Cinema Vitæ

The blogosphere is rife with Academy Award predictions as the race makes the final turn heading toward the finish line this Sunday, February 24, 2008 (5pm/PST). In the spirit of a good horse race, it seems only fair to go head-to-head with a fellow blogger to see who has the better spread. For this little exercise, I’ve chosen my classmate’s Oscar post which you can find here. This may be an unfair choice because my blogpetitor wrote her post on January 23rd, well before the typical Oscar jockeying took place. Still, all is fair in love and blogging. That said, let’s open the gates.

My blogpetitor (let’s call her Ms. White) makes a critical error from choice #1. For Best Picture, Ms. White has chosen Atonement. While this film had some initial buzz due to its classic Academy Award elements (war, romance, beautiful sweeping cinematography, wonderful scoring, and other “epic” qualities), it is slowly losing position to No Country for Old Men. This latter film has picked up the pace because of its popular directors (The Coen Brothers) and it’s quirky, dark material which the Academy loves and the masses hate. No Country will win by well more than a nose.

In perhaps her biggest Oscar prediction faux pas, Ms. White has chosen Ellen Page (from Juno) as the horse to beat in the Best Actress category. I’m afraid that Ms. White has let her emotions get the best of her. Don’t get me wrong, Ellen Page plays a compelling character and does it smashingly, but this is not the most challenging nor worthy female performance of the year. I think this is a two pony race and Ms. Page is at the back of the pack. It’s going to be neck and neck to the wire and the horses we should be concentrating on are Julie Christie (Away from Her) and Marion Cotillard (La Vie en Rose). Julie Christie’s performance is nuanced and beautiful and much the same can be said of Ms. Cotillard’s. Both would be worthy of the winner’s wreath.

The final race I’d like to direct your attention to is the Best Supporting Actress derby. Here, my blogpetitor has chosen Cate Blanchett in I’m Not There. I’ve actually chosen the same horse, but I am beginning to doubt my choice. Ms. Blanchett is not doubt worthy of this award, but having already won an Oscar this seems like the perfect race for the Academy to apply the riding crop on the Tilda Swinton pony (for her performance in Michael Clayton). This is perhaps the most difficult race to call and neither I nor Ms. White may win this spread.

Outside of the derbies listed above, Ms. White and I agree on all the other significant races. I invite you to check out my other choices here. Also, if you haven’t had the chance to read my reviews on some of these films, please click through for my thoughts on Atonement, No Country for Old Men, and Juno. Check back soon for my review of Michael Clayton.

Admission: I hate watching award shows.

I am the type of person that watches the last two minutes of the football game because, after all, that’s all the really counts right? I watched about one hour of the BAFTA (i.e., British Academy of Film and Television Arts) awards last night and I went stir-crazy. Cut the rhetoric and the cheesy jokes and get to the awards. I, for one, like the Golden Globes’ 2008 model. Take 45 minutes and give me a laundry list of winners and spare me the red carpet. The declining Academy Award television ratings may be a strong indication that my perspective is becoming the majority. Less talk and more awards, that’s my motto. To that end, let’s do a quick zooming cut to my predictions:

Best Motion Picture of the Year

• Will Win: NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN
• Should Win: Juno

Best Actor in a Leading Role

• Will Win: DANIEL DAY-LEWIS
• Should Win: Daniel Day-Lewis

Best Actress in a Leading Role

• Will Win: MARION COTILLARD
• Should Win: Julie Christie

Best Actor in a Supporting Role

• Will Win: JAVIER BARDEM
• Should Win: Tom Wilkinson

Best Actress in a Supporting Role

• Will Win: CATE BLANCHETT
• Should Win: Cate Blanchett

Best Animated Feature Film

• Will Win: RATATOUILLE
• Should Win: Ratatouille

Best Directing

• Will Win: NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN
• Should Win: No Country for Old Men

Best Writing (Adapted Screenplay)

• Will Win: NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN
• Should Win: The Diving Bell and the Butterfly

