Summer Blockbusters of '06
His Eyes are on Jack Sparrow: Jesus Walks in the Summertime
By Mark Ezra Stokes
7-17-06
Christ-figures seem more blatant in mainstream films these days—particularly in summer blockbusters. For that, we can thank both the commercial success of The Passion of the Christ and the critical success of The Writer’s Journey (Christopher Vogler’s book on mythic structure in screenplays). Though some executives may think all it takes is some lantern-jawed hero with a death wish and outstretched arms, this summer has reminded us that there must be more to the equation. There must be connectivity—something few of the latest films seem to have grasped.
Though the X-Men franchise is always full of sacrificial figures, its third installment (rated PG-13 for intense sequences of action violence, some sexual content and language) is so focused on obscure mutant cameos that it seems like an action-packed extension of the Where’s Waldo? series, with strings of “shocking” deaths to keep its viewers interested. The result is pretty eye candy, but not much more. If we had been invited to share in the lives of a mere fraction of those loveably freakish characters, we would’ve more than likely been left in awe at their selflessness in death (see John 15:13).
Even comedy films, such as Nacho Libre (rated PG for some rough action, and crude humor including dialogue), have variations on the Christ-figure. Though Nacho (Jack Black) feels a divine calling into the world of professional wrestling, he must forsake his monastic brothers, who see such activities as “scandalous.” Few elements of Nacho’s life allegorize that of Christ, but he makes the Christ-like decision to risk social death by rejecting extra-biblical dogma and pursuing what he believes is God’s call. The minds behind Napoleon Dynamite do seem to use one flatulence joke too many with this one, but the heartwarming sacrifice seems to redeem the film and keep it inches away from the realm of “So what?”
The allegorical intent of Superman Returns is the most blatant of the summer. Jor-El (Marlon Brando, in an unused clip from the 1978 Superman) delivers a voiceover monologue that sounds vaguely familiar: “They can be a great people, Kal-El, if they wish to be. They only lack the light to show the way. This reason, above all, is why I send them you, my only son.” Lois Lane (Kate Bosworth) claims several times that she doesn’t need a “savior.” Also, Superman (Brandon Routh) floats over the world with outstretched arms and a weary expression that looks directly gleaned from the Garden of Gethsemane.
The perennial problem with the Superman character, though, is he often seems too super. Like the early films retelling the life and death of Christ (From the Manger to the Cross (1912), King of Kings (1927), etc.), Superman Returns involves a protagonist who is so divine, it’s difficult for a human audience to relate to him. Instead, like Lois Lane, we feel alienated from such a Christ-figure or, like Lex Luther, we feel jealous of his perfection (because it reminds us of our imperfections).
Pirates of the Caribbean 2: Dead Man’s Chest (rated PG-13 for intense sequences of adventure violence, including frightening images) most effectively portrays the poignancy of self-sacrifice, and it also tells the best story I’ve seen all summer. I think each of these two elements—believable self-sacrifice and a good story—are essential for the film’s success and the success of other films that choose to incorporate Christ-figures.
Rather than sending us through some melodramatic story where compassion is expected, screenwriters Ted Elliott and Terry Rossio infuse light and wonderfully timed comedy into a dark world where death and damnation remain on everyone’s minds. Imagine a blend of Captain Kidd and the Keystone Kops—a Saturday-morning serialized drama where Buster Crabbe and Buster Keaton meet to fling pies at nefarious villains. Though it’s an unlikely meshing of nostalgias, it has proven to work quite well in the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise, and this film is no exception.
If Superman Returns embodies a Christ that is more God than man, Pirates of the Caribbean 2 shows multiple characters—all very gritty and human—who display their awareness that the ultimate display of love, friendship and loyalty is self-sacrifice. In the realm of Christ-figures, Pirates of the Caribbean 2 is closer to the depictions of Jesus Christ Superstar (1973), The Last Temptation of Christ (1988) or Jesus (2000). As a result, we can easily identify with heroes just as flawed as us. “If these people can make the greatest of sacrifices,” we ask ourselves, “then what’s stopping us from dying for noble causes?”
Though none of this summer’s films identify specifically the relevance of the historical Christ, they lead to some pretty profound truths. X-Men 3 teaches us that self-sacrifice only affects us if we feel that we’ve somehow encountered the victim on a personal level. Nacho Libre shows that self-sacrifice often involves more than just physical death—that social death can be nearly as painful and profound.
We learn from Superman Returns that if Jesus Christ were exclusively divine, he would’ve been beyond our reach—a catalyst for alienation and jealousy. The best-case scenario of a direct encounter with the solely divine would include piles upon piles of corpses (Exodus 33:20) and perhaps a few lucky stragglers with shiny faces (Exodus 33:21-23 and Exodus 34:29). We learn from Pirates of the Caribbean 2 that if Jesus were just a man who happened to do nice things for people, we’d be affected by the profundity of his compassion and ultimate sacrifice, but we’d be scratching our heads about his reliability and/or sanity (in Jesus’ case, directly relating to his claims of divinity in John 5:18, John 3:13, John 8:23, John 8:58-59 and John 10:30-33).
The beauty of the historical Christ is his perfect balance between the divine and the human. While his humanity allows us to identify with a person who has walked in our shoes, his divinity provides a higher standard for us to pursue, and access to someone far greater than ourselves or our very-human acquaintances. The historical Christ is the perfect mediator—the perfection of Superman mixed with the accessibility of Captain Jack Sparrow. Thank God for that blend. And thank Hollywood for reminding us of that blend.
