Citizen Kane -- understanding "Rosebud"

Director: Orson Welles, 1941.

Almost 70 years-old, Citizen Kane remains a classic, a masterpiece of cinema. This is surprising considering it was the directorial debut for Welles, who was only 24 years-old at the time and a Broadway producer and radio personality in New York. It was a box-office flop due to a massive anti-Kane newspaper compaign. Still, it garnered nine Academy Award nominations, winning one Best Original Screenplay (Herman J. Mankiewicz and Orson Welles). Later, in 2007 it was ranked as the #1 Greatest Movie of all Time by the American Film Institute. What is it about this old black and white film that draws so much attention and keeps people viewing it time and time again? Why is it considered such a marvelous movie?

Charles Foster Kane (Orson Welles), a multimillionaire newspaper tycoon and larger than life character, is lagrely based on the life of William Randolph Hearst. So clear was this that Hearst attempted to buy all the negatives to destroy them and prevent the film from being shown. The film caused a private battle between Hearst and his empire and Welles and RKO, the film company. Hearst is quoted as saying, "You can crush a man with journalism," and that is exactly what he tried to do to Welles.

As the film opens, Kane dies in his exotic and expansive Florida mansion, Xanadu. With his dying breath, he whispers the solitary word "Rosebud" and drops a snow globe to the floor. Newsreel footage reports his death and traces through his rise to power and influence. Some called him a communist, others a fascist, yet Citizen Kane remained a mystery to most.

Bookending Citizen Kane the opening and closing scenes are identical. Both show the sign on Xanadu's closed gates: "No Trespassing." This jarring image gives us a clue to interpreting the movie and the man. Kane emphasized his privacy. He did not want to let visitors into his castle, and he did not let people into his protective shell. He was an enigma. How sad for a person to feel the need for that level of personal seclusion. Kane dies virtually friendless and alone. His is an example of a life lived with too much privacy.

We need to live in relation to others. God made humanity to be in community. Such social living requires that we disclose something of who we are. Unlike Moses (Ex. 34:33), we have to lift our veil, to open our kimonos and let others in. Such vulnerability may be frightening, but it is the only way to initiate friendship and cultivate the relationships that will remain to our death beds.

As the reporters review the news footage of Kane's life, they realize these images show his deeds not his person or character. As one says, "It isn't enough to tell us what a man did. You've got tell us who he was." There is the human interest story we have come to expect in our TV viewing. To accomplish this they set about figuring out the mysterious Rosebud. What does this word mean? Is it a person? Is it a thing? Thus the premise of the movie is deciphering the code of rosebud.

Yet at the conclusion of the movie, after interviewing Kane's former friends and acquaintances, one reporters states, "I don't think any word can explain a man's life." The quest to answer the question of "rosebud" is left hanging. Can a single word define a person? Clearly not. Yet, sometimes we try to do this for God, who is infinitely greater than man. People define God as love. And it is true, God is love (1 Jn. 5:16). But He is not only love. He is so much more. We may simplistically describe one facet of God with one word, but He is the supremely multifaceted being. Even a systematic theology that focuses on various attributes of God, describing him as holy, sovereign, merciful, transcendent, immanent, cannot do justice to an indescribable person.

Though the reporters struggle with the mystery of rosebud, their investigations do uncover something of the person of Charles Kane, the twice-married governor-candidate. He was driven by an inner desire: "He was always trying to prove something." Taken as a kid from his mother's boarding home, he is raised under the guardianship of a cold-hearted banker. The lack of parents in his formative years caused a deep wound. Without their influence and in his guardian's unloving atmosphere, he probably received little acceptance and approval. When a child misses out on these, he will often resort to proving himself as an adult to gain acceptance from others. This seems to be Kane's story. As parents, this is a danger we must protect against. We must lovingly raise our children to be self-accepting.

Kane, on the other hand, was self-absorbed. He cared little for others. His power combined with his emotional immaturity to mold a personality that was inwardly focused. Those around him acted as sycophants or got fired. In fact, only his wives stood against him. In particular, his second wife Susan did what no one else would do . . . walk out on him. So shocked was Kane, that he blustered, "You mustn't go. You can't do this to me." You can sense his belief in his own importance, his imperial manner. This perspective is counter to a Christian approach to life. We are not innately or essentially superior to others. Where a follower of Jesus should be humble, realizing his dependence on God, Kane was proud and haughty.

