Through a Screen Darkly – Bonus Materials Blog

Through a Screen Darkly – Film Festivals for Discussion Groups (Organized by Theme)

Friday, November 28th, 2008

Note from Jeffrey Overstreet:

The following lists are recommended titles for groups to view and discuss.

They are not intended to represent comprehensive lists of films on their particular themes. Rather, they are films that I personally have found challenging and rewarding, and I have enjoyed discussions about them with other moviegoers.

I’ve compiled these lists with discerning adult viewers in mind. Some films contain elements that could be offensive to some viewers. I encourage you to read about the films ahead of time. Pay attention to what the film is rated, and why, and make sure that those in your discussion group do not go into the film unprepared.

Reviews of these films available at LookingCloser.org, or elsewhere, will help you determine which selections would be best for you and your viewing group. Proceed with caution, and a sense of adventure.

Each film in these lists may reveal multiple themes. They are listed under particular themes here only as suggested areas of focus. You may find other surprising connections and contrasts, and organize lists of your own.

These lists will be expanded and revised periodically at LookingCloser.org/Darkly.

RELATIONSHIPS

Theme: True Love, Marriage, and Infidelity
Films about the bond of marriage, and the temptation to be unfaithful.

For general discussion groups:
The Ice Storm, dir. Ang Lee
The Road Home, Zhang Yimou
Shall We Dance? (1996), dir. Masayuki Suo
Shadowlands, dir. Richard Attenborough
The New World, dir. Terrence Malick

For ambitious discussion groups:
Lantana, dir. Ray Lawrence
Claire’s Knee, dir. Eric Rohmer
In the Mood for Love, Wong Kar-Wai
Hannah and Her Sisters, dir. Woody Allen
Husbands and Wives, dir. Woody Allen
Far From Heaven, dir. Todd Haynes
Days of Heaven, dir. Terrence Malick
Three Colors: White, dir. Krzysztof Kieslowski
The Secret Lives of Dentists, dir. Alan Rudolph

And, just for the fun of it…
The Princess Bride, dir. Rob Reiner

Theme: Family Life
Films that explore the rewards, and the fragility, of family relationships, and the need for respect and love between parents and children.

For general discussion groups:
Pieces of April, dir. Peter Hedges
In America, dir. Jim Sheridan
The Royal Tenenbaums, dir. Wes Anderson
What’s Eating Gilbert Grape?, dir. Lasse Haalstrom
Dear Frankie, dir. Shona Auerbach

For ambitious discussion groups:
Junebug, dir. Phil Morrison
Tokyo Story, dir. Yasujiro Ozu
Yi-Yi (A One and a Two), dir. Edward Yang
Secrets and Lies, dir. Mike Leigh

And, just for fun…
The Incredibles, dir. Brad Bird

Theme: Faithful Fathers, Deadbeat Dads
Films that explore the role, responsibility, and influence of a father, and the complications that set in when a father is neglectful or absent.

For general discussion groups:
The Royal Tenenbaums, dir. Wes Anderson
A River Runs Through It, dir. Robert Redford
Don’t Come Knocking, dir. Wim Wenders
In America, dir. Jim Sheridan
Quiz Show, dir. Robert Redford
In the Name of the Father, dir. Jim Sheridan
My Father’s Glory, dir. Yves Robert
Nobody’s Fool, dir. Robert Benton

For ambitious discussion groups:
The Return, dir. Andrey Zvyagintsev
The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou, dir. Wes Anderson
Paris, Texas, dir. Wim Wenders

And, just for fun…
Finding Nemo, dir. Andrew Stanton

Theme: Motherhood

For general discussion groups:
Dear Frankie, dir. Shona Auerbach
Places in the Heart, dir. Robert Benton
The Joy Luck Club, dir. Wayne Wang
In Her Shoes, dir. Curtis Hanson

For ambitious discussion groups:
Nine Lives, dir. Rodrigo Garcia
Secrets and Lies, dir. Mike Leigh
Thirteen, dir. Catherine Hardwicke

Theme: Falling in Love/Breaking Up
Films that examine the rush of infatuation, falling in love, the qualities of a good relationship, and the hard work of staying together.

For general discussion groups:
A Room with a View, dir. James Ivory
The Road Home, Zhang Yimou
Sense and Sensibility, dir. Ang Lee
The New World, dir. Terrence Malick
Moulin Rouge!, dir. Baz Lurhmann
Chungking Express, dir. Wong Kar-Wai
When Harry Met Sally, dir. Rob Reiner
Autumn Tale, dir. Eric Rohmer

For ambitious discussion groups:
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, dir. Michel Gondry
Before Sunrise, dir. Richard Linklater
Before Sunset, dir. Richard Linklater
Punch-drunk Love, dir. Paul Thomas Anderson
All the Real Girls, dir. David Gordon Greene

Theme: Alienation and the Need for Intimacy
Films that consider the plight of lonely, alienated characters, or people who must overcome challenges in order to connect meaningfully with others.

For general discussion groups:
Edward Scissorhands, dir. Tim Burton
The Station Agent, dir. Thomas McCarthy
Italian for Beginners, dir. Lone Scherfig
Limbo, dir. Stephen Frears
The Remains of the Day, dir. James Ivory
Ghost World, dir. Terry Zwigoff
In the Mood for Love, dir. Wong Kar-Wai

For ambitious discussion groups:
Junebug, dir. Phil Morrison
Code Unknown, dir. Michael Haneke
Taxi Driver, dir. Martin Scorsese
Lost in Translation*, dir. Sophia Coppola
Distant, dir. Nuri Bilge Ceylan
Punch-drunk Love, dir. Paul Thomas Anderson
Last Life in the Universe, dir. Pen-Ek Ratanaruang
Magnolia*, dir. Paul Thomas Anderson

Theme: The Generation Gap
Films about the challenges of relating to other generations and their cultural values.

For general discussion groups:
Thirteen, dir. Catherine Hardwicke
Tokyo Story, dir. Yasujiro Ozu

For ambitious discussion groups:
Café Lumiere, dir. Hou Hsiao-hsien
The Ice Storm, dir. Ang Lee

Theme: A Contrast of Personalities
Films about extremely different individuals who form unlikely relationships and change each others’ lives.

For general discussion groups:
The Fisher King, dir. Terry Gilliam
The Best of Youth, dir. Marco Tullio Giordana
Harold and Maude, dir. Has Ashby
Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, dir. John Hughes

For ambitious discussion groups:
The Dreamlife of Angels*, dir. Erick Zonca
Down by Law*, dir. Jim Jarmusch
Man on the Train, dir. Patrice Leconte
Intimate Strangers, dir. Patrice Leconte
Distant, dir. Nuri Bilge Ceylan

GOOD AND EVIL

Theme: Redemption
Films about characters who seek to overcome hardship or despair, wrestle with lives of sin, take steps of faith toward deliverance.

For general discussion groups:
The Apostle, dir. Robert Duvall
The Fisher King, dir. Terry Gilliam
About a Boy, dir.
Tsotsi, dir. Gavin Hood

For ambitious discussion groups:
Ikiru, dir. Akira Kurosawa
Ordet, dir. Carl Theodor Dreyer
Three Colors: Red, Krzysztof Kieslowski
Stevie, dir. Steve James

And, just for fun…
Groundhog Day, dir. Harold Ramis
Bruce Almighty, dir. Tom Shadyac
O Brother, Where Art Thou?, dir. Joel and Ethan Coen

Theme: Horror and Human Depravity
Thought-provoking horror movies that cause us to reflect on our fears and our capacity for evil.

For general discussion groups:
Downfall, dir. Oliver Hirschbiegel
Schindler’s List, dir. Steven Spielberg
Alien, dir. Ridley Scott
Unforgiven, dir. Clint Eastwood
Mystic River, dir. Clint Eastwood

For ambitious discussion groups:
Safe, dir. Todd Haynes
The Addiction, dir. Abel Ferrara
Time of the Wolf, dir. Michael Haneke
Apocalypse Now, dir. Francis Ford Coppola
Dogville, dir. Lars Von Trier
Full Metal Jacket, dir. Stanley Kubrick
A Scanner Darkly, dir. Richard Linklater
Brother’s Keeper, dir. Joe Berlinger and Bruce Sinofsky
Being John Malkovich, dir. Spike Jonze

Theme: Perspectives on War
Films that examine the ethical dilemmas we face when we enter into war, and that remind us of the cost of war in both sides of a conflict.

For general discussion groups:
Grave of the Fireflies, dir. Isao Takahata
The Fog of War, dir. Errol Morris
Three Kings, dir. David O. Russell
Empire of the Sun, dir. Steven Spielberg
Dr. Strangelove, dir. Stanley Kubrick
Platoon, dir. Oliver Stone
Paths of Glory, dir. Stanley Kubrick

For ambitious discussion groups:
The Thin Red Line, dir. Terrence Malick
Saving Private Ryan, dir. Steven Spielberg
Ride with the Devil, dir. Ang Lee
The Pianist, dir. Roman Polanski
Full Metal Jacket, dir. Stanley Kubrick

LAW AND ORDER

Theme: Rules and Freedom
Films that explore the tension between restrictions and freedom, responsibility and recklessness, definition and mystery, order and chaos.

For general discussion groups:
Picnic at Hanging Rock, dir. Peter Weir
Dead Poets Society, dir. Peter Weir
Catch Me If You Can, dir. Steven Spielberg
The Shawshank Redemption, dir. Frank Darabont
Cool Hand Luke, dir. Stuart Rosenberg
Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World, dir. Peter Weir

For ambitious discussion groups:
Au Hasard Balthazar, dir. Robert Bresson
Apocalypse Now, dir. Francis Ford Coppola
The Ice Storm, dir. Ang Lee

Theme: Pressure
Films about characters who must consider what is right and wrong in the midst of the pressures of family, peers, or tradition.

For general discussion groups:
Fiddler on the Roof, dir. Norman Jewison
A Room with a View, dir. James Ivory
Whale Rider, dir. Niki Caro
The Last Days of Disco, dir. Whit Stillman
Metropolitan, dir. Whit Stillman
Mean Girls, dir. Mark Waters
Almost Famous, dir. Cameron Crowe
Lord of the Flies, dir. Peter Brook
Saved!, dir. Brian Dannelly

For ambitious discussion groups:
Junebug, dir. Phil Morrison
Mean Creek, dir. Jacob Aaron Estes
Thirteen, dir. Catherine Hardwicke

COMEDY

Theme: Comedy
Films that make us laugh for all kinds of reasons — some instructive, some satirical, some absurd.

For general discussion groups:
Raising Arizona, dir. Joel and Ethan Coen
Modern Times, dir. Charlie Chaplin
The General, dir. Clyde Bruckman and Buster Keaton
Groundhog Day, dir. Harold Ramis
Young Frankenstein, dir. Mel Brooks
Roxanne, dir. Fred Shepisi
O Brother, Where Art Thou?, dir. Joel and Ethan Coen
Rushmore, dir. Wes Anderson
Zelig, dir. Woody Allen
The Man Without a Past, dir. Aki Kaurismäki
Saved!, dir. Brian Dannelly
Monty Python and the Holy Grail, dir. Terry Jones and Terry Gilliam
Being There, dir. Hal Ashby
Intolerable Cruelty, dir. Joel and Ethan Coen
Fargo, dir. Joel and Ethan Coen

For ambitious discussion groups:
Dr. Strangelove, dir. Stanley Kubrick
Delicatessen, dir. Jean-Pierre Jeunet
One Flew Over the Cukoo’s Nest, dir. Milos Forman
Harold and Maude, dir. Hal Ashby

FREEDOM

Theme: Bondage and Freedom
Films about individuals looking for hope in the midst of oppression, imprisonment, or slavery.

