A Review of the Princess and the Goblin by George MacDonald

Chesterton wrote of the Princess and the Goblin that it “remains the most real, the most realistic, in the exact sense of the phrase the most like life.” This influential literary master adds praise to a book that he claims helped him to see things differently.

Chesterton’s synopsis is like a balm to my soul. I, too, am always eager to see things differently. I am delighted to see ideas and stories shaping people’s lives and helping them navigate their own religious experiences and challenges. Stories are food for the soul of those who thirsts for righteousness.

Timothy Larsen ponders the question in his introduction to the book: “What are you afraid of?” It is the question of fear that decorates this great classic. MacDonald wants to put fear at the forefront of little children. He wants them to grow in maturity, facing dragons and wild beasts.

Princess Irene and Fear

It’s the lovely and innocent Irene, who, as an eight-year-old Princess, has to navigate life in a half-castle because, MacDonald notes, her mother was not very strong. It appears she has died, and now she must journey alone. Her maturity will come through her desire to see life anew, to live, as Chesterton paints it, “most life like.”

While her mother is not involved in her development, it is clear that she embraces the all-encompassing gravitas of a Father/King, who gallops with sophistication and speaks Solomonically. She is a daddy’s girl, and it is her father’s words she treasures in those rare moments of his appearance.

Irene is guided by a relative who takes her by the hand by an invisible thread; invisible, that is, to others, but for Irene, it is the incarnation of love. It takes her back every time to the long-winding stairs of her abode and the embrace of her great-great-grandmother. This mysterious character appears in fantastical ways to bring Irene a sense of the magical. The “old lady” is not some imaginative figure but is very near to her and plays the role of comforter and rescuer throughout the narrative. She is a compass for the young and virtuous little Princess.

Curdie and Rhymes

The other character to grace the pages is the young Curdie, the son of a miner, who does not inherit such care of royal life but lives royally in his adventures and musical rhythms. These rhythms allow him to frighten goblins who are “grotesque both in face and form.” These creatures roam the land seeking to overthrow the kingdom and impose their own world. But Curdie is a determined chorist echoing his rhymes and frightening foe and avenger.

The Union of Innocence and Bravery

It’s this lovely synergy between innocence (Irene) and the brave-hearted song whisperer (Curdie) that offers intrigue to MacDonald’s adventures. Goblins enter the scene to bring misery and death, but innocence and bravery overcome fear.

It is especially delicious to get a glimpse into goblin relationships and delve into their terrifying dynamics. They strategize like humans but lack the very thing that makes humans a delight–compassion and courtesy. On the other hand, MacDonald puts innocence and bravery as the fortifying virtues that make a true society flourish. The humans represent compassion in self-giving patience, and courtesy in discourse and kindness.

Drinking for Joy

This flourishing society, functioning in Spirit-giving life–is constantly threatened by demonic beings who come through wine cellars to destroy the vineyards of righteous humanity. It is through the gift of laughter (wine) that demons drink themselves into oblivion, and the kingdom gets the last laugh.

The familial union and meals between Curdie and his mother and the tender interaction between Irene and her father form this sacred bond to defend the cause against demon snares. They drink for joy, while demons drink for a lost cause.

In the end, righteousness frightens subterranean aberrations, and their bodies–like the rebellious Israelites–are left as examples to us, to humanity, to Chesterton, and to everyone who delights in a little Princess and a young miner’s quest for truth.

On Watching Classic Movies

Dear little one,

Thank you for your letter.

You asked about classic movies and their value. Your question was quite mature and so I wish to add a few additional thoughts. The purpose of any film is to convey ideas. Every director produces movies to portray a vision of their world. Good classics represent stories based on a particular world. Fairy tales, for instance, are movies that intend to reach the imagination. G.K. Chesterton, that chubby fella, once wrote that “fairy tales don’t produce fear in children nor give them the idea of the evil or the ugly, it’s already in the child because it’s already in the world.” Your role is to take these ideas and direct them to the good, whether good or bad.

When you bring the image of eternity in Peter Pan, you are bringing a biblical image into the movie. In fact, movies are always reflections of distortions or virtues of a biblical system; and sometimes they interpose both.