Best Writing (Original Screenplay)

• Will Win: JUNO
• Should Win: Juno

Best Foreign Language Film

• Will Win: 12
• Should Win: The Counterfeiters

Best Cinematography

• Will Win: THERE WILL BE BLOOD
• Should Win: There will be Blood

Best Art Direction

• Will Win: ATONEMENT
• Should Win: There will be Blood

Best Costume Design

• Will Win: LA VIE EN ROSE
• Should Win: Sweeny Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street

Best Makeup

• Will Win: LA VIE EN ROSE
• Should Win: La Vie en Rose

Best Music (Score)

• Will Win: ATONEMENT
• Should Win: Ratatouille

Best Music (Song)

• Will Win: ONCE (”Falling Slowly”)
• Should Win: Once (”Falling Slowly”)

Best Visual Effects

• Will Win: THE GOLDEN COMPASS
• Should Win: Transformers

Best Sound Mixing

• Will Win: TRANSFORMERS
• Should Win: The Bourne Ultimatum

Best Sound Editing

• Will Win: THE BOURNE ULTIMATUM
• Should Win: The Bourne Ultimatum

Best Film Editing

• Will Win: THE BOURNE ULTIMATUM
• Should Win: The Bourne Ultimatum

Best Documentary Feature

• Will Win: SICKO
• Should Win: Operation Homecoming: Writing the Wartime Experience

Best Documentary Short

• Will Win: SALIM BABA
• Should Win: La Corona (The Crown)

Best Short Film (Animated)

• Will Win: PETER & THE WOLF
• Should Win: I met the Walrus

Best Short Film (Live Action)

• Will Win: LE MOZART DES PICKPOCKETS (THE MOZART OF PICKPOCKETS)
• Should Win: Tanghi Argentini

Parting Thought: Of course, these are just “predictions,” so I’m not legally liable for inaccuracies. I’d love to hear where you disagree. Leave me a comment if you like.

The documentary film, The Bridge, offers a compelling look at the suicide epidemic occurring at the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco, California. According to the documentary, filmed in 2004, the Golden Gate Bridge is the number one suicide location in the world (24 people killed themselves there in 2004). In this post, I thought it would be interesting to consider what ethical relationship exists, if any, between the filmmakers themselves and the people they filmed committing suicide.

The creators of The Bridge, notably the film’s director Eric Steel, never appear on camera nor do they offer any commentary or narrative voiceover in their film. The only information we receive directly from the filmmakers comes at the very end and takes the form of statistics printed on the screen. We never hear their voices as the documentary’s story is carried forward by those people being interviewed. The hand of the creators is certainly present in their choice of people interviewed as well as their choice of which sound bites to include or exclude. Still, it is a curious choice not to offer any personal narration on how they came upon this subject matter, why they chose to film it, and what they hoped would result from it. I appreciate their desire not to bias the audience and to let the images speak for themselves, but I wonder if their lack of voice in the film is out of respect for the dead and those that knew them or because they did not want to be identified.

What must it mean for a filmmaker to go to a popular suicide destination almost every day for a year, set-up his camera, and wait. Not only that, but to actively scan the bridge looking, wondering, “Is that the next person to jump?” What must go through that filmmaker’s head? Unlike the gentleman interviewed in the film who pulls back to safety a potential suicide victim, the creators of the The Bridge do not make an attempt to save their actors — the people starring in their story. An even more interesting fact to consider is that the documentary only goes forward, there is only a story to tell, if people do jump. Is this exploitive cinema or cinema with a purpose? It’s hard to say since the filmmakers never weigh-in on their reasons for telling this story.

If the filmmakers behind this documentary could make an almost daily trip to the Golden Gate Bridge with the purpose of catching on camera those committing suicide, why couldn’t they have instead walked-up and down the bridge to save these very people they were filming? What made them pick-up their camera instead of reaching out a hand to help? Are they glorifying suicide here or giving us a glimpse of the impact of this action on those people left behind? Perhaps the point being made by the filmmakers is that there are no easy answers to these questions.

