I have a confession to make. I love the movies. I read about them, I watch them, I critique them – I even had a bunch of movie reviews published in the early eighties. I’m not as obsessive as some, but I’m a good deal more obsessive than most. I jumped at the chance to speak about theology at the movies. But then, I realized with a sinking heart, I would have to reveal the great love, verging on mania, that I have for the art form; digital or analog, rotoscoped or all one continuous take, animated or live action or CGI. I love movies for their pounding soundtracks and their wistful lietmotifs; the energetic and subtle performances of human chameleons; the polish and precision of the planning, technology and execution of a really great shot; the behind the scenes dramas, tempestuous romances and epic legal battles; the way you can watch a really great movie twenty times and appreciate it more with each viewing; the way trashy movies from your childhood can cheer you up in no time; the way a movie that is an all ages cross cultural hit can make everyone feel, however temporarily, like we are all members of the same family.
As Willa Cather remarked in a novel, There are only two or three human stories, and they go on repeating themselves as fiercely as if they had never happened before. There are a lot of lists of plot types, but to me there are only three. Human vs. Human, human vs. Self, human vs. Elements. There are story traditions without conflict; the Japanese in particular have perfected ways of making movies in which there’s no struggle, just life and all of its pains, pleasures and changes; they get called art films because ‘nothing happens’.
Every time I hear somebody complain about the repetitiveness of modern movies, I have to laugh. Recycling plots and characters has been a feature of plays and entertainments for 2500 years. While a conformity of explosions and cleavage has taken over big budget movies, let us be thankful for the improvements in affordable cinema technology, which have allowed people like actor/writer/director/composer Shane Carruth to bring his visions to the screen with his science fiction movies Primer and Upstream Color. The drop in cost has allowed poor people and marginalized people to record and document and publicize their lives as Kimberley Rivers Roberts did in the documentary about Katrina called Trouble the Water. It has allowed us to bring our imaginings to bear on photographs of the deep sea and the forest canopies and the vastness of outer space, and tell new stories with new energy, a firmer grasp of what it is to be human, and less concern with commercial success. It is now possible to make a movie – a good movie, an interesting movie – for less than it costs to buy a new car.
My love of the movies comes from my parents. When I was little, my parents had 16 millimeter silent films; Chaplin and Keystone Cops and Laurel and Hardy; they had a sound projector too, so I watched the Weavers sing their songs, including an incredibly young and slender Pete Seeger. I associated watching films with family bonding time.
These days I ask two things from movies; one is “Can you take me somewhere I haven’t been before?” so that I am removed from my normal concerns and brought into a world I could not have imagined.
This demand for novelty isn’t just ‘show me something new’, but “I wish to be told a compelling story by a confident and competent storyteller. Take me out of my comfort zone. Put me in a situation I would never find myself in, and walk with me and the characters. Avoid the cliches and the tropes and the bad habits of modern filmmaking; no explosions today, thanks.”
The other thing I ask is the very simple, “Tell me your truth.” If I am to fully live my values, I hope to spend more time asking myself how a particular film is going to bring more compassion, wisdom, or self-knowledge into my life. In documentaries, I want accuracy and accountability; in fiction I want a story that can be told no other way. For films which seek to uplift, a clear call to action is part of the experience.
Which is funny, because movies make you sit in one place for a couple of hours.
It’s after the movie is over that the magic really starts. A good movie makes memories; memories of sitting around the coffee shop after the show and arguing about what the point of the movie was with your friends. A good movie becomes part of your artistic vocabulary, part of the catchphrases and in jokes of your family. A good movie is made by people who understand that it’s going to have an effect on your nervous system and they won’t make you pull out your handkerchief without a good reason. A good movie makes you think and feel and stretches you a little, shows you your mental quirks and cognitive biases – and loves you anyway.
How should we watch a movie? I want to be experiential, not prescriptive. Nobody wants to watch Old Yeller the week their dog dies, and nobody wants to watch My Big Fat Greek Wedding when they were jilted at the altar. I really don’t want to tell you what to do; but I do want you to think about your movie watching habits. Mine have changed quite a bit in the last five years; I watch many more documentaries, and I’m trying to watch movies that have unstuck themselves from the gender norms and racial profiling that pursued us out of the twentieth century and into the twenty-first.
What to do?
One is to stop watching any movie if you think it is a waste of time. Turn it off. I frequently stop watching movies that I think are bunk, that are gory or sexist or trite or racist or boring. I’ve even walked out of movies I paid for. If we have but one wild and precious life, let’s not watch crappy movies.
Another challenge is to think of a movie not as a piece of entertainment, but as a commentary on our culture.
What is it REALLY saying? About gender roles, about love, about violence, about authority, about the ages and stages of the characters?
Whose voices are being heard, and whose voices are on the cutting room floor?
Whose interests are being served by the assumptions that underly the plot and characters?
What shape is your own humanity in at the end of the film?
Some of you may already know about the Bechdel test, which was invented by Alison Bechdel as part of her amazing comic series Dykes to Watch Out For. In it, a character says that in order for her to feel comfortable about watching a movie, there have to be at least two named female characters, and they have a conversation that doesn’t revolve around the needs of the leading man. There are an amazing number of movies which don’t meet this simple feminist test (including a lot of movies I like) but that will just give you an idea of how there can be theological implications in your movie choices. If you believe in equal rights for women, why not show it at the box office?
One of my theological tests is that I immediately want to stop watching movies which show fathers as stupid, lazy or incapable of appropriately interacting with their own children. My father wasn’t like that. My husband wasn’t like that. If there are fathers in the congregation like that you’ve done a good job of hiding it. Why spend money to support an outdated and morally bankrupt view of men? It isn’t funny!
Trust your instincts. You may not be able to put your finger on or put into words why you find a movie disturbing, or overly commercial, or ugly in some way; but I guarantee that if somehow you object to the moral tone of a movie, you won’t hurt anybody if you refrain from finishing it. Even if you paid for the movie… hey, maybe you can get your money back. And if you’re at home, even more reason not to.
Spend your movie dollars differently. If you have $12 in your pocket for a ‘movie experience’ you might want to consider using that money to fund a documentarian or minority film-maker working on challenging subject matter. You’ll have to wait longer for your movie, but you’ll be living your values in a different way.
There are a remarkable number of Unitarian congregations who run movie nights on social justice themes, and have really great discussions after the movie to consolidate what’s been learned and felt. We could do that. We could rate movies on our facebook pages with a seven star system, one star for each of our principles, letting other Unitarians know when movies meet basic requirements.
Whenever you watch movies, be the part of the audience that stays mindful. Resist the urge to have some sentimental popcorn and turn off your brain. When something offends you, respectfully engage with the producers, directors and studio – leave the actors alone, since in most cases they didn’t finance it. And when something is good, and respects all persons and the world we live in, don’t forget to share it with your friends!
I will let Willa Cather have the last word, since it sums up my fierce obsession with the movies. “There is no God but one God and Art is his revealer; that’s my creed and I’ll follow it to the end, to a hotter place than Pittsburgh if need be.”
