Definitely, Maybe -- the complexities of life and love

Director: Adam Brooks, 2008.

Will Hayes (Ryan Reynolds, The Proposal), a successful advertising executive in New York receives a letter at his office. Divorce papers. His marriage is finally over. What a way to start a romantic comedy. With such a downer of an opening, is it worth watching the rest of the film? Definitely. Maybe.

When Will picks up his 10 year-old daughter Maya (the amazingly cute and precocious Abigail Breslin) from school, he, like the other parents, is in for a shock. She had sex ed and learned the names of the anatomical parts of adult bodies. Not what he expected. So, is this movie fit for a grade-schooler? Definitely . . . not. Unless you want them to hear all the reproductive body parts casually spoken numerous times.

That night bedtime stories take a twist. Maya wants to hear about how she came into being. "Tell me how it happened. And the real story, not the 'Oh we met, we fell in love, and we decided to take all that love and make a family, and that's how we made you.' " This from a 10 year-old! Will reluctantly agrees, and so begins the rom-com, in flashback-mode. The catch is, Will had three major loves and he won't say which one was Maya's mom, his soon-to-be ex-wife. For Maya, this is a terrific idea: "It's like a love story mystery."

All three women are vastly different in character and appearance. Emily (Elizabeth Banks) is Will's college sweetheart back in the sticks of Wisconsin. She is sweet and cloying, a dependable girl-next-door type. Blonde and beautiful, she seems perfect for the young Will who is a naive and starry-eyed aspiring politician. But when he moves to New York to serve as an intern for the local Clinton campaign, she stays behind in the mid-west.

The Big Apple is miles away from Wisconsin physically and culturally, a fact that young Will soon discovers. His work at the campaign is not the glory-seeking speech-writing he envisioned. Rather, he is toilet paper man! But in being a gopher, he meets copy girl April (Isla Fisher). She is a ginger (no disrespect to red-heads, I was one once). Free-spirited she is college-educated but an underachiever not really knowing what she wants. She is drifting along in life, needing friendship.

Through another errand, Will meets Hampton Roth (Kevin Kline), a drunken and debaucherous writer, and his current paramour is Summer (Rachel Weisz). She is the brunette, sophisticated and ambitious, a budding journalist who wants to learn what she can from her sexuagenarian lover.

In recounting this story to Maya Will makes it clear that love is not simple, certainly not as simple as Hollywood often portrays. No, love is complex. As these three women interweave themselves in Will's story over the course of a decade, his affections change with the times. But there is a truism in the complexity of love. Love takes work, it takes giving. Love takes sacrifice. Biblically love can be traced to its source -- God. God is love (1 Jn. 4:16), and the love we have to share with others comes from him (1 Jn. 4:19).

We think love is something we get, but more often it is reciprocated when we first give. And like a red rose it grows and blooms as we continue to nurture it. A typical Hollywood rom-com ends with the "happy couple" finally getting together, but that is just the start. Unless there is commitment to sustain the relationship, the romance will fade and the love will languish and be lost. Love is more than a feeling. It is an action. We can act our way into feeling, but we cannot feel our way into acting. How many times have we woken up next to a loved one and not felt particularly loving toward them? But when we bring her breakfast in bed, and her eyes sparkle with gratitude that loving feeling is suddenly rekindled.

If love is complex, so too is happiness. Will plans a number of marriage proposals. In one scene, he is practicing his proposal speech: "So, will you, um, marry me?" Clearly he needs practice as she answers him, "Definitely. Maybe." Hence the title. But how many proposals must he express before he finds happiness?

The context of the 90s backdrop paints a picture of Will's loss of innocence and descent into cynicism and unhappiness. The political babe from Wisconsin grows up amidst the scandal of Clinton's affair with Gennifer Flowers. As Clinton's later news of his sordid encounters with Monica Lewinsky and the ensuing impeachment attempts progresses, Will's cynicism becomes depression.

As he tells his story, Will does not even realize how unhappy he is. What to Maya is self-evident is a mystery to him. What may have started as an attempt to reconcile her dad and mom, becomes a mission to see her dad happy: "I want you to be happy. . . . Trust me, dad. You're not happy." Happiness involves pleasure, contentment and joy. These were all missing in his life. Several times Will cries out in despair, "What am I doing here?" In a subconsciously philosophical way, he puts his finger on one of his problems. He has no purpose. His life has no meaning.

