Film

The Human Experience

Christy Tennant — Wed, 06 Aug 2008 11:12:57 -0700

One of the coolest things about my job at International Arts Movement is that I get a bunch of opportunities to attend film screenings, read advance copies of books, be the first to listen to new CD's before they're even released, and get to know people who are making art that matters, sometimes before the rest of the world hears about it!

So yesterday, my co-worker Kevin Gosa and I attended a screening of Grassroots Films' documentary film, The Human Experience, and I couldn't wait to start getting the word out about it. I don't know when it will be released (in fact, they don't know when it will be released), but they are scheduling screenings all over the country and are graciously giving some private screenings at their place in Brooklyn (which is how we got to see it).

Check their site. Watch the trailer. See if they're going to be doing a screening near you and, if they are, invite a bunch of your friends and go. I promise you, you will be so glad you did. Its a remarkable film on many levels, from the creative team behind it to the source material.

I was transported back to My Father's House (La Casa de Mi Padre), the orphanage in El Salvador I volunteered at four times from 2002-2004. It was there that I learned how big my capacity for loving others really is.

I was reminded of my two weeks in Nigeria in 2005 (pictured here), where the scenery and the people were reflections of God's beauty and sin's tragedy unlike anything I had ever seen.

And I was inspired to look around my own life here in New York City, where I rub shoulders every day with people who have been dehumanized on so many levels, whether by homelessness, sexual slavery, greed, lust,abandonment, abuse, or simple sinful conditions that make them forget the creator whose image they bear.

Its time for people to be re-humanized, and this film is an excellent example of how beautiful it is when humanity is restored and life is valued.

Kudos to everyone at Grassroots Films, and be sure to go see it first chance you get!

Frozen River: Oscar-worthy indie

Craig Detweiler — Sat, 02 Aug 2008 14:31:16 -0700

Frozen River may be the most moving and relevant independent film this summer. It deals with single motherhood, immigration, and native peoples’ sovereignty in surprising ways. Frozen River presents characters we haven’t seen in situations we’ve never imagined. It bursts with compassion and humanity. But like many earnest and original independent films, it will need plenty of advocates urging audiences to see it.

Frozen River won the Dramatic Grand Jury Prize at the Sundance Film Festival in January. When jury chair Quentin Tarantino announced the prize for Frozen River, he said it “put my heart in a vise and proceeded to twist that vise until the last frame.” It is a riveting story of two determined women, forced by trying circumstances into smuggling immigrants into the United States. Melissa Leo stars as Rae, a working Mom, fighting off poverty with quiet fury. She longs to provide her kids with a new home. Misty Upham plays Lila, a Mohawk woman desperate to get her baby back. They become unlikely partners, traversing the frozen St. Lawrence river that separates the Canadian/American border.

Filmmaker Courtney Hunt has made a remarkably assured debut. Frozen River is taut, heartfelt, and authentic. She and the cast convey such compassion for the characters. It affirms single mothers struggling to pay the bills. It presents a complex portrait of Native Americans. It dignifies people who live in trailers, but strive for something more. Melissa Leo’s powerful, empathetic performance is Oscar-worthy. She burns with intensity amidst the snow and ice.

Set amidst a meager Christmas, Frozen River reclaims the peril of the Nativity Story. It reminds us that Jesus was born as a refugee, on the road, with no place to stay. And it takes a miracle to get everyone through a dark, silent night. Frozen River is a celebration of women, of motherhood, of the undaunted human spirit.

It follows on the heels of another Oscar-worthy film about refugees, The Visitor. It played all spring, earning a modest profit through positive word of mouth. Both films put a human face on the immigration debate, shifting it from national security to personal costs and loss. If the 2009 Oscars were held today, I’d give the Academy Award to Richard Jenkins as best actor and Melissa Leo for her gritty performance in Frozen River. Yet, with cineplexes increasingly overrun by comic book movies, discerning filmgoers will have to seek out and support cool alternatives like Frozen River.

I had the privilege of interviewing the cast and crew at the Sundance Film Festival in Park City, Utah. Our conversation was filled with personal anecdotes and moving stories surrounding the production. This micro-budgeted film has such an abundance of grace. Check out the exclusive podcast at the Kindlings Muse.com.

The Dark Knight: Best of the Decade?

Craig Detweiler — Sat, 26 Jul 2008 12:55:46 -0700

With The Dark Knight’s claims to box-office pre-eminence secured, the spin cycle begins. What does this hugely popular, amazingly resonate movie mean? What is the message amidst all the madness cruising through Gotham’s streets? At HollywoodJesus.com, The Joker is associated with postmodernism and all things relative, making Batman the force for moral absolutes. At Dirty Harry’s Place, Batman emerges as a surrogate George W. Bush, willing to be hated for the sake of a larger mission. Yet, at Beliefnet.com, The Dark Knight is traced back to St. John of the Cross and his dark nights of the soul. Is this the sign of a great movie or merely a conflicted audience? How many readings are possible? How many readings are helpful? What might be the filmmakers’ intent?