For general discussion groups:
The Matrix, dir. Andy and Larry Wachowski
Rabbit-Proof Fence, dir. Philip Noyce
The Cradle Will Rock, dir. Tim Robbins
Good Night and Good Luck, dir. George Clooney
The Truman Show, dir. Peter Weir
Born into Brothels, dir. Zana Briski
Glory, dir. Edward Zwick
Amistad, dir. Steven Spielberg
The Prince of Egypt, dir. Jeffrey Katzenberg
Braveheart, dir. Mel Gibson
For ambitious discussion groups:
Brazil, dir. Terry Gilliam
The Flowers of Shanghai, dir. Hou Hsiao-hsien
Natural Born Killers, dir. Oliver Stone
Far from Heaven, dir. Todd Haynes
A Scanner Darkly, dir. Richard Linklater
The Circle, dir. Jafar Panahi
Blade Runner, dir. Ridley Scott
Fight Club, dir. David Fincher
Requiem for a Dream, dir. Darren Aronofsky

CONSCIENCE

Theme: Character and Conviction
Films about characters whose integrity is put to the test, and who try to do the right thing.

For general discussion groups:
Almost Famous, dir. Cameron Crowe
Chariots of Fire, dir. Hugh Hudson
To Kill a Mockingbird, dir. Robert Mulligan
The Insider, dir. Michael Mann
Do the Right Thing, dir. Spike Lee
Holes, dir. Andrew Davis
Sense and Sensibility, dir. Ang Lee
Persuasion, dir. Roger Michell
Mansfield Park, dir. Patricia Rozema
Nicholas Nickelby, dir. Douglas McGrath
The Little Princess, dir. Alfonzo Cuarón

For ambitious discussion groups:
Three Kings, dir. David O. Russell
Donnie Darko, dir. Richard Kelley
Dirty Pretty Things, dir. Stephen Frears

Theme: Guilt
Films about sin, shame, and responses to guilt.

For general discussion groups:
Blood Simple, Joel and Ethan Coen
Hamlet (1948), dir. Laurence Olivier; Hamlet (1990), dir. Franco Zeffirelli; William Shakespeare’s Hamlet (1996), dir. Kenneth Branagh; or Hamlet (2000), dir. Michael Almereyda
Nixon, dir. Oliver Stone
Insomnia, dir. Christopher Nolan

For ambitious discussion groups:
Wild Strawberries, dir. Ingmar Bergman
Crimes and Misdemeanors, dir. Woody Allen

Theme: Prejudice and Intolerance
Films in which varieties of prejudice put characters to the test.

For general discussion groups:
X-Men, dir. Bryan Singer
X-Men 2: X-Men United, dir. Bryan Singer
The Searchers, dir. John Ford
To Kill a Mockingbird, dir. Robert Mulligan
Malcolm X, dir. Spike Lee
Final Solution, dir. Cristobal Krusen
Rabbit-Proof Fence, dir. Philip Noyce
Snow Falling on Cedars, dir. Scott Hicks

For ambitious discussion groups:
Far from Heaven, dir. Todd Haynes
Crash, dir. Paul Haggis
Brokeback Mountain, dir. Ang Lee
The Human Stain, dir. Robert Benton

Theme: Forgiveness and Reconciliation
Films about division, hope, and healing.

For general discussion groups:
Pieces of April, dir. Peter Hedges
The Royal Tenenbaums, dir. Wes Anderson
The Straight Story, dir. David Lynch
Howard’s End, dir. James Ivory
Final Solution, Cristobal Krusen
Woman, Thou Art Loosed!, Michael Schultz

For ambitious discussion groups:
The Son, dir. Luc and Jean-Pierre Dardenne
Stevie, dir. Steve James

Theme: Conscience and Action 
Films about poverty and need, and those who rise to answer the call of compassion.

For general discussion groups:
Dead Man Walking, dir. Tim Robbins
The Widow of St. Pierre, dir. Patrice Leconte
Millions, dir. Danny Boyle
The Constant Gardener, dir. Fernando Meirelles
Born into Brothels, dir. Zana Briski
Hotel Rwanda, dir. Terry George
The Year of Living Dangerously, dir. Peter Weir

For ambitious discussion groups:
Stevie, dir. Steve James
Dirty Pretty Things, dir. Stephen Frears
Three Kings, dir. David O. Russell
Schindler’s List, dir. Steven Spielberg
Taxi Driver, dir. Martin Scorsese

Theme: Justice, Retaliation, and Revenge
Films about wrongdoing, retaliation, and the ethics of violence.

For general discussion groups:
Unforgiven, dir. Clint Eastwood
Rob Roy, dir. Michael Caton-Jones
Mean Creek, dir. Jacob Aaron Estes
In the Bedroom, dir. Todd Field
High Noon, dir. Fred Zinnemann
Hero, dir. Zhang Yimou
The Searchers, dir. John Ford
Hamlet (1948), dir. Laurence Olivier; Hamlet (1990), dir. Franco Zeffirelli; William Shakespeare’s Hamlet (1996), dir. Kenneth Branagh; or Hamlet (2000), dir. Michael Almereyda
The Widow of St. Pierre, dir. Patrice Leconte
Death and the Maiden, dir. Roman Polanski

For ambitious discussion groups:
Three Colors: White, dir. Krzysztof Kieslowski
The Son, dir. Luc and Jean-Pierre Dardenne
Dogville, dir. Lars Von Trier

Theme: Finding and Telling the Truth
Films about lies and truth-telling.

For general discussion groups:
All the President’s Men, dir. Alan J. Pakula
The Usual Suspects, dir. Bryan Singer
The Insider, dir. Michael Mann
To Kill a Mockingbird, dir. Robert Mulligan
Shattered Glass, dir. Billy Ray
Good Night and Good Luck, dir. George Clooney
The Talented Mr. Ripley, dir. Anthony Minghella
Insomnia, dir. Christopher Nolan
Sophie Scholl: The Final Days, dir. Marc Rothemund
The Exorcism of Emily Rose, dir. Scott Derrickson
A Man for All Seasons, dir. Fred Zinnemann
Erin Brockovich, dir. Steven Soderbergh
Super Size Me, dir. Morgan Spurlock
Brother’s Keeper, dir. Joe Berlinger and Bruce Sinofsky
The Thin Blue Line, dir. Errol Morris
Death and the Maiden, dir. Roman Polanksi
Twelve Angry Men, dir. Sydney Lumet

For ambitious discussion groups:
Rashomon, dir. Akira Kurosawa
The Celebration, dir. Thomas Vinterberg
Chinatown, dir. Roman Polanski

FAITH

Theme: Faith in a Faithless World
Films that explore the challenges of the Christian life.

For general discussion groups:
The Apostle, dir. Robert Duvall
Tender Mercies, dir. Bruce Beresford
The Big Kahuna, dir. John Swanbeck
The Prince of Egypt, dir. Jeffrey Katzenberg
Dead Man Walking, dir. Tim Robbins
Saved!, dir. Brian Dannelly
Signs, M. Night Shyamalan
The Mission, Roland Joffé
Chariots of Fire, dir. Hugh Hudson
Italian for Beginners, dir. Lone Scherfig
Million Dollar Baby, dir. Clint Eastwood
Leap of Faith, dir. Richard Pearce
Shadowlands, dir. Richard Attenborough
Jesus of Montreal, dir. Denys Arcand

For ambitious discussion groups:
Day of Wrath, dir. Carl Theodor Dreyer
Junebug, dir. Phil Morrison
Magnolia*, dir. Paul Thomas Anderson
Winter Light, dir. Ingmar Bergman
Cries and Whispers, dir. Ingmar Bergman
Diary of a Country Priest, Robert Bresson

Theme: Innocents, Fools, Redeemers
Films about innocents, redeemers, and Christ-figures who expose the sins of those around them.

For general discussion groups:
Man Facing Southeast, dir. Eliseo Subiela
Edward Scissorhands, dir. Tim Burton
E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial, dir. Steven Spielberg
The Passion of the Christ, dir. Mel Gibson
The Gospel of John, dir. Philip Saville
Fearless, dir. Peter Weir

For ambitious discussion groups:
The Passion of Joan of Arc, dir. Carl Theodor Dreyer
Ordet, dir. Carl Theodor Dreyer
Jesus of Montreal, dir. Denys Arcand
Au Hasard Balthazar, dir. Robert Bresson
The Life of Bryan, dir. Terry Jones

Theme: The Meaning of Life
Films that challenge us to consider how we should live in the world, and whether there is meaning and design in the world around us.

For general discussion groups:
The Fisher King, dir. Terry Gilliam
Gosford Park, dir. Paul Thomas Anderson
Thirteen Conversations About One Thing, dir. Jill Sprecher
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, dir. Tom Stoppard
Hamlet (1948), dir. Laurence Olivier; Hamlet (1990), dir. Franco Zeffirelli; William Shakespeare’s Hamlet (1996), dir. Kenneth Branagh; or Hamlet (2000), dir. Michael Almereyda
Ikiru, dir. Akira Kurosawa
The New World, dir. Terrence Malick
In America, dir. Jim Sheridan
The Up Series, dir. Michael Apted (28 Up, 35 Up, etc.)

For ambitious discussion groups:
2001: A Space Odyssey, dir. Stanley Kubrick
Au Hasard Balthazar, dir. Robert Bresson
Wings of Desire, dir. Wim Wenders
Yi-Yi (A One and a Two), dir. Edward Yang
Magnolia*, dir. Paul Thomas Anderson
Mindwalk, dir. Bernt Amadeus Capra
Three Colors: Blue, dir. Krzysztof Kieslowski
Three Colors: Red, dir. Krzysztof Kieslowski

MISCELLANEOUS

Theme: What is Human?
Films about what it is that makes human beings distinct from animals and machines.

For general discussion groups:
Fast, Cheap and Out of Control, dir. Errol Morris
A.I. (Artificial Intelligence), dir. Steven Spielberg
Gattaca, dir. Andrew Niccol

For ambitious discussion groups:
Wings of Desire, dir. Wim Wenders
Blade Runner, dir. Ridley Scott
2001: A Space Odyssey, dir. Stanley Kubrick

Theme: Death and Mourning
Films about death, dying, and mourning.

For general discussion groups:
Last Orders, dir. Fred Shepisi
Ponette, Jacques Doillon
Wit, dir. Mike Nichols
Into the West, dir. Mike Newell

For ambitious discussion groups:
Three Colors: Blue, dir. Krzysztof Kieslowski
Tony Takitani, dir. Jun Ichikawa
Cries and Whispers, dir. Ingmar Bergman
The Sweet Hereafter, dir. Atom Egoyan
Love and Death, dir. Woody Allen

Theme: Short Stories about Sin, Consequences, and Wisdom
Films that examine multiple storylines about choices and consequences.

For general discussion groups:
Thirteen Conversations About One Thing, dir. Jill Sprecher
Personal Velocity, dir. Rebecca Miller
Gosford Park, dir. Robert Altman
Nine Lives, dir. Rodrigo Garcia

For ambitious discussion groups:
The Decalogue, dir. Krzysztof Kieslowski
Magnolia*, dir. Paul Thomas Anderson
Short Cuts, dir. Robert Altman

Theme: Fear
Films about the things that scare us and how we respond to them.

For general discussion groups:
Limbo, dir. John Sayles
The Sixth Sense, dir. M. Night Shyamalan
The Village, dir. M. Night Shyamalan
Unbreakable, dir. M. Night Shyamalan
Signs, dir. M. Night Shyamalan

For ambitious discussion groups:
Safe, dir. Todd Haynes
Dr. Strangelove, dir. Stanley Kubrick
Time of the Wolf, dir. Michael Haneke
Cache, dir. Michael Haneke

Theme: Survival
Films that examine the hardship of living at the mercy of the elements, or of getting through a dark time when civilization is threatened.

For general discussion groups:
Cast Away, dir. Robert Zemeckis
Wit, dir. Mike Nichols
Signs, dir. M. Night Shyamalan
Watership Down, dir. Martin Rosen
Empire of the Sun, dir. Steven Spielberg
War of the Worlds, dir. Steven Spielberg
Lord of the Flies, dir. Peter Brook

For ambitious discussion groups:
The Pianist, dir. Roman Polanski
Time of the Wolf, dir. Michael Haneke

WORLDVIEW

Theme: When Worldviews Conflict and Contrast
Films about differing worldviews, and what happens when they clash.

