Read Chapter One of "Auralia's Colors"!
Auralia lay still as death, like a discarded doll, in a burgundy tangle of rushes and spineweed on the bank of a bend in the River Throanscall, when she was discovered by an old man who did not know her name.... Read more
The Reaping (2007)
This review was originally published at Christianity Today.
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In the book of Exodus, we read about how Moses confronted Pharaoh, who was persecuting the Israelite slaves, and demanded, "Let my people go!" But Pharaoh stubbornly refused, even as the wrath of God brought ten plagues to ravage his land.
There are also ten plagues in The Reaping, Warner Brothers' new horror thriller. But you don't have to suffer through all of them, or wait for a deliverer. You are not a slave to Hollywood's clever marketing campaigns. You don't have to wait for an usher to yell, "Let my people go!" You can get up out of your theater seat and go free at any time. Or, better yet—you can avoid this movie altogether.
As written by Carey W. Hayes and Chad Hayes, The Reaping has an intriguing premise—those famous Old Testament plagues are recurring in Haven, Louisiana. Or are they? Perhaps there is a scientific explanation for all of this.
That's what Katherine Winter (Hilary Swank) proposes. Winter may as well be Indiana Jones' granddaughter—one day, she's lecturing about the scientific explanations behind reportedly paranormal phenomena. (Doesn't your local university have a miracle-debunker?) The next day, she's an adventurer, investigating so-called "miracles" so she can debunk all of this hocus-pocus.
The pattern worked for Indy, but Winter could stand to learn a thing or two about adventuring. She seems strangely compelled to wade deeper and deeper into trouble equipped with little more than fancy scientific jargon. Whether she's headed into a dark attic, a dark cellar, a dark abandoned house, or dark woods, Winter seems averse to using common-sense tools like flashlights. Shouldn't she be wearing more than a flimsy tank top as she deals with boil-covered corpses and blood-polluted rivers?
And why is she so driven to disprove miracles? The film has an impressive explanation: She's lost her faith in God, and she's bitter about a deep, personal loss.
Nevertheless, God protects Winter and her sidekick Ben (Idris Elba) from the deadly effects of these amazing disasters. They seem immune to the corruption rampant in Haven, but don't worry—there are plenty of locals and CGI-generated cattle to give the plagues something to afflict.
For a few moments, viewers may wonder if this is going to become a cautionary tale about global warming. Or perhaps it's a commentary on the Hurricane Katrina disaster, suggesting, like some televangelists, that sin brought devastation on New Orleans. (It's no surprise that FEMA remains absent from the scene of the plagues, but where's the national media? When swamps start turning to blood, shouldn't Anderson Cooper be standing in the muck with a live report?)
AnnaSophia Robb as Loren McConnell—a long way from Terabithia
But no, The Reaping is far too excited about unleashing special-effects mayhem to bother with any serious thought. The plagues provide enough paranormal activity for several movies, but they're just the beginning. Winter's old friend Father Costigan, a priest she's trying to ignore, is suffering vivid hallucinations about the angel of death, and all of his photographs of Winter are catching fire. Meanwhile, Dakota Fanning's evil twin (AnnaSophia Robb of Bridge to Terabithia) is lurking in the Haven swamp. When she's around, Winter suffers freaky psychic flashes. These fragmented revelations may not be of much practical use, but they sure make viewers jump in their seats.
You don't need to be a psychic to guess how it will all turn out. We're sure that a villain will be revealed. Is it the girl, or her zombie-like mother? Is it Costigan? Is it the local Christian loudmouth who sneers at Winter's crisis of faith? ("Some people just don't want to go to heaven.") With so few possibilities, viewers who are familiar with the genre will be able to place smart bets on the outcome.
In fact, with a few winks at the audience, this could have become a campy classic, a spoof of noisy horror flicks. But director Stephen Hopkins (TV's Tales from the Crypt) takes this preposterous storyline so seriously that it's just no fun. You may find yourself wishing that boils or locusts would come and put you out of your misery.
For all of its God-talk, The Reaping is just the kind of "faith-based film" we don't need. What hathThe Passion of The Christ wrought? With only a few notable exceptions, it hath wrought a plague of exploitative, superficial, theologically confused, audience-abusing movies like Constantineand this big-budget howler.
The Reaping was originally pitched to the Christian market as being "biblically based." If that meant there are ten plagues in the book of Exodus and ten plagues in this film, well, OK, that's correct. But shouldn't we ask for something better? There is nothing here worthy of praise, save for some frightfully convincing effects. (The bloody river has more detail and personality than the characters. Locusts buzz up a perfect storm. And Winter ascends a stairway of David Lynchian proportions.)
