The Ills of Popular Cinema or, “Franchise Killed the Originality Star”

I’ve been reading about “The Hobbit” film adaptation. Apparently, Tolkien’s son doesn’t want to see it made, and is pressing fraud charges against New Line Cinema. Guillermo Del Toro, the much touted director of the film, is making all sorts of ruckus in the media about which actors he will cast to play the parts and what crazy plans he has for creature effects. Meanwhile, fans everywhere bite their nails and worry that the film might not turn out right, or, worse, might never be made.

I’m a huge fan of Tolkien’s books and I loved Peter Jackson’s trilogy — with reservations of course. Regardless of how much liberty he took with Tolkien’s story, Jackson’s films were brilliant works of popular art that never reached too high or stooped to low. Together, these films were by far the most excellent entertainment in decades, but, to be honest, as much as I loved Jackson’s trilogy, I’m not that excited about “The Hobbit.” Del Toro has proven that he can make both brilliant works of cinematic art and jaw dropping failures. Pan’s Labyrinth is a great film. Hellboy 2? Not so much. I’ve got a feeling that “Hobbit” will be somewhere in the middle. What makes me sick is this mentality we filmgoers have developed. We seem to revolve our lives around the release of films like “The Hobbit” and in the process we limit the art of Cinema to a live-action landscape for our favorite books, comics, and video games to be played out in.

Because of this rabid fandom mentality, adaptations of popular books and comic characters are making the most money. Subsequently, these movies get the most hype, and overall, the most screen time per year. The escalation of these kinds of films is ruining the way in which we watch movies. No longer do we say: “Star Wars? What’s that about?” Instead it’s “I loved that as a kid! I wonder which villain they’ll use” In a sense, the franchise has ruined the joy of original cinema.

I like what the Inventor in Johnson’s “Rasselas” says: “Nothing will ever be attempted, if all possible objections must be first overcome.” Sure, telling a brand new story, one with no tie-in to a kids books or a comic series might not make the most money, but it’s a start. Everyone thought George Lucas was crazy, but he created a timeless film that people still love today. Where are the new stories? Why do we keep having to rehash ideas that were used to make a quick buck on newsstands back in the 20s and 30s? The comic book and the novel are both great storytelling forms, but so is cinema. Let’s joyfully make and watch new cinematic stories and quit worrying about whether Sir Ian Mckellen will reprise his role, and who will play Bilbo Baggins.

I’m going to enjoy God’s gift of cinema and make my own movies, and quit worrying how Del Toro makes his.

12 Hour Dream Marathon

Sleeping for a stretch of twelve hours brings a plethora of dreams:

I sit talking with my roommates on a huge hide-a-bed in our dorm room. Our PC walks in with a serious look on his face. He quickly finds the huge pile of uncheckable DVDs on the shelf, the M rated games laying all over the floor, the celebrity magazines and posters all over the walls, and all the rap music in my itunes library. BUSTED!!!! I can’t remember having  any of these things in my room. I try to explain this to him, but he leaves quickly, grimacing threateningly as he goes.

Checking into BJU at the beginning of the semester. Much confusion and confrontation in regards to check-in regulations. Mrs. Vick tries to help us as much as she can. We remember a tunnel at the back of the Alumni building made up of a labyrinth of school halls and un-openable doors, seeming to stretch to infinity, that we used to play in: an exact replica of the mines of Moria. We go to see it, but all that is left is a vast empty gym, where a new structure of caves is being constructed with plywood, named “The Sword-Room” obviously a less frightening, more child friendly replica of a castle. Not half as cool. We miss the Labyrinth.

Unable to check into our rooms, we decide to go to McDonalds. I lag behind and miss my ride. A classic red phone booth pulls up, piloted by none other than “Shaun of The Dead’s” own Simon Pegg, dressed in a Knight Bus uniform. John Lithgow and Mos Def are also along for the ride. We speed down the highway at a ridiculous rate. Mos Def supplies ebonic shrieks of comic relief. We miss McDonalds, hit a bump and fly into the air, smashing into the glass wall of an opulent mall. We fall two stories onto the hard marble floor. Lithgrow and Def miss the top level and fall all the way down to the ground level. Simon and I peer over the edge, afraid of what we will see. The rest of the people in the mall freeze, breathless. Lithgrow scrammbles to his feet. He’s alive and relatively unharmed! But what about Mos Def? “He’s also OK!” a news reporter announces happily from the scene, as our captive audience bursts into applause.

