The Last Temptation of Christ

Each year during Lent I make it a point to spend an afternoon with one of my favorite versions of the story of Jesus. Usually it is the original recording of Jesus Christ Superstar, but this year I watched The Last Temptation of Christ, a film that generated a major controversy when it was released in 1988.

Directed by Martin Scorsese (a Roman Catholic, who as a child wanted to be a priest), written by Paul Schrader (from a Reformed background), and based on a novel by Nikos Kazantzakis (who was raised Orthodox), the film is the product of people for whom the story of Jesus is not to be taken lightly. Even though each has issues with the church of their early years, the ministry of Jesus continues to have a role in their work.

The story is not based in the biblical accounts of Jesus, although some of the biblical stories are told here. This is a look at the dual nature of Christ from the point of view of the humanity of Jesus. Since the Council of Chalcedon in the Fifth Century, Jesus has been deemed to be fully divine and fully human. In his novel, Kazantzakis sought to understand the struggle that had to entail. Without ever denying the divinity of Jesus, The Last Temptation (both in the novel and the film) focuses on the very human desires that Jesus could have had. As a man, Jesus was at times in rebellion against what God was calling him to. He does the most despicable job he can find (making crosses for the Romans) to prove to God that he is not worthy. To him, Jesus is an eagle that descends on him with its talons – forcing him to go where he doesn’t want.

Judas is Jesus’ closest friend. He is angry with Jesus for his collaboration with the Romans, and is even sent by the Zealots to kill Jesus, but instead becomes his disciple.

Slowly Jesus accepts the ministry God has for him and as he carries out each new mission, discovers that God has more in store for him. Jesus’ idea of what God wants from him evolves as he becomes more willing to do what God wants. Eventually, but not without the agony of Gethsemane, Jesus chooses to do what God asks of him, to be crucified. As he makes arrangements with Judas for the betrayal, he says that Judas has the far more difficult job.

It is on the cross that Satan comes to Jesus in the form of an angel to offer one last temptation. The angel tells Jesus that he had done all that God wants, and that Jesus can quit now and go on to live a normal life. He leaves with the angel, marries Mary Magdalene and after her death, Mary, the sister of Lazarus. He becomes a father and grows old.

In the midst of this life, he meets Paul, who is preaching about the death and resurrection of Jesus. Jesus confronts him, but Paul rejects what Jesus says, because his message to needed to save people. He tells Jesus that even if he had never lived, he would have to be invented.

When Jesus, now old, is on his death bed, some of his disciples come and visit. Judas is livid that Jesus took the easy way out. It is then that Jesus discovers that the angel who has been with him all these years is really Satan. Is it too late, or can Jesus still do God’s will? Is all this real, or just a dream that Satan gave to Jesus in his dying moments?

It is what happens in the last temptation that is upsetting to some people. The idea of Jesus being so human that he desires and enjoys sex and would even father children is hard for some people to accept. But the church has said since the Fifth Century (and before, really) that Jesus was fully human. Every aspect of his life is based in that humanity. Indeed, one of the issues addressed at Chalcedon and earlier councils was whether Jesus was at all human – there were those who believed Jesus was a heavenly being who only appeared to be a man.

While Kazantzakis and the filmmakers emphasize the humanity of Jesus, it never denies his divinity. In fact, the way he deals with his humanity clearly shows this Jesus to be divine. When I first read the novel, I was impressed that by making Jesus so desirous of being fully human, his choice of the cross was made more meaningful than if he were merely some heavenly being pretending to die, knowing that everything would be okay in the end.

So this year in my Lenten look at Christ, I found again what I think is the best depiction of the sacrifice of Christ ever filmed.

The Best of Youth

I tend to think of films as the equivalent of short stories. When Edgar Allen Poe listed a set of rules for short stories, first among them was that they should be able to be read in one sitting – just like films today. When we hear of our favorite novel being made into a film, we know they’re going to cut so much out that we’ll be disappointed. You can’t tell the story of a two inch thick book in 120 minutes.

The Best of Youth is the cinematic equivalent of that two inch thick book. It covers the life of two brothers (and friends and family) from the mid 1960s to the early years of the 21^st century. It allows the characters to develop. It shows us the good and bad choices made and the consequences of those decisions. Most of all, we get to see the quest for happiness and all the work that has to go into that pursuit. But it is able to do that because it isn’t concerned with that two hour limit that keeps most films in the short story category. Youth takes six hours to tell its story – and it is time well spent.

Here we do not get a slice of life as in many films, rather we get an entire overview. Starting with the two brothers (Nicola and Matteo) as young idealistic students with their futures ahead of them, we follow to the point where Nicola, in the words of the director, “passes the baton� to the next generation. Along the way there are times of joy and triumph, but also times of great tragedy.