Peter Pan does not want to grow old. Why does he not want to grow old? He has decided that youth is the only valued virtue or he has an untiring faith in another world. Which is it? What does the Bible say about that? Also, what kind of world do children create? And why do they create it? Why are children always so curious to establish worlds where we all eternally play? My own position is that the kingdom of God belongs to them, as Jesus says in St. Matthew.

The kingdom of God in eternity is a vision of eternal play. Children are right to desire such a kingdom, but they are wrong in imagining that this kingdom can be achieved here and now. Peter Pan confuses the kingdoms, but his initial desire is a good one that a Christian needs to consider. These are fundamental questions the movie raises that you need to consider.

Second, why should you watch classic movies? Simple. Most things in life that are good are things we never initially liked. We are all on a journey towards growth, which means that we will all grow in our desires and tastes. Classic movies mostly keep you grounded in old virtues and big ideas that help you think more holistically about the world. It teaches you lessons that are clear and shapes your imagination.

There were dozens of things I did not like as a child that I now adore. The point is that certain things created today, like movies, are not meant to shape our imagination but to drive us away from Christ and his word. You see this in messages of women taking over the world and being angry that men are trying to protect them. Don’t fall for these messages. Seek to preserve the biblical order of things and in your watching, you will learn and grow in wisdom.

We need to desire things that are permanent rather than things that change. The world we live in is a world that despises Jesus. Therefore, we need to cherish old things so that we can interpret newer things better. I trust this helps.

Sincerely,

Pastor Uriesou Brito

#162

Movie Review: The Story of Ruth (1960)

Another Saturday upon us and another review of an older cinematic work. I confess I watched this one in greater detail than other classic works I reviewed in the past. Only two weeks ago, I did not know this movie existed and when I discovered it I was thrilled to know that there was some adaptation of the biblical story of Ruth out there.

This is a historical romance directed by Henry Koster in 1960. I have read several critical responses written in the day and the movie received overwhelming praise. The cast is quite fabulous, and the lovely Elana Eden delivers an aggressively charming portrayal of Ruth.Of course, the commentary we wrote on Ruth published a few years back gave me a particularly endearing perspective into a book I know quite well. But the movie is an adaptation, and I am comfortable with adaptations because I am expecting interpretive acts from the writers and directors and this frees me to be an analogical observer rather than a hermeneutical one.

The story–unlike the text itself–begins by giving us a context into Ruth’s upbringing revealing her development as a little girl into a priestess in the Moabitess religion. The movie sees Ruth through the lens of a spiritual teacher who prepares chosen Moabite girls in the catechism of Chemoshian religion. As a grown priestess, Ruth’s task is to supervise the eventual sacrifice of these little ones to Chemosh. Ruth has seen these sacrifices numerous times, but prior to the sacrifice of a particular young girl whom she has learned to love, Ruth had been ideologically courted by Mahlon, a Jew who traveled with his brother Chilion, his father Elimelech, and his mother Naomi to Moab running from the famine (Ruth 1:1). Now, after being catechized in the law of God, Ruth has changed and upon seeing the death of the little girl–whom she trained–the law of God begins to take effect in her life, and she openly rejects the famous practices of the religion she was sworn to uphold.

The Moabite leadership quickly condemns Mahlon and Chilion, and his father Elimelech for influencing Ruth. Both Chilion and Elimelech die in prison, and Mahlon is sentenced to the quarries for his entire life. In an attempt at rescuing Mahlon from the quarries, Ruth seeks aid from additional guards, but upon Mahlon’s escape, he is injured. Upon his death bed, he marries Ruth sealing this epic union (It should be noted that in our commentary, Mahlon and Chilion receive a less than flattering description).

Ruth and Naomi are now left desolate, and though Naomi seeks to dissuade Ruth from following her back to Bethlehem, she refuses. This portion of the adaptation is quite clearly textual and I enjoyed this scene playing itself. When Naomi and Ruth return to Bethlehem, they encounter an anti-Moabite group that is constantly antagonizing Ruth and her ethnicity. Ruth and Naomi seek to restart life, and two suitors appear as solutions to their solitude. The nearest kinsman appears to be a charlatan who wants Ruth but shows no love for her. The other, Boaz, is honest and honorable and wishes to marry Ruth but must accept the Law of Moses as the supreme law of the land, which gives the right of the nearest kinsman to marry Ruth. In the end, as both men are resting at the winnowing barley on the threshing floor, Ruth approaches Boaz and they declare their love for one another. The story derails at crucial points from the actual biblical text, but the overarching status of the nearest kinsman is quite close to what Ruth 4 describes. He appears to be quite committed to preserving his wealth and unwilling to make sacrifices to redeem and love.

