Through a Screen Darkly
bonus commentary and
interview:
Christian
Culture's Court Jester: A Note of Thanks to Steve Taylor
This reflection on the work of Steve Taylor
was originally intended as part of the chapter on comedy in Through a
Screen Darkly.
Directed
by the Court Jester
of Christian Rock
As a teenager, I was disillusioned with the
relentless, unflinching solemnity and superficiality of most contemporary
Christian music. A great deal of what I heard on Christian radio amounted
to a tiresome program of redundant, shallow praises; disposable,
simplistic choruses; sentimental appeals to emotion rather than
challenging observations or provocative poetry. They were played with
effusive piano flourishes, programmed keyboards, cheesy drum machines, and
amateur electric guitars.
The Book of Psalms is constantly calling for “a new
song” to be offered in praise of God’s greatness, but when I tuned in to
the Christian radio station, I heard music that lacked passion,
authenticity, and true musicianship. It wasn’t new at all. It was a cheap
imitation of what had been popular on secular radio a year earlier. I
heard people giving God mediocrity instead of excellence.
Along came a tall, somewhat gawky, mischievous clown
named Steve Taylor, whose songs shocked and troubled many who heard them.
He wrote songs that made fun of Christian culture, highlighting the
tendency of churches to develop their own codes of conformity and
judgmentalism like any other community.
“I Want to Be a Clone” became an anthem for
frustrated Christian youth who knew that being a Christian meant more than
learning the right answers to questions, feeling good about ourselves, and
accepting whatever sermons were preached at us.
“Meltdown” was a song mocking pop culture’s obsession
with fashion and surface details. Taylor used extreme metaphors to draw
our attention to important unspoken truths.
In “Lifeboat,” children sang a shocking chorus about
throwing the elderly, the injured, the weak, and the disabled out of a
boat. In doing so, Taylor spotlighted society’s dangerous and arrogant
progression toward the devaluation of certain lives. He emphasized, by
implication, that it is sinful to reject those whose presence seems
inconvenient or discomforting.
Come to think of it, Christ himself was rather fond
of exaggeration for effect. To explain how important it is that we avoid
sin, he said that if a part of our body is involved in misbehavior we
should cut it off. The church has had very little trouble recognizing the
exaggeration — I don’t know of any denominations in which the men actually
gouge out their eyes if they find themselves momentarily distracted by a
Victoria’s Secret commercial.
To explain just how difficult it was to surrender
one’s pride and submit to God, Christ described salvation as a process of
being born into the world all over again. Prone to offense, literal-minded
Pharisees were bewildered at such talk. But Nicodemus was brave enough to
inquire about the teacher’s extreme claim. He asked Jesus if this meant he
would have to climb back inside his mother’s womb. Jesus patiently
introduced Nicodemus to the idea of the Fanciful Metaphor, explaining that
such colorful terms gave us a way of understanding something crucial.
But Steve Taylor did more than poke fun at Christian
and secular culture. He also sang songs that were affirmations of true
faith, confessions of doubt and failure. Because of his willingness to
laugh at the folly of believers, his songs of praise to God resonated with
integrity and authenticity. (And I must not forget to
mention ... these were powerful, excellent songs, full of
specificity and personality.)
Many of us found great relief in his music
because we knew that his vision was sharp enough to see the hypocrisy,
self-righteousness, and power-plays happening in the name of Christ. And
it bolstered our faith to learn that someone could see these things, laugh
at them, reject them, and offer his praise and allegiance to God.
Did I mention that his melodies and music showed more
ingenuity and craftsmanship than almost anything else on Christian radio?
In fact, when Taylor formed a rock group called Chagall Guevara, their
first album exhibited such vision and quality that even the mainstream
press noticed — Rolling Stone heralded the band as the most
exciting rock group since The Clash.
Steve Taylor is still courageously lifting up mirrors
so that the church can see its flaws and learn from the experience. His
first film, The Second Chance, is about the pastor of an inner-city
church who struggles to meet the needs of the desperate and the
despairing. The mega-church that oversees this smaller ministry decides to
eliminate the facility in order to earn money for an expansion, proceeding
with a blind eye to the damage this will do to those in serious need.
The film stars Michael W. Smith as the music minister
of the mega-church, a man who comes to see just how far he has strayed
from Christ’s teaching. Because he is the son of the mega-church’s pastor,
he finds himself caught in the middle, trying to do the right thing.
The film received mixed responses by Christian
culture, and the lack of enthusiasm from its intended audience and its
studio doomed its theatrical release. I read more than one review in
Christian publications in which the writer complained that Taylor should
not have discussed the imperfections of the church in front of a secular
audience.
And in this way, we reinforce the point — that we are
too proud to admit our weaknesses, and the gross caricatures painted by
mainstream culture which ridicule Christians as pious and condescending,
well, they’re often right on the mark.
