First, a preview…

HD here.
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It’s the most joyous time of the year.

Yes, I’m talking about Oscar season.

(more…)

Potter fans, are you excited about the new movie?

Here’s the trailer.

Normally, I wouldn’t have been very enthusiastic, but in the recent wave of mediocre-to-bad fantasy pics, this suddenly looks like great fun.

Well, I’ve run out of time to deliver the review of Twilight I’d hoped to write this weekend. Too busy working on the third book of The Auralia Thread, and we had our Thanksgiving dinner a week early, thanks to a visit from my parents.

But that’s okay, because I’ve got something much better for you than my disgruntled perspective on the film. The best thing I’ve read on the appeal of Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight is Laura Miller’s article in Salon. It is a brilliant interpretation and diagnosis. And very well written.

Read all two pages of it here. It makes a lot of sense. And it’s kind of scary.

Scarier than the movie, anyway.

Perhaps the best thing about the release of the movie Twilight is that the Internet is already abundant with Twilight-related comedy.

One of the most amusing exhibits so far: A slideshow of 28 Reasons That Twilight the Movie is Better Than the Book.

Perhaps the best thing about the release of the movie Twilight is that the Internet is already abundant with Twilight-related comedy.

One of the most amusing exhibits so far: A slideshow of 28 Reasons That Twilight the Movie is Better Than the Book.

Meanwhile, Jeffrey Wells writes:
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UPDATE: An alternate script for Twilight.

Yes, I’ve seen Twilight.

(more…)

UPDATED: The trailer is now officially posted. Here’s the real thing.

I’ve never been much of a Star Trek fan.

That may be about to change.

HD here.

Ed Solomon’s directorial debut-Levity-offers little of just that. This might surprise moviegoers eager for the latest from the writer of Men in Black. Fittingly, the title refers to what’s missing from the lives of its burdened characters.

Solomon is a moviemaker with a lot on his mind, including forgiveness, faith, friendship, and the way we run from self-realization and dodge the consequences for our sins. These themes needed richer soil than his previous scripts for Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure and Charlie’s Angels.

I had the privilege of meeting and talking with Solomon during a brief stay in Seattle where he was promoting the film. He was remarkably soft-spoken and humble, clearly glad to have a conversation instead of trying to pitch his movie. Here are some of the things we talked about.

(My review of the film Levity can be found here.)

Jeffrey Overstreet:
I would think that after working so hard on mainstream comedies–Men in Black, Charlie’s Angels, the Bill and Ted movies–it would be quite a change for you to work in such a ponderous dramatic mode as you do in Levity.

Ed Solomon:
Everyone is complex… just by being a person. I think it would be very hard to only work from one angle, on a personal level, but on a professional level it’s really tempting to always try to work where you’re comfortable, or where you’re reinforced professionally to work… either by people who hire people who go see the movies. It’s tempting to really to work where you feel safe. But I feel that, creatively, it’s kind of deadening.

Especially when you get older, and I guess I’m getting older. I’m 42 now. I see a lot of my friends say, “I’m in my 40s now, so I’m gonna cash in. I’m gonna do what comes easier. I’ve worked hard enough.” I feel the opposite. I’m getting older, and in order to keep growing, I’m going to push myself.

I don’t believe in the “Write What You Know” thing. I think you write what’s true for you or intriguing for you or what you feel. What you “know” is, I think, wrong.

I have a lot of confusion about issues… like spiritual ones. I’m not coming to this film from a place of knowledge. I’m not trying to present a religious point of view. I was trying to really explore questions. I think we all have different stories in us at different times of our life. To me, it’s really important to follow something that’s more creatively challenging or pressing to me than to just constantly fall back on what you know. I love comedy, but I’m just trying to keep pushing myself.

JO:
I would think after writing comedy so long, you would start collecting and building up things that don’t fit in a comedy, or ideas that you couldn’t really explore thoroughly in comedy. And I got the feeling from Levity that you were letting out a lot of ideas that had built up.

ES:
It’s true. Things stay with you and they well up… these creative or emotional assets that have been building up over time, things you forget about. They surface again.

JO:
Is this a story you developed over a long period of time?