I drive an unidentified invisible vehicle through an overcrowded Gurnee Mills, approaching the food court. A cousin hands me a car phone. On the other end is David Letterman and Fiona Apple. I’m told I’m “on the air” and “What question do you have for Fiona caller?”  I stutter, first verifying who I’m talking to, then trying to think of something to say. “Hi Fiona, My sister loves you. Could you say hi to Kristin?” “Hi Kristin!” she bubbles back. Am I talking to Apple, or is this Regina Spektor? I swerve to avoid an Annie’s Pretzels stand. The cousins pile out, along with my brothers. We spend a long time trying to figure out what to order at the McDonalds. As we sit down, awaiting our blueberry slushies and chocolate chip cookies, Kristin shows up. I tell her excitedly what I said to Regina. Kristin doesn’t seem surprised. She smirks a little. “I was on the phone all morning calling the show. I must have used five different accents!” she says. Oh well!

We’re back home in Waukegan. All of my DVDs are arranged on my blue shelf, along with many more I’ve never seen. Why are we back? Didn’t we move? David comes in and greet me. He grabs a Terminator DVD and heads to the basement. I enter the kitchen. Mom and Dad are sitting at the kitchen table. Mom informs me that we are on vacation and that the new owner is letting us borrow the house for a week. I ask about the return of the furniture. Dad tells me that we moved some of it back so we’d feel more comfortable. Hmmm.

I wake up after another few random streams of consciousness ping my brain. Nothing else sticks though.

A Question of Violence

As a christian filmmaker, I’ve always struggled with portraying violence in films. On one hand, violence is an integral part of conflict, which is part and parcel of what storytelling is about. To portray a realistic world, one where sin prevails, violence is essential. On the other hand, as a follower of Christ I am commanded to not glorify sin. Glorifying a product of sin is glorifying sin. By portraying violence in an exalted, emphasized manner, one that focuses on the violence as entertainment rather than as an aspect of story conflict, an artist is committing sin. Destroying the human body, a body that we are told is “The image of God”, solely for entertainment, is a deeply disturbing concept to me. This is why I hate films like “Saw” and “Hostel”. Last year I watched a short film on studentfilmmakers.com that aped the style of these films. I was troubled by what I saw and sent this message:

The film “Murdergenic” on the Summer Shorts ’07 contest page is EXTREMELY
offensive. Its portrayal of the twisted destruction of human life is
inappropriate for an educational website. I respectfully request its
removal.

Deeply disturbed,
Sean Anderson

I had not heard back from anyone at studentfilmmakers.com, and until recently, I had forgotten I ever sent such a message. Until today, when a representative finally replied:

Was it for example something not as evil but still along the lines of the
“…twisted destruction of human life is inappropriate…” as the
destruction of the life of the most and only devoted King of Eternity when
he walked the earth as a man and was nailed to a cross?

Truly
Kim

I’m not sure if Kim is a Christian. She might have visited my website and realized that I was. She makes an interesting point though. If Christ died such a terrible death on the cross, why can’t we portray similar death in our art? She doesn’t really address the film in question though. Here’s my reply:

Hey Kim,

I remember making this comment almost a year ago. I’d forgotten I wrote it. Thanks for getting back to me though. If I were you, I would have just ignored me. As I recall, the video in question was of an extended scene of torture, mostly mental, ending with a man brutally murdering a young woman, then, in the next scene, committing suicide. As far as I could tell, the filmmakers weren’t making any deep comments about sin or death, they were just emulating their depraved elders responsible for the Saw and Hostel franchises.

As a Christian, I understand the importance of violence. Christ’s death was the most violent and painful death anyone could ever face. Christ died for us, and it was only through such a severe sacrifice that he could pay for our sin. As a Christian I have the responsibility to remember and dwell upon that death, in all its ugliness, so as to worship Christ even more for what He did for me. But as a Christian, I also have the responsibility to create art that is not celebrating the sin that Christ died to cover. Exploiting a scene of such horrendous violence and doing so in such a graphic way has no place in my life. As a filmmaker I believe I should realistically portray the sin in this world, but not in such a way that would glorify that sin. I feel that this film, as well as the majority of slasher and horror films being produced today, glorify and celebrate sin.

These students have as much a right to make this film as I have to complain about it. We live in a free country, and I am proud of that fact. The truth is, this film deeply troubled me. I had trouble sleeping at night, even thinking clearly in class. I thought that if I was so painfully affected, others would be as well, and I wanted the staff at your website to consider this.

Thank you for your time,

Sean Anderson

Eschatology

I wrote this poem last fall for a Creative writing course. It compares the Autumn season with the end of time.

Eschatology

A wave of fire streaming from the north,
Black robed reapers in the fields to glean,
A skeletal band, creaking, sallies forth,
Wrecks crusting carnage on the fading green.
Mist is summoned from its earthen sleep,
The clouds are splattered with the sun’s red gore,
The sky is opened; space grows dark and deep,
The raven’s throat is hoarse with words of war.
We will walk upon that golden day,
See the season as it sets and goes,
As the Fall is slain and dragged away,
Marvel at His work that plainly shows
An eternal Homily –
Autumns Eschatology.