Holy Superheroes!

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One of the great joys of searching for truth in unlikely places is that every once in a while you turn up a gem. Having already read and reviewed two “okay� books—Who Needs a Superhero? and Comic Book Character—that sought to extract spiritual insights from the world of comic books, I had pretty much given up on finding anything substantial on the topic. Then someone handed me a copy of Holy Superheroes! by Greg Garrett, co-author of The Gospel Reloaded.

The book sat on my desk for about a month before I finally picked it up, certain it was going to be “more of the same.� But twenty-six pages in, I began to suspect I had finally hit the jackpot. As it turns out, the world of books is not much different than the world of superheroes: Things are not always as they seem. Just as Lois Lane had no idea that behind Clark Kent’s mild-mannered visage lurked the greatest superhero of all time, I had no idea that Holy Superheroes! would turn out to be not just a great book about the spirituality of comic books. For me at least, it also turned out to be one of the most insightful books I have read on any topic in a long time.

Perhaps part of the appeal for me was that Holy Superheroes! also turned out to be the right book at the right time. The day before I read it, I had written a lengthy reflection on the film Kingdom of Heaven, wherein I discussed the futility of responding to violence with more violence. Seeing as taking such a stance has left me bruised and battered at the hands of my fellow believers in the past, I was feeling somewhat apprehensive, like a disobedient child waiting anxiously for his father to return home from work, not sure if he was going to be swatted or not. However, rather than upbraid me for my audacity, Holy Superheroes! actually affirmed and expanded upon what I had written—pretty surprising considering superhero comics are some of the most violent forms of entertainment around. Lest you think I only liked this book because it agrees with me though, let me share a few other things Holy Superheroes! has going for it.

What Garrett attempts in this book is a “philosophical reading� of comic books, a study of comics to see if they can offer wisdom on how to live our lives. Why comic books? Because they and the superheroes that populate them have become the primary mythology of our society, Garrett says. Even though not all of us read comics, we all know the stories and characters. Our society has chosen reason and empirical data as its primary source of truth, but the power of myth cannot be ignored. And if we do ignore it, it is to our peril. As Garrett says in the foreword, “We’ve gotten in the bad habit of thinking of myth as something false, or at best, untrue—like those old Greek gods and snake-headed monsters—rather than something that is supremely true; we’ve made the mistake of thinking that myth is untrue because it can’t be proven, rather than something that is supremely true because it’s a story that has to be accepted.�

Even though we have turned our back on myth, a part of us keeps reaching out for something to fill the gap that reason has left behind. Where this need used to be satisfied by reading the lives of saints, apostles, and other heroes of the faith, we now read about men and women who have secret identities and run around in skin-tight costumes doing battle with the forces of evil. These are the stories that move us, Garrett says, “the ones we most need to hear to be whole.� How and why these stories lead us closer to the sacred and inspire us in our own quest to do good is the main subject of this book.

Garrett starts by looking at the connection between comics and religion. In this chapter, he shows how comics are really the latest manifestation of the “American monomyth,� which goes something like this: “A community in a harmonious paradise is threatened by evil; normal institutions fail to contend with this thread; a selfless hero emerges to renounce temptations and carry out the redemptive task; aided by fate, his decisive victory restores the community to its paradisiacal condition; the superhero then recedes into obscurity.� He goes on to show how the American monomyth is actually a retelling of the Judeo-Christian story of redemption, a.k.a “the gospel.� Thus, Garrett argues, superhero comics are to be taken seriously, “as seriously as we ought to take every kind of storytelling,� because they can teach us about what it means to be human. Comic books can actually change our lives, for good or ill. Remember that the next time you’re tempted to poke fun at the comic store owner on The Simpsons. Perhaps those seemingly trivial distinctions between Captain Kirk and Captain Picard are more important than you think.

Garrett moves on to discuss our need for heroes and the archetypal shape of the hero’s journey, as it is replicated across time, culture, and religion. The ongoing appeal of superhero stories, Garrett says, is that they are merely the most recent manifestation of this archetype, which seems to be hardwired into our systems. At the same time, he warns that even though these stories may tap into archetypal figures—such as Christ—we should not mistake metaphor for reality. Thus, while we can notice correspondences between Christ and Superman, for example, we should not seek to equate the two. Instead, we should merely ask how these correspondences can instruct and inspire us.

After these introductory chapters, Garrett turns his attention to a number of topics that are front and center in the world of superheroes. First up is the relationship between power and responsibility, a link made clear through the life of Spiderman in particular. Garrett concludes his study by pointing out how even though we aren’t superheroes; we all have power—especially those of us wealthy enough to afford such luxury items as comic books. The question is, are we using our power responsibly?

Truth is the next topic of discussion. Why Garrett failed to bring in Wonder Woman’s magic lasso I’m not sure (her lasso forced whoever was caught in it to tell the truth), but his discussion still bears much fruit. Most notably, he talks about the danger of certainty. “Oftentimes surety can be more dangerous than any enemy you face,� says Garrett. Shocking words, no doubt, for those who still believe in such things as "evidence that demands a verdict." By way of example, he talks about the Nazis and the Japanese militarists of World War II. Both groups were certain that what they believed was right—and the entire world is still trying to recover from the outcome of those beliefs. He shows how certainty inevitably leads to fundamentalism, which, if not checked, leads to holy war in defense of one’s doctrine or beliefs. Truth is far more complex than fundamentalists of any stripe would have us believe, argues Garrett, and our world would be a much safer place if more of us woke up to that fact.