With the nearest kinsman out of the picture, the movie ends with the wedding of Boaz and Ruth and a narration of the final genealogy found at the end of Ruth 4, declaring the messianic line of Ruth’s son, Obed.

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The story is quite compelling, and a couple of additional images help solidify this portrayal as an astute adaptation. Two images come to mind: a) the first is the scene of Ruth next to a well meditating on marriage. Uniquely, wells in the Bible are almost always represented as places synonymous with weddings or marriage. Jesus meets the woman at the well and the discourse is one rooted deeply in marriage. b) the second scene is the appearance of an angel who invites himself to Naomi’s house and asks that she bake him bread. When Naomi returns with the bread, the angel of the Lord disappears but blesses the land with much-needed rain showing favor to the house of Naomi. God blesses obedience.

While there are a plethora of unique considerations in this 1960 adaptation, I left rather pleased with the attempt at portraying a story I love so dearly.

Prisoners: A Movie Review

I have the strange habit of treating movies like an academic experience. I almost always, assuming there is sufficient light, take some notes. In this movie, I took copious notes, but something strange happened in the latter 90 minutes of it–I stopped taking notes.

The last time something like this happened was when I watched the feast scene in “Babette’s Feast.” The food and experiences around the table captivated me and I simply put the pen away and savored the moment. Something similar, but on a whole different level of emotion took place as I watched “Prisoners.” I have a high tolerance for long movies, especially since my sense of character-development is always ambitious. But I confess up-front that 150 minutes for a movie brings out my Simon Cowell critical spirit to the forefront. As I wrote a few days ago, editing is an art best served all the time. Therefore, if the time excess is merely fill-in with empty rhetoric, may the director and his screenwriters suffer artistic purgatory.

Entering into modern movies is a challenge to me. I have little by little grown distasteful of them. It may be that I am aging crank-fully, but perhaps it’s the speedy tendency in modern movies to throw in the unnecessary rubbish as a display of edginess and post-modern brownie points. These days, most works after 1980, in my estimation, age as well as cheap Publix Port.

Enough meandering. A parishioner and fairly astute fellow challenged me to watch “Prisoners.” This 2013 kidnapping-thriller pushed me to the edge of my sofa, not in the tenth minute, but the first few seconds. I thrive in symbolism and in the first minute, Denis Villeneuve’s “Prisoners” shocked my initial complacency and vaccinated me with a James Jordan injection that I gladly accepted.

The scene opens on a snowy forest with a glorious deer silently roaming his domain. The father (Hugh Jackman) begins reciting the Lord’s prayer as the camera pulls back to show his son’s shotgun ready to make his first kill. As the words exit the dad’s mouth (“forever and ever, amen!), the son, played by Dylan Minnette, releases a perfect shot bringing his dinner down to the crimson-filled snow. The scene leaves you speechless, and there are still 147 minutes left.

The movie traces the journey of Keller Dover ( Hugh Jackman) and Franklin Birch (Terrence Howard) and their families. The two neighboring families enjoy a simple suburban life with deer meat and wine and music. Children enjoy the peaceful life of play and pleasantries fitting for their age. But all that changes when both men lose their daughters. The two girls ask to go on an innocent walk and do not return. The movie reveals the human despair of two families who quickly transitioned from a peaceful environment to an immediate apocalyptic context as they wrestle with questions of emotional survival and the existential perils of seeing life through the lens of loss. Hugh Jackman’s character shows his humanity throughout in sermon-life fashion refreshing his soul in biblical recitations, even when he enters into the inferno-scene of confronting the supposed abductor.

