Movies and Theology - Sweeney Todd

It's disturbing. It's evil.
It's meant to be.
You like horror? Thrillers? Try your hand at this one.
Of course, the music in the movie lacks the talent of a stage version.
To read my review of the movie (no spoilers), go here.
To join in the discussion that looks at theological themes (some spoilers), go here.

Movies and Theology--The Mission

Perhaps everyone in the free world has seen this but me, but I can’t resist a few comments. Excellent, excellent movie. Superb acting with Jeremy Irons, Robert DeNiro, and Liam Nielson. And the area is beautiful--the dangerous but gorgeous falls reflecting the love and calling of God. (Side note: not too long ago, a missions conference was held there as a tribute to the Jesuit's work.)

It’s the story about western civilization in Brazil. Spanish and Portuguese settle in Brazil. At the time, it was Spanish territory, though originally populated by the natives. The Portuguese government supports slave trade. The Spanish doesn’t, although the settlers freely engage in it with their Portuguese neighbors. The Jesuit missions stand between the natives, who are being captured and sold, and the westerners, who are doing the capturing and selling. The Jesuits may not have done everything right—they taught the natives to sing western music (beautifully so) instead of teaching them to praise God with their own music, and their Catholic theology imposed penance for forgiveness. However, they set up plantations that belonged to the natives so that the money made from the plantations went back into the natives’ communities. The Jesuits sheltered the natives from the unmerciful mercenaries. And they incarnated Christ’s love through martyrdom, art, and teaching. Through their lives, in other words.
The movie picks up when the boundary lines are redrawn putting the Jesuit missions in Portuguese territory. The Portuguese don’t like this. Neither do the Spanish. Jesuit missions prevent slave trade, and their plantations combat with plantations that put money into western pockets. The question is: will the Church support the government or not? The pope sends a cardinal to evaluate the situation. In truth, the cardinal comes to persuade the Jesuits to close their missions.
What I love about this movie: in the midst of cruelty, in the midst of the failures of the Catholic Church to protect and serve and love, the Jesuits shine as an example of people committed to loving the Lord and loving their neighbor. It’s beautiful to see a group of priests, each fighting in different ways, standing firm in their beliefs and to see the transformation in their lives because of it.

It's ironic, seeing this movie at this time in my life. The Jesuit priests stood firm, fighting for the people not knowing what would happen to them, not knowing if God would protect their lives or if the tribe would survive or remain steadfast in Christ. Still, the stood. No guarantee exists to tell me, yes, if you keep working hard, God will use your writing and speaking in this way. All I can do is stand firm.

One thing that bugged me in the movie--the music was beautiful, but the main tune reflected a twentieth century sound rather than fitting in chronologically.
If you haven’t seen this movie, put it on your Netflix or Blockbuster account. You need to.

Movies and Theology--The Departed

Chris and I finally rented this movie the other day.
First, let me say that this movies was excellently done: the writing, the dialogue, the directing, the editing, the cinamatography, the acting, the soundtrack--oh, the soundtrack. I must tell you about the soundtrack: at times ironic, at times in your face, but the best thing about it was when they would stop...and that stop would step up the tension. Great job with the music.
And look at the cast: Jack Nicholson, Martin Sheen, Mark Wahlberg (who, although always Marky Mark in my mind, is innumerably better at acting than he was at singing--kudos for finding your calling, Mark), Leonardo DiCaprio (who's acting recalled his Basketball Diary and What's Eating Gilbert Grape? days), oh, who else? oh, of course, Matt Damon, who just gets better and better with each movie, I think, and Alec Baldwin, who seemed a bit odd in this role, no that's not right. His role seemed a bit odd. Too naive, I thought.
The movie is about the crime war: mafia v. the cops.
Except no one knows who is who.
Who's good and who's not. Who's fighting violence and who's feeding it.
There's not much room for God in the streets.
This movie is a study on evil, the manifestations of evil, the devastation of evil, and how evil affects humanity in different ways. Under good-boy haircuts linger dark hearts. In the facade of hitman is a man struggling to do good and tormented by what surrounds him.
Redemption? No. There isn't any. Without God, what redemption can there be?
Justice. In a manner, yes. I'll leave you to decide that.
Pain? Mess? Yes. There always is when evil's involved.
For those looking to rent it--beware of language and blood. Lots of both.

Movies and Theology - Equilibrium

I had no intention of posting this today, especially since I just did those book reviews, and I don’t like to do so many movies and books so close together, but I started writing notes on the movie I saw last night in order to remember points and found myself with a full-blown post (and an even longer sentence). So here it is. No spoilers. I talk about the movie itself and then some thoughts it led me to.

