If I were a Christian filmmaker/scriptwriter

WN asked me today: if I was a Christian filmmaker/scriptwriter, what sort of film would I make? He caught me off-guard and I had to say I didn't know. So here's an attempt at an answer. This isn't new, but it's worth restating.

Firstly, every person and every culture has a Big Story, one in which they both shape and are shaped by. Within this Big Story there might be many sub-plots. However, the movement in each of these stories will include in some form creation-fall-redemption-restoration. Any story will seek an answer, explicitly or implicitly, to the well-known four questions posed by Richard Middleton and Brian Walsh:

1. Who am I? Or what is the nature, task, and purpose of human beings?
2. Where am I? Or What is the nature of the world and universe we live in?
3. What's wrong? Or what is the basic problem or obstacle that keeps me from obtaining fulfillment?
4. What is the remedy? How do I solve this problem or where do I find salvation?

This includes films. It could be said, in fact, that films are one of the primary ways in which people attempt to make sense of their place in the world today. Whether they ponder over a so-called weighty film or simply seek solace in a light-hearted comedy, they are still in some way engaging in the task of sense-making. Every film, in summary, offers a vision of what the world is like, and how the world ought to be.

The Christian filmmaker or scriptwriter is aware that his faith claims to have the True Story. We understand that we are to understand humanity in light of God and of sin, and we know where redemption is to be found. Therefore, "it follows that storytellers in our Christian community carry a major responsibility for keeping us alert to these stories and the way they work." (Eugene Peterson). This is because stories can grab us in ways mere arguments can't, and stories always reveal something about their creators. "We feel the emotions, get caught up in the drama, identify with the characters, see into nooks and crannies of life that we had overlooked, realize there is more to this business of being human tan we had yet explored. If the storyteller is good, doors and windows open." (Peterson) So if I were a Christian film-maker or scriptwriter, then I must offer a vision of how the world is like, and how it ought to be, in line with a Christian worldview.

But how I go about that is up to me and my (imagined!) creativity! The possibilities are vast. Think of some recent films. The Dark Knight, for example, might seem to be the antithesis of what a Christian film-maker should offer, but one of the things the film does so effectively is offer a very chilling vision, via the Joker, of what a world ruled by chance and randomness rather than God would look like. This is not to claim that the Dark Knight is a "Christian" movie. Nonetheless, it is extremely effective at jolting us out of our complacency and opening our eyes to the hideousness of a fallen world. Any script that can do that is worth exploring, although I would never allow it to fall into a hopeless cesspool of despair. If in Genesis 3, God himself already offers hints of hope (v.15), then surely we should do the same.

But a Christian filmmaker doesn't have to be so "arty". I think one sort of film I might like to make is a romantic comedy which doesn't envision the partner as the saviour who "makes me whole". That would be incredibly counter-cultural. If it's done well, I think that would have a bigger impact than some "weighty" film. What the viewer of such a film will encounter is the truth that even Mr. or Mrs. Right can't function as your redeemer. What would be great too is a film that celebrates marriage, as most recently Fireproof does, given the dominant image of marriage in films to be dowdy and "a trap". [Spoiler alert] I can't remember much of the film Forces of Nature, but I do remember the ending, where the main character chooses to go back to his marriage partner instead of making off with his fling. That came as a genuine shock. I don't remember the rest of the film being very good, but if it had been better executed, then I can imagine that ending carrying a real poignancy and weight about it. [end spoiler alert]

Does a Christian filmmaker need to make an explicitly "Christian" film, i.e one in which the gospel is proclaimed? Well, they could. I would love to see a film with actual characters with an evangelical faith, not cardboard stereotypes, and if I were a good film-maker, I would love to explore such a character. But I don't think a Christian film-maker necessarily needs to do so. A film should rest on the foundational biblical storyline, and perhaps show the weaknesses of an alternative storyline, but it doesn't always have to be about the climax of that storyline (the gospel event). We could show the beauty in the everyday, in the nature of true friendship, for example. I'm thinking of something like The Station Agent. Or the nature of true sacrifice in some epic. And so on.

I suppose there's plenty more to be said, but hopefully that provides the beginnings of an answer!

You can also browse some of my previous posts on films


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Wordsmiths: Dream Song 14

Dream Song 14

Life, friends, is boring. We must not say so.
After all, the sky flashes, the great sea yearns,
we ourselves flash and yearn,
and moreover my mother told me as a boy
(repeatingly) "Ever to confess you're bored
means you have no

Inner Resources." I conclude now I have no
inner resources, because I am heavy bored.
Peoples bore me,
literature bores me, especially great literature,
Henry bores me, with his plights & gripes
as bad as Achilles,

who loves people and valiant art, which bores me.
And the tranquil hills, & gin, look like a drag
and somehow a dog
has taken itself & its tail considerably away
into the mountains or sea or sky, leaving
behind: me, wag.

John Berryman

Wordsmiths: Goodnight / They Sit Together on the Porch

It's been ages and ages since I've actually featured a wordsmith, since I moved back to Oxford, I think! So I thought I may as well do two wordsmiths at one go! I've stolen the first one from Steve McCoy's National Poetry Month blogfest. The second is from Wendell Berry, a writer who's thought long and hard about the natural world, and whom I would love to get to know more. Both, I guess, are loosely connected thematically and capture the way a day fades away beautifully. Enjoy! (Photo: Michael Dressel. For previous wordsmiths featured on this blog, click here.)

Goodnight by David Ferry
Lying in bed and waiting to find out
Whatever is going to happen: the window shade

Making its slightest sound as the night wind,
Outside, in the night, breathes quietly on it;

It is parental hovering over the infantile;
Something like that; it is like being a baby,

And over the sleep of the baby there is a father,
Or mother, breathing, hovering; the streetlight light

In the nighttime branches breathing quietly too;
Altering; realtering; it is the body breathing;

The crib of knowing: something about what the day
Will bring; and something about what the night will hold,

Safely, at least for the rest of the night, I pray.

---

They Sit Together on the Porch by Wendell Berry

They sit together on the porch, the dark
Almost fallen, the house behind them dark.
Their supper done with, they have washed and dried
The dishes–only two plates now, two glasses,
Two knives, two forks, two spoons–small work for two.
She sits with her hands folded in her lap,
At rest. He smokes his pipe. They do not speak,
And when they speak at last it is to say
What each one knows the other knows. They have
One mind between them, now, that finally
For all its knowing will not exactly know
Which one goes first through the dark doorway, bidding
Goodnight, and which sits on a while alone.

Wordsmiths: The farthest thunder that I heard

I haven't yet featured Emily Dickinson as a wordsmith, which is quite something considering I find her a fascinating poet. Time to rectify that as I think on "life's reverberation"!



[Poem 109]
The Farthest thunder that I heard
Was nearer than the sky,
And rumbles still, though torrid noons
Have lain their missiles by.
The lightning that preceded it
Struck no one but myself,
But I would not exchange the bolt
For all the rest of life.
Indebtedness to oxygen
The chemist may repay,
But not the obligation
To electricity.
It founds the homes and decks the days,
And every clamor bright
Is but the gleam concomitant
Of that waylaying light.
The thought is quiet as a flake,—
A crash without a sound;
How life’s reverberation
Its explanation found!

The wrap

Hurrah for the Beeb for enabling me to at least follow some of the Olympics live on their website. The early story to have caught the imagination so far is following Michael Phelps on his quest for the highest gold-medal haul in history. I've managed to follow some badminton too, although I haven't seen any of the Malaysians in action.

