Robots

Robots is well-oiled machine

—Overview
—Photos
—About this Film pdf
—Spiritual Connections

It’s no secret that Disney is in a fragile state after its recent split with Miramax’s infamous Weinstein brothers and an impending break-up with Pixar, its partner in computer-generated success.

Because of this fact, other sources of computer-generated animation are turning up the heat for the mouse-eared mogul, hoping to claim the title of Animation King.

For the time being, the Disney/Pixar collaboration of The Incredibles remains on top with its near-perfect blend of comedy, social commentary, larger-than-life action and a really fun soundtrack. When the two companies split, however, Fox could usurp the throne—especially if it continues in the tradition of its most recent film, Robots.

Robots begins much like the recent flop, Shark Tale, with a sweeping view of a typical day in a completely original, though oddly familiar, world. The world in Shark Tale felt crowded and forced. The world of Robots is easier to believe, perhaps because of better pacing; perhaps because of a toned-down color scheme that seems to fit the sleek, Art Deco environment. We learn the conventions of this new world through non-stop one-liners and sight gags that allude to American pop culture (a “Got Oil?” poster, a robotic parody of Singin’ in the Rain, etc.).

The story follows the life of Rodney Copperbottom (Ewan McGregor) from his “delivery” through his high-school graduation in a series of vignettes that puts typical childhood experiences within the context of the robot world. Though each scene could’ve easily reeked of cheese or sewage, Rodney’s innocence combined with great comedic timing makes each gag fun to digest.

Despite Rodney’s lower-class status, his father encourages him to dream—to aspire for greatness as an inventor. Because of this aspiration, he leaves the humble surroundings of Rivet City and boards a train for Robot City, home of inventing mogul Big Weld (Mel Brooks).
Rodney soon discovers that the big city isn’t quite what he was expecting. Big Weld seems to have disappeared, though no one else seems to care in the ultra-mechanized, fast-paced metropolis. After befriending manic hobo Fender (Robin Williams), Rodney tries to get to the bottom of Big Weld’s disappearance, using his mechanical skills along the way to help out those in need.

Perhaps a large part of my admiration for Robots comes from its similarity to the 2004 gem, Big Fish. Both films star Ewan McGregor as a small guy set out to do great things in an unfamiliar world and, after accomplishing those things, he returns to make his home a better place. That doesn’t make Robots plagiaristic, though.

This is a common plot structure found in a large amount of myths, legends and historical stories written throughout the years. Joseph Campbell calls it “the hero’s journey” in his book, The Hero With a Thousand Faces. George Lucas intentionally followed this journey verbatim in his original Star Wars trilogy. It’s a story that appeals to us over and over again, whether we experience it in The Wizard of Oz, The Lord of the Rings or The Lion King.

It’s a plot structure that, for some reason, has fascinated readers or viewers for thousands of years. It would come as no surprise, then, that the historical life of Christ follows that same pattern (God’s son leaves his heavenly home, grows up to spread the news of spiritual redemption and, after sacrificing himself for others, returns to Heaven to provide hope for humanity.). Though I’m not smart enough to determine whether that’s just coincidence or if it’s an archetypal pattern put into our subconscious to reveal the ultimate example of heroics (Christ) and to thus aid in the salvation experience, I do know it allows for more dialogue between Christians and non-Christians.

Though Rodney’s messianic traits are probably not intentional, they seem to resurface on several occasions. After Big Weld’s second-in-command, Phineas T. Ratchet (Greg Kinnear), bans the creation of replacement robot parts, the inhabitants of Robot City learn that the handy Rodney is the only one who can meet their needs. Rodney selflessly repairs the masses, quoting his father’s “see a need, fix a need” motto. Though speaking out against Ratchet’s tyranny could spell out Rodney’s death, he does so in a “temple-clearing” scene because he sees injustices done in Big Weld’s ballroom—a place that once represented hope for all robots through face-to-face encounters with Big Weld. Rodney also has a small group of loyal “disciples.” Ratchet plays a role similar to that of the anti-Christ, who does the bidding of a greater form of evil to usurp the authority of a more powerful, benevolent entity. The film is loaded with familiar elements that subtly allude to Christian themes.

Robots is one of those rare movies with great comedic timing reminiscent of Looney Tunes or The Muppet Show. Though much of the film involves various chases, each chase is intricately plotted out and unique, providing the perfect blend of suspense, slapstick comedy and background eye-candy.

Visually, the film is stunning as the filmmakers have perfected the texture and reflective quality of metal. The curse-fee, PG- rated film can be enjoyed by young and old alike (though some parents may want to shield their youngsters from the not-so-subtle, prevalent potty humor). Though Disney, like Ratchet’s empire, may be king today, Robots could very well be the scrappy little hero that evens out the animation playing field.