ES:
I was a tutor in a prison for teenagers when I was in college. I met this kid who had killed somebody and had been tried as an adult and sentenced to life in prison. And he kept a photograph of the person he had killed. The judge had told him to keep this and have it, and the judge also made him hold things of the boy…grapple with them… hold his clothes…I remember him saying “I had to hold his football.”

He was staring at this picture, he would put it in his pocket, take it out, look at it, put it away, take it out again, open it. He would stare at it like he didn’t know it was a human being, like he was trying to take this two-dimensional image and have it become three dimensional. And then he was gone; he turned 18 and he went to the state prison.

[Solomon pauses, staring intently into his memories.]

It’s funny. I was just thinking: What ever happened to him? I don’t know. I don’t know if he’s out of jail. He was sentenced to life, but that was 25 years ago, so who knows?

That kind of haunted me.  And then in my mid-20s the idea of the movie came around. It was a different take on it. A lighter take. Morgan Freeman’s character was taking Billy Bob’s character and trying to help him take charge of these kids who were trying to be comedians. I could never get it to feel right. 30 or 40 pages in, I quit and I tried it again. I held it out saying “One day I’m going to get this right.” I almost gave up. Finally I said, “I’m just going to do this. I’m just going to get it right.”

JO:
There are clearly echoes of that experience in the character of Manual, in his “grappling” with the crime he committed as a teenager. He grapples with the reality that there had been a human being on the other end of that gun.

I like what you say about asking questions through your storytelling. I think the movies that last and that really mean things to people are often those where the artist doesn’t have a pulpit and a message. Instead he doesn’t really know what’s going to happen. He’s exploring, and bringing the audience along with him. And I really felt that sense of uncertainty, of questioning in Levity. It kept throwing me curves.

Was there a preacher or a minister that inspired Evans, the character played by Freeman?

ES:
No, this was the first time I wrote a character with an actor in mind. It came out of how I heard Morgan and felt his presence. He rejected the character the way I initially conceived it. It was my perception of what he could do rather than what he could do or wanted to do as an artist.

I contacted this Christian guy [I know]… Jim… and faith is a big part of his life. He worked with kids in South Central L.A., kids trying to get out of violence and really turn their lives around. Jim introduced me to a couple of people who had committed crimes, and I talked to some of them. He wasn’t a preacher, but he really inspired me in some ways.

There wasn’t a pastor, per se. It was more of a voice, a kind of counterweight… I always saw Manual’s character as constantly looking at himself and obsessing over the minutiae and details of what he had done, and in so doing he’s terrified of what he is capable of. I called him ‘Manual’ because of what he is capable of -Manual means “by hand.” I didn’t mean to use “Emanuel”, to give it any kind of religious connotation.

[He pauses and smiles.]

But then again… I did call him Manual Jordan… didn’t I? 

JO:
That is rather loaded!

ES:
I was thinking of the river, yes. But I called him Manual because by his hands he removed himself from the flow of the human race. He looks at himself. But I was drawn to the character of Evans (Morgan Freeman) because he preaches with such fervency but he doesn’t believe what he is saying.

JO:
In a sense, Evans is a good actor.

ES:
Exactly. And with them, I wanted to raise questions:

One-Can you make up for one so-called bad act with any number of so-called good acts?

And two-Are you what you say you are, or are you what you think you are, or are you what you do? Or is that even answerable?

I was intrigued by the idea that people can go out of their way to help other people but they can never help themselves. Other people just help themselves and never help anyone else.

To me, Morgan’s character never helps himself. I told Morgan that I imagined his character to be a guy who’s always being followed by rising waters, and it’s only a matter of time before the floods come. So he is desperate to have value in this life, he grabs whoever he can and puts them up on higher ground and then runs before the water comes. I don’t think Morgan’s character is a preacher; he’s just going to act as one, and in the next part of his life he’s going to be someone else. But I always thought because Evans won’t look at himself, he’s destined to run, constantly. Manual (Billy Bob) is constantly looking at himself.

When Evans says, “You know where you are. You know exactly where you are!”, Morgan is playing that scene such that he’s talking to himself. The line “I’m lying through my teeth.” … that’s one of the two times in the movie that Evans is telling the truth, the other being when he tells Manual at the end who he is. There’s a reason he’s awake 20 hours a day; it’s desperation. There’s this frantic need to try to do anything he can to feel like he’s saving himself when the only thing he’s not doing is looking at who he is truly. He’s running.

