Monday, March 12, 2007

End of the Spear I read about End of the Spear when it was first released, but didn't get a chance to get to the theatre to see it. It's a famous story among Evangelicals, the martyrdom of a group of missionaries in 1956 as they tried to make contact with an native Ecaudoran people known as the Waodoni. Jim Eliot is the best-known of the missionaries who lost their lives on the sandbar that afternoon, but this story emerges through the eyes of another man, the aviator of the group with the oh-so-appropriate name Nate Saint. But the story doesn't end with the death of these men, each of them pierced by a pike wielded by these fierce and proud people--their martyrdom is a launching pad for a journey of staggering grace and change. Spoilers ahead The central journey of the film concerns a regal looking man named Mincayani, a Waodoni leader who makes the decision that these foreigners who have landed their "wood bee" (airplane) near the river must be speared. Mincayani and his men believe the missionaries to be cannibals who years before captured, killed, and ate a member of their family (a Waodoni woman still very much alive and who will eventually prove to be the bridge between the families of the slain men and their killers). After the missionaries' death, astonishingly, some of the their family members eventually make contact with the Waodoni and end up living among Mincayani's tribe for many years. Many of the Waodoni come to faith, but the real transformation is in Mincayani, who desperately tries to hang on to his understanding of life and the ways his people have always known. But as he comes to know these foreigners, he finally grasps that they come hoping for nothing but friendship and to teach these people that their God had a son who was "speared" so that they could "live well." Mincayani begins to suspect that killing is not the only way to gather strength. When the aviator's son, Steve Saint, grows up, he and Mincayani forge an unearthly friendship, in which they together face the murder of Saint's father in a dramatic scene on the very ground where Mincayani killed him, some 30 years before. A clunky synopsis to be sure, but its a story sure to haunt me. For courage and grace, and unearthly love, its hard to beat. As a film, it is much more successful than say, Facing the Giants, though from a storytelling point of view, there are still holes. But the production values were high (the musical score was a bit over the top for my taste), and the acting was seamless. The controversy over actor Chad Allen's sexuality (he is a openly gay man who many Christians resented playing one of their heroes) doesn't interest me--I was so thankful his character was so beautifully drawn. The women of the film, the Waodoni and the Americans, were especially affecting, their loss and struggle--and love--palpable and deep. Where the film needs work is in the story telling itself. There is something missing in Mincayani's journey. What I'm interested in is what happened in the years between the missionaries' arrival into the Waodoni life and the encounter with Steve Saint years later. Wisely, the film skirts an explicit attitude of proselytizing, presenting the gospel much as the missionaries initially did, using the language and symbols systems already present in Waodoni belief. But there's something about the soft edge of this presentation that, in my view, undermines the intended emotional impact of the film. Why does Mincayani change? We see him come to regret his action, largely because of the friendship and kindness of these Americans. But because faith in Christ is present only on the level of pre-assumption, the film becomes a testimony to what can easily been seen as something that actually transcends religious faith. In other words, it is a human story, which is its strength (and of course, that's exactly what I want it to be), but in the end, it only points the faithful to God, because we're already in on the pre-assumption. I'm not sure what I'd think if I didn't already believe in Christ. As a film audience member, I'm not satisfied that I've the final piece of Mincayani's journey. I want to see the decision that makes him decide to face his past, take Steve Saint to that sandbar, and beg for a cleansing death. I'm pretty sure I'm not saying what I want, but what I take away is that flawed films well done, which is how I'd classify End of the Spear, can haunt us just as much as the masterpieces. All that said... ...watch it. 10:02:13 AM    comment []