—Overview
—Photos
—About this Film pdf
—Spiritual Connections

Ray

Ray still shines on DVD

—Overview
—Review by David Bruce
—Review by Chris Utley
—Review by Kevin Miller
—Trailers, Photos
—About this Film pdf file
—Spiritual Connections

One thing I’ve never been able to understand is the idea of segregation–an idea practiced in my neck of the woods during much of the 20th century.

The thought of passing someone on the street and not making eye contact because of the surplus or deficit of skin pigment is something I just can’t grasp.

Though I’m a rather young and naive white boy, I was able to better understand the plight of blacks during the slavery era with the aid of emotionally-charged productions such as the Roots miniseries and the film Glory. However, no such film existed—to my knowledge—that brought such realism to the era of segregation. That was before I watched Ray, a biopic on the life of musician Ray Charles.

Ray portrays the era of segregation in much the same way as an older black friend of mine–as an era of mostly-peaceful separation. Though the music industry seemed more open to the idea of integration (which in many cases was more exploitation than acceptance), the disturbing reality seemed to be that blacks stayed in their cultural bubble while whites stayed in theirs.

The film does such an incredible job portraying this that, when the audience is introduced to Charles’ white fan base (dancing Frankie and Annette-style on the beach), it’s jarring. These lily-skinned dancers just don’t fit in the environment to which we’ve grown accustomed. The great thing about Ray, though, is that it’s not preachy. Instead, it flows naturally, creating an unflinching version of Charles’ past without taking the extremes of deifying or demonizing him.The film could have easily dwelt on Charles’ obstacles, which include not only his skin color but also blindness, childhood trauma, various addictions and tests of his faith. Instead, Charles continues to persevere, repeatedly failing in regard to his addictions to drugs and sex, but ultimately overcoming it all in the end.

Because of these struggles, Ray is not a movie for kids. Strong language and scenes of drug use are pervasive throughout the film. A brief flash of nudity is shown in one scene. The PG-13-rated film is a gritty representation of Charles’ life, though the characters never seem to curse just for the sake of cursing. Though the drug use and marital infidelity are constant, these elements are included to make the addictions believable, ultimately showing that even these obstacles can be overcome.

Most of the acting in Ray is top-notch, though Kerry Washington, who plays Charles’ wife, seems to struggle with an on-again, off-again Scarlett O’Hara pseudo-southern dialect. When that dialect is dropped, however, her character works well.

Jamie Foxx’s portrayal of Charles is hauntingly accurate as he masters every mannerism and twitch without becoming a caricature of the man. Several times, I found myself squinting to determine whether it was the real Ray Charles. Foxx sings several of Charles’ songs himself, though it’s impossible to discern between the two until the closing credits roll. When these familiar songs are sung in the context of Charles’ struggles at the time of their creation, a spiritual connection with the audience is made, one that is rare in mainstream film. “Hit the Road, Jack” always seemed like a fun song, and “Night and Day” conjures visions of Rudy Huxtable lip-synching down Bill Cosby’s staircase. Rather than associating those songs with the always-smiling, upbeat Ray Charles, though, we can better understand the coarse, rocky soil in which the songs’ roots were planted.

Also pervasive in the film are the effects of Charles’ Christian background. His roots in Gospel music are what eventually determine his musical style. Though spiritually crippled by addictions, he continues to court with God. His mother’s past lessons of Christian perseverance lead him through the harder times in his adult life.

One such lesson is a parallel of a Christian’s relationship with God. As Charles loses his eyesight at the age of nine, his mother teaches him how to adapt. After completely losing his sight, Charles trips on a chair and calls out to his mother. Of course, a mother’s immediate response would be to help her hurting child. Instead, she fights that urge and lets him learn on his own. When tiring from crying out, Charles begins to listen to his surroundings, slowly learning to compensate for his blindness. He guides himself past the stove and other obstacles in the house, finally hearing his mother’s breathing and acknowledging her. At this point, she blankets him in her arms as they weep together.

As Christians, we often try things our way the first time. It’s not until we fall that we decide to call on God. Rather than playing the part of the overbearing parent, God often allows us to endure things “on our own,” though his compassionate gaze never leaves us. It’s only when we focus on sensing God’s presence that we are ready to feel the embrace of his blessings. Ray’s ability to impact a desire to change on the audience—teamed with the breathtaking camera work—is a sign of its cinematic excellence. It captures not only the audience’s attention but also our minds, our souls and our hearts, guiding us toward betterment through the authentic example of an obviously flawed, though sincere, legend.

—Overview
—Review by David Bruce
—Review by Chris Utley
—Review by Kevin Miller
—Trailers, Photos
—About this Film pdf file
—Spiritual Connections

Finding Neverland

The secret life of J.M. Barrie

—Overview
—Review by Darrel Manson
—Review by Melinda Ledman
—Review by Michael Ray
—Review by Matt Hill
—Trailers, Photos
—About this Film
—Spiritual Connections

I've often wondered why many of the best films quality-wise are also some of the worst content-wise. The films of Quentin Tarantino and Christopher Nolan blend brilliant cinematography and story structure with gratuitous language and violence.
Conversely, the films that boast wholesomeness and "good, clean, family fun" tend to be cliched, poorly-acted and melodramatic. Is it so wrong to ask for maturity without "mature themes" or intellectual stimulation without sexual stimulation? Imagine A Beautiful Mind without the intense sense of despair, or Shakespeare in Love without the sexually-charged relationship and you've got the overall feel of Finding Neverland.