However, while the Olympics and its emphasis on harmony show how the world ought to be, the war currently raging in Georgia sadly reminds us of how the world currently is. War and peace starkly juxtaposed, as the Guardian reminded us in its headline on Saturday. They've got a brief Q&A on the war, and Ian Traynor sets it in context.

The Economist has a feature on religious conversion, and Malaysia gets discussed a little bit, unsurprisingly, given that this is still a touchy issue as evidenced by the controversy over the Bar Council forum.

Paternoster editor and author of Worshipping Trinity Robin Parry now has a blog.

Although JollyBlogger tends to fly more under the radar these days, he's still a very good read. There's a very insightful post pondering on the question 'How do you maintain your desire for God?' with some perhaps surprising observations. There's also excellent book reviews of Do I know God? from Tullian Tchvidjian and Roger Olson's Arminian Theology.

What are some of the biggest challenges facing the globe today, and which ones should command our attention the most, especially from a cost-effective viewpoint? The Copenhagen Consensus gathered a team of economists to probe this very question. Here's a brief summary of their findings - Defeating Global Poverty: Bang for the Buck.

Don't know how many people saw this in CT a few weeks ago: The 30 Day Leviticus Challenge. In a nutshell, a church decided to try an experiment whereby they live out the laws of Leviticus as much as they can for a month. Fascinating, although it also begs the question of where exactly Levitical laws fit into the lives of Christians, post-Jesus, today.

Are C.S Lewis, JK Rowling and Philip Pullman overrated?

Tim Keller on theological training.

Sorry, couldn't resist. Going gaga over Emirates' new Airbus A380s.

Theo Walcott interview. Seems like a level-headed guy in the mold of Michael Owen.

The Wrap wraps up with some stunning pictures, speaking of haunting desolation. Silent World by Michael Kenna. The picture at the start of this post belongs to him.

Wordsmiths: The Foolishness of God

This is one of my favourite poems of all time, from Luci Shaw. I first came across it in The Christian Imagination where it left its indelible footprint. One of these days I'll love to track down her poetry collection, either Polishing the Petoskey Stone or Angles of Light. For now, enjoy this reminder of the topsy-turvy nature of God's kingdom!

.

The Foolishness of God

Perform impossibilities
or perish. Thrust out now
the unseasonal ripe figs
among your leaves. Expect
the mountain to be moved.
Hate parents, friends and all
materiality. Love every enemy.
Forgive more times than seventy-
seven. Camel-like squeeze by
into the kingdom through
the needle’s eye. All fear quell.
Hack off your hand, or else,
unbloodied, go to hell

Thus the divine unreason.
Despairing now, you cry
with earthly logic—How?
And I, your God, reply:
Leap from your weedy shallows.
Dive into the moving water.
Eyeless, learn to see
truly. Find in my folly your
true sanity. Then, Spirit-driven,
run on my narrow way, sure
as a child. Probe, hold
my unhealed hand, and
bloody, enter heaven.

Movies and convictions

I've just finished listening to a fantastic podcast from the folks over at Christ and Pop Culture. They discuss the recent controversy over the Sex and the City review posted at Christianity Today, but it's a great listen even for those who aren't interested in or haven't followed this particular maelstrom. As I've said before, it's not so much SatC but the attitudes of Christians towards culture (not that any of us can ever escape from our cultural context) which interests me and this podcast is particularly thoughtful on that front.

What they do so well is to show where both sides of the debate have got it right, and wrong. Along the way, they helpfully address the important contextual questions of audience and reception and what to expect from a movie review. This takes up about 2/3s of the podcast, and the remaining 1/3 is dedicated to helping us think through whether or not we should see a particular movie. More than that, I thought that they showed a keen awareness of the Pauline distinction between Scriptural areas of command and personal areas of conviction and applied it very well. This is a big theme in Paul's writings and touches not only on films but on many other parts of life so it's good that it was at the very least implicit throughout their discussion. Definitely worth a listen. (45 mins)

SatC and the question of cultural engagement

CT's review of Sex and the City has provoked something of a storm, with Ted Slater of Boundlessline going as far as hyperbolically attacking them for relishing sexual perversion. Now I'm not exactly the target demographic for this show, having never watched a single episode, and I don't plan to change that. Actually, what I'm interested in here is not Sex and the City, but rather that this debate has once again raised questions of what cultural engagement looks like. I occasionally write book and film reviews on this blog, and I've always wanted to sketch out a little of how I engage as a Christian with things like these, especially after my post on Philip Pullman. Rather than lay out anything comprehensive at this point, I just thought I'll lay out a few basic points, and then maybe speak a little about this particular debate with these points in mind.

1. It is clear that Scripture gives us freedom on a number of issues. Nevertheless, we should bear in mind the weaker brother/sister in love. To slightly adapt a biblical example, I might not think that eating idol food has any consequences because of my belief that God is the one true living God, I might refrain if I think a Christian brother or sister who sees me doing that as a result, might struggle.

2. On the flip side, there is the opposite danger in which a Christian insists on a certain ritual/rule/prohibition that becomes normative for all Christians, and thus falls into the trap of legalism. Circumcision would be the obvious eg. in the NT. Paul got really worked up about this because he saw that it posed a real threat to the gospel. A contemporary eg. in some circles might be alcohol: either you're teetotal or you're not really a Christian.

3. I approach books/films/other cultural artifacts worldviewishly, which I find is a much more helpful angle to take. Instead of simply asking: is this morally good or bad (which are not wrong questions in themselves, but don't often lead very far because films and literature tend to be complex), it's far better to ask worldview questions of it. How does the film conceive of ultimate reality? Does it describe our own experience of the world? What does it say about the director's own views? What questions or issues are raised? Are there "true truths", i.e truths which Christians can agree on, here? Do you feel like the film has given you any true insights into the world, or has it just felt depressing/a cheap shot/etc.? How does the Christian faith speak into this particular situation or setting?

4. This doesn't mean we can justify going to watch any movie - the Bible does talk about fleeing from immorality. But it also recognises that different people struggle with different things, and we should also take into account things like maturity and stage of life. Some people are more astute cultural critics than others, and that should be taken into account as well. We should be equipping Christians to engage with culture better.

One of the basic issues in this debate is that different people have different expectations from a film review from an evangelical publication. Since I regularly read CT reviews, I get the sense that the editors don't want to babysit you and so will not tell you what or what not to watch, but I think a large swath of readers wanted something more prescriptive: watch/don't watch this movie! In some ways, the reviewer also treated her review as somewhat of a personal essay, which is not necessarily something wrong; lots of film reviewers like Ebert do it.

Having said all that, I am actually in basic sympathy with those who oppose the movie. I think Camerin Courtney could have been more careful with her words and should have done better at pointing out the immorality in the movie beyond "There's a threesome." But I'm not sure Ted Slater's initial riposte was all that helpful. The best response is actually from Carolyn McCulley. It's thoughtful and frames the issues much better. But the point of this post isn't really about who's right or who's wrong, but the way we think these things through - it's not just the conclusion that counts in this case, but how we get there.

Bear in mind I'm not trying to be comprehensive here, but am just making a couple of points. If you want a (very much imperfect) eg. of how I try to engage worldviewishly with culture, have a look at my review of Kate Winslet's Little Children.


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Caspian, adaptation, summation, disappointment?

I've been seeing very mixed reviews on Prince Caspian so far. Granted, I've been reading mainly the Christian reviewers I respect (Overstreet, Chattaway, Greydanus) rather than the more mainstream ones but given this is Narnia after all...