Premise: after a third world war, the powers that be realize that man could not survive a fourth, so they seek to eradicate the cause: emotions. If emotions cause rage and jealousy, and rage and jealousy cause war, then it is better to do away with them, sacrificing love and joy and the like for the sake of so-called peace. People take their injections of Prozium, which I’m sure you’ll recognize as Prozac, to deaden their feelings. No grief, no sadness, the government says. Sense offenders, which are anything from those who harbor works of art such as the Mona Lisa or a book by Keats to those who collect odds and ends like perfume bottles and record players and old Mother Goose books (sounds like my husband’s grandfather) to those who dare to love. The scene that got me: women and children were found rescuing and caring for dogs. They killed the dogs. I can’t handle animals getting hurt. I closed my eyes and tried to plug my ears to block out the yelps. The top cleric (the specially trained agents who seek and kill sense offenders in order to keep order—I’ll get to the whole cleric thing in a minute) sees something that awakens a corner of feeling in him. He plays with it. Stops taking his Prozium (itself against the law), allows himself to linger over the harbored objects of beauty to be destroyed, and aligns himself with the rebellion. The friend that loaned us the movie likened it to The Matrix. I think it’s more like V for Vendetta, personally.

One complaint: the movie did a great job of developing the main character’s character (ha!), growing his feelings and emotions and appreciation for beauty. And it had great fight scenes. However, in the climax, I felt jilted. Things went along too easily. (I tried to comment so much to my husband, but he shushed me so that he could fully enjoy the fighting.) There were two scenes in particular: one the Ordeal, one the Road Back with that death scene climax, that could have been developed and heightened, in my opinion.

Oh, two complaints, really: I had a hard time with the premise, that anyone would accept the wiping out of all emotion as the solution. Without gentleness and empathy, one easily kills (as you see in the movie). And, there seem to be some accepted emotions: pride or anger when it’s on the “right” side, so that seemed to be out of sync.

Props: the ending had a couple of surprises I was not expecting (hence the surprise) but really enjoyed. They did a good job with that. I won’t say anything more.

The movie stars the guy from Swing Kids and Batman Begins (Christian Bale), Boromir from Lord of the Rings (Sean Bean, also in The Island, National Treasure), Benjamin Coffin from Rent (Taye Diggs), and the guy who played Robert the Bruce in Braveheart (Angus Macfadyen). Also, the girl from Punch-Drunk Love and Gosford Park (Emily Watson) was in it, and Lincoln Burrows from Prison Break makes an appearance. (See, isn’t it so much better to go ahead and take care of these things from the start? Now you won’t have to sit through the movie going, where have I seen that guy?)

The governing power outlawing everything beautiful and everything emotional are associated with Christianity. Their symbol is a cross, and their top trained agents are clerics. I find this ironic for a couple of reasons. First, Christians have always maintained that God created emotions as part of humanity. Granted, some weigh logic as better than emotions instead of equal, and very few go to an extreme as to say emotions are bad. But it’s the same with anyone, Christian or not, in our Western Society. Second, we have a Creator God who looked at this beauty He made and said, It is good. He gave us the capacity to create and to appreciate the waterfalls and the sunsets (some even, the sunrise, if you can awake in time) and the snow-capped mountains. He made the rainbow as a promise. He directs us to an end even more beautiful than the beginning, if that can be possible (which, obviously, it is)—more on that tomorrow. Third, technically, this ideology, of getting rid of emotions, belongs to Eastern religions such as Hindu and Buddhist. While the end goal of Christianity is to have perfect humanity, perfect in emotion, reason, and body, each individual personality in its most beautiful state, glorified, in other words (words that the Bible uses), the end goal of Hinduism and Buddhism is getting rid of personality to meld into one, one essence, one nirvana, the One. This sounds lovely, really. I mean, who doesn’t want to be part of the One that flows in everything? But it does mean ridding yourself of your own personality, emotions, reason, body, the whole bit.