For general discussion groups:
The Mission, Roland Joffé
The Unbelievable Truth, dir. Hal Hartley
Witness, dir. Peter Weir
Saved!, dir. Brian Dannelly
The Mosquito Coast, dir. Peter Weir
Fearless, dir. Peter Weir
Man on the Train, dir. Patrice Leconte
Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World, dir. Peter Weir
The Widow of St. Pierre, dir. Patrice Leconte

For ambitious discussion groups:
Ordet, dir. Carl Dreyer
Waking Life, Richard Linklater
Three Colors: Red, dir. Krzysztof Kieslowksi
Junebug, dir. Phil Morrison
Safe, dir. Todd Haynes
I Heart Huckabees, dir. David O. Russell

IMAGINATION

Theme: Art, Artists, and Creativity
Films that examine the challenges that artists face, the role of art in society, and the temptations that come with creative genius.

For general discussion groups:
Pollock, dir. Ed Harris
Amadeus, dir. Milos Forman
Sweet and Lowdown, dir. Woody Allen
No Direction Home: Bob Dylan, dir. Martin Scorsese
The Cradle Will Rock, dir. Tim Robbins
Girl with the Pearl Earring, dir. Peter Webber
Rivers and Tides: Any Goldsworthy Working with Time, dir. Thomas Riedelsheimer

For ambitious discussion groups:
The Five Obstructions, dir. Lars Von Trier
Andrei Rublev, dir. Andrei Tarkovsky

Theme: Talent and Genius
Films about people who use their gifts in many and varied ways, with differing motives and results.

For general discussion groups:
Amadeus, dir. Milos Forman
Citizen Kane, dir. Orson Welles
Vincent and Theo, dir. Robert Altman
No Direction Home: Bob Dylan, dir. Martin Scorsese
Good Will Hunting, dir. Gus Van Sant
Searching for Bobby Fischer, dir. Steve Zallian
Big Night, dir. Campbell Scott and Stanley Tucci
The Aviator, dir. Martin Scorsese
Quiz Show, dir. Robert Redford
Capote, dir. Bennett Miller

For ambitious discussion groups:
Barton Fink, dir. Joel and Ethan Coen

And, just for fun…
The Hudsucker Proxy, dir. Joel and Ethan Coen

Themes: Imagination and Faith
Films about living imaginatively and with faith in a world that is driven by rationality and doubt.

For general discussion groups:
The Adventures of Baron Munchausen, dir. Terry Gilliam
Finding Neverland, dir. Marc Forster
Amelie, dir. Jean-Pierre Jeunet
American Splendor, dir. Shari Springer Berman and Robert Pulcini
Big Fish, dir. Tim Burton
The Secret of Roan Inish, dir. John Sayles

For ambitious discussion groups:
Brazil, Terry Gilliam

WONDER

Theme: Drawn Toward Mystery
Films about characters who answer a mysterious call, or who step forward in wonder and faith where others draw back in fear and skepticism.

For general discussion groups:
Picnic at Hanging Rock, dir. Peter Weir
Fearless, dir. Peter Weir
The Secret of Roan Inish, dir. John Sayles
Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Steven Spielberg
Into the West, dir. Mike Newell

For ambitious discussion groups:
Grizzly Man*, dir. Werner Herzog
The Double Life of Veronique, dir. Krzysztof Kieslowski
Wings of Desire, dir. Wings of Desire
Solaris, dir. Andrei Tarkovsky
The Mirror, dir. Andrei Tarkovsky

PERSPECTIVES

Theme: It’s Tough Being a Kid
Films that consider the world through the eyes of children and teenagers, revealing the pressures, fears, and questions they experience.

For general discussion groups:
In America, dir. Jim Sheridan
Ponette, dir. Jacques Doillon
My Neighbor Totoro, dir. Hayao Miyazaki
E.T. – The Extra-Terrestrial, dir. Steven Spielberg
Empire of the Sun, dir. Steven Spielberg
Into the West, dir. Mike Newell
Children of Heaven, dir. Majid Majidi
The Color of Paraidse, dir. Majid Majidi
My Life as a Dog, dir. Lasse Haalstrom
Stand by Me, dir. Rob Reiner

For ambitious discussion groups:
Mean Creek, dir. Jacob Aaron Estes
Crazy/Beautiful, dir. John Stockwell
George Washington, David Gordon Green
The Butcher Boy, dir. Neil Jordan
Thirteen, dir. Catherine Hardwicke
The 400 Blows, dir. François Truffaut

Theme: Aging
Films about growing old.

For general discussion groups:
The Up Series, dir. Michael Apted (28 Up, 35 Up, 42 Up, etc.)
Nobody’s Fool, dir. Robert Benton
Fried Green Tomatoes, dir. Jon Avnet
Iris, dir. Richard Eyre
Mr. and Mrs. Bridge, dir. James Ivory
Mrs. Brown, John Madden
Shadowlands, dir. Richard Attenborough
The Straight Story, dir. David Lynch

For ambitious discussion groups:
Ikiru, dir. Akira Kurosawa
Tokyo Story, dir. Yasujiro Ozu
The Seventh Seal, Ingmar Bergman
Wild Strawberries, Ingmar Bergman

Theme: Culture Clash
Films about people of different cultures colliding, interacting, coping with, and learning from each other.

For general discussion groups:
Witness, dir. Peter Weir
Crash, dir. Paul Haggis
House of Sand and Fog, dir. Vadim Perelman
Dances with Wolves, dir. Kevin Costner
Whale Rider, Niki Caro
Empire of the Sun, dir. Steven Spielberg
The Gods Must Be Crazy, dir.
Do the Right Thing, dir. Spike Lee
Bend It Like Beckham, dir.

For ambitious discussion groups:
Time of the Wolf, dir. Michael Haneke
Code Unknown, dir. Michael Haneke
The World, dir. ZhangKe Jia
Distant, dir. Nuri Ceylan Blige
Junebug, dir. Phil Morrison
Three Kings, dir. David O. Russell
The Ballad of Jack and Rose, dir. Rebecca Miller

Theme: Films to Inspire and Challenge Children
Films for adults to watch with children and discuss afterward.

For five-year-olds and up:
My Neighbor Totoro, dir. Hayao Miyazaki
The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh, dir. John Lounsbery and Wolfgang Reitherman
Toy Story, dir. John Lasseter
Lilo and Stitch, dir. Dean DeBlois and Chris Sanders
The Wizard of Oz, dir. Victor Fleming, Mervyn LeRoy, Richard Thorpe, and King Vidor

For eight-year-olds and up:
Duma, dir. Carroll Ballard
The Black Stallion, dir. Carroll Ballard
The Little Princess, dir. Alfonzo Cuarón
Finding Nemo, dir. Andrew Stanton
The Secret of Roan Inish, dir. John Sayles
The Emperor’s New Groove, dir. Mark Dindal
Mary Poppins, dir. Robert Stevenson
Babe, dir. George Miller
The Muppet Movie, dir. James Frawley
The Iron Giant, dir. Brad Bird
Kiki’s Delivery Service, dir. Hayao Miyazaki
The Miracle Maker, dir. Derek W. Hayes and Stanislav Sokolov
The Secret Garden, dir. Agnieska Holland
Monsters, Inc., dir. Pete Docter, David Silverman, and Lee Unkrich
Cars, dir. John Lasseter
The Story of the Weeping Camel, dir. Byambasuren Davaa and Luigi Falorni

For ten-year-olds and up:
The Princess Bride, dir. Rob Reiner
Star Wars, dir. George Lucas
Watership Down, dir. Martin Rosen
Into the West, dir. Mike Newell
Spirited Away, dir. Hayao Miyazaki
Holes, dir. Andrew Davis
March of the Penguins, dir. Luc Jacquet
Microcosmos, dir. Claude Nuridsany and Marie Pérennou
To Kill a Mockingbird, dir. Robert Mulligan

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Through a Screen Darkly – Recommended Reading

Friday, November 28th, 2008

Through a Screen Darkly

Bonus Materials

Recommended Books on Faith and Art

Thomas Merton, Raids on the Unspeakable.(New Directions books.)
In the sixties, Father Thomas Merton challenged artists to break loose from cultural and religious agendas that hindered them from creating freely and with excellence. He alerts us to the dangerous lies that lure artists to pride, to hollow success, and to what we now commonly call “selling out.”

Gregory Wolfe, Intruding Upon the Timeless
Jeremy Begbie, Voicing Creation’s Praise: Towards a Theology of the Arts (Harper Collins, 1991)
A critique of Protestant involvement and perspective on the arts.
Frank Ely Gabelein, The Christian, The Arts, and the Truth: Regaining the Vision of Greatness (A Critical Concern Book, edited by Dr. Bruce Lockerbie, Multnomah Press, 1985).
Gabelein takes a scholarly, organized approach to the subject, examining Scripture’s perspectives on the arts, and challenges readers to a higher aesthetic standard, contemplating literature, music, education, the Christian use of leisure, and the social responsibilities of “Christian humanists”.
Madeleine L’Engle, Walking on Water: Reflection on Faith and Art (NorthPoint Press, 1980), Penguins and Golden Calves.
Two must-reads-the first, a journal-like contemplation on L’Engle’s personal experiences as a maturing artist and Christian, full of insight on the relationship between childlike faith and artistry; the second, an examination of the value of icons and the danger of idols, and how modern Christianity seems to forget the power of icons out of the fear of idolatry.
Dr. Bruce Lockerbie, The Timeless Moment (currently out of print).
One of the best overviews and most challenging contemplations on Christianity and the arts ever written.
H. Richard Niebuhr, Christ and Culture.
An examination of various Christian approaches of how to be “in” the world, but not “of” it.
Chaim Potok, My Name is Asher Lev, The Gift of Asher Lev.
Two classic novels about a young artist who seeks to pursue his art in good conscience, in spite of opposition from family and community. A must for any “persecuted” artist.
Hans Rookmaaker, Art Needs No Justification (IVP, 1978).
A Biblical defense for artists.
Leland Ryken, The Liberated Imagination: Thinking Christianly About the Arts (Harold Shaw, 1986).
An overview of major issues confronting the Christian mind regarding artistic pursuits.
Dorothy L. Sayers, The Mind of the Maker (Harper San Francisco, 1987 reprint).
A masterpiece on the subject of creativity in service of the Creator.
Frances Schaeffer, Addicted to Mediocrity: 20th Century Christians and the Arts (Good News Publishers, 1981).
Schaeffer takes a look at the lamentable state of the arts in the Christian realm, criticizes the lukewarmness of the common fare, and philosophizes about how we got to here from there.
Phillip Yancey ed., Reality and the Vision.
Wonderful. Challenging examinations of great writers by the Christian writers who were inspired by them. (Featuring Stephen Lawhead, Phillip Yancey, Madeleine L’Engle, and many others, considering writers from Tolkien to Flannery O’Connor.)

Resources on Individual Artists

Chris Smith’s Madeleine L’Engle Web Resource
For C.S. Lewis fans, go Into the Wardrobe.
A good site for Christian novelist Flannery O’Connor.
To learn more about Jeremy Begbie, Chaim Potok, Hans Rookmaaker, and Dorothy L. Sayers, go to their individual websites.
Frances A Schaeffer and his wife, Edith, are the founders of L’Abri.

REWARDING FILMS FOR MOVIE DISCUSSION GROUPS

* Films for General Adult Discussion Groups
* Films for Ambitious Adult Discussion Groups
* Films to Discuss with Young Viewers

(more…)

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Through a Screen Darkly – Questions for Film Discussion Groups

Friday, November 28th, 2008

QUESTIONS FOR MOVIE DISCUSSION GROUPS

Consider these to be prompts to get things moving, or suggestions for expanding a conversation into new territory.