Anyway, in a nutshell, people are generally agreed that as a piece of filmmaking, it's actually pretty good, and even superior to the first instalment. Some are even prepared to say that it improves on the original plotline. I was interested to discover that Caspian seems to be regarded as the weakest of the Narnia books. I suppose it is true that in terms of the pacing of the book, it isn't always the best: lots of travelling and exposition. But thematically it's as rich as any other Narnia book, especially in the way it treats memory and maturity. Think of how the Penvensies must remember who they really are in Narnia (they even take a while to realise they're in Narnia!), how the recollection of Old Narnia sustains the hopes of those who oppose Miraz, Edmund's willingness to believe Lucy this time around (cf. Lion, Witch & Wardrobe), and perhaps more indirectly, the way the book itself is structured: extensive flashbacks, a travel narrative that mirrors the coming-of-age of the characters.

But I digress. The big question is: how faithful should the film be to the book, or perhaps a better question is, what counts as a faithful adaptation? How you answer this question will determine your reaction to the cinematic version. I suspect that if you don't care about the book there's no problem at all. [SPOILER ALERT follows for those who want to know absolutely nothing about the film] According to reviews I've been reading, here are some of the changes:

• The contrasts between Old Narnia and "modern" Narnia under Miraz are minimised. That's quite a serious thing, as the (dis)enchantment of the world is a big theme in the book. See Greydanus for more.
  
• Trumpkin becomes Mr. Grumpy, which misses the nuance of the character. In the book, Trumpkin is conflicted but willing and earnest to seek the truth. Sure, this means he's going to be a little gruff on occasion, but in the end he's always trustworthy. Considering that I think one of the key scenes in the book, the dispute between the Badger (whose name currently escapes me) and Nikabrik, is given its power precisely because of Trumpkin's qualities, I'm certainly not optimistic about this.
  
• Reepicheep becomes the wisecracking equivalent of Shrek's Donkey. NOOOOO!!!! Reepicheep is the quintessence of chivalry and valiance. It's because of this that he is occasionally overly zealous, which leads to some pretty funny moments, but ironic he ain't.
  
• As Stephen Altrogge quite memorably put it, Susan has a 'Saved By the Bell'-crush on Caspian. *slaps forehead*
  
• Peter and Caspian have a clash of egos. Actually, I don't have a problem with this change, since I think it doesn't violate the spirit of the book in that both still have some growing up to do. I'm told Peter is actually much stronger in this film, which is a welcome change from the first movie.
  
• Aslan is reduced to a bit role, and Lucy sees Aslan in a dream sequence - not in the book.

As you can plainly see, in this case, I'm all for a faithful adaptation. Personally, I don't think this means following the book slavishly - I have no problem with rearranging or expanding material. I'm glad the LOTR films are the way they are! But a faithful adaptation should seek to be true to the spirit of the book, and judging by the reviews, ugh.

Now to be fair, even the more mixed reviews have pointed out plenty of positives. I've already mentioned that most agree that the film is better on the pacing of the plot. A film buff friend of mine was sold on the Penvensies, whom he says really do shine here. The more positive reviews have faulted Christians for having unrealistic expectations of Hollywood and highlight the general spiritual themes that come through, such as those of faith, courage, the folly of folly. In one sense, that actually makes it more disappointing, because while all these are good, the film seems to have missed the boat in conveying the even richer vision of the book.

Despite that, I think I will go and see the film when it comes out. Who knows, maybe I'll revise my opinion.

REVIEWS
More mixed:
Steven Greydanus - if you read just one review, this is probably it. Balanced and very thoughtful.
Jeffrey Overstreet
Peter Chattaway
Doug Wilson

More positive:
Christ and Pop Culture
John Mark Reynolds
Frederica Mathewes-Green (not a standalone review)
Mark Doebler

For fun: What would Repicheep say?

Wordsmiths: Forget

No wordsmiths were featured last month, so we're definitely due. All credit for today's artisan goes to Steve McCoy, who first featured him on his blog. Being very limited in my knowledge of contemporary poetry, I've only vaguely heard of Czeslaw Milosz, the 1980 Nobel Prize Winner. Milosz was Lithuanian-born, raised in Poland, where he became a political dissident, and eventually emigrated to the United States. He died in 2004. [More on him here.]

Forget

Forget the suffering
You caused others.
Forget the suffering
Others caused you.
The waters run and run,
Springs sparkle and are done,
You walk the earth you are forgetting.

Sometimes you hear a distant refrain.
What does it mean, you ask, who is singing?
A childlike sun grows warm.
A grandson and a great-grandson are born.
You are led by the hand once again.

The names of the rivers remain with you.
How endless those rivers seem!
Your fields lie fallow,
The city towers are not as they were.
You stand at the threshold mute.

Wordsmiths: On the Comfort of the Resurrection

CLOUD-PUFFBALL, torn tufts, tossed pillows ' flaunt forth, then chevy on an air-built thoroughfare: heaven-roysterers, in gay-gangs ' they throng; they glitter in marches.
Down roughcast, down dazzling whitewash, ' wherever an elm arches,
Shivelights and shadowtackle in long ' lashes lace, lance, and pair.
Delightfully the bright wind boisterous ' ropes, wrestles, beats earth bare
Of yestertempest’s creases; in pool and rut peel parches
Squandering ooze to squeezed ' dough, crust, dust; stanches, starches
Squadroned masks and manmarks ' treadmire toil there
Footfretted in it. Million-fuelèd, ' nature’s bonfire burns on.
But quench her bonniest, dearest ' to her, her clearest-selvèd spark
Man, how fast his firedint, ' his mark on mind, is gone!
Both are in an unfathomable, all is in an enormous dark
Drowned. O pity and indig'nation! Manshape, that shone
Sheer off, disseveral, a star, ' death blots black out; nor mark
Is any of him at all so stark
But vastness blurs and time ' beats level. Enough! the Resurrection,
A heart’s-clarion! Away grief’s gasping, ' joyless days, dejection.
Across my foundering deck shone
A beacon, an eternal beam. ' Flesh fade, and mortal trash
Fall to the residuary worm; ' world’s wildfire, leave but ash:
In a flash, at a trumpet crash,
I am all at once what Christ is, ' since he was what I am, and
This Jack, joke, poor potsherd, ' patch, matchwood, immortal diamond,
Is immortal diamond.

Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844-1889)

chevy = chase
stanches = stops the flow
shivelights = slivers of light
firedint = mark made by fire
Jack = ordinary man

---

Notes:
Hopkins is one of my favourite poets. A Catholic, he initially resolved not to write any more poetry upon entering the priesthood, and even burnt some of his earlier poetry. A tragic boating accident which claimed the lives of 5 nuns relieved him of this vow and he wrote a poem in tribute to them. I was actually asked at my university interview to read up on some of his poetics and discuss them with my tutor, which was nerve-wrecking to say the least! Although sadly, I didn't get to spend enough time studying him, the essay I wrote on him for my Victorian Lit module was probably the only time I didn't actually spout complete rubbish - not that I remember anything of what I wrote!

This is not an easy poem to read, so I'll try to provide some guidance. The first thing to note is that the full title of this piece is On the Nature of the Heraclitean Fire and of the comfort of the Resurrection, which provides some clues. Heraclitus was an ancient Greek philosopher who maintained that everything in the world was in a state of permanent flux. For him, fire is the origin of all matter, including the soul, as it is a symbol of perpetual change.

The second thing to note is that Hopkins had very interesting aesthetic theories, and for our purposes, we just need to know that he believed very strongly that we can perceive something with great intensity; in other words, Hopkins has a basic trust that our senses can work really well in telling us what we need to know about our surroundings. And so he often tries his hardest to paint very vivid word-pictures, to the extent of coining new words. A favourite technique of his was to create compound words to try to get his point across. You also frequently find ungrammatical structures in this poem, such is the intensity of his communication.