Saturday, February 24, 2007

Facing the Giants Nothing good could come of it, but I did it anyway: I finally watched Facing the Giants. If I hated it, I'd have guilt to deal with, because any film this front and center about wanting to bring God glory ought to be something we laud and applaud, right? On the other hand, if I liked it, I'd be faced with the proposition of going up against people I respect that have, by and large, trounced the film. Either way, it was going to be a tough experience. Warning: spoilers ahead Facing the Giants is a $100,000 movie written and produced by Sherwood Pictures, brainchild of Alex and Stephen Kendrick, associate pastors of Sherwood Baptist Church in Albany, Georgia. The story (which has grossed over $10M so far) of a down-and-out football team from a southern Christian High School, Facing the Giants is a David-and-Goliath feel-good story in which a coach on the brink of being fired turns to God and receives a series of direct answers to his prayers. Lackluster attitude morphs into gut-busting motivation, a barely-drivable car gets replaced by a Texas sized pick-up truck, a weak-legged kicker "gives his best for God" and comes up with a 50+ yard field goal, and scientifically declared infertility melts in the face of a near-miraculous pregnancy. Maybe that sounds cynical--here's a different way to say it. In this inspirational story, a team of apathetic, high school football players gets challenged by a spiritual coach to give their best for God, and they do. That coach puts his faith in God in that most rare of film moments, the sincere evangelical prayer, and God answers that prayer in ways that frankly, many believers have both witnessed and experienced. Far-fetched? Maybe, but even with the bad acting, the bad writing, and my cynicism perched proudly on my shoulder like a preening cockatoo, there were moments when it was hard not to be moved. All that said, Facing the Giants, and the debate it creates, is fascinating. I have no doubt that Christians of a particular ilk weep when they see this film, not once, but several times. Maybe it's just that they've endured so much filth on screen, that to see their own lifestyle and belief so explicitly--if not completely honestly--represented, is as close as they will come to experiencing the miraculous. And conversely, many other-ilked disciples can barely sit through it, their stomachs churning in dismay at this picture of a God who always comes through. In their experience, that's not how it works at all. On the up side, there are things to like about this film. It looks much better than $100,000, and I am frankly amazed that a church was able to pull it off. There are moments in the film that won legitimate laughs in my living room, and that's not easy for film to do, at least not with me. The story has possibilities; Alex Kendrick has the right idea, and though he mishandles all sorts of things--exposition, structure, reveals and reversals--the bones of what he's getting at are there. I suspect those of us moved by the film aren't being moved by the film at all, but rather we are seeing through to what we wish the film were. And talking about acting--I work with non-actors all the time, and it's not easy to get them to just relax and speak, which Kendrick has done pretty well. That doesn't mean they're acting--in most cases, they're not even close--but they could have been much, much worse. Not much consolation, true, but I'll give them what credit they're due. To get more insight into Alex Kendrick, the man who made it all happen, here's a pretty insightful interview at ProdigalSonMagazine.com. Go read Barbara Nicolosi or Dick Staub (also here and here) or any number of others if you want to read the downside of Facing the Giants, and just know that I agree with most of what's said. But I kept thinking of Barbara as I watched, and about her vehemence about this film. I know she believes God answers prayer, and I know she believes in taking whatever there is in life to Him, so theologically, it's not that she thinks God doesn't work in people's lives, delivering all sorts of blessings that we can choose to attribute to him or not. I guess to state it most simply, Facing the Giants falls far short as a work of filmic art. And because of the power of cinema in culture to create images of reality, the life of God portrayed in film is important. Our vision of God and the life of Christ is largely a function of imagination, and by that, I don't mean fanciful thinking. We image a life of Christ both internally and externally, the latter being somewhat dependent on the former. And how we construct those Kingdom of God images will impact everything we do. Is there a film in which an authentic, modern or post-modern evangelical journey is portrayed? A journey towards faith in God, with the particular trappings of the evangelical environment, with all its calls to faith and piety, yet balanced by the inevitable disappointments and confusions that lead to doubt, distrust, rebellion, and perhaps, repentance and reconciliation, all of it done without a hint of dishonest proselytizing? If you know of one, let me know. ...That's a film I'd like to see... 9:07:30 PM    comment []

