Beautiful Necessities: American Beauty and the Idea of Freedom

by David L. Smith

Abstract

[1] A central theme of American Beauty is the disjunction between the quests for liberation undertaken by its characters and the discoveries at which a few of them arrive. The world of the film is carefully structured as a culturally deterministic system. Nevertheless, a kind of freedom�epitomized by the experience of beauty�becomes possible for some of the characters even in the grip of fatal necessities. The Buddhist concept of mushotoku (non-attainment) and Emerson�s idea of Beautiful Necessity are used to explicate the film�s complex exploration of freedom and fate.

Article

[2] The mystery of American Beauty is the way it takes some of the most familiar themes in modern American popular culture�the attempt to change one�s life, to achieve liberation from constraining circumstances, to become oneself�and gives them fresh and surprising life. What saves the film from clich�, I will argue, is its fine sense for the paradoxical nature of the quests for freedom it depicts. Paradox arises because the world of American Beauty is a closed, culturally deterministic system. Its characters are perfect creatures of their social locations. They may hope for something �more,� but their very conception of this �more� derives from the culture that confines and defines their desires. Their stories are correspondingly bleak and self-defeating. And yet, American Beauty is not a bleak or pessimistic film. Possibilities of meaning and freedom emerge from its deterministic world that have little to do with its characters� conscious intentions. The film, we might say, is a meditation on the disconnect between the narrative quests of its characters and the meaning that, in a few cases, happens to them. My purpose in this paper, then, will be first to explicate the film from this point of view, showing how it plays with ironic disjunctions between quest and attainment, freedom and fate, and second, to suggest how certain analogues from religious thought, especially the Buddhist concept of non-attainment and certain themes from Emerson, can help us to unpack its paradoxes.

[3] Admittedly, many of the film�s reviewers have not shared my sense that the film succeeds in avoiding the undertow of clich�. For nay-sayers, American Beauty is simply another version of the numbingly familiar story of individual liberation from social convention, with a few extra elements of sensationalism thrown in to up the commercial ante (masturbation! recreational drugs! borderline pedophilia!).1 Like films from The Graduate to Pleasantville,2 it sets its drama of emancipation in suburbia, rehearsing the message that life tends to go stale within the confines of a picket-fence, consumerist, career-driven version of the American dream. Its particular characters and story-line are drawn in broad, even �cartoonish"3 strokes: man quits dead-end job in disgust, loosens up, and finds new life in adolescent fantasy; career-obsessed woman comes to a bad end; boy and girl, drawn together by hatred of their respective families, make plans to take off for the city. This tale of liberation through non-conformity is by now so familiar, so co-opted, so devoid of any real critical edge, that it is natural to wonder why anyone would be interested.4

[4] Positive reviews of the film, on the other hand, have had a hard time identifying the secret of its power or substantiating the reasons for it�s extraordinary critical and popular success.5 Good acting is part of the answer; inspired cinematography likewise. But many viewers and reviewers also point to �something else.� Kenneth Turan in the LA Times, for example, writes of something �undefinable� about American Beauty that makes its satire seem �more familiar than it is."6 In the same spirit of puzzled wonder, the terms �mystical� and �spiritual� frequently crop up in connection with the rapt aesthetic of beauty that inspires some of the film�s characters.7 Vague as such terms may be, I propose to take them seriously, and to try to explicate the �mystical� or more broadly spiritual aura of American Beauty as clearly as possible. This dimension of the film comes into focus, I will show, when we notice how American Beauty establishes two distinct critical or interpretive frames around its story which produce the film�s deepest impressions through their interplay. One of these frameworks is social-psychological, the other broadly spiritual or religious.

[5] First, the film is carefully structured to put its characters� social and psychological motives in critical perspective. Specifically, it shows how the characters� quests for freedom are, in every case, symptoms of their starting points, expressions of the complexes from which they are trying to escape. The formal organization of the film, including its �cartoonish� simplification of character, is designed to make this point. The story focuses on two families, the Fitts� and the Burnham�s, who are next door neighbors and who inhabit two distinctive complexes of cultural values and personality types�two architectural and sociological boxes. The Fitts family represents what we might as well call the military-industrial complex. The head of the family is a retired Air Force Colonel, identified in the script consistently as �the Colonel� rather than by name. The code of life he imposes on his family is a caricature of military discipline: relentless self-control above all, with a dedication to drawing and enforcing boundaries exemplified by his homophobia and violent response to rule-breaking. Next door, the Burnham household represents another typically contemporary complex of values. Robert Bellah might want to call it �expressive individualism,� but I will call it the consumerist-entertainment complex. Lester, the father, works in advertising. Carolyn, the mother, is a kind of manic Martha Stewart who struggles to succeed at selling real estate, schools herself with self-improvement tapes, and dotes on material symbols of her achievement (Italian silk upholstery, a Mercedes SUV). The guiding light of the Burnham household, then, is desire�the drive for success, the drive for pleasure, and the drive towards a more perfect arrangement of appearances. (�See the way the handle on those pruning shears matches her gardening clogs?� says Lester in reference to Carolyn. �That�s not an accident.�(2)8 If the Fitts illustrate the tragic effects of the repression of desire, the Burnhams represent the pitfalls of its pursuit.

[6] The paths to emancipation taken by members of the respective families, in turn, reflect the complexes that nurtured them. Ricky Fitts, son of Colonel Fitts, uses and sells marijuana, but significantly, the variety he prefers was �genetically engineered by the U.S. Government.�(46) That is to say, the culture of control, now taking charge of the blueprints of life itself, gives Ricky the means by which he seeks to transcend his family, to escape the culture of control. Another way in which Ricky finds a kind of freedom is through the view-finder of his video camera. Ricky casts himself as a professional observer, a student of other peoples� lives with no compunctions about peeping through their windows. He transforms ordinary experience by distancing it on film, asserting a kind of control over life through the neat rows of tapes that line his bedroom. But here again, the influence of the military-industrial complex is clear. Who is more adept at surveillance than the military? And who engineered the sophisticated equipment by which Ricky engineers his detachment? Ricky is thus caught in a bind that is familiar to anyone who has reflected on the paradoxes of contemporary popular culture, where anti-technological life styles are celebrated with electric instruments and anti-capitalist rock bands are promoted by AOL Time Warner. The wildly mixed messages compel one to wonder how far emancipation by such means can go.

[7] The rebellious members of the Burnham family are in a similar bind. They seek to mitigate or change their circumstances through drives, values, and impulses acquired from the cultural complexes they seek to escape. As products of the consumerist-entertainment complex, they seek satisfaction in raw desire�the yearning for self-completion through acquisition, through novel experience, and through the manipulation of appearances. Thus, young Jane builds for the future by saving up her baby-sitting money for a �boob job.�(72) Carolyn, whose kitsch romanticism extends to her choice of �Bali Hai� as dinner music, yearns her way into an affair with Buddy Kane, �the Real Estate King,� who represents everything she longs to become. (His �personal philosophy� provides the perfect mantra for her preoccupation with appearances: �in order to be successful, one must project an image of success, at all times.�[51]) Finally, Lester, in the film�s main plot line, quits his job in order to get back his life, to renew himself by falling back on his instincts.9 His instincts turn out to be pretty regressive, however. He develops a crush on a teenage girl; devotes himself to working out because he wants to �look good naked;�(44) and buys on impulse a 1970 Firebird, the car he �always wanted.�(68) (It�s red, of course�the color of desire, like the Burnham�s front door, Carolyn�s roses, and Lester�s own rose-petal fantasies). Lester�s pursuit of the girl, Angela, becomes the center of attention in the film for a number of reasons, not the least of which is pure prurience. Nevertheless, we can see how it fits the themes under discussion here. As in Lolita, the hyper-romanticism of a tabooed attraction becomes a symbol of the culture that nurtures it�a culture of yearning, for which real life is always elsewhere. Lester Burnham is no Humbert Humbert, but his middle-class desires are a match in both intensity and inappropriateness for those of Nabokov�s cultured �migr�.10

[8] This analysis of the characters� motives points to a conclusion that has become rather routine in academic Culture Studies: in short, no exit. Culture is a totalistic system that affords no leverage point by which a genuine project of emancipation could get itself off the ground. Every apparent way out is already subsumed, already co-opted. The system may offer mitigations and palliatives�ways to keep hope alive�but no real alternatives. Ricky gets his drugs; Jane, Lester, and Carolyn get their romantic visions; but these are too deeply implicated in the system for us to even imagine an �elsewhere� to which they might lead. The conclusion of the story makes the futility and fatality of their choices clear. Lester is dead. Carolyn has lost her lover, her family, and probably her sanity. Jane�s plans for escape are about to be thwarted and the Fitts��father, son, or both�will soon be picked up by the police for Lester�s murder. (Lester�s blood is on the Colonel�s shirt; Ricky is on film offering to make the hit.)11 In the end, then, history fails as a realm of freedom or source of meaning for any of the characters. It is rather a system of strict cause and effect, a karmic wheel, in which doing what one wants is equivalent to bondage under the iron law of one�s conditioning.12

[9] What hope is there, then, for freedom? The remarkable thing about American Beauty is that it does not take that question as rhetorical. Instead of settling for one of the stock contemporary responses to meaninglessness (playful nihilism, apocalyptic nihilism, existentialist posturing, or blind faith) it simply and honestly treats the question as worth raising. If meaning is not to be found through emancipatory projects, then where is it to be found? If freedom does not consist in doing what one wants, then what is it?

[10] To address these questions, the film constructs another critical frame around its story, loosely built of the moments in which various characters find their lives lit up by beauty. As noted above, the world of the film is not devoid of meaning. The kind of meaning its characters stumble across, however, is oblique or even irrelevant to their stories, to self-understandings that remain bound and blinkered by their circumstances. It has little to do with what anyone intends or thinks they are doing. And yet, when beauty emerges, it makes a difference, somehow transforming or opening up the realm of necessity from within. Thus, the world of American Beauty may offer no chance for freedom in the sense of escape, autonomy, or triumphant self-creation. It does, however, suggest something that Emerson discovered meditating on the similar themes in his essay �Fate:� namely, that necessity, without our knowing how or why, can sometimes appear as �Beautiful Necessity."13 For Emerson, this arose through the realization that �freedom is necessary"14 � that there is no gap between the conditions that seem to constrain us and the values we hope to realize. The trap is transformed, we might say, through the insight that the trap is what we are, and through the sense of aesthetic appropriateness or �beauty� that accompanies the realization. A similar transvaluation of the problem of life through beauty is, to my mind, the real subject of American Beauty.