The Dark Knight is all about choices. Christopher and Jonathan Nolan embed this comic book universe with the contemporary question: how should we respond to terrorism? Will we suspend civil rights for the sake of order? What are the limits of interrogation? The Joker pushes Bruce Wayne to the brink of his moral code. Batman breaks ankles to obtain information. Do ethics hinder our effectiveness in fighting crime? The Joker is frighteningly free, dangerously untethered. He makes law and order attractive. Yet, he also points out how easily we adapt or rewrite our rules. What happens when our plans are derailed? Do we paint ourselves as heroes to rationalize carefully crafted schemes? The Joker exposes our tendency to justify our actions irrespective of the law. How much difference is there between a mobster, a corrupt cop or an accountant who fudges the books? Don’t vigilante break laws, too? This is about how the world (doesn’t) work.

Casual moviegoers may be shocked by the thematic richness of The Dark Knight. It is far more than an adrenaline rush (although there are plenty of dazzling tricks–sky hook, anyone?!). As Batman chases The Joker down a hole, we are all implicated in this increasingly dark crusade. Interrogation scenes reflect the haunting photos from Abu Ghraib. Will we abandon our moral precepts to gather evidence? Even more horrific are the suicide bombers created by The Joker. His false promises of future glory literally consign people into becoming ticking bombs. We’re snapped back to London and Spain, where a bomb may be planted underneath or even within anyone. It is easy to turn on each other. In a paranoid era, how do we retain our faith in people? Is goodness still viable? The darkness in Gotham threatens to overcome us.

(Warning: Spoilers ahead!)

Just when The Dark Knight seems to have exhausted the audience, Christopher and Jonathan Nolan trot out an old saw in act three. The situational ethics of the sixties gave rise to countless teachable moments about characters adrift in a lifeboat. If a cross section of humanity were caught in a dinghy with limited resources, who should live and who should die? And who gets to stand in judgment? This moral dilemma takes on surprising relevance in an age of wiretapping, torture and Guantanamo Bay. Are some lives worth more than others? Who deserves to be saved? Can’t we eliminate the wrong kind of people? The Dark Knight could have devolved into silliness comparable to the television show, “Survivor.” Who will be voted off the island or thrown overboard? Instead, The Dark Knight offers a surprisingly humane, redemptive conclusion, rooted in prayer and compassion. The Joker gambles on our innate selfishness and loses. Nolan defuses the forgettable fireworks we’ve come to expect from popcorn flicks with something even more amazing: good resisting coercive evil.

The Dark Knight may be the best film of this decade. (It has actually rocketed atop the IMDb list as the best film of ALL-TIME!). It encapsulates all the conflicted feelings swirling around the war on terror. It burrows into our corporate soul and wonders what price victory. As the second part of a longed for trilogy, The Dark Knight stands alongside such troubling sequels as The Godfather Part II and The Empire Strikes Back. It is always darkest before the dawn. Fulfilling the promise embodied by his first features, Following and Memento, Christopher Nolan emerges as the most important director of his generation. I devote almost an entire chapter of my new book, Into the Dark, to Nolan. No one probes the human psyche with more depth or consistency. The cracked mirror he holds up in Insomnia, The Prestige, and Batman Begins convicts us. We are all duplicitous sinners. But Nolan doesn’t stand in judgment above us, but in conviction alongside us. He doesn’t talk down to the audience, but expects us to rise up, to examine the evidence, and come to the haunting conclusion that we are all murderers, thugs, and thieves. We’re all adrift in the same boat, searching for lifeline.

The main contender for finest 21^st century film is Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings trilogy. Both LOTR and The Dark Night offer mythic struggles riddled with temptation. Their action sequences are big, bold, and energizing. Both directors eke out a hard earned hope. Yet, Lord of the Rings looks effervescent and bright compared to Nolan’s Batman movies. While Lord of the Rings suggests that we can only resist evil as a community, bolstered by a fellowship of complimentary gifts, The Dark Knight chooses a more solitary path. He is willing to be hated, rejected and despised for the sake of society. Perhaps they represent the two moods/moments which divide the war on terror.

Lord of the Rings summarizes the first half of this decade. It offers clarity regarding good and bad, heroes and villains. It is rooted in J.R. R. Tolkien’s vision and experience of World War II. War exacted a horrible price, but good still triumphed over evil. Peter Jackson’s Rings trilogy reflects who we thought we were after 9/11. The enemy was clear, the world’s outrage uniform. But when we rushed into Afghanistan and especially Iraq on trumped up evidence without international support, we crossed over into The Dark Knight’s vigilantism. We poured money into new technology, placing our faith in firepower. It looked like mission accomplished. But we attacked as less than a fellowship. Without enough outside accountability, we descended to the level of our enemies. With our plans for quick succession derailed, Iraq edged toward chaos. The Joker drags Batman into a similar quagmire.

