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
6 Comments:
I am obsessed with the literary Christ figure. I have the tendancy to make any male (and sometimes female) character into a Christ figure.
I'm glad someone else does that too. People make fun of me for that, but I see that you are a kindred spirit.
Thanks Kirsten. We'll have to start a support group.
Have you read any Joseph Campbell or other mythologists? I've found that their insight on traditional sacrificial heroes makes me feel less conspiratorial when I find Christ figures.
What are some of your favorite literary variations on the Christ figure?
Well, congrats- glad you've finally watched this movie. I assume you've seen the first?
Yup. Was pleasantly surprised with each. POTC1 b/c it was based on an amusement park ride, and PTOC2 b/c it was a sequel to a big hit. Now, I'm just looking forward to the third. What were your thoughts?
The first one I absolutely adored. I bought the DVD just to show my parents the picture on the front (over-exag, get over it)
The first one stood alone. It was magical and had a great plot. Every character was believable to me. They made me laugh. I was on the edge of my seat worried about them. I was relieved when all was a happy ending.
When we performed Into the Woods, I insisted we should cut the entire second act and focus only on the happy innocence of life. But that delusion was short lived when a wise professor informed me that characters must grow up and have a 'coming-of-age,' if you will. Otherwise, the play may risk being superficial.
Where am I going with this? Oh yeah, POTC II(not PTOC ;) is more a growing-up process for Will, Elizabeth and yes, even Jack. They faced slight danger in the first one, but now their friendships and bonds have to be tested and they are taken to evil, dark places they never dreamed of. There was no happy ending for POTC II.
I liked it alot- still, I cling to the "first act" and hope that POTC III ends with the beautiful, light side of life.
Or at least Liz and Will finally marry :)
I think with trilogies--I mean real story-oriented trilogies that are not JUST focused on making 3 times the profit--that understanding of the pacing is important.
Think about the second films of more successful trilogies: The Two Towers, The Empire Strikes Back, The Godfather II, etc.
The REALLY great trilogies all go through the darkest stuff during the second film. Why? Well, in film one, we need to get to know the characters, because it takes quite an investment to come back two more times if we don't care about the heroes.
The second film takes the identifiable characters in the darkest of situations. Why? Because if the first film did its job, we will NOT be satisfied with seeing our new friends in trouble unless we get to see them get out of trouble (which conveniently happens in the third film).
Structurally, that works, because if the character goes through no conflict, there's no identifiability from the audience, because we all go through struggles that we want to resolve. Also, it would be PAINFULLY boring if Jack said, "I want to keep the Black Pearl for a few years longer," and Davy Jones says, "Alright." And then Will and Liz would get married and never have an argument. Then, Bootstrap Bill would say, "I don't wanna be dead anymore. I think I'll move in with my son and make him pancakes every morning." Though we may like seeing this result in the end, if the characters don't seem to WORK for their rewards, we don't care.
Spiritually, the structure can work, because it's allegorical to the Christian walk ("I once was lost, but now I'm found, was blind, but now I see"), or for enlightenment in general (see Plato's "Allegory of the Cave").
Tom Shadyac had a good quote when interviewed about his film, Bruce Almighty, "The most powerful stories we tell are (about) people who come from dark colors. People who have been challenged by addictions, or abuse. And to overcome that is really the light overcoming the darkness. Without the darkness you have lost (both) humanity and the power of the light."
So, long story short, yeah POTC II seemed pretty stinkin' dark, but like any other human being, I'm looking forward to the light which comes through ultimate redemption.
Thanks for your comments! Any more thoughts?
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