Everything that I’m saying… I’m not a Christian. I’m not a practicing Jew, although I was born Jewish. I’m a struggling agnostic. I’m not an atheist-you have to have a pretty strong conviction to be an atheist. But I’m not coming at this from a Christian perspective. When I look at Morgan as trying to save himself, I’m not trying to talk about that in any kind of Judeo-Christian way, although there are parallels for sure. It was not me consciously trying to make a religious parallel.

Some members of the secular press have just attacked me for trying to make a “Christian film.” Initially, I was mad. I asked, “Why? How do you get that from this?” And then I was amused. “Oh, okay, I guess everyone has a right to read in what they want.” And then I started thinking about it and I thought, “Well, what’s wrong with that anyway? What if I was? Why not?”

JO:
What you’re describing seems to demonstrate what a lot of great writers about being ‘in the zone’, in a sense. They know they’re doing good work when the story takes over and starts telling truths they don’t expect. That’s when they realize they’re not telling this story on their own. They’ve tapped into some level of truth that leaves them in awe and connects them to things they’ll never completely understand.

You say you’re not coming at this from a Christian perspective. That may be true. But many of the people most actively searching for God or most aggressively and passionately wrestling with spiritual issues are those who are constantly being humbled by the truth and constantly admitting that it leaves them with questions. All through Scripture, when people have profound encounters with God, it leaves them full of sobering questions. I think of Job crying out to meet God and when he did, it was disorienting.

That’s one of the strengths of exploratory storytellers, the thing you’re doing with Levity. We know you’re in trouble, even in the Church, when the people you’re around… Christian or otherwise… start acting like they have all the answers to all of the big questions, and that it’s their job to force their answers on you. In that behavior, they have turned away from the humbling, awe-inspiring vision of the truth… they’ve cut themselves off and appointed themselves the end-all and be-all of truth. They’re just trying to make a point.

ES:
You’re right. And when you behave that way, you don’t even necessarily make the point. You just give people the impression that you do.

JO:
Will you come back to this theme again?

ES:
I’m intrigued with trying to be truthful about the struggle. I’m trying to write from that place. The definition of Israel is “people who wrestle with God.” I think that’s fascinating.

I wanted the film not to be clearly spiritual or clearly realistic or clearly impressionistic. I wanted it to be metaphoric. I wanted the world that the film takes place in to be a subjective world that mirrors the life of the central character. I wanted people to project onto the film, but I didn’t expect people to do so to the extent that they are. I didn’t expect it to be controversial.

I also knew that by making a film that was more subjective than naturalistic, it would spark with some people.

If you take somebody’s life, it seems to me that there are two main ways that you reconcile… one in the secular world and one in the spiritual. In the secular world … you do whatever the legal system says is suitable. You seek forgiveness from others or from yourself.

If you are a spiritual person and you believe in God, it’s not like it’s easier. If you’re a Christian you choose Christ as your vehicle for redemption; dramatically, it wouldn’t have been interesting. It would have been to easy.

So I thought, dramatically it would be more interesting for the character to say, “I don’t want to be forgiven.” And so he becomes so desperate to lift this weight off his shoulders. He tries a lot of different things. But ultimately he doesn’t think he deserves anything.

---

Solomon’s instinctive storytelling might reveal more “religious” truth than he intends. His characters seem ignorant of God’s grace, even as they extend it to each other. Manual seems resolved to saving himself “by hand,” but there’s a hole at the center of his life that the gospel would fill perfectly.

Most mainstream movies make me eager to part company with their shallow, ill-mannered characters and cheap answers. Solomon challenges us with something more, something deeply personal… questions. Just as he sometimes wonders what happened to that incarcerated teen, after watching Levity we are left wondering where his metropolitan pilgrims’ progress will lead them. Do they have any inklings of real hope? Have they learned lessons that will quench their longing for relief, levity, and joy?

These questions suggest that the movie’s work is not over after the credits roll. That’s when we have the opportunity to turn to our fellow moviegoers and really get to the heart of things.

