War of the Worlds

—Overview
—Photos
—About this Film

“No one would have believed in the early years of the twenty-first century that our world was being watched by intelligences greater than our own. That as men busied themselves about their various concerns, they observed—and studied. With infinite complacency, men went to and fro about the globe, confident of their empire over this world. Yet, across the gulf of space, intellects vast, and cool, and unsympathetic regarded our planet with envious eyes... and slowly, and surely, drew their plans against us.”

Okay, anything said by Morgan Freeman just has a way of seeming that much more believable. I have a simple code that I live by: blockbusters have to live up to their hype. The fake hype machine surrounding the release of this movie, the Tom Cruise/Katie Holmes (be prepared to be sick of seeing the phrase “TomKat”) manufactured drama is more of a distraction than anything else. This is usually an early sign that there needs to be something besides the strength of the movie to draw (read: distract) an audience.

The last time Steven Spielberg and Tom Cruise got together was for the intelligent science-fiction movie Minority Report, a thoughtful meditation on predestination and free will. In War of the Worlds, Tom Cruise (Ray Ferrier) is in cocky maverick role. Spielberg pulls out all the stops creating a sense of dread and does a masterful job of creating a suspense-filled fear of the unknown. He raises the stakes of his shaken glass of water at his T. Rex’s approach in Jurassic Park. It’s the rare occasion when big budgets and special effects actually increase the terror and realism. The walking tripods are simply amazing to watch.

War of the Worlds is a science-fiction movie that tries to be grounded in drama to give it a sense of urgency. It can’t help but draw comparisons to Independence Day, but whereas Independence Day only sought to be breezy fun (without thinking too hard), War of the Worlds’ meticulous craftsmanship invites thought, but cannot withstand that level of scrutiny. What we have are thinly drawn characters present only to service the action. Cruise plays little more than a smirk that occasionally breaks into panic. The slight letdown of the movie comes because at its core, the movie is as vacuous as its protagonist; for all of the cinematic wizardry, we’re there for the BOOM.

Though Spielberg pulls out all of his tricks (including the little kid in danger scenario), we aren’t overwhelmed. There is no sense of... awe like we had with a Jurassic Park. There’s not the substance of a Minority Report. Without spoilers, there are more than a few Independence Day level implausibilities. The secret flaw that does in the aliens smacks of Deus ex Machina, not to mention the rest of the way-too-contrived ending.

“For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.” Ephesians 6:12 (King James Version)

The threat of the aliens was there all the time, but no one realized it. Part of the threat was buried underground, the rest lay in the heavens above and beyond us. We just didn't see it or know about it until it was too late fend for ourselves, by ourselves.

In this battle against these forces both within and above, most of us are just trying to make it out alive.

“What is your plan, Ray?” Ogilvy (Tim Robbins)

Like the movie Signs, War of the Worlds is a big story told through the eyes of a single family. This one brings to mind what I always think when watching epic disasters/end of the world movies: does anyone really want to survive? Especially if we have only the possibility of ending up a part of the invading aliens' particularly gruesome brand of terra-forming to look forward to? But part of me wanted to see that bigger story rather than be so focused on a lead character that I cared so little about.

There is no rhyme or reason to why Ray Ferrier does anything. He seems to drift through life, going from scenario to scenario, action sequence to action sequence, without much of a plan beyond getting his butt (and that of his kids) to safety.

Such end-of-the-world scenarios also remind me of how too many people reacted to the possible threat of Y2K. People were hoarding food, stockpiling weapons, preparing to survive even at the expense of their neighbors. If something—an other that “draws up plans against us”—takes away our technology, the comforts of the trappings of civilization, man is reduced to his baser, selfish, instincts.

An every-man-for-himself hysteria.

Instead of just trying to make it out alive and fend for ourselves against threats that we don't realize are there until it's in front of us, what we forget is that we need community to make it through this life. And only by looking out for one another do any of us stand a chance of survival.

War of the Worlds is an exciting thrill ride, a well-above-average popcorn movie. This movie is about what happens when all we have is each other. Or, as Morgan Freeman narrates in conclusion, “Neither do men live nor die in vain.”