[11] I have called this aspect of the film �spiritual� for a number of reasons. First and most obviously, I do so because beauty enters the film in moments the characters themselves find intense, extraordinary, and revelatory which they sometimes characterize in explicitly religious terms. Ricky Fitts is the source of the two clearest cases of religious interpretation. With reference to a video he once took of a homeless woman frozen to death on the sidewalk�a touchstone for him of the world�s beauty and sadness�he says �When you see something like that, it�s like God is looking right at you, just for a second. And if you�re careful, you can look right back.�(57) Second, there is Ricky�s film of a plastic bag whirled by the wind, the film�s central icon of beauty. About this Ricky says: �That�s the day I realized that there was this entire life behind things, and this incredibly benevolent force that wanted me to know there was no reason to be afraid. Ever.�(60) Less explicitly religious, but bearing a strong family resemblance to mystical literature through its theme of self-overcoming, is Lester�s final comment in voice-over:

�Sometimes I feel like I�m seeing it all at once, and it�s too much, my heart fills up like a balloon that�s about to burst�.and then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain and I can�t feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life�.�(100)

Comments like these put the viewer in mind of fairly familiar notions of transcendence, suggesting alternative horizons of meaning that place the film�s cynical take on history in a wider perspective.

[12] A similar point is made through the literal �framing� of the film between Lester�s voice-overs. We know from the start that our narrator is a dead man. He soars with the camera above the neighborhood whose formal layout shaped his life. He floats free of time. His story is over; he knows what the dead know. And so his presence at the edges of the film hints at a dimension beyond the story, even while it is being told.15 That dimension, however, has nothing to do with a literal promise of life after death, let alone with the stock Hollywood motif of the intervening angel. Rather, what Lester�s perspective brings to the film is the suggestion of a larger structure of selfhood�a life �both in and out of the game,� as Whitman put it.16 We are cued that the stories about to unfold are not going to tell us everything there is to know. Thus, like Ricky�s God-language, the voice-overs introduce the promise of alternative sources of meaning.

[13] Two episodes in the film stand out as fulfillments of that promise, moments in which the power of beauty becomes palpable to the audience as well as to the characters. First, there is Ricky�s video of the dancing plastic bag�the film�s most haunting visual image. Beauty, as epitomized in this scene, is an intrinsic value that is everywhere but seems to come out of nowhere. It emerges here from a situation that is utterly deterministic�a scrap of plastic caught in a vortex of cross-winds�and utterly ordinary, encountered �in an empty parking lot on a cold gray day�� (echoing Emerson�s similarly fortuitous moment on �a bare common, in snow puddles, at twilight, under a clouded sky�).17 (10) Ricky�s other encounters with beauty are similarly quotidian and similarly fatal: in a dead bird, in an old woman frozen on the curb, and in the sadness of the girl next door. Whatever its occasion, though, beauty is intrinsically meaningful�a satisfaction unmatched by anything else represented in the film. It brings the characters who �get it� (Lester, Ricky, possibly Jane) a sense of meaning that is absolute and unquestionable�complete in a way that even threatens to cancel out the rest of life. As Ricky says, �sometimes there�s so much beauty in the world I feel like I can�t take it�and my heart is going to cave in.�(60) A close neighbor of death, beauty is at once eschatologically and ontologically ultimate; it interrupts or puts an end to the stories we struggle to sustain and speaks from beyond them.18 It is thus appropriate that beauty is what evokes the film�s only God-language. In those moments when Ricky feels that God is looking at him, beauty is what he sees when he looks back.

[14] Insofar as beauty stands apart from the characters� intentional quests�as a gratuitous interruption of the life of desire rather than a moment within it�it is strictly useless. It is simply a way of seeing the world clearly, apart from what we would make of it. Nevertheless, this kind of clarity can also have consequences for how life is lived. So in the film, a second focal moment in which meaning becomes palpable is a moral event: Lester�s last-minute renunciation of his pursuit of Angela. Like the epiphanies of beauty, this moral epiphany is a simple matter of seeing clearly. Lester�s desire for Angela had been driven by illusions and wishes�represented for us in the film�s lurid fantasy sequences. Granted: his illusion about Angela is not too different from the illusion that Angela held about herself and tried, rather awkwardly, to project to others. This whole network of projection and self-deception dissolves, however, when, just as the flirtation is about to be consummated, Angela lets Lester see who she really is�admitting to her inexperience, changing her story. Lester, in turn, responds with poise, generosity, and tenderness. He does the right thing. It is not a triumph of principle, but a triumph of natural compassion and clear, unclouded perception. Lester in the end thus finds and exercises freedom�not the freedom to do what he wants, but the freedom to deal mindfully with what is real�and so discovers the beauty in his necessities.19 He has not found a way out of his circumstances, but he has found a way to own them that makes possible his final affectionate review of the moments of joy that punctuated his �stupid little life."(100)20

[15] What sort of freedom is possible, then, in a deterministic system? What sort of liberation from the trap of culture is possible if the trap is what we are? What American Beauty suggests, I believe, is first of all that freedom, although it is not likely to be achieved by intentional effort, nevertheless may occur to us as an experienced quality, like the beauty that emerges from the dance of the wind-driven bag. It is not found beyond fate (i.e. we do not become who we are by becoming other than we are). Rather, it comes as an affirmative moment within fate, as in Emerson�s Nietzschean tribute to �Beautiful Necessity� or Lester Burnham�s joyful post-mortem embrace of �every single moment of my stupid little life�. Freedom is the discovery of beauty in our necessities, even as the trap is sprung and (in Lester�s case, literally) the gun is put to our head.

[16] What is �attained� in such freedom is thus paradoxical, because it brings nothing that one did not previously have. What is recovered is something from which one was never really separated. The spiritual �discoveries� of characters in American Beauty thus need to be understood on the model of something like what Soto Zen calls mushotoku or �non-attainment.� According to this view, enlightenment, as an unconditioned reality, is outside all trains of cause and effect: not attained, not lost; neither an addition to life nor a subtraction from it. By its own seamless nature, it cannot come as the result of a quest or project in time; it cannot �come� at all, for it is not possible to be apart from it. Thus, as the Buddha reportedly says in the Diamond Sutra, �When I attained Absolute Perfect Enlightenment, I attained absolutely nothing. That is why it is called Absolute Perfect Enlightenment."21 Religious life may seem like a quest, a journey to the other shore, and may actually be structured as one. However, the actual relation, if any, between effort and attainment is not constrained by this narrative logic. The way keeps to its own ways, or as a Ch�an poem puts it:

�Sitting quietly, doing nothing,
Spring comes and the grass grows by itself."22

[17] This is not to say that the characters� quests in American Beauty are completely irrelevant to the meaning they find. Ricky�s pursuit of beauty on video-tape is in some sense a means to his discovery of beauty in odd places (as is, perhaps, his use of marijuana). Lester�s growth in moral insight is a clear though unintended consequence of his restlessness. Because he quits his job, he loosens up; because he loosens up, he pays attention; and because he pays attention, he recovers his world. Nevertheless, my point in this paper has been that the genius of American Beauty is the way it places these relatively conventional narrative quests in the context of a wider skepticism and a wider promise. Time, in the world of the film, is a fools game, but not all of the characters are fools. Some of them manage to draw on sources that precede, exceed, and evade their own habits of self-reflection. They find themselves �both in and out of the game,� and would not be themselves apart from this doubleness. In the end, it is the interplay between these perspectives�between the inescapable logic of the cultural game and the equally commanding moments in which we find ourselves apart from it; between the fatality of our traps and the possibility of freedom that persists within them�that constitutes the mysterious achievement of American Beauty.

NOTES

1. Dismissive reviews from respected critics included Stuart Klawans in The Nation ( �The Boys of Summer,� 269 no. 11 (October 11, 1999) pp. 34-36; J. Hoberman in the Village Voice (�Boomer Bust�); and Stanley Kauffmann in The New Republic (�In Search of an Author� 221 no. 15 (October 11, 1999) pp. 36-38.

2. My quick survey of other films and television shows with which American Beauty was compared by early reviewers turned up the following: Sunset Boulevard (for the dead narrator voice-overs), Lolita, Sex, Lies & Videotape, Happiness, Election, The Apartment, Network, Blue Velvet, After Hours, It�s a Wonderful Life (for the �angel� motif), �Married with Children,� Welcome to the Dollhouse� and The Ice Storm.

3. The cartoon quality of several of the characters, especially Carolyn and Colonel Fitts, is lamented by Richard Alleva in �No �Leave It to Beaver�,� Commonweal 19-20 126, no. 19 (November 5, 1999). Jay Carr in The Boston Globe (September 17, 1999) Arts & Film C4, refers to Carolyn as �a Stepford Wife on acid.�

4. Like several otherwise appreciative reviewers, Janet Maslin in The New York Times saw the film as little more than a celebration of non-conformity. (�Dad�s Dead, and He�s Still a Funny Guy� September 15, 1999, Section E, page 1.) If this were all there was to be said about the movie, I would agree with its negative reviewers.

5. Within a year of its release, the film had grossed over 130 million dollars, starting from a 15 million dollar production budget. (See www.boxofficemojo.com/americanbeauty.html) It won the Academy Award for Best Picture of 1999.

6. �The Rose�s Thorns� September 15, 1999, Part F, p. 1. David Denby, �Transcending the Suburbs,� New Yorker 75, no. 27 (September 20, 1999): pp. 133-135, for a sense of wonder at how well the film works.

7. See David Denby, �Transcending the Suburbs,� New Yorker 75, no. 27 (September 20, 1999): pp. 133-135, for a sense of wonder at how well the film works.

8. Page numbers for quotes from the screenplay by Alan Ball refer to American Beauty: The Shooting Script (New York: Newmarket Press, 1999).

9. Kevin Spacey develops this view of Lester, the character he plays, in an interview with Jay Stone in The Ottawa Citizen, September 15, 1999, B8, Front.

10. N.b. Angela�s last name is �Hayes,� echoing Nabokov�s Dolores Haze.

11. An early version of script is available in the Internet which begins with Ricky in prison.

12. A similar theme of entrapment is apparent in the conventions Alan Ball has established for his latest project, the TV serial �Six Feet Under.� Each episode begins with a death, a fatality that can�t be escaped but simply dealt with. Each of the regular characters, moreover, faces intractable confining circumstances, placing them in situations very much in keeping with the implications of the title and the visual theme of boxes in the show�s opening credits.