This is by no means a comprehensive list of post-viewing questions. They represent avenues of conversation that I have found rewarding and even surprising when audiences have been willing to stay for a while, share their experiences, and gain from hearing the perspectives of others.
(more…)

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Through a Screen Darkly – Bonus Commentary – The Court Jester of Christian Rock

Friday, November 28th, 2008

Christian Culture’s Court Jester: A Note of Thanks to Steve Taylor

This reflection on the work of Steve Taylor was originally intended as part of the chapter on comedy in Through a Screen Darkly.

•

Directed by the Court Jester of Christian Rock

As a teenager, I was disillusioned with the relentless, unflinching solemnity and superficiality of most contemporary Christian music. A great deal of what I heard on Christian radio amounted to a tiresome program of redundant, shallow praises; disposable, simplistic choruses; sentimental appeals to emotion rather than challenging observations or provocative poetry. They were played with effusive piano flourishes, programmed keyboards, cheesy drum machines, and amateur electric guitars.

The Book of Psalms is constantly calling for “a new song” to be offered in praise of God’s greatness, but when I tuned in to the Christian radio station, I heard music that lacked passion, authenticity, and true musicianship. It wasn’t new at all. It was a cheap imitation of what had been popular on secular radio a year earlier. I heard people giving God mediocrity instead of excellence.

Along came a tall, somewhat gawky, mischievous clown named Steve Taylor, whose songs shocked and troubled many who heard them. He wrote songs that made fun of Christian culture, highlighting the tendency of churches to develop their own codes of conformity and judgmentalism like any other community.

“I Want to Be a Clone” became an anthem for frustrated Christian youth who knew that being a Christian meant more than learning the right answers to questions, feeling good about ourselves, and accepting whatever sermons were preached at us.

“Meltdown” was a song mocking pop culture’s obsession with fashion and surface details. Taylor used extreme metaphors to draw our attention to important unspoken truths.

In “Lifeboat,” children sang a shocking chorus about throwing the elderly, the injured, the weak, and the disabled out of a boat. In doing so, Taylor spotlighted society’s dangerous and arrogant progression toward the devaluation of certain lives. He emphasized, by implication, that it is sinful to reject those whose presence seems inconvenient or discomforting.

Come to think of it, Christ himself was rather fond of exaggeration for effect. To explain how important it is that we avoid sin, he said that if a part of our body is involved in misbehavior we should cut it off. The church has had very little trouble recognizing the exaggeration — I don’t know of any denominations in which the men actually gouge out their eyes if they find themselves momentarily distracted by a Victoria’s Secret commercial.

To explain just how difficult it was to surrender one’s pride and submit to God, Christ described salvation as a process of being born into the world all over again. Prone to offense, literal-minded Pharisees were bewildered at such talk. But Nicodemus was brave enough to inquire about the teacher’s extreme claim. He asked Jesus if this meant he would have to climb back inside his mother’s womb. Jesus patiently introduced Nicodemus to the idea of the Fanciful Metaphor, explaining that such colorful terms gave us a way of understanding something crucial.

But Steve Taylor did more than poke fun at Christian and secular culture. He also sang songs that were affirmations of true faith, confessions of doubt and failure. Because of his willingness to laugh at the folly of believers, his songs of praise to God resonated with integrity and authenticity. (And I must not forget to mention … these were powerful, excellent songs, full of specificity and personality.)

Many of us found great relief in his music because we knew that his vision was sharp enough to see the hypocrisy, self-righteousness, and power-plays happening in the name of Christ. And it bolstered our faith to learn that someone could see these things, laugh at them, reject them, and offer his praise and allegiance to God.

Did I mention that his melodies and music showed more ingenuity and craftsmanship than almost anything else on Christian radio? In fact, when Taylor formed a rock group called Chagall Guevara, their first album exhibited such vision and quality that even the mainstream press noticed – Rolling Stone heralded the band as the most exciting rock group since The Clash.

Steve Taylor is still courageously lifting up mirrors so that the church can see its flaws and learn from the experience. His first film, The Second Chance, is about the pastor of an inner-city church who struggles to meet the needs of the desperate and the despairing. The mega-church that oversees this smaller ministry decides to eliminate the facility in order to earn money for an expansion, proceeding with a blind eye to the damage this will do to those in serious need.

The film stars Michael W. Smith as the music minister of the mega-church, a man who comes to see just how far he has strayed from Christ’s teaching. Because he is the son of the mega-church’s pastor, he finds himself caught in the middle, trying to do the right thing.

The film received mixed responses by Christian culture, and the lack of enthusiasm from its intended audience and its studio doomed its theatrical release. I read more than one review in Christian publications in which the writer complained that Taylor should not have discussed the imperfections of the church in front of a secular audience.

And in this way, we reinforce the point – that we are too proud to admit our weaknesses, and the gross caricatures painted by mainstream culture which ridicule Christians as pious and condescending, well, they’re often right on the mark.

In Thoughts in Solitude, Thomas Merton writes:

Teach me to bear a humility which shows me, without ceasing, that I am a liar and a fraud and that, even though this is so, I have an obligation to strive after truth, to be as true as I can, even though I will inevitably find all my truth half poisoned with deceit. This is the terrible thing about humility: that it is never fully successful. If it were only possible to be completely humble on this earth. But, no, that is the trouble.

It takes humility to do good comedy. It takes humility to receive it.

And for the gift of his insightful comedy, I want to thank Steve Taylor. He’s the real thing, and he’s made a huge difference in my life.

•

a conversation with Steve Taylor

I spoke with Steve Taylor in October 2006 about the DVD release of his film The Second Chance.

JO: First of all, a formal eruption of gratitude: When I was but a teenager, bewildered and be-pimpled, your songwriting had a great deal to do with my learning to think more carefully about my faith. You prevented me from blowing up any clinics or throwing anyone off lifeboats. And it gave me a lot of courage to question and challenge behavior within Christian circles that did not align with the teachings of Christ. Thank you. Thank you. And thank you again.

(Now’s your chance to deflect all of this praise and say, “I couldn’t have done it without…”)

ST: …couldn’t have done it without (in no particular order) The Clash, Francis Schaeffer, my parents, David Bowie, Randy Newman, Os Guinness, Elvis Costello, Tony Campolo…hmmm, the list needs more women…Flannery O’Connor, Mother Teresa…

JO: Let’s stroll back down memory lane a bit: It must have been challenging to deal with the range of responses that your early albums received, as they were rowdy and challenging compared to the norm? Do you have any scars from having the courage to introduce elements such as satire and irony into the arena of Christian music?

ST: For better or worse, it was all I knew how to do. The style of music I wanted to make seemed to demand that type of lyric. And there were enough absurdities going on within Christendom that I had no problem finding material – I recall some very large fish swimming in the proverbial barrel.

JO: How do you think the opportunities and challenges for Christians who are singers and songwriters have changed since you were starting out? Or have they?

ST: I look at someone like Sufjan Stevens as the best current example of what’s possible these days. If you’re undeniably good, being a Christian no longer seems to carry the same stigma that it did in past decades.

JO: Did you want to become a filmmaker all along the way? Were you dancing in the video to “Jim Morrison’s Grave” while thinking, “What I really want to do is direct?” Or is that a more recent development?

ST: It preceded my musical aspirations and dates all the way back to grade school. I’m sure it somehow tied in with my top priority from the day I entered kindergarten: Making girls laugh. I studied both music and filmmaking in college, but the opportunities came faster in music. I decided feature filmmaking could wait, and I was able to keep my toe in the filmmaking pond by directing music videos, promo pieces and documentaries.

JO: What have you learned from the experience of developing, filming, releasing, and marketing The Second Chance? What will you do differently on your next film projects?

ST: I’m not a mathematician, but coming from the world of music, the rough equation would be m=aX10 (movie = album X 10). If an album cost around $100,000 to make, then add another zero for the movie budget. If an album took 8-10 weeks, the movie took a couple of years. For every critical creative decision made daily on an album, there were ten times that many coming at me each day on the movie set. For every person in the recording studio, there were 10-20 on set. Maybe I’ll run this equation by Stephen Hawking for a proof.

The process of making the movie was pretty wonderful. I don’t want this to sound like an awards speech, but I had great creative collaborators including my longtime cinematographer and co-writer Ben Pearson, my other co-writer Chip Arnold, producers Coke Sams and Clarke Gallivan, and a really fine crew. I also loved working with the actors, many of whom were shooting their first movie. Michael W. Smith was a blast to work with as well as a great encourager, and his co-star jeff obafemi carr was superb.

It was a very tight budget, which affects everything, but I’m pleased with the way it turned out. I’d originally wanted my directorial debut to be a comedy, but that script wasn’t ready and this one was. In retrospect, it was probably for the best – the story in The Second Chance seems to pull people in, which helps make my rookie director mistakes a bit less obvious.

The marketing was a bit more problematic. I encountered a lot of the same attitudes that made me want to start my own record label, including some baffling decisions that I protested quite loudly at the time. But ultimately it wasn’t an area I could exert much influence over. And the nice thing about DVDs is that they provide their own second chance.

JO: Recently, I read an interview in which a Christian artist flinched at criticism of his work. He pointed to the money it was making, and the number of people who had testified that the work brought them to Christ, and he said that this was all the evidence he needed that he had fulfilled his role as an artist and a Christian. Personally, I’m skeptical that box office success and the number of souls saved have much to do with artistic excellence.

How do you measure the success of a project? What is it that tells you that a film, or a song, is as good as it should be?

ST: I’m sure he and I wouldn’t get on very well, because that attitude drives me nuts.

Filmmaking is a particularly bad career choice if you’re afraid of criticism, because when it comes to movies, everyone’s a critic. Since I knew The Second Chance had scenes and themes that some could find offensive or controversial, a lot of the final editing process involved showing it to audiences and seeing if it was controversial for the right reasons. I wasn’t willing to stop editing until I was reasonably sure the movie was hitting the right notes with its intended audience.

I looked forward to reading the reviews, and I thought for the most part the critics were pretty fair and the critical consensus was about right. Since I’ve still got so much to learn as a filmmaker, any advice from seasoned experts is a blessing.

There are various artifacts from my creative past that make me wince, but it wasn’t for lack of trying at the time. My goal is to not to let anything go out the door until it’s as good as I can make it.

JO: What has been the most gratifying outcome of making The Second Chance?

ST: With the country so polarized at the moment, I was happy that a movie coming from an “orthodox” Christian perspective could cross so many lines. People on all sides of the various divides felt like this was “their” movie.

And, of course, I was happy that our little movie got picked up by Sony Pictures Releasing. Since I’d taken out a second mortgage on my house to make it, that part felt a bit like a non-gambler winning the lottery.

JO: You’ve said that you chose this project because it was about “what you know”… pastors, churches, and church culture. Filmmakers do frequently misrepresent what pastors and churches are really like, so it’s good that you took this on. Have you had much feedback from pastors about The Second Chance? Have they been pleased or challenged by the film?

ST: It’s ultimately a movie made for the church, and it’s meant to make people uncomfortable, as it deals with issues we as a church don’t necessarily want to address. The reaction from most pastors I spoke to was very favorable, but it did make some of them nervous. One of my favorite scenes is early on in a restaurant when the senior pastor won’t send his steak back – the server knows who he is, and he just doesn’t feel comfortable causing extra trouble. My dad was like that, and it’s one of many things I admire about him. When you’re a pastor, you’re reminded daily that your life is not your own.

A constant challenge in crafting the story was to keep enough dramatic tension so the plot moves forward without drifting into simplistic propaganda of the “Big White Church Bad/Little Black Church Good” variety. Audiences have been conditioned by Hollywood to think in simplistic terms, especially when it comes to matters of faith and race, and we tend to view such conflicts as The Man vs. The Underdog. We worked hard to give everyone their reasons – even the head of The Rock’s board believes his job is all about stewardship.

