Are You There, God?

Movies: Silence

A 161 minute long film about 17th century Jesuit priests facing torture and persecution in Japan hardly sounds like a fun movie. And it isn't fun, like, at all. I happily give my readers permission not to skip this one. Read the novel, by Shusako Endo instead. It's shorter!

But for those out there who have some sort of relationship to Christianity/religion, whether you are devout, middling, or militantly atheistic, it's worth the watch merely for the food for thought. It asks the question: is the path to God through rigidity and refusal to back down, or through flexibility and mercy?

Silence is a pretty relevant story for 2017. The United States is entering a period where the powers that be are taking on a more isolationist, exclusive approach to foreign policy. Just today, "President" Trump signed an executive order suspending admission of nationals from "terror-prone" countries to the United States. One of those countries is Syria, which means we can't admit refugees fleeing from their own government.

Many citizens, including practicing Christians, see this as a positive. A way to protect our lives and liberties. But what's interesting is that during centuries past, including the time period in this film, Christians traveled the world spreading the gospel. Even when they we're welcome by the powers that be.

So, on one level, Silence is, as a friend of mine put it, an "anti-colonialist piece". It challenges the narrative that white people from Europe saved and civilized people in foreign countries. Although Fathers Ferreria (Liam Neeson), Garupe (Adam Driver), and Rodrigues (Andrew Garfield), do in fact have very devout Japanese followers and are ecstatic when Garupe and Rodrigues show up (to find Ferreria, who, rumor has it, apostatized and lives "as a Japanese" now), their leaders are determined to wipe Christianity out of Japan. During many conversations between Rodrigues and Head Inquisitor Inoue (Issei Ogata), the gentle-seeming old man with a heart of iron explains that Christianity is a barren tree which can bear no fruit in Japan. Rodrigues argues that this is because the leaders of Japan have forcibly ripped Christianity up by the roots.

Who is right? Perhaps both men. As an individual with a Western mindset, I tended to air on the side of the priests who, with their own eyes, see the gratefulness of the rural poor Japanese who have found solace in their new religion. In my mind, I'm like "they clearly want this religion in their lives. Who are the leaders to force them to abandon it?". But that's an American, individualistic mindset.

The film remains coy about which culture's side it takes, though the final scene gives a hint as to where director Scorsese's heart lies. But the point of this film isn't whether Christianity or Buddhism "wins", it's to explore the complexities faith and culture.

In addition to the film's meditations on colonialism and proselytization, Silence also asks Christians difficult questions about what it means to have faith and be merciful. Young, arrogant Fathers Rodrigues and Garupe enter Japan fearful, but fully willing to be tortured and die for their faith. Inquisitor Inoue is onto this, and so he raises the stakes of the game: he will torture other people--innocents taken from their homes, and who have already renounced Christianity--until the Fathers apostatize. It's diabolical--and it's very smart. Inoue knows that Japanese Christians are already willing to die for their faith, but if they see a priest--a man close to God--deny HIS faith, they are more likely to give up this foreign religion.

Spoilers below:

Two scenes show what happens when Garupe and Rodrigues are put to the test. When Garupe refuses to trample (place his foot on) the fumie (a plaque with an image of Jesus or Mary on it), Japanese converts who have already renounced Christianity are drowned in the sea--and Garupe follows, desperately trying to save them and drowning himself in the process.

Later, after countless conversations with Inoue, Rodrigues finally meets Fererria, who has indeed renounced his faith (to save suffering converts) and has taken a Japanese wife and works for Inoue now. Rodrigues is outraged, but when he is faced with a group of converts suffering a torture known as "the pit", in which slits are made behind their ears and they are bound upside down so that they slowly bleed out, Rodrigues is forced to make a choice: trample the fumie or let these people suffer for days until they die. It's not fair, but it's the choice he's given. As Fererria tells him, "You are about to commit the most painful act of love".

The title Silence refers to Rodrigues' (portrayed with an intensity and soulfulness by Garfield) relationship to God. He is on fire with faith, but as he sees more and more suffering and prays harder and harder, he begins to feel an overwhelming sense of aloneness. "Am I praying to silence?" he asks. It is only when he is about the trample the fumie that God finally breaks the silence, saying (and I'm quoting from the novel the film is based on because I couldn't find an accurate quote from the film):

You may trample. You may trample. I more than anyone know of the pain in your foot. You may trample. It was to be trampled on by men that I was born into this world. It was to share men's pain that I carried my cross.

Now, I'm not the most religious person in the world, but that hit me right in the feels. THAT is Christianity. No judgement. No condemnation for failing to "follow the rules". Simply peace and love that passes understanding from our Wonderful Counselor.  

