The Forgotten

LINKS
—Overview
—Trailers, Photos
—About this Film
—Spiritual Connections

I would put The Forgotten into the same category as the recent sci-fi thriller Godsend. Take away the modern trappings, and both films could easily have served as episodes in the original Twilight Zone TV series. That would be a compliment were it still 1957. Unfortunately, the same plot devices that worked back then don’t really cut it today. Thus, even though both The Forgotten and Godsend still offer a lot of entertainment value, the films ultimately fail due to half-baked story development and endings that are so conventional you just wish the screenwriters had thought to give M. Night Shyamalan a call. That said; The Forgotten is definitely the superior of the two films. Not only are the premise and script more compelling, the overall look and feel of the film make it abundantly clear that director Joseph Ruben is ready to move on to bigger and better things.

Without giving away too much, The Forgotten is about what happens when a mother who is grieving over her dead son suddenly discovers that all evidence of her son’s existence has disappeared—photos, newspaper reports, home videos, everything. At first, she suspects her husband and psychiatrist of perpetuating an elaborate hoax to help her overcome her grief. But when confronted, they tell her she never actually had a son, that her “memories” of him are a figment of her imagination. Unwilling to accept that she might be going crazy, she sets out on a wild, adrenaline-driven journey that eventually leads to an explanation far weirder than she could have ever imagined.

The Forgotten effectively plays on a number of fears—fear of losing a child, fear of losing your mind, even fear of the government. But most of all, it plays on our fear that the ultimate power in the universe may not be good after all, that “God,” or whoever happens to be in charge, is merely toying with us in one grand, cosmic experiment. While the film does not offer any assurance that that isn’t the case, it does offer hope in the form of a familiar, four-letter word: L-O-V-E. And that is more than I can say about most episodes of The Twilight Zone.

LINKS
—Overview
—Trailers, Photos
—About this Film
—Spiritual Connections

Vanity Fair

LINKS
—Review
—Trailers, Photos
—About this Film
—Spiritual Connections

Vanity Fair is the type of story for which words like “chicanery” and “conniving” were invented. Although this latest cinematic adaptation does not come across nearly as biting or satirical as Thackeray’s novel must have seemed when it first appeared in 1848, it still offers a clear glimpse of how nasty British high society could be to those unfortunate enough to be born without title or class during that time.

The focus of Thackeray’s social commentary is Becky Sharp, daughter of a French opera chorus girl and a talented but unsuccessful artist father. Faced with a limited list of options due to her questionable pedigree, Becky sets out to penetrate the upper crust through other means, mainly by marrying right.
It seems as if Becky were born for this role. And those who hold the keys to high society—the women—are quick to recognize the threat she poses to their ordered, sterile world. As one character remarks of Becky in a particularly brilliant line of dialogue: “I had thought her a mere social climber. Now I see she’s a mountaineer.”

Nevertheless, through a winsome combination of wit and strategy, Becky overcomes their resistance and achieves her goal—sort of. The problem is, as soon as her secret marriage to Rawley Crawley (the son of a minor British noble) comes to light, he is disowned. Things continue to go from bad to worse for Becky. But each time they do, her innate ability to mould and shape the people and circumstances around her saves the day. However, sooner or later such selfish ambition must run aground. And when it does, the only question is, will Becky manage to swim to shore or remain forever marooned on the island of her own hubris? I will leave you to discover that for yourself.

The subtitle of Thackeray’s original work is “A Novel Without a Hero.” While this is not completely accurate (there are some characters in this film that display heroic qualities) it clearly communicates Thackeray’s contempt for British high society. He saw nothing heroic in those who perpetuated the class system or those who tried to penetrate it through guile and deceit.

At the same time, we cannot help but sympathize with Becky. Even though she does not hesitate to stoop low when doing so will raise her up in the eyes of others, at times her actions do seem a step above self-serving. We also can’t stand the arrogance of those who think themselves better than Becky merely through the privilege of birth. It offends our sense of justice. So it feels good to see them get theirs.

But as this film so clearly shows, without love, all is vanity. And despite all that she gains and loses, love is the one thing Becky seems incapable of either giving or receiving—unless it serves her purposes. I cannot think of a better illustration of Christ’s words in Mark 8:36, “And how do you benefit if you gain the whole world but lose your own soul in the process?”



LINKS
—Review
—Trailers, Photos
—About this Film
—Spiritual Connections