Pieta opens on a quick scene of a most unusual suicide followed by a woman’s terrified scream. It then cuts to a scene of a young man, Lee Kan-do (Lee Jeong-jin), masturbating in bed. He receives a text message, a picture of another man. He pays a visit to this man, and we quickly learn that Kang-do is the muscle behind a small-time loan shark. Needy small business owners borrow money at extreme interest, and when they cannot pay up, Kang-do “cripples” them and takes the payout from an insurance policy they signed upon agreeing to the loan. He is good at his job, which means he is unforgiving, quiet, and ruthless.

Things go smoothly for Kang-do until a mysterious woman, Mi-Son (Jo Min-soo) approaches him in an alley and says that she is the mother who abandoned him at birth. She sets about trying to participate in his life as if to make up for lost time. In the process, she defines persistence as she washes his dishes, buys him food, and cooks for him. Kang-do is reluctant to embrace her and verbally and physically abuses her. He eventually puts her through truly nauseating (to the audience) tests to prove her motherhood. When she “passes,” the two reconnect and wander around the city doing normal parent/child things. However, we soon realize that all is not as it seems, and one of Kang-do’s past assignments comes back to terrorize him, repaying the violence that he so mercilessly meted out before.

Writer/director Ki-duk has given audiences, simultaneously, a profoundly political and deeply intimate film. Though the two are closely intertwined, it will suffice to consider them separately. Kang-do is the “muscle” for a loan shark who provides money for small business owners attempting to make it on their own in the face of a surging wave of capitalism and urban expansion. High rises are fast approaching the slums. These small business will not only be literally crippled by Kang-do, but they will ultimately be leveled and displaced by the larger corporations that lay waste to their storage-shed operations. Ki-duk seems to be asking us who’s the worse criminal, the invading businesses or the loan shark? At least Kang-do and his employer let the shopkeepers keep their way of life, even if it is more difficult to work after Kang-do pays them a visit.

Mi-Son humbly begs to be a part of Kang-do’s life.

The personal element of Pieta is far more disturbing and challenging. There are troubling sexual and violent images here to be sure, which frustrate the possibility of forgiveness that Ki-duk holds out for Kang-do. There is, at least, a definite visual Christian framework that Ki-duk establishes very early in the film. After Kang-do finishes masturbating in the first scene in which we meet him, Ki-duk cuts to an exterior shot of a store-front church next door that features a cross and a sign that reads, “Hallelujah Forever.” Ki-duk occasionally cuts to this cross throughout the rest of the film, as if reminding readers of the spiritual and theological stakes of the narrative. It might also be a nod to the growing presence of Christianity in the region.

Mi-Son’s presence in Kang-do’s life (SPOILER though ultimately an act of revenge END SPOILER), serves a divine function. She is the catalyst that causes him to reassess his life’s work, that allows him to eventually show mercy to a customers who default on their loans (ANOTHER SPOILER although is would-be victims, for profound reasons, are happy to undertake his work themselves END SPOILER). She might literally be the most haunting “hound of heaven,” we’ve ever seen in film. The relationship between the two, as disturbing as it is, raises a profound question. Reviewing the film for NPR, Keith Phipps asks, “What does it mean to practice virtue in the service of a faith that can never be verified — one that might even be misplaced?”

Writer/director Ki-duk suggests that, as violent as he may be, Kang-do might not be beyond forgiveness.

It takes a real talent to balance the disturbing and offensive with the tender and sweet, but Ki-duk pulls it off brilliantly. Ki-duk shows masterful restraint with violence, forcing us to imagine what takes place rather than showing us. The cinematography helps add balance the grotesque with the beautiful. It’s hard to think of two other actors doing a better job than Lee Jeong-jin and Jo Min-soo, who themselves are not only beautiful people but capture the subtleties of each charter in ways that add layers to what could have easily just been another revenge fantasy. At the end, Ki-duk leaves us with as haunting (and hopeful?) a conclusion as we’re ever likely to see.

Pieta (104 mins.) contains scenes of gruesome violence and truly disturbing sexuality. It is in limited theatrical release and available to rent or buy on iTunes. Not for the faint of heart.

Like its predecessors, Iron Man 3 hits all the high notes thanks to swift directing, strong writing, and solid performances from all returning cast members like Robert Downey, Jr., Don Cheadle, Jon Favreau, and Gwyneth Paltrow. But it is Sir Ben Kingsley who steals the show as new villain Mandarin. Much like Iron Man 2, this version invokes a would-be co-worker and Stark devotee, Aldrich Killian (Guy Pearce), whom Tony spurned years ago, coming back to haunt him as a competitor and terrorist. SPOILER: The Mandarin is a media front and, as such, a commentary on our need for a devil…and a quirky one at that. END SPOILER What did Osama bin Laden supposedly have stock-piled in his compound? All the while, we ignore or completely miss, the true villain, those media and financial conglomerates who act as global puppeteers to make greater stacks of cash.

Sir Ben Kingsley as Mandarin.

Iron Man 3 is equal parts comic book prophesy (in the sense of humorously exposing the powers that be) and “spiritual commentary.” Tony continues to create monsters through his reckless willingness to step over anyone that gets in his way. His technology is a pandora’s box that will just never close. Of course, with repeated allusions to The Avengers, there are a host of much more powerful villains lurking in the far reaches of outer space that could strike at any moment. If the previous installments of the franchise have Tony in physical danger (and he’s in quite a bit of it here too), he’s at a spiritual and emotional crossroads in this latest film. If shrapnel was gravitating towards his heart in Iron Man 2, anxiety and panic attacks bring him to his knees now and have him seeking out therapy as well, which he humorously finds from an unlikely source.

But for the ascending Iron Man suits in the background, this sums up the state of Tony Stark in the latest film.

Mud

Though less explicitly so, Mud works as a third installment of sorts. Writer/director Jeff Nichols is one of the most talented and consistent filmmakers working today (and word is he’s scheduled to turn these talents to the sic-fi genre soon). Mud follows his two other critically-acclaimed indies, Shotgun Stories and Take Shelter. It helps immensely that Michael Shannon has had roles in all three.