From truth, Garrett turns to justice. In this section, he seeks to expand our definition of justice beyond retribution. While retribution may bring a temporary halt to crime or some other social problem, it fails to deal with the root causes of evil, and it offers no vision of the just society. Using Batman as a model of retributive justice, Garrett describes the price of going down such a path: “Batman’s success as a crime-fighter has come at the expense of his success as a well-rounded human being.� Instead of conceptualizing justice as punishment, a response to a negative action, far better, says Garrett, to adopt the view of the ancient Hebrews, who saw justice as, “an ongoing movement toward equal opportunities for all people, and support for the less privileged, aged, or infirm.�

Garrett’s take on patriotism is perhaps the most subversive section of this book. He describes the concept of “benevolent fascism,� which dominates superhero stories, saying, “The traditional superhero myth suggests that power in one set of capable hands is the surest way to achieve justice, that democratic systems can’t be trusted to perform their tasks alone, that anyway, the hero would never take advantage of those he serves, and that that the world requires American superheroism.� Sounds like something you might see scrawled on the bathroom wall at CIA headquarters—or on the doorplate to the Oval Office. Garrett goes on to offer a critique of American foreign policy, chastising the government and the American people in general for being so narrow-minded as to believe that Americans have a monopoly on truth and justice, that America is not only the last of the superpowers, it is also the most heroic. “Unquestioning acceptance of a truth—any truth—is dangerous,� says Garrett. He urges people not to swallow everything they’re told by the government, even it if means they are branded as unpatriotic or disloyal.

From here, Garrett moves on to only slightly less controversial ground by confronting the problem of evil. He considers what role evil plays in God’s redemptive story, where evil comes from, and how all of us share responsibility for the “evil that men do.� But Garrett doesn’t abandon us to the Dark Side. He also offers a way out, showing that all religious faiths agree that the only way to overcome evil is through unselfishness, compassion, and love.

As an addendum to his discussion of benevolent or “pop fascism,� Garrett also weighs in on vigilantism. After all, virtually every superhero is a vigilante on some level, because they take the law into their own hands. In this sense, heroes are often seen as outlaws as well, as the Batman knows all too well. One of the main reasons for this blurring of lines, Garrett points out, is that vigilantism involves a blend of “extralegal violence and personal vengeance.� Thus, vigilante justice is rarely selfless and, hence, open to suspicion. After all, if the heroes are using the same methods as the villains and are motivated by the same feelings of anger and retribution, are they really all that different? As Garrett says in relation to an incident from Alan Moore's quintessential 1980s classic, The Watchmen, “If you have to stop being a hero to accomplish your ends, then maybe they’re not worth accomplishing.� Or, to put it in terms of Kingdom of Heaven, if you feel tempted to commit a little bit of evil for the sake of the greater good, perhaps you should reconsider whether that “good� really is all that great.

Delving deeper into the root cause of evil, Garrett turns to superheroes like the Incredible Hulk, Wolverine, and Batman to show how the war against evil may often be a symbolic war against the self. He also wonders about our tendency to fear those who are not like us. “Is it part of our nature to try to destroy people who are different from us?� Garrett wonders. “How can we be aware of these feelings and stop genocide from happening again on such a grand scale?� He believes the answers to these questions can be found in, you guessed it, comic books!

Next, Garrett looks at what comics have to say about the apocalypse and how we should live our lives in light of this reality. Despair is always a temptation, but Garrett argues in favor of hope, which is much more than a vague desire for things to turn out right. True hope gives birth to action. “How the world ends up is not up to us,� says Garrett. “But what we do while we’re in it? That part most certainly is.�

Garrett concludes the book with a lengthy discussion on how to bring an end to violence. Garrett argues that, “we love violence as much as we love hatred.� However, even though retribution feels good at the time, it only leads to more suffering. “Violence can shock and awe someone, but it will never change an opinion, right a wrong, or save a soul.� Fair enough, but how are we to respond to our enemies then? Compassion is the answer, says Garrett. “We have to… see even our enemies—maybe especially our enemies—as human beings.� Compassion destroys any false sense of dichotomy between our enemies and us, making it much more difficult for us to hate and destroy. Thus begins the long, hard road to healing and reconciliation. It also turns our attention toward those whom Christ sent us to serve: the victims. Using Alan Moore’s short story "This Is Information" to illustrate this fact, Garrett shows that “the choice between good and evil, between us and them, may be satisfying, but it’s a false choice. Our hands need to be extended to those who are suffering, whoever they may be. But that can be a hard lesson for us to hold.�

Hard indeed, but this is the path that all of us must walk if we hope to be heroes in our world.

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Madagascar

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I’m not sure who greenlit this film for Dreamworks Animation, but I’m willing to bet that person no longer has his or her job. Madagascar has to represent the absolute low point of CGI animated films to date—although I haven’t seen Shark Tale, so I can’t be certain.

What is so bad about Madagascar? For starters, this is a film without a story. At the beginning, it seems like it will be about a zebra named Marty who—along with his companions Alex the lion and Melman the giraffe—escapes from the Central Park Zoo so he can see what life is like “in the wild.� That happens fairly quickly, but then it seems like the (four) writers don’t know where to go from there. One bland scene bleeds into the next until the focus shifts to Alex the lion, one of Marty’s fellow escapees. Far from his steady diet of steaks at the zoo, Alex gets in touch with his inner carnivore. From that point onwards, the big story question becomes: “Will Alex eat Marty or not?� Not exactly the stuff of gripping drama, and hardly something to give your children sweet dreams at night. Bruce the Shark (Finding Nemo) aside, when it comes to animated films, “Friends don’t let friends eat other cuddly, talking friends� should be the rule. They shouldn’t even be allowed to ponder the opportunity.