This brings me to another point: peace done man’s way v. peace done God’s way. They are trying to control things, forcing a community together to fight, well, fighting. But in their way, they do away with everything beautiful. And it’s controlling, manipulative, and power-hungry, even if their original intentions were good. In God’s way, though, we “fight” with all the things that the government in this movie tries to wipe out: love, charity, gentleness, beauty, selflessness, generosity. God’s way is covert and surprising. God’s way protects the weak and the hurt and the poor doggies (I’m still not over that scene). Which brings us to the role of the cleric. In the movie, the role of the cleric was calculating and controlling while we know that in God’s body, the role of the cleric is shepherding, loving, caring, encouraging, willing to leave the 99 safe ones to go out on a limb (like a shepherd reaching for that stuck sheep) for the one lost. This is the hard (and that darn convicting) point for me. Isn’t it more fun to be with the 99? Isn’t it more gratifying? Isn’t it more strategic, even? Isn’t it just easier? But as a shepherd, we’re called to the lost one. No, the numbers aren’t behind us. Nor is the guarantee. Who knows if that one druggie or one woman who had an affair or one guy who left the church because Friday nights at the bar are more fun or one child who has a habit of biting as his only form of communication or one girl who thinks her only recourse is abortion will come to Christ? Who knows if our efforts will be wasted?

In the end, I think I’ll wait for God’s peace and God’s community, which will be in perfect harmony with Him, each other, and nature, thank you very much.

Update: I knew I'd forget something. Not important, but interesting to me. The main character's breaking point comes while he's listening to Beethoven's third symphony, the Eroica (which is not erotica but Hero) Symphony, originally dedicated to Napoleon, who, of course, is related to the French Revolution. (Later, the dedication was scratched out when Napoleon declared himself Emporer and proved himself to be just another tyrant.) I wonder if the film makers meant to associate that moment and the resistant's movement with the French Revolution.
And Real Live Preacher is right: it's not a particularly great movie, although I enjoyed it and felt it worth the two hours, though I wouldn't put it on my top ten by any means. He likens it to 1984. I would add Brave New World.

Movies and Theology - Over the Hedge

This movie reminded me of an L.L. Barkat post, except that it was two hours, in narrative, and animated. Bear with me a minute here. With humor, and I’m talking literally laugh-out-loud humor, it points out the foibles of an over-indulgent (the raccoon related all our lives to food), independent (cars are necessary because humans are forgetting how to walk, and only one human fits per car), heck, let’s even say gluttonous U.S. society. And then it plays out these faults in the animals, a group of whom discovers suburbia and all its junk food, and one of whom uses the family unit instead of becoming part of the unit.
The film is a commentary on separation of man from man (seen in individualism) and separation of man from nature (seen in the life of suburbia), two effects of the Fall. It presents the dangers of going it alone and doing it yourself (a.k.a. how we do things here in the U.S.) as loneliness and a just plain mean spirit. It presents what was lost the further we get away from nature: beauty and simplicity.
If you haven’t seen it, add it to your Blockbuster or Netflix list whether or not you have kids. It’s worth it.

Screech! The presses have officially halted!

I can't contain myself in my excitement. I just may very well pee myself. And because my husband, as darling as he is, was not properly ecstatic about the news, I had to come share it with you all.

Tim Burton is directing a film version of Sweeney Todd. Yes, that's right, folks, the musical by Stephen Sondheim. I happen to love Sondheim, and Sweeney Todd was my first exposure to him, so I have a special place in my hard for the murderous butcher. In fact, I can't hear the word "thicker" without singing "more like vicar." I did one paper on Sondheim and another paper on Sweeney Todd in college (I loved being a music major!), so I'm ready! To top it all off (I may have to jump around the room a bit), it will star Johnny Depp, my favorite actor. I think I'm going to cry. Johnny Depp, under the direction of Tim Burton, will be going around singing about murders to the lyrics and music of Stephen Sondheim. Can you see why I'm excited? I realize that this news it a bit old hat, but since I'm not so good about keeping up with the latest Hollywood releases, this is as good as it gets. Alas, it looks like I have to wait until January to see it. That's a whole lotta crossed legs.

Attend the tale of Sweeney Todd.

He served a dark and a vengeful god.

What happened then, well that's the play,

And he wouldn't want us to give it away.

Not Sweeney,

Not Sweeney Todd, The demon barber of Fleet Street.