I thought Michael W. Smith made a particularly gutsy decision in playing his role – his public profile made the part more relatable to a church audience, and he wasn’t afraid to play a very flawed character. That particular bit of casting still feels to me like an appropriately subversive way to get people to watch a movie that’s meant to make them squirm.

JO: If you could set up a film course for aspiring filmmakers, what films would you have them watch, and why?

ST: I’d start with a double feature of The Bicycle Thief and Raising Arizona. Then I’d ask anyone who didn’t like either of the movies to please leave and never come back.

JO: What kind of preconceptions would you most like to see artists within the church start to overcome in the next decade?

ST: Steve Turner’s book “Imagine” has already made the case. The Amazon link is here.

JO: If the next generation’s Steve Taylor were to show up in Christian music right now, what kinds of things would he be singing to rattle the cages and shake up the status quo? (And, I know you’re sick of this, but I promised someone that I’d ask… Is there any chance of another rock album from the Fritz-master?)

ST: If I thought too hard about that question, it would just make me want to get back into the recording studio. And I certainly haven’t ruled that out for some future date, but for now I’m itching to make more movies.

JO: What have you heard recently, out there on the open sea of music, that’s made you go berserk with joy like the dudes in those iPod commercials?

ST: It’s a long list – now that I’m no longer in the music business, I actually enjoy listening to music again: Sufjan, Arcade Fire, clean versions of Kanye West, the Danielson “Ships” album, various L.A. Symphony tracks, a Nashville band called Umbrella Tree…hmmm, the list needs more women – did Mother Teresa ever record anything?

JO: In “Harrowdown Hill,” when Thom Yorke sings, “Did I fall or was I pushed?”, is he referring to your accident at Cornerstone 1984?

ST: The festival’s name was no accident – anything of musical value in the last twenty-five years can somehow be traced back to Cornerstone.

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Through a Screen Darkly – Bonus Commentary – Spooked by Safe

Friday, November 28th, 2008

Through a Screen Darkly

bonus commentary:

Spooked By “Safe”

This reflection on Todd Haynes’ film “Safe” was originally intended as part of the examination of horror films in Through a Screen Darkly.

•

“Is it safe?”

Thanks to a nightmare-inducing movie called Marathon Man, those three simple words send chills down my spine. Laurence Olivier asked that question, again and again, playing the role of a sadistic Nazi war criminal who is torturing his captive. Dustin Hoffman is strapped into a dentist’s chair, screaming as the wicked doctor pulls at his teeth and jabs at nerve endings. He does not know what his captor is talking about. He has no answer to the question.

“Is it safe?”

The question becomes the answer – no, it definitely isn’t safe.

It’s the same question that hovers over the entirety of Todd Haynes’ little-known, but unforgettable picture misleadingly titled Safe.

* * *

Safe begins in a discomforting stillness, leaving us to grope for our bearings.

We’re looking out through the car windshield on a suburban community. In the dim light, this suburban neighborhood seems rather unsettling. The streets are empty. The houses are dark. And we’re not sure if the occupants of the car are a threat or sympathetic. We don’t hear a thing. Just the low hum of the car. Is it silent in the car, or is the director depriving us of hearing what is going on? It seems we’re sealed in an insulated world, looking at a ghost town, which is reflected in an inverted image on the polished, glossy hood of the car – a quiet suggestion of an upside-down world, a false and distorted reality.

It could be that the reflection is incidental, or that the quiet is just the setup for a car crash or a shout. But no. The car glides smoothly into the garage of an ordinary house, and the couple get out. They may as well be sleepwalking. We can hear them say something to each other. Their words are muffled, but the tone tells us that it’s probably a practical exchange. They’ve probably done this hundreds of times.

The opening title, when it appears, is styled like the narrow, forbidding figures of a horror movie title.

Is a serial killer waiting inside? Will we learn someone was hiding in the back seat?

Suddenly, we’re startled by the shift into a downward-looking view of the couple having sex. We see the husband’s back, and Carol’s face staring absently up at the ceiling. Her face bears the expression of someone patiently finishing a chore. She doesn’t look miserable, but there is no passion. There is, in fact, nothing. And when he’s finished, well, that’s that.

Has she surrendered to doing things his way? Or is she just passionless and uninterested?

So now we are suspecting that she is profoundly lonely and detached. But why?

As her husband departs, we notice, because we’re waiting to see his face, that the camera is not in any hurry to reveal him to us. And we shift into assuming that the film is about the woman.

And the next scene confirms this even more. Carol is working in the manicured yard, wearing designer jeans and working in the orderly garden. And as her husband leaves for work, we’re still disallowed a clear view of his face.

Haynes has already drawn our focus to elements that are prominent themes in his work: the stifling effect of order, the suffocating effect of wealth, the bondage of cultural “peer pressure,” and the soul’s hunger for passion and intimacy. The cold beams of the electronic soundtrack only accentuate the superficiality of the visible world in which Carol is trapped. Haynes’ camerawork feels dispassionate and clinical, like we’re watching a science experiment instead of a drama.

It may be, in fact, a science experiment. We learn very soon that something is, indeed, terribly wrong. When the horror sinks its claws in, we watch Carol gasping for breath. Is it a dark secret? A double life? An alien presence? Undiagnosed illness? An invisible wraith? Food allergies?

The tension rises as we begin to search for the cause of such cold, empty behavior, such harrowing episodes of hyperventilation.

As the film progresses, we may begin to discern what threads are binding the scenes together, like the tendency to show vast empty spaces around the central figures, the curious habit of characters to crowd together in corners, or to separate themselves with walls.

You may come to a completely different conclusion than me. My thoughts about Carol’s affliction change from viewing to viewing. Currently, I am suspecting that the situation reflects something more than a physical affliction. Haynes has lent a slight exaggeration to everything, emphasizing ever so slightly the ways that decorum, formality, affluence, and all of the trappings of civilization can cloak an emptiness of the spirit, serving as disguises for (and distractions from) our flaws, our fears, our need. It might also be true that these formalities prevent that void from being filled.

Haynes’ refusal to serve up a simple solution for this misery can be frustrating at first. But that is what makes Safe so interesting, so compelling. He’s demonstrating the ability of art to ask profound questions. In fact, the film is more than a question – Safe is an expression of lack, a despairing sort of cry.

There is nowhere we can go that is safe from the incompleteness of the human condition… at least, not in this film.

* * *

I recently observed, in an online conversation between moviegoing friends, a perfect example of how a horror film can be crafted in a way that serves more than it scares.

John Adair, a doctoral candidate in historical theology who lives in Dallas, participates in an online film-discussion group that recently agreed to watch Safe on DVD for the first time and discuss it. John’s a thoughtful viewer – he cherishes Kieslowski’s Decalogue. And when he posted his first impressions of Safe, I felt that familiar thrill, seeing someone else experience the kind of epiphany that draws me back to the movies again and again.

He wrote:

The initial thing that struck me was Haynes’ reserved style. The shots tend to be wide, allowing the actors to act in front of us, rather than using editing to elicit reactions from the viewer. This forces us to react to what is going on before us, to formulate an opinion, to have a perspective of our own on the events taking place.

It’s interesting to me that John started by examining the camerawork and editing, instead of going straight to how it made him feel. And what he noticed is very important. Most filmmakers give us a variety of shots during a scene, as if worried they’ll lose our attention. In doing so they emphasize what they think is important about the scene. In Safe, Haynes discomforts us by making us decide for ourselves what to focus on, as if we’re Carol’s neighbors watching her through the window. In doing so, he turns us into searchers, like Carol, trying to make sense of her suffering.

But John was just getting started. He went on to point out ways in which Haynes’ direction showed Carol “isolated throughout much of the film.” He noticed details about her sex life, her lack of communication with her worried husband, her conversations with her friends, and her interaction with a psychiatrist that reinforced his sense of her isolation.

Finding a pattern, John grew interested in what it meant. But he wasn’t just watching, detached, like Damiel looking down on Marion in Wings of Desire. John knew that his own personal experience was affecting his perspective. And as he allowed the horror of Carol’s experience to sink in and mix with his own experience, he discovered something about himself.

…About midway through, I realized my reaction to Carol and her plight was more negative than I would hope for myself. I found it difficult to connect with her. She just seemed weak and weepy and it was frustrating me.

But this is where I think the greatness of this film comes in. Because of its pulled back style, it allowed me to formulate that opinion for myself, and thus turn a mirror on myself that would not have happened had Haynes been pulling out all the little tricks to get me to empathize with his main character.

I almost feel like Haynes is doing everything he can to isolate Carol from any experience that is familiar to the audience. Her husband doesn’t know what’s going on with her. Her doctors can’t figure out what it is. Even the people at the ranch don’t seem all that insightful into her problems. Yet still she struggles and suffers.

And then he came to a conclusion.

In doing so, the film revealed to me that my own empathy has limits, which of course I know, but it’s still a powerful moment of realization for me. The film, through showing the weakness of a person, in its own way, revealed my own weakness and limitation.

All of this, from his first encounter with an odd, overlooked art film – a film full of horror, discomforting human behavior, and lacking any satisfying resolution.

That’s what art can do, when the artist is careful to serve the audience, even with discomforting representations. For those who watch with discretion and discernment, horror can reveal our limitations, and inspire us to seek, to find, to grow.

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Through a Screen Darkly – Bonus Chapter – The Whole Wide World

Friday, November 28th, 2008

Through a Screen Darkly

bonus chapter:

The Whole Wide World

A consideration of Crash, Gosford Park, and Yi-Yi

“How can I know what you see?”

- Eight-year-old Yang-Yang, in the film Yi Yi (A One and a Two)

“When there’s all kinds of chaos
And everyone is walking lame
You don’t even blink now do you
Don’t even look away
So I try to be like you
Try to feel it like you do…”
- U2, “When I Look at the World”

A Crash-Course in Cultural Prejudice

When writer-director Paul Haggis’s film Crash won Best Picture at the 75th Academy Awards in 2006, some dismissed the event as a disgrace. They claimed that Hollywood was just too afraid to hand the award to Ang Lee’s movie about distraught homosexuals, Brokeback Mountain.

Homosexuality has become such a headline-grabbing issue in our society that anything less than a dramatic victory for Brokeback Mountain was sure to be interpreted by many as a failure of compassion and conviction.

But I sincerely doubt that Crash won the big award because Hollywood liberals are liberal enough or audacious enough. Crash meant a great deal to a lot of moviegoers. The movie explores the many and varied forms of racism and prejudice thoroughly, and that probably inspired many to celebrate Haggis’s vision.

And Crash does more than that. It also addresses the contemporary reality that even as we develop more and more ways to stay in touch, we are distancing ourselves from one another.

In a capitalist society, people indulge their personal freedoms in the pursuit of happiness, and become focused on consumption rather than communication. They install guards to filter out people they’d rather not engage. Their talk turns cheaper, quicker, more efficient, and less communicative. They buy things that they think will earn them status, respect, and personal advantages. When this doesn’t satisfy them, they need someone to blame, so they reach for the most available targets – other kinds of people.

Prejudice spreads like a virus in Crash, so that all of Los Angeles seems to be infected with it. Everyone’s miserable, and any exchange can transform people into raving bigots. It feels like watching 28 Days Later, the zombie-movie in which people turned ravenous and wrathful due to a highly contagious virus.

Raw with post-9/11 rage, a gun store owner judges a customer based on his appearance. An African American’s resentment towards prejudice leads him to behavior that reinforces negative stereotypes – holding up two white folks and stealing their car. A wealthy Caucasian woman distrusts her Hispanic handyman. A white cop uses his status to take humiliate an African American man by abusing his wife during a traffic stop.

In each case, Haggis makes one person out to be a monster, and then, later, he surprises us by attempting to humanize them with revelations that are designed to challenge our assumptions.

Haggis had won the previous year as well, for writing Clint Eastwood’s Million Dollar Baby, which focused on three complex characters and challenging ethical dilemmas. Haggis is a writer preoccupied with ethics, portraying our day-to-day interactions as complicated and taxing. Both films exhaust the viewer. But Crash is doubly exhausting, simply because of its large host of characters.