This is a story of choices made. Nicola and Matteo take different paths: Nicola off to see the world, then later settling into the comfortable life of a successful psychiatrist. Matteo chooses a life representing order; he joins the army, then later the police. When Nicola’s lover, Giulia, drifts into terrorism as part of the Red Brigade, she chooses to abandon her family, leaving Nicola and their young daughter Sara behind. Later, Matteo begins what could be a life fulfilling relationship with Mirella, but chooses instead to send her away. Giorgia, a young mental patient is temporarily liberated by the brothers in their youth from an asylum where she is being treated with electric shock, but opts to go back to the safety she knows rather than face a world that is full of fear. (Later, Nicola is able to liberate her far more effectively, but she still fears leaving the asylum.)

This is also the story of the way love is a great gift that comes into our lives. The tragic characters, such as Matteo and Giulia, are unable to open themselves to such a deep gift – and that inability leads to terrible consequences through their lives. But love continues to reach out. Giulia often wishes to see Sara, but not to be seen. It is as if she is doing penance for her sins by denying herself love. But just before Sara is to marry, she goes to Guilia and connects in such a way that the mother cannot help but respond.

The film often leaves motivation in the background. For example, when one of the key characters commits suicide, we never know why. We are left, along with friends and family, wondering what could drive this person to such an act. When Giulia, in jail, sends back a packet of music that Nicola had sent (Giulia was an accomplished pianist) after a few moments of joy in imagining the music, we also are left to wonder why she cannot accept such a gracious gift. In an American film, these motivations would have been excruciatingly explained for us. Here, however, we are challenged to understand the complexity of life, happiness and sorrow.

Youth does have a sense of hopefulness, but it is not a hopefulness built on wishful thinking. The hope we find here is the result of pressing on through difficult times and situations. The film encourages us to find our hope in living. It is by overcoming our fears and our bad choices that we are able, in the end, to find the happiness that we begin searching for in our youth. The happiness often comes in bits and pieces along the way; each bit of happiness needs to be cherished. The Best of Youth may well be a bit of joy that can help us along our journey to life and happiness.

The Searchers

Reviewed by Darrel Manson

Many people long for the days when movies were simple and unambiguous. There were good guys and bad guys, and you knew who was who. Those were the wonderful days when John Ford was making pictures starring John Wayne. If that’s what you think, you’ve missed The Searchers, one of the classic Westerns made by Ford with Wayne in the lead.

Wayne plays Ethan Edwards, a Confederate veteran who comes home three years after the war has ended. We don’t know where he’s been those years, but he has a load of money to show for it. For him the Civil War isn’t really over. He won’t take an oath as a volunteer with the local Texas Rangers because he figures you’re only good for one oath at a time, and he made his to the Confederacy. He didn’t take part in the surrender, and still has a saber as a sign of his rebellion.

When a band of Comanches kill his brother’s family and take his nieces as prisoners, Edwards and the Rangers go out after them. Soon, the others go back, but Edwards pushes on, with the companionship of Martin Pawley, a young man who Edwards rescued as a baby.

We soon see that Edwards’s motives in this quest may not be retrieving his nieces as much as it is revenge for what the Comanches have done. When he and the Rangers come across the body of a Comanche, he shoots its eyes out so the warrior can’t go to their version of heaven, but have to wander among the winds forever. When they come across a band that may have the girls, he is ready to attack, knowing the girls will be killed if they do. We discover that Edwards is as barbaric as those he pursues.

For five years Edwards and Pawley search from Texas to Canada for the band that has the one surviving girl (who by now is becoming a young woman). Edwards continues to be vengeful, but Pawley has a conscience. The key reason he goes with Edwards is to prevent the worst of him from acting. And to be sure, Edwards is willing to do terrible things, even to his niece when she is found.

The Searchers has become the template for revenge films. An important part of a good revenge film is the presence of a conscience (like Martin Pawley here). The real conflict is not so much Edwards and Pawley against the Comanches (and other adversaries along the way,) as it is between the two of them over what is right to do in the situation.

A recent film that reflects the issues of The Searchers is Steven Spielberg’s Munich. As the film begins, all those involved believe in their mission of killing terrorists and understand it as righteous. As time goes on doubt begin to arise. First among the various members of the assassin team, but eventually the conflict plays itself out within Avner, the central character. I think there can be parallels drawn between the two films. For example, Edwards shooting out the dead warrior’s eyes is similar to the humiliation of leaving a victim’s nude body for all to see. But most of all the issue of how we retaliate against violence is central to both films.

