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John M. Frame
Introduction
After I go to a movie, I usually
"debrief" myself, asking what the film was about, what I
enjoyed, what I didn't, etc. Sometimes my debriefing occurs in
conversation with others, but often I simply sit down at the computer and
type up my own review of the film, seeking to put into words my response
to the experience.
I have gathered some of my reviews
together, with some introductory essays, to present to my students at
Westminster Theological Seminary for our course called "The Modern
Mind," a critical survey of modern thought and culture. In order to
teach such a course, one must have some source of regular
first-hand exposure to cultural trends, and I have found that for
myself films are the best means of gaining that exposure. Although
I love music, I confess I find modern avant-garde music, both popular
and "serious," very hard to listen to. I have little taste for,
or understanding of, modern art. Novels take too long to read; plays are
too expensive. I used to watch a lot of TV but, well, we now have young
children in the house, and I don't want them to become
"addicted." I do read modern philosophy and theology, but I also
need exposure to something more universally popular, to see how academic philosophical
and religious ideas are reflected and anticipated in the general culture.
For that purpose, film has become my medium of choice.
Movie reviews are a dime a dozen;
why do I add mine to the pile? Well, reviewers differ greatly in their
emphasis. Most are concerned with aesthetic or technical matters, or
with judgments of entertainment value. Christian reviewers tend to focus
also on the moral tone of films, some actually counting the instances of
sex, violence or foul language. A few reviewers offer unique perspectives.
Jim Jordan, for example, brings to his reviews a rich background in
literary symbolism, and he suggests patterns of symbolism in film that
have subtle but profound bearing on the content of the film. All these
approaches have their usefulness.
I do not have Jordan's sensitivity
to symbolism. I do have thoughts about aesthetic, technical and
entertainment values, which I will express from time to time in the
reviews. I am obviously interested also in the moral aspects of film, though I
have neither the head nor the heart for counting up dirty words.
Though I have no degree in film or
drama, I do have some knowledge of the history of film, having enjoyed
movies and discussions of movies from childhood. I believe that my
musical experience also gives me some appreciation for dramatic structure:
ebb, flow and climax. But others certainly have stronger qualifications
than mine for expressing opinions on these matters.
What I do bring to the reviews is,
in a word, theology. For theology is my main life work. It is Jordan's
too, and Harvie Conn's.
But perhaps because I am less knowledgeable than they about matters of
cinematic detail, I tend to focus more than they on the larger picture. I
see the "messages" of the films less in the context of film as
such than in the context of the general culture and of those great
cultural debates which are at bottom theological. My approach is to stand
back from each film and ask, what is it trying to tell me? What is its
world-view, its law, its gospel?
The world-view is the most important
issue in film. That is the element that is most culturally influential
(often in a destructive way), and it is often most central to the
filmmaker's purpose.
One of the old film moguls (Sam Goldwyn's name comes to mind, but it may have been
someone else) is often quoted as saying "If you want to send a
message, call Western Union." Many filmmakers have made this sort of
claim, that their work has nothing to do with messages, with theology or
philosophy, that it is nothing other than "art for art's sake,"
or, at least, "entertainment for entertainment's sake."
I would not want to claim that art
can be reduced to theology or philosophy. Art tends to be particular and
concrete, while philosophy, and theology to a lesser extent, tend to
be general and abstract. Art strives to entertain; theology and philosophy
generally do not, although the difference here too is a matter of degree.
(Plato, Nietzsche, and Kierkegaard
are entertaining in a way that Aristotle, Kant
and Tillich are not. That fact is not irrelevant
to the proper evaluation of their work.) Art does have dimensions that
delight or disturb us, quite apart from any ideological content. Much of
what art communicates is the ingeniousness of its own design: its colors,
its musical harmonies, the juxtapositions of its scenes. In film, much of
the product's quality comes from the sheer interest of the
camera angles, the harsh or soft focus, the direction of the light,
the short pauses in the actors' speech, the vast range
of artistically formed detail.