Christian moviegoers hungry for challenging movies can support more thought-provoking efforts like Amazing Grace. Horror movies can offer substantial explorations of spiritual questions. Scott Derrickson had the right idea with The Exorcism of Emily Rose—a film in which horror-flick conventions helped coax mainstream audiences toward serious questions about the reality of spiritual warfare.
But The Reaping is shameless in the way it exploits real-world realities for cheap entertainment. They even stoop so low as to bring the current crisis in Sudan into the picture—not to make us more aware of the atrocities happening there, but so we can feel bad for some Americans who learned their lesson about intervening. (This repeats the prime offense of The Last King of Scotland: a movie about Idi Amin's cruelty, in which the audience is not so much concerned about mass-murder as they are about whether or not the white guy can get away with an extramarital affair.)
But wait—this movie stars two-time Oscar-winner Hilary Swank. Doesn't that make it worth seeing? Swank doesn't embarrass herself—she doesn't have a chance. The frantic editing eliminates anything resembling a performance. The characters enjoy moments more than scenes. This style has become common in the horror genre, perhaps to help distract audiences from gaping plot holes.
Swank's supporting cast fares even worse. As a handsome Haven widower, David Morrissey sounds impressively like a young Liam Neeson—but this feature won't improve his resume. (His last project was Basic Instinct 2.) Idris Elba's character doesn't get much chance to demonstrate his Christian faith—but aren't his cross jewelry and his cross tattoos impressive? Poor Stephen Rea is trapped in the loneliest, most ridiculous role of his career, spouting "ancient prophecies" that make The DaVinci Code sound plausible by comparison.
AnnaSophia Robb is the film's most memorable presence. She was creepy enough to distract me with visions of a franchise in which she and the hordes of creepy kids from other horror movies join forces and become a team of tiny crime-fighters who, focusing their menacing gazes and sinister whispers, scare the bad guys to death.
What does it all mean? Besides the obvious lessons of "Satanic cults are bad," "faith is good," and "It's wrong to murder small children," it's hard to say. Those determined to justify the film may argue that it's a story about a culture that devalues children; or find profundity in Winter's crisis of faith. But Hopkins' style disrupts any coherent thought.
And we aren't led to fear the wrath of God; the spectacle of one plague inclines us to lean forward in anticipation of the next, so that the finale is like the climax of a Fourth of July display. When frogs fell from the sky in Magnolia, we cared because the film was filled with interesting characters. Here, they're just another juicy jolt—and by that point, the plagues have become wearying. When Ben exclaims, "There's still three plagues to go! We gotta get outta here!", most viewers will have already come to that same conclusion, and much earlier.
"Breath for the Bones" - Luci Shaw's Memoir
Luci Shaw and John Hoyte are two of my favorite human beings. They are generous, full of astonishing stories from their own experiences, and revellers in great art.
Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End (2007)
This review was originally published at Christianity Today.
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Would you book passage on a doomed ship if you knew Johnny Depp, Keira Knightley, and Orlando Bloom would be along for the ride?
Millions of moviegoers will say "yes" and climb aboard for Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End, the conclusion of Disney's pirate trilogy. Some will even go in hats, dreadlocks, and heavy eyeliner, cheering for their favorite scallywags. And they'll reward director Gore Verbinski and company with enough treasure to fund another whole franchise.
But that may be fool's gold they're spending. Not even a dozen Captain Jack Sparrows can save this overstuffed ship from sinking. If less really is more, Verbinski must have missed the memo. (In last summer's Dead Man's Chest, he proved that excess can be a good thing; it's hard to have too much fun with slapstick sequences as inspired as those. But here, it's just chaotic action, a lot of shooting and swordplay without character development to give it gravity.)
If you choose to join this rowdy cruise, plan to purchase a couple of meals' worth of popcorn and soda. Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End packs more characters, more action, more surprises, and more metaphysical nonsense into 168 minutes — yes, that's right, almost three hours — than most adventure trilogies contain in their whole series. (I know, I recently said the same thing about Spider-Man 3. But trust me: At World's End makes that movie look as simple as a Saturday morning cartoon.) And you'll have to sit through twelve minutes of closing credits to see the movie's predictable epilogue. But most moviegoers will have already walked the plank, emerging seasick, full of strange tales, and drunk on plot-twists, double-crosses, and baffling revelations.