Mud is a coming of age story that focuses on two teenage boys, Ellis (Tye Sheridan) and Neckbone (Jacob Lofland), growing up in a small Arkansas town along the Mississippi River. They find a boat stuck in a tree on an island in the middle of the river and want to claim it as their hideout. Unfortunately, someone, Mud (Matthew McConaughey) has already set up residence there. He’s waiting for his “girlfriend,” Juniper (Reese Witherspoon) to arrive, but we know he’s also on the run from the law. The boys, for competing reasons, agree to help Mud retrieve and repair the boat. Neckbone wants Mud’s pistol, while Ellis wants to assist in reuniting the star-crossed lovers.

Mud (McConaughey) tries to get the girl–and the boat–with the help of Neckbone (Jacob Lofland) and Ellis (Tye Sheridan).

Tye Sheridan as Ellis is the heart of the film, which is all the more impressive in light of phenomenal performances all around. Ellis’ coming-of-age is built around his observations of two relationships and his own first failure at love. His parents, Mary Lee (Sarah Paulson) and Senior (Ray McKinnon), are going through a fairly rough patch in their marriage. Mud and Juniper are trying (unequally) to get back together, and his own high school crush, May Pearl (Bonnie Sturdivant), publicly embarrasses him. Even though it’s emotionally painful to watch fall apart before our eyes, Ellis’ earnest belief in love and soul-mates is inspiring nonetheless.

It’s clear, three feature films in, that Nichols just gets the South. Nothing’s ever cliched in his films, and their production design and cinematography capture remote places with subtle perfection. Nichols consistently explores pockets of the country that may seem other-worldly to many viewers while not letting those surface differences distract from the shared humanity and experiences of its inhabitants. Mud would make great pairing with Beasts of the Southern Wild. I know many people who had difficulty approaching Beasts because the world it presented was so completely foreign, as was the aesthetic of the film. Given the more direct way(s) in which Nichols tells his tory, Mud is a more accessible film, and one that draws viewers in from the start and keeps them close throughout its nerve-wrenching duration. It’ll easily be one of the best films of the year.

Iron Man 3 (130 mins) is rated PG-13 for sequences of intense sci-fi action and violence throughout, and brief suggestive content and is in theaters everywhere.

Mud (130 mins) is rated PG-13 for some violence, sexual references, language, thematic elements and smoking and is in considerably fewer theaters.

Daniel D’Addario of Salon suggests Tebow may be the last mainstream evangelical celebrity. D’Addario points to the overall waning of evangelical influence on the culture at large, even the possibility of an evangelical “recession” as labeled by Rev. John S. Dickerson. Remarkably, Dickerson estimates that the actual number of church-involved, politically/culturally motivated evangelicals may be as low as 7% of the U.S. population.

I’m not even sure Tebow was that great of a model of Christian manliness. Part of what made Tebow’s relative success as quarterback of the Broncos in 2011 so astonishing was precisely that it seemed so miraculous. How could a quarterback play so badly and still win?

D’Addario also asked Dickerson if “he thought, over the past two years, that Tebow’s public prayer and professions of virginity had been helpful or hurtful? Dickerson paused. ‘There’s a passage in Romans, Chapter 14, where the Apostle Paul says that each believer needs to live out the faith of their own convictions. I don’t think it’s my place to judge him.’”

I’ll judge him. There’s another verse I’d like to quote from Matthew 6.5-6: “When you pray, you are not to be like the hypocrites; for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and on the street corners so that they may be seen by men. Truly I say to you, they have their reward in full. But you, when you pray, go into your inner room, close your door and pray to your Father who is in secret, and your Father who sees what is done in secret will reward you.”

Growing up as a Presbyterian, this passage might have outstripped John 3.16 in importance. I was taught that faith was a private matter between me and God, not to be flaunted in public – not out of embarrassment for my faith, but out of humility. My dad once upbraided my smart-ass brother for a junior high musical performance in which he mimed crossing himself before a difficult choral number, to the laughter of the audience. Never mind that making the sign of the cross isn’t part of Presbyterian tradition, some things are just between you and God. Like your cracking pubescent voice or your facility at recorders and Orff instruments.

But the point is, evangelical masculinity can’t get a break in the media anymore. Chris Broussard of ESPN and Tim Brando of CBS couldn’t even express their real opinions about Jason Collins coming out without secular society jumping down their throats and calling for their firing.

I actually don’t think the two men should be in any way officially censured or demoted for what they did. We need to live in a society that tolerates idiots in the name of free expression.

Broussard was asked about Collins’ statement of faith as a Christian and he gave his opinion. His choice to “preach the Gospel” that Collins couldn’t be a Christian because he is gay was self-serving and unprofessional. But I tend to think the religious rantings of a sportscaster will ultimately damage fewer people than the homophobia of actual religious authorities. Like the Pope.

As for Brando, his Tweet wasn’t so much offensive as sad. His exact words (corrected for grammar): “Simply being a Christian white male over 50 that’s raised a family means nothing in today’s culture. The sad truth. Period.”

As Paul Constant of The Stranger noted: “Yes! Finally, after over 200 years as a nation, won’t somebody speak up for the poor, embattled straight Christian white men? Thank God this brave sports reporter has spoken up for the oppressed, voiceless white dude. What a hero he is.”

I actually have sympathy for these poor white dudes (of which I am one, albeit playing for Jason Collins’ “team”). For more than 200 years, the identity of the white, heterosexual Christian man has been caught up in being the default position of power in this country. White people have treated their race and culture not as an identity, but as the identity by which other identities are measured.

This lack of awareness of whiteness as an identity is how a commentator like George Will can claim to be against identity politics, when he is, in fact, one of the primary promoters of white identity politics. (Here’s one of his classic diatribes based on the infamous “wise Latina woman” comment of Justice Sotamayor.)

We are entering a period in American history when European ancestry, Christianity, and heterosexuality will no longer be the assumed default. I suspect that the past 30 years of resurgence of fundamentalist Christianity and right-wing identity politics will be seen in the course of history as a temporary backlash to the radical social changes unleashed in the 1960’s. The kinds of predictions Harvey Cox made in the 60’s in The Secular City, which many in the 1980’s and 90’s thought needed to be revised or discarded, are happening now, three decades late.

At the risk of sounding shocking, white Christian people are going to have to find a way to have “white pride,” by which I mean they’re going to have to create an identity for themselves that isn’t based on dominating everyone else or measuring everyone else by their standard.