13. Ralph Waldo Emerson, Essays & Lectures (New York: The Library of America, 1983), p. 967.

14. Ibid., p. 953.

15. Reviewers have frequently compared this device to the famous use of a dead narrator in Sunset Boulevard. The comparison is close, but it only serves to highlight the differences between the films. In Sunset Boulevard, the voice-over is a tool of irony, allowing the narrator to crack jokes at his own expense and come to terns with the inevitability of his downfall. But something far more positive and spacious is achieved in American Beauty through the same device.

16. Walt Whitman, �Song of Myself,� in Complete Poetry and Collected Prose (New York: The Library of America, 1982), p. 191.

17. Emerson, op. cit., p. 10.

18. To invoke Emerson again, �Beauty is the creator of the universe� (op. cit, p. 445)�present before time

19. Significantly, I think, one catches an echo here of the slogan used on the film�s publicity posters: ��look closer.� The way this phrase is presented in the ads, layered over a close-up of Angela�s naked belly, plays rather shamelessly on the prurience of the plot. Its second level of meaning, however, is a fair summary of the film�s deepest theme��Examine the motives that are drawing you to these images. Pay attention!� American Beauty is a film about prurience�about all that we find so desirable and entertaining in this world�that aims at disenchanting prurience. It is a film about desire in which desire is ultimately dissolved in clarity. And always, seeing is the key. Eyes and vision are recurring motifs throughout the film: notably, in Ricky�s reference to the eye of God; in the unblinking, fearless intensity of Ricky�s gaze, which so impresses Jane; and in the final look in Lester�s eye at the moment of his death, which so impresses Ricky. (What is it that the dead know?)

20. Like Gregor Samsa in Kafka�s �The Metamorphosis,� Lester dies still in the grip of his predicament, but nevertheless in a state of �vast and peaceful meditation,� thinking back on his family life with �tenderness and joy.� Franz Kafka, The Complete Stories (New York: Schocken Books, 1971), p. 135.

21. Diamond Sutra, A. F. Price translation, quoted in The Enlightened Mind, Stephen Mitchell, ed. (New York: HarperPerennial, 1991) p. 35. For other examples of the logic of non-attainment, which is closely related to non-dualism, see David Loy, Non-Duality: A Study in Comparative Philosophy (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1988; Amherst, NY: Humanity Books, 1998).

22. Quoted in Alan Watts, The Way of Zen, p. 134.

*Journal of Religion and Film, Vol. 6 No. 2 October 2002

Jesus in Film: Hollywood Perspectives on the Jewishness of Jesus

by Adele Reinhartz

Abstract

Article

[1] Jesus of Nazareth is arguably the most ubiquitous figure in western culture. From the first century to the present, he appears in thousands of literary, visual, and aural representations. As new media were developed, these too became vehicles through which to consider and reconsider the story, the characteristics, and the impact of this central figure. In our own era, it is the film medium which has made the most visible and popular contribution to the body of media representations of Jesus. Jesus movies are popular in two senses. First, they are directed primarily towards the general population, and hence tell the story in a way that is designed to appeal to and be comprehended by any viewers no matter what their background and education. Second, they receive broad circulation, in movie theaters, on television and on video.

[2] The cinematic portraits of Jesus differ considerably from one another, just as Jesus portraits have done from the very beginning of the Christian movement. The New Testament itself, which in one way or another is a source for these cinematic portraits, contains a large variety of such depictions, from the detailed narratives of four different gospels through the portraits implied by the epistles of Paul and his successors, and the book of Revelation. The variety of film depictions reflects a number of factors, including the individual proclivities of directors and producers, the specific purpose of each movie, broader social trends, and, to some degree, scholarly developments as well. One feature that these movies have in common is the assertion, either direct or indirect, of Jesus’ Jewishness. That Jesus was a Jew might seem so obvious as to warrant little discussion. The New Testament sources are unanimous on this point; New Testament scholars are similarly convinced.2 But this unanimity is deceptive. The claim that Jesus was a Jew has a different content and significance within each of the Jesus portraits.

[3] The purpose of this article is to survey a number of Jesus movies with respect to the portrayal of Jesus’ Jewishness. As a New Testament scholar, I am curious to see how these celluloid representations of Jesus compare to academic depictions. For this reason, I begin by presenting briefly three trends in current historical Jesus research that construct Jesus’ Jewishness in different ways. As a Jewish New Testament scholar, however, my interest in this question is fuelled by a conviction that the cinematic representations of Jesus both reflect and also affect cultural perceptions of both Jesus and Judaism. My survey of the films will therefore also consider issues of reception, and specifically, the image of Jesus and Judaism that emerges from each.

I. Trends in Historical Jesus Research

1. The Eschatological-Apocalyptic Jesus

[4] For Ed Sanders, Geza Vermes, S�an Freyne, Paula Fredriksen, and a host of other Christian and Jewish scholars, Jesus’ Jewishness is central to their construction of his identity and earthly career.3 These scholars picture Jesus as a Jew like most of those around him in Galilee. He observed both the ritual and the ethical requirements of the law,4 including the laws of Sabbath, purity, sacrifice and atonement.5 His teachings were similar to those of the Pharisees,6 and he subscribed fully to the notions of election and Torah. Most important to Jesus’ mission were eschatology and apocalyptic thinking, which led him to see and portray himself as a prophet of the eschaton. He foresaw an end to the current world order when God would step in to create a radically new order. Like other prophets before him, he strongly protested what he saw as the corruption of true worship in the Temple and hence both spoke and acted against the priests who had authority there.7 In this model, Jesus, and Jesus scholars, have a positive attitude to Judaism. Jesus is situated firmly within a Jewish context that bears a strong resemblance to rabbinic Judaism and indeed remains familiar within the framework of traditional Judaism today.

2. Jesus the Jewish Cynic

[5] A second scholarly trend in the current quest of the historical Jesus focuses not on what was specific to Galilean Judaism but rather on the features which Galilean Jews shared with other groups in the Mediterranean area. Jesus’ pithy sayings and aphoristic social critique resemble in form and content the "wit and wisdom of the wandering Cynic sage."8 Like Gentile Cynics, Jesus and his disciples traveled light, lived on the road, and challenged others to live as they did. Jesus’ message may have been more communally-oriented than that of the Gentile Cynics, and he may have frequented rural rather than the urban areas in which Gentile Cynics operated, but otherwise there was little to distinguish between them.9 For Jesus the Jewish cynic, the kingdom was not a future cataclysmic event but was present now in the quality of people’s relations with on another. His willingness to eat with sinners and touch the sick was a direct challenge to the laws, mores and social boundaries of common Judaism. Jesus’ message was symbolized above all in Jesus’ opposition to the temple.10 This opposition, however, is not to be construed as eschatological in any way. The Cynic hypothesis does not deny Jesus’ Jewishness but rather argues that his placement in first-century Galilee and his Jewish identity did not keep him from being critical of or even unconcerned with certain aspects of his culture including religious ones.11

3. The Anti-Nationalist Jesus

[6] The third scholarly model, represented by Marcus Borg and N. T. Wright, pictures Jesus in decidedly anti-nationalist terms.12 While acknowledging that Jesus used apocalyptic language, this model argues that such language was understood metaphorically rather than literally.13 Jesus was a prophet engaged in radical social criticism expressed through his opposition to the Temple-centred purity-obsessed society and through his practice of inclusive table fellowship. His vision was the formation of an alternative community that sought to live in history under the kingship of God. But the kingdom of God was not an eschatological construct. Rather, it was expected here on earth in the time-space world.14 In contrast to other leaders within Jewish Palestine, who engaged in the politics of purity, Jesus preached and lived the politics of compassion.15 Jesus called Israel away from the rules of Deuteronomy which had been only a temporary phase in God’s purposes, and he acted out against the Temple which was the symbol of Judaism’s violent nationalism.16

4. Conclusions

[7] All of these models present a Jewish Jesus. The importance of Jesus’ specific ethnic and religious identity varies, however, alongside the differing exegeses of the primary sources and the constructions of Jesus’ Palestinian context. All have in common an attempt to present Judaism in neutral or positive terms. To some extent this attempt simply reflects the norms of historical-critical scholarship, which aims for objectivity even while acknowledging the difficulties in achieving it. But this approach is also influenced by the specifically post-Holocaust context of current New Testament scholarship which on the whole is sensitive to the Gospels’ susceptibility to anti-Semitic readings.17

II. The Cinematic Jesus

1. D. W. Griffith, Intolerance, 1916

[8] This lengthy silent film interweaves the so-called Judean story of Jesus with three other narratives from different time periods. The Judean story is not a full Jesus story but discrete scenes which emphasize the conflict between Jesus and the Pharisees. Griffith’s portrayal of the Pharisees focuses on their role in persecuting Jesus and the general population, their hypocrisy, and their intolerance of wine and revelry. Jesus is shown as a Jew insofar as he participates in Jewish rites -- such as the wedding at Cana -- in which wine is important.

[9] The movie betrays some evidence of historical research. Relying on the expertise of advisors such as a Rabbi Isadore Myers, the film explains Jewish groups and customs in a way which at least sounds scholarly, while at the same time conveying Griffith’s strong ideological agenda. Hence the Pharisees are described as "a learned Jewish party, the name possibly brought into disrepute later by hypocrites among them." This intertitle may have been intended to absolve the Jews as a whole, and the Pharisees as a group, from the charge of hypocrisy. Another note explains that "Wine was deemed a fit offering to God; the drinking of it a part of the Jewish religion." At the same time as it explains the context of the Cana miracle, when Jesus turned water into wine, this note also promotes Griffith’s anti-temperance agenda which is prominent elsewhere in the film.

[10] Although film-makers in the early part of this century were not as sensitized to the issue of anti-Semitism as were their post-holocaust counterparts, Griffith did engage in some efforts to avoid negative Jewish reactions. Following upon strong protests by B’nai Brith, Griffith excised those segments that depicted the Jewish leaders as crucifying Jesus. These changes reduced the Judean story to a mere twelve minutes of this three and a half hour opus.19

[11] These efforts, while laudable in the historical context of the film industry in the early years of this century, are largely ineffective in neutralizing the anti-Jewish tone of the "Judean story" within this film. The note which praises Jewish worship for including wine does not convey a sincere appreciation of Judaism so much as a promotion of Griffith’s anti-Temperance agenda. The note that not all Pharisees were hypocrites barely conceals Griffith’s condemnation of this group. These and other comments strike a pseudo-scholarly tone that fails to convince. The omission of the Jews from the Passion account, and the inclusion of a number of explanatory points are overshadowed by the overall depiction of Jesus as the victim of Pharisees, who are supercilious and intolerant hypocrites at some remove from the common people.

