Fallen -- seeing with eyes of faith

Director: Gregory Hoblit, 1998.

Not too many Hollywood films have explicit themes that are religious in nature. Religion, though an integral part of the lives of many people worldwide, is politically incorrect as a topic or theme in the West. Yet Hoblit's Fallen is overtly religious dealing with faith and demons. As a supernatural thriller it is engaging and effective. As a primer on biblical theology it is less effective.

Denzel Washington (The Taking of Pelham 1-2-3) plays Detective John Hobbes, a homicide cop who struggles with the big philosophical and theological questions of life, like "Why are we here?" His divorce has left him alone, living with his brother and nephew. His partner, Jonesy (John Goodman, Barton Fink), is a foil to allow Hobbes to ponder these questions. Interestingly, Hobbes' name is taken from the combination of two 17th century philosphers, Thomas Hobbes and John Locke. These both explored the innate nature of humanity, whether evil or rational and good. And these are themes explored in Fallen.

After an opening scene that leaves us wondering about Denzel Washington's character (Detective John Hobbes), we flashback in time to see him visiting a condemned killer he captured, Edgar Reese (Elias Koteas). Hobbes is the one on the outside of the cell, but Reese acts as though Hobbes is the one trapped and imprisoned. Indeed, Reese is arrogant and cocky, confidently shaking Hobbes' hand though death is only minutes away. As he skips to his execution he sings, "Time is on my side," a key song throughout. And before he is put to death he touches the executioner.

Hobbes thinks the string of serial murders has run its course, but how wrong he is. When a clue whispered to him by Reese shows up written on the wall of another murder victim, Hobbes begins to question what is going on. Something is happening that appears evident only to him.

And that brings us to one of the themes and points of contact with biblical Christianity. Hobbes says it, "Something is always happening, but when it happens, people don't always see it, or understand it, or accept it." It takes him a while but he begins to see. Our eyes are closed to the unusual and invisible. We see what we expect to see. But many times things are hiding in plain sight. The supernatural, the immaterial, is not visible to the eyes in our head. But they are visible to the eyes of faith. The prophet Elisha saw the chariots of fire that surrounded his city although his servant did not (2 Kings 6:16). When Elisha prayed God opened his servant's eyes of faith to see what Elijah already knew was there (2 Kings 6:17). It often takes faith to see things.

Sometimes, though, we see things that don't match our experience and disregard or ignore them because they don't fit our paradigm. This happens to Hobbes. As his investigation into the next several murders escalates it seems that the killer has the exact same modus operandi as Reese. Yet Reese is dead; Hobbes saw that with his own eyes. Something else is behind these chilling crimes.

Hobbes visits Gretta Milano (Embeth Davidz, Junebug), a theology professor and daughter of a dead detective. Asking questions about her father's death, Hobbes pries into a past she wants left alone. As she verbally spars with him, she asks, "You believe in God?" This is a strange question to ask a homicide detective, although coming from a theologian perhaps it is not unusual. Hobbes responds, "Just Sundays. My job, seeing what I see, faith isn't easy to sustain." We are back to seeing. He has become jaded and cynical from seeing too much evil and its effects. But Gretta says, "What you see in your job is nothing." His physical eyes are open but his spiritual eyes are blind.

Gretta's question is pertinent to us. Do we believe in God? That is one of the fundamental questions of life. How we answer it will steer how we live our lives. Of course, as a follower of Jesus I affirm the existence of God (Heb. 11:6), the God of the Bible (Gen. 1:1). He is there if we seek him (Deut. 4:29). But it takes faith to find him and to come into relationship with him through Jesus (Jn. 14:6). Faith itself is fundamental to life. If we do not believe in God, like so many atheists, that disbelief itself is an act of faith. When we ride in our cars we have faith that our brakes will stop us before we plow into the car stopped at the red light in front of us. We cannot avoid faith. The real question is, in what or in whom do we place our faith? Hobbes placed his faith in what he could see. He was a pragmatist. But that would change.

As Hobbes' eyes begin to open he realizes that there is something sinister and supernatural behind the events and the murders. He suspects a demon named Azazel is possessing the killers. With no one to turn to with these "non-rational" thoughts, he takes his suspicions to Gretta for her assessment. "I believe more is hidden than is seen," she tells him. Hobbes is still not ready to see the spiritual in the physical world: "Well I believe what I see, but I'm still trying to get my mind around what I just saw."

At its heart, Fallen is about opening the eyes of faith. A demon is an invisible spiritual being that is personal and usually stronger than people. The Bible presents demons as a reality (Matt. 8:16). They were originally created as angels who were good but rebelled against God, their creator, and chose to follow Lucifer, or Satan, the chief opponent of the Lord (Rev. 12:7-9, Jude 6). In their rebellion they have fallen, hence the title.

These fallen angels can possess humans. There are many examples of this in the gospel accounts (Mk. 1:32; 5:18; 7:26). Part of the ministry of Jesus and his disciples was to cast out these demons, freeing the demonized (Matt. 9:32-33). It is clear that they can move from host to host; when the demons were cast out of the two demoniacs of Gadarenes, Jesus cast them into a herd of swine (Matt. 8:28-32). But exactly how they pass from person to person is not elaborated in the Bible. A means is postulated in Fallen, as this plays an important role in the film.