The film follows real-life author J.M. Barrie in his struggle to create a play that both expresses his outlook on life and appeals to his patrons. His most recent play has bombed, making his career as a writer hardly a sure thing. However, when he befriends four boys and their mother, Sylvia Llewelyn Davies, he is able to embrace the innocence and wonder of childhood, creating as a result his masterpiece, Peter Pan.

Not surprisingly, Johnny Depp pulls off his rendition of the Scottish-brogued Barrie without a hitch. He creates a character with grown-up wisdom and child-like bewilderment, without becoming too manic or juvenile. His everyday world is mundane, marked by a cynical boss and a status-seeking wife. Whenever around the Llewelyn Davies children, though, he enters a world with which he is more comfortable–a world where dancing bears and pirate ships are commonplace–a world where he, like Peter Pan, never has to grow up.

The child actors are naturals, delivering lines with introspective solemnity. Freddie Highmore, playing Peter Llewelyn Davies, is especially talented as the brooding child afraid of his own imagination who ultimately inspires the concept of Peter Pan.

One thing that makes Finding Neverland an enjoyable film is the use of everyday inspirations for the characters in Barrie's play. I'm sure it was tempting for the screenwriter to have Barrie jot down notes whenever inspired by real events, making sure all the moviegoers knew specifically what elements were drawn from reality. Screenwriter David Magee instead sprinkles allusions to the play throughout the film, allowing the viewers to either discover these little gems for themselves or to miss them completely, either way remaining able to enjoy the overall story.

Content-wise, the PG-rated film is wholesome enough for any child, yet it includes such profound treatment of the themes of imagination, mortality and endurance that most kids wouldn't grasp half of its beauty. Neverland is revealed as a place Barrie invented as a child to help him cope with his brother's death. The clock-swallowing crocodile becomes a metaphor for time itself. Peter, inspired by Barrie, uses creative writing as a tool for emotional healing.
Finding Neverland's ability to weave symbolism and psychology into an intriguing story brings to the audience a sense of genuineness and substantial hope. This multi-leveled means of storytelling makes Barrie's escapes from reality vivid, while his returns to the crumbling world around him remain heartbreaking. Rather than dwelling on that heartbreak, however, the film continually stresses the power of hope and endurance, regardless of circumstances.
Though Finding Neverland focuses on the means of hope (creative expression) rather than the source of that hope (an ever-faithful God), its overall spirituality allows for a Christian interpretation of emotional healing. Key to the characters' healing process is an untimely death that brings reconciliation and unity to those left behind (If you don't realize the significance of that, check out the prophets of the Old Testament or the gospels of the New Testament).

Finding Neverland may not appeal to children as it would to adults. For a film that pleases both crowds, look no further than The Incredibles, which lives up to its name by superbly blending exceptional storytelling, visuals, soundtrack and pop-culture references. For an honest look at emotional pain and the healing of that pain, though, Finding Neverland is the way to go. While the film may alienate the casual viewer, it provides a wonderful example of wholesome excellence–a concept that once seemed as distant and as inaccessible as Neverland itself.

—Overview
—Review by Darrel Manson
—Review by Melinda Ledman
—Review by Michael Ray
—Review by Matt Hill
—Trailers, Photos
—About this Film
—Spiritual Connections