But you don’t have to have agree with the views Brando expressed to have sympathy for the process of grief he’s going through. As a white, middle class, Protestant Christian who came out at the age of 23, I understand what it’s like waking up one day and realizing you must fight for your little plot of dignity in the world.

The process is nothing compared to what people of color, immigrants, women, Muslims, Jews, or anyone else not of pallid complexion with a y chromosome has had to go through. But as human beings we all need a little understanding sometimes. Even the soon-to-be-extinct white Christian male.

I greatly appreciated Tree of Life, and you can read mine and Richard’s thoughts on it here. However, I think I was more captivated by To the Wonder. It’s both tempting and frustrating to try to outline all of the themes running through Malick’s latest film, but it will suffice here to say that love both found and lost, grace, hope, and relationships are at the forefront. But to say that it is about these themes is to give the film short shrift because it seems to me that it is Malick’s attempt to visualize them, to have them take life and die before our very eyes rather than having characters rhapsodize or talk about them to one another (and us) as if we had never experienced them ourselves. The characters do talk about these things, but not in any sustained way.

Neil and Jane quickly develop intense feelings that fade just as fast.

To the Wonder will no doubt cause much frustration even among those excited to see it. It is virtually a silent film. The actors rarely ever speak but whisper. It demands re-watching to make sure, but I don’t think two characters in the same shot ever exchanged lines of dialogue with one another. I think there’s something to this stylistic choice that demands further analysis. Of course, films have never been absolutely silent, even when we called them “silents.” Malick’s film isn’t either, and it benefits from stirring classical orchestral works that, along with the mesmerizing cinematography, provide a rapturous viewing experience. In his review of the film, Craig Detweiler refers to the buffalo scene with Ben Affleck and Rachel McAdams as one of the most wondrous in cinema history. I would extend that praise to the entire sequence involving these two actors as a cinematic composition of unparalleled beauty and intrigue.

I realize that I’ve gone on a bout the film without reference to what actually happens in it. This, I think, is both important and not. The themes are portrayed through the interactions of the characters but transcend them as well. As we struggle to understand what transpires between the characters, they also try desperately to understand one another and the emotions they are (or are not) feeling. Essentially, Ben Affleck’s character, Neil, falls in love with Olga Kurylenko‘s character, Marina, in Paris but out of love with her after they move to Oklahoma. Marina returns to France because of an expired VISA, a turn of events that barely registers with the emotionally distant Neil. While Marina is away and the two are apparently separated, Neil falls in love with Jane (McAdams), an Oklahoman cowgirl who inherited a struggling ranch. Somehow, Marina works her way back into Neil’s life, and Neil tells Jane about his past relationship, which effectively ends this new one. Neil and Marina try to give it another go, but Marina ends up leaving again because Neil is never really present to her. There’s also a priest, Father Quintana (Javier Bardem) in the same small town who struggles to live out his half of a relationship with God.

Malick’s visualization of the disconnect between the characters is frequently stunning.

It’s so much more than this, but To the Wonder might be one of the best movies about relationships ever made, especially if we hold in tension (as I believe Malick intends us to do) the “earthly” relationship between Neil and Marina or Jane and the “spiritual” relationship between Father Quintana and God. This might be one of the most compelling portrayals of a minister since Robert Bresson’s Diary of a Country Priest (1951). Roger Ebert wrote about Father Quintana in his very last film review: “Bardem, as a priest far from home, made me realize as never before the loneliness of the unmarried clergy. Wandering in his empty church in the middle of the day, he is a forlorn figure, crying out in prayer and need to commune with his Jesus.” This relationship says so much about devotion, commitment, and sticking it out, even as Father Quintana is eventually relocated to another parish. In the midst of doubts and the absence of feeling, he still ministers to the poor, the addicted, the destitute even as he cannot bring himself to enter some of their homes.

To the Wonder gives very little but evokes so much, from the haunting beauty of Mont Saint-Michel to the wide open, rugged plains of Oklahoma. Detweiler puts it perfectly: “A foreigner can remind us what is marvelous about America: our cattle, our open spaces, our democratic ideals like parades through downtown.” And with To the Wonder a filmmaker as talented as Terrence Malick offers up a prayer, a hymn, and a meditation that demands repeated, devotional viewing.

To the Wonder (112 mins.) is rated R (absurd) for some “sexuality/nudity” and is in theaters and available for download on iTunes or Google Play (but it’s best to watch it on the biggest screen possible).

Just look at the song “Imagine.” A little more than a year ago, I wrote about the religious uproar that took place when Cee-Lo Green changed the words to this song when he sang it during the Times Square New Year’s Eve broadcast. (Green sang, “And all religion’s true,” rather than, “And no religion, too.”)

But think of the significance of the song’s placement in the national ceremony of ringing in the New Year. Since New Year’s Eve 2005-06, the song has preceded the Times Square ball drop. So the order goes: “Imagine” (a song that everyone can sing along with), countdown and ball drop, then “Auld Lang Syne” (a song everyone knows the first five words to, then stumbles along drunkenly for the rest, and nobody’s sure why we sing it on New Years anyway.) This means “Imagine” has extraordinary cultural currency; perhaps no other song besides “Amazing Grace” is as familiar to the English-speaking world.

What’s interesting is “Imagine” presents not so much a spiritual ideal of peace as an anti-ideal. If the song has a theology, it’s a theology of subtraction. Take the mess we’ve got today and subtract heaven, hell, countries, religion, possessions, and greed—then you have a peaceful world. Note the song doesn’t subtract God, which Lennon believed existed as a kind of energy source at the center of the universe.

This anti-ism-ism is consistent with some of Lennon’s other songs that deal with religion. In his song, “God,” which he wrote in 1970 for his first album after breaking up with the Beatles, he lists the things he no longer believes in:

I don’t believe in magic
“      “      “        “  I-Ching
“      “      “        “  Bible
“      “      “        “  tarot
“      “      “        “  Hitler
“      “      “        “  Jesus
“      “      “        “  Kennedy
“      “      “        “  Buddha
“      “      “        “  mantra
“      “      “        “  Gita
“      “      “        ”  yoga
“      “      “        “  kings
“      “      “        “  Elvis
“      “      “        “  Zimmerman

“      “      “        “  Beatles…

I just believe in me/ Yoko and me/ And that’s reality.