Therefore in this poem, he starts out by constructing a picture of nature at its wildest, reflecting the Heraclitean flux. You'd notice the barrage of words thrown at you as you read it, which only adds to the effect. This celebration of nature, however, is tempered by man's place in the scheme of things. Hopkins is aware of man's frailty and mortality in the "Million-fueled Nature's bonfire". "His mark on mind, is gone!"

But abruptly, something joyously breaks in: "Enough! The Resurrection!" The wild energy displayed in the first half of the poem is now more controlled, reflecting that Nature is not its own Master, after all, but under the thumb of God. Notice the deliberate repetition in the final words - this shows the firm hand of a Creator, not the random chance of evolution. (Hopkins was writing in the age of Darwin, after all). And it is God that also enables the hope of the putting "Away grief’s gasping, joyless days, dejection". The Heraclitean conception of a "world’s wildfire, leave but ash" is at odds with the Christian belief of resurrection. We can be "immortal diamonds", sharing the same incarnate body as Christ.

Not that he didn't know how difficult life could be in the present. His notes in 1889 read: "There is a happiness, hope, the anticipation of happiness thereafter: it is better than happiness, but it is not happiness now."

But don't you just love knowing of the inbreaking of God into the world through Jesus, who dies in our place and defeats death, and that if we place our trust in him, we share in his resurrection life? "Enough, the Resurrection!"


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Holy Saturday

Untitled (Feel free to suggest one!)

The moon peers back not through the fog
Wakefulness is not granted,
the dream lingers on
like the aftertaste of a bitter lager
But the candle is lit
The table is set
And the feast is laid
Lamb, bread and wine
Flesh and blood intertwined
His life for mine
One for the many.

Hands passing along the cutlery
the breaking of bread
Eyes inwards, upwards and sidelong
As cups are raised to lips
Murmured thanksgivings.
Whispered encouragement.
Throaty laughter.
Songs bursting from bosoms.
The excited patter of tiny feet
As child gambols about with child.

Lift up your hearts!
It is the time between the dying and the rising.
Morning is not far off
The Son comes again
arrayed in glory.
Remember. Eat. Drink. Live.

© BK.

Films of the year

First, the pseudo-advert and the biggest 'awwww' of the year...


Next, the trailer...


And on to the main feature!

I haven’t watched that many films this year, partly because London cinemas are more expensive (although the one near my bro’s place is certainly value-for-money: fairly cheap for a very pleasant environment, and even better, not overly crowded!), but also because my two movie kakis are no longer in this country. :( As with the books, I’ll simply list them as far as I can remember. Some are technically older releases which I caught on DVD.

Babel was nominated for an Oscar earlier this year and I really enjoyed it. It intertwines three narratives set in the Americas, Africa and Japan respectively, exploring the consequences of our actions, cultural prejudice and the importance of family. I know quite a few think it overwrought though. Hot Fuzz is my favourite comedy of the year, certainly one of my overall favourites of 2007. Simon Pegg and Edgar Wright team together again in this hilarious story of a cop whose record is so good that he gets assigned to a sleepy English village so that the others don’t look so bad. I also absolutely loved Sunshine, the sci-fi flick from Danny Boyle about the dying sun, even if recent revelations (to me) regarding Alex Garland’s screenplay put a new spin on my interpretation of the movie. The Curse of the Golden Flower wasn’t bad, although the kaleidoscope of colours and the intricate politics of the imperial Chinese court is a potent combination guaranteed to make your head spin. The Lives of Others can lay claim to being the best film of the year, as it follows the cat-and-mouse game between an East German secret agent and the dissenters of the Communist regime, culminating in powerful sacrifices having to be made on both sides. The Painted Veil is an adaptation of a Somerset Maugham book, regarding the healing of a fractured marriage of a young English couple set (mostly) in 1920s China. It’s great to see a positive portrayal of marriage on the big screen.

Amazing Grace is a good biopic of William Wilberforce, considering that I thought it could easily have been very dull. Spiderman 3’s pacing may have been a little off, but is still a great summer movie. I’ve written a sort of reflection-cum-review elsewhere on this blog...Transformers is exactly what you’d expect, mindless entertainment. Story? What story? It’s all about the robots baby. Little Miss Sunshine was the quirky indie hit of 2006, a story that ostensibly is about the hilarious attempt to get the youngest daughter, Olivia, of a rather dysfunctional family to a beauty pageant on time but is really about family sticking together, no matter how messed up we are. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix is huge fun, although knowing the book definitely helps. The Simpsons Movie feels just like an extended TV special, which is fine as long as you’re a Simpsons fan. Gags aplenty. I admit it, I watched High School Musical! Another well-written romantic comedy was the Korean film Two Hundred Pounds Beauty. It’s both intelligent and funny! I also caught the London International Animation Festival this year, which featured a collection of animation shorts. I remember enjoying Recto Verso in particular.

Little Children is one of the best “dysfunction bubbling underneath perfect suburban life” films I’ve seen. My in-depth review is here. Darren Aranofsky is acknowledged as one of the more talented directors working in America today, but The Fountain is just terrible. It’s overly melodramatic and contrived. Thankfully, the movie I watched after that was the magnificent Ratatouille, which continues Pixar’s winning streak. I say it has a longshot for an Oscar Best Pic nomination. This is one not to be missed. Once is a sweet slice-of-life tale of a friendship between a budding street musician and a Czech immigrant, backed by an excellent soundtrack. Fracture is a courtroom thriller with an overly cocky Ryan Gosling battling Anthony Hopkin’s cunning. The performances of both lift the movie out of B-grade territory.
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That’s it, I think. I feel like I missed out on quite a lot. Having not watched the second instalments of either Pirates of the Carribean or the Bourne franchise, I naturally didn't watch Part 3. I did watch both Shreks but decided the underwhelming reviews meant that it was time to put Shrek 3 to bed. Some of the films I’ve heard raved about include the Romanian film 4 Months, 3 Weeks & Two Days, No Country for Old Men (not yet released in the UK), The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, the harrowing documentary Darfur Now, Michael Clayton, Knocked Up (well, my brother thought it was intelligently written and the reviews seem to agree), Rescue Dawn, Zodiac and This is England.

Ghibli also had a film out this year by Hayao Miyazaki’s son, Tales of Earthsea, but that has gotten a mixed reception. The Golden Compass has gotten more bad reviews than good, and I don’t mean from Christian outlets with agendas! American Gangster is apparently solid but nothing more. Ditto for Atonement. Lion for Lambs too talky and more suited for the theatre than the cinema, concludes the vast majority of reviewers. The Devil Came on Horseback is another much-needed Darfur documentary. The Assassination of Jesse James is meant to be pretty good and solidifies the comeback of the Western, although it’s also very long.

Some of the films I’m looking forward to watching include indie favourite (and also favourably reviewed) Juno, Lars and the Real Girl and Enchanted, which, although it supposedly suffers from a lacklustre ending, is meant to be Disney gently poking fun at itself.

Roll the credits...

Paste Magazine’s best films of 2007
Top rated films according to Rotten Tomatoes
Awards Daily best films of 2007
Roger Ebert, when he finally gets round to choosing it
Christianity Today Movies Top Films, not yet out

What were your top/favourite films of the year?


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Philip Pullman

I haven't really put on my thinking cap or pulled out my writing pen (or in this case, keyboard) this week, as I don't really have anything of note to say. This is in spite of having actually read some good material both online and offline, plus longer-term stuff that I've always wanted to post about. I've been feeling a little tired, mentally, and the onslaught of the cold means that I much prefer to huddle under layers of blankets.