Without purpose, life becomes drab and dull. We lose zest. We become unhappy. When we discover our purpose, our raison d'etre, we often rediscover contentment and joy. As children of God made in his image (Gen. 1:26), our purpose is integrally linked to him. Apart from him, we will never know true joy. Only in Christ can we find our joy made full (Jn. 15:11).

Writer-director Brooks does a fair job of keeping the mystery of Will's wife hidden for most of the movie. He also keeps the source of his happiness a surprise until the climax. In contrast, the writer-director of the story of our lives, of history, has revealed the mystery which allows us to find happiness (Col. 1:27). Let's hope we discover this truth before the climax of our lives!

Copyright ©2009, Martin Baggs

Man on the Train (L'homme du train) -- planners and adventurers

Director: Patrice Leconte, 2002.

Chance encounters often lead to the strangest relationships. Strangers can be honest with one another, not wearing the masks in place to protect our real selves. A chance encounter is at the start and at the heart of this award-winning French movie.

A man gets off a train at small village station with a deep headache. At the pharmacy he buys aspirin and meets an older man. Needing water he accompanies this man to his nearby home then leaves to go claim a room at the village hotel. Alas, it is closed! No room in the inn for him, so he resorts to returning to the old man's home to spend the night . . . and a few more.

Milan (Johnny Hallyday), the middle-aged man on the train, has come to town to rob the bank. He is going to meet up with his band of criminals later in the week, but initially meets Monsieur Manesquier (Jean Rochefort), a retired poetry teacher. These are two men as different in personality as they are in age. But surprisingly a friendship of sorts begins to develop.

As with many French films, the pace is slow enough to allow characters to emerge. As they do, we begin to understand these two men. As opposite as they are, they have one thing in common: they are not satisfied with their lot in life.

M. Manesquier is old and lonely. When Milan enters his life, he has a person to talk to; though Milan is the dark and silent type, the brooding gangster. He will not open up easily or quickly. But when he joins his gangster friends he begins to see that life as unfulfilling. He needs the money but wants something different. He wants to read books about poetry.

Back at M. Manesquier's home, Milan sees two toothbrushes in the bathroom. He asks, "Why two combs and two toothbrushes?" Manesquier replies, "There are two kinds of men. Those who say, 'I must buy a toothbrush; I've lost mine," they're adventurers. And those who have an extra tooth brush. . . . Planners, at best." Here is the central contrast of the film: planners and adventurers. Manesquier had been a planner his whole life, surrounded by a library filled with books, reading his poetry, teaching his students. His life was uneventful. Even when he tries to pick a fight, he fails. Milan, on the other hand, is no planner; he has adventure to spare robbing banks. But both are bored with their lives and want what the other one has. Excitement for equanimity. As the climax arrives we wonder if they got what they wanted.

Is it wrong to want another person's life? Certainly, the Ten Commandments warn us against covetousness (Ex. 20:17). But that is coveting things: a house, a wife, belongings. Here the idea is more life and lifestyle. Realizing what is missing in one's life is not wrong. But what we do about it might be. If we are stuck in a career rut, as Milan seems to be, putting a finger on what we really want can be a tremendous god-send. As Milan recognizes finally what he wants, he can look in hope to a day when he might adopt this career or lifestyle. Likewise, if we see a friend doing something we want to do, it might be a divine message pointing us in a different direction.

What of planners versus adventurers? Is one better than the other? There is certainly something to be said for planning. Jesus pointed out the value of counting the cost before undertaking a venture (Lk. 14:28-33). As a planner myself, I can understand the usefulness of making preparations and taking precautions.

But the Bible also says that plans do not always work out the way we expect (Jas. 4:13-14). Too much planning may leave us lifeless and ill-prepared to experience life's true adventures. The apostle Peter was a reckless and rash adventurer. Never thinking too much before speaking his mind (Jn. 13:6-7) or swinging a sword (Jn. 18:10), he was ready to jump right in.