An air of dread dominates The Dark Knight. It taps into our fear regarding random terrorist acts. It reminds us of the creepy power of handheld video. One destabilizing force sets off panic in the streets. We all become ticking bombs, likely to explode in public spaces. There is no rationale for this kind of evil. The Joker is beyond greed. He delights in death. As Alfred reminds us, “Some men just want to watch the world burn.” The Gotham police and district attorney Harvey Dent are rooting out corruption, building a case against organized crime. They battle a multi-national, multi-racial crime syndicate that extends from America to Asia. But The Joker breaks even the criminal code, stealing from the mob. What happens when there is no honor among thieves? Perhaps vigilante justice is better when confronting disorganized crime. Batman adopts methods that the authorities cannot. Our problems in Iraq may stem from our strategy. A nation attacked a nation in order to catch a movement. We sent an army to combat isolated individuals. The Dark Knight reflects post-Iraq realities. All are fallen. Most are implicated. Few are spared. The stain of sin and duplicity washes over humanity.

The weakest link in The Dark Knight may be Batman himself. We see him ruminate over the ashes of a smoldering building, but he bottles up most of his struggle. There are hints of personal guilt and responsibility in his refusal to concede to The Joker’s demands. Does Batman really believe there is blood on his hands? While Batman Beginsfocused upon his backstory, The Dark Knight shifts to the origins of Two Face. Harvey Dent is free to vent his emotions and act out on his loss. But the famed bachelor Bruce Wayne must put on a different mask in public.

With Batman hidden by a cowl, Lieutenant Jim Gordon occupies the moral center of The Dark Knight. Like the soldiers who serve in Iraq, his family bears the brunt of the battle. They must deal with the long nights of waiting, wondering, and worrying. Gary Oldman brings a weary determination to Lt. Gordon. He is an everyday cop, familiar with the compromises inherent in the force. When a successful campaign bumps him up to police commissioner, he takes the job out of duty rather than joy. Gordon knows the cost of fighting criminals. It is long, protracted struggle, taking a toll on himself and his family. We feel the weight of his world.

So how do we deal with our fallenness? What solution does Christopher Nolan propose? Bruce Wayne brings his frustration to Alfred, “People are dying. What would you have me do?” Alfred snaps back, “Endure.” But such endurance involves much more than survival. We’re challenged to remain decent in an indecent world. Such choices come at considerable cost. The Dark Knight suggests we can die as a hero or live long enough to become a villain. Neither option looks particularly attractive. Both echo the sacrificial path of Jesus, Gandhi, and Martin Luther King. Their non-violent tendencies got them killed. By the conclusion of The Dark Knight, Gotham’s hope resides in a watchful protector, a silent guardian. He will suffer so that they might retain a hope, a promise, a purpose. Gotham may long for a white knight to save them, but for now, a Dark Knight must suffice.

June Reviews

natebell — Thu, 24 Jul 2008 21:00:50 -0700

Trying to keep up with yesterday's news:

Once upon the early ‘70s, Italian director Dario Argento excelled at fashioning elegant, sinister, psychologically unsettling horror mysteries (“giallo” films, as they were often called), but a steady decline into sadism drove him underground and out of critical esteem. Three decades later, he’s still up to his old tricks, only now the violence has escalated to new extremes while his filmmaking has atrophied, perhaps even taken a few steps backward. Mother of Tears (the ostensible final entry in a series of three, following Suspiria and Inferno) feels obsessively depraved, even for an Argento film, with plenty of eviscerations and exposed brains to offend the eye. It’s unquestionably degrading (for audience and filmmaker alike), but also unexpectedly hokey—a coven of punk rock witches inspires more sniggers than shivers, and Mater Lachrymarum herself is nothing more than a lascivious model in a skanky tee shirt. It seems very unlikely that the trilogy will become a tetralogy.

Kung Fu Panda is a lively, likable Dreamworks animation that satisfies itself with the tired theme of following your dreams and fulfilling your destiny. A perfectly suitable message for kids, but can’t we be a little more creative? The scenes of stealth and attack, aided by the kind of slow motion that only computers can accommodate, are playfully amusing, as are some of the facial expressions (including that of a dentureless old turtle), but Panda’s sudden prowess in the martial arts field is cheaply earned. Dustin Hoffman’s subdued voice performance as a masterly raccoon remains the best reason to see it.