Indeed, Kane's sense of self was elevated almost to the point of self-deity. This is clear in his conversations and his acquisitions. As God owns the cattle on a thousand hills (Ps. 50:10), so Kane owned the newspapers on a thousand streets. His riches and infamy made him the most-well known man in America. His former best-friend Jedidiah Leland commented on Kane, "He was disappointed with the world, so he built one of his own." His palace at Xanadu was rich beyond measure. Like God placing animals two-by-two on Noah's ark, Kane had animals brought in pairs to his private zoo at Xanadu. (This was just like Hearst, whose private zoo at his enormous San Simeon estate was the largest in the world.) And as God is sovereign over his creation (Dan. 4:25), Kane wanted total control: "There's only one person in the world who's going to decide what I'm going to do and that's me." Citizen Kane has become Sovereign Kane.

Further, as God is often described by love, Kane was defined by love. This basic need of humanity and basic essence of God was for Kane "all he ever wanted out of life, it was love. . . . That's the tragedy of Charles Foster Kane. You see, he just didn't have any to give. Oh, he loved Charlie Kane, of course, very dearly!" Kane himself knew this. When making a toast with Leland, Kane drank "to love on my own terms." Where God is defined by self-giving love, a love that gave his only Son in sacrifice for sinful humanity (Jn. 3:16), Kane is defined by self-love, a love that cannot give but only takes. True love is about giving. To find love one must be ready to give love. That is the paradox of love.

Kane even seems to realize his own depravity. Talking to his general manager he says, "You know, Mr. Bernstein, if I hadn't been very rich, I might have been a really great man." His riches and power have corrupted what greatness and goodness he once had. They had inflated his ego and caused him to be great in the eyes of the world, but not in his own eyes or those of God. This raises the question, does being rich disqualify a person from being truly great? No, it is not neccessarily so. There have been, and will be, some truly great Christian philanthropists. However, it is hard for the rich to be truly great. In regards to salvation, Jesus said, "It is hard for a rich man to be saved. It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle" (Matt. 19:24). Such is the allure and attraction of riches.

As Kane aged we see his youthful idealism dissolve into cynicism and self-obsession. We see his desire to serve the working people disintegrate into the desire to serve himself. But instead of happiness, his money brought him loneliness as he isolated himself from others. Even his friends were rebuffed and pushed away. He is a sad picture of the man who gained the world but lost his soul in the process (Matt. 16:26). What a tragic cost of wealth.

So what did Rosebud mean? Without giving away too much, rosebud represents all that Charles Foster Kane lost. His young life was cruelly taken, and the love that he left behind was replaced with loot. But, as the Beatles sang in the 1960's, "Money can't buy you love." You cannot purchase true love, and you cannot easily replace parental affirmation and acceptance. Kane spent his whole life trying to do these two things, unsuccessfully. In the end, his rosebud was his tragic realization of a life lost. Oh that we have no "rosebuds" like this in our lives!

So, is it a masterpiece? Well, this is not my favorite movie but it ranks up there in my top echelon of films. The use of nonlinear and overlapping flashbacks makes for an interesting story centered on a compelling character. Leaving the conclusion somewhat open allows the viewer to interact and interpret in different ways. Certainly, it is worth viewing even in the 21st century of fast and furious movies!

Copyright ©2009, Martin Baggs

Donnie Darko -- anxiety about the future

Director: Richard Kelley, 2001.

Donnie Darko is a weird, complex and confusing film. Writer-director Kelley's debut movie opened in only 58 theaters, incredible in retrospect as this film has become a cult classic since then.

One problem with the film is it is hard to classify. It blends and bends genres. It is a horror, teen film, psychological drama, a sci fi flick, a fantasy movie, and mystery while at the same time including time travel. Wow, what is it? All of the above and more.

Donnie (Jake Gyllenhaal) is a troubled teenager in a dysfunctional family during the presidential election of 1988. Verbally sparring with and swearing at, his sister (Maggie Gyllenhaal), he is a loner, an anti-social kid with paranoid schizophrenic tendencies. One of his delusions is his recurrent visions of Frank, a demonic-looking giant rabbit.