Wait — I take back what I said about popcorn. Verbinski and the effects team work overtime to spoil your appetite. The previous Pirates movies have shown a flair for the grotesque, and this time, they pull out all the stops. In fact, they dismember them. Characters have a troubling tendency to snap off digits, gouge out eyes (and suck on them), rip brains out of craniums (and lick them), and yank out beating hearts (and maybe even stab them). It's like touring the popular "Bodies" exhibit (featured in Casino Royale), only to see the corpses come to life and dissect themselves.
And the film's mad revelry in violence reaches troubling extremes. After the opening scene of a child being hanged, impalings and shootings come at a dizzying rate.
You'll notice I haven't summarized the story yet. That's because it would take hours to diagram the crisscrossing currents of this narrative. Screenwriters Ted Elliott and Ted Rossio fail to rekindle the chemistry of the characters in Dead Man's Curse, and their turbulent pacing sinks the storyline's coherence rather spectacularly. We're left flailing about, grasping at pieces of the narrative's wreckage, while it all eventually goes down in a whirlpool of chaotic action as powerful as the Charybdis.
Here's a sketchy summary:
Manifesting the world's greatest evil — a corporation — the malevolent Lord Beckett (Tom Hollander) has obtained the still-beating heart of Davy Jones (Bill Nighy). In doing so, he's gained control of the fearsome, barnacle-skinned crew of Jones' ship, The Flying Dutchman. With this advantage, Beckett plans to cleanse the world of pirates.
Thus, our "heroes" — Will Turner (Orlando Bloom), Elizabeth Swann (Keira Knightley), the recently resurrected Captain Barbossa (Geoffrey Rush), and the mysterious Tia Dalma (Naomie Harris) — set out to rescue their only hope: that rascal, Captain Jack Sparrow (Johnny Depp).
Sounds like another famous third episode? Replace Jabba the Hutt with Chow Yun-Fat, and you've got the idea. Barbossa, Elizabeth, and Will must outwit Captain Sao Feng (Yun-Fat), a Chinese pirate, in order to free Jack from his underworld purgatory. Verbinski even pays tribute to poor Princess Leia, as Elizabeth is stripped to her skivvies. ("More steam," demands Sao Feng, but I think those were stage directions.)
Why do "the good guys" need Captain Jack so badly? Well, to ensure box office success, for starters. But Sparrow is also necessary for the reassembling of the Nine Lords of the Brethren Court — the world's foremost pirates. If the Nine can pool their resources, they can muster a mighty last stand against Beckett and his East India Trading Company.
Wait, the Nine what? What is this, The Lord of the Rings? No, not even close. The Nine pirate lords are even more culturally diverse than the fellowship of the ring, and show more personality than Yoda's Jedi council. But I'll take the Jedi, or the Middle-Earth fellowship, any day. The Jedi boasted in honor and ethics. And Frodo kept company with inspiring heroes. In this franchise, it's every man — and woman — for him or herself.
Three hours is a long time to sit watching self-centered buffoons scrambling about the deck of an unsteady ship. For all of the talk about love and freedom, these "mateys" are as fickle and reckless as a cafeteria full of juvenile delinquents. Everybody lies to everybody. Understanding their motives and grudges is like trying to comprehend sectarian violence in the Middle East. The movie's most telling scene involves a super-sized Mexican standoff, in which the gunslingers can't decide who to shoot. Who can blame them? They're all losers. Moviegoers might as well root for Lord Beckett.
Thus, the movie ends up like Davy Jones himself — many-tentacled, full of bluster, and devoid of a beating heart.
Even Depp's Captain Jack can't rescue the waterlogged storyline. Sure, he's as entertaining as ever. The screenwriters give him some of the series' funniest lines — Shakespeare would have howled to hear Jack fumble that famous quip about "a woman scorned." But while Jack's moral dilemmas in Dead Man's Chest were a giant step toward meaningful storytelling, here he's not much more than a delusional wisecracker stumbling about on the edges of things. When Will and Liz come to the rescue, they find him lost in a delirium. And once they drag him back into the action, he never really recovers. He's too busy arguing with the voices in his head—or, hair, as the case may be. (And that gag isn't nearly as funny as Verbinski thinks it is.)
Most disappointing of all — what should have been a tragic romance of mythic proportions is little more than a footnote. We finally learn the truth about Davy Jones' broken heart, but that melancholy melody is lost in the din of battleship shootouts. And Jones, a magnificent specter inDead Man's Chest, is just another action figure in the mob this time around. That deserves a resentful "Arrrrrrr" from all pirate fans.