Apart from lack of story, Madagascar also suffers from an acute lack of humor. Knowing what I do about how animated films are made—with the script finalized and recorded before animation work even begins—it is a wonder that this film was ever completed. What inspired the creative team to keep going? Certainly not the script. I find it even more difficult to believe that three successful comic actors like Chris Rock, Ben Stiller, and David Schwimmer would lower themselves to this material. And for Schwimmer to further typecast himself by playing a mammalian incarnation of his most famous television role… As if life after Friends isn’t hard enough! If all three plead temporary insanity, my only choice would be to believe them.

Finally, the animation style of this film is supposed to be retro, but to me, it merely looks unfinished. However, perhaps the partially rendered medium is an adequate reflection of Madagascar’s half-baked story and message. And what is that message supposed to be, anyway? “Be careful what you wish for?� “Caution: Getting in touch with your inner self could prove hazardous to you and those around you?� “The unexamined friend is not worth eating?� How about: “Six name actors and a colossal marketing effort do not a classic movie make?�

I went into this film expecting a sleeper hit, only to have it nearly put me to sleep. Thank goodness so many people left partway through, because the constant flash of light from the “Exit� door was about the only thing that kept me from nodding off. When I did finally fall asleep that night, I dreamt of Cars, Pixar Animation’s next release. Ah, if only summer 2006 wasn’t twelve long months away…

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Kingdom of Heaven

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It’s exciting to see that Hollywood has not lost its subversive edge. Even though the majority of Americans voted last fall to support the status quo—burgeoning militarism, fear-based “security� programs, and an aggressive foreign policy based on a blend of American self-interest and religious fundamentalism—a growing number of mainstream, big budget films are offering veiled and not so veiled criticisms of the current state of affairs. Fahrenheit 9/11, Team America: World Police, The Village, The Manchurian Candidate, Million Dollar Baby, Hotel Rwanda, The Interpreter, Crash, even Revenge of the Sith are all tremendously subversive and, for the most part, financially lucrative films. While I definitely enjoyed some of these films more than others, what I appreciate about them all is their boldness. Such films naturally polarize audiences, so making them is always a tremendous financial risk. And yet, if you believe strongly enough in your message, the risk is always worth it. Unfortunately, sincerity has no bearing on whether or not your risk pays off. That depends on how large your chunk of the audience is—and whether or not they go to the movies. Subversion doesn’t always sell. But when it does, it usually blows things sky-high.

A good example of where the bomb failed to ignite, however, is Kingdom of Heaven. With a budget of $150 million, this film is doomed to lose money. Three weeks into its release, it is still struggling to crack $50 million at the domestic box office. This is a bit of a mystery to me.
I thought Kingdom of Heaven was a stunning film. Visually, dramatically, thematically, it blew away other recent historical epics, such as Troy and Alexander, like a flaming, Islamic ballista. Even when held up against such modern classics as The Lord of the Rings trilogy or Ridley Scott’s previous sword and sandals film, Gladiator, Kingdom of Heaven reigns supreme. Not only does Kingdom outdo these films on a visual level (Have you ever seen a better blend of CGI and reality?) the story takes us far deeper than these other films were willing or capable of going. Perhaps the only thing missing from Kingdom of Heaven is Russell Crowe. But then again, this is earth, not heaven, so we can’t expect perfection every time. Besides, one Orlando Bloom plus one Liam Neeson plus one Jeremy Irons plus one Ghassan Massoud almost equals one Russell Crowe—almost.

So why did this film fail to ignite? I don’t pretend to have the definitive answer, but I do have a couple of theories. For one thing, Kingdom of Heaven has a high regard for Muslim fundamentalists and a low regard for Christian fundamentalists. Not exactly the ideal recipe for box office success, considering the huge, vacant piece of real estate in downtown Manhattan. It is debatable whether or not Saladin and his army were noble men, fighting for religious ideals rather than land and money, as the crusaders were said to be doing. I don’t know enough about that period of history to offer an informed opinion. However, it is probably safe to say that the Christians of the time were no more and no less barbaric than their Muslim counterparts. No doubt, both sides spilled innocent blood, used spiritual means to justify material ends, and so forth. So even if this portrayal somewhat idealizes the Muslims, at least it offers a nice balance to the majority of films, newscasts, and televangelists that portray Muslims as the bad guys and Christians or Westerners as the good guys—as if we would never stoop to same means to achieve our objectives. Clearly, Kingdom of Heaven is designed in part as an olive branch to defuse animosity between Muslims and Christians and Muslims and the West as a whole. On that level, at least, Ridley Scott and co. should be commended, if not rewarded financially. However, I fully recognize that those who feel like they have been victimized by Islamic fundamentalism may find this argument about as easy to swallow as a bundle of barbed wire.

A second reason why I think this film is failing is that it dares to question the very presuppositions upon which America’s current foreign policy and self-image are based. As I have discovered in a number of my recent reviews, questioning America’s self-proclaimed role as global savior is not the best way to win friends and influence people—especially Christian people. So it’s no surprise that churches weren’t renting out entire theaters and holding altar calls at the end of this film, even though Kingdom of Heaven contains as much or more spiritual meat as The Passion of the Christ. Let’s taste a sample of it:

The hero of this film, Balian, is fond of saying, “Jerusalem is a kingdom of conscience, or it is nothing.� Meanwhile, everyone around him is encouraging him to commit “a little bit of evil for the sake of the greater good.� Even though all of these people profess a deep faith in Christ and a sense of divine mission—“God wills it!� is their battle cry—none of them, not even Balian, seems aware of what Christ actually taught in regard to how we should deal with our enemies:

"You have heard that it was said, 'Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I tell you: Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be sons of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? And if you greet only your brothers, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect."(Matthew 5:43–48)