The ethical considerations for documentary filmmakers can certainly be great. While I wish the filmmakers here would have made a more proactive attempt to save these people, it remains difficult to say when documentary creators should stop telling the story and actively participate in it. This is perhaps a matter best left up to individual conscience.

Regardless of the ethical considerations pondered here, The Bridge provides a story well worth viewing and discussing.

Follow-up note: After writing this post, I did find clarifying information on how the filmmakers approached this documentary. These details are available here and as a bonus feature on some DVD copies of this film. I am glad to note that many of my above stated assumptions are inaccurate. You know what they say about assumptions . . .

(Warning: Potential spoilers ahead)

Experience tells me that there exists two types of film goers. First, those that are quick out of the gate . . . the theater lights are up and their mouths are off quickly galloping around the track of their minds analyzing this or that part of the movie. The second category of people I like to brand “The Mullers.” You can immediately identify these folks by their dead-eyed gaze and slow movements. In the full throws of mull-mania, these people ponder, formulate, double-back insulating themselves in their tortoise shell of thought oblivious to external stimuli (excepting perhaps their full bladders).

For my part, I fall in the first camp. In my defense, however, I do allow for a full credit roll before I start out of the gates . . . after all, I’m not heartless. This said, every once in a while a film comes along that forces me into my version of the twilight zone — I’m walking down a long tunnel, sound muffled, light far off in the distance. I’m mulling. I can’t believe it, I’M MULLING! 3:10 to Yuma (2007) put me in the zone.

Now, I know what you’re saying. “Come on, Andy, it’s a Western . . . really, how much could there be to mull?” I know, I know, in most instances I would completely agree. There’s a salon, a fire, a woman, a bad guy in black, a few horses, a wild chase, some guns, and, of course, the hero. Seriously, this of all genres should not inspire mulling. But it did. What follows is some scatter shot thoughts about 3:10 to Yuma from a man not well-versed in the art of the mull.

To begin, let’s just accept that Russell Crowe (playing the infamous outlaw Ben Wade here) and Christian Bale (acting the desperate small-time rancher Dan Evans) are two of the finest actors on screen today. By throwing in Ben Foster as Crowe’s right-hand man, 3:10’s casting director (Lisa Beach) surely deserves an amazing bouquet of flowers . . . or perhaps a fine bottle of whiskey (this is, after all, a Western). Outside of the acting, however, there isn’t a lot cinematically compelling here. The music is forgettable, the cinematography underwhelming, and the story has a few holes (for instance: at one point after Ben Wade’s posse realizes he is not in the decoy stagecoach, they say they have to double-back 80 miles to catch up with him. Yet, across the plain is the real Ben Wade and his captors watching the posse through binoculars . . . 80 miles you say, hm). But I am willing to forgive all these “less-than” elements in the film because at its center this movie is about a person — Dan Evans — and his struggle to reclaim his masculinity. For me, this is compelling cinematic material.

At the outset of the film, we find a stagnate Dan Evans. A man barely capable of action because of the weight of life’s circumstances and a deep rooted self-doubt caused by an internalization of supposed past cowardices. The entrance of the outlaw Ben Wade into the story presents Evans with what he consciously reasons as an opportunity to save his ranch, but subconsciously hopes will salvage his manhood. With an amputated foot (due to an injury sustained in the American Civil War), a disinterested wife, a failed ranch, and a teenage son that doubts both his courage and competence, Dan Evans is a search of someone to believe in him . . . most notably himself. This film is less a wrestling match between Wade and Evans and more a rough-and-tumble internal battle between Dan Evans and Dan Evans. He must win, not only for his son’s sake, but so that he can hold his head-up high — perhaps for the first time in his life.