Despite a breathtakingly stupid scenario (plants release deadly toxins causing humans to self-destruct), The Happening is a mildly creepy botanical horror film that takes an apocalyptic scenario and shrinks the scale down to a small group of bewildered characters. The lack of any visible menace allows for some unusual suspense scenes, and although the domestic subplot is insufficiently fleshed out, the basic humanizing message is lumberingly, insistently pedaled. M. Night Shyamalan is a director in search of a screenplay; his words may fail him, but his visual sense never errs.

The Incredible Hulk is more of a do-over than a sequel, effectively sweeping Ang Lee’s bizarre 2003 attempt at comic book mythmaking under the rug. Graciously dispensing with gratuitous exposition, the film still skimps on characterization, possibly the result of a compromised screenplay co-authored by star Edward Norton. The chase-fight-flee, chase-fight-flee redundancies of the narrative grow tedious quickly, although an early steeplechase through a crowded Brazilian shantytown succeeds in quickening the pulse. Though played by a sympathetic Norton, Bruce Banner seems like one of the more problematic of recent superheroes—the filmmakers are unable to make his virtuous self-control interesting.

Encounters at the End of the World is a Werner Herzog documentary shot in Antarctica, and the German director continues to amaze with his ability to find eccentric characters wherever he goes. (Or do they find him?) Among the many arresting sights are a live volcano, a multitude of octopi living under the ice, and a lone penguin inexplicably hurtling toward the horizon (and certain death). As much as there is to occupy the eye, Herzog revisits old thesis statements about the futility of existence a little too frequently, though as is often the case with the director, his camera makes the most eloquent argument.

Driven by a voluptuously probing camera and an insistent, strings-based Ennio Morricone score, The Unkown Woman dives into its complex narrative headlong, barely pausing to catch its breath. The story is an unusually seedy thriller involving a prostitution ring presided over by a bald tyrant (a terrifying Michele Placido), but director Giuseppe Tornatore (the sentimental Italian who brought us Cinema Paradiso) provides just enough human interest to engage the heart. His secret weapon is Kseniya Rappoport, who plays the shady nanny whose designs on an affluent middle class family aren’t clear until the very end. Displaying both quivering vulnerability and steely determination, hers is the kind of performance that critics like to call “fearless,” and one of the few that actually earns that distinction.

THE DARK KNIGHT: Instant Classic

Craig Detweiler — Fri, 18 Jul 2008 20:59:43 -0700

The Dark Knight is the most ambitious and satisfying comic book movie ever, an instant classic. It thrills and chills, combining massive spectacle with timeless questions regarding our humanity. In exploring our disturbing depths, director Christopher Nolan attains unparalleled cinematic heights. It is a feast for the eyes and a challenge to the brain. While Batman battles the Joker for the soul of Gotham City, Nolan pulls audiences into the rarest of responses to a Hollywood blockbuster: genuine introspection. It is a soulful adventure. The Dark Knight explores the cost of combating evil. How many rules are we willing to break to maintain order? How many freedoms will we sacrifice to reign in chaos? The Dark Knight calls us to give an account.

The Dark Knight is a work of heroic imagination. Writing the epic screenplay with his brother Jonathan, Christopher Nolan cements his position as the best director of the 21^st century. In my new book, Into the Dark, I examine why no filmmaker has placed more movies atop the IMDb’s list of the top films of the 21^st century. Nolan documents our capacity for duplicity with unflinching honesty. The Dark Knight pushes past the indifference that often accompanies the summer popcorn movie. But Nolan disturbs our peace out of confidence rather than contempt. He trusts the intelligence of of his audience. Consider the dense, complex plot. Nolan never slows down to explain the multi-leveled machinations of Gotham. He expects viewers to catch up (or at least return for multiple viewings. The Dark Knight is an antidote to the cynical and soulless fourth Indiana Jones film that started this summer of sequels. That digitized disappointment was drenched in empty nostalgia. While Lucas and Spielberg count their first dollar gross, Nolan exposes the cost of wrestling with madness. He wraps the sickness in our souls within a visceral popcorn movie with shocking relevance.

(Beware: Spoilers ahead)

The bank robberies, skyscrapers assaults and high-speed chases in are all top notch. Nolan employed IMAX cameras that offer even greater detail in these breath taking action sequences. Yet, these comic book characters occupy a real world beyond digital effects. We feel each punch, scrape, and crash. The particulars of Chicago are also retained, right down to the Illinois license plates. For a film about organized crime syndicates, Nolan has wisely highlighted the reality of his locations and stunts. We’re exhilarated by the Batpod because its wheels and its path take place among us, in a city we recognize.

While the action pops, the acting gives The Dark Knight such punch. As Bruce Wayne, Christian Bale seems suitably disturbed by his own behavior. The scars on his body begin to take a toll. Batman’s surprise attacks are made possible by his haunting stillness. What is going on behind Bruce Wayne’s playboy mask? Has Batman descended to his enemies’ level? His relationship with Rachel Dawes hints at buried hopes. Is peace possible for Batman? We understand why Rachel seems unwilling to wait. Maggie Gyllenhaal makes us feel every chamber in Rachel’s divided heart.