You could call it a movie with a “God’s-eye” view. We move through a vast, complex community, listening in on the private lives of numerous individuals in strikingly different circumstances. We get the whole picture, and everyone gets a fair treatment.

It’s a method of moviemaking that few directors can pull off. Some who try only end up creating an overstuffed drama, in which many stories play out shallowly, without giving us enough time to grow attached to the characters.

But when this “God’s-eye” method works, it can elevate cinema to another level, reminding us that our choices have far-reaching influence on the lives of others, and no one is too small to make a significant difference.

Further, in films that allow us to observe these complicated webs of relationships, the storyteller has a chance to encourage compassion for a wide variety of people. In order to do that, he must efficiently develop three-dimensional characters and avoid turning anyone into a scapegoat.

Even though he won the Oscar, director Sam Mendes and writer Alan Bell failed with American Beauty. They gave us many characters and multiple threads of story, but they played their game unfairly, excusing one incredibly smug and rebellious hero, while painting a gross caricature of a conservative Republican to be a target of our contempt.

Haggis succeeds somewhat with Crash. He avoids making a scapegoat of anyone in particular. We see evidence of discrimination all the time, recognizing it in certain forms that frequent news headlines. Under Haggis’s microscope, the tumors of this cancer show up in people of all races, economic strata, and occupations, even in everyday business transactions. Many viewers will come away with a greater awareness of racism’s complexity and the folly of believing that the government or the cops can fix the problem.

But In my opinion, Haggis’s stories are too simplistic. Beyond their rage and their problems at home, his characters don’t come to life in convincing ways. Their stories seem calculated to pile irony upon irony, shocking reversal upon shocking reversal, and the ideas in the film are anything but subtle. Insights are spelled out for us: “In L.A., nobody touches you. We’re always behind this metal and glass,” muses Graham (Don Cheadle) in the opening scene. Lines like that go too far into telling, leaving less and less for us to think about on our own.

Further, nothing in the film suggests that we have anything more than ourselves as resources to amend the situation.

Similarly, Lawrence Kasdan found some profound moments in the sprawling drama Grand Canyon. But his characters were prone to preachy, obvious dialogue and moments of sentiment that could only take place in a Hollywood movie. 13 Conversations about One Thing is a rewarding collection of short narratives characterized by strong performances and meditative examinations of ordinary relationships and ethical challenges. But, like Crash, the film was so burdened with purpose that it staggered under the weight of its own solemn purpose.

Other directors have demonstrated more restraint, letting us discover for ourselves what the story was about. And they’ve woven in enough humor and detail to make us believe in the world they bring to life.

I’ve discussed my favorite “God’s-eye view” movie, Code Unknown, elsewhere in this book. Here are two more films that offer profound journeys that encompass many different life experiences. As they introducing myriad characters for us to compare and contrast, they both give us profound reminders that small moments of love and grace can send shock waves through a whole community.

Playing in Gosford Park

Robert Altman, who died in late 2006, may be the most celebrated director of “God’s-eye” films. Most of his movies move us through a large community of characters. And he gave his actors a great deal of freedom to improvise and surprise him with their characters’ personalities. In doing so, he discovered ways to surprise us with inspired moments and unexpected avenues of connection between characters.

His maverick style has earned praise, and many credit him as a master of deconstructing conventional stories. But close examination of his whole repertoire reveals that his strongest films (arguably Nashville, The Player, Gosford Park, Short Cuts) are those in which the improvisation and experimentation wind like ivy around a iron frame, a concealed narrative so strong that even if his characters dance around it, you can see its outline, and that outline brings coherence and focus to a wild and glorious display.

Those that lack a strong central story (Ready to Wear, Dr. T and the Women, Cookie’s Fortune, A Prairie Home Companion) are still entertaining and comprised of memorable moments, but they may not be as rewarding when you revisit them.

2001′s Gosford Park is a classic period piece and one of Altman’s masterpieces. It guides us through a complicated, bygone world – a marvelous, labyrinthine, 1930s manor in the English countryside, the camera gliding ghost-like from room to room with such elaborate grace that it can make you gasp. And yet, it feels as though we’re observing this controlled chaos through tinted glass. The sensation is akin to looking at old oil paintings in a dark room. Altman paints with a palette of dark brown and gold, similar to Francis Ford Coppola’s Godfather films; the scenes resonate with the integrity of antique hardwood furniture, lacking the plastic sheen of contemporary films.

Screenwriter Julian Fellowes knows this world upstairs and downstairs. As he reveals in his enthralling DVD commentary, he grew up in it. Every word of his script contributes to a complex weave of storytelling that teaches us volumes about the class and culture of the period.

It sounds, in sketchy summary, like an Agatha Christie mystery, or a party game like Clue. Sir William McCordle (Michael Gambon), a wealthy aristrocrat, finds his manor filled with family and friends for a weekend of socializing and not-so-concealed verbal sparring.

His imperious wife, Lady Sylvia (Kristin Scott Thomas), is a vain and cruel woman who takes the credit for the phenomenal efforts put forth by her head cook Mrs. Croft (Eileen Atkins) and chief housekeeper Mrs. Wilson (Helen Mirren).

Those who hope to gain from his fortune include Constance (Harry Potter’s Maggie Smith), a pompous countess who engages in Herculean feats of condescension and snobbery. She seems to live for the sole purpose of nonchalantly gouging those about her with searing prejudice and contempt. In private, she dazzles her longsuffering maid, meek and mild young Mary Maceachran (Kelly MacDonald), with stories of family scandal. Maggie Smith has always been a fantastic actress, but here she finds a role to match the brilliance of her beloved turn as Charlotte in A Room with a View.

The film’s most hilarious moment comes when Constance cannot contain her glee over another’s humiliation.

Sylvia’s two sisters (Geraldine Somerville, Natasha Wightman) bring their husbands (Charles Dance and Tom Hollander), who are either sullenly obedient or hopeful to gain from the gathering. Sir William and Sylvia’s son Freddie Nesbitt has a sweet but vulnerable wife Mabel (Claudie Blakley) who is doomed to suffer because she’s upstairs but she can’t afford her own maid. Sir William and Sylvia’s daughter Isobel (Camilla Rutherford) has a face smudged with makeup and a life smudged with trouble. In fact, it’s clear that Sir William and Sylvia’s grown children have inherited their capacity for sexual recklessness.

Making this remarkable, miserable lot even more miserable are three “ugly American” houseguests – a famous American actor of the period Ivor Novello (Jeremy Northam) who makes his living by pretending to be British; a homosexual Hollywood film producer (Bob Balaban) whose brazen arrogance and ignorance is a hoot; and his vain “assistant” (Ryan Phillipe). These three bring their own distinctly American poison to the punch, the producer asking Norvello, “How do you put up with these people?”

The story emphasizes that they’re all addicted to William’s money, but it’s certainly not making them happy. The aristocrats are at least as unhappy as the servants, in spite of their excessive resources. And whenever weakness is exposed or a formality botched, it’s blood in the water, and teeth flash in the dim lamplight.

The servants live in a shadowy world beneath the house, bustling about to meet the preposterous needs of their “superiors,” and getting very little thanks for it. ”I’m the perfect servant,” one of them boasts. “I have no life.” They find their pleasures in fleeting escapes, sexual liaisons, and moments when they can pause and daydream while music from the upper levels filters through almost-closed doors and down the dusty stairwells. One moment like this achieves a painterly quality, as the faint light falls upon one servant’s face who seems caught up in a sort of religious ecstasy.

Each and every character is interesting enough to carry a story all their own. Among the servants, we wouldn’t think twice if the story suddenly focused on Jennings the head manservant (Alan Bates), George the footman (Richard E. Grant), or the valets (Derek Jacobi, Clive Owen).

But ultimately, it is Mary, Constance’s maid, whose childlike eyes give us the fullest perspective on these proceedings. As the outsider, she wins our sympathy, responding with the quiet bewilderment and horror that we feel as we watch this circus of cruel and unusual punishments. Since Constance is versed only in manners and how to break them, it is up to another housemaid, the thick-skinned but tender-hearted Elsie (Emily Watson), to teach her. And the more we attend to Elsie’s teaching, the more we see that her heart is a large and battlescarred territory. By the end of the film, while we see through Mary’s eyes, it is Elsie whose patience breaks our heart.

You’ll note I didn’t even get to Dorothy, whose bravery I mentioned in Chapter Six. This place is full of characters capable of demonstrating both virtue and venom. What we come away understanding is that the world is not a place of good folks and bad folks, but of currents of love and hate, through which we clumsily splash. Those seeking their own advantage turns into beasts. Those who muster the strength to show mercy and care give up their worldly advantage and become fools… saints.

We also learn that even the stoniest hearts might conceal deep, deep love. In fact, sometimes that tough exterior was formed out of necessity, to protect one’s broken heart from the harsh conditions outside. At the conclusion of the film, when the mystery is finally solved – don’t worry, the solution is too complex for me to spoil – it doesn’t just resolve the story, but breaks open a concealed drama that many won’t see coming.

It’s the kind of conclusion that demands we revisit the film a second time, to observe theses events with the benefit of the secrets we have learned. That second viewing, and a third, becomes a process of peeling back one layer after another, until we see just how lost and lovely these human beings truly are.

The film has been condemned by some Christians because it ends on a cynical note, as the young innocent takes her first step toward a life of moral compromise and situational ethics. But what burns brighter and brighter with each viewing is the beauty of those moments when someone sticks to their conviction and acts out of selfless love, no matter what the consequences. Love is a costly choice, but it cuts through the class barriers, the divisions between servant and master, man and woman, contemptuous elders and disillusioned youngsters.

A second viewing also helps us catch the conversations, and a dozen other storylines, that we missed the first time – Gosford Park demands a good sound system because all of the characters seem to be talking at once. There are so many people dancing through these corridors that it’s just a matter of time before a bunch of them collide and go crashing from the lavish bedrooms to the mouse droppings in the pantry. And when the proud fall, and the humble rise, it’s a beautiful thing to behold.

Yi Yi Shows Us the Backs of Our Heads

Grandma’s in a coma.

Mom’s having a mid-life crisis.

Dad’s pondering the possibility of an affair, even as his co-workers coax him toward a questionable business deal.

Big sister is thinking about sleeping with her best-friend’s boyfriend.

What’s an eight-year-old boy to do?

The Jian family form a small solar system in the vast galaxy of lives in director Edward Yang’s Taipei drama Yi-Yi (A One and a Two.) The film, which won Yang a best director award at Cannes, Best Foreign Film of 2000 by the New York Critics Circle, and Best Film by the National Society of Film Critics, is still relatively unknown to the average American moviegoer. And, year after year, Hollywood celebrates family dramas that pale by comparison to this rich, mysterious, funny, heartbreaking web of stories.

Each character in the film plays their own sad, searching solo. Perhaps that is why Yang named it Yi Yi, which translates as “one one.” Even when these characters pair up, they remain solitary souls in need of intimacy and understanding. Each couple plays a countermelody to the other, achieving exquisite moments of dissonance and harmony across generations. Together, they’re as disconnected as their sour-faced wedding and funeral photographs imply. And yet, when you think back on them, these varying melodies seem to fuse into a simultaneous, harmonious roar.

The Jian family lives, like the characters in Kieslowski’s Decalogue, in a massive high-rise full of isolated lives, vacuum-sealed troubles. Over the course of the film, we’ll watch them drawn toward others’ lives in hopes of making meaningful connections. But again and again, this will expose their betrayals and neglect of the relationships they already have.

And, once again, the one who can lead them is a child.

* * *

Yang-Yang, the eight-year old, is played by Jonathan Chang in one of the most charming performances by a child I have ever seen. Yang-Yang wanders through the family dramas wide-eyed. His endearing curiosity sets him part from everyone else. Sitting quietly in the car with his father, he’s like Damiel the angel in Wings of Desire, consumed by the mystery of his existence. In great distress, he quietly asks his father, “How can I know what you see?” and there is such innocence, longing, and humility in the question that it breaks your heart.