If they are aware of it, they choose to ignore it in favor of far more temporal goods. “Convert [to Islam] and then repent later!� One priest says to Balian just before he goes out to negotiate a truce with Saladin. Such an attitude on the part of Jerusalem’s religious authorities prompts Tiberius, captain of Jerusalem’s army, to lament, “At first I thought I was fighting to defend God. Then I discovered I was only defending land and wealth, and I was ashamed.� Sounds similar to what many disgruntled Iraqi war vets have been saying…

Before you jump all over me for that last comment, let me say this: It’s easy for me to criticize America for being willing to “commit a bit of evil�—kill and maim thousands of Iraqi and Afghani civilians—for the sake of a “greater� good—American national security. After all, as this film illustrates so clearly, evil only begets more evil. It never begets good. Satan cannot drive out Satan, as my pastor is fond of saying, only God can—and he doesn’t need a cluster bomb to do it! In the midst of all this carnage, the fact that America portrays itself as the source of everything good in the world merely adds insult to injury. Contrary to popular belief, I would argue that America’s foreign policy is the greatest de-stabilizing force in the world, not the golden source of peace, freedom, tolerance, and security that most Americans believe it to be. There is no way it could be, because American foreign policy is based on exactly the opposite of what Christ, the Prince of Peace taught us. It’s all about an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, whereas Christ taught us that retribution is in God’s hands, not ours (Deuteronomy 32:35). Contrary to what many Christians believe, our primary mission on earth is not to stamp out evil. It is to follow Christ and teach others to do the same. That is never, ever done with a gun in one hand and a Bible in the other. And yet how many Christians are blessing America’s military involvements? It simply astounds me. All I can conclude is that either they think Jesus was naïve or, when he was teaching these things, that he was referring to the way things would be in heaven. But it is very clear—in the above passage at least—that Jesus was speaking about the here and now. Why do we find this so difficult to believe?

My political views aside, Jesus also said to attend to the plank in my own eye before picking the speck of sawdust out of my brother’s eye (Matthew 7:3). So the minute my thoughts turn critical of America, my heart turns inwards and asks, “How often am I also willing to commit a bit of evil for the sake of a greater good? Do I fudge a few facts on my taxes to save money? Do I yell at my kids and trample on their wills in order to gain their compliance? Or, when surrounded by the enemy, do I ‘convert now and repent later’?� If I’m honest, I have to admit that I make these sorts of trade-offs all the time. These are the small deaths we die every day. Like Tiberius, I often tell myself that I am living for God. But then something I value is threatened, and I discover that I am only living for myself, for land and wealth, and I am ashamed. Like the characters in this film, I am often more willing to spill blood—either literally or figuratively—than be sanctified by it.

Even the noblest of characters—such as Balian—are not immune to these impulses. He lives according to a code of honor passed on by his father: “Speak the truth, even if it leads to death. Live with impunity so that your quality may be know by all, even your enemies.� With this code as his point of departure, Balian’s aim throughout this film is to take the moral high road, to make things right with God, to find forgiveness for his own sins and the sins of his wife, who committed suicide. He wants peace with God more than anything. But before he can find that, he must find peace with his fellow man. And before he can find that, he must go to war—or so he thinks. Like many great soldiers in history, Balian chooses to fight for a noble cause—the people of Jerusalem—rather than mere real estate or ego. He even threatens to tear down every stone in Jerusalem before he allows Saladin to harm her people. (Sound like another Savior you know?) He is not about to argue with Saladin about whose religion is best. He is merely concerned with preserving life, honor, and all manner of other positive things.

This is in good keeping with the Scriptures, which say, “Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world� (James 1:27). This is exactly what Balian is attempting to do. And yet, when you consider that, on his order, thousands of men were killed and hundreds boiled in oil, it becomes clear that Balian’s defense of widows and orphans is actually creating still more widows and orphans. So what does he really accomplish in the end? Isn’t he actually making the problem worse instead of better? Isn’t he putting a higher value on the lives of his people than on the lives of the enemy? (A distinction we make all the time.)

Thankfully, both Balian and Saladin finally come to realize the futility of their conflict. After all, both men are warriors by circumstance, not by choice. Although they realize the price of peace is high—submission, cooperation, tolerance—they can also see that the price of perpetual war is intolerable. Hence, rather than focus on the things that divide them—the rocks and stones that Balian referred to earlier—they focus instead on what they share in common: a desire for peace, tolerance, security, and freedom. It is through this recognition—that the enemies really are neighbors on so many levels—that a path to peace is forged, at least for a while.

As reflect on this film, I wonder how often we are willing to make this same sacrifice, to lay down our arms, our opinions, and our beliefs, to lay down the things that divide and focus instead on the things that unite us. Are we that committed to finding peace, to following the Prince of Peace? Or are we more concerned with proving we’re right, with protecting our self-interest? On a personal level, I have to say that I fail this test over and over again—with my wife, with my children, with my friends, and with my political and religious leaders. More often than not, I would rather sharpen the knife than bury the hatchet.

This leads me to think about an even greater question: What is my kingdom of heaven? Or, as is asked so many times in this film, “What is Jerusalem?� What is my holy place? What is that thing I am willing to die—or kill—to defend? Whatever it is, at some point, I will be called upon to defend it. And when that time comes, what will I do? How far am I willing to go to protect my “rocks and stones�? Or am I willing, like Balian and Saladin, to lay them aside for a higher good?
Jesus said his kingdom is not of this world (John 18:36); it is not composed of rocks and stones. Later on in the epistles, the Apostle Paul says God’s kingdom cannot be defended with worldly weapons either: “The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world. On the contrary, they have divine power to demolish strongholds� (2 Corinthians 10:4). If this is true, then why are so many Christians committed to defending earthly kingdoms with earthly weapons?

Okay, you may say, if we aren’t to pick up arms, exactly how are followers of Christ to confront evil? Are we to do nothing, to lie down and die, to watch our loved ones do the same? Perhaps, but not necessarily.