As the Joker, Heath Ledger goes to a dark, haunted place. The Joker describes himself as an engine of chaos. He tortures and maims his victims for sport rather than profit. His twisted motto decorates a tractor trailor: “Slaughter is the best medicine.” Like other terrorists we’ve known, The Joker preys upon society’s outcasts, offering them a co-starring role in his anarchic play. But they turn out to be pawns in his fun and games.

What makes Heath Ledger’s performance so heartbreaking is the compassion he extends toward the Joker. This scarred scourge arrives on the scene already damaged, devoid of a name or a backstory. He changes his biography depending upon his victim. Whether he was tortured by his father or spurned by his wife, The Joker stands in for everyone who has come unglued via abuse. Ledger’s poignant performance comes on the heels of Oscar winning portraits of evil by Javier Bardem in No Country for Old Men and Daniel Day-Lewis in There Will be Blood. The Joker unsettles like Anton Chigurh or Daniel Plainview, but is even more compelling. Some may link Heath Ledger’s tragic demise to his over-identification with The Joker. Maybe he injected too much empathy into his portrait of evil. He felt too deeply.

The most haunting shot of The Dark Knight is nearly silent, as the Joker leans out the window of a stolen police car, his greasy hair blowing in the wind. Law and anarchy converge in one exhilarating and chilling moment. Rest in peace, Heath.

The Dark Knight’s moral dilemma plays out in the choices of district attorney, Harvey Dent. He stands as the symbol of hope in Gotham. The people’s faith is embodied in his campaign slogan, “I believe in Harvey Dent.” He asks an all too familiar question, “Should we give in to terrorist demands?” Harvey stands firm, inviting us to believe that “The dawn is coming.” His campaign to clean up Gotham has echoes of the faith extended to Barack Obama. Does he represent genuine hope or the beginning of disappointment for the next generation of voters? We need heroes, but what if they don’t deliver? How quickly will we turn and become two-faced?

As Harvey Dent, Aaron Eckhardt avoids his tendency to overplay his hand. His character may unravel as randomly as a coin toss, but the steps are built carefully. Perhaps the confidence and depth of the supporting cast resulted in Eckhardt’s understated performance. Gary Oldman owns his scenes as Lieutenant Gordon. Such quiet dignity commands our attention. Same for the twin pillars in Bruce Wayne’s life, Alfred the Butler (Michael Caine) and tech advisor Lucius Fox (Morgan Freeman). When they speak, we all listen carefully.

These mentors challenge Bruce Wayne to consider the cost of his war. Alfred reminds the Batman that evil will rise when it is attacked. Reason is often the first casualty of such wars. Bruce must consider whether the Joker “is a man you don’t understand.” To illustrate, Alfred reflects upon his life during combat in Burma. How do you disarm those who “just want to watch the world burn?” Alfred’s experience has echoes of the Vietnam War when we burned villages in order to save them. Late in the film, the ethics of wiretapping arise. Lucius Fox bristles at the thought of spying on 30 million people. But Batman holds up the importance of this particular case. Just as pastor Dietrich Bonhoeffer was willing to assassinate Hitler, so the Batman challenges Lucius to sacrifice freedoms to eliminate a larger threat. Christopher Nolan resists the temptation to underline the parallels to our war on terror. We’re left to apply the post 9/11 connections at our own discretion. May Nolan’s faith in the audience be rewarded.

Forgiving the Franklins (and apologizing to the gay community)

Craig Detweiler — Wed, 09 Jul 2008 21:47:05 -0700

A major event in my life came full circle last month. I had coffee with Jay Floyd, director of Forgiving the Franklins. This bawdy, subversive satire premiered at the Sundance Film Festival in 2006. The premise of this homemade, low-budget film intrigued me. This religious sex comedy has just been released on DVD (rated R for “strong sexual content including a scene of abherrant intimacy, graphic nudity, frank dialogue, and some language”–you’ve been forewarned!)

A devout Christian family has a car accident enroute to a church potluck. They are whisked away to a heavenly place where Jesus is chopping down a cross. He has grown tired of seeing the worst moment of his life paraded around people’s necks. Jesus greets the Franklin family and reaches into the back of their heads. He removes a bloody apple and sends them back to earth to continue their lives. The Franklins have been given a new lease on life, free of guilt and shame. Jesus removed their original sin.

They re-enter their Southern Baptist community walking in complete freedom. Mom walks out to pick up the morning newspaper in the nude. She offers her shocked neighbors a friendly, “Hello.” When the Franklins find the sermon at church boring, they feel free to simply walk out. They play in the park instead. The previously repressed Dad becomes an experimental tiger in the bedroom and shares his new sex advice with coworkers. And their son begins a homosexual affair with his football coach. The Franklins are thrilled.