CONTINUE:
—Overview
—Photos
—About this Film

The Incredible Hulk

—Back to Comix Index

“Tempest Fugit” (issues #77-81)
written by Peter David
art by Lee Weeks
published by Marvel Comics


Peter David (Captain Marvel, Fallen Angel, Aquaman) returns to The Incredible Hulk after over a four-year absence. Originally, he explored the psyche of Bruce Banner/Hulk, adding many layers of depth to what had become a one note (“Hulk smash!”) character. One of the things Peter David accomplished during his tenure was develop the rich cast of characters surrounding the Hulk.

Then, after a 12 -year run, he was abruptly kicked off the book. Apparently Marvel Comics wanted to go in a different direction (next stop, Crap-ville). John Byrne took over the title for a while, beginning his “let me revamp books that don’t need revamping” phase of his career (Hulk, Wonder Woman, Doom Patrol). Eventually the book was handed over to Bruce Jones who turned the book into a Fugitive meets X-Files-styled romp. It was a critically overrated run, intriguing but without a good enough payoff. Atmosphere can only take you so far, especially when the title character so rarely makes an appearance.

The Hulk is commonly portrayed as a Mr. Hyde to Bruce Banner’s Dr. Jekyll, much like in the movie The Hulk, but Peter David had actually extended this premise to a full blown case of (super-powered) Multiple Personality Disorder (a surprisingly not more widespread phenomena considering the nature of super-heroes and their dual identities). Under Peter David, we return to exploring the fragile psyche that is Bruce Banner, not quite knowing where the Hulk persona begins and Bruce Banner ends.

This was one of the reasons why I always enjoyed the Hulk under Peter David: the complexity of a man struggling against himself, his worst nature, and trying to hold himself together, overcoming the psychological torment of his past.

“Do not lie to one another, since you laid aside the old self with its evil practices, and have put on the new self who is being renewed to a true knowledge according to the image of the One who created him” Colossians 3:9-10

This battle between the old man and the new man is exactly the type of war waged constantly in the mind of Bruce Banner. Obviously it’s a battle familiar to many of us. It reminds me of another passage, this one from Romans 7:15-24 (in the version of the Bible called The Message):

“What I don't understand about myself is that I decide one way, but then I act another, doing things I absolutely despise. So if I can't be trusted to figure out what is best for myself and then do it, it becomes obvious that God's command is necessary. But I need something more! For if I know the law but still can't keep it, and if the power of sin within me keeps sabotaging my best intentions, I obviously need help! I realize that I don't have what it takes. I can will it, but I can't do it. I decide to do good, but I don't really do it; I decide not to do bad, but then I do it anyway. My decisions, such as they are, don't result in actions. Something has gone wrong deep within me and gets the better of me every time. It happens so regularly that it's predictable. The moment I decide to do good, sin is there to trip me up. I truly delight in God's commands, but it's pretty obvious that not all of me joins in that delight. Parts of me covertly rebel, and just when I least expect it, they take charge. I've tried everything and nothing helps. I'm at the end of my rope. Is there no one who can do anything for me? Isn't that the real question?”

Therein lies the perpetual dilemma for Bruce Banner. He continues his search for someone or something to make him whole, existing forever at the end of his rope. However, I look forward to seeing where Peter David takes him and the Hulk on their journey.

—Back to Comix Index

Black Panther

—Back to Comix Index

“Who is the Black Panther?” (issues #1-6)
written by Reginald Hudlin
art by John Romita Jr.
published by Marvel Comics

“Previously: There are some places you just don’t mess with. Wakanda is one of them. Since the dawn of time, that African warrior nation has been sending would-be conquerors home in body bags. While the rest of Africa got carved up like a Christmas turkey by the rest of the world, Wakanda’s cultural evolution has gone unchecked for centuries, unfettered by the yoke of colonization. The result: a hi-tech, resource-rich, ecologically-sound paradise that makes the rest of the world seem primitive by comparison. Ruling over all this is the Black Panther. The Black Panther is more than just the embodiment of a warrior cult that’s served as Wakanda’s religious, political, and miliary head since its inception. The Black Panther is the embodiment of the ideals of a people. Anyone who’d dare make a move on Wakanda must go through him.”