Not having posted anything book-related for a while, thought I'll do so today.

Not surprisingly, with The Golden Compass slated for release on the 5th of December, there's been more chatter about Philip Pullman and his Dark Matters trilogy. The eagle-eyed among you might have noticed that Northern Lights has been stuck to my Currently Reading board for quite a while now. Having picked it up a couple of months ago, I got distracted by other books and haven't returned to it just yet. Still, I only have a quarter left to go, so will finish it soon!

For those of you not clued in, this is the fantasy series, apart from Harry Potter, of the last decade or so. His Dark Materials comprises of Northern Lights (American title: The Golden Compass), The Subtle Knife and The Amber Spyglass. It's quite a dense trilogy, which means that the plot isn't easy to summarise. Basically, the story revolves around Lyra, a plucky preteen, who discovers that she is the central figure in a complex conspiracy between two sides vying for power. As we read on, and bear in mind that I haven't read that much yet, we can see that the story begins to take on added meanings and that we're actually reading about a war between God, or perhaps more accurately, the Church, and Satan.

Pullman draws on ideas from quite a diverse range of fields. Physics, for one - the trilogy takes place in a multiverse (as I know zilch about physics, you have to look elsewhere if you're looking for more on multiverses!), and there's stuff about dark matter as well. Philosophy, for another - Pullman is sympathetic to gnostic strains of thought. Not having read the whole trilogy yet, I can't confirm this, but I suspect that Pullman probably is a Romantic. (That means he sees emotion and sublimity as the epitome of the human experience, not that he's the second coming of Colin Firth!) His literary influences are pretty obvious; I'm sure more than one of you would probably have guessed that John Milton's Paradise Lost is an obvious literary forbearer, and Pullman is obviously interested in expanding on William Blake's famous statement that "Milton was of the devil's party without knowing it". (This is a reference to the fact that many people who read Paradise Lost couldn't help but feel that Satan was portrayed as the hero, although there is much debate over whether this was Milton's intention or not. Not that authorial intentions matter much nowadays in the scholarly guild anyway.)

Pullman is an atheist, and has gone on record attacking C.S Lewis' Narnia, although opinion as to whether His Dark Materials is explicitly anti-Narnia differ. He is also acknowledged as a very gifted and imaginative reader. All three individual books have won awards, and Northern Lights snared the Carnegie of Carnegies. Now to tell you the truth, I've been pretty underwhelmed so far by his writing, but now that I've become a little more familiar with where he's coming from, I've grown more appreciative. And hey, in my final year at university, someone in my faculty was offering a lecture series on "Philip Pullman and John Milton", so obviously they must think he has some merit!

Pullman, as far as I can tell, pulls no punches. A lot of his disconcerting stuff (to Christians) are found in the second and third books, so I haven't gotten to them yet. But from what I've heard, God is portrayed as feeble and weak, the Christian heaven a horrible place, and the church invariably an instrument of oppression. So as you can imagine, many Christian groups are up in arms over the release of this movie and calling for a boycott. One prominent exception, though, has been Rowan Williams, the Archbishop of Canterbury, who argues that the books aren't anti-Christian so much as it is anti-dogmatic.

I have yet to make up my mind, but I do think that a boycott is simply counter-productive. I always think that far too many Christians take a reactionary approach. Do we really think that Pullman, Dawkins et al. are going to cause the downfall of Christianity? I don't think so. That doesn't mean that I don't think the books have the capacity to be dangerous or subversive. But really, that isn't anything new. Long before Pullman, there was Jan Mark's Divide and Rule and Pete Hautman's Godless, and to a lesser extent Lois Lowry's The Giver, all young adult fiction which also highlighted the darker side of organised religion. It shouldn't be surprising that so many coming-of-age tales feature religion prominently, since religion would surely come into the equation whenever people start exploring the big questions of life. Far better to engage with the books themselves, to show where (I suspect) Pullman's ideology actually weakens his storytelling, and to paint a far more compelling narrative of the Christian story, which is of course one of true freedom rather than oppression.

Whew! I was actually planning simply planning to write little vignettes of some of the books I've been reading, but I see that this post has developed into one about Philip Pullman. So I'll just leave it there. When I eventually finish the trilogy I might tell you what I think. But for those of you looking for more detail, here's a good if long podcast interview with Alan Jacobs, professor of English at Wheaton College and author of one of my favourite Harry Potter essays. He essentially sees a Manichean duality at the heart of Pullman's thought. There are spoilers in the interview though! Jacobs has also written a critique of the trilogy in the Weekly Standard (referenced in the podcast interview), which is unfortunately no longer online. However, there are some extracts from that piece here.

Also, here's a short reading list:

• Dark Matter: A Thinking Fan's Guide to Philip Pullman by Tony Watkins. This is the book I'm planning to read once I've finished the trilogy. Watkins, a Christian, explores the scientific and literary background to Pullman, interviews Pullman himself, offers a generous appreciation of his writing before going on to offer a critique of Pullman's distorted version of Christianity. I've heard lots of praise for this one so am looking forward to dipping into it.
  
• The Devil's Account: Philip Pullman and Christianity by Hugh Rayment-Pickard. Rayment-Pickard, whom I think is a Catholic, offers a succint critique of the morality underlying Pullman's work, showing that it doesn't hold the high ground.
  
• Shedding Light on His Dark Materials: Exploring Hidden Spiritual Themes in Philip Pullman by Kurt Bruner and Jim Ware. I saw this book profiled recently, and as far as I can tell, the authors argue that Pullman's story actually undermines his own worldview by showing how Christianity is the only plausible framework which his world can operate. Or something like that. That's an interesting thesis, though I'm not sure if it's persuasive.
  

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Wordsmiths: The Fortress of Solitude

Today's wordsmith is slightly unusual in that he is the first prose writer that I've featured. Jonathan Lethem is a Brooklyn writer and prolific essayist. His novels tend to defy categories, with "magical realism" perhaps coming closest, and they usually deal with off-the-beat characters, settings and situations. He is keen to explore subjectivity and the interior life. His 1999 novel Motherless Brooklyn won a slew of awards.

I'm going to confess that the book from which this excerpt is taken, The Fortress of Solitude, belongs to my started-but-never-finished pile. The novel centers on a coming-of-age tale of two friends, through the lens of racial tensions and pop music in 1970s Brooklyn. Oh, and the main character can fly. Really. (As you can see, Lethem doesn't see fit to meet our preconceptions!) Lethem is a novelist who writes like a poet. His first page, reprinted below, riveted me from the word go, as he paints a canvas of a Brooklyn street one humid summer evening to provide the reader a glimpse of a society on the cusp of change. Old and new, side by side.

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Like a match struck in a darkened room:
    Two white girls in flannel nightgowns and red vinyl roller skates with white laces, tracing tentative circles on a cracked blue slate sidewalk at seven o'clock on an evening in July.
    The girls murmured rhymes, were murmured rhymes, their gauzy, sky-pink hair streaming like it had once never been cut. The girls' parents had permitted them back onto the street after dinner, only first changing into the gowns and brushing their teeth before bed, to bask in the orange-pink summer dusk, the air and light which hung over the street, over all of Gowanus like the palm of a hand or the inner surface of a seashell. The Puerto Rican men seated on milk crates in front of the bodega on the corner granted at the apparition, not sure of what they were seeing. They widened their lips to show one another their teeth, a display to mark patience, wordless enduring. The street strewn with bottle caps half-pushed into the softened tar, Yoo-Hoo, Rheingold, Manhattan Special.
    The girls, Thea and Ana Solver, shone like new-struck flames.
    An old white woman had arrived on the block before the Solvers, to reclaim one of the abused buildings, one which had been a rooming house, replacing fifteen men with only herself and her crated belongings. She was actually the first. But Isabel Vendle only lurked like a rumor, like an apostrophe inside her brownstone, where at this moment she crept with a cane...Isabel Vendle was a knuckle, her body curled around the gristle of old injuries...
    The girls on wheels were the new thing, spoilt to start the show: white people were returning to Dean Street. A few.