The Village

By Mark Stokes
8-15-04

We are The Village people

Though M. Night Shyamalan claims not to embrace any particular religion, he increasingly incorporates spirituality into his films.
In The Sixth Sense, he broaches the existence of a supernatural realm; in Unbreakable, it’s the diametrical relationship between good and evil; Signs is about belief in a greater power. In nearly every major religion, these three truths work as ladder rungs that lead to a higher understanding of our relationships with the divine. The Village, following this natural progression of spiritual depth, becomes a warning for the faithful in any of these religious groups.
The film introduces us to a simple, peaceful community of homesteaders who work hard without grumbling, corporately mourn the death of a child and share all their meals on the front lawn, Pilgrim-style. We soon realize that all is not right as two villagers see a pretty red flower, panic and instantly bury it. Apparently, an unknown menace living in the surrounding woods hates that color. This menace also keeps the villagers from entering those woods and making contact with the outside world.
Though The Village seems deeper than Shyamalan’s previous films, his characteristic cinematic edge is dwindling. His systematic shift from suspenseful ghost story to allegorical period piece seems to confine the writer/director, forcing him to focus on only those elements essential to complete the allegory. The Hitchcockian suspense and Shyamalanian twists are still there, but they’re either less dramatic than his previous films or they’ve become too familiar for the audience.
One thing I admire about The Village is Shyamalan’s use of understatement. Through visual subtleties and subdued, proper dialogue reminiscent of Oscar Wilde’s plays, the film creates an intricate story that unobtrusively flows like a delicate stream. In one scene, for instance, Edward (William Hurt) talks to his daughter about romance. In the background, children inconspicuously walk by as if they’re just extras on the set. In the next scene, though, they become our point of focus as they inch closer to the woods. Interestingly enough, this lauded subtlety also becomes a weakness, causing the average viewer to leave the theater thinking, “That’s it?” instead of the intended, “What anguish that man must’ve gone through to put such painstaking detail throughout the film!”
What The Village may lack in pulse-pounding action, it makes up for in content. Rated PG-13, the film has no profanity, no sexuality and minimal violence, yet it still portrays a wide spectrum of believable emotions. Lucius (Joaquin Phoenix) and Ivy (Bryce Dallas Howard, daughter of director Ron Howard) are the center of a touching love story that pushes them beyond fear. Howard’s mesmerizing portrayal of an intuitive blind girl is matched only by Adrien Brody’s portrayal of Noah, her mentally-handicapped admirer.
The main message, though, centers on the oppressiveness of fear and a group’s exploitation of that fear. The villagers’ fear of the unknown makes them perfectly content in their safe little bubble, refusing to interact with the rest of humanity. They have unity and peace, and they see no need to share it with the undeserving outside world.
In the same way, Christians are called to “be in the world but not of it”
(Romans 12), though our motto has become “be a cheap imitation of the world.”
Christian music, film and T-shirts can be good things (assuming that these are done creatively), but too much emphasis on Jabez jogging shoes and Kingdom Kool-Aid can easily lead us further into exclusivity and capitalist Christianity. It seems the more comfortable we become with our church environment (or monster-encircled village), the more difficult it is to leave that environment and be productive in the outside world.
Don’t get me wrong–Christians are definitely called to a higher standard in pursuit of intimacy with God. That intimacy is our very reason for existence (1Corinthians 1:9). Closeness with Christ, however, shouldn’t mean the alienation of the rest of humanity. That is the antithesis of the Great Commission.
Though it’s important to surround ourselves with Christians and “not forsake the gathering of the believers,” (Hebrews 10:25), it’s equally important to “go ye therefore” (Matthew 28:19). To some, these last words of Christ mean we must occasionally descend from our mountaintops, preach hellfire-and-brimstone and expect the vile sinners to beg us to save their souls.
Jesus built genuine relationships. He wasn’t present just during election years or when He felt the world needed to hear His stance on the latest national controversy. It’s been said that “they don’t care what we know until they know that we care.” Jesus lived by this creed.
While He dined with tax collectors, prostitutes and the impoverished, we are called to reach out in love to the homeless, the homosexuals and the disenfranchised. Were Jesus a member of the village, no legion of lurking monsters could keep Him from bolting for those woods. His passion for the sick (as opposed to the healthy [Mark 2:17]), would be too intense to hold him back.
Like the residents of the village, we have not been given a spirit of timidity (2 Timothy 1:7). We’ve just seemed to somehow acquire it. We remain in the cozy township of shallow Christianity, spouting our own language as we devolve into cookie cut-outs of the latest mega-church trend.
Perhaps if we stepped into the unknown forest beyond the walls of the church, what we claim to so heartily believe would actually be challenged. I say it's about time.

Spider-man 2

—Overview
—Review by Melinda Ledman
—Review by Benn Becker
—Review by Mike Furches
—Best Posters
—Trailers, Photos
—About this Film
—Spiritual Connections
—Forum

Then along came a spider ... again

In 1940, someone at Republic Pictures realized the similarities between comic books and cinema, and Captain Marvel was rebirthed on the silver screen.

Though Captain America, Batman and Superman soon followed suit with their own serials, the low budgets and lack of technology made convincing adaptations impossible. Though the Batman television series of the ’60s was highly entertaining, its campiness turned it into something altogether different from the original text. Our current decade brings another comic-to-screen revival, though a majority of the films have either strayed too far from the original sources or have become too shallow to enjoy. Thankfully, Spider-Man 2 swung in the midst of the commercial hoopla and saved the day for superhero films everywhere.

The movie picks up two years from where Spider-Man left off. In it, Peter Parker (Tobey Maguire) becomes increasingly burnt-out by his thankless heroic lifestyle and its devastating impact on the rest of his life. His old love interest, Mary Jane Watson (Kirsten Dunst) has recently become engaged, his schooling and jobs are being affected by his late hours and his superpowers sporadically quit working. Things are falling in all around him, so he finally decides to forsake his call and chunk his heroic persona. When the emotionally unstable Dr. Otto Octavius (Alfred Molina) threatens New York City and those closest to Parker, he is forced to choose between personal convenience and social responsibility.