As I said in my review of The Interpreter, “Non-violent alternatives have not been tried and found wanting; they have been found difficult and not tried.� Picking up a gun to solve a dispute is quick and easy. Finding an alternative, non-violent approach to conflict resolution is much more difficult, time-consuming, and, potentially, more costly. But does that mean such approaches should be abandoned even before they are tried? I am shocked at how many Christians will not even consider non-violent alternatives to war. Many have gotten angry with me for even suggesting such a thing. I’m not saying I’m perfect in this area (far from it) or that peace will be easy or cheap. Kingdom of Heaven is ample demonstration of that. But if we claim to be followers of Christ—the Prince of Peace—should we not be at the forefront of those who are striving to find ways to love our enemies without killing them, to overcome evil with good (Romans 12:21). If not, can we truly call ourselves Christians (“little Christs�)?

History is bursting with examples of what will happen if we don’t follow the path of peace. But can we learn from this history? Is it too late? Indeed, can we learn from this film? Ridley Scott seems to despair of this fact, seeing as he ends Kingdom with Richard the Lionhearted going off to re-claim the Holy Land once again. Perhaps Scott ended the film this way, because he believes the spirit of the Crusades never really went away, it just went into hiding. Now we are engaged in yet another battle for the Holy Land, only this time the emblem of that land is the stars and stripes, not the fig tree. In light of this, the question every Christian must ask is, “Whom will I serve, God or man? Christ or country?�

At a certain point in this film, someone tells Balian “A king can move a man, but he cannot move his soul.� Wise words, because if you think about it, the soul is exactly where the kingdom of God resides: “Jesus replied… ‘The kingdom of God is within you’� (Luke 17:21). As such, God’s kingdom can never be moved, threatened or destroyed. So, technically, do we ever need to defend it? Not against physical powers. As difficult as it is for me to accept—and as much as it goes against the grain of popular thought—I suspect that the greater good is not necessarily the perpetuation of my individual life, the life of my children or the defense of my country. The greater good is Christ establishing his kingdom here on earth—in our hearts—just as it is in heaven. And a little bit of evil will never, ever accomplish that. If I truly want to become a citizen of Christ’s kingdom, then this is a reality that I simply have to accept.

KINGDOM OF HEAVEN Cinema Pizza Party
STUDY GUIDE:
Great film. People are talking. If you take a group to see the film, here is a free downloadable study guide (courtesy of Reel)

—Overview
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—About this Film pdf
—Spiritual Connections

Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith

—Overview
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—About this Film pdf
—Spiritual Connections

I clearly remember my first Star Wars viewing experience. It was The Empire Strikes Back. The year was 1979. I was eight years old. I still hadn't seen the first film. (I was too young to see it in the theater in 1977, and we didn't have VCRs back then.) So I could hardly wait to finally see my heroes in action.

Just prior to leaving for the theater, I stopped by my older sister's bedroom and said, "Do you realize the significance of the film we are about to see? Do you really?" She looked at me like I was nuts. I probably was.

Once we got to the theater, I don't think I blinked for the next two hours. Never mind the fact that I already knew the story inside and out. I'd read the graphic novel and the storybook, played with the action figures, and discussed the film ad nauseum with my friends. I was primed. And I was not disappointed.

Fast forward twenty-six years: Just prior to leaving for the theater, I turned to my wife and said, "Well, I predicted this could potentially be the best Star Wars film since The Empire Strikes Back--and the first good film in this second trilogy. The critics seem to agree with me, so here's hoping."

As with Empire, I had already read the graphic novel version of this film. And even though that and the trailer gave me some hope that Episode III would finally redeem the first two stinkers in this second trilogy (see my review in the Comix section of this web site), I am sorry to say that George Lucas has let me down again. Who was I kidding? I knew the trailer for this film was too good to be true. Perhaps I should have left it at that.

Honestly--and this is coming from someone who recently started collecting vintage Star Wars action figures again--if this film didn't have the Star Wars label on it and it had been written by a relatively unknown screenwriter, do you really think anyone would have bought the script, much less made it into a movie? Set your nostalgia aside for a moment, and you'll see what I mean. It's okay, you can admit it: This film stinks! Okay, maybe I'm being a little harsh. But I was literally falling asleep during many points in this movie, and I don't think it had anything to do with the fact that I am now 34 and that I was at a 10:00 showing. That's when I usually go to movies, and I never fall asleep! Oh to be eight years old again... Would I have written a different review from the one I'm writing now? Somehow I don't think so. Then again, there's no way I would have been writing a review, because I wouldn't have been allowed in to this film.

Sure, Revenge of the Sith features many of my favorite Star Wars characters, both old and new. It's also chock full of stunning digital landscapes and epic battles. But despite all of this grandeur, the film is about as emotionally engaging as a Tide commercial. Great, George, you finally have all the toys you need to realize your vision. There's just one problem: Your vision called. It said you lost it long ago in a galaxy far, far away.

I know, I should probably stick with tradition and go into the spiritual questions this film raises, such as "How does a good person turn bad?" But I think the only pertinent question here, spiritual or otherwise is, "How does a good filmmaker turn bad?" (For more on the spiritual questions, see my review of the graphic novel.)

I've read enough about George Lucas to know there is an auteur inside of him just dying to get out. THX-1138 is more than ample proof of that fact. So why has George kept that side of himself hidden for so long? Was it money? Power? Fear of failure? Whatever the reason, we--the children of Star Wars--need that part of George to come back out and assert himself. By the sounds of it, George needs it to happen even more than we do.

For that reason, I'd like to give George Lucas some advice that comes straight from the Godfather of roasted chicken himself, Kenny Rogers: "You've got to know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em, know when to walk away, know when to run."