In Thoughts in Solitude, Thomas Merton writes:
Teach me to bear a humility
which shows me, without ceasing, that I am a liar and a fraud and that,
even though this is so, I have an obligation to strive after truth, to be
as true as I can, even though I will inevitably find all my truth half
poisoned with deceit. This is the terrible thing about humility: that it
is never fully successful. If it were only possible to be completely
humble on this earth. But, no, that is the trouble.
It takes humility to do good
comedy. It takes humility to receive it.
And for the gift of his insightful
comedy, I want to thank Steve Taylor. He's the real thing, and he's made a
huge difference in my life.
a
conversation with Steve Taylor
I spoke with Steve Taylor in
October 2006 about the DVD release of his film The Second Chance.
JO: First
of all, a formal eruption of gratitude: When I was but a teenager,
bewildered and be-pimpled, your songwriting had a great deal to do with my
learning to think more carefully about my faith. You prevented me from
blowing up any clinics or throwing anyone off lifeboats. And it gave me a
lot of courage to question and challenge behavior within Christian circles
that did not align with the teachings of Christ. Thank you. Thank you. And
thank you again.
(Now’s
your chance to deflect all of this praise and say, “I couldn’t have done
it without…”)
ST:
...couldn’t have done it without (in no particular order) The Clash,
Francis Schaeffer, my parents, David Bowie, Randy Newman, Os Guinness,
Elvis Costello, Tony Campolo...hmmm, the list needs more women...Flannery
O’Connor, Mother Teresa...
JO: Let’s
stroll back down memory lane a bit: It must have been challenging to deal
with the range of responses that your early albums received, as they were
rowdy and challenging compared to the norm? Do you have any scars from
having the courage to introduce elements such as satire and irony into the
arena of Christian music?
ST: For
better or worse, it was all I knew how to do. The style of music I wanted
to make seemed to demand that type of lyric. And there were enough
absurdities going on within Christendom that I had no problem finding
material – I recall some very large fish swimming in the proverbial
barrel.
JO: How do
you think the opportunities and challenges for Christians who are singers
and songwriters have changed since you were starting out? Or have they?
ST: I
look at someone like Sufjan Stevens as the best current example of what’s
possible these days. If you’re undeniably good, being a Christian no
longer seems to carry the same stigma that it did in past decades.
JO: Did
you want to become a filmmaker all along the way? Were you dancing in the
video to “Jim Morrison’s Grave” while thinking, “What I really want to do
is direct?” Or is that a more recent development?
ST: It
preceded my musical aspirations and dates all the way back to grade
school. I’m sure it somehow tied in with my top priority from the day I
entered kindergarten: Making girls laugh. I studied both music and
filmmaking in college, but the opportunities came faster in music. I
decided feature filmmaking could wait, and I was able to keep my toe in
the filmmaking pond by directing music videos, promo pieces and
documentaries.
JO: What
have you learned from the experience of developing, filming, releasing,
and marketing The
Second Chance? What
will you do differently on your next film projects?
ST: I’m
not a mathematician, but coming from the world of music, the rough
equation would be m=aX10 (movie = album X 10). If an album cost
around $100,000 to make, then add another zero for the movie budget. If an
album took 8-10 weeks, the movie took a couple of years. For every
critical creative decision made daily on an album, there were ten times
that many coming at me each day on the movie set. For every person in the
recording studio, there were 10-20 on set. Maybe I’ll run this equation by
Stephen Hawking for a proof.
The
process of making the movie was pretty wonderful. I don’t want this to
sound like an awards speech, but I had great creative collaborators
including my longtime cinematographer and co-writer Ben Pearson, my other
co-writer Chip Arnold, producers Coke Sams and Clarke Gallivan, and a
really fine crew. I also loved working with the actors, many of whom were
shooting their first movie. Michael W. Smith was a blast to work with as
well as a great encourager, and his co-star jeff obafemi carr was superb.
It was
a very tight budget, which affects everything, but I’m pleased with the
way it turned out. I’d originally wanted my directorial debut to be a
comedy, but that script wasn’t ready and this one was. In retrospect, it
was probably for the best – the story in The Second Chance seems to
pull people in, which helps make my rookie director mistakes a bit less
obvious.
The
marketing was a bit more problematic. I encountered a lot of the same
attitudes that made me want to start my own record label, including some
baffling decisions that I protested quite loudly at the time. But
ultimately it wasn’t an area I could exert much influence over. And the
nice thing about DVDs is that they provide their own second chance.
JO:
Recently, I read an interview in which a Christian artist flinched at
criticism of his work. He pointed to the money it was making, and the
number of people who had testified that the work brought them to Christ,
and he said that this was all the evidence he needed that he had fulfilled
his role as an artist and a Christian. Personally, I’m skeptical that box
office success and the number of souls saved have much to do with artistic
excellence.