2. Pier Paolo Pasolini, The Gospel According to St. Matthew, 1966; Italian with English subtitles.

[12] As its name implies, Pasolini’s film is an artistic rendition of the Gospel of Matthew. It is set in a generic Mediterranean context that has no specifically Jewish features. The use of black and white rather than color dislodges the story from its specific geographical context, while the generally nondescript costuming does the same with respect to the social and ethnic context. Both plot line and dialogue are taken exclusively from the Gospel, although some scenes are omitted or rearranged. Like "Intolerance," the movie draws a sharp distinction between Jesus and his followers on the one hand, and the Jewish authorities on the other. This distinction is emphasized through the visual presentation. One striking aspect of this presentation is headgear. Throughout the film, individuals and groups are differentiated from one another by their hats, or the absence of hats. Jesus, his followers, and the peasant crowds all have bare heads, and hairstyles which look more modern than ancient. The Jewish authorities, in contrast, are characterized by much elaborate and even preposterous looking headgear -- copied from medieval Italian art -- that clashes visibly with their contemporary hairstyles.

[13] The similarities between the Jesus of Pier Paolo Pasolini’s 1966 film and the later scholarly portrait of the Mediterranean cynic who wanders around the Galilean countryside preaching and healing are no doubt coincidental. Indeed, there is no evidence that Pasolini drew on the work of any historical Jesus scholars for this portrait. Pasolini explicitly disavows any interest in exactitude and deliberately did not consult scholars for his Gospel According to Saint Matthew.20 He admits to omitting political and social factors that would be central to a historical portrait. Such omissions are justified by his purpose, which was not to reconstruct Jesus as he really was but to "reconsecrate" or "remythicize" him.21 In Pasolini’s film, the conflict between Jesus and various groups is intended not as a historical reference, nor as a way of blaming twentieth century Jews for the death of Jesus. Rather, the conflict is intended to be an analogy to, or perhaps even an allegory of, contemporary conflicts. Pasolini’s stated goal was to compare the conflict between Jesus and the Jewish authorities in first century Palestine to religious conflict in twentieth century Italy.22

[14] Nevertheless, of the contemporary Jesus films, it is Pasolini’s Gospel According to Saint Matthew which most clearly and unequivocally places the blame for Jesus’ death on Jewish shoulders. In contrast to other Jesus movies, Pasolini presents Matthew 23, the woes against the Pharisaic hypocrites, in full, including Jesus’ seven-fold repetition of the judgment, "Woe to you scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites." Parenthetically, his personal comments on Jews and the State of Israel are no less disturbing than their portrait in his film. Pasolini remarks: "The kibbutzim although they are profoundly sad and recall the concentration camps and the Jews’ tendency towards masochism and self-exclusion are at the same time something extremely noble, one of the most democratic and socially advanced experiments I’ve ever seen. Moreover, I have always loved the Jews because they have been excluded, because they are objects of racial hatred, because they have been forced to be separate from society. But once they’ve founded their own state they are not different, they’re not a minority, they’re not excluded: they are the majority, they are the norm.... They, who had always been the champions of difference, of martyrdom, of the fight of the other against the normal had now become the majority and the normal and that was something I found ... a bit hard to swallow."23

3. Franco Zeffirelli Jesus of Nazareth, 1977

[15] Zeffirelli’s Jesus is the cinematic Christ who most closely resembles the eschatological or apocalyptic messiah of contemporary historical Jesus scholarship. By his own admission, Zeffirelli intended this film to be rigorously didactic, and he gathered scriptural experts to help him avoid errors and inaccuracies.24 Widely considered to be the best Jesus film in the harmonizing genre,25 Jesus of Nazareth expresses Zeffirelli’s conviction that Jesus was a Jew, probably a Pharisee, immersed in the most Jewish practices and customs imaginable.26 Zeffirelli’s Jesus holds to the central Jewish understanding of election, scripture and Messianism.27 He does not set himself apart from the Pharisees, though they occasionally object to the company that he keeps, such as Matthew the tax collector and Mary Magdalene. This understanding of Jesus’ Jewishness is apparent both directly, through the words and deeds attributed to Jesus, and indirectly, through details such as Joseph’s extravagant side curls, that are reminiscent of those worn by men of certain orthodox Jewish groups today.28 It is also indicated in the lavish depiction of the Galilean Jewish setting, and in particular, in the many synagogue scenes which depict Jewish rituals utilizing familiar prayers in English and Hebrew.

[16] These scenes resonate with familiar Jewish liturgy without precisely duplicating it. In the opening scene, for example, the rabbi reads from a scroll, replaces it in the ark, and recites the priestly blessing (Num 6:24-27). In the background to Jesus’ circumcision is the central prayer known as the "Sh’ma" ("Hear O Israel, the Lord thy God the Lord is One;" Deut 6:4) chanted in Hebrew. Zeffirelli’s Jesus comes to fulfill the eschatological hopes of a downtrodden people whose despair is expressed in biblical terms. For example, the scene highlighting the Jews’ grief in the aftermath of the Romans’ slaughter of the innocents (Matt 1:16-18) is followed by the return of Mary, Joseph, and the infant Jesus to Nazareth (Matt 1:19-20), as it is in Matthew’s Gospel. But the visual juxtaposition of the death scene in Bethlehem and the pastoral landscape of the Galilee, and the abrupt change in musical soundtrack, from dirge-like to cheerful, accentuate the implied message that Jesus is God’s response to the Jews’ lament.

[17] Zeffirelli’s film reflects his considerable efforts to avoid anti-Jewish representation. Zeffirelli testifies to having been deeply moved by "Nostra Aetate," the declaration of Vatican II absolving the Jews as a people of collective guilt in the death of Jesus.29 Zeffirelli’s Jesus of Nazareth aims not only to portray a Jewish Jesus but to evoke the tragedy of blaming the Jews for Jesus’ death.30 For example, Zeffirelli’s portrayal of the Sanhedrin makes it clear that Jesus has both accusers and supporters within the Sanhedrin, as Nicodemus, a Pharisee himself, informs Jesus.

[18] These efforts are not altogether successful, however. In the first place, Zeffirelli’s two positive Pharisees are positive precisely because they are secret followers of Jesus, or at least, Jesus’ supporters. Though Judaism is described sympathetically, the film implies that the "best" kind of Jews are those who believe Jesus to be the messiah. Second, for all the emphasis on Jewish background and identity, the film does not avoid a supersessionist ideology according to which Christianity is thought to surpass and even to replace Judaism as God’s chosen people. Supersessionism emerges particularly in the Last Supper scene in which the wine and unleavened bread of the Passover festival are reinterpreted as the tokens of Jesus’ redemptive mission. Zeffirelli himself remarked that "the Last Supper was set up according to traditional Jewish ritual and marked the moment when Jesus superseded the ancient rite and gave his disciples and all humanity the Eucharistic mystery."31

4. Monty Python’s Life of Brian, 1979

[19] A striking contrast to Zeffirelli’s pious rendition is Monty Python’s spoof of the Jesus movie genre. That The Life of Brian (of Nazareth) is not in fact about Jesus is stressed in the opening scenes. The movie begins with the adoration of the magi, who return hastily to retrieve their expensive gifts to the infant Brian when they learn that the manger they were seeking was a lit their, in which the three magi come to adore the infant Brian only to discover that the manger they were seeking was a bit further down the road. A few brief glimpses of Jesus reciting the sermon on the mount establish that Brian is not Jesus but a compatriot who, like Jesus, gathered a following, became embroiled in local politics and conflict with the Romans, and suffered crucifixion. The fact that Brian patently is not Jesus allows the Monty Python gang to parody the genre in their typically outrageous manner without being guilty of blasphemy. At the same time, the parallels between the contexts and lives of Brian and Jesus do allow the film to make at least some indirect statements about Jesus.

[20] Brian’s Jewishness is asserted frequently in the film. For example, Brian responds with anger and dismay to the news that he is a Roman because his father was one: "I’m not a Roman, Mum, and I never will be! I’m a Kike! A Yid! A Hebe! A Hook-nose! I’m Kosher, Mum. I’m a Red Sea Pedestrian and proud of it!"32 When hauled into Pilate’s presence for his part in a failed attempt to kidnap Pilate’s wife, Pilate greets him with the words, "Now, what is your name, Jew?"33 These examples do not establish Jesus’s own Jewish identity so much as they draw on common knowledge of Jesus’ Jewish identity to set up Brian as a comic messiah figure.

[21] The comic nature of the film, and its focus on a character who is patently not Jesus, absolves the film of any need for historical accuracy. Accordingly, the dialogue and many of the scenes are pure fabrication, intended for their humor primarily. Nevertheless, there is explicit evidence of historical research. For example, one member of the crowd listening to the beatitudes hears Jesus say, "Blessed are the cheesemakers." This mishearing recalls the Tyropoeon ("Cheesemakers") Valley, which runs through the center of the old city of Jerusalem and is mentioned by Josephus in The Jewish War 5.140. A second example concerns the putative father of Brian, who is described as a Roman soldier. This assertion is reminiscent of the rabbinic jibe that Jesus is the illegitimate son of Mary and a Roman soldier named Panthera.34 Finally, at the same time as the film satirizes religious and political fanaticism, "big noses," feminism, Latin, and numerous other topics, the film studiously avoids critique of the Christian story and Christian beliefs per se. Further, its jibes at the Jewish characters are not to be mistaken for anti-Semitism.

5. Martin Scorcese’s The Last Temptation of Christ (1988).

[22] Like The Life of Brian, The Last Temptation of Christ does not claim to be a story of the historical Jesus. Rather, it is an adaptation of Nikos Kazantzakis’ novel, The Last Temptation. Nevertheless, it is a Jesus story of sorts, and invites comparison with the other Jesus films.35 The Last Temptation of Christ situates Jesus in first century Palestine and features a cast of characters similar to that of the Gospels, including Jesus, his Jewish followers, Jewish authorities who are perturbed and challenged by Jesus, Roman officials who enact and carry out the sentence of crucifixion with some misgivings. Although there is no explicit reference to the Cynic peasant theory, Jesus himself does look rather peasant-like, in his garb as he and his followers wander around the countryside.36

[23] Jesus’ ethnic identity is not a major theme, however. The film focuses not on Jesus’ objective historical and spiritual identity but on the inner struggle between the demands of God and the temptations of the flesh. This central theme is made explicit in the quotation from Kazantzakis’ novel which precedes the title frame: "The dual substance of Christ -- the yearning so human, so superhuman, of man to attain God...has always been a deep inscrutable mystery to me. My principle [sic] anguish and source of all my joys and sorrows from my youth onward has been the incessant, merciless battle between the spirit and the flesh...and my soul is the arena where these two armies have clashed and met."