The movie portrays the ethical turmoil of men who will do whatever it takes to recover their daughter, and in the process, they must contemplate whether losing their identity and humanity, as a result, is worth the effort. Keller’s relationship with Detective Loki (Jake Gyllenhaal, who is assigned to the case) is perhaps a movie itself. Their relationship plays out like a battle between two men seeking redemption from their separate hells. Like the Greek god Loki, Loki’s character is playful, but not in an un-serious way, but in how he communicates life. Thus far, life is filled with uncertainty and there is no cause to pursue until he meets Keller. Then, his life is a quest for certainty. He searches for redemption, and his pursuit is furious. Keller and Loki interweave the themes of doubt and the sheer force of certainty as they find themselves constantly pushing their limits to find the truth.

By the 100th minute, I marveled at how far depravity, grace, and mercy can come and how easy these virtues and vices can change in a twinkling of an eye. The ending, in my estimation, proves Director Villeneuve’s brilliance as he neatly connects symbols and ties the whole project with a brilliant hermeneutical bow. We must be prepared for whatever comes our way. To see a child restored to the safety of her home will drive even the most common man to do the unthinkable. If you can bear the gruesome scenes and the creepiness spread throughout various characters (there is no nudity) and enter into the pain of these fathers and mothers, you will not lose 150 minutes of your life, but you will gain it by delving deeply into the ethical and theological implications of this emotional magnum opus.

True Grit (1969): A Movie Review

The sheer joy of seeing John Wayne and Glen Campbell (who sings the lovely opening melody of the movie) on the screen makes the entire endeavor an apriori classic. The Western “True Grit” jumps at you with simplicity and profundity all at once interweaving humorous dialogues with deep discourses on the human condition.

This 1969 classic (there is a 2010 adaptation with Jeff Bridges that I have not yet seen) tells the story of Frank Ross, an honorable man, who is murdered and whose possessions are taken by his hireling, Tom Chaney. His daughter, Mattie Ross, played by the spunky Kim Darby, is eager to bring Ross to justice, preferably to be hung in Fort Smith. She hires the U.S. Marshal Reuben “Rooster” Cogburn, played by the magnificent John Wayne. Mattie’s persuasiveness and persistence allow her to raise funds to hire Rooster.

Nevertheless, Rooster’s drunken lifestyle conflicts with his reputation as a man with “true grit.” The conflict plays throughout the movie and by the end is gladly solved. Still, Maddie sees in this self-aggrandizing lawman the hope to bring her father’s murder to justice. In the process of procuring a way to bring her father’s murder to justice, a Texas Ranger, La Boeuf, enters the scene as one looking for the same Tom Chaney. The character played by Glen Campbell is a charming and yet equally persistent figure who will stop at nothing to bring back Chaney into custody.

When La Boeuf and Rooster discover that there is much more money involved in the Chaney pursuit than what the young Mattie is willing to offer, they decide to team up and go in search of Tom Chaney. However, Mattie is not easily beaten and follows them. La Boeuf and Rooster do everything to ditch Mattie, but give in to her sweet perseverance.

From that moment, the three begin a mission to find Tom Chaney. They encounter a host of iconic outlaws. The entire dangerous narrative binds the three together in different ways. Most striking is Rooster’s fatherly care for Mattie that culminates in the closing scenes of the movie. The additional humorous exchanges between the two form an unmatched father/daughter relationship.

La Boeuf becomes a much more central figure in the movie than I expected. He embraces a protector role that secures this intriguing combination of characters into an inseparable body of justice seekers.

There are several redemptive factors at play: Rooster Cogburn often seeking his own welfare is redeemed through the love of a young lady whose quest for justice brings his own affairs into proper order. La Boeuf is redeemed not through the bounty reserved for his conquest, but through a life of sacrifice for the least of these. Mattie finds redemption as she gains two father figures to replace her murdered father. God restores her house in double portion.

Perhaps most striking is the ability the movie has to bring characters from completely different backgrounds to join a mission. The Gospel narrative is the original copy of such a mission. In Christ, the Church unites strange characters from every tribe, tongue, and nation to participate in a sacred mission to bring justice to the nations by the power of the One who sacrificed everything that we might be one. In the paternal affection of our Father in heaven, redeemed humans restore the homeless and fatherless to their true purpose in life.