How do you
measure the success of a project? What is it that tells you that a film,
or a song, is as good as it should be?
ST: I’m
sure he and I wouldn’t get on very well, because that attitude drives me
nuts.
Filmmaking is a particularly bad career choice if you’re afraid of
criticism, because when it comes to movies, everyone’s a critic. Since I
knew The Second Chance had scenes and themes that some could find
offensive or controversial, a lot of the final editing process involved
showing it to audiences and seeing if it was controversial for the right
reasons. I wasn’t willing to stop editing until I was reasonably sure the
movie was hitting the right notes with its intended audience.
I
looked forward to reading the reviews, and I thought for the most part the
critics were pretty fair and the critical consensus was about right. Since
I’ve still got so much to learn as a filmmaker, any advice from seasoned
experts is a blessing.
There
are various artifacts from my creative past that make me wince, but it
wasn’t for lack of trying at the time. My goal is to not to let anything
go out the door until it’s as good as I can make it.
JO: What
has been the most gratifying outcome of making
The Second Chance?
ST:
With the country so polarized at the moment, I was happy that a movie
coming from an “orthodox” Christian perspective could cross so many lines.
People on all sides of the various divides felt like this was “their”
movie.
And, of
course, I was happy that our little movie got picked up by Sony Pictures
Releasing. Since I’d taken out a second mortgage on my house to make it,
that part felt a bit like a non-gambler winning the lottery.
JO: You’ve
said that you chose this project because it was about “what you know”…
pastors, churches, and church culture. Filmmakers do frequently
misrepresent what pastors and churches are really like, so it’s good that
you took this on. Have you had much feedback from pastors about The
Second Chance? Have they been pleased or challenged by the film?
ST:
It’s ultimately a movie made for the church, and it’s meant to make people
uncomfortable, as it deals with issues we as a church don’t necessarily
want to address. The reaction from most pastors I spoke to was very
favorable, but it did make some of them nervous. One of my favorite scenes
is early on in a restaurant when the senior pastor won’t send his steak
back – the server knows who he is, and he just doesn’t feel comfortable
causing extra trouble. My dad was like that, and it’s one of many things I
admire about him. When you’re a pastor, you’re reminded daily that your
life is not your own.
A
constant challenge in crafting the story was to keep enough dramatic
tension so the plot moves forward without drifting into simplistic
propaganda of the “Big White Church Bad/Little Black Church Good” variety.
Audiences have been conditioned by Hollywood to think in simplistic terms,
especially when it comes to matters of faith and race, and we tend to view
such conflicts as The Man vs. The Underdog. We worked hard to give
everyone their reasons – even the head of The Rock’s board believes his
job is all about stewardship.
I
thought Michael W. Smith made a particularly gutsy decision in playing his
role – his public profile made the part more relatable to a church
audience, and he wasn’t afraid to play a very flawed character. That
particular bit of casting still feels to me like an appropriately
subversive way to get people to watch a movie that’s meant to make them
squirm.
JO: If you
could set up a film course for aspiring filmmakers, what films would you
have them watch, and why?
ST: I’d
start with a double feature of The Bicycle Thief and Raising
Arizona. Then I’d ask anyone who didn’t like either of the movies to
please leave and never come back.
JO: What
kind of preconceptions would you most like to see artists within the
church start to overcome in the next decade?
ST:
Steve Turner’s book “Imagine” has already made the case. The Amazon link
is
here.
JO: If the
next generation’s Steve Taylor were to show up in Christian music right
now, what kinds of things would he be singing to rattle the cages and
shake up the status quo? (And, I know you’re sick of this, but I promised
someone that I’d ask… Is there any chance of another rock album from the
Fritz-master?)
ST: If
I thought too hard about that question, it would just make me want to get
back into the recording studio. And I certainly haven’t ruled that out for
some future date, but for now I’m itching to make more movies.
JO: What
have you heard recently, out there on the open sea of music, that’s made
you go berserk with joy like the dudes in those iPod commercials?
ST:
It’s a long list – now that I’m no longer in the music business, I
actually enjoy listening to music again: Sufjan, Arcade Fire, clean
versions of Kanye West, the Danielson “Ships” album, various L.A. Symphony
tracks, a Nashville band called Umbrella Tree...hmmm, the list needs more
women – did Mother Teresa ever record anything?
JO: In
“Harrowdown Hill,” when Thom Yorke sings, “Did I fall or was I pushed?”,
is he referring to Cornerstone 1984?
ST: The festival’s name
was no accident - anything of musical value in the last twenty-five years
can somehow be traced back to Cornerstone.
