ABSTRACT
Having established that the type of films which are most germane to a Christian reading are those which evince social or psychological realism or offer authentic character development, this chapter will explore seven case studies where a creative, critical and challenging theological vision may be discerned. I have deliberately sought to examine films from a variety of filmmakers and from a variety of different eras and genres in order to demonstrate that the parameters of this discussion are far from narrow or constricted. Indeed, a rigorous theological reading may be found in some of the most unlikely and most unusual of places. The first case study is Fight Club, a film by David Fincher which relates the story of an alienated white-collar young man who becomes involved in the underground sadomasochistic world of fight clubs as a reaction to the bland world of advertising and materialism. The film examines the division between the spiritual and the material and goes so far as to suggest that, in sacramental terms, the physical can sometimes be the gateway to the spiritual. This is followed by a Barbra Streisand drama, The Prince of Tides, where a New York psychiatrist and her patient are both healed of their respective demons once they embark upon an adulterous relationship. The film examines the themes of shame, forgiveness and reconciliation, and suggests that the broken human spirit can sometimes be healed in the most unexpected ways. The third case study is The Purple Rose of Cairo, a Woody Allen film-within-a-film where a 1930s movie star literally walks out of his latest picture and into the arms of his most besotted fan in the audience. Building on the discussion generated in Chapter 2, this film is shown to constitute a significant treatise on the poverty of escapism and the dangers of becoming fixated on a fantasy world. This is developed in the fourth case study, Billy Liar, where a working-class man growing up in the North of England in the 1960s evades his responsibilities by escaping into the dream world of his imagination. The key theme here is that of responsibility, and the need to confront life authentically rather than to disengage from it as a reaction to all of the dreariness and uncertainty that it has to offer. The fifth is a caustic Billy Wilder comedy, The Apartment, whose protagonist loans out his bachelor pad in order that his work colleagues can go somewhere private to conduct their romantic trysts. The film explores the nakedness of the human capacity for advancement and greed, even at the expense of the lives of others, to the point of asking: is there a price on human life? In the sixth, Groundhog Day, an arrogant TV weatherman finds himself mysteriously forced to repeat the worst
day of his life over and over again in a small American town. There is a strong eschatological dimension to this film, and it also constitutes a rich parable on the difference between self-centred pleasure and working for the good of others as a prerequisite to finding personal fulfilment. The value of embracing creation in all its glory is also explored. Finally, the seventh case study, Raging Bull, focuses on the life of a middleweight boxing champion whose primary means of communication – both inside and outside of the ring – is through violence. The film explores the theme of finding redemption through violence and suggests that even the most brutish and degenerate human being does not necessarily lie outside the scope of redemptive grace. In each case, attention is given to the role of the director who made the films,
including a discussion of some of the other works in his or her filmic canon which can help shed light on the way creative Christian theology can be undertaken in conversation with film. Where necessary, biographical material is also provided. This is in recognition of the fact that no film is ever produced in a vacuum and that very often the filmmakers themselves have a theological vision – whether implicitly or explicitly – that is communicated through their life and work. This is particularly the case with Martin Scorsese, for whom the Roman Catholic Church was a formative influence in his youth, and continues to shape, mould and inform his life and work today. Accordingly, the section on Scorsese’s Raging Bull is disproportionately longer than any of the other sections in this chapter, but not, I believe, unjustifiably so. Inevitably, this is just a small sample of films that could have been discussed, and it is hoped that this chapter might precipitate, on the part of the reader, discussion about a whole host of other films which may also be found to be amenable to a theological interpretation.