Jeffrey Overstreet’s interview with director Patrice Leconte is available at Paste Magazine.

a commentary by Jeffrey Overstreet

•

Most Christian press publications will lavish praise upon Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ. They will celebrate the arrival of a film rich with spiritual power, rendered with riveting and even excruciating detail.

Some will go so far as to declare that in this film, the Church has a fantastic “evangelical opportunity.”

But the fact that many Christians-many churches-are responding to the film as if it is a call to arms, an exhortation to use Gibson’s work as a blunt instrument of evangelism, reveals that they are blind to one of the very things that makes many people steer clear of the Gospel.

People view Christians as self-righteous. They see believers as thinking they have all the answers. They see us as confrontational, militant, ready to ambush them with a sales-pitch for Jesus.

This very thing happened this morning in Dallas. A crowd of believers and unbelievers filed into a cinema, experienced a work of intense and complicated art… something that requires a good deal of time for recovery afterward… something that requires contemplation.

But just as the credits started the roll, and while the music was just beginning to soar… the system was shut down.

A team of ministers appeared on stage.

The gospel was explained and an altar call was held.

Some filed out… believers and unbelievers alike… astonished that they were not allowed to absorb the film and think about it. They were ambushed, taken advantage of, while in a state of high emotion.

This is wrong… just plain wrong. It is presumptuous, arrogant, and manipulative. And I believe it is further hardening people’s hearts, making them not want to have anything to do with a religion that does not allow them to experience something for themselves and have their own thoughts about it.

What is even worse is this: Believers come out from behind the walls of their churches only when they have their own story to talk about. They do not show much interest in hearing… much less discussing… the stories that the rest of the world has to tell. How will we ever get to know them and understand their questions, fears, and problems if all we do is come out and beat them over the head with Gospel tracts? Moreover, how will we ever be open ourselves to what God might say to us through a work of art… even one that an unbeliever crafted?

Now that there is a movie about Jesus on the big screen, sure enough, here we come, ready to sign folks up for Jesus as if  The Passion of the Christ is some kind of army enlistment commercial. I saw a commercial for the movie the other night immediately followed by an ad for a local church, in which two smiling mild-mannered ministers basically said that after people get out of the movie, they should come on down to the local church and get their questions answered by the experts.

Folks, The Passion is not propaganda. It should not be treated as such.

The Passion is a remarkably imagined, powerfully executed work of art. Yes, it has the power to transform perceptions, hearts, whole lives. It gives us opportunity to examine how good and evil are in conflict, how God has worked and still works in our lives, and it gives us a wonderful… but human, and thus flawed… expression of one of spiritual conflict.

But we should note two things:

One–We should consider our own responses, search our own souls, after seeing this work. That should come before we worry about someone else’s response.

Two: Meaningful movies happen all of the time. Why are we only bothering to interact with our culture about this movie?

Each month, a flurry of new films comes to theatres. Many of them are produced merely to make money, and very little attention or care is given to the quality of the storytelling, the acting, the technical aspects. These “flashes in the pan” are quickly forgotten, until they resurface on DVD, and the process repeats itself.

But several films, almost every month, reflect the passion of individual artists to tell meaningful stories to the rest of the culture. These films are in some way worthy of praise. And even if the artist did not intend to communicate anything about Jesus, anything about Scripture, anything about God… if they made something with excellence, they have given us something worth exploring, worth discussing, something that is, like The Passion of the Christ, flawed and yet revelatory.

When this happens, it is important that people gifted with vision and discernment be there to hear these stories and to discuss them with others in the audience.

Scripture exhorts us to “test all things and hold fast to what is good.” Instead, most churchgoers fear the culture’s offerings, or else just prefer to stick with what is familiar and comfortable and “Christian.”

It is especially important that Christians follow the example set by Jesus, who listened passionately to broken people of all kinds, and helped them find wisdom in their own words, helped them realize what their own questions revealed. He transformed the way a woman thought about drawing water from a well… a very practical and mundane act. He led Nicodemus to consider the profound implications of wanting to begin life anew… that there is, indeed, an offer from God that allows us to be forgiven for our past sins, so we can be “born again.” Jesus had a knack for metaphors.

Does the church remember the power of a metaphor? Do Christians realize that metaphors happen outside of the Bible? Do we know how to look at a great film like House of Sand and Fog and realize what it shows us about the consequences of sin? Do we see what it says about spiritual emptiness? Pride? Greed?