I don’t know about you, but I can relate to this kind of internal battle. “Can I do this difficult thing of bringing Ben Wade to justice?” “Do I have the courage, skill, and guts to be the last man standing.” I ask myself these types of questions everyday. “Can I do this difficult task?” “Can I make the right decision at the critical time when everything is on the line?” And, perhaps even more important than these “big” decisions, “Am I man enough to do the daily, monotonous, little duties that are before me today or will I shirk my responsibilities and do only those things that bring immediate pleasure?” Men (in particular) are usually capable of coming up big in the clutch, but it’s in the little things where we so regularly fail.

As much as I liked 3:10 to Yuma for its courage-infusing action (I walked away feeling encouraged that I could do the “big” things looming large in my future), the filmmakers just missed in portraying a true masculine redemption. This “true” redemption comes in the small things . . . in Dan’s regularly communicating his feelings to his wife; in his standing up with grace and confidence to defend his ranch; and in his regaining his son’s respect over time. Getting Wade on the train and taking “one” for the team was the easier choice. I appreciate what Evan’s son says at the end, “You did it pa.” Yet, wouldn’t that line be sweeter if it was said to a 70-year old Evans dying in his bed by a son who respected him for a lifetime of masculine choices not from a single extreme instance?

Still, it may not be entirely fair to critique a film for what it isn’t — especially a film as fine as 3:10 to Yuma. While I can’t guarantee that you’ll appreciate this film as much as I did, I heartily recommend you watch it for yourself . . . and mull it over.

“Do you feel lucky, punk?”

This now famous question uttered by Clint Eastwood’s Dirty Harry is followed by a well placed bullet and a dead villain.

I, for one, loved that old Dirty Harry movie. Great action, engaging plot, and a strong lead character. Even with its considerable violence, I found myself captivated by this film.

Not surprisingly, violence is the topic of this third and final intermission discussion (see my earlier ones on language and sex). I will spend a few minutes here looking at the ethical considerations of violence in cinema.

Question: “Does violence have a place in film and, if so, where?”

I’m tempted here to cut-and-paste my response from my last post on sexual content in film and simply change the word “sex” to “violence” because, in essence, I believe the same thing about both. Because the human experience is often a violent one, the films we create must also grapple with this reality of the human story. Thus, we must show violence in cinema to the extent necessary to move the story forward. The magnitude of violence shown — that is, how graphic it should be — is best answered by balancing its relevance in the storyline with the filmmaker’s artistic sensibilities. Again, as with the film Jaws, less can be more.

While no one can speak to what is the appropriate amount of violence for any film, most of us can identify at least one film that crosses that line from “violence for story value” to “violence for exploitative purposes” (such purposes being selling tickets, shocking the audience for shock’s sake, etc.). One such film for me was Kill Bill . . . oh, and Pulp Fiction . . . heck, anything by Quentin Tarantino.

Certainly, we all have differing sensibilities to violence (I have a friend who becomes visibly distraught at seeing even the slightest violent act), but acknowledging this fact doesn’t mean the vast majority of viewers can’t identify those instances in a film where violence becomes showmanship for exploitive ends versus a relevant part of the greater storyline.

Don’t get me wrong, I understand that the entertainment industry is a business and will use necessary tactics (like violence, sex, language . . . reality television) to make a profit and that’s as it is. Yet, as an art form, cinema must not subvert its message for an end. It must tell its story straight and true. I’m playing the naif here, not because I don’t understand the underlying realities of the film industry, but because I hope it remains possible to blend business and art.

The fact that violence, like sex, is often abused in modern filmmaking does not mean we should shy away from its inclusion in today’s cinema. We must use it responsibly to tell our stories. Art must strive to both reflect reality and transcend it to speak of a more true reality that has not yet fully appeared.

This said, we must know ourselves and determine the level of violence we are comfortable viewing. As I said with sexual content, to use violence in a film doesn’t necessarily mean we have to watch it. We have to be vigilant in our cinema choices — striving to be an educated consumer both for our sakes and for the sakes of our children and the culture at large.

Thus ends my multiple intermissions. I don’t know about you, but I’m more than ready to get back to the show. I’ll see you in there . . .

Sex sells . . . at least at your local Cineplex.