A Movie Review and Theological Implications of “Seven Brothers for Seven Brides”

I thought I’d begin the year with a brief movie review and then make a couple of applications for 2021. I can’t fathom watching something without the purpose of taking apart one scene or twenty and fleshing out its significance. In this case, my wife, daughter, and I watched “Seven Brides for Seven Brothers” last night as we bid adieu together to 2020 at around 9ish like old folks that we are. This may be my third and the Brito women’s fifth time watching it. Every time we embark on this 1954 classic, we find ourselves enamored by colors and symbols, and dances. In my estimation, the movie is a classic paradigm of Hebraic culture; the kind that leads feminists to insanity and makes progressive evangelicals tweet a picture about their chai lattes due to patriarchal overtones. But alas, this work is what we need in 2021.

For those unhappy folks who have never seen this great work of art, the story is set in 1850 Oregon. Before Oregon became the land of sissified ethics and cultural iconoclasts, there were some men and some women who treasured marriage and courtship and their respective roles. The movie portrays a time when women were strong outside the house and inside and men aggressively sought the good.

When Adam Pontipee–the country bearded baritone–comes to town, he comes to find himself a wife. He is looking for a woman to cook and clean and serve him in his large land estate. He finds himself the assertive and beloved Milly, who is eager to start a new life. They are properly married on the same day and make their way back to the backwoods where Milly intends to cook and clean for one man–her new husband.

When she arrives, she discovers that Adam has six additional brothers. Without spoiling too much, all six brothers carry biblical names. Adam is the oldest–as the first man–and Gideon is the last–who plays a decisively charming, but yet prophetic role. The entire scene is entertaining and full of remarkable pieces of subtleties. And of universal acclaim, the choreography is unmatched in talent and beauty.

Milly (Jane Powell who is magnificent!) plays the role of Lady Wisdom seeking to instruct her new tribe. Those around her–her new husband and brothers-in-law–drink from the well of wisdom and find meaning and purpose, which includes fighting for their brides. The kidnapping of the women is a form of fighting for what rightly belongs to them, and the entire story mirrors in some way the Judges (19-21) narratives when the Benjamites are creatively allowed to abduct the maidens dancing at Shiloh. Again, this part will gladly give post-moderns woke strokes.

The ladies are fully aware of where they belong and refuse to go back to their old ways once they see and know what manhood truly is to look like. Adam, the first-born, struggles to listen to Lady Wisdom in various cases and suffers, and the consequence is to leave the house. In the Bible, Wisdom preserves order and seeks the good of Eden. But for the Edenic home to endure, Adam and his band of brothers must seek the good by protecting and placing their women under the benediction of the priesthood, Reverend Elcott (played by Ian Wolfe).

The entire picture is replete with symbolic overtones as priestly colors adorn the screen and Adamic figures seek to reform their ways to the ways of Wisdom. Adam must reconcile with his bride and restore the house.

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2021 is like a stubborn man wanting his way and refusing to listen to Lady Wisdom. This past year served as an Adamic marker in history. We refused to listen to the Word of God and kept getting kicked out of the house, sometimes willingly. But 2021 calls us to listen to Milly and enter into the Church’s rousing dance.

In an age when men give up their callings for the mundane and childish choosing to grow old in their aloneness, God calls them to seek out a wife and start a house. I think it was Jim Wilson who once said that when a man reaches a certain age as single, his duty is to ask her name; which is to say, find a woman and ask her hand in marriage. Perfectionism is the enemy of the duty-bound Gospel man.

We have behaved in 2020 as if dancing and feasting were biblical options. But they are not. If we cannot raise a barn and chop wood, we should raise raucous laughter around a fire and tell stories until next December 31st. Perhaps the lesson I most gleaned from “Seven Brides for Seven Brothers” is that sitting around waiting for life to provide you with delicacies is our mode of operation. But the Gospel says, “Take up the cross.” Jesus did not sit around in heavenly peace. He came down to get himself a wife. Unlike the first Adam, he was Wisdom personified. We better use this year to listen attentively to his instructions.