Fans of the first film’s special effects will not be let down, as the CGI animation is crisper and more intense. We also see some cool new web-shooting tricks Spidey has learned since adjusting to his powers. As in other Marvel films, Spider-Man 2 has its share of cameos, inside jokes and allusions to other comic book characters without making non-fanatics feel alienated.

What really sets this sequel apart from other comic book adaptations, though, is the believability of all its characters. Admittedly, a metallic-tentacle-wearing evil scientist would be pretty hard to swallow in any film. When that mad scientist is given plausible goals and understandable emotions, though, he becomes a real person, even when given the cheesy moniker “Doctor Octopus.” This level of character depth is used effectively for all of the film’s main characters, and it does so without changing the comic book’s original intentions. That is a miracle in itself–one expertly initiated by Alvin Sargent, the 73-year-old screenwriting veteran known for other character-driven scripts (two of which won him Oscars).

One of the riskiest, yet most effective, elements of the film is Sargent’s decision to show more of Parker than his alter ego, Spider-Man. As in the comic book, this emphasizes the vulnerability of Parker, an awkward Everyman who daily struggles to balance between his two identities. He’s a perfectly-accessible superhero: more human than Superman, less brooding than Batman and wittier than The Hulk.

In this film, Spider-Man’s role is deepened as he becomes an obvious Christ figure. To avoid spoiling the film, I’ll only say to look for a scene in which Spider-Man stretches his arms as if being crucified, “dies” and revives with a new resurrected body. That’s all I can tell you, but you’ll know it when you see it. It’s this scene that really drives home the selflessness of sacrificing one’s life for a flawed human race.

As is the case in many of Marvel’s back-issue comic books, Spider-Man 2 is jam-packed with valuable life lessons–without seeming too contrived or preachy. These lessons include responsibility, the power of true love, the daily giving up of oneself for the good of humanity and following one’s dreams. Though the movie’s overall themes are incredibly positive, it’s rated PG-13 for stylized action violence and probably a bit too intense for younger children.
The rest of the family, though, should immediately hop in the minivan, hit the video store and watch an action-packed, character-driven film that’s an impressive balance of adventure, sci-fi, romance, comedy and drama. Your chances of seeing another comic book character being treated with such depth and respect are slimmer than Alley McBeal’s waistline.

—Overview
—Review by Melinda Ledman
—Review by Benn Becker
—Review by Mike Furches
—Best Posters
—Trailers, Photos
—About this Film
—Spiritual Connections

