INCEPTION: Dream a little Dreamscape of Me…

July 23rd, 2010

In 1984, a scary movie debuted called A Nightmare on Elm Street, birthing a scarred maniac who would lead a genre with a killer franchise for years to come. A lesser known thriller starring Dennis Quaid would make a relatively forgettable debut, though Dreamscape marked one of the first few films with a PG-13 rating and offered plot elements that were suspiciously familiar, slanted with a scientific versus supernatural bent. 26 years later, Hollywood doubles down again, seeking to reboot the Elm Street franchise while director Christopher Nolan offers us the more science-minded Inception. This time, it’s Freddy who is fairly forgettable, while Nolan’s dreamscape is a fascinating cerebral spin for a director who has yet to disappoint me.

Of course, Inception relies heavily on what the viewer does not know, so it’s difficult to review without spoilers. I believe this first video review walks that tightrope pretty well, dealing with the ideas and framework instead of plot points to prime thoughtful viewing. Subjective perception has permeated the wealth of this director’s films, and Nolan punctuates a body of cinematic work with thoughts on subjectivity and an idea virus that paradoxically speaks to both sin and the gospel.

I even threw in a subtle visual nod to a device used similarly in the film, but you’d have to be bored or insane to figure that out (and somebody out there just took that as a challenge).

Christopher Nolan’s greatest feat, in my mind, is making me like Leonardo DiCaprio. I’ve never been a fan, but after enjoying Gangs of New York despite him, tolerating him in The Departed, and begrudingly accepting him in Shutter Island, Nolan’s superlative direction of this film made Leo shine. Mr. DiCaprio, I’m going to repent for years of calling you DiCrapio and finally forgive you for Titanic. That is, unless this is all a dream… or a dream within a dream…

Next week we’ll dive layer by layer down into Nolan’s jarring mental exploration and see if we can extract some curious truths from the subtext. Each one will contain increasing spoilers, so you may want to leave subsequent reviews in the safe until you’ve seen the film.

A SHINING Overlook with Stanley

July 13th, 2010

My wife and I took a road trip from Seattle to Colorado and up into Wyoming to attend a conference and see Yellowstone National Park. With a rented Mustang convertible and over 9 hours of classic rock inspired by the television show Supernatural courtesy of our friend Dean (not THAT Dean), we found a cinema inspired stop along the way that hearkens back to a classic 1980 Kubrick movie, a 1997 miniseries, and – naturally – the Stephen King novel that inspired both.

The stately Stanley Hotel in Colorado was an inspiration for King’s memorable fiction, which the stately Stanley Kubrick would adapt into the frightful film with Jack Nicholson. The later miniseries of the same name, starring Steven Weber, boasts the actual hotel as a shooting location and the interiors indeed evoked memories as Kat and I explored the allegedly ghostly lodgings. We had drinks at the bar, took the ghost tour, and wandered the exterior at night, but for better or worse experienced nothing abnormal except a a few odd dreams. Maybe we should have stayed in room 217…

The hotel boasts a channel that plays the Kubrick film 24 hours a day, and I found myself revisiting the theatrical haunt that morning and musing on it’s plot, particularly the central character of Jack Torrance. From a Cinemagogue perspective, this film is a classic case of identity crisis which runs far deeper than the depths of psychology. While a simple synopsis might suggest that “a recovering alcoholic, aspiring writer becomes a hotel caretaker and – provoked by the spirits of the hotel – begins to deteriorate and break down mentally” the three insufficient sources of identity inherent make for scintillating conversation, especially when you consider the three different sources that reinforce those affiliations.

Jack has poured his identity into being a writer, and the inability to write is a major influence on his identity crisis. He’s also chafing at the identity the world has given him – alcoholic. While he’s guilty of drunkenness and abuse, the label does nothing but further frustrate him in wrestling with who he is. Finally, the dark, devilish forces of the hotel offer him a new identity. “You’ve always been the caretaker,” the ghoulish Grady speaks, offering Jack more than a self-appointed persona or the world’s pigeonholing stigma; they offer him an eternal identity which is undeniably appealing.

It’s fascinating yet simple to me that Jack loses his mind, torn between identities given to him by his own aspirations, the world’s label, and a supernatural offer. The common Christian prayer – against “the world, the flesh, and the devil” is rarely demonstrated so simply. Like everyone, Jack is seeking identity, but his spiritual ship is wrecked on the rocks due to his own course heading, false maps, and a beguiling siren song. The film certainly never suggests where true identity comes from (realizing we are image-bearers of our Creator – “for in Him we live and move and have our being” – and called to seek identity in Christ the perfect image-bearer) but the cursed trifecta of flesh, world and devil is illustrated quite succinctly through Torrance’s torments.

The Kubrick film is unquestionably superior in tone and cinematography, but the 1997 mini-series, shot at the actual hotel, should not be overlooked. In classic 90s miniseries style it’s a bit padded, but boasts quality acting, a gorgeous locale, (no nudity) and a story more faithful to King’s original novel. Torrance begins on a more even keel (my wife complains Nicholson is crazy from Act 1); Weber’s descent is thus more pronounced, and different decisions at the end also dramatically impact thoughts on damnation and redemption. On a long, wintery weekend night, it’s worth the narrative journey.

The story deals with ESP, lingering spirits, and other elements I’m not suggesting fit a real-world view of how our existence is ordered, but the internal struggle of Jack and his spiral into madness is a poignant portrait of an understandable downward arc when one has no tether to our true, shared, objective identity. As our trip continued from the hotel, witnessing the age-old geological features of Yellowstone and imminent lightning storms over Wyoming countryside, I thank God a shining light lifted me out of that confusing miasma years ago, and that every aspect of life can wonder and astonish me instead of terrify.

But for the grace of God, I am Jack Torrance.

The APOCALYPSE of Film & Theology

July 12th, 2010

Are you anywhere near Seattle? You’re welcome to join us Friday in NE Seattle for a viewing of The Book of Eli in its entirety, followed by exposition and discussion. In fact, no matter where you are, you can start walking “west” like Eli and make it a cross-country journey to join us for the apocalyptic event.

Details for the Event and RSVP are available here.

Attendees are also invited to dress in their favorite post-apocalyptic garb, whether it’s sporting some Fallout 3 gear or Mad Max inspired leathers, cyperpunk attire or steampunk fashion, anything from Trigun to Solarbabies, express yourself and we’ll have a prize for the best world-ending outfit. However, boys are not allowed to bring their dogs.

In addition to Cinemagogue, I’ve been lovingly provided with a space to do monthly film events for many years. “Film & Theology” has allowed us to host movie events and speak about the narrative themes and reasons for engaging narrative that Cinemagogue is all about, live and with a mixed audience of backgrounds and worldviews, and we’ve been able to post the audio from those post-film talks. In truth, this format is what gave birth to this website and the resources and teaching that has culminated in over a decade of study and practice. However, as this facility is shifting owners we’re going to close up shop on Film & Theology for the summer and, God willing, seek a new way to reboot it in the fall.

In other words, it’s not just an apocalyptic movie but potentially the end of this tradition in its current form, which has run monthly for years. It may not be as devastating as a post-nuclear landscape, but hopefully you’ll join us as we usher in the end of the Film & Theology world.