Movie and Theology: Babette's Feast

An international movie from the eighties (I’m behind in trends), this movie portrays where mercy and truth meet and the joy of grace. I will tell you the story, though I hope you watch it. I knew the story before I saw it and enjoyed it. It is slow, but there is a peace in its movement.
The story, set in the 1870s during the French Revolution, is about two austere women who are the daughters of a beloved pastor in a small Scandinavian village and the maid that comes to them. The pastor had died, and the two sisters struggle to keep those left of the congregation together when factions and disputes threaten to shred it. Martina (named for Martin Luther) and Phillipa (for Luther’s friend, Phillip Melangthon) exceed in their good works toward others, taking care of the poor and the forgotten. They love serving God in their simple lives, and they gave up much to do so (including love, money, and fame). After all, their father taught them that the pleasures of this world are distraction from doing God’s work.
One day, a refugee from the French Revolution shows up at their door with a letter from a lover of one of the sisters (to be honest, I never knew which one was which, but it didn’t matter). Her husband and son had been killed. Would they take this woman in? She’s a cook. The sisters tell the woman that they have no money to support a cook, but Babette begs to be taken in, to serve them for free. Moved by her plea, they give in. They teach her to speak the language, cook their food, namely ale bread and fish (which had been dried and needs to soak to cook), and she does. Every day she serves them, though you can tell that the food is distasteful to her. She haggles prices, multiplying the small income of the sisters and allowing them to better serve others. Her one connection to France is a lottery ticket, which a friend renews for her daily.
Fourteen years later, a letter from France arrives, announcing that Babette has won the lottery, 10,000 francs (in that day, quite a bit). The sisters congratulate her, but lament her loss. She is part of the family, and they don’t want to lose her.
Meanwhile, the hundredth anniversary of the sisters’ father (beloved pastor) approaches, and they want to celebrate. A simple meal, as they usually have, followed by coffee. The congregation has deteriorated into petty fights and ancient grudges, and their hope is that this remembrance will knit them back together. Babette asks one favor, the only favor she has asked since she arrived. Let her make the meal, a French meal. They assent, although they have their doubts. Then she must meet her nephew, who owns the boat that first brought her to the village, to make arrangements for the food.
When she returns, she brings fruit and baking supplies and fine dishes and live quail and turtle and a block of ice and the finest wine. Upon sight of the turtle (that looks as if it hailed from the Galapagos Islands), one of the sisters dreams that the meal is from the devil, a witch’s hex. She gathers the others in the church and tells them the dilemma. What has she brought upon their heads? She only wished to grant one favor. They, knowing the transitory nature of such earthly pleasures, agree to go ahead with the meal, but vow that their tongues will be rendered tasteless and not one world will be said about the meal.
Babette slaves over the meal, taking care over each detail. The guests arrive, the congregation and one general, who comes with his aunt. The general has traveled the world over and has developed a distinguishing palette.
Each course is served with a separate wine. They drink the wine and eat the food without comment, as promised, except for the general. He exclaims over each dish and declares the wine the finest he has ever tasted. Real turtle soup! And what turtle soup! Have you ever tasted anything like it? Yes, they answer, much snow is expected this year. He looks confused and returns to his dish. In the kitchen is the coach driver of the general’s aunt (the only nonsimpleton in the village) and a village boy who acts as the waiter. These two receive the “crumbs from the table” and thoroughly enjoy the meal, letting Babette know of its wonder.
In the dining room, the main course comes, each dish its own quail served in a bread bowl with some manner of sauce. The general is shocked. Why, this is [insert fancy French name here]. And he tells the story of a chef, a woman chef at that, at Café Anglais, an expensive restaurant in Paris, who invented this dish. Her cooking, tales tell, and this general confirms, brings together the body and soul and makes eating a love affair. The table nods, dismayed at his use of the term “love affair.” They continue to eat, and as the meal goes on, the old friends laugh together over old fights, bless one another, and remember the teachings of the minister, who taught them love and mercy. The general stands to give a speech. We chase after many things, he says, but here mercy and truth come together, righteousness and bliss kiss. By dessert, the participants all smile their enjoyment of the meal and drink. One frumpy lady, clad in black, as they all are, sips the water, makes a face, then returns to the wine.
After they all leave singing, the sisters rush into the kitchen. What a wonderful meal! Everyone adored it! We will remember this when you return to Paris, they say.
I will not be returning to Paris, Babette says. There is no one left waiting. They are all dead. And I have no money.
But the 10,000 francs!
Gone. Spent.
They look at the dishes and the vestiges of the meal.
I was the chef at Café Anglais, she explains. A meal for 12 costs 10,000 francs.
The sisters don’t understand why she would spend everything for them and go back to poverty.
An artist is never poor. I didn’t do it only for you.
The sisters, one of whom is a singer who gave up the stage for the village, understand and tell her that this is not the end. Someday she will be the great artist God meant her to be, and she will awe the angels.
Tears, tears flowing at this point. Mine, I mean. A beautiful story. It tells of God’s joy in us, the beauty of not just extending mercy, as the sisters always did with a cheerful heart, but in receiving grace, and how in the reception, we bring joy to others. It portrays relationships and the joy in them, rather than the austerity we strive for. (Huh, I’m sounding Kierkegaardesque again. Sorry. Old habits.) It tells of the artist and of service and the peace in creating. And there is this idea that who God created me to be, who I take joy in being, that person will shine, giving joy to others for eternity. Now, in this life, I have the opportunity to be a piece of that. Which is why I’m back at my computer now and leaving you to write.