When Donnie sleepwalks out to the local golf course and meets Frank at the beginning of the film, Frank tells him, "28 days, 6 hours, 42 minutes, 12 seconds. That is when the world will end." Donnie wakes with these numbers written on his arms, a form of tattoo. This is the mystery that propels Donnie to strive to save the world.

One of the tag-lines for Donnie Darko was "what would you do if you knew the future?" This is somewhat akin to the recent supernatural mystery Knowing, where astrophysicist John Koestler deciphers numbers predicting upcoming natural disasters. However, Donnie doesn't really know what is happening. The world may end but how? And how big is the scope of this disaster? In both films the protagonists seek to solve the mysteries to allow them to make conscious choices about this future. Without knowing, apart from facts, it is difficult to make rational decisions.

Rational and supernatural are distinct. When Donnie returns home from his somnambulistic adventure, he finds his home and his room damaged. A jet airplane engine had fallen from the sky straight into his bedroom. The schizophrenic or supernatural episode that led him to the links saved his life.

Professor Barry Taylor, in his recent book "Entertainment Theology," comments:

The film is a critique of 1980s American culture with its committment to overmedication and therapy as a means of shutting out anxiety about the future. But Darko would rather not be medicated, or undergo therapy, or listen to his high-school motivational speaker, who spews litanies of trite, neatly packaged self-empowerment messages to a largely uninterested and blank-faced audience of teens.

Donnie stops taking his medicine and begins to be caught up in the bizarre visions of Frank and the messages he receives. In contrast to the masses around him, including his family, he alone is anxious about the future; he alone knows something is cataclysmically amiss.

In addition to his dysfunctional middle-class family, Kelley throws in class bullies, a new girlfriend (Gretchen), the therapist (Dr. Lilian Thurman), a smarmy health teacher, a child pornographer, and a senile old woman (Grandma Death). Patrick Swayze steals several scenes as Jim Cunningham, the motivational speaker and town hero. Together, these various characters intersect to lead Donnie to the truth.

One of the paradoxes of Donnie Darko is its approach to faith. Craig Detweiler ("Into the Dark") sees the apocalyptic messages Donnie receives as instances of prophetic divine intervention. Is the voice he hears the voice of God, or some other prophet? Things are unclear; they are certainly not what they seem. Paradoxically, the demonic is godly, while the godly is evil and demonic. Detweiler states, "it is one of the most robust, poetic, and faith-affirming films of all time -- a dark but divine comedy." I would not go that far, but these paradoxes are worth considering in a thoughtful viewing of the film.

The therapy sessions that Donnie is forced to endure address faith directly. In one session, Donnie recounts a whispered message he received from Grandma Death, Roberta Sparrow: "She said, 'Every living creature on earth dies alone.' " This sparks an interchange between Donnie and Dr. Thurman, who questions: "The search for God is absurd?" and Donnie replies, "It is if everyone dies alone." Donnie is living his life alone, isolating himself from those around. He is comfortable with that. But dying alone is something else. It is frightening. It makes him question the very reality of God and of faith.

Dr Thurman goes on, "If this world were to end, there would only be you . . . and him . . . and no one else." Here is a biblical truism. Our individual worlds will one day end and we will all, without exception, come face to face with this one God: "man is destined to die once, and after that to face judgment." (Heb. 9:27) We are called to live in community but die alone. But this death, for Jesus-followers, is a gateway to life. It is not something to be truly feared, but something that can be embraced as a now necessary part of the journey into the future life beyond death.

When Donnie is given a book on time-travel written by Grandma Death, the scenes become visually twisted. But this gives Gretchen occasion to ask a key and pertinent question to Donnie: "What if you could go back in time, and take all those hours of pain and darkness and replace them with something better?" As Donnie reflects on this question, so can we. The simplistic answer is probably we would. But is there some purpose, some intentionality and value in pain and suffering? Many who have endured tremendous suffering say that it is in those darkest hours of suffering that they have grown the most. Given the chance to remove the suffering and its concomitant lessons, many who have endured this dark valley would reject the offer.