George, you've been holding 'em for a long time. Thank God you're finally folding 'em. It's time to walk away now. Heck, run for your life, George. Thanks for all the great memories, for firing my imagination as a kid, for inspiring me to follow in your footsteps as a professional imagineer. Now please, please go off and inspire us again.

—Overview
—Photos
—About this Film pdf
—Spiritual Connections

Reflections for Movie Lovers

(Matt Kinne, Chattanooga: AMG Publishers, 2004, 418 pages)

Reflections For Movie Lovers is a collection of 365 devotionals inspired by 365 classic films. The reflections are grouped into 52 weekly “film festivals� according to genre or theme; including romance, action, fantasy, sports, sci-fi, foreign, and so forth. Each entry contains basic information about the film (title, MPAA classification, and any awards the film has won), a brief summary of the film’s plot, a scripture reading, a short reflection inspired by the film, and a suggestion for prayer. While author Matt Kinne focuses primarily on films rated PG-13 and lower, he does wander occasionally into R-rated territory when he feels that the spiritual significance of a film, such as Chinatown, outweighs its morally challenging content.

Overall, Kinne’s devotionals display a sincere if somewhat simplistic approach to both film and faith. To his credit, it is difficult to summarize a film’s plot and seriously engage the spiritual questions raised by each film in six paragraphs or less. But perhaps Kinne should have focused on fewer films and done a more thorough job on each. As it stands, what he has managed to create is a cinematized version of Our Daily Bread—spiritual milk for the movie-loving soul.

Kinne’s case is not helped by the distasteful foreword penned by well-known conservative Christian film critic Ted Baehr. In two venomous pages, Baehr manages to dump on anyone and everyone who doesn’t share his version of Christian film criticism—which basically consists of rating films according to how much or how little they agree with his particular point of view. After reading Baehr’s foreword, the only thing that compelled me to keep going was the fact that I happen to know Kinne’s mother. Even then, I balked. Thankfully, Kinne’s obvious warmth and enthusiasm stand in stark contrast to Baehr’s acerbic tone.

If you’re looking for a daily dose of brief, movie-inspired spiritual thoughts, Reflections for Movie Lovers is the book for you. But if you desire a weightier theological engagement with the films you love and the medium of film in general, I advise you to seek out deeper waters.

Dreamer: The Movie

Never heard of this film? Don’t worry. I wouldn’t have heard of it either if first-time writer/director/editor/producer George A. Johnson hadn’t contacted me directly to see if I would like a screener copy. Not expecting much, I told him sure; I’d take a look at it.

When the DVD arrived, I had to smile as I read the first line of the back cover copy: “What do you get when a first-time director assembles a no-name cast to shoot a low-budget movie in an unknown location, using a script that is considered too risky for Hollywood?� I don’t know about you, but the first few responses that came to my cynical mind were, “A piece of crap? The worst movie ever made? Something whose silliness is matched only by its sincerity?� Nevertheless, I popped the DVD into the machine for a look-see. It was one of those rare nights when my wife and I had put the kids to bed early and didn’t have too much on our agenda. As we settled down on the couch, I’m ashamed to say that I was all set for 90 minutes of unintentionally funny moments.

What we got instead—I’m happy to say—is something far different and far better than I imagined. Sure, the production values aren’t exactly breathtaking. But the movie isn’t terrible either. As Johnson says in an interview on the DVD, what he tried to do with this film was take regular consumer equipment and push it as far as it could go. Shot for a mere $23,500 over a three-and-one-half month period, the result is actually rather astounding.

Dreamer is, appropriately enough, about a young guy named Kevin Russell who is determined to make a low budget, non-Hollywood movie. That means no guns, no drugs, no killing, no illicit sex, just good, wholesome entertainment. Kevin feels audiences are hungering for that sort of thing, and he is just the person to give it to them. So, using an old video camera purloined from his grandfather, Kevin sets out on a journey that will pit him against virtually everyone—his family, the filmmaking community, even his friends and cast members. But Kevin soldiers on, facing down all sorts of spiritual, physical, and mental obstacles along the way. Some of these obstacles appear in the form of dream sequences, one of which (involving a school janitor) is so genuinely creepy that for a moment, I forgot this was a low budget film.

Ultimately, this is a movie with a message, and a not so subtle one at that: pursue your dreams, even when it seems like everything and everyone is against you. Fair enough. But tucked away within the film are all sorts of other intriguing metaphors and messages that viewers will enjoy discovering for themselves. Allegory Pictures, the aptly named company that produced this film, even has a “hidden stories challenge� on its web site that helps bring some of these buried treasures to light.

To Johnson’s credit, this film is not only inspiring, it also serves as a good reminder that even wide-eyed visionaries like me can become jaded cynics if we allow our dreams to fester for too long. Rather than wait for the ideal opportunity to present itself, better to follow Kevin and George’s example and work with what you have to create that opportunity instead.
To learn more about Dreamer or to purchase a copy on DVD, visit http://www.allegorypictures.com/.

Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith (graphic novel)

I might as well start by admitting that I thought Episodes I & II were bunk. Lots of eye candy, but virtually none of the epic, archetypal storytelling that made the original trilogy such a bastion of popular culture. After viewing Episode I, I began to suspect that George Lucas had become like the Emperor—so powerful that everyone around him was afraid to tell him his script was in need of serious medical attention. After watching Episode II, I became certain of that fact. But then I saw the trailer for Episode III.

“Hey,� I thought, “This doesn’t look too bad.� And look at all those familiar faces: Darth Vader, Chewbacca, C-3PO, the Emperor, R2-D2…. Immediately, I began to hope against hope that I was right.