All good stories echo Scriptural truths about good and evil, choices and consequences, sacrifice and self-indulgence, slavery and freedom. Art, when it is excellent, is immensely powerful and rich, no matter who creates it–believer or unbeliever.

And shouldn’t we expect that to be the case? Scripture assures us that all men and women have been created by God, in his image, and (according to Romans) that on some level we all know and recognize the truth, no matter how little we acknowledge it or understand it. So of course the truth will become evident, to some degree, in the works of even the most outspoken atheist. Indeed, if anything about an artist’s work communicates anything, then there is something, however feeble, of God’s design reflected in it. It’s our job to separate meaning from lies, excellence from mediocrity, and to give God the glory.

That’s just what the Apostle Paul did when he found a secular monument “to an Unknown God.” He saw a work that inadvertently pointed back to Scripture, and he talked about it.

People come away from movies saying “I liked it” or “I didn’t like it” or “It didn’t do anything for me” or “I was moved by it.”  But rarely do they go deeper than that. Rarely do they say how it moved them. That’s where we can start taking the discussion to a new level. That’s where we can begin to explore a story’s meaning.

What does it mean when someone says, “It moved me”? Do they mean they started at Point A, and now they are at Point B? What changed? How have they been transformed? Is it a good change?

Those are the sorts of things we should be talking about.

Our culture has become so desensitized, so numb from being over-stimulated by relentless media, that we have ceased to think about what it is we are consuming. Moviegoers just want the latest thrill. We need to learn to “digest” our cinematic “food.” We need to rediscover productive conversations about what we are watching, just the way the world is grappling with this film about Christ.

And we all need to realize-even Christians-that we do not have all the answers. We can learn from art, and from talking to others about what that art has meant to them.

This is why the favorite films of critics at the end of the year are so different from the favorite films of “the People’s Choice.” Critics have the job, and thus the responsibility, to guide us into examining the details: quality, meaning, symbolism, and originality. By thinking more critically, we can get more out of our movies and learn to appreciate richer cinematic “food.”

NOTE: I am not saying film critics are better than other people. One person has already criticized this letter, saying I am being egotistical. That means I am not being clear… No, of course I’m not saying critics are better than other people. But I am saying that the discipline of discernment, of listening and “testing all things” is our responsibility as Christians. I need other Christians to see the things I don’t see, to help me understand more clearly, to get involved in the discussion and lead me to insight and understanding.

But too many believers live in fear that they will be corrupted by the secular culture. They do not want to do the hard work of resisting temptation, testing all things, and striving out to engage the culture while wearing the full armor of God. Most Christians are more comfortable within the walls of the church, talking with other Christians, listening to music they write for themselves and each other that is free of anything offensive (“contemporary Christian music”), copying every cultural event and creating their own “sanitized” and “sanctified” versions. (Take the Grammys, and their Christian “clean” equivalent, the Dove Awards. There’s even a Christian version of American Idol going on. How ironic.)

The truth is that Jesus did not just hang out at the church. He spent time with smelly fishermen, hard-working women at the well, religious people having crises of faith, demoniacs, prostitutes, drunkards, lepers, and tax collectors. He listened to them, ate with them, chatted with them, argued with them. He was engaged in the culture. He was not withdrawn, creating a cheap sanitized copy of the world where his disciples could live uncontaminated.

ANOTHER NOTE: Am I saying we must go and expose ourselves to pornography and other terrible, offensive things? No, of course not. We must be wise and responsible. But we must also be involved. Christ saw a lot of evil, and he dealt with it. He spoke the truth… but not in a self-righteous or condemning way… he spoke the truth in love.

Yes, he did tell us to avoid being a stumbling block. We should not take an alcoholic to a bar, and we should not take someone prone to sexual errors to a movie about sexuality. If I have a weakness, I should be cautious until God has helped me overcome that.

Christ exhorted us to become stronger, to put on “the full armor of God” that will help us “stand firm against the schemes of the devil.” This is part of graduating from “milk” to “meat”, to use Scripture’s words for it.

It would be wrong for me to over-generalize here. Indeed, there are many followers of Christ who are living in the world without becoming of the world. They understand Christ’s observation, that it is not what goes into us that can corrupt us, but what comes out of us that can corrupt us (Christ’s words, again.) They see God’s truth showing up in all kinds of art from all kinds of people.