Christopher J. Priest (Quantum & Woody, Captain America & Falcon, The Crew) had a brilliant run on Black Panther. Some people criticized his Quentin Tarantino-esque style of storytelling (definitely not straight-forward, chronological narrative). His run explored the complex politics and motivations that came with being a king as well as a super-hero, as well as fleshing out the Wakandan culture. As he puts it:

THE BLACK PANTHER is equal parts social commentary and political satire. Like STEEL and QUANTUM & WOODY, PANTHER takes a hard, sometimes cynical look at the world of super-heroing as seen through the eyes of a Joe Everyman, Everett K. Ross, State Department attaché. T'Challa, king of a small, reclusive and technologically advanced kingdom, comes to America and is paired off with, well, Chandler from the NBC sitcom Friends. Steeped in tradition, tribalism and a deeply-rooted sense of honor, the Black Panther forms an unlikely alliance with the cynical New York lawyer Ross; the two forging a true bond over the course of their adventures together, and evolving into, well, a super-hero team. Ross's surgical observations on the Marvel Universe form the narrative flow of the book, and provide humorous insights into the king and his motives. In addition to the humor, we strive for poignancy, drama, and, of course, the prerequisite super-hero face-bashing.

However, that book was cancelled after sixty-plus issues.

There are too few black writers/creators in the comic book industry. Black characters written by black writers are quickly written off as “black” books (a stigma that isn’t similarly attached to all of the white characters written by white writers; those are referred to as comic books). Rather than ignore a segment of (potential) readership, there is a potential to bring in a new readership, black comic book readers, via an established fan base and grow the entire market.

Enter Reginald Hudlin.

Movie (House Party, Boomerang, Bebe’s Kids, The Great White Hype) and television director (Bernie Mac, the upcoming Everybody Hates Chris), Reginald Hudlin joins the list of directors taking turns at comic book writing (Kevin Smith, Joss Whedon, and soon Bryan Singer); first by inheriting Black Panther and then as the scribe of Marvel Knights Spider-Man. His initial storyline, “Who is the Black Panther?”, follows the now-expected format of introducing a title in a six-issue arc (that’s, coincidently I’m sure, perfect for trade paperback collecting).

Black Panther’s typically used as a supporting character, as a member of the Avengers for example. Only under Priest, and now Hudlin, has the Black Panther been treated as the headliner. He is Africa-based and immersed in that culture, true (and given “our” usual reaction to all things African, “we” will probably ignore this too). Even if the exotic setting of the book wasn’t too much for some, many will assume that because a black writer is writing a black character that the book will be all white-people bashing and woe is us. Actually, the book begins by flipping the script on that very notion.

In the setup, the African nation of Wakanda has historically been isolationist; as such, it has a huge xenophobic streak to its culture. It is suspicious of outsiders and often views them as morally bankrupt if not under-developed. Yes, they view themselves as culturally superior. The Black Panther, in turn, is not the all-American super hero. That’s the point: the Black Panther is a king, not a reporter, not a playboy billionaire, but royalty.

Reginald Hudlin delves into the history and legacy of the character, re-examining his roots through a fresh lens. As a fan of Christopher Priest’s run, I understand the criticisms that Hudlin is scrapping continuity. However, he needs/intends to place T’Challa, the Black Panther, in a historical context before he can figure out where the Black Panther fits in the greater Marvel Universe.

“God works through me the same as you.” T’Challa, the Black Panther.

It is easy to assume that the Wakandan’s are “heathens who worship a panther god.” The Black Panther isn’t a totem, it’s a title, the same as King. Sometimes it takes exploring the roots of our beliefs, the historical context of them, to see if the current incarnation of our spiritual tradition is missing the intended mark. None of us just sprang up. We have a history and tradition attached to us; we’re positioned in Story. Periodically, it’s good to study where we’ve come from, the foundations that our beliefs and identity come from, and figure out where we are in the Story.

As a final aside, last I heard, Wesley Snipes held the movie rights to Black Panther.

—Back to Comix Index

Rising Stars

Description
About the series

I originally wanted to do a review of J. Michael Stracynski’s comic book, Rising Stars, and the television show The 4400 since they cover the same territory and have basically the same sort of spiritual connections. But as there’s already a review of The 4400 (which is essentially Rising Stars: The TV Series, minus the spandex) I can focus on the comic book.

Rising Stars drew some early comparisons to Watchmen, which was fair to neither it nor Alan Moore’s seminal work. The only valid comparison is that Rising Stars, for its 24 issue run, started in 1999 and didn’t finish until this year, which sounds like the release schedule I remember Watchmen being under. With three, 8-issue acts, the story feels a little padded (it could’ve been told in 12-16 issues). However, as long-time fans of Stracynski know, he does character-, not necessarily plot-, driven stories (Amazing Spider-man, Babylon 5).