That our human suffering might, in fact, be meaningless. That martyrdom might, in fact, be an act of supreme arrogance. That the best evangelism might be mercy and understanding, not conversion. This is a hard pill for many Christians to swallow because it's saying "You aren't in control. You don't decide. And your attempts to bend others' faith to your will is wrong."

I feel that this message is something Christians in America need to hear now more than ever. Hell, it's something I needed to hear, because my faith has always been an angry, tenuous faith. Y'all, I tend to loathe other Christians (not all, I have some amazing, truly loving Christian friends and family members). I look at them and I see a selectiveness. A willingness to bend the rules for their own sake, but not for others (people who have sex outside of marriage but are against gay marriage, for example). I see massive amounts of condescension ("Oh, I'll pray for you." No thanks! I don't want your passive-aggressive, masturbatory prayer!).

But all those things I see in others (and the anger and cynicism I see in myself), are simply the human condition. Humans aren't good, and they certainly aren't perfect. They're self-serving and fearful: just look at who we elected. Our own cowardice (even those who didn't vote for Pussy Grabber in Chief) brought us to this. We are only human.

So, to avoid going off the rails here, Silence is a compelling film on a philosophical and theological level. It's bound to piss people off, just as Scorsese's earlier film, The Last Temptation of Christ, caused boycotts and riots. Interestingly, both films portray--to greater or lesser extents--Christ as human. In Last Temptation, Christ is tempted by the promise of a normal life. In Silence he whispers to Rodrigues that He was born to earth to understand man's suffering. How radical, making the divine just like us--weak, fearful, small--so that He can love us all the more.

There seem to be two lines of thought regarding Christianity that I see playing out these days: the tough love, letter of the law attitude. "We can't celebrate or normalize sin!" they cry (as they sin). "I have the real truth!" they crow, smug in their knowledge that they'll be saved while those who disagree will burn.

And then there are the people who are willing to admit they they don't have all the answers. That look upon their own sin first. That believe it's more important to be kind than to be right. I like to aim for this second version, on the occasions I feel compelled to have faith (which I don't always have), though I often fail. And I know which side Silence takes.

Grade: B

2016: The Best and the Rest

Movies: Best Of

Well, I'm getting my "Best Of" list in a bit early this year. Usually I wait until about mid-January in order to make sure I've seen everything I want to see. On the other hand, there's nearly always at least one movie I know would make the list but takes its sweet ol' time making it to a theater near me. This year, that movie is Martin Scorsese's Silence, which I'm sure will be as devastating and amazing as its previews promise. Additionally, there are several films either still in theaters (Loving) or available to rent (American Honey, Midnight Special), that have made many critics' best of lists...but I'm not feeling super motivated to watch them at the moment.

I tend to follow my own timeline with many things in life, including updating this blog! So, with that said, here are my favorite movies of 2016:

***

10. Jackie

A somber, verging on creepy, portrait of one of the most glamorous, dignified FLOTUSes ever to walk the rooms of the 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Jackie follows the eponymous first lady in the days following her husband's brutal assassination. Director Pablo Larrain uses intense close-ups of Natalie Portman's face, as well as a nauseatingly creepy musical score, to unsettle the audience and capture the grief of Jackie Kennedy as she dealt with the death of her spouse who was also the leader of the free world. Jackie is the anti-popcorn flick (although I did eat popcorn while I watched it): unnerving, emotionally intense, and introspective. But movie buffs and history buffs will find it worth their while.

9. Deadpool

Ok, now here's your popcorn flick! And what a popcorn flick it is! Deadpool is an irreverent, "hard-R", fiercely funny addition to the Marvel canon. As someone who finds superhero movies either 1) boring or 2) tolerable, Deadpool is the superhero movie I've been waiting for. Finally, a superhero movie that understands my need for jokes about pegging and face-sitting! And underneath Deadpool's (played with panache by Ryan Reynolds) barrage of snark, fourth-wall breaking, and flirtations with all genders, races, and creeds, is a sweet love story and, weirdly, a message about beauty and body image. It also contains my favorite line of the year:

"With a brief adjustment period, and a lot of drinks, it's a face I'd be happy to sit on."

Now that's love, people.

8. The Invitation

Although you can easily guess how this movie, about a man who attends a party at his ex-wife's home, ends, The Invitation manages to keep the tension high until the explosive climax. Directed by Kayrn Kusama and starring a cast of mostly unknowns (with John Carrol Lynch as the exception--he's always up to play a weirdo!), The Invitation is everything I love in a movie: independent, psychologically disturbing, with just a touch of camp to add flavor. It's just so fun to watch and the final image will haunt you.