[24] For Scorcese, Jesus’ crucifixion does not mark the advent of the kingdom, but rather his personal resolution of this inner conflict. Of greatest concern in this movie is the universal human dilemma and not a particular historical conflict or its theological ramifications. But the movie does refer to one corollary of historical Jesus research, namely, the relationship among historical facts, Christian faith, and theological truth. The extended dream sequence experienced by Scorcese’s Jesus contains a confrontation between Paul, who preaches Christ crucified and raised from the dead, and Jesus, who has left his wild youth behind and now leads an uneventful domestic existence with Mary, Martha, and their children. In shock and dismay, Jesus demands that Paul stop preaching that Jesus was crucified and came to life again. To this Paul responds that the only hope for the despairing people around him is the resurrected Jesus. "I don’t care whether you are Jesus or not," states Paul. "The resurrected Jesus will save the world and that’s all that matters.... I created the truth out of what people needed and what they believed" (emphasis in original). The irony, of course, is that the extended dream takes place while Jesus is hanging on the cross. Who knows the truth, the dreamer or the apostle?

[25] Scorcese shows some sensitivity to the anti-Semitic potential of the Gospel story by omitting Jesus’ trial before the Jewish authorities.37 On the whole, however, such historical issues are beyond the purview of the film itself.

6. Denis Arcand, Jesus of Montreal, 1989

[26] Roughly contemporaneous with Scorcese’s film, but much different in style, content and focus is Denis Arcand’s Jesus of Montreal. Arcand’s movie, as the title implies, is set in modern-day Montreal. It features a small troupe of under-employed actors who are hired by the priest of St. Joseph’s oratory, the major religious site situated on top of Mount Royal, to revitalize the tired Passion Play that has been performed there for years. The result is a powerful new play that presents a Jesus so vital and compelling that at least one member of the audience believes him to be real.

[27] The Passion Play asserts emphatically that Jesus was a Jew. But this assertion is given little content in either the Passion Play itself or the frame narrative in which it is embedded. Within this frame narrative, the actors become involved in the drama of their own lives which mirrors the characters, content and structure of the Passion Play which they perform. In the modern day frame narrative, acts and words that echo the Gospels become symbolic of contemporary issues. Daniel Coulumbe, the actor who plays Jesus in the Passion Play, overturns the tables and shatters the high-tech equipment of those who have turned the theatre into a vulgar temple to the advertising industry, when Mireille -- the Passion’s Mary Magdalene -- is asked to bear her breasts in an audition for a beer commercial. Just as Jesus is offered the kingdoms of the world and their splendours in exchange for worshipping Satan (Matt 4:9), so is Daniel offered a tempting glimpse of power and wealth by a smooth talking lawyer in a tall tower overlooking downtown Montreal. At Daniel’s death -- caused when the cross to which he is strapped at the climax of the Passion Play topples -- his corneas and heart are transplanted into others, giving literal meaning to the notion that Jesus is the source of new sight and renewed life.

[28] These events and many others like them imply a symbolic interpretation of the seminal actions of Jesus in the Gospels. The confrontation with Satan is an indictment of contemporary values rather than a struggle with a powerful, superhuman adversary. The cleansing of the temple is not a prelude to or a symbol of the coming eschatological crisis but a protest against the exploitation of women and the exaltation of crass commercialism. The resurrection is not the promise of eternal life for those who believe but a healing of the physical body through the miracle of modern medicine and the generosity of Daniel/Jesus’ companions. Symbol, metaphor, and allegory reign supreme as in Wright and Borg’s portraits of the anti-nationalist Jesus.

[29] The movie claims that historical research was employed by Daniel and his followers in the writing of the Passion Play. Daniel Coulombe receives precious secrets from a theologian in a parking garage and does research in a library. The theologian’s plea that Daniel not tell anyone about the information he has been given evokes the theme of the messianic secret so prominent in Mark’s gospel. But to those viewers who actually know something about first century Palestine and historical Jesus research, the so-called historical facts as presented in the Passion Play are problematic. The Passion Play comments that ancient Jews identified Jesus as the illegitimate son of a Roman soldier Panthera. It also refers, however, to the discovery of a text containing the name Panthera, implying that this text substantiates the identification of Jesus as Yeshu ben Panthera. To viewers unversed in life of Jesus research, this latter detail might suggest that this identification is an accepted historical fact rather than the anti-Christian polemic of rabbinic literature of some 1500 years ago.38

[30] Jesus of Montreal draws an analogy between the scriptural Pharisees and the Catholic church in modern Quebec and uses Matthew 23 to give passionate expression to the corruption of the church. In contrast to Pasolini, however, Arcand avoids the anti-Semitic potential of this passage by omitting explicit reference to the Pharisees in "Jesus’" rendition of Matthew 23. In the Passion Play, Jesus angrily confronts the clerics who have curtailed the successful run of the Passion play by applying the invective of Matthew 23 to the priests and "reverend fathers"

[31] The film not only avoids anti-Jewish language but actively portrays Jews in a positive way. The final scenes of Jesus of Montreal contrast the crowded halls and inhumane attitude at Montreal’s St. Mark’s Hospital with the serenity of the Jewish General Hospital and the compassion of its staff people. Contributing to this point is the visual detail of the Star of David on the uniforms of the hospital workers which subtly evoke the Jewish badge worn by Jewish residents of the ghettos and concentration camps of the Nazi regime. This scene powerfully asserts that the Christians -- St. Mark’s -- have rejected the dying Jesus whereas the Jews have taken him in. Furthermore, it draws an analogy between Jesus and the Jews as innocent victims of persecution. To Montrealers, however, the scene is a source of some humor; it seems that the real Jewish General is not nearly so serene and uncrowded as its portrayal in this scene.

Conclusion

[32] Like historical Jesus scholars, filmmakers are convinced of Jesus’ Jewishness, but they construct this aspect of his identity in different ways. The precise place of his Jewishness in these depictions reflects their overarching purpose. Films in which the main purpose is to present the historical Jesus tend to rely more directly upon research and hence to reflect one or another trend in Jesus scholarship more directly. Films whose main purpose is psychological, allegorical or analogical tend not to focus on the ethnic or religious specificity of Jesus and hence his Jewishness is similarly eclipsed. Like Jesus scholars, filmmakers are also sensitive to cultural values, such as the general abhorrence of anti-Semitism in our post-Holocaust era. This sensitivity is no doubt also effected by concern for the "bottom-line," that is, the financial success of the films.

[33] Some film-makers are reluctant to lay the death of Jesus on the Jews as a whole, or even on particular factions among the Jewish authorities.39 Whereas many New Testament scholars emphasize that both the Jewish authorities and Roman government contributed to the events which culminated in Jesus’ crucifixion,40 some film-makers emphasize the Roman role so as to avoid any possible charges of anti-Semitism. According to film historian Gerald Forshey, "To choose any interpretation other than one that mitigated the scriptural contention of Jewish culpability was to risk being a bigot."41 The deflection of responsibility to the Romans is criticized strongly by some film reviewers, most notably by Dwight Macdonald, who refers to the Romans of the Jesus films as "fall goys."42 Although Macdonald strongly refutes accusations of antisemitism,43 he insists that the story of the Jesus should be told with reverence for the New Testament text but with irreverence for the sensibilities of contemporary religious groups including Jews.44

[34] Even those films which explicitly attempt non-historical or ahistorical interpretations of the gospel narrative(s) convey and reflect particular views of Jews and Judaism, however. The allegorical intentions of Pasolini, for example, do not diminish or undermine the identification of the Pharisees as hypocrites. And even a film like Jesus of Nazareth which bends over backwards to portray Jews positively is not able to convey a full appreciation of Judaism apart from faith in Jesus Christ. Perhaps it is too much to ask of Jesus films that they both treat the primary sources with respect and with awareness of contemporary scholarship and that they also show sensitivity to the anti-Semitic potential of the primary sources and the ways in which they have been interpreted in Christian exegesis and theology until relatively recently. These difficulties define the challenge that anyone who aspires to contribute to this genre must face.

Appendix: Recent Studies of Jesus Movies

[35] The Jesus movie genre has come under much study in recent years. The following is list and brief description of the major studies.

[36] Baugh, Lloyd. Imaging the Divine: Jesus and Christ-Figures in Film. Kansas City, MO: Sheed and Ward, 1997. The first part of the book is an analysis of the Jesus-film tradition, from beginnings of genre to present day. The second part is dedicated to "filmic Christ-figure" found in such films as Jesus of Montreal, Babette’s Feast, Dead Man Walking, and Shane.

[37] Kinnard, Roy, and Tim Davis. Divine Images: A History of Jesus on the Screen. New York City: Citadel Press, 1992. This survey of the Jesus movies from the early silents (1897-1919) through to the 1980s provides full details of the credits and cast of each movie as well as brief commentaries, excerpts from movie reviews, and photographs.

[38] Tatum, W. Barnes. Jesus at the Movies. Santa Rosa CA: Polebridge Press, 1997. This book is a detailed and very useful study of thirteen major Jesus films, including background notes regarding production, critical analysis, and summary of movie reviews.

[39] Telford, William R. "Jesus Christ Movie Star: The Depiction of Jesus in the Cinema." In Clive Marsh and Gaye Ortiz, eds., Explorations in Theology and Film, 115-139. . Malden, MA: Blackwell, 1997. This article focuses on the portrayal of Jesus in the Jesus films from Cecil B. DeMille’s The King of Kings (1927) through Jesus of Montreal (1989).

[40] Also relevant are Martin, Joel W. and Conrad E. Ostwalt, Jr., eds. Screening the Sacred: Religion, Myth, and Ideology in Popular American Film (San Francisco: Westview, 1995), which examines the religious and iconoclastic impact of film in American culture; Miles, Margaret R., Seeing and Believing: Religion and Values in the Movies (Boston: Beacon 1996), which looks at the transmission of religious values through popular film; and Scott, Bernard Brandon, Hollywood Dreams and Biblical Stories (Fortress: Minneapolis, 1994), which considers the ways in which the Christian gospel finds expression in film media.