Home Sick, Thinking about Women Yesterday--Thursday--the fogged rolled in. I've always been afraid of taking drugs recreationally, fearing I'd like them too much, but days like yesterday convince me that's not the case. Cold medicines, especially the ones with the "p.m." label, invariably make me loopy in some fashion, and I'm too much of a control freak to enjoy it. But yesterday, I took some "p.m." thing, hoping to sleep. The result was brain fog. So I read and watched films, along with pushing forward on a few plans for various meetings coming up. It turned out to be an interesting day. First there was the short story by Katherine Anne Porter called Maria Conception. Porter is an mid 20th Century writer I'd not heard of, but I started doing research on the town of Kyle, Texas, which is going to have some significance in Cyrus Manning's life (of Leaving Ruin fame), and I discovered that Porter, who won the Pulitzer Prize back in 1966, was from Kyle, and that many of her stories were set in the surrounding countryside. So I ordered up The Collected Stories of Katherine Anne Porter and yesterday read the first story in the collection. Maria Conception is the story of an eighteen-year-old Mexican girl whose young husband betrays her. Porter's telling of Maria's story is a glorious ushering into a world far removed from ours: Maria headed to market with half a dozen living fowls slung over her shoulder; her barefoot discovery of her husband with the fifteen-year-old beekeeper (Maria Rosa) among the cactus-bristles; the subtle camaraderie among the villagers when Maria Rosa turns up dead. No moralizing here, just an objective eye piercing the heart of a woman determined to have justice and the life she wants. Then there was the piece from the latest issue of Image. The title of the essay by Jill Patterson intrigued me: When Marriage is a Tomb Where Silence Dwells. Her story is of a marriage gone bad, two English professors whose careers end up with different degrees of success, the woman's outstripping the man's. The woman takes a break from the marriage, retreating to a corner variety store in small town Colorado, and rediscovers the simpler joys of life, and in the end, finds that sometimes, divorce can be the face of grace. Then I watched a film called The Shape of Things. Still more groggy than I wanted to be, I sat down to this film in hopes of helping my daughter with a scene she's working on from the stage play on which the film is based. Another interesting female character drives this film, played fairly by Rachel Weisz. "Evelyn" is a graduate student in art at Mercy College (interesting choice) whose Master's thesis project consists of manipulating an unsuspecting nerd into changing everything about himself. He, of course, thinks its for love, and that Evelyn's subtle suggestions for change have only his good in mind. The reveal at the end of the film is a cruel one, but has strong things to say for how we determine who we are, and the value we place on physical beauty, and more telling yet, the way personalities change when beauty is substantially enhanced, a la the now so common "makeover." And finally, the last viewing of the day: Babel, which I will blog about later, but needless to say, the journeys of the three women that are the anchors of the film are all compelling and heart breaking. At the end of the day, I couldn't help but reflect again on how difficult women have had it over the centuries, in cultures all over the world. Men have been dominant brutes so often, and women have suffered so terribly. Certainly we[base ']ve all suffered under the brutish reality of sin, but I can't help but see my wife and daughter and pray to God that we do what we can to nudge our parts of the world closer to the compassion and concern of Jesus. He dealt with women so counter-culturally. So should we. ...they deserve better... 10:04:26 AM    comment []

Monday, February 12, 2007

Children of Men When my daughter was born--my first child--her entry into my world felt miraculous. Strictly speaking, it wasn't. It was the natural first flowering of human life, but birth up close demands attention, staggering the imagination. From what comes life? We know the science, but not the why of it. When I first held her, awe and worship is all that really came to mind. Worship not of nature or of some primal urge fulfilled, nor of destiny, but of God. When Jesus was born, it was in a backwater place, a forgotten little town like millions of others now around the globe. Women had babies everyday, and life was hard, normal, uneventful except for those personal things human beings treasure. But then, a young girl had a conversation with a man who matter-of-factly said he was from God. She said okay, and the Messiah came. Having recently gone through another advent season, written another Christmas play, sharing another round of gifts under the tree, I have to admit its hard to grasp what Jesus' coming meant at the time. I haven't yet seen The Nativity Story so I'm not sure what its impact will be. Apparently it's received mostly strong reviews. Now I'm sitting in the movie theatre last Saturday with Anjie and Daniel, all of us watching Children of Men. I don't know much about the film, other than having read that for many people, it strikes a chord The Nativity Story was trying to strike, supposedly doing so more effectively. Children of Men is the story of earth some twenty years from now. A mysterious infertility grips the world, procreation non-existent. No babies have been born on earth since 2009. Chaos rules every continent, collapsing societies under constant threat by militant revolutionaries of all stripes. Theo Faron (Clive Owen) is a British government worker thrust into the great adventure of his time: he is entrusted with a woman who has inexplicably become pregnant. He must get her to safety, taking her into the heart of a brutal world of desperate refugees in order to deliver her into the hands of "The Human Project." (Warning: Spoilers ahead. If you don't want to know what happens, don't read.) Two moments in the film stand out. The first is in a barn in which Kee, the Fuji woman who is pregnant, reveals her condition to Theo. The wonder in his eyes as he stands trying to comprehend what by this time is considered to be impossible. Suddenly, the stakes of the film shoot through the roof. The second, and most powerful moment in the film, is the day after the baby is born. A revolution has begun in the refugee camp that has been Theo and Kee's stopping place on the way to "The Human Project." The fighting in the camp is heavy and brutal. Theo and Kee are separated, and after a terrible hunt, Theo finds Kee and child on an upper floor of a building under siege by heavily armed government forces. In the midst of the battle, Theo leads Kee away from her hiding place. Suddenly, cutting through the noise of mortar shells and gunfire comes a loud constant crying announcing to everyone there that this woman carries a newborn child. Theo and Kee continue on, and as soldiers storm up the stairs they are traveling down, the soldiers begin to scream for a cease-fire. The battlefield goes silent, and all stand in awe of what they perceive to be salvation for humanity. Hands fill the edges of the frame as the people reach out to touch the child and the mother. There is quiet, the soldiers in full battle regalia hushed, faces all filled with stunned rapture. Worship. I suddenly saw the shepherds in my mind, the magi, Joseph and Mary all speechless before a child who should not have been born, yet was. The child was, as was the baby girl born to Kee, a world's Word of hope, a testament to the presence of God. Even the worst disasters of our time fall silent when that birth happens all over again in the heart of a man or woman paying attention when God walks by. A beautiful film, I thought. Theo ends up giving his life to see the child to safety. I was disappointed, caught up in the moment, wanting along with everyone else to see Theo reach safety, enjoying the new life he'd helped usher in. But I should have known better. Birth requires death, and what greater love is there than to give up your life for the one who will save us all? Theo, of course, is the Greek word for God. ...He so loved the world... 11:28:52 AM    comment []