You see, even those Westerns from simpler times may not be as simple as we think.

Band of Brothers

"His master replied, 'Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master's happiness!" (Mttw 25:21)

I finally got to watch these movies after a couple of spurts and starts. I was supposed to borrow them from one friend and ended up leaving them at his house. Then I was able to watch the first movie from a tape I borrowed, then there was nothing for a couple of years. I finally borrowed them from another friend and watched them all. It took a couple of very late nights and early mornings but I did finish them.

It was all worth it! The movies MovedMe in the usual ways that they move a man. First, a Band of Brothers brought together by a transcendent cause to fight for. Second, a leader (Richard Winters) to admire and aspire to be like. Last but not least the battle scenes, blood, and gore. A great formula for a great man movie.

But none of these are the reason for this blog on Band of Bros. I was most moved by the way that Easy Company was "rewarded" throughout their years in service. From their Bootcamp until the Germans and then later the Japanese surrendered Easy Company was always rewarded with the most dangerous assignments. You may be wondering why I call these rewards...well calm down let me explain.

It all started in Normandy when Easy Company took out three German guns, which later ended up being a text book manuever. It continued to taking cities and then holding the line in freezing fox holes. Even risking life and limb to take some German hostages for seemingly no reason at all. In all of these circumstances Easy Company was always asked to do more, risk more...even going without hot showers, a bed, or a warm meal. These men endured losing their friends, being later led by an incompetent suit of a soldier and so much more. Yet I continue to say they were rewarded every step of the way.

Here's the thing through all of the battles, through all of the hardships, through it all they were asked to do more because they were the best. I believe that the highest form of flattery and esteem for ones skills and talents is to be asked to do more. We find this in sports where the stars are asked to play the most minutes of every game. And we find it in a little parable which I quoted above. Jesus himself tells a parable, as story, of a master who rewarded his most faithful servants with nothing less than the "charge of many things", in other words more work.

This idea to me is quite opposite of what I think I would want for a reward. To me a hard days work would be rewarded by kicking up my feet with a cold drink of some sort. The thought of more work seems the opposite of a reward...it seems like torture. But there it is in this movie and from my Lord's perspective the best reward is more work.

We see it illustrated well at the end of the war when Easy Company turns from combat soldiers to occupation soldiers. All of a sudden they have nothing to do, nothing to fight for, nothing to live for. These men who were wounded and died in honor were dying dishonorably in car accidents and drunken fights. They were leaving to be consultants in Normandy air show re-enactments and sent throughout the countryside to find German officers in hiding. After the valor of what they had been through it seemed so hollow no matter how nice the scenery or how hot the showers.

I was listening to a pastor speak the other day at a men's conference. He made a statement that really made me think. He said he was disturbed with the fact the men, Christian men especially, wanted a life of ease. He said we, men, were not made for ease...we were made for battle, a transcendent cause, for work! I quite agree.

The end of the story, the parable Jesus was telling not the movie, says it best:

Take the talent from him and give it to the one who has the ten talents. For everyone who has will be given more, and he will have an abundance. Whoever does not have, even what he has will be taken from him. And throw that worthless servant outside, into the darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth. (Mttw 25:28-30)

Here's to abundance and more [work] vs. darkness, weeping, and gnashing of teeth [rest]! I am only given this one life to live I want it to be used to the fullest. Rest and redeemed work will come soon enough in heaven. Amen!

Breaking the Mold of Traditional Storytelling

2-17-06

By Mark Ezra Stokes

Director Steven Soderbergh (Ocean’s 12) may have marked a milestone on January 27, when his latest film, Bubble, was simultaneously released in theaters, on high-definition cable and on DVD. Though this may seem like an economic blunder, Soderbergh feels that, through the magic of digital distribution and the availability of films through multiple mediums, theaters could easily download the latest blockbuster, or a forgotten classic, or even a rock concert onto their screens. As a result, filmmakers could do business with theaters directly (avoiding money-hungry studios), and viewers could enjoy their favorite visual entertainment in whatever format they choose.

As I sit in my germ-infested apartment with a stuffy head, a shredded throat and a cup of spicy Ramen noodles, I wish Mr. Soderbergh’s idea had caught on sooner. Luckily for those of us too contagious to sit in a theater, the Internet has caught on, and it has given me access to films that would never surface in the home-video market of Mt. Vernon, GA. Three of these films continue to haunt me like those peculiar images in waking dreams. The films—Koyaanisqatsi, Powaqqatsi and Naqoyqatsi—make up the Qatsi trilogy, a collection of plotless, characterless and dialogue-less journeys.