*Journal of Religion and Film, Vol. 2, No. 2 October 1998

Archetypes on Screen: Odysseus, St. Paul, Christ and theAmerican Cinematic Hero and Anti-Hero

By John Fitch, III
Abstract

[1] Within the national cinematic gestalt, we are continually offered portrayals of the individual redemptive journey. Filmmakers repeatedly give us versions of the hero and anti-hero. These figures have their roots in age-old mythological and religious characters, and are easily identifiable in the traditional Western and more recent Road Movie. This paper compares the mythic Odysseus and the Christian gospel�s St. Paul, with a look also at the Christ-figure, in an examination of the cinematic use of the hero and anti-hero archetypes and their meanings.

Article
[2] Transformation in many contemporary American films occurs within the journey of the protagonist. This tendency has deep roots in traditional storytelling. In his Anatomy of Criticism, Northrup Frye observes, �of all fictions, the marvelous journey is the one formula that is never exhausted.�1

[3] There are several current writings that explore the connection between religion, myth and film. One purpose of this paper is to find as much common ground as possible between Christian and secular writers, while attempting to maintain a theologically independent viewpoint. The concern is not so much with the orthodoxy of a particular epistemological criticism, but rather with advancing a series of remarks based on a personal stance and a number of sources, including Joel W. Martin and Conrad E. Ostwalt�s Screening the Sacred: Religion, Myth and Ideology in Popular American Film � a comprehensive theological criticism of film as a cultural mass medium.2 John Izod�s Jungian analysis of contemporary filmic icons in Myth, Mind and the Screen provides insight into the cultural implications of identity.3 Lloyd Baugh�s investigation of the person of Jesus Christ as represented in cinema in Imaging the Divine: Jesus and Christ Figures in Film is a dependable source for the often neglected instances of the sacred in the ordinary.4 And the hero�s traditional journey is examined by Susan Mackey-Kallis in The Hero and the Perennial Journey Home.5

[4] What is a cinematic hero? What is an anti-hero? Are these merely ephemeral terms that we assign to leading characters in filmic roles? Or are they simply reflections of what and who we want to be, or how we imagine ourselves in the best or worst of all possible worlds?

[5] In cinema, the hero/heroine is usually depicted as one delivering salvation, enacting positive change, and bringing relief from suffering or oppression. He or she usually possesses the positive traits common to the traditional notion of a hero: emotional, physical, and moral strength as well as charity and fortitude. On the other hand, the anti-hero is defined as �a protagonist who lacks the attributes that make a heroic figure, as nobility of mind and spirit, a life or attitude marked by action or purpose.�6 The anti-hero is often a reluctant savior � the one that we follow and adore if only because of his own fallibility and fundamentally flawed human nature. He or she is someone who resembles ourselves, reminding us not only of the ambiguous morality of existence but also the possibility of redemptive change and transcendence.

[6] Historically, the delineation between the archetypal hero and the anti-hero has not always been clear. From Percival of the Grail legend to the Fisher King, King David to Hercules, and Odysseus to Saint Paul, the hero is usually depicted as unmistakably mortal at heart. Yet the image and mythology of Jesus Christ insists upon a combination of flesh and spirit, human mortality and divine perfection. Is Christ the hybrid of the hero and anti-hero? How do our cinematic heroes address the dual nature of His presence � that of personal doubt and physical suffering coupled with inspired, omnipotent ability and conviction? Perhaps by questioning the idea of the Christ-like hero in cinema, there can be a collective search for spiritual identity and a re-examination of the idea of righteousness within our own experience and culture.

[7] The stories of St. Paul and Odysseus parallel the hero-myth cycles and the spiritual dimensions of a physical journey abundant in Western literature � and more recently, in American cinema. The predominance and contemporary cultural relevance of this ancient story-cycle has been manifest in a very specific film genre, the �road movie� � essentially a contemporary continuation of the traditional �Western.� The characters that populate these films are continually complex, yet seemingly familiar. The perennial rise of the cinematic anti-hero and the Christ-figure punctuates the resemblance between these newer forms and the ancient epics.

[8] The traditional Christian story of St. Paul provides an example of the prototypical anti-hero. He was a sworn enemy of Christians. While on a journey he experienced a divine revelation and was temporarily blinded by the bright light that accompanied the voice of Christ. The experience transformed Paul and he became Christ�s foremost apostle and one of Christendom�s earliest and most influential theologians. His passivity (not actively seeking transformation) is typical of the cinematic anti-hero.

[9] Odysseus (the proto-typical journeyman) was a warrior who left his home place and family to wage war, but after the battle he was delayed and beset by many life-threatening ordeals and trials. Despite his difficulties, when he finally does return home Odysseus is a stronger force than when he departed. The journey shaped and defined his character.

[10] It is notable to observe that Odysseus�s fame does not come from his ethical or moral stature, but rather from his craftiness, stealth and dangerous cunning. In the end, when he returns home, he is not a triumphant warrior, but rather a clever murderer.

Even Odysseus�s name is indicative of his nature. It has been associated with the Greek word odyne, meaning pain � and pain not just for oneself, but pain extended to others. This reciprocal sado-masochism reverberates in the definition of the cinematic anti-hero, the hero who is considered heroic only through receiving and in the end distributing pain.

[11] The anti-hero, like Odysseus, is rarely happy in situations that would please other men; he is usually an outlaw type who seeks conflict and struggle over comfort and certainty. In fact, his sense of self-actualization or righteousness is only achieved through war and strife. In Homer�s story of Odysseus, as in so many contemporary films, the goal of the warrior/anti-hero is not long life, but glorious life followed by glorious death.

[12] Odysseus also resembles the cinematic anti-hero in that he often travels alone. Homer compares him to lions and eagles, animals that usually hunt apart from their families. Ultimately, the journey of Odysseus takes on mythic and spiritual dimensions by virtue of the destination. He, like the anti-hero, is not just striving for Ithaca but also for a metaphysical sense of place. Just as the anti-hero or cowboy travels west seeking to escape his past in a new home, Odysseus flees Troy for the home of his imagination. Several times in the poem, his quest is described in terms of a desire for re-birth � a rising from the dead that can only occur when he reaches his home.

[13] The flawed and undeniably ambiguous heroic/anti-heroic nature of Robert DeNiro�s character in Raging Bull (Martin Scorsese, 1980) is not so far removed from the character of Odysseus. Both men are famous warriors � DeNiro�s character is a well-known prizefighter � both are coming to terms with their physical decline, both of them have to confront the expiration of their former power and embrace a new kind of distinction, and both possess a desire to return to the glory and fame they once enjoyed. In the end, after much self-reflection and examination, these two fighters are forced into a new kind of action and determination in order to recover what they have lost. Susan Mackey-Kallis writes of this mythic process: �The Hero�s journey...is both a descent into the world of liminal and passive unconscious and an ascent into consciousness and the world of action.�7

[14] The distinctions between the varying perennial characters � the traditional tragic hero, the anti-hero, the Christ figure, and the reluctant savior � are rarely clearly defined or identified in modern cinema. The occasional exception is the filmic Jesus. The difference between the Christ figure and Jesus is that the latter is usually a literal interpretation or reinterpretation of the religious person of Jesus Christ as articulated in the Biblical New Testament, while the Christ-figure often possesses characteristics of Jesus under varying secular and religious narrative constructs. In some cinematic incarnations, however, Jesus himself is represented as an enigmatic, self-doubting and more human presence, as for example in The Last Temptation of Christ (Martin Scorsese, 1998) and Jesus of Montreal (Denys Arcand, 1990). In many cases, on-screen characters take on the traits of Jesus, St. Paul, King David, Odysseus, and Judas all at once, reflecting the uncertainty and universality of the Christic hero-image itself.

[15] From David to Odysseus to John Wayne, the ethical and moral substance of heroic figures is fraught with inconsistencies � just as the mythology of Paul could be seen as a troubling study of aborted vengeance and reluctant redemption. A film like Dead Man Walking (Tim Robbins, 1995) underscores the ambiguity of the nature and moral character of our cultural heroes. The main character in the film is a confessed murderer, full of hate and confusion � yet, in the end, he is portrayed as a beatific Christ-figure, one who is perhaps wrongly executed for his sins following absolution by a Catholic nun. An interesting element of this depiction is that the character resembles Paul more closely than Christ. Paul was a killer who was redeemed by the intervention of the Divine. On the other hand, Jesus Christ is purported to be blameless and without sin � and therefore his wrongful execution was intended to be a self-sacrificial event by which others would be freed from their sins.

[16] According to the Christic example, to which all of his followers are subsequently called, a man should do no harm to any other man, which means actively denying a fundamentally flawed human nature. The active direction of Christ�s example lies in direct contrast to the passive experience of Paul � who was maimed and brought into submission by the calling of Christ. It is Paul�s inactivity, or lack of direct action in achieving redemption, that we see in most American cinematic heroes/anti-heroes. They are men and women of violence, of revenge and reparation � essentially, purely human. Unwittingly, they are brought to a kind of �holy aggression� by circumstances beyond their control, as seen in the dilemmas faced by the main characters in The Passion of Joan of Arc (Carl Theodor Dreyer, 1928), Glory (Edward Zwick, 1989), Die Hard (John McTiernan, 1988), The Matrix (Andy and Larry Wachowski, 1999), and The Lord of the Rings (Peter Jackson, 2001). As with Odysseus, their redemption is marked by the blood of their enemies. Like the pre-Christian St. Paul, their pious rage is predicated by the fact that they are �fighting for the right side,� or following a �higher calling,� or protecting their own embattled loved ones.