If you're tempted, be forewarned, Lethem is no easy read! I didn't have the patience to get through it, and admittedly 1970s New York is a bit remote to me. (Oh, and leave a comment if you can guess what the title is a reference to. It's not difficult!)

I know I'm late but...

wow wow wow. I think I'm truly an unabashed Brad Bird fanboy now. Ratatouille finally opened in the UK yesterday and I went to see it tonight with my bro and sis-in-law. Great story, great animation, great heart, great everything. I have nothing to add to the heaping amount of praise it's already garnered. The LA Times piece is well-written and Jeffrey Overstreet's review is thoughtful as always.

A long shot for an Oscar Best Pic nomination (Beauty and the Beast is the only animated film in history to have been nominated)?

*****

Now, where can I get my hands on a copy of The Iron Giant?

Wordsmiths: Instruments (2)

This edition is dedicated to the recently departed Madeleine L’Engle. Many – including me! – did not know that her craft was not limited to prose but poetry too. This evocative piece is from Lines Scribbled from an Envelope and Other Poems.


Instruments (2)

Hold me against the dark: I am afraid.
Circle me with your arms. I am made
So tiny and my atoms so unstable
That at any moment I may explode. I am unable
To contain myself in unity. My outlines shiver
With the shock of living. I endeavor
To hold the I as one only for the cloud
Of which I am a fragment, yet to which I'm vowed
To be responsible. Its light against my face
Reveals the witness of the stars, each in its place
Singing, each compassed by the rest,
The many joined to one, the mightiest to the least.
It is so great a thing to be an infinitesimal part
of this immeasurable orchestra the music bursts the heart,
And from this tiny plosion all the fragments join:
Joy orders the disunity until the song is one.

Review: Little Children

It's not neccessary, but it helps to have watched the film.

Gaping cracks in the midst of perfect suburbia has become one of the most popular themes in both film and literature over the last decade. The title of a recent film, Disturbia, captures this sentiment perfectly. These are the fault lines that emerge when the cultivated appearance of the perfect middle-class life: perfect homes, perfect children, perfect jobs, perfect cars – meet the reality of imperfect human beings, like the rough spots and warts which break out all over smooth porcelain skin . When the stress of these two opposing tectonic plates dragging past each other is too great, the rocks rupture like a coiled spring.

This dark vision of suburbia has become rather clichéd, but Little Children can take pride of place for being one of the best films yet to explore this profoundly modern disaffection. Sarah (Kate Winslet), an English Lit masters graduate in a former life, is now a fulltime stay-at-home mum who feels trapped in a lonely marriage. Her husband (Gregg Edelman) is completely absorbed in his job, and who himself finds fulfilment in looking at porn. Brad (Patrick Wilson) is a househusband, who, having failed his bar exams, feels shame and aimless, while his more successful Type-A personality wife Kathy (Jennifer Connelly) ends up as the pants-wearer in the house. Each morning, Sarah takes her child, Lucy to the park, patiently enduring the catty gossip of the three other mothers that regularly meet there. She ends up meeting Brad (the object of fantasy of the women), and in one impulsive moment, having been challenged to obtain his phone number, goes further than she needs to and end up sharing a kiss. The seeds for the ensuing adulterous affair are planted.

There is another subplot which revolves around a friend of Brad, Larry (Noah Emmerich), a retired cop who’s made a few mistakes of his own. He has chosen to adopt a vigilante role against a recently released paedophile, Ronnie (Jackie Earle Haley), who now lives with his mother (Phyllis Sommerville). In fact, the whole neighbourhood is wary of Ronnie, captured perfectly in one scene where mass hysteria ensues (not entirely without justification) as soon as he enters the community swimming pool teeming with children.

Kate Winslet is truly a top-class actress; I don’t think I’ve ever seen her give a bad performance. What marks her out is her ability to completely disappear into her character. Throughout the whole film, whenever I watched Sarah on screen, that was all I saw, I never once thought to myself: “That’s Kate Winslet doing [insert action here]”. This is in contrast to, for example, Keira Knightley (who is a talented actress in her own right). Whenever I watch the latter, I think, yep, that’s Keira on screen, not, for example, Elizabeth Bennet. The whole cast is excellent, though I think Haley as Ronnie also deserves particular mention. I also wished Connelly had more screen time as I wanted to get to know her character better, but I suspect they didn’t want to make the film excessively long.

This is a courageous film that neither flinches from seeing the ugliness of sin nor descending into a morass of “we can do whatever we want” morality. Although the story is told primarily from the perspectives of the two main leads, Sarah and Brad, and sympathetically enough that there are occasions when you want to root for them, the director Todd Field has resorted to an old-fashioned device, the voiceover of an omniscient narrator, to lend us some much needed distance. Thus, lest we be completely taken by them, we are instead asked to question whether their motivations, their justifications, their actions, are always right. Pragmatically, it provides insight into the interiority of the characters, and also keeps the narrative woven tightly enough. Scenes move along quickly when they have to. That the film is just over 2 hours long and yet never flags is a testament to its perfectly judged pacing.

The film demonstrates how we are all captives to our desires, what the Bible will call our sinfulness. This is captured early on by Sarah’s husband when he sees no reasons not to give in to his wanton wants. For Sarah, her persistent refusal to cast herself in any role other than victim means that for a long time, she is unable to come to terms with her own brokenness. In one scene where she ends up discussing Madame Bovary, whose heroine is involved in affair after affair where she ends up tragically used by various men, her own perspective has become warped enough that she now identifies with the heroine where once she was repelled by her. Similarly, Brad does not want to take responsibility for his failures in work or to work at his marriage, which, at this stage, is nowhere near the terminal stage. Larry, more obviously, needs to atone for his past mistakes, and does so by choosing to obsess over Ronnie’s sin. In doing so, he appears to project his own mistakes onto Ronnie.

But before we rush to judge, the film at every turn reminds that we are all hypocrites, ready to condemn the easy target without looking at our own hearts. All the characters here have secrets. Look not just at Sarah, but watch the gossipy mothers too. The gap between fantasy and reality becomes all too apparent. Sarah accepts this trade-off for a while, but eventually the charade becomes too painful, and she has to make a choice one way or the other.

We are also asked to recognise that the big questions of life are big for a reason. What is the meaning of life, of my life? Where does true satisfaction lie? How do we deal with the obstacles that life brings? How we answer these questions make a huge difference to the way we live and our understanding of the story we live in. Another interesting question implicitly asked by the film is that of gender roles. Where do men and women fit in today’s world without shortchanging one or the other? It’s certainly something I need to think through more, especially as a tentative complementarian.

One person who comes out of this well is Ronnie’s mother. She showers nothing but unconditional love on her son, wanting the very best for him, willing to overlook his past transgressions. Here, I think, there is a misstep, because she does so almost too lightly, saying to Ronnie: “You’ve done a bad thing, but I know you’re not a bad person.” This, admittedly, is the perspective of 99% of the movies out there. Also, the way the narrative subsequently plays out also allows this to be assumption to be questioned. Ronnie, encouraged to go on a blind date, reverts to type. But it is her love that ultimately drives Ronnie to change – in fact, I think in light of Ronnie’s actions at the end of the film, the word repent will not be out of place at all. It is Ronnie’s recognition that he is, in fact, a truly bad person that sets the ball rolling in the right direction. Also, Ronnie’s mother plays out in stark contrast to the rest of the mothers in the film, who all either excessively idolise the role of the parent (as the many mothers do), or fail to acknowledge the value of this role, as Sarah and by implication Kathy, do. Moreover, all of them seem to see their children as mere accessories. (This is perhaps unfair to both Sarah and Brad, who, however imperfectly, do love their children dearly.)