The Eragon Bus

I'm sorry, guys. I just ain't buyin' it. I can't get on that Eragon bus. I finally saw the movie this weekend with baited breath and all that jazz. Sure, the dragon rider idea had some novelty. I'll give the movie 5% creativity with that. Other than that, let's see, about 60% Lord of the Rings (on whose tails this movie obviously rode), 20% Star Wars (I could list all the parallels, but I'm sure you saw them down to the uncle who raised the boy being killed by the bad guys), and 15% (I would love to list this as higher, but I'm limited to a total of 100%) bad dialogue. Horrible, cheesy dialogue.

Sorry, guys. I know some of you love it all, and I'm possibly making enemies here, but I can't do it.

Movies and Theology - Blood Diamond

Warning: some plot giveaways in the post!!

First of all, some observations: this movie is difficult to watch, as in Hotel Rwanda/Sometimes in April difficult. I sobbed. How can humans do this to each other? And how can we fund it and turn a blind eye? I do not mean to say that you shouldn’t watch it. On the contrary, I highly recommend it. The story is great, the cinematography excellent (as a reprieve from the harsh reality of the situation, our eyes are treated to spectacular views), and this brings me to observation number two: the acting is stellar. I’ve never been much in the way of a Leonardo DiCaprio fan, but he deserves kudos for this one. Almost makes up for that sinking ship one. And Djimon Hounsou. Wow. (For those of you wondering, as I was for a bit of the movie, how you know this man: In America, another incredible movie.)
My third observation is purely about me: A Tale of Two Cities ruined me, I believe. I always want the rogue-turned-hero (or really any hero, for that matter) to die as part of the redemption. I’m still reeling over Tolkien’s decision to keep Frodo alive. He should have fell in that lake of fire and died with the ring. I’m not sadistic, mind you (remember the above tears as proof!), I just like a good death when apropos, when it contributes toward the salvation aspect. After the experience, Frodo never fit in. Blood Diamond gives me that death, and it is completely appropriate. Now, if Djimon’s character died, that would have felt wrong, but Leonardo’s character needed to die, not because he ended up being the villain but because it felt right for him and for me as the viewer.
Okay, so now we have the first plot-revealer out of the way. (Sorry, guys.)
Second of all, the themes of redemption throughout this movie left the viewer with the question: how will you continue to contribute toward the redemption of the world? And, I would like to add, how will you acting toward justice and peace be changed? In the movie, Danny Archer (the rogue) struggles with the idea of doing good rather than grab-all-you-can. Caveat: I disagree with the philosophy in the movie that believes that humans can become good on their own or are inherently good and need to just follow their path. I believe that humans can do good actions, but are not intrinsically good apart from God. But back to the story, up until the end, you don’t know which way Danny will go (which is the makings a good story). However, his character continues to develop as he sees the ill done to humans as ill done to humans. He sees faces, in other words. This, and his choice to follow through with it by doing good, changes him. Then there’s the redemption that leads to reconciliation with the father and son (oh dear, here come the tears). Another plot giveaway (close your eyes if you haven’t seen the movie): the son has been kidnapped by the rebel forces, brainwashed and taught to do horrible things. He becomes a child soldier. And you know it’s coming: the face-off between father and son. The son fails the first face-off. Gives father away. Calls him traitor. Then son has a second chance. Son raises gun (tears are flowing right now as I type this). Father tells son who he really is. “You are my son, and I love you. Your mother loves you, and your sisters wait for you.” The father continues to reiterate who the son really is until the son trades the gun in for love. The most powerful scene in the movie, I believe. And how can I not think of God the Father reminding me who I am when I betray Him, when I rebel and then return as the prodigal? I am His daughter. I am loved. He died for me and gives me and abundant and eternal life in His very real kingdom of peace and justice and harmony.
I don’t remember what my third of all was, but let me say this: the movie leaves you with an impression of the beauty and horrors of Africa existing together. Both run deep. TIA, This is Africa, they say. I highly recommend this movie.