While everyone is intensely focused upon their own problems and desires, he sees a larger picture, and becomes intrigued by the pieces that others don’t see. Given a camera, he starts taking odd, seemingly arbitrary photographs, claiming that he’s shooting “mosquitos.” This evolves into a preoccupation with photographing the backs of people’s heads – the parts of their world that they never see, that they forget, that they might never know is there if someone else doesn’t show them. Like many great artists, he’s intent on one thing, but his pictures reveal more than he knows.

Yang-Yang’s curiosity is so healthy, it seems nonsensical and even threatening to those who are proud and self-absorbed. When the schoolteacher discovers Yang-Yang’s remarkable photographs, he rashly condemns them as useless and ridicules the boy.

And thus, the film’s director becomes, like little Yang-Yang, someone who shows us what no one else can see. Each scene is like another snapshot of people caught in revealing behavior.

There are many memorably poetic images. But once in a while, an artist happens upon a moment he couldn’t have choreographed, and you wonder just who he might have inadvertently gained as a collaborator.

One of these moments in Yi-Yi stands out to me. Yang-Yang’s mother, the daughter of the comatose grandmother, Min-Min, is a career woman who suffers a breakdown at work – part mid-life crisis, part spiritual despair. She stands at the window of an office in a high tower at night, and she turns out the light so she can stare into the vast constellations of moving cars on the interweaving network of freeways. We can see her silhouetted in the window, and the river of tiny lights winds through her body, a pulsing red light of an emergency vehicle throbbing where her heart should be – one of those happy accidents that seem to bless artists of superior vision. It’s a moment of such potent poetry that it can give you chills when you see it. (The moment is echoed in Sofia Coppola’s Lost in Translation to similar effect.)

Thus, the call of the film is specifically this – look closer. Look deeper. Do not turn away from what has been given to you and decide that it is insufficient or wrong. Be patient. Turn it in your hands and consider it from other angles. Look at things through different eyes. While out on their date, Ting-Ting listens adoringly to her boyfriend, who is enthusiastic about the power of cinema. “Movies are lifelike,” he explains. “That is why we like them.” And he goes on to describe that movies compress life into such fierce, concentrated revelation that we walk away having lived life more than once.

And Yi-Yi proves it, offering us many lives, and a world of truth and discovery. It overwhelms me.

The more you look, the more sadness you discover, and the more possibility for growth you find. These characters seem compelled to pursue happiness along the wrong paths. Desiring pleasures that seem “even better than the real thing,” they slide down the surface of things and fail to ever make a connection.

* * *

The central event of Yi Yi is the collapse of Yang-Yang’s grandmother into a coma on the night of his uncle’s wedding. The old woman is deeply distressed by the wedding, since the groom, Ah-Di (Hsi-Sheng Chen), is marrying a woman he has already made pregnant. In her perspective, this is a humiliation to the family. (It’s also a humiliation to Ah-Di’s ex, who shows up to the wedding drunk and furious.)

Thus, the doctor orders the Jians to take turns talking to the comatose woman in order to try and lure her back to the land of the living. Their obligatory monologues quickly turn from uncomfortable rambling to heartfelt confessions that reveal what they’ve been hiding from everyone else.

It’s remarkable just how powerfully spiritual the experience is, even though few of the characters address spiritual matters.

One by one, they begin their vigils. Each comforter talks to her in soul-searching confessions and questions. She becomes the common element, the unifier, like the song in Magnolia, or the mysterious stranger in The Decalogue. In these scenes, it becomes clear that these people are normal, marvelous, broken individuals seeking forgiveness, wisdom, love, and grace. Grandmother just lies there, perhaps listening, perhaps absent . . . provoking in her visitors the same doubts that every honest man or woman encounters at some point during prayer.

Min-Min weeps to her husband, “I have nothing to say to Mother. I tell her the same things every day. I have so little. How can it be so little? I live a blank.” N.J. observes that talking to a comatose person is not unlike prayer-you’re not sure someone’s listening, and you’re not sure you mean what you say.

Ah-Di boasts in his financial success, but he eventually implodes into his heart’s vacuous core. After celebrating his wedding in the opening scenes, he quickly finds himself in bed with his former lover, and there is no passion there either. He ends up watching pornography, and it’s clear that he’s done this a thousand times before – it has no more effect on him than an infomercial. In his irresponsibility and self-centeredness, he has let anything that could possibly be meaningful shrivel up into nothing. He’s a dead soul.

Yang-Yang resists addressing his grandmother until the film’s culminating moments, and then we wonder if he’s been holding back because it has taken him days to find words that express the enormity of his pained questions.

It would take pages to chronicle all of the similar stories of unfulfillmed lives, weaving in and out. But it’s most important to note the film’s central character – N.J. (Nien-Jen Wu, a formidable filmmaker and screenwriter in his own right.)

N.J. is a businessman fighting to maintain his integrity in the midst of his coworkers’ dishonest business practices, and wrestling with regrets about an old flame. And when Sherry (Ke Suyun), his former girlfriend, shows up from her married life in America, and berates him for having walked away from a potential rendezvous, the door swings wide open for him to have an affair. He hesitates on the threshold, and the whole movie seems to teeter on the brink of disaster.

At the same time, in a mirroring that resembles Krzysztof Kieslowski’s technique for having one storyline mimic another, N.J.’s daughter Ting-Ting opens the door to a sexual liaison with her best friend’s boyfriend. For weeks, her loneliness has been accentuated by the way she’s told to carry messages back and forth during a falling out between another couple. Eventually, while she’s handing over folded messages, she’s sending some messages of her own. This isn’t motivated by wickedness and betrayal. It’s an act of desperation and desire, a painful gesture that turns even more painful when you see what happens as a result of it.

Their pain is all the more palpable in contrast to the one spiritually enlightened character who walks into the fray.

* * *

N.J. works for a troubled computer company whose coworkers seem content to produce bad imitations of truly innovative programs. This doesn’t sit well with N.J.’s conscience. He doesn’t want to settle for a flashy imitation. He wants the real thing, and that goes for his life decisions as well.

Hope is personified by a most unlikely outsider – Mr. Ota (the great Issey Ogata, star of Tony Takitani), a successful game designer whom N.J. seeks to lure into a business agreement.

Like Yang-Yang, whose work is his play, whose play is his work, Ota does not distinguish between business and pleasure-he works as he lives, with passion, curiosity, and enthusiasm. While they’re supposed to be discussing business, N.J. falls into a sort of jealous awe for Ota’s way of seeing the world. Just as Yang-Yang wants to understand how his father sees the world, N.J. wants nothing more than to see how the world looks to an adult who walks through the world enthralled with a sort of childlike glee. They end up discussing life, the universe, and everything. N.J. envies Ota’s joie de vivre and love of of art, which seems so impractical, so contrary to the rat race and family politics of N.J.’s existence.

Ota turns out to be the film’s most surprising and fascinating character, a Japanese businessman more interested in integrity than business. Like Peter Falk guiding the detached Damiel into renewed wonder, Ota saves N.J. from his malaise and reminds him of the meaning of life. He’s like the the ghost of Christmas past, present, and future… revealing what could have happened, what’s missing, what yet might be, merely by manifesting all that is missing. And while Ota’s weakness is a “seize the day” philosophy that would coax N.J. to indulge in an extramarital affair, N.J.’s hunger for authenticity rather than cheap imitation may be what saves him in the end.

In one moment, Mr. Ota stands in the light of a window and suddenly reveals an affinity with birds that makes me think of St. Francis of Assissi, a saint whose kinship with creation set him apart as an example to us all.

* * *

Some Christian viewers will probably steer clear of Yi Yi if they hear that one of the characters turns to a Buddhist guru for spiritual guidance, or that there is a suggestion of a character’s appearance from beyond the grave.

But these inclusions make sense, considering Yang’s cultural background, and we can see in them flickers of the truth – that we can restore our perspective by getting away from the busyness of our lives and meditating, just as Christ did; and that even when our loved ones have passed from this life, their lives continue to influence our own.

Furthermore, it is worth noting that Min-Min’s time on the mountain with the guru does not ultimately satisfy her. She is looking for satisfaction from a religious teacher, while she misses out on the love available to her in her own home.

But the thing that impresses me most about Yang’s storytelling is his relentless compassion for these characters. He looks so intently at each of them that we’re never given a scapegoat. No one can be held primarily responsible for the troubles in this world. They’re all guilty, and they’re all capable of offering grace. Whether he knows it or not, this perspective is powerfully “Christian” in nature.

And he concludes allowing one of these characters to call out in a lament for all that is broken, in hopes that someone is listening beyond the grave, voicing answering that call from beyond the grave. We long for connection, and none of the connections we find on this earth is enough to satisfy. What are we longing for?

* * *

When such a small family can reveal to us a web of stories this complex, this revealing, it’s almost too much for a viewer to take in.

We feel the weight of the burdens that the children carry, so we want to shout at the screen when Min-Min returns home and asks her husband about the kids. He replies, “Nothing’s changed here. The kids are both fine.” Are these parents blind?

It’s enough to make us wonder what the world must look like to its creator, who sees us all – the pieces we understand, the things we choose to deny, and the pieces we miss entirely. No wonder his heart breaks. How vast his love must be, to commit himself to us in spite of so much blindness and foolishness.

It is nothing short of wondrous to me that I would come to encounter God’s view of the world so profoundly through the work of a non-Christian artist. Jonathan Rosenbaum compares Yang’s work to his favorite artists. And he says, “[Those great artists would] likely recognize a filmmaker who thinks that the highest ambition he can aspire to is to be absolutely clear-eyed about the people he puts in front of his camera, and still love them.”

What could be more “Christian” than that – learning to intimately love everyone we can see?

I’m hearing from other cinephiles that Yang’s previous film, A Brighter Summer Day, might be even better. I can’t wait to see it.

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Through a Screen Darkly – Bonus Materials

Friday, November 28th, 2008

Welcome to all who have picked up a copy of Through a Screen Darkly!

Thank you for reading the book, and thanks for taking the time to explore further.

This page offers a menu of “bonus material,” just like the special features on a DVD that you enjoy when you’re done watching the movie.

These sections are meant to enhance your experience of the book, and lead you to many more moviegoing adventures.

If at any time you have questions, I’ll be watching for them at joverstreet@gmail.com.

Let’s talk about movies.

ADDITIONAL RESOURCES

Three bonus chapters of Through a Screen Darkly:

ADDITIONAL RESOURCES

a chapter-by-chapter guide to further commentary, film reviews, and interviews with filmmakers and actors related to films referenced in this book;
a collection of questions to help film discussion groups explore the movies they watch together;
frequently updated versions of the film recommendation lists included in the book;

PLUS:

recommended line-ups for film festivals, categorized by theme! (COMING SOON!)
a list of books for further reading on the intersection of faith and art – periodically updated;
recommended film review resources – periodically updated. (COMING SOON!)

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Througha Screen Darkly – bonus chapter – The Greatest Story Ever Told By Accident

Friday, November 28th, 2008

Through a Screen Darkly

bonus chapter:

The Greatest Story Ever Told By Accident

A consideration of Pan’s Labyrinth, Children of Men, and Babel

Encountering Christ While Running From Him

Those who meditate on the character of Christ will be surprised to find him everywhere … even in movies that seem at first to have nothing to do with the Gospel.

In fact, those who try to run from him might find him smiling at them wherever they turn… even in the details of their own storytelling.

* * *

In 2006, three filmmakers from Mexico delivered three award-winning, astonishing films to theaters.

Guillermo Del Toro offered Pan’s Labyrinth – a dark, violent fantasy film about the Spanish Civil War, and a frightened girl who escapes into a wonderland ruled by a faun.

Alfonso Cuaron directed Children of Men – a futuristic adventure in which humanity is becoming extinct due to a plague of infertility.