I sincerely hope that The Passion draws churchgoers out from the walls of their sanctuaries and into the local theater. I hope it inspires them to be a part of the larger cultural conversation about movies-what they they reflect, the questions they ask, the truths they reveal.

And I hope this is the beginning of the end of the era in which Christians condemn wholesale the world of mainstream art for reflecting the honest confusion, incomplete philosophies, and idea of popular culture. Sure there are gross and indulgent offenses at the movies, just as there are in professional sports, literature, business, and religion. But we are not to withdraw in disgust from the whole arena. We are to be salt and light, which means we will suffer. So let us suffer as Christ did, out of love for the broken hearts that are out there needing to be heard and loved.

It is time to stop judging the film by its ingredients and start looking hard at what those various ingredients create. (If we refused to hear stories in which people are sinning, we’d have to throw out the Bible!)  Relevant storytelling for grownups will show us ourselves, at our best and at our worst. What is important is not how many times the hero said a bad word, but whether or not the WHOLE of the work contains glimmers of truth and beauty.

WHERE DO WE START?

Well, in the world of mainstream entertainment, there have been… even recently… many wonderful subjects for discussion and exploration.

Here are some of the recent works of art that, like The Passion, are flawed, human expressions, but that also reflect enough truth to merit discussion, debate, and exploration. They have the power to humble, convict, inspire, reveal… Like Hamlet and his players, they can “catch the conscience” of any of us, if we look closely enough, with eyes to see.

Where was the church in conversations about these films?

• House of Sand and Fog-a drama in which people behave desperately, with blind self-interest, and ruin things for others and eventually themselves, having hurriedly constructed their dreams on weak foundations.
• Stevie-one of many brilliant documentaries released last year that examines the way that the sins of the father lead to corruption, heartbreak, and worsening sins in the son. It also reveals miracles of compassion, the power of a good role model, the wisdom of angels given to some of the most damaged and unlikely individuals, and the foolishness of the “mature.” It’s one of the most powerful films I’ve ever seen, and I’ll bet you can’t find more than one or two people at your church who have even heard of it.
• Mystic River-a story about how the sins of our past continue to poison our futures until we see them, acknowledge them, and confess them.
• Lost in Translation-a story of failing marriages, in which two lonely people discover that life, even life in a foreign setting, becomes vibrant and meaningful when experienced in the context of compassion, understanding, and love.
• Finding Nemo-a fantasy that talks to kids about the importance of boundaries and obedience, while it talks to parents about the dangers of being over-protective.
• Capturing the Friedmans-another new documentary, rated amongst mainstream critics as one of the year’s best films, and one of the best documents you’ll ever see of the way one lie can lead to evil that spreads like an epidemic and destroys whole families.
• The Lord of the Rings films. Yes, a lot of Christians have cheered to see the success of a series based on a story created by a Christian. We’ve boasted that, yes, Tolkien was one of us! But have we opened ourselves to the humbling power of what takes place in the story? Most discerning viewers will come away challenged and convicted by at least one of its myriad storylines, inspired by its examples of Christ-like sacrifice, the power of mercy, and the way that even the righteous cannot withstand evil on their own, but need the grace of a Higher Power… “another Will at work.”

To name a few.

If we hope that the rest of the world will listen closely to The Passion of the Christ, the story we care about most, are we willing to attend with equal concern, questioning, and openness to the stories that everyone else has to share?

Look at this: Christ’s last words were a quote, a sign pointing to another work of art. His last words were an excerpt from a song written by an adulterer and a murderer. When he cried out “My God, My God, Why hast thou forsake me?” he was quoting Psalm 22. He was referencing another artistic expression, one written by a sinful, broken, corrupt man. Instead of coming up with original words of his own, he called upon the words written in the desperate expression of someone else.

For me, The Passion of the Christ is a vivid reminder of what God’s son endured. It shows me that he endured so much in order to show me just how far God is willing to go to replace my fear with peace. It reminds me of something else as well: That he loved and forgave even those who murdered him. Similarly, I must attend to those people with my own love, with my own attention, listening to their questions, their frustrations their fears, and… yes… their art.