Rising Stars follows the journey of 113 people. A force struck the town of Pederson, Illinois—an event referred to as The Flash—and every in utero baby at the time was affected. Cloistered together, to be studied and for society’s protection, they grew up together. Some became heroes, some criminals, and some tried to be ordinary. The story is about a group of people given gifts, how they touched the world, and how the world touched them.

“The power was different for each of us, formed and shaped by our personalities just as we were shaped by the power.” Poet

What we come to find out is that their energy, the source of their powers, binds them. It was also not inexhaustible: as they use their abilities, they drain that “battery.” However, when one of them dies, that person’s energy is transferred equally to the rest of them. Or, as Poet put it,“We are finite in number and duration.” This is an important aspect of the series, as it provides the motivation behind a lot of the Specials' internecine squabbles, as well as stoking the fears of the rest of the world.

“We’re in a spiritual war, a war of possibilities, one world or another and nothing in-between. Well that war has just come knocking on our front door, son. It’s time to take a side, and that’s just what we’re going to do.” Reverend William Kane

As previously mentioned, the series is made up of three, 8-issue acts. Act I traces the development of the Specials from accepted (albeit suspicious) anomalies to a threat. This is when they suspect that they have a call, that the power that imbued them was conscious at some level, directed, and gave out their gifts with a purpose. During Act II, the Specials wage a war within their ranks. Only through much bloodshed is their higher calling glimpsed and they figure out their purpose: a mission to change the world. As Patriot puts it, “The time for words is over. Time now to make a difference. Time to go to work.” Act III sees them fulfill their mission and what it means to the world.

“We cannot change the world... if we do not begin with ourselves.” Poet

The Specials are “the elect.” The term “elect” is one of those Bible words that signifies a group that has been picked out or chosen. The Church, the world-wide body of people who claim to follow Christ, is sometimes considered the elect. Too often this has led to having the attitude and image of the church as a country club because those that have been elected, or chosen, have forgotten that they have been called for a purpose, not to form a club that keeps “undesirables” out.

More pointedly, the Specials, during the second Act, can’t act as a unified body. Their gifts are squandered in petty bickering, endless divisions, and power brokering. Almost too late do they realize that they have been gathered in order to be sent. The Church, too, needs to be missional, to be a particular people, empowered for the sake of the world. They need to remember that they are filled with God’s power and presence and purpose. They are to work towards a new heaven and new earth, to set an example, and to lead the mission while inviting others to join.

For too long, the Specials had retreated from the world, into their “Special ghetto,” never engaging with the world around them. All this taught them was to fear the world and they had little to no sense of how to relate to it.

The good news was that there was still time for them to fulfill their purpose.

“Free yourself from the burden of my fear... from the concerns of an old man. Look at the world anew.” Dr. Welles

The Specials from Rising Stars, like The 4400, are a perfect picture of the Church. They are to be a force unlike the world has ever seen. We each have our own gifts and an obligation to use them. We can say all we want, talk as good a game as anyone else, but when all is said and done, it is what we do with our gifts that define who we are.

Description
About the series

Preacher

Back to Comix Index

Preacher was the inheritor of the intelligent title void left when Neil Gaiman’s Sandman run ended. Preacher was on my list of things probably too sacrilegious for me to engage with, must less be entertained by, when it first came out. The list was essentially Preacher and the movie Life of Brian. I realize that this might sound like an odd stance for a horror writer to have, but, if nothing else, I’m all about freedoms. We’re free to draw moral and comfort lines for ourselves, but we shouldn’t make our personal lines the demarcation for all people. I drew my line there, but this was back in the early 1990s. Obviously, I was in a different place in my faith walk then and I have since gotten to a point where I thought that I could “handle it.”

This also serves as my “fair warning” that this work isn’t for everyone.

Garth Ennis has always been hit and miss for me. He’s a maestro of violence and mayhem, as seen in his Punisher run, but even that can become tedious when he’s exhausted everything he has to say and the violence seems so pointless. When he’s on, he’s on (Unknown Soldier, Hitman); when he’s off, well, let’s leave it at I still haven’t forgiven him for Goddess. [For those waiting for me to comment on his Hellblazer run, I have so many feelings over that title, both good and bad, that it would require its own review.]