The Bible has much to say on suffering, but I will skim the surface. The apostle Peter addresses Christians who "have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed." (1 Pet. 1:6-7) Here suffering strengthens our faith, if approached with the correct attitude. Paul, too, points out the value of some suffering as we can comfort others later in their own sufferings: "For just as the sufferings of Christ flow over into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows. If we are distressed, it is for your comfort and salvation; if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which produces in you patient endurance of the same sufferings we suffer." (2 Cor. 1:5-6)

Detweiler summarizes his analysis of the film: "Donnie Darko presents a dark, twisted, but redemptive version of the cost of discipleship." Donnie becomes a follower of Frank the 6-foot bunny. His discipleship is evident in his willingness to do what Frank says, even when it is questionable. His final act of discipleship is one of great sacrifice. As followers of Jesus, we are called to obedience regardless of the cost of this discipleship. Jesus sacrificed himself on the cross for us. We can do no less than be willing disciples, doing what Jesus commands even when it is confusing or questionable.

Copyright ©2009, Martin Baggs

The Official Story (La Historia Oficial) -- truth too frightening to ignore

Director: Luis Puenzo, 1985.

Ignorance is bliss. Or so they say, especially those of us living in blissful ignorance and not wanting to change. But ignorance is not bliss if you are supposed to be informed, if you are the teacher.

The Official Story, Argentina's first Academy Award winner (Best Foreign Film, 1986), is centered around Alicia (Norma Aleandro), a mother to 5-year-old Gaby (Analia Castro) and a history teacher in a boys' high school in Buenos Aries. She is happily married to Roberto (Hector Alterio) and has a satisfying middle-class life. Life is good.

But this is 1983 and is at the end of the Argentine junta that was in power. Although this dictatorship had brought stability to the country after its earlier instabilities and dirty wars, things were disintegrating. The standard of living was in decline, corruption was rife, and the country had just lost the Falkland War to the British. Moreover, public revulsion and opposition to the alleged human rights abuses was increasing.

Against this backdrop, her new class of boys is a rabble of teacher-defying troublesome kids. With little rule in the classroom and little respect for her, her teaching becomes stressful and her girlfriends become her respite. Even her husband, a successful lawyer, is too busy to pay her any attention. Still, her friends give her solace and her daughter gives her purpose.

Two events shatter her fragile life and cause her to emerge from her pollyannaish state. First, one of her students challenges her. He asks if she only believes what the history books say. Of course she does, she is a teacher who teaches from these books unquestioningly. She is shocked that he would ask this, but this revolutionary idea takes root in her subconscious to emerge subversively later.

The second event comes from her old friend Ana (Chunchuna Villafane). Returned from exile, she catches up with Alicia and the other bourgeois ladies. But amidst their superficial conversation, Ana brutally and bluntly speaks truth to them. Later, in Alicia's home while sharing some wine Ana reveals her personal history to this history teacher. She had been mercilessly tortured becuase of a past relationship with a person of interest to the regime. Guilt by association, but guilt nonetheless, at least according to those in power. Such notions of illegitimate violation shock Alicia, causing her to naively ask if Ana had reported these. Of course not. How do you report violations to the violators without incurring even worse? Her ignorance was being stretched to breaking point.

But when Ana mentions that many of the women taken into captivity and interrogation were pregnant or mothers of small children, she is getting close to Alicia's heart. She tells her that these children or babies were taken and sold to families who wanted kids. Alicia, herself a barren woman, had resorted to Roberto to arrange an adoption. This revelation from Ana popped her balloon of ignorance. Could Gaby be one of these stolen babies?

Propelled by these events, Alicia begins a journey to the truth. As she attempts to uncover this truth, she discovers levels of political corruption she never dreamed of. Even her husband is involved in ways she finds abhorrent. The taboo subject of Gaby's birth becomes the central mission of her life and one that will change her irrevocably.

The Official Story, though a little dated and slow to get going, highlights the irony of a history teacher not knowing the truth. But it emphasizes the truth that it is the winners of the wars that write the history books. These books are usually slanted to their perspectives. Those who lose rarely have a say in these "official stories". We can see this in the historical accounts of the Native Americans. For years they were portrayed as savages rallying against the liberating and modernizing newcomers, the settlers from the east. The cowboys were the heroes of the movies of the 50s and the indians were the villains. How true is that?