By Mark Ezra Stokes
7-17-06
Christ-figures seem more blatant in mainstream films these days—particularly in summer blockbusters. For that, we can thank both the commercial success of The Passion of the Christ and the critical success of The Writer’s Journey (Christopher Vogler’s book on mythic structure in screenplays). Though some executives may think all it takes is some lantern-jawed hero with a death wish and outstretched arms, this summer has reminded us that there must be more to the equation. There must be connectivity—something few of the latest films seem to have grasped.
Though the X-Men franchise is always full of sacrificial figures, its third installment (rated PG-13 for intense sequences of action violence, some sexual content and language) is so focused on obscure mutant cameos that it seems like an action-packed extension of the Where’s Waldo? series, with strings of “shocking” deaths to keep its viewers interested. The result is pretty eye candy, but not much more. If we had been invited to share in the lives of a mere fraction of those loveably freakish characters, we would’ve more than likely been left in awe at their selflessness in death (see John 15:13).
Even comedy films, such as Nacho Libre (rated PG for some rough action, and crude humor including dialogue), have variations on the Christ-figure. Though Nacho (Jack Black) feels a divine calling into the world of professional wrestling, he must forsake his monastic brothers, who see such activities as “scandalous.” Few elements of Nacho’s life allegorize that of Christ, but he makes the Christ-like decision to risk social death by rejecting extra-biblical dogma and pursuing what he believes is God’s call. The minds behind Napoleon Dynamite do seem to use one flatulence joke too many with this one, but the heartwarming sacrifice seems to redeem the film and keep it inches away from the realm of “So what?”
The allegorical intent of Superman Returns is the most blatant of the summer. Jor-El (Marlon Brando, in an unused clip from the 1978 Superman) delivers a voiceover monologue that sounds vaguely familiar: “They can be a great people, Kal-El, if they wish to be. They only lack the light to show the way. This reason, above all, is why I send them you, my only son.” Lois Lane (Kate Bosworth) claims several times that she doesn’t need a “savior.” Also, Superman (Brandon Routh) floats over the world with outstretched arms and a weary expression that looks directly gleaned from the Garden of Gethsemane.
The perennial problem with the Superman character, though, is he often seems too super. Like the early films retelling the life and death of Christ (From the Manger to the Cross (1912), King of Kings (1927), etc.), Superman Returns involves a protagonist who is so divine, it’s difficult for a human audience to relate to him. Instead, like Lois Lane, we feel alienated from such a Christ-figure or, like Lex Luther, we feel jealous of his perfection (because it reminds us of our imperfections).
Pirates of the Caribbean 2: Dead Man’s Chest (rated PG-13 for intense sequences of adventure violence, including frightening images) most effectively portrays the poignancy of self-sacrifice, and it also tells the best story I’ve seen all summer. I think each of these two elements—believable self-sacrifice and a good story—are essential for the film’s success and the success of other films that choose to incorporate Christ-figures.
Rather than sending us through some melodramatic story where compassion is expected, screenwriters Ted Elliott and Terry Rossio infuse light and wonderfully timed comedy into a dark world where death and damnation remain on everyone’s minds. Imagine a blend of Captain Kidd and the Keystone Kops—a Saturday-morning serialized drama where Buster Crabbe and Buster Keaton meet to fling pies at nefarious villains. Though it’s an unlikely meshing of nostalgias, it has proven to work quite well in the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise, and this film is no exception.
If Superman Returns embodies a Christ that is more God than man, Pirates of the Caribbean 2 shows multiple characters—all very gritty and human—who display their awareness that the ultimate display of love, friendship and loyalty is self-sacrifice. In the realm of Christ-figures, Pirates of the Caribbean 2 is closer to the depictions of Jesus Christ Superstar (1973), The Last Temptation of Christ (1988) or Jesus (2000). As a result, we can easily identify with heroes just as flawed as us. “If these people can make the greatest of sacrifices,” we ask ourselves, “then what’s stopping us from dying for noble causes?”
Though none of this summer’s films identify specifically the relevance of the historical Christ, they lead to some pretty profound truths. X-Men 3 teaches us that self-sacrifice only affects us if we feel that we’ve somehow encountered the victim on a personal level. Nacho Libre shows that self-sacrifice often involves more than just physical death—that social death can be nearly as painful and profound.
We learn from Superman Returns that if Jesus Christ were exclusively divine, he would’ve been beyond our reach—a catalyst for alienation and jealousy. The best-case scenario of a direct encounter with the solely divine would include piles upon piles of corpses (Exodus 33:20) and perhaps a few lucky stragglers with shiny faces (Exodus 33:21-23 and Exodus 34:29). We learn from Pirates of the Caribbean 2 that if Jesus were just a man who happened to do nice things for people, we’d be affected by the profundity of his compassion and ultimate sacrifice, but we’d be scratching our heads about his reliability and/or sanity (in Jesus’ case, directly relating to his claims of divinity in John 5:18, John 3:13, John 8:23, John 8:58-59 and John 10:30-33).
The beauty of the historical Christ is his perfect balance between the divine and the human. While his humanity allows us to identify with a person who has walked in our shoes, his divinity provides a higher standard for us to pursue, and access to someone far greater than ourselves or our very-human acquaintances. The historical Christ is the perfect mediator—the perfection of Superman mixed with the accessibility of Captain Jack Sparrow. Thank God for that blend. And thank Hollywood for reminding us of that blend.
posted by Greg Wright at 11:32 PM
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