LOLing to the Death of Conversation

One of my hobbies is to watch movie documentaries explaining the rationale for selecting actors and scenes and all sorts of fascinating details. The latest one I saw was from my beloved “Amadeus Mozart;” a movie that moves me in so many ways. I have probably seen it at least five times over the last twenty years. I have never forgotten Tom Hulce’s performance as Mozart with his contagious and maniacal laughter. F. Abraham Murray as Salieri brought out the sin of covetousness and anger in a more concrete way than I have ever seen performed.

I was reminded also recently of the art of story-telling by sages like Orson Welles who hypnotized me in an interview with Dick Cavett where Welles tells the story of his brief encounter with Adolf Hitler before the Nazi party became prominent. He said in that masterful voice filled with compelling mannerisms that Hitler “made so little an impression on me that I can’t remember a second of it. He had no personality. He was invisible…. I think there was nothing there.” Perhaps only a party of idiots led by a highly uninteresting person can seduce the masses to kill millions. Boredom is a gift of tyrants.

Perhaps the entire ethos of modern-day poetry, and film-making, and the story-telling motif is gone. I am a lover of all things old, not because “old” is somehow more holy or more glorious, but generally because old preserves some sense of decency; it seeks to keep the gift of language at the center without feeling compelled to entertain at every five second interval.

Go ahead. Watch 10 minutes of Jimmy Fallon and suddenly you realize that you learned nothing from a guest actor/actress, except what he ate at midnight on Christmas Eve of 1998 with his second wife. Then, anytime the guest begins to opine about something significant, a game ensues and more entertainment. Of course, the Jimmy fella is hilarious and I find him rather gifted musically, but overall, the audience and its demands create the talk-show host. Fallon is not who we should have, but it’s who we deserve.

Then, head over to YouTube and listen to Dick Cavett (my favorite of all time) and hear him talk to the celebrities of the time and before us, behold, a genuine conversation about life and its inherent hilarities. Cavett can have one of the most charming disagreements with Marlon Brando on the proper definition of acting; the whole thing is civil while Cavett let’s Brando opine on and on without one.single.interruption. Today, Brando would have said five words and been compelled to play a singing game with tarot cards. The long-form conversations are largely gone from mainstream, and have now been absorbed by the podcasting world where there you can hear actors and politicians and religious figures speak frankly without the need to perform but simply be themselves at their best or worst. Jordan Peterson, Bret Weinstein and others have convinced us that people still want to have long conversations about serious things in our day. Not all hope is lost.

I suspect “Babette’s Feast” directed Gabriel Axel in 1987 (on my best movies of all time) would flop today. Charlie Chaplin’s genius adapted to a 21st century audience would be too nebulous. His comedy would be considered too imaginative. Andy Griffith would be too naive. Opie would seem too concretely situated in a patriarchal paradigm. I suspect Postman was right. If we are not entertained too quickly, we’d lose ourselves, amuse ourselves to death, because, after all, we have trained ourselves for quick doses of entertainment. And we need our fill now. So, adieu to creativity and imagination. LOL…nay, ROTFL.

What Are Your Teens Watching?

Dear Parents of Teens,

Do not be complacent in this season, especially as it pertains to what your young teens watch. A recent Parents Television Council (PTC) Report analyzed 255 NETFLIX titles that are deemed “appropriate for teens.” Over 120 of those titles included “harsh profanities” and other disturbing content. The “f-word” appeared in the vast majority of those titles which means one can count on it in most “appropriate for teens” shows/movies.

We can become overwhelmed and allow teens to watch shows assuming the best. But we need to remember that the movie industry–in general–has no interest in preserving ideals of purity. The goal is to provide a philosophy where profanity and sexiness are the new normal. In the long term, this slowly removes the powerful admonitions against homosexuality and other forms of impure and sinful relationships. We begin to see these things in society as normal because we have been catechized by a system that made the obscene an artistic expression.

My recommendations would be three-fold:

First, to look up every movie before giving the green light. Common Sense Media is a great option. Some parental review websites will tell you explicitly the appearance of “positive messages,” “language,” “sex,” and other essential components for parents to know.

Second, when possible watch with them. It is true that when a parent shares in any positive activity with teenagers, there is a psychological bonding that occurs, especially at an intellectual level.