If any of the stories actually tugs at the heartstrings, it's the story of Will Turner's desperate quest to save his father from slavery. Just as Sean Bean's supporting turn as Boromir in The Fellowship of the Ring rang out powerfully, so Stellan Skarsgård conveys remarkably poignant emotion in his role as "Bootstrap" Bill. And yet, even that melodramatic tale is overrun by the tidal wave of chaos turned loose by the special-effects team in the sea battle to end all sea battles.
Is there any reason to buy a ticket at all? Oh, yeah. The budget bought some remarkable imagery: the Black Pearl sailing an ocean of sand; an aerial view of a boat sailing through starfields; an underworld of doldrums full of despondent ghosts; and the awe-inspiring return of the goddess Calypso to the ocean. A couple of action sequences — including the intentional capsizing of a ship by its crew — achieve a certain mad brilliance. In the pandemonium of the pirates' climactic war for independence, you'll witness one of the big screen's most ludicrous love scenes. And the ships rock and roll to Hans Zimmer's score, which is as stirring as a storm at sea.
The special effects are on par with last year's spectacular Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest. (It's a shame that such life-like action feel so heart-less.) And the greatest special effect in the entire series isn't a special effect at all: It's Keith Richards's impossibly fantastic face. Yes, that's the Rolling Stones axe-swinger himself — the true inspiration for Depp's Jack Sparrow — playing a gravel-voiced veteran of the high seas.
In fact, Richards delivers one of the movie's best lines: "It's not about living forever; the trick is living with yourself." It's a flicker of meaningful thought in the madness. And it might have resonated more powerfully if the movie hadn't felt like "living forever" in an out-of-control amusement park.
Most moviegoers will agree: At World's End shivers our timbers far too much. "Close your eyes and pretend it's all a bad dream," advises Captain Jack. "That's how I get by." Not bad advice. But wait — the dream may not be over yet! The closing scenes suggest that at least one of the characters might live on … and on … and on …
For book clubs, for film-discussion groups, or just for some summer reading...
I've been fairly quiet lately about the progress of Through a Screen Darkly. But, having just started taking notes for my next book about film, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to share a couple of recent highlights.
I just delivered some copies of Darkly to a book club. And I was thrilled that they selected my book as the centerpiece of their summertime reading and discussion, and have been hearing from similar groups around the country.Read more
Evan All-Mushy?
 
Yikes.
The hype for Evan Almighty is so big, you can hardly visit a Christian media website these days without the banner-ads knocking you senseless.
Well, sure, the charities that may gain from the movie are probably quite honorable. But wouldn't it be nice if all of this well-intentioned philanthropy associated itself with a movie worth seing?
Just how good is this movie that so many will be paying out ten bucks a ticket to see? I haven't seen it, so I can't say. I'll just point you to those who have seen it. And, well... I'm not saying you should believe them, but....
I'll let you know if any of the usual, trustworthy suspects end up thinking it's fantastic. But until they speak up, here are a few of the most prominent reviews so far. I've highlighted a few of the superlatives being thrown around.
Via Rotten Tomatoes:
The problems with Evan Almighty mostly boil down to questions of scale. The movie warns of an imminent flood, yet delivers only sprinkles of laughter or anything approaching magic. It's mildly diverting for kids and families in a way that would be perfectly fine as an ABC Family cable project (perhaps before "The 700 Club"), but sails into the summer anchored to all the baggage and expectations a comedy with an enormous budget invites. Universal has courted church groups and will need them to line up, two by two and then some, to fully recoup on their epic investment.
Kirk Honeycutt (Hollywood Reporter):
Much of the slapstick comedy involved in the building is feeble, and the film never does something unexpected once the wheels are set in motion. Shadyac and Oedekerk rely on the nonhuman supporting cast for their comic shock and awe.
And then, via GreenCine Daily:
Evan Almighty signals a passing of the torch, as Tom Shadyac's follow-up to his 2004 Jim Carrey vehicle Bruce Almighty heralds Steve Carell as the new face of big-screen comedy. ... As proven by the plummet of Carey's box-office star, it's a station not easily maintained, and one that necessitates far better - and funnier - films than this toothless biblical-themed sequel.
At 89 minutes that last a lifetime, it's a sanctimonious sitcom dolled up as the most expensive comedy ever made - $175 mil, so they say, no doubt choking - and marks an unfortunate low point in the history of recent American comedy, as it proves that Steve Carell can't make a Bible school lesson funny. There goes his perfect game.