Troy

Troy: It’s Greek to me

By Mark Stokes
5-15-04

Though this review’s title may reek of cheddar, it’s the best way I can describe my impression of Troy. The film’s strength and weakness is that it tries to interpret ancient Greek culture into a blockbuster film.
It did a wonderful job of interpreting the Greeks’ war-lust, ideology and hedonism, but it failed miserably in the storytelling department. Several scenes include well-known, respected actors awkwardly coming out-of-character for a split-second as if wondering, “Where is this plot going?” Though the acting wasn’t bad, the actors seemed to play recycled characters from their past films: Eric Bana was a bearded, brooding Bruce Banner-esque Hector; Brian Cox was a shouting, authoritative Agamemnon; Orlando Bloom was an effeminate, arrow-shooting Paris; Peter O’Toole was a melodramatic, haunted Priam; and Brad Pitt was his usual “I’m a sexy, cool, bad-body” character.
Part of the film’s problem is the timing of its release. While epic, period films are the “in” thing, they’re popular because they’ve been done well so far. While The Passion of the Christ is known for intimate, tight camera angles and The Lord of the Rings series makes use of larger-than-life, landscape-spanning shots, Troy offers nothing new. Not that there’s really much wrong with the film’s cinematography–the problem is that there’s not much right. The camera angles seem two-dimensional and unoriginal. The film has the ethereal wailing soundtrack of Passion, but it adds painful repetition and emotional stagnation. It even blatantly steals Saving Private Ryan’s beach-storming scene.
There are strengths in Troy, though. It seems to effectively capture the themes of Greek culture–even if those themes were repeated ad nauseam, as if the film were created to aid high-schoolers on the big social-studies mid-term.
The hedonism of the Greeks seemed to run throughout the film, but that probably has more to do with director Wolfgang Petersen’s obsession with Pitt’s body than anything else. The culture’s emphasis on sexuality is definitely showcased. Though Troy aims for sensuality and desire, it seems more akin to an Austin Powers running gag as strategically-placed arms and legs–along with quickly-moving camera sweeps–keep partially and near-nude bodies on the screen every 15 minutes. Adding the old James Bond motif of “I hate you; let’s have sex” doesn’t really help the credibility either.
Another theme in Troy deals with the closeness of familial relationships. Though this theme, like the others, is repeated at least six different ways, it’s effective and believable. We actually think that brothers, or cousins, or spouses, or fathers do care when a loved one is slaughtered.
Probably one of Petersen’s most innovative decisions in the film is to include protagonists on both sides of the ring–pitting likeable, yet flawed, heroes against one other. Instead of really fleshing out this idea, though, the director simply split the Greek ideals down the middle and gave half to Hector (Bana) and half to Achilles (Pitt). While Hector embodies the Greek emphasis on honor and patriotism, Achilles’ focus is on living for the moment and making a name for himself. Though these four themes are common in nearly every ancient Greek story, splitting them in half stifles character depth and adds repetitive dialogue. Stereotyping is frowned upon today, but that’s exactly what the director has done, essentially saying “All Spartans seek notoriety” or “Every Trojan is blindly religious.”
While most films dealing with ancient Greece incorporate thunderbolt-chunking gods and mythical claymation creatures, Troy treats the story as actual history, in which the gods are mentioned and revered but never seen. It’s a new approach, and it seems to add more legitimacy to the story.
It also seems to add a one-sided mockery of organized religion as a whole. King Priam (Peter O’Toole) is portrayed as a superstitious old fool, heeding the words of a vindictive prophet rather than listening to Hector’s common sense. Achilles, on the other hand, mocks the gods, calling the Trojans’ devotion “a one-sided romance.” This theme is probably a plea for the separation of church and state, but it also seems that the film uses the same method of “this view is wrong and I’m going to prove it through this one perspective.”
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not against jabs at the church–in many cases they’re necessary wake-up calls–but this seems to go beyond jabs into the realm of axe-grinding.
Many comments made by the story’s various leaders seem to be satirical commentary on Bush’s motives for Operation: Iraqi Freedom. That in itself could’ve been clever, but again, the director’s political axe-to-grind seems to overshadow the story’s plot.
It would be more believable and effective across the board if Peterson presented the pros and cons of each character’s motivation and then let the audience formulate a conclusion on its own. In that way, the story would seem more like reality and less like an insult to the audience’s collective intelligence.
All in all, Troy, rated R for graphic violence and some sexuality/nudity, wasn’t really a bad film. It had some poignant moments of philosophical meanderings on war and religion that seemed to come right out of Proverbs or Ecclesiastes. Its nearly three hours seemed to reek of mediocrity, though. One of the film’s most memorable lines occurs when the manic-depressive Achilles utters, “It never ends,” in reference to the cycle of war. For the first time, I could relate to his character, glancing at my watch in exasperation.

Spy Kids 3-D

8/15/03
Mark Stokes

Three-Dimensional Fun, Two-Dimensional Plot

It was the summer of 2001. I was on an airplane flying from Kenya to London. After spending the summer as a collegiate missionary in Mozambique, I was just ready to unwind and relax. Instead, what resulted was one of the most horrific, traumatic cases of retro-culture shock known to man. The cause: Spy Kids, the in-flight movie. The film was proof to me and all of the international passengers that we Americans might not be the intellectual giants that we claim to be. Needless to say, I skipped the sequel.
As if the second film wasn’t enough to kill the mindless franchise, they producers were able to scrounge up the money for a third feature! And what’s worse, they had the audacity to use a gimmick to sell the film! I felt outraged that those mind-numbing movies wouldn’t just end. I felt pity that Robert Rodriguez really thought the American public would watch a film they knew would be poorly-made just for the cardboard 3-D glasses. And then, I felt somewhat intrigued. Of course, this didn’t come all at once. It took days, even weeks, to suppress my initial feeling of disgust with the whole series. Then, I got to thinking. I’ve never seen a traditional, red-and-blue 3-D film in a theater before. Most of my generation and below hasn’t. The plot couldn’t be that bad, could it?
So I did it. I took the plunge. I decided, like every other kid in town, to take my parents to the movie. We were hesitant at first and it took a good bit of convincing – both for myself and for my parents. Finally, though, we all came to a consensus: It couldn’t be that bad, could it? It seemed that this phrase had been haunting my mind for weeks, getting louder and louder as I came closer to taking action.
When I got in the theater, the audience was rowdier than usual. It was a room full of kids enthralled about the fact that their parents looked three-dimensional through their magical, cardboard glasses. I have to admit, I felt that same giddiness as I struggled with the clear, plastic wrapping of my free shades. We were all ready for something new, something unexpected. As the movie began, we saw onscreen objects repeatedly hurled toward the audience. It was okay, but it just didn’t seem as thrilling as our initial concept of 3-D. I imagine several of the kids had been to theme parks like Universal Studios with real, in-your-face 3-D. This just wasn’t the same. I later discovered that the silver-tinted glasses at theme parks are more technologically-advanced and thus, too expensive to give away at theaters. After several minutes of GLASSES ON and GLASSES OFF flashing on the screen, I got used to the eye-straining, psychedelic appearance of everything and I began enjoying myself.
As the plot progressed, however, I began to notice how shallow and lacking the film really is. Being a good little film student, I began thinking of different twists and subplots that would add some much-needed depth to the movie. It was then that I heard the eager squeals of delight of the children around me and realized that this was the target audience. They didn’t need twists and depth. They needed a simple story with good, clean fun – and that’s just what they got. Yes, the story might seem perilous at times, but it’s nothing compared to what’s being shown on Saturday mornings. It was at this point that I began to have fun along with the kids. I became wrapped up in the onscreen video game world and didn’t really care about the emotional complexities of the protagonist. I was having fun!
I also realized that Spy Kids 3-D wasn’t just mindless entertainment. Just because it lacks in depth doesn’t mean it lacks in values. There was a very strong pro-family theme throughout the film. It also dealt heavily with other issues like respect for the elderly, looking beyond physical handicaps, and forgiveness. I was blown away at the way such a mainstream film presented blatant family values and didn’t take the typical route of crude humor. The film really was good, clean fun! Because of its surprising cleanliness and the lesson-oriented story, I would recommend it to children of any age. I would also recommend it to their parents. This would be a great film to attend as an entire family, as it actually encourages positive family relationships. For the adult, non-parent viewers, though, I’m not so sure this is the best film for you. If you’re looking for innovation and depth, you definitely want to skip this one. However, if a fun, mindless return to childhood is what you want, by all means go see it. Who knows, maybe afterwards you too can say, “It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