7. Don't Think Twice

I think one of the best things about Don't Think Twice is director and star Mike Birbiglia's willingness to look at the culture of improv comedy (and this could be applied to any hobby or community) and say, "these people are both great, and also a little bit up their own asses". Capturing that sweet spot between group of friends who support each other and echo chamber/slightly cultish, Birbiglia dives into The Commune, a group of improv performers whose members dream of making it big someday.

Each character is lovingly rendered. There's Birbiglia's Miles, a 35 year old who lives in a shitty apartment, sleeps with his improv students (don't worry--they're [barely] of legal age!), and knows--even though he won't admit it--that The Commune is as far as he's gonna get in the comedy world. There's Jack, played to perfection by Keegan-Michael Key, as a showboating, stage-hogging funny guy who actually gets a shot at real fame. There's Gillian Jacobs' sweet Sam, who feels pressure to also want fame although, truth be told, she's happy settling for less. By the end of the movie, you'll have run the gamut from thinking these characters are barfingly annoying to wanting to hug them and have a beer with them. To me, that's the true measure of success in a film: do the characters feel like real people, warts and all? In Don't Think Twice, they absolutely do.

6. Nocturnal Animals

Nocturnal Animals contains the most tense, nail-biting, breath-holding, pillow-grabbing sequence in a movie I saw this year. This sequence happens in almost real time and contains some of the darkest fears--gendered fears, in fact--we dare think about. A man is unable to protect his wife and daughter. In our culture, a man who can't protect his women is not a man at all (I'm not saying I agree with this, I'm just saying it's a thing a lot of people believe). And as a woman watching the scene, it tapped into the horrors I, and many women, think about so often that it's nearly white noise: being overpowered by men who definitely plan on hurting you.

Nocturnal Animals, directed by Tom Ford, didn't get the best reviews, but its story-within-a-story grabbed me in a way so many other films this year did not. The inner story is better than the framing story, which is about a wealthy but unfulfilled woman (Amy Adams) thinking back to her first marriage after receiving a manuscript (the plot of which is the inner story) from her ex. But even the framing story is intriguing--it's more about emotional violence than physical violence. Nocturnal Animals, like life itself, doesn't have a tidy resolution and is filled with both beauty and regret.

5. Green Room

Like The Invitation and Nocturnal Animals, Jeremy Saulnier's tight, violent thriller got my heart beating and my blood pumping. Set in a dive bar in a remote part of Oregon, the film follows punk band the Ain't Rights as they fall prey to a group of neo-Nazis who own the place. After witnessing a murder in the titular green room, the band is held captive by the jack-booted thugs and their disturbingly polite boss, played by the silver-tongued Patrick Stewart.

Green Room wasn't trying to make a political statement--it's merely sick entertainment for the likes of me and other viewers who want to see a dog rip a guy's throat out--but, whoa, times have changed since I saw it in May, and with a racist dickhead (there really is no slur or insult strong enough to accurately convey my feelings about the vile, orange vomit bag that is Trump) and his cronies--some of whom might actually be Nazis--about the overtake the White House, Green Room is all the more terrifying and relevant.

4. La La Land

And now, something for you freaks who don't want rape, murder-suicide, and Nazis in your movies. Damien Chazelle's La La Land will transport you to the dream world you desire, filled with spontaneous outbreaks of song and perfect choreography to go with it. A loving tribute to Hollywood musicals of old, La La Land is dazzling, its stars beautiful (well, one of them at least. Emma Stone is legitimately looking a little strange these days), its songs original, and its story romantic.

La La Land takes place in a world where if you work hard enough your dreams will actually come true. It's a world in which a window always opens when a door shuts. It's a fantasy where even if you don't get everything you've ever desired, you still get so, so much. It's also in the number one slot for many critics and viewers favorite films of 2016--precisely, I think, because it is the antithesis of 2016 and everything this fucked, wretched year represents. In fact, it was a little too optimistic for me. But still, it deserves a place of honor for having the balls to believe in a better tomorrow. And for that fabulous observatory dance sequence.

3. Moonlight

Moonlight is a gentle film about a type of person the world doesn't treat gently: poor, black, gay men. Even the film's harshest moments have an air of dignity and grace, such as when young Chiron is screamed at by his crack-addicted mother--a mother who, for all her weaknesses, never stops loving the boy.