Intrigued? If you’re like me when hearing the description, you’re probably not. But don’t let the deviation from the norm fool you. Unlike many avant-garde films, the Qatsi pictures maintain a level of understanding through breathtaking cinematography that dazzles the eye, married perfectly with a musical score that carries the ears through appropriate emotional highs and lows. Essentially, we’re exposed to a collection of documentary images edited together in a way that compares or contrasts certain activities. Instead of using traditional montage, which juxtaposes two disparate images to lead the audience to a particular conclusion, this filmmaker keeps the conclusions somewhat nebulous. As a result, we experience something akin to a Rorschach ink-blot test rather than another collection of pretty pictures. Instead of learning the message of the film, we learn about ourselves and how we perceive the world around us.

So, who is this pot-smoking hippie of a filmmaker, you may ask? The name Godfrey Reggio is not a household name, and that’s just how he likes it. Reggio, the trilogy’s director, learned the importance of humility at an early age—a direct result of entering the Christian Brothers, a Roman Catholic pontifical order, at the age of 14. When he emerged at age 28, he had a decidedly different perspective than those around him. Soon after leaving the monastery, Reggio watched Los Olvidados by Luis Bunuel. This experience left him dumfounded at the potential for spirituality in the medium. In his films, Reggio attempts to inject that same level of spiritual truth that goes beyond his own comprehension as a mere human.

Koyaanisqatsi (1983), the first of the trilogy, seems to most adequately showcase Reggio’s Christian tutelage. If the first few minutes of the film seem familiar, that’s because the order of the powerful images follow Genesis 1:1-13 to the letter. Whether this is intentional, one can’t be certain, but it seems to be the perfect place to start: in the beginning. From this beautiful beginning of unspoiled nature, Reggio brings in humanity, and with humanity comes technology. For the remainder of the film, Reggio juxtaposes humanity and nature, showing the power of our technology—power with potential for both good and bad. The word “Koyaanisqatsi� is Hopi for “life out of balance.� Reggio seems to present the ideal balance somewhere in the middle of the film, when both humanity and nature coexist. In the beginning, it’s no fun because we don’t exist. In the end, our technology shows the potential for destroying us, and that’s no fun, either. Thus, the need for balance.

Powaqqatsi (1988), which means “life in transition,� comes next. While Koyaanisqatsi deals primarily with all things Americana (including hot dogs, Twinkies and baseball), Powaqqatsi focuses on the Southern Hemisphere—the Third World countries of South America, Asia and Africa—and how technology affects their ecospheres. While Koyaanisqatsi presents nature and humanity as two distinctly different worlds, Powaqqatsi blurs the lines, showing impoverished people using nature for shelter and being literally burdened by nature (through the loads of dirt, sticks and water they carry on their shoulders). Though technology is an obvious part of their lives (through the tools they use and the gadgets acquired from the Northern Hemisphere), these people still rely on nature for physical sustenance, and at the end of the day, they rely on a higher power for spiritual sustenance.

Naqoyqatsi (2002) (produced by our progressive friend, Mr. Soderbergh) is both the shortest and the most exhausting of the three to watch. Meaning “life as war,� Naqoyqatsi presents a world connected through technology. As a result of such globalization, we fight over our differences. Because this film deals the most with technology, all of its images are either computer-generated or have been somehow altered with a computer. The film has the quickest montages of the three, the most intense images and the most driving music. It intentionally overloads the viewer’s senses at certain points to elicit certain moods. Of course, those moods are determined by the viewer’s particular worldview, but it's the changes in mood that keeps the viewer connected with the progression of the film.

Reggio’s collaboration with Philip Glass, an accomplished composer and Tibetan Buddhist, allows the Qatsi trilogy to further explore the relationship between creativity and spirituality through music as well as through images. The soundtrack and the images are so interrelated, subtracting one from the other would rob the films of any connectivity. But the connectivity is definitely there. For some, the trilogy may represent humanity’s Past, Present and Potential Future. Others may see the films as visualizing Life, Purgatory and Hell. Still others may see the trilogy as an economic equation of the Wealthy Class + the Working Class = Upheaval.

The way one discerns meaning from the films doesn’t really matter. As a representation of life, the Qatsi trilogy reminds us that life is not about determining the answers to every little question. Instead, life is about being aware of the questions being asked, fearlessly asking questions ourselves and taking a journey with the perspective we’ve developed as our only guide. For Christians, a relationship with God is the essential foundation of that perspective—providing an answer to the Ultimate Question so that we may have guidance in determining the other answers as we continue on the journey God has set out before us. The Qatsi films may seem too “artsy� for some viewers, but their celebration of God’s creation and what man has done with that creation can be both refreshing and eye opening at the same time.

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