Joe Lansdale, a horror writer who knows a thing or two about injecting fun and mayhem into a work, says in his introduction to the first collected volume of Preacher, “It’s our chance to look at the dark side without having to be a part of it.” Preacher has the feel and rhythm of a western, the language and tropes of the horror universe, and more than a dollop of a crime spree yarn tossed in. However, when all is said and done, Preacher is about one man’s search for God. That’s not me making a spiritual leap, that’s seriously the plot of the book. Jesse Custer—J.C., get it?—was a small town preacher losing his faith because what few members of the town that bothered to show up on Sundays did so to sing a few hymns and “then act like savages for the rest of the week.”

This pointed to a deeper problem to him: God had abandoned His creation.

So he decides to search for God: “I’m looking for the Lord ‘cause I figure He’s deserted His creation. I aim to bring Him to book for that little transgression: to confront Him and hear His answer to that charge. He has a obligation to do right by the world He’s made an’ the folks He’s peopled it with. He quits an’ runs, He ain’t facin’ up to His responsibilities.”

“There’s two good places you can look for God: in church or at the bottom of a bottle.” Tulip O’Hare.

So with his gun-toting girlfriend, Tulip O’Hare, and a hard-drinking Irish vampire-cum-best friend, (Proinsias) Cassidy, he heads out. Now’s when I have to explain a bit of the mythology of the comic book, and it’s not nearly as simple as “a guy got bitten by a radioactive spider.” Jesse merges with the spirit of Genesis—the spawn of an angel and a demon, a mix of heaven and hell—which represents a new idea, one that God is afraid of. Genesis gives Jesse the power of the word of the Lord, the word that must be obeyed.

[God left the seraphi (warrior archangels) in charge with the adephi (lesser angels/scientists) doing all the real work. The cast of characters in the book also include the surprising beloved figure, Arsehole Face, and the Saint of Killers (the patron saint of murderers and assassins). Sample storylines include a romp through sexual perversity (the Gomorrah People) and Jesse’s pursuit by Herr Starr, of The Grail, a group so focused on the Apocalypse that they fool themselves into thinking that they are about God’s work.]

Still with me?

Where does all of this hate and anger come from? Sadly, a lot of people have been hurt by the church. In fact, most times people who hate church/God have been burned by the church in one way or the other. Jesse Custer had religion forced on him by his family, stemming from his grandmother. Grandma taught that “God’s special because he’s always with you, Jesse. He lives inside you, in your heart, and he sees everything you do and he knows what you’re thinking. Always. God loves you very much because he made you. And God wants you to love him, because if you love him and do good things all your life, he’ll take you away to live with him when you die.”

Let’s pause for a moment and examine her proselytizing technique. For a start, there’s the issue of “witnessing” to kids this way. We have to think about what exactly gets communicated when we use phrases like “live inside you” or “in your heart” because what we are saying might not be (or rather, might exactly be) what kids are hearing. A lot of the time, this type of religious parroting amounts to well-intentioned coercion. Then there’s the issue of whether or not this is even the heart of the Gospel message. Though there’s some truth in her statement, is this what Christ meant when he said “follow me”? Either way, this didn’t play well with young Jesse as he responds with the statement that God sounded “kind of scary” (which He is, but not everyone is ready to think about that aspect of Him).

So Grandma responds by having young Jesse put in a coffin and sunk to the bottom of the river until he accepted God. Go ye forth and make disciples... by any means necessary.

Another source for this anger is that many people feel abandoned by God, as if He has capriciously left them to their own devices in His creation.

“It doesn’t matter who you are, or how good you got things. Sooner or later, shit goes wrong for everybody. Sooner or later there comes a time when all you want to do is shout ‘F- You’ to the world.” Johnny Lee Wombat

There are several conclusions to draw from Jesse’s (spiritual) struggles and misadventures:

1. You don’t get angry about things you don’t care about or don’t think exist. We start with the fact that for him, the existence of God is a foregone conclusion. A friend of mine shared with me that a girl she was dialoguing with revealed that she “only believed in God because I’m mad at God. When I cease to be mad at God, He might not exist for me any longer.” She was pissed that she lived in a society that marginalized women and sexualized their existence, pissed at the list of dos and don’ts people prescribed as the only way to please God, and pissed that we’re not allowed to be pissed at God. Questioning God, being angry at God, isn’t the issue. He’s capable of handling that and wants us to be honest with him. The ironic thing is that Jesse Custer never completes his intended task, but, as it is with all of us, it is the journey for truth that forms him.