Watching the final 15 minutes of the film, I was wondering if it was all going to end in tragedy. It certainly seemed that way, and uncomfortable as that was, it was all too feasible. But at the last moment, the director pulls back, and allows hope to seep back into the picture. People recognise the destructive consequences of their actions. And I’m glad for that. No, it’s nowhere near happily ever after. But it hints at the possibilities of the existence of a U-Turn, while never losing sight of the many challenges that lie ahead, and the responsibilities that each character in turn has to shoulder.

Is there anything wrong with the film? There is some nudity involved, and it probably did not need to be as graphic as it was. From a storyline viewpoint, I felt like I didn’t get to know the spouses well enough, but I understand that it might have made the film too bloated. Sarah's relationship with her husband never quite feels tangible, and I don't really know what her best friend, Joan, was there for.

Little Children could refer to a few things. It obviously refers to the many children who populate this film, the ones whom everyone is striving to shelter from the big bad world out there. It also refers to the adults, who often behave exactly like little children: spoilt and self-centered. But there is another possibility. To be like a little child is to learn to be dependent, to recognise our profound need for help. To be like a little child is also to enjoy the love a parent would shower on us. There is no mention of Jesus or God or anything remotely "religious" in the film, yet this is a tale congruent with Christian presuppositions. And maybe Jesus is there after all. Here is the tagline of the film: 'Let the little children come unto me'.

****1/2

Endnote:
With many thanks to Tony Watkins for helping to focus my reflections. [Link is a little spoilerish, but it’s the type of film where knowing the spoilers don’t matter.]


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Spiderman 3 and the moral imagination

This post is interspersed with spoilers throughout. If you want to watch Spiderman 3 and have not done so, it's best to read this only after you've seen it.

"We want to see with other eyes, to imagine with other imaginations, to feel with other hearts, as well as with our own. We demand windows." [1] We demand stories. It’s how we make sense of the world. Narratives grip us, for good or bad: witness the heartbreaking drama of Madeleine McCann’s kidnapping currently unfolding in the British press[2]. Negatively, it’s why gossip holds so much appeal. The windows are shut, we want them pried open. It’s Gnosticism all over again – “secret knowledge” only known to the elite.

But surely the realm of the imagination has no bearing on reality? They’re fun, they’re entertaining, great for a Saturday night out. But the world of the fictive isn’t so easily separated from what we call the “real world”. They reflect something we already know – we already have an image of New York in our minds, regardless of whether it’s accurate or not, or whether we’ve actually been to the Big Apple – before going to watch Spiderman 3. Even fantastic creations – talking animals and extraterrestrials, have something fundamentally human about them that help make them identifiable in some way to us. But they can shape us too. Fables, fairy tales, morality plays all recognise this. In Ian McEwan’s Atonement, Briony witnesses something which she can’t make heads or tails of, and, not being in possession of all sides of the story, allows her imagination to see things that aren’t quite there which ends up having real consequences. [3] "In works of fiction, we explore the possibilities of understanding and living in this world." [4]

Imagination is often thought of as that belonging to the special few – the artist, the inventor, the musician. But we all have imagination, it simply is that faculty which helps us explain life as it is and it ought to be. It’s part of being human, and it also is not exempt from the Lordship of Jesus Christ. So although it is not very fashionable these days, it is right to talk about the "moral imagination" [5]. The moral imagination speaks of virtue and wisdom, and seeks to mould us to moral living [6]. It is not sheer didacticism, since we know both from experience and the Bible that this will backfire. We chafe under the Law. Rather, it is about providing a compelling vision of goodness. It is that which fires our imaginations. It celebrates what is good in this world, weeps over what is bad, is hopeful of what will be, all in a manner that captures our hearts. As Christians, we believe that Christianity is the best way to explain the world, and so the moral imagination will always, in some ways, conform to the Christian story, although perhaps not in ways we might expect. In other words, it doesn’t specifically have to be “religious”! Conversely, this is why great art with an amoral imagination working behind it is also more dangerous: its power lies in persuading you that evil is the more glamorous sister, or that despair is the pit we’re all destined for.

And so, (finally!), I get to Spiderman 3. I think the point is rather obvious by now – Spiderman 3 has its flaws, but I find the strength of its moral vision powerful enough to render its weaknesses forgivable. It has too many villains, for one thing, meaning that both Sandman and Venom/Eddie Brock could have benefited from more character development and/or backstory. This interferes with the pacing of the movie as well; when we get to the climatic scene, there’s an “Huh? We’re here already?” feel to it. Indeed, that scene itself suffers from some cheese, including the cringe-worthy reporter (how did she get in there?) to the overly enthusiastic crowds which just feel out of place.

Yet it seems to me that although he just didn’t have enough time to fully explore it in the movie, Sam Raimi had a clear grasp, thematically, on what Spiderman 3 is about. From both the comic books and the start of this trilogy, we understand that Spiderman is all about recognising that "with great power comes great responsibility". And so the themes of selflessness as opposed to selfishness has always figured prominently. Peter fails the test. Spiderman becomes a celebrity persona to be cultivated rather than a servant of the community. He fails to "put his wife before himself".

The motif is clear: his internal degeneration is mirrored outwardly by the back symbiote that has attached himself to his costume. It is only gotten rid of when Peter chooses to turn away from that path. There have been hints: Peter apologises to his landlord over his earlier overreaction. He understands that he may have superpowers to help others, but he too needs help (as MJ reminds him, and in returning the ring). My brother tells me that the church scene comes straight from the comics, so while Raimi and Stan Lee are not Christians as far as I know, they do understand the Christian concept of grace and its tie to repentance. Interestingly, Eddie Brock is the doppelganger [7]: he’s also a photographer for the Daily Bugle, he has a girlfriend (Gwen Stacy is Peter Parker’s first girlfriend in the comics). Like Peter, he is motivated by revenge, whereas Peter raged against his uncle’s killer. But he allows it to become all-consuming, which, as we see from the climax of the film, ultimately destroys him [8].

Related to the above, Spiderman 3 also explores what it means to desire and what happens when desires that are not wrong per se govern our hearts and become an idol. Peter’s right desire for justice becomes distorted when he thinks that he is the rightful enforcer of that justice. By contrast, Aunt May also desires justice, exemplified by her tearful reaction to the news that Uncle’s Ben killer is at large, but she refuses to cave in to what she has no right to do: wish death on another person. The Sandman rightfully desires a cure for his daughter, but allows it to rule his heart such that he resorts to any means by which he can get it. Mary Jane rightfully desires good companionship – that Peter might become a better person and partner – but wrongfully worships such companionship until she fails to be faithful and kisses Harry. (She immediately recognises this as wrong. Peter too errs in wooing and using Gwen; again, his legitimate desire nevertheless leading to wrong actions). Spiderman 3 thus questions: how do we react to circumstances around us?

But actions have consequences. Peter has to recognise that he is implicated in the creation of Venom. Mary-Jane reacts to savage reviews of her performance by withdrawing into herself, and her initial refusal to be vulnerable closes the door on hope (Harry exploits this later in pretending to be the "other man".) Eddie Brock is caught by his deception. But Aunt May’s gentle response turns away Peter’s wrath and helps him see what a fool he really is.