“Gita” refers to the Bhagavad Gita, the sacred Hindu text. “Zimmerman” refers to Robert Zimmerman, or as he’s known to most of us, Bob Dylan.

Gary Tillery has written a good spiritual biography of John Lennon called “The Cynical Idealist.” Tillery describes “God” as Lennon’s “declaration of independence.”

“His objective is quite straightforward: to stand alone intellectually—rejecting all belief systems and all idols, even the idol he had helped to create and to which he owed his own power and influence. Descartes had proposed as an axiom, ‘I think therefore I am.’ Lennon’s version might have been phrased, ‘I don’t believe, therefore I am.’” (54)

What’s interesting about this is that despite his negative belief system people tend to associate all kinds of distinct ideologies about religion with John Lennon. Much of the uproar over Cee-Lo Green’s change of the lyrics came from the so-called neo-atheist camp, which seemed to think of “Imagine” as an atheist or anti-religious song.

Many people associate Lennon with a kind of groovy 60′s Eastern mysticism. This can be seen in the offerings that are left at the “Imagine” mosaic at Strawberry Fields in Central Park. The fruit and flowers are symbols of impermanence that resemble the spiritual gifts left at Buddhist shrines. Again, this has more to do with projection than reality, as Lennon was never a Buddhist. His association with Eastern religion comes from the Beatles’ period of exploration of the meditation techniques of the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi in 1967. According to Tillery, Lennon continued some of the practices of meditation throughout his life, but this was not out of respect for the Maharishi, whom he came to despise as a charlatan. (See the song “Sexy Sadie.”) John Lennon was never much of a disciple.

In my talk in Berkeley I gave some examples of areas where the teachings of Jesus Christ and the songs or philosophy of John Lennon seem to match up.

It kind of started as a dare from a professor, but I think I can make a compelling case that “love is all you need,” is a pretty good summary of the Gospel message when viewed through a biblical lens. See here. (This will open a brief slideshow in the online PowerPoint app. Keep clicking through until you see the slide with Buddy Christ.)

Both Lennon and Christ attempted to free their followers of a simplistic disciple-and-guru relationship to a self-empowered spirituality or salvation..

When asked in the Gospel of Luke about what the Kingdom of God would look like, Jesus said, “The kingdom of God is not coming with things that can be observed; nor will they say, ‘Look, here it is!’ or ‘There it is!’ For, in fact, the kingdom of God is among you.”

This sounds like Lennon’s anti-manifesto in “Give Peace a Chance:”

“Everybody’s talkin’ ’bout Bagism, Shagism, Dragism, Madism, Ragism, Tagism This-ism, that-ism, ism ism ism…”

and in “Revolution:”

“You say you’ll change the constitution/Well, you know/We all want to change your head./ You tell me it’s the institution/Well, you know/You better free you mind instead.”

Continuing on this theme of self-empowerment, Jesus hardly ever healed anyone that he didn’t say, “Your faith has made you well,” a phrase of some variation that appears at least 10 times in the synoptic gospels. This suggests that the healings Christ participated in were not magic tricks, but collaborations between the individual and God, based on the individual’s own faith.

There are distinct moments in the gospels where Christ seemed, like Lennon in “God,” to deconstruct the very idolatry his people had created around him. When the rich young man in Mark 10:18 came and knelt before him and called him “Good teacher,” Jesus’ response was, “Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone.” Likewise, in all of the gospel stories, Jesus denies he is a King when he stands before Pilate, and even appears to deny the title of Messiah in Luke.

“I was the dream weaver/ But now I’m reborn/ I was the Walrus/ But now I’m John…”

The idea that Christ was out to empower people to spiritual freedom rather than to create a cult of personality around himself is still pretty controversial in Christian circles. In Christianity, the one idolatry allowed is the cult of Jesus, in which Jesus becomes your best friend, your boyfriend, your healer, your confidante, your Prozac, your Santa Claus, your superhero, your favorite political philosopher (a la George W. Bush), your batting coach, your CEO, your drill sergeant, the Lion of Judah and the Lamb of God, the King of Kings and Lord of Lords. Not so much a person who had a specific teaching, a particular personality, and took specific actions in a particular time and place in history, but a symbol, an avatar, an embodiment of one’s fondest wishes and needs.

And here might be the most salient comparison between Christ and Lennon. After both of them were martyred, they began to take on a life as spiritual symbols rather than people—to become distanced from their specific teachings, personalities, and actions. Both Christ and Lennon became empty figures to be filled with people’s personal agendas and ideologies.

Often these followers’ projections are at direct odds with the actual beliefs of their purported spiritual gurus. How can anyone twist the teachings of Lennon to the point of lashing out at Cee-Lo Green by tweeting, “@Cee-Lo Green go to hell fat boy I hope you have a heart attack and die.” How could anyone distort the self-sacrificial love of Jesus Christ into “Onward Christian soldiers, marching as to war”?

The way many Christians think of Jesus, and many people think of John Lennon, is personally disempowering, leads to isolation rather than community, leads to self-delusion, often leads to self-righteousness, and in its most twisted forms, judgment and violence. I can’t think of anything both the Sage of Liverpool and the Man from Nazareth were more against.

Peace Altar – John Lennon
Werner Horvarth, 2007

]]> http://www.poptheology.com/2013/05/lennon-and-jesus/feed/ 1 http://www.poptheology.com/2013/04/reforming-hollywood/ http://www.poptheology.com/2013/04/reforming-hollywood/#comments Tue, 30 Apr 2013 20:39:50 +0000 Ryan http://www.poptheology.com/?p=3646 In recent years, much has been written about the historical relationship between religion (as an institution, and not just a theme) in the development of cinema. While it might not be as ground-breaking as advertised, William D. Romanowski’s newest book, Reforming Hollywood: How American Protestants Fought for Freedom at the Movies, reveals that there is fertile ground yet to be farmed in this field.