“Folks don’t like the truth. That’s the point. It’s easier lyin’. Stops us havin’ to face up to trouble when it comes along to do wrong insteada right.” Jesse Custer

The search for answers from questions without answers isn’t all it's cracked up to be. As Jesse found out during the course of his journey, “what seemed so easy to figure back then has become a hell of a lot more complicated.” There are many reasons for this, not the least of which is the fact that it’s not like we’re owed any answers. We think we are, and the reasons for that I’ll discuss later. Many times, we don’t even understand the questions that we’re asking. (Again, we think we do. I have a four year old that loves asking me “why?” but when I turn around and ask him “why what?” all he can do is stare at me cutely because I’m supposed to explain to him the question as well as the answer.) For that matter, we probably wouldn’t be satisfied with the answers, because, as Jesse learned during his stint as a minister, “folks never believe more than what’s convenient.”

2. We ascribe human notions to a being beyond conception. Jesse does what many of us do, put human characteristics and motivations on God. “You got power, you got to use it right,” he says. You see, and I don’t want to overwhelm you with deep theology but, God is... big. In order to relate to Him, we project our own humanness on Him: sometimes our foibles and notions of right and wrong. We bring Him down to our level and put Him in an understandable box. So it becomes perfectly understandable that we forget his otherliness.

3. Part of our frustration stems from a feeling of broken trust. Why bring us into this world of pain, God? Do you even have a plan? If Genesis has the power to rival God’s, then why would God suffer its existence? Also, knowing what would happen to creation, why do it? We wonder why He has to be so cruel about going about His business. He strikes us as capricious by our way of thinking. Yet, is it really so much for a Creator to ask of His creation that we trust him?

4. We have a low vision of God and an entirely too high vision of ourselves. We’re so quick to blame God for what is wrong with the world around us that we let ourselves off the hook. We have free will and we have a responsibility to our fellow man.

“The Lord announced His great leap forward. Life on earth, not in Heaven, that could think for itself and decide its own spiritual destiny. Men of free will. Every angel in paradise knew what that would mean. Without the love of God around them—tangible, real, as it is in heaven—men on earth would turn from God. Go their own ways. Divide into factions, fight war upon war upon war...” An adephi.

God created man in His image and gave man free will so that we could choose to love Him. However, we, in turn, have created a God in our image. So that instead of God being complete unto Himself, the Trinity in eternal community—creating from an overflow of that dynamic love—we’ve come to see God as an egomaniac who feeds on love. That is why we presume that he needs a helping hand with His divine plan, that somehow we’d know better how to do things. We’ve fallen victim to our hubris that leads us to believe that the creation has outgrown the Creator and need to be free of His machinations. That is the same pride that believes we could do so much better left to our own devices, without Him.

Again, after all the evil that we’ve seen—the day-to-day violence and degradation that we inflict on one another, man’s ever inventive ways of being cruel to one another—the question becomes not ‘how can we believe in God?’ but ‘how can we keep believing in man?’

“Preacher features more than its share of blasphemy,” one reviewer said. Is this a blasphemous work? My Oxford American Dictionary defines blasphemous as profane talk. To profane, from the same dictionary, is to treat (a sacred thing) with irreverence or disregard. The idea behind profanity is to take something which is high and trample it underfoot. I don’t know if there is disregard at the heart of the book, and if we are to engage people where they are, many are at a place of disregard and outright blasphemy. It doesn’t mean that they aren’t to be engaged with.

Crass in its humor, vulgar in its satire, and hyperviolent, Preacher is not an easy book to wrestle with. You may not like the way in which the tales are told, but it asks challenging questions. Questions that we all ask and we need to be prepared to be held to book on.

Back to Comix Index

Batman Begins

—Overview
—Photos
—About this Film
—Spiritual Connections

What does it take to create a legend? Batman Begins tells the tale of one man’s battle against corruption, of a man who feels the need to dress up as a bat in order to do it. The thing about the movie is how plausible it makes this entire venture seem, or at least how it treats the venture as if it is plausible. The movie is grounded, if that makes sense, in the reality of Bruce Wayne’s humanness (the bat suit doesn’t make an appearance for almost a full hour). We know (and I use the word “we” to refer to those of the comic book intelligentsia familiar with the origins of Batman) that it is the tragic loss of his parents at the hand of a street criminal, and his subsequent thirst for Justice, that drives him into his new life. But the exact path that this journey entails hasn’t been depicted until now. This movie, with the hopes of reinvigorating the Batman movie franchise, chooses to explore the tortured psyche of a man who would don some sophisticated latex and fight crime, examining the issues that shaped the man into the hero he is destined to become.