Why such irrational behavior on the part of an otherwise rational 34-year-old? The unfortunate thing about most guys my age is; the mythical world of Star Wars was so central to the development of our youthful imaginations that we simply cannot resist every new Star Wars product that comes along. Each time, we hope for yet another visit to that marvelous place of unbridled childhood splendor, and each time we return disappointed and empty. Nevertheless, we keep coming back for more, again, and again, and again.

It’s not entirely Lucas’s fault. What we’re asking for goes far beyond what any film, novel or comic book could offer. We’re like the uncle on Napoleon Dynamite: Only a time machine could truly soothe our pain. But then again, like Napoleon’s uncle, we’re so messed up that a time machine would probably just make things worse. As William Shatner said to his fans in the documentary Trekkies, maybe we should all just “get a life.� Stop clinging to the past. Move on. Get over it. But somehow I can’t. I’m still trying to figure out why that is, but that is a side issue.

My real point is, with millions of fans like me addicted to a pre-pubescent fantasy world brought to us courtesy of Industrial Light & Magic, Lucas can stamp the Star Wars logo on pretty much anything and know he is going to make gazillions of dollars, even if the product isn’t any good. Collectors alone will snap up enough copies for him to turn a profit—just in case they might be worth something one day. Not that I’m accusing Lucas of such villainy. I choose to believe that he loves Star Wars more than anyone else. The fact that the previous two films were painfully mediocre, hyper-merchandised duds is less a symptom that he is taking advantage of our addiction and more a sign that even the greatest among us are not immune to the temptations of the Dark Side.

But back to the comic book adaptation: As far as Star Wars collectibles go, this is a good one. By that I mean it doesn’t reek of something that was created solely to take advantage of Jedi-obsessed fans. Star Wars has been adapted into comic book form from the beginning, even before the days when Star Wars merchandise became almost as lucrative as the films. So this qualifies as a legitimate product in my books.

In terms of production values, this book also rates fairly high. It’s a fast, exciting read with plenty of gripping scenes, especially those that depict Anakin Skywalker once he finally crosses over to the Dark Side. Personally, I prefer a more abstract form of artwork—along the lines of Bill Sienkiewicz, Ralph Steadman or Ben Templesmith. But Doug Wheatley’s traditional art and Christopher Chuckry’s saturated colors definitely make this book accessible to a wider, younger audience, which is probably the primary market for a book like this.

Now to the most important component: story. I don’t want to give away too much here, but I will say this: Surprise, surprise, I do not think my hopes for Episode III were in vain. Based on what I’ve seen in this book, Revenge of the Sith could be the most complex, subtle Star Wars film ever made. Coming from me, that’s saying a lot.

Star Wars has always functioned within a fairly simple moralistic dualism. There are two sides to the Force: one good, one bad. Choosing the good side requires you to become somewhat of a Buddhist, denying anger and other negative impulses—indeed, denying reality itself—and learning to view the world through the eyes of the Force. Only when Luke Skywalker is able to do this can he finally attain the rank of Jedi and overcome the Empire. What makes Luke’s journey so difficult is the constant temptation of the Dark Side. Where Yoda preaches patience; the Dark Side offers immediate gratification. Where the way of the Jedi offers inner peace, self-discipline, and self-sacrifice; the Dark side seduces with the promise of unbridled passion, power, and control.

These same temptations dog young Anakin throughout Episode III. As with Luke, Anakin’s soul becomes a virtual battleground upon which the fate of the entire universe will be decided. The difference here is that the line between good and evil is not nearly so clear. In the first trilogy, it was pretty obvious who the villain was: the big, heavy-breathing guy in the black mask. But in Revenge of the Sith, Anakin is confronted with two groups—the Jedi and the Sith Lords—both of whom claim to have only the best interests of the Republic in mind. The problem is, their visions of the higher good are diametrically opposed. How is Anakin to choose? To make matters worse, Anakin comes to suspect that both groups are merely using him to fulfill their agenda. Needless to say, when Anakin does choose a side, he is transformed into one of the greatest movie villains of all time. But even while some of the darkest forces in the universe are unleashed, a sliver of hope appears—a new hope, as it were—a child.

As I read this final page, I was also filled with a new hope: Hope that George Lucas has finally regained the straight and narrow way; hope that he has finally given his fans what they’ve been longing for; and hope that now the Star Wars series has run its course, I can finally get on with the rest of my life.

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

—Overview
—Photos
—About pdf
—Spiritual Connections

I confess: I have never read The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. I have never listened to the original radio drama. I’ve never seen the TV mini-series. I’ve never read the comic book adaptation. And I have never played the video game. Hence, I wondered if I had any business even reviewing this film. Why not leave that task to the professionals?

But as I watched the movie, I began to think that perhaps I was wrong. Maybe I was the ideal person for the job, seeing as I was not distracted by issues that would have troubled the common fan, such as how faithful/unfaithful the film was to its previous incarnations. (None of which are faithful to each other, so I’m told.) Unlike the majority of viewers, I would be able to evaluate the film according to what it attempted to be—the drollest of droll outer space comedies, what Mel Brooks’ Spaceballs would have been had it been funny and made by the Brits. More to the point, however, I believe my ignorance also allowed me to see something in the film that I never expected to discover, something that may have escaped everyone’s attention until now. In short, I think I have discovered nothing less than The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Gospel. Let me explain.

Arthur Dent, the hero of this tale, is the everyman—so preoccupied by the trivialities of life that when the end comes, he is caught completely unaware. Never mind that plans for the demolition of his house have been on display for a year, and that plans for the destruction of Earth itself have been available for centuries.