Romanowski’s research will most likely (and only?) appeal to students of American religious history or aspects of film history related to the studio era and censorship. This book is devoid of extensive analysis of individual films and is more of a detailed behind-the-scenes investigation of the tumultuous relationship between “Hollywood,” particularly the likes of the MPAA/MPPDA, and concerned Protestants, most notably in the form of the National Council of Churches’ Broadcasting and Film Commission. Religion and film historians have given much attention to the Catholic Church’s role in regulating film content. However, in recent years, historians like Terry Lindvall have begun to reverse…or address…that imbalance. As such, Romanowski’s book is more of a valuable contribution to that development rather than the first shot fired across the bow. On the other hand, his detailed, sustained account of the NCC’s BFC, for example, does mark his work as unique. If readers can keep up with the extensive cast of ministers, laity, and ever-evolving organizations (and Romanowski does provide a reference list at the end that helps, they will be rewarded with fascinating insights into both American Protestantism and the film industry.

While Protestant responses to the cinema are as diverse as Protestant theology itself, Romanowski argues that much of it centered on the tension between individual freedom (and by extension its expression in the art of film) and the well-being of society at large, here adequately campaigning for films that honestly portrayed the human condition while not overindulging in gratuitous sex and violence. Of course, protecting children and other impressionable viewers from excessive exposure to these themes was also a concern. Romanowski mines an extensive network of studio memos, minutes from religious meetings, press clippings, and trade publication coverage to uncover the ways in which Protestants voiced their concerns about the state of the industry while also navigating that precarious position of preserving filmmakers’ rights to freedom of expression. It was certainly never easy and rarely pretty, but Romanowski argues that Protestants played a key role in establishing the ratings system (itself woefully imperfect) that audiences rely on today.

Though certainly not with the detail of Reforming Hollywood, I was familiar with much of this history; however, Romanowski’s work left me reflecting on a couple of key points about the changed (and changing) relationship between religious organizations and the film industry. The first has to do with the once lively engagement between film studios and religious organizations that has virtually disappeared today, save for a few “special screenings” to drum up publicity for a particular film among a marketable, religious niche. Second, I am continually impressed by the awareness that so many ministers once had of the inner workings of the film industry and how they might be more involved in it to help speak to the culture through it rather than simply bashing its “unwholesome” elements over and over again. I imagine so many of them are rolling over in their graves as many contemporary Protestant (particularly evangelical) ministers content themselves with firing blanks in an on-going culture war that does nothing to elevate theology or film but consistently dumbs down both. Romanowski seems to hint at as much: “The history of Protestants and the movies reveals that a dramatic shift in American cultural values occurred over the course of the twentieth century. Indeed, while writing this book, I was struck by the extent of the subjugation of traditional Protestant values–like service and love of neighbor, sustaining community, and concern for the public welfare–to the primacy of self-interest and the acquisition of wealth and power in American society” (210). That so much of American Protestantism has fallen victim to this consumerist ethos is evident not only in prosperity gospel ministries, but also, ironically, in the films that evangelical churches have begun to produce, which are supposedly counter-cultural messages of evangelism and transformation.  

Charles Bradley was a James Brown impersonator playing the clubs of Brooklyn in 1996 under the name “Black Velvet”. Now, at the age of 64, he is a Daptone recording artist who just released his second album called Victim of Love.  His story is beautifully captured in the documentary Charles Bradley: Soul of America, where you can’t help but be awestruck and inspired at his journey.

After listening through his two albums (2011’s No Time for Dreaming and 2013’s Victim of Love) I couldn’t help but feel like he was preaching from a place of wisdom, love and passion.  His songs are heavy with earnest pleas for reconciliation and the striving for a better world. There are some songs that have overt spiritual tones, but his catalogue goes much deeper and reads like his own collection of Psalms.

Charles Bradley, like most soul and R&B singers, tends to focus on the lamenting of his situation and the world in which he lives, but he also contributes great songs of wisdom, praise and thanksgiving. Like the book of Psalms, when you hear them all together you are able to experience the full range of his experiences.

So here is my feeble attempt at putting together some of Charles Bradley’s songs using the four categories found in the book of Psalms: Laments, Praise, Thanksgiving and Wisdom.

Laments:  These are some of Bradley’s passionate expressions of grief. His heartache about what’s happening within his community and the world at large is palatable as he sings through these songs of desperation. You can sense his frustration with the times as he pleads with the listeners to do something about it.

“Why is it So Hard”

“The World Is Going Up In Flames”

“How Long” (Try reading Psalm 13 in tandem with this one.)

Praise:  Even though he is surrounded by suffering, Bradley finds beautiful moments that bring him joy.  “You Put a Flame On It” is a wonderful song of praise that shows the fullness of life he gets through his relationships.

Thanksgiving: “I thank you, For helping me through the storm. I thank you, For helping me carry on.” Amen and Amen.

“Through the Storm”

Wisdom: In his songs of lament he sings about the issues facing the world, but these are Bradley’s songs that offer the necessary wisdom and encouragement to make it through those hard times. There is a certain amount of “get off your ass and do something” that underscores the immediacy of these calls to action.

“Golden Rule”

“Heartaches and Pain” (a song for his brother)

“No Time for Dreaming”

It doesn’t take much to see how he’s able to incorporate the cries of the spirit with the hope for a better tomorrow. Though he’s about the same age as soul music giants like Al Green and Aretha Franklin, Charles Bradley no longer has to impersonate anyone else from a bygone era. He’s free to be himself and share this legacy with a new audience.

Has Matisyahu become “spiritual but not religious?”

Matisyahu, the Chasidic reggae star, has evolved both in sound and spirituality. Just the picture should tell you a lot—no more beard or Pe’ot (hair curls). There are some touching interviews online that explain his transition, when he realized that God loved him whether he wore the outward signs of his religion or not. He’s moved from Crown Heights in Brooklyn to the decidedly more sunny Jewish community in L.A.

His first post-conversion album is called Spark Seeker, and the name says it all. Just as Matisyahu’s theology has become less strict, so has his musical style. No longer laying down roots reggae with his band as he does in his magnificent Live at Stubbs albums, Matisyahu has mixed electronic beats with traditional Middle Eastern music to form a considerably poppier sound. Lyrics match the change, echoing a vague sounding spirituality, as in the song “Sunshine:”

Reach up for the sky/ Keep your eye on the prize,
Forever in my mind/ you’re my golden sunshine.

The song “Tel Aviv’n” celebrates the “life’s a beach” (albeit in the midst of near-permanent war) mentality of “The Bubble” of Israel’s cultural capital, with a dubstep dance beat.