Their church community doesn’t know how to solve a problem like the Franklins. They take some desperate and deadly measures to restrain the Franklins new found freedoms. At the end of the film, while the audience applauded, I wept. Never had I seen Christians portrayed as so venomous. Yet, rather than rejecting Jay Floyd’s vision, I found myself convicted of our corporate sin. At times, the Christian community has propagated a deadly, soul draining religion. We have persecuted and even murdered people in the name of God. The Franklins offered a cracked mirror that reflects our worst tendencies.

As Jay answered questions about the genesis of the film, he offered snippets of his autobiography. He had been raised in North Carolina (like me). His father had been asked to stop teaching Sunday School because he included too much humor. Jay’s homosexuality was condemned by church members. I felt the Spirit of God pressing down on me, urging me to speak.

I stood up. And identified myself as a filmmaker and an evangelical Christian. A nervousness washed over the crowd. They were ready to be attacked. But instead, I apologized to Jay and the entire audience for any evil or judgment poured upon them in the name of God. The entire tenor of the room shifted. The anger dissipated. A spirit of reconciliation was unleashed. Jay was prepared for a fight. He wasn’t prepared for an apology. You can read the complete story in my new book, A Purple State of Mind.

Since that transformative moment, I have had countless discussions with gay people who have chronicled their frustration, their pain, and their anger to me. They’ve poured out their souls and asked for prayer. They simply want to live in safety, comfort and freedom—just like all of us. Many long to find a church that will embrace them. It has been a beautiful rapprochement begun by Jay Floyd’s shocking satire. Forgiving the Franklins led to apologizing to the gay community.

Two years after Sundance, Jay happened across my website for Purple State of Mind. In many ways, Purple State of Mind is an extended apology, a counterbalance to the more contentious versions of Christianity that have dominated headlines for the past decade. We were both eager to reconnect, to talk about where we’ve been. Over coffee, I finally had an opportunity to say, “Thank you, Jay” for creating such a rowdy, rude and life-changing film.

Two Books, One Day

Craig Detweiler — Mon, 30 Jun 2008 19:42:31 -0700

It is rare to get a book published. So it is an exceptionally rare privilege to have two books published on the same day. But on ‘new release Tuesday,’ I have two new volumes hitting the marketplace. They are not twins, but their definitely related: more fraternal than identical in their concerns.

A Purple State of Mind is a companion piece to the comedic documentary, Purple State of Mind. It begins with the questions prompted by my onscreen conversation with John Marks. For those who wanted to see a more aggressive Christianity, it explains why my responses were often open-ended. Each chapter contains snippets of dialogue from the film as a starting point. It allows me to expand on my answers to John’s queries, putting things into a historical context. For example, how do we move past the political rut we’ve been in, caught between those who thought the prosperous 1950s were America’s greatest moment and those who relish the creativity unleashed during the 1960s? Many have grown tired of the rhetoric rooted in old grudges and earlier battle. This election may be the first to be decided by generations born after the advent of the culture wars. A new wave of voters have their feet firmly rooted in the 21st century rather than the past.

My ‘other book’ arriving today deals with the Top Films of the 21st Century (as voted on by the users of the Internet Movie Database). What films are forming the new canon? And what can we glean from a survey of today’s most influential movies? By journeying Into the Dark of the movie theater, can we uncover signs of life and light? I discuss vexing films from the IMDb list like Donnie Darko, Memento, Eternal Sunshine, and Pan’s Labyrinth. I find recurring themes of memory, nostalgia, and communities in crisis. The book was a bit of an adventure, rooted in faith, and filled with some remarkable surprises, particularly in how it connects ancient biblical truths to contemporary cinema.

Early reviews and endorsements have been quite enthusiastic including blurbs like this:

Tony Jones, author of The New Christians: Dispatches from the Emergent Frontier suggested, “Many books on the intersection of Christian theology and popular culture cut to the chase of cultural engagement without taking the time to develop the plotline of theological method. Thankfully, Craig Detweiler takes the time to explicate his method before engaging some of the most compelling films of our day. I’ve had the pleasure of sitting in a movie theater with Craig and of talking about the film over a cup of coffee afterward. Now you have that chance, too, with Into the Dark. I can think of no better companion than Craig to help us reflect on the most important storytelling medium of our time.”

Valerie Mayhew, a writer for The X-Files and Charmed said, “What a refreshing book. Rather than the usual fruitless wholesale condemnation of modern culture, Craig Detweiler has delivered a theologically truthful and joyous exploration of one of the most powerful forces in today’s overwhelmingly visual society—the movies.”