And Alejandro González Iñárritu gave us a candidate for Best Picture at the Oscars, a film called Babel. Babel told several stories set in different countries, in which family relationships were challenged in various, bloody ways.

All three films have earned worldwide acclaim for their technical achievement, performances, and compelling storytelling. But I doubt that you’ll find many people discussing glimpses of the gospel in these films.

In fact, the directors went out of their way to make sure these stories weren’t about Jesus.

* * *

Guillermo Del Toro made Pan’s Labyrinth after turning down the opportunity to direct The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. As CNN reported, “[H]e turned it down because, as a lapsed Catholic, he couldn’t see himself bringing Aslan the lion back to life.” Then they quoted Del Toro as saying, “I’m not proselytizing anything about a lion resurrecting. I’m not trying to sell you into a point. I’m just doing a little parable about disobedience and choice. . . . This is my version of that universe….”

“Profound,” critics are saying about this film. “Beautiful.” “Moving.” But what is it about the film that they are finding so transcendent? Is it merely a tale about disobedience and choice, as its director says?

Hardly. Del Toro’s “version of that universe is resonant with gospel echoes.

As we watch young Ofelia, traumatized by the war, running pell-mell through the dark woods of Pan’s Labyrinth, her story reminds me of the Christian life. As she struggles against darkness, unable to save the world on her own, yearning for redemption, she finds meaningful resources in the stuff of creation, and she is haunted by a sense that she belongs to a heavenly kingdom . . . a place beyond this world, and better.

Her fascist stepfather is like the devil himself, a dictator who follows a dictator and who manipulates others for his own selfish gain. Like the “prince” of this world, he just wants a son, an innocent that he can bend to carry his legacy farther. Ofelia is useless to him, an obstacle, unless he can bring her up to fear him the way other women do.

And while this fascist soldier seems to have the church on his side (the Catholic church had ill-advised connections with the fascists in that war), it should be clear to viewers that the glimmers of Christ-like love come from somewhere else in this story. Some of them come from a most unlikely character . . . a faun, a figure from pagan mythology, who tries to trick Ofelia and whispers to her that the fairy tales she imagines are actually real.

As J.R.R. Tolkien insisted, fairy tales are especially poignant because their make-believe gives us a language to express spiritual mysteries that are otherwise hard to describe. Fantasy, he said, points to a coming universal triumph of good over evil, of joy over suffering. It inspires “a catch of the breath, a beat and lifting of the heart, near to (or indeed accompanied by) tears,” for through its fanciful metaphors, it gives readers “a piercing glimpse of joy, and heart’s desire, that for a moment passes outside the frame, rends indeed the very web of story, and lets a gleam come through.” The relevance of the fairy story to reality lies in this gleam, which is a “sudden glimpse of the underlying reality of truth.”1 (These ideas are also explored in Chapter Five.)

Pan’s Labyrinth gives us a heroine who looks around the “real world” and sees horror, bloodshed, obscenity, and cruelty. She leaps into a fairy tale world, where she is given tasks that help her find a way to participate in the struggle against darkness. She is given strict rules to follow, and, like Frodo in The Lord of the Rings, she fails . . . as we all do. She gives in to temptation, and disobeys.

We feel her pain, for we know that we too have failed, and something precious has been lost – innocence.

But then, suddenly, Ofelia is given another chance. She is given grace – an undeserved opportunity to find redemption in spite of her sins. And she seizes it. While this conflicts somewhat with the gospel, in which we are granted eternal life without having to accomplish any particular mission, the inclusion of this undeserved “second chance” is a big part of the story’s appeal, I suspect. It “rings true.”

Ofelia makes a bold choice to spill her own blood to save the life of an innocent, rather than giving up a newborn infant to be sacrificed. As we see her bleeding to death in the real world, people gather around her and weep at the injustice, the slaying of such a brave soul. What they do not see, but what Christians will recognize as the hope of heaven, is Ofelia awaking in the presence of glory to receive her true reward.

And yet, some Christians are rushing to condemn the film as mere “paganism.” They do not see that even pagan fairy tales, for all of their distortions of the truth, end up affirming pieces of the gospel. Without that, they would be empty and fail to strike chords in our hearts.

It is easy to forget that Del Toro, earlier in the film, gave us a parable about a magical rose. This rose could save the world. But humankind rejected the rose, for it was surrounded with thorns and was difficult to find. They chose to abandon the rose in order to avoid suffering. And thus they missed out on the greatest gift of all.

Echoes of the Gospel . . . everywhere.

Regarding the rumors of eternal glory that glimmer through The Lord of the Rings, the actor Ian McKellen is wrong when he concludes, “I think what [Tolkien] is appealing to in human beings is to look inside yourself, and to look to your friends . . . . ” No. All through Tolkien’s epic there are hints of a higher power at work that can save us from our insufficiency. When we look inside of ourselves and our neighbors, we will find “eternity set in our hearts.” It tells us that we serve a higher power, and he has sacrificed his own son to save us from death.

In the very same way, Pan’s Labyrinth is not just about making a brave choice and saving your friends by putting your life on the line. What moves audiences most is the moment when Ofelia awakes, having returned home to the magical kingdom that was rumored to be her origin. She has passed through death into a new, vivid, heavenly life. She is welcomed home to her true family. And she receives the equivalent of “Well done, my good and faithful servant.”

There is a bittersweet quality to Pan’s Labyrinth, because Del Toro does not make it clear whether Ofelia is entering into a heaven of her own imagination, when in fact she’s dead as a doornail, or if she is indeed returning home. Viewers will feel a surge of longing, but they may decide that this longing that dwells in each of us is just “wishful thinking.” Others may recognize that there is no explanation for this common longing in all of us if redemption is not, in some form, a reality.

While the filmmaker has done what he could to avoid a Christian allegory, by smashing the mirror of the truth, his fairy tale still reflects pieces of the gospel in its shards.

Those who know Christ intimately will recognize him everywhere, lurking in disguise, like the stranger who walked on the road to Emmaeus and who talked with the two travelers as they mourned the absence of Christ. When he sat down to eat with them, they recognized him – for they had eaten with him before.

Have we nourished ourselves with the presence of Christ enough to recognize him when he manifests himself? Will we trust that he can be found, even in the best efforts of those who do not believe? Or will we instead rush to judgment of seemingly “non-Christian” storytelling.

* * *

In Children of Men, Alfonso Cuaron’s magnificent, powerful, spellbinding nightmare of a world spinning out of control, the director and his four co-writers – Timothy J. Sexton, David Arata, Mark Fergus, Hawk Ostby – have done everything they can to erase the echoes of Christian conviction that fill their source material, a novel by P.D. James.

When Theo, a disillusioned political activist reluctantly agrees to help a faction of violent activists, he has no idea what he’s getting into. They seem crazy, but when they reveal that they have the world’s first pregnant woman in almost 20 years in their custody, he realizes what is at stake. And he ends up escorting this young woman, whose name is (appropriately) Kee, through a war-torn landscape in search of safety, so she can have the baby theat the world needs so much.

Cuaron and his colleagues erase P.D. James’ respectful, thoughtful portrayals of Christians and turn them into ranting, raving New Agers, cult maniacs, terrorists, and lunatics. Their heroes are, instead, merely determined humanists. Those heroes strive to save the world on their own strength, and the strength of “the next generation.” Instead of turning to God, they place their hope for the future in something called “The Human Project,” which will help humanity overcome the plague of infertility.

I sat down with Cuaron to discuss the film, and I asked him about the Christian overtones of James’ novel. Was he trying to suggest that we should not place hope in God? Had he deliberately sought to remove God from the equation?

He responded, “It’s not that God is out of the equation, but I think it’s too much to ask God to fix all of this mess we’re in. That’s the wrong sort of hope. That hope is very dangerous. I mean … that poor guy!” He laughed, looking up, I suppose, at God, with an expression of sympathy and exasperation. “So now he’s going to come and fix this mess? My view of God is that he is not necessarily ‘the Super’ … you know … where, if the boiler broke in your apartment, then God comes and fixes it for you. No. We are responsible for our apartment building. … No, he’s not going to come and fix the boiler, I’m sorry.”

It’s not hard to see why Cuaron wants to emphasize the importance of human involvement in the salvation of the world. After all, God did command us to “subdue and replenish the earth.” But it’s hard to justify the claim that the film is “based on” P.D. James’ novel when they have done all they can to change the fundamental ideas of the source material to match their own skeptical, dispiriting worldview.

And yet…

As the world is crumbling, a disillusioned young man finds an inexplicably pregnant young woman. They share a moment of powerful understanding and astonishment while standing in a barn… or, if you will, a stable.

Sound familiar?

They run from the powers that be, powers that would seek to subvert their mission. And their mission is to bring this precious child into the world. For this child represents the hope of humanity.

And they are blessed by wise men.

And in the end, while this “Joseph” and “Mary” are sure to eventually die, they can hold on to hope that something transcendent has happened here.

Again, echoes of the Gospel, everywhere we turn.

* * *

And Babel? Where is God in Alejandro González Iñárritu’s stories of human depravity, grief, and broken families?

I am moved by the way each story emphasizes that we must overcome our pride and self-absorption in order to understand and love our neighbors. But even more important than that, there are glimpses of the Virgin Mary and the Cross in the Catholic iconography behind scenes set in Mexico. These bring a saddening irony to the scenes, as human beings lose their way and fumble for help, never thinking to turn to God.

In one scene, set in Morocco, while a devastated American panics at the side of his dying wife, he sees a Muslim man turn to pray that God will help this suffering stranger. The American seems startled, confounded by what he sees. We don’t know what’s going on in his head, but it’s hard not to wonder if he might be thinking about prayer himself. Maybe there’s something to this, this instinctual appeal to heaven practiced by this Muslim who follows “old world” ways.

And in one of the film’s most affecting moments, a child is willing to risk his life to save an endangered family member.

Iñárritu told me that he believes all people, from all cultures, share a “spiritual spine” . . . a remnant of what unites us, a cord connecting us with something greater. He did not give me a name for that “spine,” nor did he identify a “source” from which we come. But he chose the title of his film very deliberately. The Old Testament tale of the Tower of Babel teaches that humankind scattered, their language confused, their cultures divided, because they were so proud as to turn their eyes away from God.

And the film’s only answer for the trouble of the world comes when people stop acting as if they are gods and humble themselves to serve one another the way that Christ served the church.

* * *

These three filmmakers from Mexico are, in fact, good friends. And as the Oscars for 2006 approached, there were articles everywhere about “the Three Amigos” who had invigorated Spanish-language filmmaking.

But they are also united in the way that their films so boldly, clearly, and yes – accidentally – reaffirm things that Jesus taught and demonstrated.

As we learn to know Christ, we can recognize his face, his character, his choices, his teachings, reaffirmed again and again on the screen. And we’ll come to recognize him everywhere – not just in films by “the Three Amigos,” but even in a movie that is called The Three Amigos.

After all, that ridiculous comedy starring Steve Martin, Martin Short, and Chevy Chase tells the story of a people who needed salvation from a devilish oppressor. When the three amigos rode into town, they found that the people believed in an idealized “three amigos” – heroic, humble, generous redeemers from another culture who would save them from evil. And so, they have to put aside their ego and selfishness and become true selfless saviors. Like Christians, who know they are unworthy to work in the name of Christ, so these three goofballs learn that true glory comes from serving somebody else.

Am I taking this too far?

Perhaps. Certainly there are richer works of art than flimsy Hollywood comedies. But it should encourage us to see that – whether it’s a heavy international drama like Babel, or a cheap laugh-fest like The Three Amigos – the stories stick with us because they have a handle on the truth.

And speaking of Babel, there are more and more movies all the time that give us a “God’s-eye” view of the world. It seems many filmmakers are rising to the challenge, hoping to show us the whole wide world. Let’s consider, now, a few of those films.

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This reflection on the work of Steve Taylor was originally intended as part of the chapter on comedy in Through a Screen Darkly.

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