There could be no bigger difference between the old Chasidic Matisyahu and the new Reform Matisyahu than “Live Like a Warrior,” which cheerily admonishes listeners:

Today, today, live like you wanna,
Let yesterday burn and throw it in a fire,
Live like a warrior.

Compare this to his song “Warrior,” which at least in the live version on Stubbs has a lesson on Jewish metaphysics, including the soul’s reincarnation and desperate desire to reunite with God.

When I lived in the Midwood neighborhood of Brooklyn, it was fascinating to experience Jewish holidays like Sukkot, Simchat Torah, and Hanukkah vicariously through my Orthodox and Chasidic neighbors. But like the Amish, it’s easy to idealize 19^th-Century clothing and insistence on old-world practices like walking to synagogue as revealing a refreshing spiritual innocence.

I was shaken from any idealization of mid-Brooklyn ritual when I told a lesbian Rabbi friend where I was living and she winced as though I had told her I was in Alabama. It’s easy to forget that Chasidim and Orthodox Judaism are fundamentalist beliefs, and like all such practices, exact a devastating toll on those who stray from their narrow course.

So kudos to Matisyahu, a secular Jew who had an intense conversion to a fundamentalist faith, and then through his spiritual journey came to a place where he saw God’s love as more inclusive.

But I just can’t help but think the more dogmatic lyrics and beats of Live at Stubbs 1 & 2 will be his musical legacy, not Spark Seeker’s interfaith pop. What Matisyahu had before was an orthodox sense of belief that he shared through an unorthodox musical form, and the mixture expressed an intense passion. His music now expresses a nonspecific sense of the divine—a “spark”—that may leave him more spiritually at peace but misses the religious ecstasy of his previous work.

Macklemore and Ryan Lewis

Just got this album so I haven’t had much time to listen to it, but first impressions are positive. First of all, their hit song “Thrift Shop” which has soared beyond 200 million views on YoutTube has an incredible anti-aesthetic. Imagine a rap song that celebrates putting together your look not with Dolce and bling, but with second-hand clothes. Genius. And an amazing message to “the kids” who listen to this stuff to let go of aspirational greed in favor of inspirational creativity.

Second, I know I’m not exactly ahead of the curve on this, but M&L’s marriage equality video “Same Love,” is beautiful. It features a heavenly-groove chorus vocal by Mary Lambert and a brilliant lyric by Macklemore that ranges from his own fear of being labeled gay as a kid to denouncing the culture of homophobia in hip-hop.

Macklemore then calls out the Church for its contributions to the oppression of gay people, but ends up reclaiming the Gospel, saying his religious upbringing also taught him to love unconditionally. The song contains a quote from 1 Corinthians 13, repeated over and over again: “Love is patient, love is kind.”

And here’s the kicker. If you watch the video complete with credits, the rappers give a shout-out to All Pilgrims Church in Seattle. It’s not clear what role the UCC/Disciples congregation plays in the video—possibly the setting for the wedding scene or providing the minister—but this is exactly the kind of outreach I’m hoping liberal Protestant churches will make. Don’t set up a “Christian alternative” to culture, structure your message in such a way that the mainstream culture will find it irresistible.

Sister Rosetta Tharpe, forgotten blues great.

Thanks to American Masters on PBS, I was recently introduced to the music of Sister Rosetta Tharpe, one of the godmothers of gospel, rock, and R&B. I rushed to the Internet and bought a compilation of remastered recordings from her Decca years from the late 30’s through the late 40’s called The Gospel of the Blues.

Tharpe not only sang gospel tunes in a silky smooth voice, but she was also an innovator on the guitar. Her meticulously picked swing matches her carefully enunciated, preacher-like diction. In her guitar you hear the embryonic sounds of the rock and R&B artists she influenced, like Little Richard, Johnny Cash, and Chuck Berry.

Some of her hits of Gospel classics, including “This Train” and “Nobody’s Fault but Mine” are sung in the old Delta Blues style with just Sister Rosetta’s voice and genius guitar in the background. “Nobody’s Fault,” first made famous by Blind Willie Johnson, has since been recorded by such artists as Led Zeppelin, Me’shell Ndegeocello, and Ben Harper.

Tharpe’s gospel message is clear, but of course she didn’t learn those guitar licks in the choir loft. The lady spent some time in clubs and juke joints, and this contact with the “sinful world” comes across in popular recordings like “My Man and I,” and “Tall Skinny Papa,” songs that scandalized her church followers.

In fact, Tharpe had as difficult a life you might expect for a blues musician, struggling through relationships with both men and women, fighting the indignities of touring and performing in the segregated South, and eventually losing her leg to diabetes and dying of a stroke at age 54.

Her life experiences lend a note of credibility to Gospel warning songs like, “There Are Strange Things Happening Every Day,” and “The Natural Facts.” These songs admonish against “backsliding” and preachers who have spent too much time at college (uh oh, I’m screwed). Yet despite their warning tone, the songs don’t lose their joyful bluesy bounce.

The finest recordings on this album are Sister Rosetta’s collaborations with talented background vocalists, including Marie Knight, Sister Tharpe’s sometime lover. Their recordings of “Didn’t It Rain” and “Up Above My Head I Hear Music in the Air” are meticulous contrapuntal trios between Sister, Knight, and the guitar; these women clearly made beautiful music together.

The song “Jonah” should be called “Jonah and the Wail,” because of Sister’s magnificent vocal glissandos that emulate the wavy swallow and spit-up of Jonah’s trek. And the song comes with a dose of humor as Sister sings the chorus:

Oh some people don’t believe
That a whale could him receive,
But that does not make my song at all untrue.
Why, there are wales on every side,
With their big mouths open wide,
Just take care my friend, or one will swallow you.

Her recording of “Down by the Riverside” with a male gospel quartet has been entered into the collection of the Library of Congress. Besides its historical significance as a precursor to rock n’ roll with its boogie-woogie piano and guitar duet, it’s just a charmer all around. I dare anyone to listen to Sister’s scat-jazzy “No-no-no-no-no-no-no,” answer to the quartet’s “Ain’t gonna study war no more” and not be happy.

Sister Rosetta Tharpe is the embodiment of a great truth, that the Blues is not “sad” music. Even when it seems to be about the most difficult things: addiction, lost love, the oppressions of poverty and racism, Blues is about human beings refusing to be buried by their situation. The music is a life cry for dignity and a lamentation prayer for a better life to come. And in the case of Sister Tharpe’s Blues Gospel, more often than not, it’s an expression of unmitigated joy.