In this second in a series of three “intermission” posts exploring issues in film ethics (see my first one here), we will briefly examine the role of sex in films.

Question: Does sexual content have a place in film and, if so, where?

Movies tell stories. The vast majority of these involve people. Since human beings are emotional, intellectual, physical, spiritual, and sexual creatures (amongst other things), one would expect that stories about humans will focus on a broad range of topics and circumstances including sexual ones. To divorce from films such a powerful and universal experience like sex is to tell an untrue human story (or perhaps simply a “subhuman” one).

Certainly, not all films are about sex in the same way that not all of human life is about sex. However, in those instances when sex comes into the story, we must not shy away from its inclusion. The manner of its use — that is, how graphically it is displayed on screen — must be in keeping with its relevance within that story’s arc. Sometimes less is more in film, while in other cases more has to be shown. These decisions are best made by the responsible filmmaker.

Sadly, many of today’s filmmakers (these would be the non-”responsible” ones) include sex in their films as a gimmick to sell more tickets or increase movie rentals because, after all, the most sought after demographic is the young adult male age 16 - 25. Regardless of the reason for its inclusion in the film, sexual content devoid of story value is pornography. It is meant to titillate and serves no other useful function in cinema.

Now, some folks that I know would balk at the idea of including anything of a sexual nature within a film. In most cases, this desire comes from a good place as these people seek to maintain innocence — both for those viewing the film as well as for those acting in it. While I certainly have no intention of encouraging individuals to go against their consciences here, we must recognize that to show the human body or a sexual activity on screen is not always wrong insofar as it advances the story. Let me state, however, that just because a film contains such material does not oblige a person to watch it. Thanks to the internet, we can now find useful information about film content before we step into the theater or rent the movie (I recommend www.pluggedinonline.com as one helpful site).

I’ll even go one step further by claiming that it is a parent or guardian’s responsibility to help children and young people maneuver through the sexual content minefield to arrive at appropriate film viewing choices. We must do research on movies before we rent them and maintain open lines of communication with the young people in our charge so that we can know where to draw appropriate lines.

Yes, it would be easier if pornography or sexually exploitive films didn’t exist, and, no, we can’t forever “guard” our children, but we can help them by making appropriate choices when they’re young and encouraging within them a strong moral understanding from which they can make their own decisions in these matters as they mature.

Still, we must be vigilant here to not throw out the baby with the bathwater. Just because some filmmakers misuse sex in their films does not mean that sexual content should be absent in cinema. We may have to do more work to guard ourselves and those we love from these inappropriate, insincere, and subhuman portrayals of sexuality, but we must not let these exploitive films dampen our view of the wonderful gift of sex. Instead, we should buy more tickets to those films which couch sex appropriately in the middle of the human experience and not as a one-off to cover for a lacking storyline.

Language is powerful.

It means the ability to communicate complex thoughts or feelings. This blog wouldn’t be possible without it . . . neither would most films.

In this first post in my series on film ethics (see my previous blog), all I have to say is f*#k. Well, that’s not really all I have to say, I just wanted to catch your attention. I’m guessing that it worked. That’s the power of language . . . the ability to communicate a lot with a little. Granted, there is more to film language than obscene words. In fact, I’d suggest that in the cinema world, words matter much less than visual imagery. Movies tell stories in pictures . . . still frames (or, now, digital pixels) projected rapidly in a chosen succession on the screens of our retinas.

Still, ever since the invention of “Talkies” (movies with spoken words), films have told their stories in words as well as images. What of these words? Do they really hold sway over what we think, how we feel, the way we see the world? Does film language, obscene or not, become the dictionary from which we harvest words to form the thoughts in our minds, the words on this page? Well, yes, to a certain degree. Of course, it depends on how many movies you watch, but also on the richness of your vocabulary diet. Reading, listening to podcasts, talking to your parents . . . all these things (and more) inform the core base of words from which you think, write, and speak. A heavy cinematic diet must have an impact on your thought and speech in the same way that the breakfast you ate three weeks ago has impacted cells throughout your body. Perhaps you don’t remember what you ate (or what movie you saw three weeks ago), but it has changed you.