Whale Rider

2-15-04
Whale Rider offers
conviction vs. tradition

By Mark Stokes

Though independent films have typically been plagued with limited distribution, controversial content and poor cinematic quality, Whale Rider seems to break the mold.
The film has become uncharacteristically commonplace in video stores, even though it didn’t have the financial backing of a major studio during its limited theatrical release. Though it’s rated PG-13 for brief language and a momentary drug reference, Whale Rider is surprisingly clean and family-friendly. It also includes major studio-style filming techniques and acting, without sacrificing the artistic nature one would expect from an independent film.
The overall acting isn’t breathtaking, but 13-year-old Keisha Castle-Hughes’ portrayal of Pai, the youthful protagonist, won her an Oscar nomination for Best Actress (She’s the youngest person ever to be nominated for this category). Some have argued that her acting isn’t dynamic enough for this honor, but her mastery of a single facial expression definitely deserves recognition. This simple expression effectively denotes anguish, fear, determination and contemplation–four emotions difficult for any Hollywood actor to portray without seeming artificial.
Though Whale Rider (based on a novel written by Maori-born Witi Ihimaera) isn’t explicitly Christian, its overall theme seems to apply to our current state. Among the abundant mini-doctrinal debates within the church, the issue of female leadership seems to be somewhat prominent. This issue seems to be one of the driving forces behind the film’s plot.
The story begins with Pai’s birth, and the simultaneous deaths of her mother and infant twin brother. This creates problems for her Maori village, as her father was expected to sire a son who would unify and lead their people. Though Pai feels destined to be that leader, her grandfather, Koro, sees her ambition as blasphemy and, thus, considers it an omen of his people’s inevitable end. Nevertheless, Pai continues to study Maori traditions and beliefs, following a divine call that seems scandalous to the villagers.
Though Pai’s grandfather thinks he’s doing what’s best for the tribe by suppressing Pai’s call to leadership, in reality his stubbornness brings them to near extinction. His loyalty to tradition and legalism takes precedence over loyalty to his deity.
In the same way, many Christian men refuse to follow God’s call on their lives, yet they also refuse to allow women to take up that slack. Perhaps they would rather have God skip over their counterparts and let the rocks cry out instead. It’s this line of thinking Whale Rider seems to warn against.
Pai also reminds me of Jesus in that He, too, filled a messianic role that was expected to be filled by someone stronger–in His case, a more forceful, militaristic leader. Though the idea seemed insane to let a homeless pacifist lead a nation out of bondage, His influence on the world as we know it is immeasurable.
Unlike most successful films, Whale Rider’s style is more subdued and driven by character than by spectacle. Writer/director Niki Caro does an excellent job presenting the Maori culture in a respectable manner. The relaxed, natural pace of the film seems to work well to encourage viewer objectivity, rather than going overboard or proselytizing.
Whale Rider can also be seen as sociological commentary on the family unit. Pai, who is raised primarily by her grandparents, is exhibited good parenting skills by her grandmother, Nanny Flowers. Though frustrated that her son didn’t produce kingly offspring, she instantly accepts Pai and offers her ceaseless love.
Koro, however, embodies some not-so-glamorous parenting methods, including the lack of positive reinforcement and putting unnecessary pressure on children. Rather than presenting him as a cut-and-dry evil man, though, Caro presents him as a real person–capable of genuinely loving Pai at times.
In that same light, father figures in general are presented as catalysts for a child’s emotional state. Koro plays his role; so does Pai’s biological father, Porourangi. Another child longs for the attention of his father, who bounces in and out of jail.
Ultimately, it seems, Whale Rider is saying, “Men, you need to take your family, your religion and your life more seriously or it may all pass you by and go to someone more deserving.”