A joyful noise.

Spring Breakers is an over-the-top cautionary tale (of sorts) about four college-age girls, Faith (Selena Gomez), Candy (Vanessa Hudgens), Brit (Ashley Benson), and Cotty (Rachel Korine), who are bored to tears and looking for a little spring break excitement. The problem? They don’t have enough money. Three of them (guess which one didn’t tag along) rob a restaurant with a water gun and a sledge hammer, grab Faith, and hop a bus to St. Petersburg, Florida. There they engage in hedonistic activities with their peers, hooking up, smoking a lot of weed, doing coke, and binge drinking all the while bouncing to hip-hop music and destroying motel rooms. Police raid one of the parties, and the girls are taken to jail. Just when it seems that all hope is lost, in walks an opportunistic, shady drug/gun dealer and aspiring rapper, Alien (James Franc0 in corn rows and tats), to bail them out. He sees potential partners in crime. Faith doesn’t have a good feeling about this and makes the tough decision to go back home. After an incidence of gang violence, Cotty also flees, leaving Candy and Brit to follow in Alien’s footsteps. I’ll leave it here to avoid spoilers because there’s so much to talk about without giving anything away.

Bored little jailbirds.

The best place to start might be with an analysis of the film itself…that is its aesthetics. The film is cut up like so many lines of cocaine, and gun shots ring out at almost every transition. The colors are an endless rainbow of hot pinks, blues, greens, oranges, and yellows, all the highlighter colors in which spring breakers and backpackers bedeck themselves. There is extensive nudity, of the upper-half female variety. As such, the film might be seen as sexist…there are certainly numerous scenes of women put (putting themselves) in compromising, demeaning positions. There’s also a complicating element of female empowerment in the last third of the film. How successfully the film navigates these two positions will most likely depend on the mindset of individual viewers.

Spring Breakers might also be a commentary on race, if it’s actually trying to do or say anything. But race, here, is a troubling component. In the world of Spring Breakers, you could be forgiven for thinking that all African American men are threatening, hovering, drug-using, hard-drinking sexual predators because, well, in the film that’s all we get. You might also think that this describes all men, period. Faith flees the party scene when it gets too dangerous, which might also be a way of saying too black. On the other hand, you have characters like Candy, Brit, and Cotty who embrace their new, more exciting environment with gusto.

A side note on the partying scenes: I’ve never partaken in similar spring break trips so I don’t know how exaggerated they are, but it’s hard to see how anyone with both hemispheres of their brain fully functioning would find this appealing. As Manohla Dargis put it in her review for The New York Times: “For those who don’t belong to their tribe (never wanted to, never did), they may be exotic, worrisome, frightening or representatives of the decline of the West in hot-pink bikinis.” There’s a sense, however, that Korine is not simply reveling in this type of behavior but returning to it over and over again in attempt to show how empty or ugly it really is…or can be.

Despite the tsunamis of Natty Lite, bags of weed, and mounds of cocaine, there is a spiritual heart to Spring Breakers that cannot be ignored or dismissed. The four girls long for something different, more fulfilling, and it is this longing that might, to some ministers and theologians, be evidence of a religious/spiritual impulse at work. All of us have known this longing at some point in our life and have no doubt responded to it in both healthy and unhealthy ways. These four college friends complain about seeing and doing the same things over and over. They get to their “paradise” destination and instantly fall in love with the place (“It’s soooooo beautiful”) and the people (“Everyone is so nice”). The problem is that when they finally go (get) away, the girls end up doing the same things they did back home (binge drinking and drug using). Same shit, different scene. For them, it’s momentarily fulfilling, but they all soon realize that it can take them in directions they never thought they’d go (at least for Faith and Cotty).

We’ve all suspected at some point that James Franco is from another planet. Here, his character Alien actually boasts that he is.

Faith is the most compelling character, for me at least. When we first meet her, she is participating, although without much enthusiasm, in a college Bible study group. I couldn’t tell if the Bible study leader was a minister or a rep for TapouT. My friend Ernest (@ernestmyers) pointed out that he’s actually a former wrestler turned minister, Jeff Jarrett. Most people will inevitably roll their eyes at the minister’s enthusiasm and lingo (he repeatedly asks for an “Amen!”). Faith, like her non-church-going counterparts, is also longing for something different. At its best, the Christian faith can speak to and provide avenues for fulfillment and countercultural living. Unfortunately, the example of religion that we have here is so shallow that Faith is unprepared to speak critically to the destructive behavior spinning out of control around her. We might point to her faith-based background as the impetus that fuels her departure, but she clearly leaves more out of a sense of fear than moral uprightness. There’s also a danger to the youth minister’s “preaching” when he uncritically references a verse from 1 Corinthians (10:13, I think: But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it”) that, as we see later in the film, could be interpreted in some really problematic ways.

And then there’s James Franco, who gives one of his strongest performances as Alien. The appeal of Franco’s performance is not in his big talking, fast acting, gangster posturing but in the subtle glimmers of realization that he might just be, like the girls he befriends, out of his element. He parades around in his bedroom in zubaz pajama bottoms telling Brit and Candy to “Look at all my shit! Look at all my shit!” He’s displaying all his t-shirts, shorts, caps, machine guns, and stacks of cash with gleeful abandon. There’s a moment in this scene in which Candy and Brit could, and for a moment do, turn the tables on him. Alien doesn’t recognize this for what it is, a lesson in vulnerability, but just views it as one more reason to fall further in “love” with his new running mates. Like the girls he has “rescued,” Alien is also on a misguided path that finds meaning and fulfillment in materialism and wealth.

I’m still thinking about and wrestling with much of Spring Breakers. I’m aware that there’s much to it that I just won’t get. There might be many viewers who dismiss or ignore the film altogether, and for those religiously-inclined viewers that do, they’ll also be missing out on what is essentially a fantastical, but altogether not unrealistic, echo of religious/spiritual longing from a younger generation.

Spring Breakers (94 mins.) is rated R for strong sexual content, language, nudity, drug use and violence throughout and is currently in theaters.

I was hoping for replacement
When the sun burst thru the sky.