Monday, November 27, 2006

The Fountain Hugh Jackman in The Fountain As Daniel and I sat watching Darren Aronofsky's The Fountain Saturday night, I was reminded of when I was ten years old (or close) and my uncle Ronnie took Jody and I (I think Jody was there) to see 2001: A Space Odessey. As we emerged into the light of that afternoon, I knew what I had just seen was pretty cool, but I had no idea what any of it meant. Watching The Fountain was just like that--what I was seeing was really cool, and the ultimate meaning seemed to be clear enough, but there were many points in between that I really had no clue about. After reading Jeffrey Overstreet's astute review over at Christianity Today, I figured out I walked into the film with a flawed preconception, and it skewed my viewing, and such preconceptions will. I knew it was about the Tree of Life, and I knew it was about seeking to live eternally, and I knew it was three stories told over 1000 years. My error came in thinking that it was about a single character (actually, two), living 1000 years because of their discovery of the Tree of Life. Well, if you look at it like that, the narrative just doesn't hang together--there are far to many missing pieces to make sense of the images and juxtapositions as a coherent narrative. Overstreet sees three separate stories, linked by theme. It makes more sense that way, but still, there were connections made in the structure of the story that were confusing enough to derail my experience of the film. The central concern of the film is the confrontation with death, and the desire for eternity. Aronofsky approaches his theme by juxtaposing three time periods, three different attempts to defeat death. The story at the heart of the film concerns a medical researcher's (Hugh Jackman) desire to save his wife (Rachel Weisz) from a cancerous tumor. The second story emerges from a novel the dying woman is writing, a novel that is set in 16th century Spain in which the Queen of Spain is locked in a battle with the church over her heretical search for a Tree of Life of Mayan myth. The third story follows the path of an "astronaut" (that[base ']s Overstreet's description) as he seeks to find a source of life in a distant, dying star. All three stories portray our desire for a victory over death, and in the end, each story demonstrates that life swallows up death, that death is a "path to awe", and that the route to eternity can only come through an acceptance of death, embracing it as a part of life's journey. The wife facing death does so with grace and acceptance, saying she is "no longer afraid." The acting in the film was compelling all around, but really, it's all about Hugh. Jackman attacked the role with compelling ferocity, but then, if you're going to take on death, and fight it over 1000 years, you better bring your A-game. He did: it was an emotionally honest and wrenching performance, though there were a few moments when I could almost see him thinking, "I have to cry again?" But his range as an actor is on full display here, and his ability to play epic size sits easily alongside his contemporary presence. (He does a nice lotus position...ah, to be that flexible.) Visually, The Fountain is pretty stunning. From the courts and towers of 16th century Spain to the outer reaches of space, the scenes are rendered beautifully, if without the kind of emotional force I was hoping for. (The Tree of Life and Jackman's vision of it was wonderful, as was his ecstasy over finding it, which made the ensuing turn of events--I won[base ']t spoil it for you--all the more shocking.) One of the more memorable images is also one of the more problematic: a head-shaven Jackman appearing in the lotus position, floating in a bubble, caused a bit of laughter the night we saw it. Overstreet notes in his review that will all the talk about eternity, there is little talk of God. That struck me as well, mostly because of the Tree of Life's connection with Mayan myth vs. the biblical record. Regardless of how you feel about the literalness of Genesis, the connection of the Tree of Life with the Maker of Life is important--if there is a desire in the heart of humanity for eternity, it was either put there by Someone or it is a trick of biology and psychology, leaving us with the romantic notion that there is somehow a life that lasts forever even though life itself has appeared from the mixture of time and chance and nothing. We want forever, just as long as we don't have to go to God to learn anything of it. Would I recommend it? As long as you go looking for something other than a narrative that hangs together, a sort of visual poetry maybe...sure. But I'd see it now, in the theatre--something tells me on the small screen, it won't have the same beauty. That said, I'll probably like it better next time I see it... 3:40:23 PM    comment []