Balance is the key. We are all created with a tendency to one end of the planner-adventurer spectrum. But being able to flex and experience both facets will allow us to be more rounded. Planning and adventuring can be joined together if we take care to not let one become too extreme. Plan for it!

Copyright ©2009, Martin Baggs

My Sister's Keeper -- controlling or letting go

Director: Nick Cassavetes, 2009

The first murderer, when confronted with the question, "Where is your brother?" lied, "I don't know." Then added, in a gesture of angry denial, "Am I my brother's keeper?" This story, of course, comes from the opening chapters of the Bible (Gen. 4:8-9), and highlights the bonds of sibling care and dependence that were expected from Cain (the murderer) and his brother Abel. Similar sibling bonds form the foundation of the story, based on the book by Jodi Picoult, from writer-director Cassavetes (The Notebook).

From the very start, even as the opening credits are playing, we hear 11-year-old Anna Fitzgerald (Abigail Breslin, Little Miss Sunshine, Definitely Maybe) describe the conception and birth of babies. Though most are "accidents" she is not. She is most unusual. She is a genetically engineered girl, a made-to-order baby.

Anna's older sister Kate (Sofia Vassilieva) is dying with a rare form of leukemia. We see her with her family after the credits enjoying an idyllic summer day in LA, blowing bubbles in the air. These bubbles epitomize the buoyancy yet fragililty of life. So easily floating away into the blue sky they pop and disappear so quickly. Kate's life is like that. Her joie de vivre will be over almost before has it begun.

Through a series of flashbacks we see the "development" of this family. At an early age mom Sara (Cameron Diaz) and dad (Jason Patric) are told that young Kate has the disease. Their doctor tells them, off-the-record, that a genetically engineering child would be a perfect match for blood and bone marrow transplants. Of course, ethically he is not allowed to make such a recommendation or even suggestion. But Sara snags this ray of hope in her suddenly dark world and along comes Anna. Made as a spare parts child, Anna is her sister's keeper in the real physical sense.

This moral dilemma is center stage in My Sister's Keeper, yet surprisingly the ethics are not really explored. Rather than focus on the issue of whether a baby should be conceived in vitro for the sole sake of being available to provide for another person, the film focuses on the emotional and physical after-effects in the lives of Anna and her family.

Yet, this is certainly an important issue. President Bush signed the "Fetus Farming Prohibition Act" of 2006 to prevent intentional creation and use of human fetal tissues or organs for scientific or medical purposes. But fetuses carried to term become babies whose rights are governed by their parents. So, is it morally acceptable to birth a genetically crafted child for the purpose of helping an older sibling? In a 1991 real-life parallel to Anna and Kate, the Ayala family from LA conceived a girl to help their older daughter Anissa who was suffering from leukemia. But their daughter Marissa was not genetically manipulated and they trusted God to give them a child that would be a genetic match to Anissa. Their motive was apparently to steward the life that had already been given them, with an additional emphasis on the new life added to their family. Their motivation was seemingly positive and scriptural.

So, an answer to this complex question must involve motivation on the part of the parents and how they balance the needs and health care of their donor-child.

In My Sister's Keeper, Sara is completely obsessed with caring for and healing Kate. This is to the extreme, and all else is subservient to this single-minded goal. Clearly, she is not balanced in her approach to her family and other children.

So it is a surprise to Sara when she is delivered a subpoena to appear in court. She is being sued by her own daughter Anna, who wants medical emancipation from her parents so she does not have to struggle and suffer the pain and possible long-term effects of further operations in support of her sister. Anna has contracted the support of showboat lawyer Campbell Alexander (Alec Baldwin).

As the film moves toward a climax, there is a moving scene in the judge's chambers where Judge De Salvo (Joan Cusack) wants to assess Anna's ability to understand what she is asking for. There is an emotional connection between the two based on loss. Indeed, the courtroom scene, where first Sara then Anna are put on the stand, is powerful and stands up to other courtroom scenes, such as To Kill a Mockingbird.

My Sister's Keeper is not perfect, by any means. It veers into sentimentality at points and gross-out imagery at others. Its nonlinear narrative enables it to gloss over a number of plot holes quickly and quietly. It underplays the male characters to overplay the three female leads. And it traverses a fairly predictable and emotionally depressing path only to add a snippet of Hollywood hope at the end.