Fortunately for Dent, he inadvertently saved the life of the one and only person who can rescue him from this impending calamity—Ford Prefect, an alien who came to earth to conduct research for his article in The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. The Guide is the ultimate travel companion for the interstellar thumb-waggler, the back cover of which reads “Don’t Panic!� in bold, bright letters. At the last second, Prefect and Dent hitch a ride with the very creatures that are about to implode the planet—the evil Vogons, huge, slobbering, bureaucrats from hell. Thus begins a new phase of existence for Dent, who is so unprepared for the rapturous journey that he his is still in his pajamas.

Let’s pause a moment for reflection: Like Dent, all of us have been forewarned that the end of our individual lives—indeed, the end of the world—is an absolute certainty. However, also like Dent, most of us live in denial of this fact, so bound up in the mundane details of life that when the end comes, we are surprised, angry, and afraid. If we had looked into it, we would have seen that it was clear all along, and we could have taken appropriate action. As it stands though, most of us are more like the people Prefect and Dent meet in the bar just prior to lift-off: When the end finally arrives, we simply put bags over our heads, lie down on the floor, and hope for the best.

The good news is; if you form the right relationship before disaster befalls you (with Christ, for example, who, like Prefect, descended to earth and has the ability to save us), you can stand up, take the bag off your head, and face the end of the world and your own impending death with confidence. You will realize there is a life beyond the details, and you will be free to stick out your thumb and hitch a ride on the cosmic express when all is said and done.

Through Dent, we also learn that evil isn’t necessarily the big and scary thing horror movies would have us believe. Evil can also be found in the details, the small, barely discernable choices that slowly lead us off the narrow path and into the wilderness, blinding us to the machines of destruction that are right at our door. We become so set on maintaining the status quo, of satisfying our petty desires (all Dent really wants is a good cup of tea) that we rarely pause to wonder what it’s all about. Hence, life is reduced to a series of mundane tasks punctuated by brief moments of panic when we realize we might not complete those tasks on time. Eventually, these responsibilities can become like the Vogons, huge, ponderous things that threaten to crush us not with sheer strength or superior firepower but with the relentless, agonizing weight of bad poetry read with enthusiasm.

Thankfully, like Prefect, Christ has also contributed his own entry into the ultimate guide to the universe—the Bible—and his message is just as clear as the one on the back cover of the Hitchhiker’s Guide: “Don’t panic!� If you are face-to-face with evil, if life seems chaotic, if you’re drowning in details, if you can’t depend on anyone around you for help or answers, if you are all alone, if you are in any difficult situation whatsoever, don’t panic! Just refer to the guide, and it will show you the way out.

Continuing the analogy, after being sucked into space, Dent goes through a “life after death� experience of sorts. He is even transformed into a new creation (2 Corinthians 5:17)—a sofa at one point, a doll made out of yarn at another. He also gets a taste of hell on board the Vogons’ ship, and he even gets to visit a new heaven (the spaceship “Heart of Gold,� where you need only think of what you most desire and it will appear), and a new earth (turns out the manufacturer created a spare). On the new earth, he is presented with a choice: resume his old life or continue to careen around the galaxy on a wild adventure in search of the ultimate question. To Dent’s credit, he turns his back on the familiar, realizing he was as good as dead anyway, and embraces the great unknown.

We are all faced with a similar choice: Persist down a road that we know leads to death (Ephesians 2:1), or turn away from it and embrace a life of adventure with Christ (Romans 6:23). It is a risky decision either way. But as Pascal pointed out in his famous wager, even if you think the probability of God’s existence is unlikely, the potential upside of believing far outweighs the consequences if you don’t believe and are wrong.

As much as I was amazed by all of these parallels (and there are several more I haven’t discussed) I was most impressed by the way this film deals with the answer to “life, the universe, and everything.� According to the supercomputer constructed solely to solve this mystery, the proper response is “42.� As it turns out, this answer doesn’t do anyone a whole lot of good though, because no one really knows what the ultimate question is. It’s like a nightmare version of Jeopardy.

The answer bothers Dent most of all, because the further he journeys through the galaxy, the more he realizes a number can’t possibly explain all that he is seeing, experiencing, and, most of all, feeling. The answer has to be something more. It has to be about a person, about relationship, about love. Is it a coincidence that he makes this discovery while flying around in a spaceship named “The Heart of Gold� that is captained by a man (Zaphod Beeblebrox) who has two heads, one supposedly controlled by reason and intellect and the other by emotion? I think not. I took this to be Adams’ way of saying that science, represented by the number “42,� certainly can tell us a lot about life, particularly the mechanics of how things work. But when it comes to “Why?� questions, questions of meaning, we must look for answers beyond the physical realm.

Unfortunately, many of us are like Zaphod. We are convinced that to answer such questions, we must first hive off part of our being, giving preference to either intellect or emotion rather than allowing them to work together. As Dent discovers though, Zaphod’s approach just leads to chaos. Only when we reunite the two halves of our being can we truly see and understand life, the universe, and everything in it. Once Dent makes this discovery, he finally finds the hope that has eluded him throughout the film. And that hope inspires him to defeat the Vogons, save the girl, and live happily ever after. The cool thing is, we can experience this same hope as well, if only we are willing to embrace the totality of our existence.

At the beginning of this film, the narrator notes that most things in life are not as they appear. I couldn’t agree more, particularly in terms of this movie. I have always assumed that the main attraction of the Hitchhiker series was its brilliant, satirical humor. However, after watching this film, I suspect that Adams’ appeal goes far beyond his penchant for absurdity and extends deep into his readers’ desire for answers to life’s ultimate questions. In Adams, they recognize a fellow seeker; one who realized that searching for answers is important, but that laughter is a crucial component to finding your way on life’s journey. Too bad his own journey was cut so short.

—Overview
—Photos
—About pdf
—Spiritual Connections