History books that force an inaccurate point-of-view are no more than propaganda. We can understand this in editorials in newspapers, but expect more from academic books. We still see propaganda and this kind of spin-doctoring especially in politics. We are still experiencing the war in Iraq and its effects on the military families and the people in the middle east. Yet who can easily forget the ardent cries excoriating Sadam's abundant weapons of mass destruction. But where are these WMDs? They have never been found. The official story behind the war in Iraq has changed with a change of administration.

In considering the "truths" of history, what we read in the press, what we hear from our political leaders, we must learn to balance our youthful idealism with our aged and tired cynicism. Both ends of this spectrum are dangerous. A practical or pragmatic realism lies somewhere close to center. As followers of Jesus we must submit ourselves to those in authority (Rom. 13:5), for God has ordained civil government (Rom. 13:1). But when this government becomes immoral and corrupt then we must obey God rather than men (Acts 4:19), even if it means civil disobedience.

Reflecting on the tagline of The Official Story's theme, "a truth too frightening to ignore", truth can sometimes be like that. Jesus spoke of love and life, and that is easy to hear though difficult to accept. But he also spoke of eternal death and punishment (Matt. 25:46), a punishment too painful to consider that would last without end (Lk. 16:19-31). Such truth is truly too frightening to ignore. Thankfully, Jesus also provided a way to avoid this inconvenient and frightening truth -- to take his word at face value, to believe him and enter his kingdom. Have you embraced this truth?

Copyright ©2009, Martin Baggs

Doubt -- faith, doubt and certainty

Director: John Patrick Shanley, 2008.

"Doubt can be a bond as powerful and sustaining as certainty. When you are lost, you are not alone." Father Flyn (Philip Seymour Hoffman) speaks these words in a sermon to his flock in the Bronx at the very start of Doubt. In doing so he sets up the extremes that the movie will explore: doubt and certainty. Little does he know he is really preaching to himself.

Doubt was one of the best films of 2008, certainly one of the most thought-provoking. Shanley takes his Pulitzer Prize winning stageplay, rewrites it for the big screen, and then takes the helm as director. It is clear that this was birthed as a play. The movie plays out mostly with conversation; there is little action. But that is part of the mystique.

The screenplay is excellent and the script gives meaty dialogue to the cast. And the cast is outstanding. With Hoffman, Meryl Streep, Amy Adams and Viola Davis as the four main characters, the film is built on a firm foundation. So good is this quartet that all four were nominated for Oscars (though none won).

It is 1964. Kennedy is dead and the winds of change are blowing across the country and even in the Catholic Church. Sister Aloysius (Streep) is the head nun and principal at St. Nicholas parochial school. Iron-fisted, she is a disciplinarian who lives by the rules and strict customs. Modernity is an enemy in her eyes. Father Flyn, on the other hand, is a liberal priest who wants to see change come to the church. Compassionate and caring, he has embraced modernity.

One scene highlights the differences between these two adversaries, Flyn and Aloysius, by juxtaposing their dinners. In the school, the nuns sit silently around the dinner table drinking milk and eating a bland meal with small bites. You can almost sense the tension, as the other nuns look to Sister Aloysius and her non-verbal communications. With subtle gestures she conveys her disdain. In contrast, Father Flyn eats a succulent roast rowdily with two other priests. Drinking beer and wine, smoking and laughing together, theirs is a picture of life appreciated and accepted.

Enter Donald Miller, the school's first black student, friendless and conspicuous, Father Flyn makes him an altar boy and befriends hi.. Acting as a protector of sorts, he takes special interest in this one student.

When Sister Aloysius tells the other nuns to keep an eye open for unusual behavior she sets the tone for what follows. Sister James (Adams) sees something and reports it to Aloysius, who immediately believes Father Flyn is acting improperly. With the anachronistic backdrop of 21st century hindsight, we can see the portentous emerging crisis: pedophilia in the priesthood.

Sister Aloysius' confrontation of Father Flyn with Sister James present is the declaration of war. Flyn denies any involvement and declares his innocence. "You haven't the slightest proof of anything!" Sister Aloysius replies, "But I have my certainty."