[17] Perhaps these themes resonate within the American psyche, to qualify and redeem the many moral indiscretions that accompanied the creation of the nation. There may indeed be a nagging desire to quell the collective guilt of a society that displaced the original residents of the land, enslaved an entire race for its own financial gain, and introduced nuclear warfare to the world. The idea that the hero had to do �what he had to do to get the job done� is certainly not Christ-like in the traditional sense, yet postures as a righteous stance by virtue of its dedication to a high ideal, coupled with the embrace of self-sacrifice. Such idealism is continually evident in most American cinematic heroes. They avoid barbarism and violence until pushed into a corner by insurmountable odds and desperate circumstances. In almost every case, though, when the hero does finally resort to violence he is just as vicious and ruthless as his adversaries. Many times, the hero is absolved of past sins and indiscretions through a resolute dedication to violence and vengeance, much like Odysseus. In his book, Hollywood Dreams and Biblical Stories, Brandon Scott cites Levi-Strauss:

The purpose of myth is to provide a logical model capable of overcoming contradiction...We use myths to hide contradictions in the beliefs of our societies...That is, we approve of violence in our need to keep order. But the contradiction is overcome in film when the violence is evacuated from civilization after its occurrence: hence the need for the hero to leave after he saves the family in �Shane,� �The Searchers,� and innumerable other westerns.8

[18] This kind of faux moral redemption � of blood and retribution, not of spirit and conscience � and its recurrence in the American cinematic Road Movie or Western is troubling, for no real change or spiritual transformation occurs. Examples are plentiful. From First Blood (the first installment of the lucrative Rambo franchise, directed by Ted Kotcheff in 1982) to Clint Eastwood�s Unforgiven (1992) to Pulp Fiction (Quentin Tarantino, 1994), Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves (Kevin Reynolds, 1991), Lethal Weapon (Richard Donner, 1987) and Die Hard, the good guys seldom wear white hats and frequently murder their way to this kind of nebulous spiritual freedom which may be culturally sanctioned by a social system that still seems to reward a sadistic response to danger or any kind of threat. In American film, the spirit of Odysseus�s bloody return to Ithaca seems to prevail over Paul�s transformative journey to Damascus.

[19] The fundamental moral/social reasoning for this kind of retribution relies on a selfless defense of friends, family, and country. Usually the hero allows or endures many persecutions of self, but when presented with the mistreatment of others, carnage most certainly follows. The apparent selflessness of this modus operandi provides the hero with redemptive accolades and indulgences from his peers and society in general. Thereby, the anti-hero is wedded to the hero and the idea of absolute morality is lost; the Old Testament law of equal retribution continues to propagate itself upon the movie screens and home movie systems of America.

[20] The Road Movie/Western, in various incarnations, has tenuous links to the �Mission Movie.� In fact, the latter may be simply a sub-genre of the former. The mission movie is not a story of hopeful travel-borne enthusiasm; neither is it simply an escapist abandonment of difficult circumstances. The mission movie is usually a directional story with a singular, imperative goal: the attainment of something or someone that has been lost and must be rediscovered at all costs. This kind of filmic narrative resembles the legend of Odysseus as well as the ill-fated Christian crusades � and in a contemporary sense, the journey of the Army Rangers in Saving Private Ryan. In the mission movie, the hero�s journey is less about escape than of acquisition and recovery � indeed reconnaissance, that is, reclaiming something lost. Mythologist Joseph Campbell writes that the hero�s journey �is a labor not of attainment but of reattainment, not of discovery but rediscovery. The godly powers sought and dangerously won are revealed to have been within the heart of the hero all the time.�9

[21] The idea of homecoming is more important in these cases than of existential or physical flight. The mythological theme of this type of story resonates throughout the history of narrative form. One early example is that of Moses and the tribes of Israel, who wandered through the desert in search of a �promised land.� This exedotic journey finds significant yet uneasy parallels in the character of Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz and Odysseus � that of returning home, after traveling into distant magical lands. Like the medieval search for the Holy Grail and the crusades, the hero/protagonist cannot return home with honor until the prescribed assignment of recovery is completed. There are many modern correlations from the American screen, including The Searchers (John Ford, 1956), Thelma and Louise (Ridley Scott, 1991), The Fugitive (Andrew Davis, 1993), The Verdict (Sidney Lumet, 1982), Kalifornia (Dominic Sena, 1993), Saving Private Ryan (Steven Spielberg, 1998), The Mission (Roland Joffe, 1986) and 12 Monkeys (Terry Gillam, 1995). The deeper, more fundamental message of this kind of narrative focuses not on the obtainment of the intended goal, but rather upon the lessons learned upon the road � the process of re-attainment itself. The transformative power of the iconic wilderness in terms of the seeker�s spiritual/psychological state becomes the main focus and primary benefit of the story.

[22] Between the two journeymen, St. Paul and Odysseus, we find stark disparity: Paul is made into something greater, while Odysseus remains the ruthless warrior he has always been. Odysseus returns in disguise to violently punish his foes, while Paul has become a benevolent force, advocating peace among his former enemies. The result is easily observed: Odysseus has gained nothing from his journeys but pain and a desire to draw seemingly justifiable blood from his and his wife�s tormentors. Paul is a changed man, bent upon righting his past sins through forgiveness and a peaceful embrace of a new, benevolent calling.

[23] Paul�s type of rediscovery has few correlations in American cinema. Indeed, there are not many films about the �bad guy� becoming the �good guy� without much spilling of blood (and the violence justified as �righteous action�). The few examples that exist concern Christ � as a template of peaceful yet willful and dedicated change, as in Jesus of Montreal and The Greatest Story Ever Told.

[24] Films about Joan of Arc evidence a cinematic piousness in the portrayal of violence for a greater cause. Such mission movies usually end in a blood bath. Consider Robert DeNiro�s character in The Mission. Even though the hero is shamed and shackled into a true spiritual redemption, he participates with relish in a final battle for what we are asked to consider a just cause. The hero/warrior is transformed, but only briefly � only until his previously tested savage skills are needed to aid others in a desperately violent struggle.

[25] In many American films, the killer remains true to his natural predatory instincts, though they may be temporarily suspended. This pattern is so abundant in American cinema that an attempt to cite examples may become tiresome. Consider Apocalypse Now, which begins as a kind of road/mission movie where our hero has the opportunity to rediscover himself and his role in the Vietnam conflict through many disillusioning events, ennui, and a fuller understanding of his own fruitless mission. But, true to the form of most American cinematic journeymen, in the end he takes up a sword and completes his assigned homicidal mission without remorse or regret. The implicit message here is that the American hero/anti-hero, under duress, has no choice but to ruin and destroy the enemy according to the directives of his superiors � regardless of his own conscience or his own moral/spiritual doubts. If his own well-being or that of his comrades in is danger, he will do what he has to do to complete the destruction of his enemy.

[26] In contrast, the journeys of St. Paul and Christ have more to do with surrender to a spiritual calling � a calling to self-sacrifice and spiritual re-awakening. Paul originally takes to the road as a self-proclaimed zealot, pledging to quell the threat of the spiritual separatists, the Christians, and their threat to the orthodoxy of Judaism. At this point, Paul is a religious warrior, a crusader driven by a calling to purge the promised land of these new �infidels.� By his own later admission, his desires were not purely fueled by religious fervor; he also desired a bit of fame and notoriety, which would surely be bestowed upon a young passionate devotee by the Jewish religious elite of the time.

[27] The hero and anti-hero continue to show up in contemporary American film. Stories of cinematic protagonists appear fluid over time, for the details of the stories must reflect a changing cultural landscape � in this era to fit the multi-plex and its patrons. However, the perennial and abiding significance of the leading man or woman borrows heavily from a pattern set down long ago: a pattern born of myth, scripture and an enduring narrative form. St. Paul and Odysseus are enduring models of heroism and anti-heroism. They resemble American moviegoers, who participate in the continuing epic journey of life itself.

[28] The mythical models addressed here � the journey, transformation, redemption, revenge � find their universality in the human heart. The journey of self-discovery occurs and reoccurs in the individual�s secret spaces, and on the movie screens of America.

Our films manifest the human journey set within the tenuous fabric of our contemporary society. As stressed by scholars such as Joseph Campbell, the challenge for the individual is to learn from the mistakes and triumphs of the archetypal figures. Certainly, cinematic audiences of today identify with the presented incarnations of the archetypes. Amidst all the violence, one cannot help but wonder if there is a point ahead, on the cinematic horizon, when filmmakers will give equal screening to the hero who achieves a non-violent transformation.

*Journal of Religion and Film, Vol. 9, No. 1 April 2005

Apocalyptic Visions

by Amir Hussain

Abstract

Article

[1] On November 20, 1999, I was privileged to chair a session of the Religion, Film and Visual Culture group at the annual meeting of the American Academy of Religion (AAR)1. The session was entitled "Film and the Apocalypse", and consisted of the five papers that are collected in this volume. The word "apocalypse" comes from a Greek root meaning to reveal or uncover, which is precisely what I understand films to do, reveal something about the world. In these five papers, much is revealed about the apocalyptic visions of a number of contemporary Hollywood films. This essay will be a summary of and reflection on those five papers.

[2] Susan Schwartz writes about one film, What Dreams May Come, directed by Vincent Ward and released in 1998, starring Robin Williams. She begins her paper with the story of Orpheus, and sees the film as "yet another Orphic trope." However, she believes that South Asian traditions, most notably, Hinduism, have a strong influence in this film. While she does not make the comparison in her paper, I immediately thought of the new novel by Salman Rushdie, The Ground Beneath Her Feet, which also combines Greek and Indian myth, putting the "Indo" back squarely in "Indo-European." Rushdie begins the novel with an epigraph from Rilke's Sonnets to Orpheus, and names one of the main characters Ormus Cama. In the text, the character is a Parsi (a member of the Zoroastrian community living in India), and is named after Ahura Mazda2. However, one also hears a blending of the names "Orpheus", "Kama" and even "Camus" (who was himself a blend of North African and French) in this delightful name.

[3] On the surface, Schwartz argues, the film is of course "western". It gets its title from the western author, William Shakespeare, in the following line from Hamlet: "For in that sleep of death what dreams may come." And the stunning visuals in the film are all based on western paintings. However, beneath this western surface lie the eastern traditions of the world as illusory and the play of the divine. Schwartz sums this up beautifully (and playfully) in my favourite sentence from her article: "What Dreams May Come is therefore a work of the imagination (a film) about a work of imagination (life and death), which constructs a western illusion about an eastern illusion, all the while addressing western apocalyptic paranoia at the end of the millennium, which is, of course, irrelevant in the east." It is this point that needs to be emphasized, that the end of the millennium is irrelevant to those of us that follow different calendars.

[4] There are other films discussed in this collection of papers that incorporate western and eastern motifs in their portrayals of the apocalyptic. One of these films is The Matrix, which will be discussed later. The other is the Star Wars series.

[5] In his paper, John Lyden analyses the apocalypticism in perhaps the most popular of film series, the Star Wars tetralogy directed by George Lucas. At this point I must remark that those who did not have the privilege of hearing Lyden read his paper at the AAR missed an opportunity to hear a gifted mimic. He recited many of the lines in the voices of the characters, adding something to his presentation that is unfortunately lost when one only has a written text.