David Edelstein, in New York:
Evan Almighty runs out of comic invention early, and the filmmakers fall back on what real politicians do when they exhaust their small stash of ideas: brainless piety.
The Funniest Movies Ever Made?
This Observer article finds several comedy experts reminiscing about their laugh-out-loud favorites. And the collection gets four cheers from me for giving credit to four both of my all-time favorite comedies: Midnight Run and Raising Arizona (both in my all-time Top Ten movies, period) and Fletch and This is Spinal Tap.
Thanks, Dad.
Dad,
Happy Father's Day!
But before you settle in with a good book, let me say a few words of thanks...
Here you are in your dorm room at Seattle Pacific, back in your university days. What a journey it must have been, from a childhood in Mossyrock, Washington to school in the big city. Thanks for being such a great student in school. Your enthusiasm for studying, and your confidence that education would only uphold and affirm your Christian faith, continues to inspire me. Because you love to study, you taught me to love studying. Thank you.
And here you are with the woman you love at her graduation. (Yes, I can see TWO photographs of her on your student desk above.) Your faithfulness, devotion, and adoration of Mom continues to inspire me. Because you continue to love her so completely as the decades pass, you continue to deepen my understanding of the nature of True Love. You chose so wisely that you've inspired me to choose wisely as well. If I'm any good at being a husband, it's because you have taught me so much. Thank you.
Here you are teaching at Portland Christian High School when I was young. I loved to visit you in your classroom and watch you teach. You even let me run the slide projector, and change the transparencies on the overhead projector. You taught me to appreciate good teaching, and to desire to be a teacher. If I am making any kind of difference as a teacher through my writing and speaking, it's because you set such a fine example. Thank you.
Here you are encouraging me to be creative. The puppet shows got better over time (I hope). But you and Mom always set aside time to appreciate any feeble effort I made at creativity. I'm sure that had a lot to do with the fact that my life is focused on creativity today. Thank you.
Here you are with the larger family... which includes two more excellent fathers (my grandfather Norman Rydman, who went home to be with the Lord when I was in high school, and my uncle Paul Morris, who has raised two beautiful daughters), and two more fantastic mothers (my grandmother Ruth, who follow her husband soon after; and my aunt Ruthie, whose influence, humor, and creativity I see reflected in Amanda and Jenny). Dad, because you are so devoted to serving our family, you have taught me to appreciate that. I'm grateful. Especially today, when I look around and see so few people who value their families like that. Thank you.
(And this picture also reminds me that I'm glad Jason and I eventually started wearing different outfits...)
Here you are with me, Mom, and Jason, on the day of my high school graduation. (Man, I was goofy-looking!) And yet you demonstrated such patience with me, such confidence in me, even though I was probably difficult company during some of those days... I am grateful for all that you have invested in my education, my reading life, and the growth of my faith. Your example in all of these things has made me want to keep them in the center of my life. Thank you.
And here you are at home with Mom, at the fireplace, where I've watched you read so many good books before you've handed them over to me. And I'm glad you're still a part of my life. I look forward to many decades more of learning from you, reading books you recommend, and sharing life's surprises, challenges, and joys.
You and Mom are two of God's greatest gifts to me. And so I'm thanking you here, so everybody can know a little bit about how much you both mean to me.
(And if you want to hit me in the head with a frying pan for posting these pictures, just send me a note and I'll take them down.)
Happy Father's Day!
Your oldest son,
Jeff
"Wall-E" has a Trailer
Wow. What a powerful little teaser. Gives me flashbacks to the '80s... Short Circuit and E.T., specifically.
And this one's directed by Andrew Stanton, who gave us Finding Nemo. I can't wait.
As I work on stories in The Auralia Thread, I often find myself stopping to ask, "What would Pixar do?" The quality of their storytelling is their strongest virtue, and that's saying a lot considering they produce the best digitally animated movies in the world. They know the secrets of classic storytelling. They understand that a story isn't good enough for children unless it's good enough for the most discerning grownups.
Andrew Stanton is just about at the top of the list of people I hope to interview someday. Anybody out there who has an idea about how I might get an opportunity like that, please send me an email!
Frederica Matthewes-Green on "Through a Screen Darkly"
"What books were to previous generations, movies are to the present one; their ability to teach and shape our view of reality is unparalled by any other medium. Christians can't afford to be ignorant of the content and power here, and Through a Screen Darkly provides and excellent guide."
- Frederica Mathewes-Green, author of At the Corner of East and Now, Facing East: A Pilgrim's Journey into the Mysteries of Orthodoxy, and film reviewer for The New Republic