In this trio of characters, Father Flyn seems to have some struggles with doubt. His is a very human character, flawed but faithful. Sister Aloysius has certainty despite lack of hard evidence. Sister James has her faith: "I don't think Father Flyn did anything wrong," she says to Sister Aloysius who retorts caustically, "You just want things to be resolved so you have simplicity back." The innocence and naivety of the younger nun contrasts with the elder's experience and cynicism.

At the center of the situation, Donald Miller is lost in the ensuing political struggle. Sister James wants to avoid conflict and get back to her untroubled life. Sister Aloysius ostensibly wants to protect him as one of the children under her care, but really wants to get Father Flyn fired. Father Flyn seems to be a likeable priest who genuinely cares for his flock. And then there's Miller's mother (Davis). In only two scenes, the first is an extended conversation with Sister Aloysius. There she makes it clear that life is not black and white. To her, compromise, even when inexpressible sin is involved, is sometimes necessary. She clearly has her son's best interest at heart but is willing to turn a blind eye, and does not want to get caught up in Sister Aloysius' personal vendetta.

What makes Doubt so intriguing is that we really don't know what happened. With no actual portrayal of the events hinted at, we have to listen to people's observations and their interpretations. This is so much like life. We often don't know all the facts but still form an opinion and take action based on that opinion. In fact, of all the cast director Shanley only told Hoffman the truth of Father Flyn's actions, whether guilty or not. No one else on set knew.

Opinion can easily translate into gossip. In Doubt, Sister Aloysius starts a smear campaign against Father Flyn. Gossip is a deadly sin that cannot easily be undone. Once spoken it acts like a virus that propagates beyond control. The book of Proverbs describes the results of gossip: secrets betrayed (11:13); friendship destroyed (16:28); quarrels incited (26:20). Other books in the Bible give warnings against gossip (Rom. 1:29, 1 Tim. 5:13). Paul says, "I fear that there may be quarreling, jealousy, outbursts of anger, factions, slander, gossip, arrogance and disorder" (2 Cor. 12:20). We need to heed these warnings. Father Flyn himself preaches a sermon in his self-defense addressing the insidious nature of gossip.

Another issue raised in this film is intolerance. Correctly characterizing Sister Aloysius as intolerant, Father Flyn jots the word down in his pocket diary so he can remember to build a sermon around it. Certainly most of us would view intolerance as a negative quality. Yet when does tolerance become codependence or complicity? Does Aloysius' intolerance of things modern color her view of Flyn? Should she have waited for evidence, or would that have been too late?

Fundamentally, though, Doubt focuses on the impact and consequences of doubt. When suspicions arise, how do we deal with them? How should we deal with them? In America, we hold that a person is innocent until proven guilty. Do we have the right to be certain without proof? Moreover, are we tolerant and open-minded enough to listen to others' opinions in a genuine search for truth? Our system of justice and even fairness would demand that we cannot convict on the basis of our own innate sense of certainty, regardless of who we are. Even biblically a person could not be convicted apart from the evidence of two witnesses (Deut. 17:6). One alone was insufficient (Deut. 19:15). And a person who was not a witness, who simply "felt certain" a person was guilty, would cut no mustard in a court of law.

Doubt itself causes self-questioning. This is highlighted in the two nuns. Both are plagued with worries and dreams. Once doubt takes hold, it can emotionally cripple a person. It can lead to guilt and remorse and worse. Doubt caused Peter to sink into the lake when he lost his perspective and his faith, as he walked on water to be with Jesus (Matt. 14:31). Perhaps that is why Sister Aloysius grips so firmly to her "certainty." She does not want to think about doubt.

But doubt can also be positive. It can help us see the holes in our beliefs. If can cause us to further explore and investigate to seek truth. Sometimes, our doubts and unbeliefs can lead us to cry out to our God, "help me overcome my unbelief!" (Mark 9:24).

Doubt is the flip-side of faith. Faith is only as good as its object. Blind faith is no better than unfounded certainty. Inquisitive doubt is a healthy side-kick to faith. It will tend to strengthen that faith. But unquestioning doubt will lead to subsequent self-questioning and a weakening of any faith present. In Jesus we can have a rock-solid faith that can stand up to the probing yet sincere questions of doubt (Rom. 3:22-26). Where are you on the faith-doubt-certainty spectrum?

Copyright ©2009, Martin Baggs