Yet, for all this, it was an engaging and thought-provoking movie. It raises additional issues of age of responsibility for control over your body as well as the point of letting go. At what point are we able to make informed decisions about our own bodies instead of being under the governance of our parents? The film sets up the scene well but never really delivers a solid answer.

As for the time when life veers into death, when is the time to die with grace? Is it more important, as Sara seems to think, to strive for every additional minute or month, regardless of the cost in dollars or lives impacted? There comes a time for all of us when life will run out, when our last breath is but a moment away. The wise king Solomon once wrote a poem about this in the third chapter of Ecclesiastes.

1 There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under
heaven:

2 a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,

3 a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,

4 a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,

5 a time to scatter stones and a time
to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain,

6 a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,

7 a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,

8 a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.

There is a time for everything and we need to be ready to die as we have lived: with grace. In this way, even in death can we glorify our God who has given us the gift of life and the time on this earth to prepare for our eternal life in heaven (or hell) that will follow.

Copyright ©2009, Martin Baggs

Eldorado -- acceptance and grace

Director: Bouli Lanners, 2008.

Eldorado is not about the legendary city of gold deep in the heart of the Amazon jungle. Rather it is a French-speaking Belgian buddy movie about a weird road-trip in a 1979 Chevy Eldorado.

Lanners wrote, directs and stars as a Yvan, a slovenly, hirsute man who comes home to find his house is being burgled. Picking up a lead pipe he enters looking for the burglar. Going into his bedroom it appears empty. But the would-be robber, Didier (Fabrice Adde), is hiding under the bed and won't come out! Yvan decides not to call the police, although this is not explained. Instead, he elects to wait out the burglar by sitting in a chair in his bedroom.

When he finally emerges, Yvan decides to give him a ride back towards town and drops him off at a crossroads and then proceeds to do his own business. When he returns later to find Didier still waiting in the same place, he once again takes pity on the poor man and agrees to take him to his parents home on the Belgian border.

Eldorado has some very funny moments, but is filled with absurdity along the way. Lanners brings some bizarre characters into the film for distinct episodes but some of them feel overly contrived, such as the naked camper and the hugger. In the end, it is more sick and sad than funny and fulfilling.

Yvan and Didier are polar opposites, which is expected in a buddy movie. Didier is rake thin and scrawny. He is a drug addict who has apparently kicked the habit. Talkative and jittery, he is ready to spin a line or two. Yvan is larger and more reflective. He keeps his thoughts to himself. Neither are Hollywood cute; both are humdrum and ordinary, even homely. But both have secrets they harbor in their hearts.

Yvan is a picture of sorts of the Good Samaritan (Lk. 10). Finding Didier vulnerable and harmless in his house, he has compassion on him. This is grace in action. He could have called the police and had Didier thrown in jail, but love prevailed. He was willing to accept him and even help him in his desire to return to his parents' home.

When Didier finally arrives at his parents' home it is no poignant moment. This is not the return of the prodigal son (Lk. 15). Without grace to oil the cogs of a relationship, they grow rusty and refuse to turn. Relationships become bitter and hateful rather than better and loving. The fateful family reunion gives a hint of what that parable would have been like apart from grace.

Yvan has been compared by some critics to the Coen brothers, and this film in particular to The Big Lebowski. Both have elements of the absurd and freaky folks throughout. Yet, Eldorado descends from an intriguing beginning to a disappointing ending. Ultimately, the bleak conclusion leaves us feeling frustrated. What is the point that Lanners wants us to take away?

How is Yvan's grace repaid? It is not. But that is the point of grace. It is freely given, not a loan. Grace cannot be repaid. If it is given with the expectation of repayment, then it is not grace at all.

Eldorado left me thinking about grace and acceptance. Am I willing to offer grace to those less fortunate than me? Am I willing to go the extra mile or more to help others like Didier who are in desperate need? It is all too easy to push the marginalized away, to look down on them, to turn away. But like Yvan, the graceful and compassionate response is acceptance even if it is costly.

Copyright ©2009, Martin Baggs