Wednesday, October 18, 2006

Friday Night Lights It's been a long, long time since there was a show on TV that I went out of my way to watch on a weekly basis. Even House, which I love, didn't make me rearrange my schedule to watch it. But Friday Night Lights has me by the throat and the heart. I watched the first two episodes on liine, and even the jittery internet connection didn't put me off. There is something about this series that is so, so right. The first week left me weeping. The second week got me again. Last night's third installment, the first I got to watch on my regular set, didn't quite measure up, but was still compelling. Apparently ratings for the show haven't been very good, but those of us who like it are telling everyone we know to turn it on. Tuesdays at 8:00 on NBC. Friday Night Lights is the story of the fictional town of Dillon, Texas, and the football fever that infects the town. It's based on the real town of Odessa, Texas, which is about three hours down a bleak interstate from Abilene and the house I grew up in. The coach on which the major character of the series is based on ended up going to Abilene and coaching at Abilene High School (I think), where he attended Highland Church of Christ. Even though I didn't play high school football, when I watch the show, the culture they've constructed is so right on that it puts me right back in those growing up years, which is one of the reasons it moves me. It's about home. Listen to this rave from the New York Times: Lord, is "Friday Night Lights" good. In fact, if the season is anything like the pilot, this new drama about high school football could be great--and not just television great, but great in the way of a poem or painting, great in the way of art with a single obsessive creator who doesn't have to consult with a committee and has months or years to go back and agonize over line breaks and the color red; it could belong in a league with art that doesn[base ']t have to pause for commercials, or casually recap the post-commercial action, or sell viewers on the plot and characters in the first five minutes, or hew to a line-item budget, or answer to unions and studios, or avoid four-letter words and nudity. Kyle Chandler plays Eric Tylor, the new coach of a perennial Texas powerhouse team based on the Permian Panthers of Odessa. Coach Taylor is said to have ridden the coattails of Jason Street, an outstanding quarterback played by Scott Porter, and when Street goes down to a devastating injury at the end of the first episode, Coach Taylor knows his job is at risk. This is a football world where losing will not be tolerated. The role of faith in the show is interesting as well. What's cool is that it's there because it's a part of the culture, not because Peter Berg--the writer and creator of the show--has any intention of peddling religion. Faith in all its honesty and hypocrisy is there for the world to see. Turn on the TV... 5:48:21 AM    comment []

Monday, October 9, 2006

Middle School Kids and The TV TV Hurts Kids' School Performance: Study Study backs parents who say "No TV on a school-night" Here's another study suggesting that the average middle school student watches 4 hours of TV a day, and that it adversely affects their performance in school as well as their health. And according to this study, middle school kids watching R-rated movies do even worse. If you know me, you know I'm not a knee-jerk don't-ever-watch-an-R-rated-moved kind of guy. But it seems to me two things are needed: 1. Less time watching TV 2. More time spent engaging what we do watch thoughtfully. 8:53:09 AM    comment []

Thursday, September 28, 2006

Gods and Generals Just a heads up on a wonderful talk given by Ronald F. Maxwell, director of God's and Generals, at George Washington University, concerning the need for and difficulty of telling the truth in historical filmmaking. Go read it here. It's halfway down the page, in pdf format. Someone told me it was worth the read...they were right.. 6:18:48 AM    comment []

© Copyright 2007 Jeff Berryman .