Moonlight drops in on Chiron three times: when he's a scrawny, timid 9 year old, nicknamed "Little"; when he's a gangly, introverted teenager beginning to explore his forbidden sexuality; and as a jacked up adult, rich from selling drugs, but still reticent and even timid, as he visits an old friend. Director Barry Jenkins takes all the notable things about Chiron: his blackness, his sexuality, and his relationship to drugs, and...doesn't dwell on them in the least. He refuses to wholly define Chiron by any of these things and, instead, says to the audience: look upon this human; in him I am well pleased. Indeed, if there is a god in any of the films I've reviewed here, He/She is in Moonlight, which sees the value in humanity even when that humanity is small, scared, angry, and weak.

Set in Miami, Moonlight is as languid, warm, and sensuous as the salty sea and air. It has neither the nihilism of a film like Nocturnal Animals, nor the blind optimism of La La Land: instead, it falls squarely into a state of grace.

2. Manchester By the Sea

And speaking of grace, Kenneth Lonergan's opus of daily life is practically Biblical in it's exploration of loss and forgiveness. It's actually quite similar to Moonlight, only colder (set in Massachusetts, not Miami) and whiter (snow; white people). But, like Moonlight, it's themes  touch on humanity, grace, family, and love. Hell, it even uses selections from Handel's Messiah as background music.

Before you throw Manchester By the Sea into the rubbish bin of overwrought dramas, let me say this: the film is scary good. It's about a man who has to return to his hometown after his brother passes away and finds out he is now officially the guardian of his 16 year old nephew. But Lee (played by Casey Affleck) doesn't want to be this kid's guardian and doesn't want to move back to his hometown because his past there is deeply tragic. Despite the tragic backstory, Lonergan isn't interested in force-feeding emotions to the audience. If anything, Manchester doesn't get enough press on how funny it is--it could easily be classified as a "dramedy". And I think the film's humor and subtle, yet deeply felt emotions, are its saving grace: it feels lived in and real. Some people go to the movies to escape, and Manchester isn't for them. Manchester is a film that seeks to hold up a mirror to our own lives and the dramas, small and large, in them.

1. The Lobster

While there were many excellent films released in 2016, none of them hold a candle to The Lobster for sheer creativity and world-building. When I saw Yorgos Lanthimos' film, which takes place in a world in which being single is outlawed and all singles have 45 days to find a mate or they are turned into an animal of their choosing, I knew it would be my favorite of 2016. Perhaps that became a self-fulfilling prophecy, but so what? The film deserves it.

The Lobster has moments of incredible darkness and violence. If you're an animal lover, for the love of Marmaduke, do not see this film. Animals die in the movie and, in one scene, they die horrifically. But it makes sense in a film where people become animals for animals to die/be murdered. I think what I admired most about The Lobster was that Lanthimos committed 100% to this dark, strange world he created. He pulls no punches.

But even though it's dark (and darkly funny, I'll add), the film is also a love story between sad-eyed David (played by Colin Farrell, who "uglies up" for the movie, meaning he looks cute and attractive instead of insanely hot like he usually is) and "The Near-Sighted Woman" played by Rachel Weisz. Their love is unusual--it's the Wes Anderson version of love, filled with deadpan humor and bizarre rituals. But it's love made all the more passionate and intense given that it is forbidden (Weisz is part of a group out chaste, single outlaws, who are forbidden to have relationships).

The Lobster, like my favorite film of 2015, The Duke of Burgundy, is strange and unique. But that's exactly what makes it #1 in my book--it's a film that won't speak to a lot of people, but it speaks to me.

***

Worst movie of the year:

Swiss Army Man

Swiss Army Man, also known as the "Daniel Radcliffe plays a farting corpse" movie, is also quite unique. I have to give credit where credit is due: this movie is fucking weird and has about the biggest balls on it of any movie I saw this year. But, sadly, it is also unfocused, twee, trite, and ultimately an embarrassment. I have no idea how the directors, "The Dans" (Dan Kwan and Dan Scheinert) got this film made and released into theaters. I suppose I could say the same about The Lobster, which has an equally bizarre plot. But the difference is that The Lobster has a coherent plot and also a point to it. Swiss Army Man seems to have kind of a plot, but the ending is just a goddamn mess. And I have no idea what the point or message was because it's just all over the place. My feeling after having watched it was that I was being laughed at by the directors.

Are there worse films than Swiss Army Man? Of course. The worst sin a film can commit, in my opinion, is to be boring (and as someone who watches 3-hour long subtitled dramas, I have a high threshold for boring). Swiss Army Man is a lot of things, but it ain't boring. However, considering that I don't see every film released each year, Swiss Army Man is about as low as it can get for me.

***

Thank you all for reading! Onward to 2017!