Christopher Nolan (Insomnia, and writer/director of the brilliant Memento) returns the Dark Knight mythos to center stage. Christian Bale (Equilibrium, American Psycho) is wonderful as Bruce Wayne (capturing his playboy spirit and tortured angst better than, say, Val Kilmer who was my favorite Bruce Wayne) and captivating as Batman (who, odd as it may sound, had been done best by Michael Keaton). The star power of this movie doesn’t stop there: Michael Caine (the faithful manservant, Alfred), Rutger Hauer (Earle), Ken Wantabe (Ra’s Al Ghul), Morgan Freeman (scientific genius, Lucius Fox), Gary Oldman (Lieutenant James Gordon), and Liam Neeson (Henri Ducard) all give rousing turns chewing up scenery. The camera work gets a little too close to the action, at times obscuring the fight scenes and at other times conveying the speed of the action.

The movie provides a depth to the character and nature of Bruce Wayne/Batman, explaining his identification with bats and his relationship with his parents. It also shows that Batman couldn’t be Batman alone, but needed quite a bit of help to perfect his method. Lucius provides the tech, Alfred the wisdom in covering his tracks, and Bruce Wayne has to develop his playboy persona.

The complex plot of the cadre of villains to destroy Gotham City aside, this movie is (spiritually) about two things: being lost and fighting corruption.

As the movie opens, Bruce Wayne has chosen to live among the criminal element in order to better understand the criminal mind. However, what he is unaware of is that he had become lost (despite his intentions of joining in the mission of the pursuit of Justice): lost in impossible anger and pain, at the loss of his parents. How we respond to tragedies in our lives form us. We can become embittered and vengeful or maybe we can grow through the trial. His anger and pain, the need to pursue Justice, drove him but also threatened to destroy him unless he put it in check. Part of his learning meant realizing that Justice equals harmony while revenge is only about making himself feel better.

We come to varying points in our lives when we realize that things aren’t as they should be. Our world seems implacably marred by corruption—as we live in a state of fear, despair—careening down a path of destruction and death. We have the feeling that something is missing, but we don’t know how to fix it. This incompleteness drives us; however, in our rush to fill this void, we run the risk of filling it with the wrong thing. Maybe the discontent we feel needs to be re-thought. Maybe it isn’t entirely bad. Maybe the missing pieces in our lives should move us toward some sort of conclusion about life.

“All of this is not me. Inside, I am ... I am more.” Bruce Wayne
“It’s not who you are underneath, it’s what you do that defines you.” Rachel Dawes

As one lesson learned, compassion is what separates the Batmans of the world from the Ra’s Al Ghuls of the world, since Batman isn’t willing to defeat evil by any means necessary. Bruce Wayne also comes to realize the power of symbol, the power of story to teach, inspire, and transform others. Thus he creates the myth of Batman, an ideal and example for others to follow. (Batman, however, apparently also has no compunctions about the sheer amount of property damage that he inflicts in his pursuit of Justice.)

The constant fear is another symptom of the corruption. Crime, despair—this is not how men were meant to live. Gotham City, this modern day Babylon, is rotting; excess decadence is its chief sin. Its taint takes many forms, infiltrating every aspect of their society until it blooms full form in the mob, the crooked police force, corporations run amuck, the Scarecrow, and Ra’s Al Ghul. No society stands a chance of survival if its good people choose to do nothing.

“To manipulate the fears of others, you must first master your own.” Ducard.

A trinity of good people are at the heart of the movie: Batman, Assistant D.A. Rachel Dawes (Katie Holmes) and Lt. Jim Gordon. They provide the hope for the city, serving as reminders that those without decency must be fought. Until all evil is defeated, we are to fight corruption where we see it, be it where the corruptions starts (in our own hearts) or as it becomes symptomatic in society (crime).