Indeed, this then links to a minor theme, that of masking and unmasking, or to put it another way: a question of identity. Peter: is he the guy in the red or the black costume? His landlord and Aunt May both claim he’s good. Will he be that person? MJ: will she allow criticism to define who she really is? Harry: Peter’s best friend or worst enemy? (The butler really should have told him sooner though. =) Isn’t it interesting that in the climatic scene, both Peter and Harry, the “good” guys, fight unmasked. They've discovered what it means to be human. Venom and the Sandman, on the other hand, have become sub-human. [9]

No one will claim Spiderman 3 is a Christian allegory, or that Spiderman, or even Harry is a Christ-like figure. There’s no need to. Instead, Spiderman 3 simply pays close attention to moral virtues of forgiveness and grace, of understanding our shared humanity, and then majoring on them. It’s "telling the truth / but telling it slant" [10]. It simply helps invite people to have a closer look at the world once again. Then perhaps as Christians, we might be able to ask them to consider it in light of the truth of the gospel.

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[1] C.S Lewis, An Experiment in Criticism

[2] See this for some details. The Observer has some poignant observations. We instinctively look for some sort of coherence in a messy world, but Christians recognise that ultimately, they don’t happen to be the Author. The McCanns, devout Catholics, headed straight for the chapel. They understand this.

[3] The point of not knowing everything tells us a little of why gossip is so damaging: it's applying deviation from the truth. I should hasten to add that I haven’t finished reading Atonement yet!

[4] Clarence Walhoult, cited in Literature Through the Eyes of Faith by Roger Lundin & Susan Gallagher.

[5] The term might have originated with Edmund Burke, who was a political philosopher in the Conservative Tradition. Just in case it has a specialised meaning within political terminology, I am here using "moral imagination" in a much more general sense.

[6] As opposed to moralism! I don’t claim here that the moral imagination is a substitute for the Holy Spirit, who is the only One who can make us more Christ-like. Nevertheless, it helps in the education of our character by pointing to truth.

[7] A doppelganger literally means “double”, a technique where another character is used to mirror the main character. I think strictly speaking, it’s meant to be the same character, eg. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde! I don’t push it that far in Spiderman.

[8] Vengeance is a big theme to consider on its own, since it is also a huge part of Harry Osborn’s story. Consider too Peter's use of Gwen in getting back at MJ.

[9] Keeping in mind doctrine of original sin of course! Then again, Spiderman 3 ain't systematic theology. One final theme which I haven’t thought much about is the father-child theme. But it might be worthwhile thinking about Peter and Uncle Ben’s relationship. Harry and his dad. Marko Flint and his daughter. And even MJ and her critical dad.

[10] Emily Dickinson.

Cross-posted at the Agora


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Give: A primer

Isn't it annoying how something often loses its lustre when it's turned into a formal object of study and vice versa? This fundamental law of life struck again when I decided to reread the Armitage poem posted below. As I began to read it properly, I began to get more and more excited because I began to see how this simple poem actually employed very sophisticated means to get its message across. So naturally, I just had to share. :)

In doing so, I hope to achieve some larger aims: to get people to appreciate the richness of language, to show that literature doesn't necessarily have to be intimidating, and to simply celebrate the creative gifts bestowed to us by God. And of course, because it's fun! I'll try my best to explain it in as simple terms as I can.

Give

Of all the public places, dear
to make a scene, I've chosen here.

Of all the doorways in the world
to choose to sleep, I’ve chosen yours.
I'm on the street, under the stars.

For coppers I can dance or sing.
For silver-swallow swords, eat fire.
For gold-escape from locks and chains.

It's not as if I'm holding out
for frankincense or myrrh, just change.

You give me tea. That's big of you.
I'm on my knees. I beg of you.

The first thing to remember about poetry is that, unlike prose, it's all about how it sounds. This makes writing poetry more technical, although you'll never notice it in the hands of a skilled poet. There are 2 important elements here. Most people will know about the first element: rhyme, but what most people don't realise is that poetry is also all about rhythm. Have a look again at the Armitage poem. It has 8 syllables in each line, and if you read it out loud, you'll find that naturally, every other syllable is stressed. What you'll get is a "ta-TUM-ta-TUM-ta-TUM-ta-TUM". Technically, this is known as the iambic tetrameter. So why all this technical discussion, you ask? Read the poem out loud again. Notice how conversational it sounds - short sharp sentences - in fact, you could say it sounds almost incantational. This is the result of the poet employing the iambic tetrameter.

Now that we've got that out of the way, let's get on to some really interesting stuff. Firstly, let's quickly figure out what the poem is about. A quick read will tell us that this is the voice of someone who's presumably homeless and trying to get some change off someone. If you're a Londoner I'm sure an image will pop in your head really quickly!

But Armitage has more tricks up his sleeve. If that was all there was to this poem we might very well nod our heads and make a mental note to perhaps give a little to the next beggar we see. The poet bites us deeper than that. Read the first two lines again. What impression does it give you? I remember when I first read them, the picture that formed in my head was that of a middle-class lady who was basically telling her husband that she was about to throw a tantrum over something or another - probably over something that she wanted but couldn't get. So imagine how suprised I was when upon reading the next few lines, I discover that the speaker is actually the homeless person mentioned above. What Armitage does here is essentially set up the reader's expectations and then subvert them. What he does is set the tone of the poem against its content, and immediately that unsettles us.

But wait. Let's go one level deeper. If not for the content, we could easily imagine that the tone being adopted here is rather middle-class. This is signalled by the rather clean, formal language, none of the coarseness we expect from someone from the streets. "You give me tea. That's big of you." What Armitage is doing here, I believe, is not just confounding the reader's expectations, but also showing just how marginalised this homeless person is. He is denied even his own authentic voice! Instead, he has to rely on a retelling of his story through the voice of others. Indeed, he has become a mere commodity in this retelling: "For coppers I can dance or sing./For silver-swallow swords, eat fire./For gold - escape from locks and chains." Slot the coin, get some entertainment. The person becomes dehumanized.

Notice too how the poem progresses. In the first couple of stanzas there's a lot of emphasis on the "I", and also on choice - "chosen...choose...chosen" (and also the third stanza, which implies a choice of entertainment options depending on how much the person is willing to pay.) But this illusion of choice is shattered in the last 2 stanzas. The homeless person cannot actually dictate what is given to him. He might be hoping for loose change but "you give me tea. That's big of you". And so "I'm on my knees. I beg of you." He is at the mercy of the giver. I would also argue that since the last 2 lines are so close in sound as well, it's possible that in the last line, the true voice of the homeless person breaks out, if only momentarily, so that "that's big of you" is starkly juxtaposed with "I beg of you."

And suddenly the poem gains a whole new resonance, as we begin to see just how marginalized the speaker of the poem is, and the way the poem implicates us, the reader. (After all, it's likely to be middle-class people who would be reading poems!) The title of the poem "Give" now jumps out at us - it is no longer a description, but a prescription, or at the very least a challenge. The question now becomes, we have listened, now what are we going to do about it?

I'm sure I've missed out on a lot of other things, for eg. the explicit reference to "frankincense and myrrh" which can only be an allusion to Christianity here (possibly the idea of Christian charity? Or a reminder of Jesus' birth into humble surroundings?), and it's even more interesting that this poem appears in a collection called the "Dead Sea Poems". I don't know enough about Armitage, but often poems also like to allude to other poems, and Armitage might or might not have done so here.

So, have I succeeded with the aims of my post?


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