If what we hear at the cinema provides the building blocks from which we create thought, should we not be concerned about the language to which we are exposed in the movie theater? I am concerned here not just with obscene language in film, but also limited language. Points of views expressed in words limited to a small subculture residing predominately in Los Angeles and New York (assuming you’re watching American cinema). Granted, foreign films, independent features, and short films on YouTube can expand the breadth of our internal dictionaries, but how many average Americans search out these alternate forms of film content? Thankfully, more and more are doing so because of the infiltration of the internet into our lives.

Still, a diet filled with film is much like eating the same food everyday. Yes, you may be eating a wonderful salad of films, but after a few days your body is going be craving bread or cheese or chocolate. I’m not suggesting that people should watch less films, only spice up your language consumption with a good book, regular conversations with friends and family, or an occasional random outing (you never know who you’ll meet).

People often ask me if I find coarse or obscene language in films offensive. Truthfully, I do not . . . I only find it boring. I once had a co-worker who modified every noun with the F-word. One day I nonchalantly turned to her and asked, “Do you know any other modifiers?” Overuse causes words to lose meaning. The F-word is an extremely powerful word and when used at the right moment can convey more than full paragraphs of language. I’m saving my use of that word for the appropriate moments. Those times when no other word in my lexicon can accurately describe what has or is happening in my life. Movies that rely too heavily on one word (like the “F-word”) to establish character or emotion are like symphonies with only one instrument — it may be interesting at first but quickly becomes monotonous.

Film language, like most things, can be used for good or evil. The greatest evil is perhaps not that film creators use any particular word, but that they use the same words continually. Maybe it’s time we browse the foreign film section at Blockbuster.com or watch a few independent films (check-out this site for help). Please feel free to leave a comment if you have a good outlet (or suggestion) for films that will expand our linguistic palates. If you like, consider it swapping recipes.

Intermission (ĭn’tər-mĭsh’ən) n. = A respite or recess

One of the most anticipated elements of those old double features was the intermission between the showings. The snack bar still looms large in my mind (and on my waistline). A cold cola, a popcorn refresher, perhaps a sweet treat to wash it all down.

This is intermission time for my blog. An opportunity to stretch my legs and gain a new perspective.

Since I spend the bulk of my time on this blog reviewing specific films, I’d like to take a recess from this activity to ponder film more broadly. I find it easy to get caught up in the trees ignoring the larger cinematic landscape. If individual films are capable of initiating strong reactions from viewers (positive or negative), what can we say of film in general? How is watching movies changing our culture? Changing me?

Fact: People love film (over 1 billion movie tickets were sold in 2007).

Fact: People will continue to consume films as long as they are made.

Fact: Films (like all stories) mold the way we understand ourselves, others, and the world in general.

It is this final fact that I want to make the focus of my next three blog posts. Some may doubt the level of film’s influence in patterning our worldview, but most would agree that the things we engage with our eyes (whether film, television, the internet, video games, books, etc.) do provide some meaning to help us understand ourselves and the world around us. We are more than mere creatures . . . a bundle of biological material destined to live out a life according to our genetic pedigree. No, we step-out into the world — interacting, engaging, learning, reacting, and all the while forming opinions of ourself, our neighbor, other cultures, and the divine. We may like or dislike a given film (or simply find some movies unengaging), but we can’t escape the small, subtle, often unconscious personal “truths” we gather from our film watching. While two people viewing the same movie may arrive at different “truths” about themselves or a certain class of people or a particular experience, we cannot deny that one way or another we are impacted.

So, welcome to my snack bar . . . may I offer you some Jujubees?

[Warning: Potential spoilers this way ↓]

The 2006 Canadian film gem, Away from Her, tells a story that I couldn’t shake. It follows the lives of Grant Anderson (played by Gordon Pinsent) and his wife Fiona Anderson (beautifully acted by Julie Christie) as they take a slow, painful walk into Alzheimer’s disease.