Even moreso, and better done than Star Wars Episode III: Return of the Sith, this is the movie that we’ve been waiting to see—the movie that returns the character of Batman to where he should be. The movie succeeds because it emphasizes character and story over special effects and nipples on the bat-suit, creating an adult drama from what my grandmother used to refer to as “funny books.”

And I couldn’t be happier.

—Overview
—Photos
—About this Film
—Spiritual Connections

The Office

I had long heard reports that I had to watch this wonderful comedy out of England called The Office, especially since Hollywood was going to make its own version of it for American consumption. Rather than watch an American bastardization of the show, I opted to watch the British original (now available on DVD). Full of British sensibilities—that dry, understated kind of humor that is not everyone’s cup of tea—the series comes across like a dark, live action version of the comic strip Dilbert. Many of us have had bosses, or office-mates, who are unfunny and uncool, but at the same time try too hard to be your buddy. Or had unrequited crushes on an office mate. Or been tortured (or choose to torture) insufferable office mates who are a little too full of themselves. This is the stuff that makes up The Office.

“What is the single most important thing for a company? ... It’s the people. Investment in people.” David Brent (Ricky Gervais, writer and director)

With the sword of Damocles over its head—that specter of corporate downsizing—this wonderfully insightful series is very much a reflection of our (corporate) selves. A fictional BBC film crew documents the lives of office workers under the pressure of losing their jobs. And what do they capture? Bureaucrats with a belly full of power overseeing their fiefdoms. Petty office politicking and bravado. Speeches laden with the empty jargon-filled language of Bureaucrat-ese, the management-speak indicative of corporate rot. People attempting to find meaning in the seeming meaninglessness of their dull, dreary, tedious existences. And this show wrings laughs out of every excruciating and embarrassing moment.

“You’re such a sad, little man.” Dawn Tinsley (Lucy Davis)

“It’s only a trifling matter.” Tim Canterbury (Martin Freeman)

This is life for many of us, going through the motions, stuck in empty patterns. Too often we are characterized by this sense of an unfulfilled existence. Tim, our favorite office worker who quietly longs to be engaged-to-a-control-freak receptionist, Dawn, has long had his confidence crushed out of him by the daily grind. All the workers come to realize that they are but cogs in the corporate machine, hopelessly trapped in a mundane world. The laughs come from recognizing ourselves in such soul-crushing monotony.

So, this begs the question how are we to connect to God through this?

I am reminded of the monk, Brother Lawrence of the Resurrection, who led a simple life as a cook then later as a shoe repairman. He learned to find communion with God in ordinary circumstances, through a simple discipline he called practicing the presence of God.

“I gave up all devotions and prayers that were not required and I devote myself exclusively to remaining always in his holy presence. I keep myself in his presence by simple attentiveness and a general loving awareness of God that I call ‘actual presence of God’ or better, a quiet and secret conversation of the soul with God that is lasting.” (Brother Lawrence, The Practice of the Presence of God: Critical Edition, 53)

In all things, Brother Lawrence sought to maintain a constant awareness of God’s gracious presence in his life. For this, this “practice of the presence of God” was “the essence of the spiritual life” (34). One of the best descriptions of his simple practice is found in his Spiritual Maxims:

The holiest, most ordinary, and most necessary practice of the spiritual life is that of the presence of God. It is to take delight in and become accustomed to his divine company, speaking humbly and conversing lovingly with him all the time, at every moment, without rule or measure, especially in times of temptation, suffering, aridity, weariness, even infidelity and sin. (36)

This method is modeled for us in The Office. All of the characters are aware of the documentary crew filming them, this ever-present camera that records their conversations and observes their lives. Once aware of the camera, becoming somewhat comfortable with its intrusive presence, they can’t help but converse with it during the course of the day. The characters know that they are being filmed so they try and put on their best behavior (failing in hysterical fashion despite themselves). The camera never seems to respond, but its presence is both unsettling and comforting.

Your picture, your awareness, of God affects how you live. In The Office, we have a reminder—a mirror held to our collective faces—of how we can squander living life as if God was present at all times in all situations. We have an example of how easy it is to forget that He is available and accessible in all circumstances of life, even the mundane activities of daily living. Simply assuming that God is present and then living accordingly can greatly impact one’s life. We become formed by this simple yet profound discipline as we learn to appreciate every encounter, every circumstance, as an opportunity to know God.

This dark comedy rings entirely too true for anyone who has ever worked in an office. It is brilliantly written and I can only hope that it translates well to our American shores.