The introduction
to
Through a Screen Darkly
“You didn’t
like it? Why not? That movie changed my life!”
“How can you call that piece of trash your favorite movie of the year?”
Over the last decade of writing film reviews for magazines and Web sites
like
LookingCloser.org
and
Christianity
Today Movies,
I’ve received all kinds of questions, some of them charged with emotion.
“How can I know if a movie is safe for my children?” “Aren’t you taking
this too seriously? Isn’t it just entertainment?” “American
Beauty changed my life — how can you say that it’s flawed?”
“The New World bored me to tears. How could you
recommend something that moves so slowly?” Many of these questions require
more than short answers, more than an argument.
Movies inspire passionate feelings. And those feelings, once expressed,
can inspire strong bonds between us, or cause us to clash. As I sort
through my email and talk with moviegoers at work, church, or film
festivals, I find that once we get past those initial, emotional responses
and begin to explore our shared experiences and differing interpretations,
we can learn a great deal about each other and ourselves.
Because I am a Christian and a movie critic, I wrestle with certain
questions that other film reviewers may never face. Religious readers are
particularly interested in what filmmaking and faith have to do with each
other. Viewers raise questions about movies that are “worldly,” or
violent, or films in which they perceive a political agenda. One asks, “Is
it okay for Christians to watch R-rated movies?” Another writes, “You gave
that Bruce Willis film a good review — but what about the foul language?”
Some are troubled by the sex scene in Cold Mountain, or the
unflattering portrayal of prayerful Christians in Talladega Nights:
The Legend of Ricky Bobby. Some are worried about witchcraft in the
world of Harry Potter, and others declare that Hollywood is preoccupied
with attacking traditional values. “The Bible says we should have nothing
to do with darkness,” a reader reminded me. “So, how can you justify
spending so much time at the movies?”
I’ve wrestled with many of the same questions in past years. The answers
did not come easy. While other moviegoers were quick to instruct me on
what movies were good or bad, backing up their arguments with Bible verses
and statistics, my experience and understanding of Christian freedom and
responsibility led me to different conclusions and to new questions as
well.
Thus, when I respond to readers, I find my answers require something more
than a simple explanation. I end up sharing stories about my journey. I
talk about my changing relationships with certain films, my conversations
with moviegoers and filmmakers, and events that transformed me.
So I decided to write a book.
And the book became another chapter in that journey. I retraced my steps
backward from Michael Haneke’s Code Unknown,
Krzysztof Kieslowski’s Three Colors trilogy, and
Wim Wenders’ Wings of Desire, all the way to the
days when Raiders of the Lost Ark and
Star Wars stimulated my young imagination. As I did,
I began to see how the power of art has led me to growth and
understanding. I realized that I was already responding to the light
shining through art when I was nine years old, delighting as Kermit the
Frog headed out of the swamp on a rickety bicycle to pursue his dreams in
The Muppet Movie.
I was also startled to discover how profoundly time and experience have
changed my perspective. As I re-read my own review of Spike Jonze’s film
Adaptation, I was ashamed to find that I had
reacted hastily to the film. The characters’ reckless behavior had made me
uncomfortable, and so I had judged the film prematurely, without
perceiving the film’s meaningful observations on human depravity.
Revisiting the film since then, I’ve been moved and inspired. Other films
that ignited my enthusiasm now, after a second or third viewing, seem
heavy-handed or derivative — even shallow.
This is one of the things I’ve learned along the way — a first impression
is rarely the final word on a movie, and, in fact, there is probably no
final word at all. Art needs time to settle in our minds and hearts so
that the process of contemplation, discussion, and ongoing exploration can
open up possibilities that never occurred to us in the theater.
This process was first modeled for me by Roger Ebert and Gene Siskel on
television. Even as a ten-year-old, I wanted to understand how two
experienced and respected moviegoers could disagree so passionately and
glean such varying insights from the same movies. Their heated exchanges
made art seem so much more mysterious, so full of possibility. I began to
understand that this — interpretation, conversation, and revelation — was
what art was all about. Even though they concluded with “thumbs up” or
“thumbs down,” moviegoing was not really about casting judgments. No
simple checklist of do’s and don’ts, no quick scan for certain volatile
ingredients, could lead me to a fair assessment of a film. This was to be
a journey.
I’m sure that many of my strongest friendships would never have grown
without the art that provoked me to share feelings with others and learn
from their perspectives. Would I have met and fallen in love with my wife
if I had not learned a few things from movies about love and looking
closer?
Writing this book has shown me how movies have enhanced my life. It has
reminded me of why I do this — why I see movies two or three times (or
more), why I examine the truth that shines darkly through the veil of the
movie screen, and why I go home to write about the experience. Just as
Christ’s listeners attended to his metaphors and parables, and heard him
say, “Those who have ears to hear, let them hear,” so I have found that we
can glimpse transforming truth through the beauty of art if we put aside
fear and judgment, and look with “eyes to see.”
This book is not a catalogue prescribing what movies you see and what you
should avoid. It’s not a technical manual on the finer points of
filmmaking. It is, rather, an invitation to the journey. To those who
wrote to me with questions about moviegoing and never received a reply — I
apologize for the delay. But I could not give you a satisfactory response
without presenting the bigger picture, without taking you to the movies
with me.
I hope you’ll come along and join the conversation.