Actress turned film director, Sarah Polley, tells this moving story over a period of two Ontario winters. As Grant and Fiona enter the winter of their lives, they look forward to the future years they’ll spend together in their cabin by the lake. The film’s strikingly beautiful cinematography makes use of white light and snow to suggest that even at this stage in their marriage . . . in their lives, there is newness and a fresh hope for tomorrow.

But the film does not allow us to make our snow angels and lie in them; we shortly come to recognize that the color white can double for absence . . . an avalanche hiding the trail back. As Fiona slowly loses her memory, she and Grant are forced to recognize the limitations in life . . . and in love. Even as Fiona forgets, Grant remembers — seeking affirmation that the love they shared was true. He too must let go and embrace an absence.

There are no easy answers given here. No “101 Ways to Survive Alzheimer’s . . . and Smile while Doing it!” This is a frustrating, saddening, and disorienting disease for all parties involved. But, as Away from Her proves, there is also grace to be found in the struggle. Whether in a walk taken, a book read, a dance danced, or in a simple human embrace, Grant and Fiona do the most challenging thing — they live.

Away from Her is a film that certainly does not race by (even at 110 minutes), so it provides plenty of open space to ponder. And ponder I did. Let it be said, however, that at first, I judged. About 3/4 through the movie, while his wife is still alive, Grant sleeps with another woman whose husband is also suffering from Alzheimer’s. My initial response was scorn. How dare he commit adultery . . . again! I certainly wouldn’t do such a thing to my wife, no matter her condition or state of mind. Yet, upon quiet reflection, before my eyes closed for the night, I admitted that I very well could have done the same thing. The loneliness, the empty stares from a spouse, the stories locked away not to be recovered, a beloved wife gone but still present. I know little of these challenges . . . of this suffering. I’m not sure I could do any better than Grant. I certainly cannot judge him for I have committed more heinous acts for less cause. Perhaps Fiona is right, what’s called for here is a bit of grace.

I’m a cinematic outlaw, really, I am.

I have made two rules when it comes to watching movies:

(1) No horror films.

(2) No Christian films.

Some might suggest that this is one in the same rule and I don’t entirely disagree. Let me explain.

I broke rule #2. I did it willing and of my own volition (why, I still don’t know). I guess curiosity got the best of me. See, there is this film called Facing the Giants that some church in Georgia supposedly made for like $100,000 which grossed in the ballpark of $10 million theatrically. This piqued my interest . . . like a mouse to the cheese, oblivious of the trap. I won’t force you to re-live my experience, gnawing off my own limb to free myself from this horrific tangle; needless to say, it wasn’t pleasant.

Facing the Giants is a faith film that uses football as its cover. A down-and-out coach finds Jesus (again?) in the midst of a losing season, a broken-down car, and an infertile marriage. You can probably already see where this one is going. Yes, everything works out perfectly for the coach . . . he even gets two kids instead of one (and I forget how many winning seasons). How, you ask? He met God in a pastel lit, Georgia-field . . . Bible in hand, knees to the ground, and eyes to the sky. The only thing missing was a cross in the background (oh, wait, there were some trees . . . I smell allegory here). Gnaw . . . gnaw . . . gnaw.

You might suspect that this is the type of film I would like, after all, in my last blog I waxed eloquently about my love for “hope-filled” films. Perhaps there is hope here, its just not one that I recognize. Does someone’s acceptance of God = a perfect life? I’ve not seen it, at least on this side of heaven. Facing the Giants purports a hope based on a dangerous lie. Yes, I desperately need hope, but not the type offered by this film. The Christian life is not without challenges, hardship, suffering, and broken hearts. If you think it is, you’ve been reading too much Joel Olsteen and not enough Jesus Christ.

I give credit to the makers of Facing the Giants . . . they have definitely mastered one play — the trap. Sadly, they know nothing of the long drive.