and Gregory of Nazianzus as Paradigms of Interreligious Discourse,\" examines the impact of Julian's writings on the development of Gregory's theology. By taking Julian seriously as a religious thinker, and by attending closely to Gregory's orations as responses to Julian, Elm works to overcome the \"binary narratives\" that often ignore the close, \"religious\" interactions of Christian theologians and pagans in the late Roman Empire (18). Peter Brown's \"Between Syria and Egypt: Alms, Work, and the 'Holy Poor'\" emerged from the research for his recent work on poverty in Late Antiquity, yet this essay has its own emphases as it asks, \"[W]ho, actually, were 'the poor'\" in the third and fourth centuries (32). To answer this question, Brown traces the contrasts between, on the one hand, a Syrian monastic tradition that saw monks as entitled to monetary support to free them from shameful labor, and on the other, the Egyptian monastic tradition represented by St. Anthony, the tradition which ultimately triumphed and which insisted that monks ought to work and provide alms to the truly needy. John Van Engen's essay, \"Medieval Monks on Labor and Leisure,\" continues along similar lines, focusing on twelfth-century monastic attitudes towards work and leisure. Paying close attention to terminology, Van Engen argues for the recognition of religion's role in shaping concepts often deemed 'secular.' He shows the precise process whereby monks revalued work by identifying tasks such as prayer and reading as equivalent to manual labor, but only by seeing these tasks as spiritual guards against \"idle leisure\" (61). The final contribution to part one is David Nirenberg's \"Sibling Rivalries, Scriptural Communities: What Medieval History Can and Cannot Teach Us about Relations between Judaism, Christianity, and Islam.\" By his own admission, this essay is \"as much sermon as science\" (79), addressing what Nirenberg sees as the doleful effects of contemporary misunderstandings of scriptural traditions and of what precisely the past can teach us. At the same time, Nirenberg provides close textual exegesis of key scriptural passages, in particular from the Quran, passages that themselves encourage multiple interpretations; he does so to offer a persuasive model for how \"Scripture itself does not force us to choose between historicism and faith\" (75).
When the subtitles come, my eyes flit between text and image and I try to separate out the voices, to make sense of them. But the sense does not come. I learn to accept this, and I feel more at ease. This is the heuristic practice of negotiation at work. Understood as a complex set of processes, rather than a merely translational tool, we can appreciate subtitles for the kinds of transformational cinematic experiences they bring about, in which we move from one spectatorial state to another.
In a review both laudatory and typical of the critical consensus, Gilbert describes the television movie, with a screenplay by Kushner, \"as trenchant, poetic, fantastical, and moving as its source\" and goes on to call it \"the most powerful television experience of the year.\" Gilbert sees a distinct advantage to shrinking Angels to the small screen, asserting that one of the adaptation's \"miracles\" is that television nurtures the paradoxical phenomenon of making Angels both \"intimate and epic at the same time,\" thus allowing viewers to find drama in the small details discernible through facial close-ups, as well as the play's \"Big Themes.\" Indeed, the film's opening credits promise a sweeping epic; befitting Kushner's subtitle of the play as a \"Gay Fantasia on National Themes,\" the viewer is treated to a bird's eye (angel's eye) perspective of America. As the camera transverses the American continent from west to east to the accompaniment of celestial music, clouds intermittently part to reveal landmarks either central to the play's events and themes (the Golden Gate Bridge, the Mormon Temple in Salt Lake City) or representative of American pioneer spirit and capitalist values (the St. Louis Gateway Arch, Chicago's Sears Tower). Appropriately, the credits end as the camera glides down past New York's Empire State Building to Central Park, where it rests before one of the play's central images, the Bethesda Fountain. Foreshadowing the play's flashes of magic realism, the credits fade after the fountain's metal angel, with its frozen, fixed expression, momentarily shows signs of life. 59ce067264