Having said all of that, I must add
that it is simply false to claim that art has nothing to do with
"messages." Indeed, we are living in a time in which the
messages of art are becoming more and more explicit. Oliver Stone, for example,
is quite explicit about the political content of his films. He is not
at all embarrassed by claims that he has an axe to
grind. So much the better. In the film community, directors and actors
are praised on all sides for participating in films (even,
often, mediocre films) that take "controversial" positions
on moral/political issues. That is, they are praised when
those controversial positions are the ones that are popular in the
film community and in the national media.
The "art for art's sake"
rhetoric tends to appear when these controversial projects receive
criticism from conservative or Christian viewers. To such criticism, the
standard reply is, "Art is not philosophy and should not be judged as
such. Art is above politics and religion. Art communicates only itself,
not ideology." But that reply is disingenuous. Everyone knows that
it simply isn't true.
Even such concepts as beauty and
form are not religiously neutral. What is beautiful to a non-Christian may
very well be ugly to a Christian: homosexual romance, for instance, or
the demonic simulations in Disney's "Fantasia." Some techniques,
of course, like the use of hand-held cameras, can be used
by Christians or non-Christians. A dim level of lighting in a
scene does not necessarily distinguish Christian from non-Christian filmmaking. On the other hand, such dim lighting can be
used to make a value judgment. A director's choice to use dim lighting
in a room for the scene of a meeting might in some contexts
convey that director's view that the characters at that meeting
are fairly unsavory. That doesn't mean that dim lighting
always indicates the presence of evil; but granted other elements of
the drama, it may indicate that. And of course Christians
and non-Christians tend to disagree as to where evil is to be found.
Message, then, is not all there is
to art, but it is an important element of it, one that is especially
important to Christians who are concerned about the impact of films on
their families and upon society. From one "perspective," it is
the whole: for when we ask about "message," we are simply asking
what the art as a whole is communicating to us. The message may
not always be easily expressed in words, or in the terms
of philosophy or theology. But attempting to express it in words is a worthy goal for a reviewer. Nor is the message
of a film to be obtained in the same way we obtain the message of
a philosophical treatise. Films, even Oliver Stone's, do not simply teach or preach. But no one
should have any objection to analysis of a director's artistic decisions
to see what they reveal about his vision of life.
It is usually not hard to answer the
question, "What does the director want us to think (about the
characters, the events, the setting, the atmosphere)?" It is usually
pretty clear who are the basically sympathetic characters, who are the
villains. In films as in real life there is, of course, moral ambiguity.
There is good in the worst, bad in the best. But even to make such comments
we must be able to use moral terms; we must be able to distinguish good
from bad. The chief approach of my theological analysis of the films will
be simply to ask "What does the film consider good, and what bad?"
So my reviews will basically try to
sum up the "message" of each film: its ideology, its values, its
world-view, its philosophy, its theology. I will comment on other elements
of the film as they seem especially relevant to formulating
that message. In the process I will try to observe proper
distinctions between art and philosophy, especially to recognize the particularism of a film's focus. But particularism
is of no interest unless it is in some measure universal, unless
it reminds its viewers of what they, too, have observed.
Such is the program underlying these
reviews. I hope that readers and viewers will find them in some measure
edifying. May God use them in some small or large way to strengthen
the Christian presence in the contemporary world.
One word of warning: since these
reviews attempt to be serious analysis rather than "viewing
guides," I will not avoid discussions of endings. Obviously, one
could not meaningfully discuss "Hamlet" or "Death of a Salesman"
without saying something about the endings of these dramas. The same is
true about significant films. Those who can't bear to know the
ending of a film before seeing it should proceed with
appropriate caution.
My thanks and appreciation go to those Christian authors who have entered this arena before me, who have endured the scorn of the world by developing a Christian interpretation of film and who have often endured the scorn of Christians because they have chosen to go to movies. Especially, I have learned from the contributions of Donald Drew, Harvie Conn, Jim Jordan, and Keith Billingsley. Much should be said also for the work of an observant Jew, Michael Medved, who has exposed the moral antagonism between Hollywood and "traditional American values." Whether he recognizes it or not, those values he cherishes are, by and large, the values taught and advanced by the Christian gospel.