Matt Greenberg, the screenwriter of 1408 and Reign of Fire responded, “I was humbled and inspired by Craig Detweiler’s encyclopedic work. As a Christian screenwriter in postmodern Hollywood, I struggle every day to find the intersection between my faith and my craft. Into the Dark illuminates many such points of cohesion but in places one wouldn’t think—or even dare—to look. Detweiler could have easily restricted his analysis to softer cinema: the anemic family dramas or self-important epics that try to pass as spiritual fare. Instead he chose to find wisdom in film’s most profound shadows. As a result, Into the Dark does more than inform; it invites us to open our eyes and discover the divine in even the most brutal of movies.”

What an honor to feed the cultural stream with these two books!

The Pride of Pixar

natebell — Fri, 27 Jun 2008 00:00:00 -0700

The folks at Pixar have created a filmmaker’s utopia. Working almost entirely without obstruction, they’ve established a work ethic in which artistic integrity is of primary importance, and where a personal vision is given room to flourish. It is an auteur’s paradise—never before has a studio placed so much faith in individual imagination. Each new film has a different feel compliant with the quirks of its director. (Hence, The Incredibles, though clearly the handiwork of many talented craftsmen, is distinctly Brad Birdian both for its aggressive nostalgia and its emphasis on the nuclear family.)

Pixar’s latest project also bears the unmistakable stamp of individuality. The writer-director is Andrew Stanton (Finding Nemo), and he’s fashioned an entirely worthy hero-cum-artistic-foil in WALL·E (Waste Allocation Load Lifter Earth-Class), a lonesome robot with binoculars for eyes and the soul of a romantic. To see him is to love him.

Along with a resilient cockroach, WALL·E is the sole inhabitant of a parched Planet Earth some 800 years in the future. Completely inundated with trash, the human populace has retreated into deep space aboard massive luxury ships while a mechanical maintenance crew (of which WALL·E represents the last) labors to tidy the mess. An acceptable apocalyptic scenario, and a teasingly plausible one.

When he’s not compacting mounds of garbage into small, rectangular cubes, WALL·E is building up his collection of discarded knickknacks and reviewing a battered copy of Hello, Dolly! (apparently the only movie he could dredge up, poor guy). When another robotic visitor, EVE (Extraterrestrial Vegetation Evaluator), descends from the heavens looking for signs of life, WALL·E is entranced. He’s a shopworn PC, all rusty hinges and boxlike limbs, and she, with her smooth alabaster body and sky-blue eyes, resembles nothing so much as a sexy Mac. Together they embark on a corny romance that takes them out of earth’s orbit and into a less interesting movie.

The first 40 minutes or so are an example of what some critics might lazily refer to as “pure cinema.” To wit, a reliance on intrinsically filmic devices (framing, editing, etc.) rather than expositional dialogue to push the story forward. (Only a cameo by a live-action Fred Willard, as a Bush-like world leader, constitutes a cheat.) And the diamond-hard, lustrous, obsessively detailed visuals are equal to Pixar’s impossible high standards. Taken as distinct from the rest of the movie, this enthralling opener ranks with the best work they’ve ever done.

But it’s not to last. The second half reveals the film’s biggest secret—the human race has regressed into a tribe of corpulent, terminally lazy couch potatoes, forever glued to their recliners (which prompts the question of how they manage to procreate). The consumerist nature of their lifestyle (the spaceship is monopolized by a Wal-Mart-ish corporation called Buy n Large) allows for several broad swipes at contemporary society, like one of those Twilight Zone episodes that finds Rod Serling in a preachy mood.

And so WALL·E loses a little something in impact. As satire, it’s not pointed enough to pierce the conscience, and as sentiment, it falls back on the old cliché of having the nonhuman characters more charitable than the human ones. The film is not calculatedly condescending, yet, in attempting to “show the way,” one fears the Pixar people have become a tad didactic.

That said, I still recommend the film highly. From beginning to end, WALL·E runs along with the smoothness of a well-oiled assembly line. There isn’t a single lazy or poorly rendered frame to be found. One only hopes that in the future, the filmmakers would resist the urge point a bony finger in the direction of the audience.

It’s also worth noting that WALL·E is preceded by another fine Pixar short, Presto, about an arrogant magician and his neglected pet rabbit, who exacts vengeance on opening night. Exuberantly violent, it resembles Tex Avery’s cartoon Magical Maestro in both premise and execution.

Fixing Lars

Richard Dahlstrom — Tue, 24 Jun 2008 13:08:01 -0700

"Lars and the Real Girl" is a great movie. Dysfunctional guy buys sex-doll and relates to her as if she's real, but over time finds himself longing for something more alive than latex can provide; it might not sound very compelling, but it somehow is. Casting, acting, script, and direction all combine to create a film so well executed that I was completely drawn in.

"Lars", though, isn't really about Lars very much at all, and certainly not about latex lady. The main theme seems to be centered around the question, "How do we support, help, and empower those with mental illness to move towards healing?" That, of course, is a big question, answered by both the "Lars" film, and another recent film ("Reign Over Me"), in the same way: friendship and acceptance.