Neil Young, “After the Gold Rush”

As we were preparing for the arrival of our son, Caleb, many decisions carried with them a sense of sacred immediacy.  Though there were probably more practical and pressing issues to sift through before his birth, the question I spent the most time wrestling with was: “What is going to be his first musical experience?”  

I knew a couple things for sure: it had to be vinyl (I wanted him to experience the ‘pop’ and ‘hiss’ of the needle touching down for the first time), and it had to be at home in front of the same stereo with which I had spent countless hours on my own musical journey. The big question was “what are we going to listen to?”  I thought hard about “Revolver” by the Beatles, “What’s Going On” by Marvin Gaye, and “Exile on Main Street” by the Stones but ultimately decided to go with “After the Gold Rush” by Neil Young because it was a song that I had sung to him before his birth.

The proud papa, Steve, with son Caleb and first-listen Neil Young.

As I put the record on, held Caleb, and started to sing to him, the gravity of the moment hit me.  It was a holy, blurry and tear-filled moment that I can only hope he appreciated as much as I did.

I feel that so much of these past five months of life with Caleb has been one kind of indoctrination or another. There are the fun and easy kinds of indoctrination like buying him a Chicago Bears blanket and teaching him the song to sing when the Blackhawks score a goal. Then there are the kinds that take much more thought and deliberation before I find the best way to introduce him to something.

Finding a Bible that I was cool with took some time.  When cruising through all the kid Bibles I kept finding the same two problems.

1. The stories have been so sanitized and stripped down that they lost most of their beauty and mystery.  I don’t need a smiling Isaac looking lovingly at a passive knife wielding Abraham while a Disney-like ram sits patiently to take Isaac’s place.   
2. The storybook Bibles tended to be horrifically insensitive to stereotyping. Every main character is white…except if they’re a slave. “The Princess Bible” ideology and the “everything is cool as long as you have Jesus” theology made these unacceptable to me as a representation that I wanted to share with Caleb.

If this is what counts as “sacred” for our children, what are our musical expectations for them?

Since then I’ve found a couple that I’m cool with and enjoy reading with him (Sparkhouse Bible and the Beginners Bible are good starting places), but they still feel a bit watered down. I get that they are geared to be more accessible and easier for a kid to understand, but I think that at this moment in Caleb’s life, he’s not at a place of engaging with and owning the stories yet…so why introduce him to anything less than what I would read?

It’s the same with music.  We were given a couple CDs by Rockabye Baby! that are supposedly lullaby versions of famous pop music.  While it may be cute to hear U2 and Radiohead played on a marimba, why not just listen to Kid A? I don’t want Caleb to one day hear “Let Down” from OK Computer and say “what have these guys done to my bedtime music?!?”  So I began the process of trying to find a balance of music that is both musically and spiritually enriching that doesn’t dilute the power of either endeavor.

When putting together my playlist of aesthetically- and spiritually-enriching songs, I started to look at three things: lyrics, tonality and performance.  

Lyrics matter, but they aren’t the only things that matter. If we only judged music by the words that were used, over half our pop songs would have never made it. I often think this is the biggest mistake people make when analyzing music, they go straight to the words without paying attention to what the instruments are saying. Each of the songs that I’ve chosen has a lyrical depth that points beyond themselves.  Most of them could be considered a longing for connection, of sorts, with either the unknown or an other.

Tonality matters.  What does the song sound like? Most of the songs I chose struggle between a sense of desperation and hope for what lies beyond. It was also important for me to introduce him to all the great sounds that have developed over the years. I wanted Caleb to hear Stevie Wonder’s keyboard playing, Emmylou Harris and Marvin Gaye’s vocal tone, and the crunch of Neil Young’s guitar.

Performance matters. Because I’m going to be listening to this with my five-month-old son, I wanted each of the songs to have some movement to them.  I wanted to be able to dance with Caleb. It’s that simple. This unfortunately eliminated a ton of great songs just because they didn’t have enough “oomph” behind them.

After much deliberation, I decided to structure my playlist like a double LP. Each record has an A side of soul music and a B side of rock. I found that Caleb could listen to music for about 25 minutes at a time, just enough to get through one side of a record, and so I organized these songs for his attention span.

Side A: The support of a Father.  This side is about how much I love him,  how much God loves him, and how we will both be there in the hard times.

“Reach Out, I’ll Be There” – Four Tops.  If there has ever been a prayer from me to my son, this is it. “Reach out, for me. I’ll be there to love and comfort you, I’ll be there with the love I’ll see you through”

“God is Love/Mercy Mercy Me (The Ecology)” – Marvin Gaye.

“God is Standing By” – Al Green

“Lean on Me “– Bill Withers

Side B: With an open heart.  This side deals with questions of disappointment, evils in the world, and the need to let go of our expectations. “Carry Me/O Children” by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds provides the perfect end to the first record because it represents  the cry of hope from a desolate place  that I have found all too common on my faith journey.

“Theologians” – Wilco

“Here I Am” – Emmylou Harris

“How Come” – Ray LaMontagne

“Carry Me/O Children” – Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds

Side C: Don’t Give Up. These are all songs about when something goes wrong and how to deal with it.  I guess you could call these musical “coping mechanisms.” It was important for me to show Caleb that there is a balance between depending on God as well as the community that surrounds him.  (How did I not include “Don’t Give Up” by Peter Gabriel?!?! I’m a terrible music fan.)

“Have a Talk with God” – Stevie Wonder

“What Becomes of the Brokenhearted” – Jimmy Ruffin

“You Are Not Alone” – Mavis Staples

“Don’t Give Up on Me” – Solomon Burke

“A Change is Gonna Come” – Sam Cooke

Side D: Rejoice. I take great encouragement in these songs. Whether it’s a blessing from the Stones, U2 offering redemption after the betrayal, or the comforting words of love from Crazy Horse, all these songs give me great reason to rejoice in the life we’ve been given

“Shine a Light” – Rolling Stones

“Until the End of the World” – U2

“Love and Only Love” – Neil Young and Crazy Horse

There is it, my son’s first (and certainly not last) indoctrination to the world of musical spirituality. Granted, we will continue to listen to the rest of my record collection as he gets older, but I wanted these songs to be the building blocks for his own journey. I’d love to hear what songs you are indoctrinating your loved ones with, please share!

If you have time, give a listen to my Spotify playlist: