by Anonymous Logician, Copyright April 01, 2007, all rights reserved.
There's something irresistibly manly about a battle to the death against numberless foes. And that element is a key part of the hype surrounding 300, the Frank Miller graphic novel currently racking up numbers on the big screen. Miller's story draws on the historic Battle of Thermopylae, during which 300 Spartan warriors defended a narrow pass against the hordes of Persian emperor Xerxes. The Spartans perished but bought time for the Greek city-states to rally their own armies and rebuff Xerxes' imperial designs.
In fairness to Miller and director Zack Snyder, 300 succeeds as far as its claims as a war movie. The fight sequences are spectacular, choreographing the bloodshed of hand-to-hand combat in beautiful brutality. Not bad either is the film's glorification of manhood. These Spartans are strangers to our age of the sensitive metrosexual; they look like they stepped out of a Bowflex commercial and speak of values you'll never find in a Guess catalog.
Too, Spartan king Leonidas has a few sharp lines that demonstrate his ability to really hack a tyrant off. When Xerxes suggests that their respective cultures have much to share, Leonidas–in actor Gerard Butler's Scottish brogue–replies that he and his men have been sharing their culture with him all morning. Later in their parley the Persian king offers Leonidas wealth and glory if Leonidas will only kneel before him. Leonidas answers that the cramp in his leg (from killing so many Persians) makes kneeling kind of difficult.
That said, 300 ultimately falls short for two reasons. The first is artistic, and is best summed up by one critic's words on another film. That critic described the movie he was reviewing as "a series of fight sequences looking for a story." 300 fits this bill. Snyder's vision fails to satisfy because there's nothing behind the slow-motion blood globules and severed limbs. The melodramatic narration voiced throughout the film is embarrassingly bad, and even Butler's pre-battle speeches inspire little confidence. In short, the script reads as though the producers had discovered in the last week of filming that 300 was supposed to be a talkie. Nor does characterization do much for us. We never really get to know the men who are giving their lives for our entertainment, and we never really care. Finally, Lena Headey (cast as Queen Gorgo) does what she can with a lame script, but can't save the sub-plot that takes place back in Sparta.
300's second flaw is philosophical. While the movie makes much of the concept of freedom–Leonidas' wife urges him to consider what "a free man would do" and reminds him that "freedom isn't free"–Miller's story cuts the legs out from under real liberty by glossing over the statism of Sparta herself. Sparta, remember, was a city-state in which all males were forced to be soldiers and conditioned for war by immersion in habitual brutality. Family and parental ties meant little, as children were basically considered community property. And this property had better not be deformed–Miller himself reminds us that imperfect infants were "discarded" as unfit for Sparta.
These points constitute what Tomas Engle in his review calls the " 'inconvenient truths' of blood-thirsty Spartan society that don't appease National Greatness Conservatives." In such a state-centered worldview, God, family, and individual rights don't rank very high. So while it's fine that Leonidas and his men stood against the imperial tyranny of Xerxes, they weren't exactly Patrick Henry.
Given 300's lack of basic dialogue and characterization, you'll probably be looking for something better. And if an epic story of sword-swinging, Scotch-tongued warriors is up your alley, just save your money and buy Braveheart.
Posted in Music & Film • 4 Comments • Permalink • 762 views
by Anonymous Logician, Copyright March 26, 2007, all rights reserved.
Spring is here, and Maryland is rending its white graveclothes and rolling away its stone. And as I think about that metaphor, it strikes me that resurrection really is a fit image for spring. Not only is this the time during which Christ the Victor is celebrated, but the season itself is an example of new life. Grass is once again green; naked limbs begin to shoot out buds; the earth is back from the dead.
As James Stewart points out, the resurrection was the triumphal core of the apostles' revolutionary message, and it's as though God stamped the idea of rebirth on the creation herself. The seasons reflect new life because Christ's resurrection really does renew the earth. Stewart explains just what this means:
In this cosmic event, as Paul saw and proclaimed, God was doing something comparable only with what He had done at the first creation. This was the beginning of a new era for the universe, the decisive turning-point for the human race. . . . The Resurrection meant that the world had died in the night and had been reborn. (A Faith to Proclaim, p. 106)
Paul says that the whole creation is groaning, waiting for this rebirth to take final effect. But how do we know it will happen? How do we know history will ever turn out right? How can we, witnessing the Holocaust and the atomic bomb, or living in our turbulent era of terrorism and statism, think that peace would ever dwell on this shattered planet? The resurrection is not only the promise. It's the proof. Again, Stewart:
It took the Resurrection to give the proof that human history could never give. But that proof the Resurrection once for all proclaimed: so that now, in civilization's darkest hours, we can still say, "The darkness is not dark with Thee, but the night is clear as the day." (p 125)
Posted in Theology & Philosophy • 2 Comments • Permalink • 559 views
by Anonymous Logician, Copyright March 18, 2007, all rights reserved.
Can a movie set in the past and glorifying Christian protagonists be relevant and entertaining to modern audiences? That's exactly what Amazing Grace, starring Ioan Gruffudd as British abolitionist William Wilberforce, sets out to do.
And in large measure it succeeds. Amazing Grace is daring. It tells the story of a famous Christian statesman whose faith directly impacted his politics and the world. Further, the film relies on the tension of its struggle and an inspirational climax to capture viewers–without high-octane action or steamy sex scenes. For a movie opening in the shadow of the Spartan war epic 300, those are significant hurdles.
Director Michael Apted overcomes these obstacles by using flashbacks to carry us between the present and Wilberforce's original attempt to ban the slave trade over a decade earlier, keeping the story fairly well-paced. Further, Gruffudd's job as Wilberforce is excellent, supported nicely by Albert Finney as the aging John Newton. Some memorable bits of dialogue stand out as well, such as when William Pitt tells Wilberforce that as his prime minister, he must urge caution. What, asks Wilberforce, does Pitt say as a friend? "Oh, to hell with caution," Pitt answers.
Another plus is writer Steven Knight's refusal to edit out the Christian framework that supported Wilberforce's fight. In the current scene, which blends all absolute values into a lukewarm political oatmeal, the temptation must have been strong. Wilberforce could have been cast as a vague idealist who preached a bland human brotherhood and mushy sentimentalism. Instead, Knight gives us an imperfect but solid Christian who wrestles with the world as he sees it and how he knows it ought to be.
Yet this idealism is tempered with the realities of politics. When Wilberforce is converted to the faith of his youth, he's torn between politics and the ministry. A pietistic specter hovers over the film until Wilberforce realizes that the work of God and the work of statecraft can be accomplished together.
All this isn't to say that Amazing Grace is without flaws. Its length was one drawback–despite Apted's handling, the story did get bogged down in a few places. And though Gruffudd himself was superb, some awkward acting haunted the movie, as did a few stuffy scenes that made the film seem at times like a BBC remake of some famous novel. Too, more screentime should have been given to Wilberforce's conversion; since his faith clearly drove his political efforts, we need to understand more about this man and how he came by his strong convictions.
Like Newton and Wilberforce themselves, Amazing Grace isn't perfect, but it breaks the modern film mold and tells a great story.
Isn't that a sweet sound?
Posted in Music & Film • 1 Comments • Permalink • 938 views
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