Third, consider other options like VidAngel, Minno, or even Disney Plus for more wholesome alternatives.

Remember that the concern is not so much exposure to the bad. They will be eventually confronted with these realities whether language or sexuality. The concern is with the continual desensitizing to these realities. Too much of something often enough will form new habits and thinking. A steady diet of conversations with your teens about the role of purity and beauty in the Christian life is a matter of life and death.

Sincerely,
Pastor Uriesou Brito

Movie Review: The Grey

The GreyThe Grey is a fascinating display of survival of the fittest. In this case, an unruly group of oil-rig roughnecks find themselves stranded in the Alaskan wilderness after a plane crash. Their only way to survive is to cooperate with one another, and follow John Ottway, played by the masterful Liam Neesen. Neesen’s task before the crash was to defend the workers from wolf attacks. His focused skill as a killer will be put to task when he and his crew find themselves surrounded by the same wolves that he mastered killing.

The men, alarmed by the persevering nature of the wolves to pursue them, begin to abandon their pride, and find themselves bound to one another in their hopes. Unfortunately, the wolves are unwavering in their intentions, and as each man begins to die Ottway begins to ponder the existence of God among the multitude of tragedies before him.

In the end one is left wondering if Ottway finds faith, or whether he assumes the posture of a fighting atheist until death.

Analysis

Christians will find the nature of these men reflected in their profane language, and sexual descriptions. But they should not overlook the intense loyalties of even the roughest of men. At the end of our lives, the gentle and the violent will call for help. The question is, “Will our help be in the Name of the Lord our God, or will we cling to our own strength.?”

Movie Review: Standing Firm

Once in a while I will venture into the low-budget productions in the “Christian movie industry.” Standing Firm is such a movie. The movie details the life of a  father and a son after the death of their wife and mother. It takes us through the troubled story of David (Father), who after losing his wife becomes furious with God. In trying to work tirelessly to pay his bills, he becomes overwhelmed with life. In the midst of despair he finds God, and turns his life around.

The movie portrays his son (Steven) as the faithful Christian who tries desperately to aid his father. His tactics to introduce his father to Christ fail again and again. In the end, however,  the power of prayer joined with the testimony of his son lead the father to Christ, and consequently back to the Church.

The deceased wife lived a fruitful Christian life serving the Church and her family. It takes her death for David to see that his wife had a living relationship with Christ.  Looking back after conversion, he realized that everything  had worked for his own good.

Commentary:

Stories like these are hard to swallow. They strike you with the hidden slogan “Jesus fixes everything.” The reality, however, is that he does not fix everything. A living union with Christ can actually make your life rather complicated. You may begin to risk your life more than before; you may lose friends, and arouse the fury of unbelievers.

The constant sloganizing coupled with the horrendous music offended my ears. This is precisely the type of Christianity that lacks power. It is evangelicalism boiled down to a sinner’s prayer. It misses the grand picture of God’s redeeming work.

At the same time, it is to be commended for revealing that the Christian faith does have ethical consequences in the workplace. Further, it also stresses the necessity of being in the community of faith. It is there that one’s faith is strengthened and most clearly lived out.

Unfortunately, the Church–the brief images of it in the movie–were replete with a miniature gospel proclamation giving the distinct impression that the movie had evangelism as its main purpose. Though there is nothing distinctly wrong with that intention it fails to provide a picture of the faith that is both intellectually sustainable and desirable. The question the movie kept raising was “Why won’t he just accept Christ?” It implied a form of easy-believism of the worst kind. The role of Jesus as Lord did not come in, but a compartmentalized version was central to the storyline.

One concludes that the complaint of David’s co-worker “that his parents had shoved religion down his throat, and therefore he was not interested in David’s new found faith,” is essentially embedded in the entire presentation. The movie felt like religion was being shoved down, and swallowing it was no easy task.  It implied a programmatic model to Christianity that is rather harmful and not beneficial to non-Christians considering the claims of Christ.

I will continue to support these types of movies, because I believe in Christian art as a manifestation of God’s desire to restore culture. However, at the same time I find these attempts falling far short of the Gospel I love so dearly. There is a future for this industry, but it first needs a healthy theology in order to become acceptable. This is evangelicalism at its worst.