Seeing with a "Double-Vision"
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FILM PICS to foster dialogue between |
How does one go about unpacking a movie in a way that is authentic to both the movie and our faith? Some in the church have taken solely an instrumental approach, seeking to mine film ethically or educationally for what it might offer – (un)truths about life, a means of understanding problems in our culture, perhaps even an illustration of our own beliefs’ chance to work on us. Thus increasingly we meet only ourselves.
In several of our books – particularly Finding God in the Movies and Reel Spirituality – we have suggested an alternate approach. The very titles of these books reflect our belief that movies have a spiritual capacity that invites our attention Movies provide us the occasion to get outside ourselves – for our spirits to encounter others and perhaps the Other. For a movie to affect us spiritually, for its power and meaning to touch our lives, for it to correct our provincialism and heal our isolation (what all the arts do at their best), we must first open ourselves to its story on its own terms. We must, to borrow a term from the church’s reading of Scripture, be open to the literal (not “literalistic”) sense of the movie “text.”
But to stay with the analogy of biblical interpretation, there is also possible a spiritual reading of film. Medieval readers of the Bible, for example, sought to “know” God – literally, faithfully, lovingly, hopefully. Not just information about God, their goal was to experience the sacred text “from the inside out,” receiving God’s revelation “formatively within us.” (The phrase is Mark Burrows who teaches the history of Christianity at Andover-Newton Seminary.) Even in their spiritualizing, however, these theologians did not believe they were “importing meaning into a biblical text.” Instead, they were uncovering meaning already present.
When we read the parable of the Good Samaritan, for example, it is not only the story of a robbery and beating, but a story about the need for us as readers to reach out to the “other” in our midst. In a similar way, we need to approach film with a “double vision” – our interpretation must be at one and the same time literal and spiritual, showing a concern not only for what a movie might be “saying,” but also with what it might be “meaning” to the viewer. We need to rediscover a manner of listening – or attention – that allows us to incorporate what we see into our own experience holistically. For those who have eyes to see and ears to hear, there is often hidden beneath the movie story’s surface a resonance of meaning with our stories.
For an example, let us consider the movie Titanic (1997), the highest grossing movie of all time worldwide. Many have dismissed the movie as “popcorn” fare. But it is more than this. Titanic functions simultaneously on several levels. It is, of course, a “disaster” movie “about” the sinking of the Titanic (the third most written about historical event in the twentieth century). The filmmakers, particularly the artistic directors and set designers, were meticulous in creating an exact replica of the ship, right down to the wall paper and china in the ship’s dining room. The movie is also a love story between Jack and Rose. It is an old fashioned “romance” in which the commoner sweeps the society girl off her feet, helping her escape from her privileged but narrowly constricted world into a life of adventure and fulfillment.
Yet, Titanic is also a “message” movie portraying how two people overcome class differentiation. It depicts an ethically better way in which the “upstairs/downstairs” dichotomy of British society is rejected. We as viewers are appalled as those in the third class cabins are allowed to drown, while those in first class are helped into lifeboats. And lastly, the movie’s story is mythically shaped around a Christ-figure, an “innocent” Jack sacrificing his life that Rose might live. As the movie closes, Rose finishes her telling of the story by saying, “He saved me in every way that a person can be saved.”
As viewers watch the movie, Rose’s story also becomes our own story (here is why so many viewers returned for multiple viewings). The compelling power of Rose’s affection allows us to reach out similarly in trust, to seek in community our true humanity, and to help bring into reality a new spirit of possibility for women. The film on another level encourages us to fight prejudice, to oppose materialism, and to recognize hubris. And ultimately, in the sacrificial love of Jack, we discover the shape of our own salvation, as well. As the movie ends, we see Rose drop the large diamond she had long ago been given into the ocean where Jack lies below. He has given her life in its fullness; she needs no additional crutch or guarantee. Jack’s is a love that has transcended all limitation, even death.
The real success of the movie Titanic derives from its ability to open up organically to such a thick viewing – one that points outward in faith, love, and hope beyond its story line to the reality of something that transcends our finitude. It has allowed many to journey on what Michel de Certeau has called “an itinerary…that is the meaning of experience.”
Cathy Barsotti is an instructor for Centro Hispano de Estudios Teologicos - a Latino Ministry training center in southeast Los Angeles.
Rob Johnston is Professor of Theology and Culture at Fuller Theological Seminary. His books include Useless Beauty (Baker, 2005), Finding God in the Movies (Baker, 2004, co-written with Cathy), Reel Spirituality (Baker, 2000) and Life Is Not Work/Work Is Not Life; Simple Reminders for Finding Balance in a 24/7 World (Wildcat Canyon, 2001). Their reviews can also be seen in The Covenant Companion.