[6] Lyden begins with the observation that Lucas was influenced by the work of Joseph Campbell, the popular mythologist. He gives an excellent, succinct summary of some of the problems that the scholar of religion has with the work of Campbell. For this summary alone, Lyden is to be commended.

[7] Campbell interpreted the Star Wars films in his own way, but Lucas had a different interpretation of the films. In an interview, Lucas stated that he "...wanted to make it so that young people would begin to ask questions about the mystery." Lyden discusses the term "apocalypse", and connects the films to Jewish and Christian ideas of apocalypse, particularly their emphasis on a saviour/messiah figure. He also introduces Zoroastrian notions of a battle between good and evil.

[8] The ideas that Schwartz raises about eastern and western influences coming together are immediately relevant to the Star Wars films. They contain not just the western motifs that Lyden discusses, but eastern themes as well. One thinks immediately of comparisons to Taoism, and the Force in the films as being analogous to the Tao. It would be very easy to put Yoda in the role of a Taoist master, with lines such as "Do or not do. There is no try." In the first film of the series, The Phantom Menace (released in 1999), one of the main characters is a Jedi knight named Qui-Gon Jinn (played by Liam Neeson). While this name immediately brings to my mind the terms "ch'i" (energy) and "ch'i-kung" (energy work)3, it also makes me think of Central Asia, and the traditions of Taoism, as well as Buddhism and Islam, (not to mention Zoroastrianism, Judaism, Christianity and various "folk" religions) that are found there. Lyden does bring in ideas from Hinduism, connecting Luke Skywalker to Arjuna in the Bhagavad Gita4. However, while Arjuna fights his enemies, Luke does not fight Vader.

[9] Frances Flannery-Dailey discusses the apocalypticism in the 1995 film Twelve Monkeys, directed by Terry Gilliam. She focuses on the messianic role played by the star of the film, Bruce Willis. In the film, Willis' character, the time traveler James Cole, says "I know some things you don't know, and it's going to be very difficult for you to understand." In this way, the character reveals to the people of 1990 what will happen to them in the future, when a virus will kill five billion people. In reading this quote, I was reminded of another film, Ridley Scott's Blade Runner (originally released in 1982, and re-released as a "director's cut" in 1992). In that film, the android Roy Batty (played by Rutger Hauer) says as his dying words "I've seen things you people wouldn't believe...All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain. Time to die." Michel Desjardins has discussed the gnostic themes in Blade Runner, as well as in the writings of Philip K. Dick, on whose 1968 novel, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? the film was based5.

[10] Flannery-Dailey situates Twelve Monkeys in ancient Jewish and Christian apocalyptic literature. However, the film is also connected to the literature of modern science fiction. As Flannery-Dailey mentions, the notion in the film is that apocalyptic seers are time-travelers. In a lengthy footnote, she discusses another film starring Bruce Willis, Armageddon.

[11] Armageddon (1998, directed by Michael Bay), along with Contact (1997, directed by Robert Zemeckis), Deep Impact (1998, directed by Mimi Leder), and The Matrix (1998, directed by Larry and Andy Wachowski) are discussed by Conrad Ostwalt. He begins with the assertion that these "...cinematic end of the world dramas focus on the eschatological part of apocalyptic texts", and not on the "...revelation of God's sovereignty..." Ostwalt explicitly connects these films to contemporary science fiction as well as ancient apocalyptic texts. In these films, humans are able to change their future, and are not simply spectators to the divine unfolding. Again, the gnostic filter that Desjardins provides for Blade Runner helps us to understand these films as well.

[12] In his discussion of The Matrix, Ostwalt also introduces eastern as well as western themes. Neo, the main character in the film (played by Keanu Reeves), is certainly a western messiah. However, Ostwalt reminds us that Neo literally "wakes up" to the true nature of reality. In this way, he emulates the act of the historical Buddha. The Greek element is also present, with another main character named Morpheus, after the god of dreams (although one suspects that most teenagers watching the film know Morpheus not through Greek myth, but through the stories in Neil Gaiman's masterpiece of comics, The Sandman). Of course, there is a connection here with What Dreams May Come. In both of these films, the relationships between "the real" and "the dream" are explored6, and both incorporate eastern as well as western elements into the exploration of what it is that is truly real7.

[13] In his discussion of Contact, Ostwalt brings up the relationship between science and religion. He writes that "In our secular eschatological dramas, science has wrested control of cosmic cataclysm away from religion..." This really is an important point, particularly when one remembers that Contact was based on a novel by Carl Sagan, whose last book, The Demon Haunted World, reflected Sagan's hopes for the role of science at the end of the millennium8.

[14] Joel W. Martin takes a different approach in his paper. He examines a number of apocalyptic films for what they tell us about the role of women. Unfortunately, the picture that emerges is not often a positive one. After an excellent analysis of the opening sequence of Contact, Martin examines the American perceptions of reality after the Cold War. He mentions the shift that took place, from Cold War films in which we had to be shown how to live by aliens, to post Cold War films, where aliens become the new enemy.

[15] Martin begins his analysis of the social reality in films with a discussion of The Lion King (released by Disney in 1994), a film that involves not aliens but animals. He examines the gender roles in the film, and how the young hero, Simba, is first overpowered by the lioness Nala, his playmate from happier days. However, once Simba can establish his masculinity by ending up literally on top of her, only then can he go on to defeat his nemesis, Scar. Martin presents a compelling case for Scar being a stereotypical homosexual, thus adding to his "villainy". With the female subdued and the homosexual defeated, the heterosexual male is once again on top.

[16] Martin also has a clever interpretation of the "circle of life". The Pridelands, where Simba lives, is a gated community. Within the borders, all is well, but outside, the ethnic barbarian hordes prevail. This is a wonderful observation, particularly for those of us who live in a world where gated communities are becoming more and more popular.

[17] Martin notes the anti-feminism in films such as Armageddon, Deep Impact, The Fifth Element (1997, directed by Luc Besson), and Independence Day (1996, directed by Roland Emmerich). In all of these films, there are disturbing plots about women. In the first two films, the message is that "Women who are fertile and heterosexually bonded survive." In The Fifth Element, one would hope for something different. After all, in this film, the perfect being (played by Milla Jovovich) is female. However, she needs the white heterosexual male (played yet again by Bruce Willis) to rouse her (from her crying, no less) to action and save the earth. And in Independence Day, the First Lady might have avoided her death by following her husband's wishes.

[18] The anti-feminism that Martin describes is not of course limited to the movies. He mentions an episode of the animated Fox television show Futurama9 where a single professional female (a self-parody10 in turn of another Fox show, Ally McBeal) is yet again linked to the possible destruction of the earth. Martin concludes his paper with a discussion of Contact, where at the end of the film, the heroine (played by Jodie Foster) ends up on the beach talking to her "father". As Martin wryly remarks, "Evidently, at the end of time and space, a girl just wants her Dad."

[19] The male, heterosexual nature of apocalyptic traditions, both textual and celluloid, is insightfully addressed by Tina Pippin, especially in regards to the biblical book of Revelation. She writes: "I am more interested in what happens to the body of the female in [Revelation] the Bride is made into polis, city, the Whore gang raped and burned and eaten, the Woman Clothed with the Sun is a reproductive vessel who is exiled subsequent to giving birth, and Jezebel is destroyed. What is positive about this vision? ...This message is still not liberating for our late twentieth-century feminist and pro-gay liberation movements11."

[20] In fact, the book of Revelation, regardless of one's understanding of it, remains the "mother of the book" in western thinking about apocalypticism. Movies based on this book have often pointed to the themes noted by Schwartz, Lyden, Flannery-Dailey, Ostwalt, and Martin particularly the "eastern" flavour (e.g., Ingmar Bergman=s 1956 classic The Seventh Seal, which one now needs to see in the context of the writings of Edward Said, particularly Orientalism) and the shifts in time (e.g., The Last Wave, directed by Peter Weir and released in 1977, which nicely weaves in Australian aboriginal beliefs). And of note are The Seventh Sign (1988, directed by Carl Schultz) in which the main character, played by Demi Moore, stops the divine end-time clock at the eleventh hour and saves the world and The Rapture (1991, directed by Michael Tolkin), in which the Mimi Rogers character at the end defies a perverse God. Both films make significant steps in adding strong female leads. "Perhaps only the Hare Krishnas will be saved in the end," quips a priest sarcastically in The Seventh Sign. Perhaps it is not too late to convert!

[21] It was a great pleasure for me to have first heard these presentations at the AAR. Those reading them here for the first time will find an excellent collection of papers, each of which stands on its own merit. Together, they provide some interesting revelations about how Hollywood views the end of the world in the latter days of the twentieth century.

Footnotes

[1] This group was organized by Bill Blizek and Rubina Ramji, who are to be commended for their choice of papers.

[2]Salman Rushdie, The Ground Beneath Her Feet, New York: Henry Holt, 1999, p. 26.

[3] The comparison is even more obvious if one uses the Pinyin system of transliteration as opposed to the older Wade-Giles system. The relevant terms become, respectively, "q" and "qigong."

[4] Lyden writes of "...the ethic of the Bhagavad Gita in which the Hindu notion of ahimsa is developed." This is the only line in his paper with which I would disagree, as my reading of the Gita doesn't support a notion of ahimsa in the way that the term was understood at the time of the Epics.

[5] Michel Desjardins, "Retrofitting Gnosticism: Philip K. Dick and Christian Origins," in Violence, Utopia and the Kingdom of God, ed. Tina Pippin and George Aichele, London: Routledge, 1998, pp. 122-33.

[6] One of the characters in What Dreams May Come says "thought is real...physical is the illusion...ironic, huh?"

[7] I am indebted to Tony S. L. Michael for his help and insights on this point.

[8] These hopes are made explicit in the subtitle of the book. Carl Sagan, The Demon Haunted World: Science as a Candle in the Dark, New York: Random House, 1995.

[9] I am compelled to comment on the timeliness of this in Martin's presentation. This episode aired on November 7, 1999, and he was able to incorporate it into his presentation on November 20. Cutting edge indeed!

[10] Or perhaps it is simply an example of product placement." One is never quite sure

[11] Tina Pippin, Apocalyptic Bodies: The Biblical End of the World in Text and Image, London: Routledge, 1999, p. 119.

*Journal of Religion and Film, Vol. 4, No. 1 April 2000