If you haven't read it...

Hi folks. This is an authentic message for my loyal fans--all of whom are related to me by blood. Though I've been writing film reviews for His Voice, a Christian newspaper in Warner Robins, for several years now, I've only submitted a few to Hollywood Jesus. The main reason for this is that, after writing review for HV, I read those on HJ and saw that they got my main points across much clearer. Well, since there's less of a danger of polluting a great, insightful website with my sophomoric rubbish, I'll be posting many of those past reviews on my own little space. If you want to read them, that makes me feel good. If you don't like any of them, www.hollywoodjesus.com offers better reviews from other critics.

Enjoy,

Mark Ezra Stokes

Constantine

Christian thought emanates from dark film

—Overview
—Trailers, Photos
—About this Film pdf
—Spiritual Connections

Download Constantine Discussion Guide
and Bible Study pdf

Not long ago, I engaged in one of the most spiritual, God-affirming conversations I can recall with a non-Christian friend. We openly discussed spiritual warfare, God’s relationship with man and the need for a divine sacrifice to allow that relationship.

The catalyst? Constantine—a dark, R-rated film containing an abundance of violence, images of evil and a smattering of profanity.

The film stars Keanu Reeves as John Constantine (note his initials): a chain-smoking, black-trenchcoat-clad anti-hero who, despite his bitterness toward God, uses his gift of discernment to battle power-hungry demons.

Why, you may ask, is Constantine bitter? Well, apparently this gift of discernment had previously driven him to suicide, though he was expediently sent back to the world of the living. Because suicide is a cardinal sin in the Catholic tradition, Constantine thinks the only way he can avoid damnation is to battle the enemies of God. Essentially, Constantine is trying to earn his salvation before he dies of terminal lung cancer (The film does a great job as an anti-smoking campaign).

Detective Angela Dodson (Rachel Weisz) is in the same boat. Instead of trying to earn her own salvation, she’s trying to earn that of her twin sister. The twin (also played by Weisz) was recently condemned to Hell because her attempt at reprieve from demonic oppression led to her own suicide—one a bit more permanent than Constantine’s.

Cinematically, the film soars. Utilizing the latest in computerized effects and dark, gritty lighting, Constantine is set in an eerily believable world of darkness and misery.

With a cast rife with familiar supporting-actor faces, the film seems to take actors from their previously successful roles: Constantine is similar to Reeves’ role in The Matrix, Weisz plays a character similar to hers in The Mummy, Pruitt Taylor Vince’s priest character is a dead ringer for that wiggly-eyed freaky guy in Identity, and so on. Because of this cautious decision on the part of director Francis Lawrence, the actors’ portrayals are all good, but none are unique or memorable.

The characters themselves, however, are distinctive twists of Biblical figures. The archangel Gabriel (Tilda Swinton) is a legalistic hypocrite, jealous because God extends his grace and salvation to undeserving humans. Satan is a well-dressed, likeable guy with the tragic flaw of hubris. The various demon-possessed characters follow in the tradition of those in the New Testament and The Exorcist (mainly because an actual exorcist remained on set during much of the shoot).

What’s most intriguing to me is the structure of Constantine. Though it starts out like a mindless action flick with senseless means of demon-busting (using large mirrors, screeching beetles, a keychain of special amulets, and a number of other not-quite-biblical Hollywood interpretations of the spiritual realm), Constantine moves into Catholic tradition, and finally into fundamental Christian theology.

Though the film begins with Deist assumptions about God’s “non-interference policy,” these assumptions are later questioned in a subtle, though powerfully spiritual ending that utilizes several levels of the Greek “deus ex machina” (rescue from a divine source).

Because of this structure, a mainstream audience is less guarded against the Christian concept of humanity’s need for salvation. Conversely, the Christian audience is able to find an increasing amount of spiritual truths in an otherwise non-connective film.

Constantine’s inability to connect with the audience in the typical sense comes from the attention it must spend to establish the conventions of John Constantine’s world. Filled with Latin-speaking demons, a voodoo priest charged with keeping spiritual balance and a psychic detective, Constantine’s cross-adorned environment is complex, to say the least.

Though this complexity blends different beliefs about the afterlife with various religious worldviews, it doesn’t go to the extent of The Matrix series, which strives for a universalistic blending of religions. Instead, Constantine looks at the occult and paranormal activity through the lens of Christian thought. Though not strict Christianity, this blend allows for incredible dialogue between the mature Christian and the non-Christian.

Spiritual maturity is key in viewing Constantine. Movies like this can really confuse children or new Christians. As with anything we put into our minds, it’s important that we have a firm grasp on what we believe before we can hope to get anything but spiritual insecurity out of such a cohesive blend of secular and divine.

—Overview
—Trailers, Photos
—About this Film pdf
—Spiritual Connections