In both movies the theme seems to be that healing will happen, in its time, if the right conditions are provided for such. The right conditions, we learn, are: support, unconditional acceptance, love, and relationship. It was beautiful to see the community gather around "Lars" and play along, welcoming the doll into their small town as a genuine member of their community. Indeed, scene after scene illustrated the healing capacities a community can have when, together, they love those in their midst who are in need.

It's all very good and touching. But as much as I loved the movie, when it was over I found myself saying, "Really? Does it really work to simply play along with people's delusions until they come to sense reality? Is that really how this is supposed to play out? Are we supposed to let those who are stuck in fantasy world's remain stuck until, on their own, they see the destructive nature of it?"

I think of Nathan the prophet confronting David with his sin of adultery and subsequent cover up. Far from sharing a few beers and pretending that all is well, Nathan points his bony finger at David and accuses him. Paul does the same thing with Peter. Jesus does the same thing with his disciples...more than once.

No, I don't think that the road to healing always includes jabbing a finger into someone's chest and poking hard until they see the truth. But I don't think it always includes playing along with fantasies either. My problem resides in knowing when 'accept' and 'play along' and when to confront; when to speak and when to be silent. Surely love demands both responses, depending on the circumstance, but knowing which response is appropriate requires more than love; it requires wisdom.

TRACES OF THE TRADE: Tuesday on PBS

Craig Detweiler — Mon, 23 Jun 2008 00:00:07 -0700

What kinds of skeletons may be lurking in your family’s closet? As a descendent of a distinguished founding family in Rhode Island, Katrina Browne decided to investigate her roots. The De Wolf family tree includes senators, architects, writers and ministers. As faithful Episcopalians, the De Wolfs donated most of the stained glass windows in Katrina’s home church in Bristol, Rhode Island. So how did they get so rich and powerful? When Katrina would talk to her relatives, she got vague responses about an “import/export business.” What were the De Wolf’s buying and selling? Katrina discovered she is a descendent of the largest slave trading family in New England.

Traces of the Trade follows Katrina’s efforts to respond to her lamentable roots. What do we do with family secrets? How do we process shame, guilt and responsibility? Nine De Wolf descendents accepted Katrina’s invitation to retrace the De Wolf’s family business, from Rhode Island to Ghana to plantations in Cuba. Traces of the Trade kicks off PBS’s essential documentary series, P.O.V. on Tuesday night at 10 pm. It demonstrates that slavery was not just a southern problem, but an ongoing shame even in “the Deep North.” You can see the trailer here.

As a seminary student, Katrina had no experience actually making movies. But she was a savvy fundraiser and organizer. She hired sharp documentarians to accompany her cousins on their journey. I saw the world premiere of Katrina’s doc at the Sundance Film Festival in January. The question and answer time following the film was quite memorable. She was accompanied by family members, including Tom DeWolf, who wrote an accompanying book calledInheriting the Trade: A Northern Family Confronts its Legacy as the Largest Slave-Trading Dynasty in U.S. History.

Traces of the Trade contains some haunting scenes from inside the historic holding cells in Africa. How tragic to recall how Christians forced Africans into slavery even while baptizing them in God’s name. In Ghana, Katrina and her cousins encountered African-Americans who were also in Africa to retrace their family trees. While the De Wolf descendents wanted to talk about reconciliation, the black families honestly did not come to Ghana to make up with the relatives of slave masters. How do we confront this savage and devastating reality? While talk of reparations has been quite politicized, Traces of the Trade makes it clear just how damaging and far-reaching the roots of the slave trade remains.

One particularly comic/tragic scene finds the cousins back in America, wrestling with their complicity. How guilty should they feel about what others’ have done? One descendent suggests that he came by his station in life honestly, through hard work and good grades. His Ivy League education was not the result of his forefathers’ exploitation of others. Or was it? A quick survey of the academic pedigree of the De Wolf descendents tells a different story. Harvard, Yale, Brown, Stanford—Katrina and her cousins have to admit that their family looks rather privileged after all.

With race looming as a significant factor in the upcoming presidential election, Traces of the Trade arrives at an important juncture. America has a prime opportunity to acknowledge its faults and forge a new future. Traces of the Trade is a film made by white people for white people about our tangled relationship to black people. It is a personal film about an issue that affects us all whether we acknowledge it or not. As a seminarian, Katrina Browne concludes Traces of the Trade with a sermon. Katrina offers a call for reconciliation that challenges the Episcopalians gathered in pews donated by the De Wolf family. Even the most staid Episcopalians demonstrate that they can be moved to tears and repentance. That makes Traces of the Trade a bit of a miracle. Thanks to Katrina Browne and PBS for bringing this unavoidable aspect of our history into sharper relief.