As a thriller with a shocking ending, Fallen works well. And hopefully it opens some eyes to the unseen reality of the spirit world that surrounds us. If so, it moves us towards a crisis of faith, as it did for Hobbes. Are you seeing yet?

Copyright ©2009, Martin Baggs

The Golden Compass -- truth, heresy and authority

Director: Chris Weitz, 2007.

Weitz himself adapted Philip Pullman's book for the big screen. The book was the first in "His Dark Materials" fantasy trilogy and provided a good read. But this adaptation is surprisingly dull and pedestrian, quite disappointing. The fight between two armor-clad bears, both cgi creatures, is cool but the other set piece at the climax is cut short too quickly. And the conclusion is open-ended, in contrast to the book, leaving it weak and ambiguous. If a sequel is made, it will pick up the story at that point no doubt.

Pullman's trilogy is a barely hidden attack on religion in general and the Church in particular. But Weitz and the production companies decided to remove any mention of God or religion. However, these themes are evident if a little veiled. Indeed, there are a number of themes which interplay with religion and Christianity, including the soul, truth, heresy, and authority.


As the film starts the witch Serafina Pekkala (Eva Green, the Bond babe in Casino Royale) tells Lord Asriel (Daniel Craig, Bond in Casino Royale): "There are many universes and many Earths parallel to each other. Worlds like yours, where people's souls live inside their bodies, and worlds like mine, where they walk beside us, as animal spirits we call daemons." This introduces the concept of people having souls which are visible to others, living outside of their bodies in the shapes of animals. In children, these daemons can change shape but they become fixed when adulthood is attained.

Certainly there is an aspect of humanity that is immaterial. Biblically, men and women are multi-dimensional in composition (1 Thess. 5:23, Heb. 4:12), but there is disagreement as to the numberof the components. At its broadest level, all Christians agree that we are made up of a material aspect (body) and an immaterial aspect (soul or spirit). Some see a difference between the soul and spirit. Dallas Willard, a philosophy professor at USC, has a model of the human constitution with 5 elements: spirit, mind, body, social context, and soul ("Renovation of the Heart"). In his model, the soul is the core dimension that interrelates all the other dimensions of a person to integrate into one holistic life.


But in our reality, the soul is invisible. We can only see a person's body, not his or her soul/spirit. We cannot exist in this world without the immaterial aspect. It is critical to our present existence. It drives our being. In The Golden Compass, the souls are embodied but remain close to the person they belong to. Interestingly, when the soul is harmed the person hurts, and vice versa. This is a good illustration of the biblical truth that some things damage us inwardly by damaging our souls, though it may not be clear from the outside. These can be emotional wounds, pscyhological scars, sinful thoughts and desires, etc.

Compass also raises a curious question of whether a person can live without a soul. In the movie, some are separated from their souls and they remain alive but clearly damaged. In reality, we cannot live apart from our soul. In the time between times, when we have died but not been resurrected, we will exist as disembodied souls (2 Cor. 5:1-5) awaiting the moment when our souls are given resurrected bodies (1 Thess. 4:15-17). But that is the only time we have a soul apart from a body. This is a body-less soul rather than the Compass' soul-less body.

The protagonist of the film is Lyra Belacqua, a young orphan and niece of Asriel being raised by the tutors of Jordan College, Oxford. Dakota Blue Richards gives a strong debut performance and is in almost every scene. Indeed, she carries the movie even when working with the veteran actors like Kidman and Craig. When she overhears her uncle talking about a magic dust only found in the arctic north which opens doorways between parallel universes, she wants to join him in his expedition, but is denied the privilege. Yet, when the mysterious and icy cold Mrs Coulter (Nicole Kidman) offers to take her on a similar journey she jumps at the chance. Before she leaves, the Master of the College gives her the golden compass. When she asks what it is, he replies, "It's an alethiometer. It tells the truth." This is central to this movie.

Lyra's use of the alethiometer to see the truth (from the Greek, aletheia [αλήθεια], meaning truth) is symbolic of reality. Truth is present, but not all can see it. In Compass, Lyra uses this magical instrument to get at truth, formulating questions for it to answer. In our world, truth is fully embodied in the person of Jesus Christ. He declared, "I am the way and the truth and the life" (Jn. 14:6). Those who look for truth and find Christ find truth. And apart from an alethiometer, we can offer prayers to God seeking wisdom and truth.

When her friend Roger is kidnapped by the "Gobblers," Lyra's quest becomes Roger's salvation. Along the way, her adventures include meeting and rescuing a huge armored bear, Iorek Byrnison (Ian McKellan's voice), and hooking up with an aeronaut Lee Scoresby (a perfectly cast Sam Elliott) as well as a group of Gyptians on her quest.

Her quest is not without opposition, though. The ruling Magisterium pursues Lyra with its own evil agenda. It has succeeded in destroying all but this one compass. It is a threat, as it can reveal truth to the initiated holder. And Asriel is a threat, too, as one of its emissaries comments: "If he succeeds in proving the existence of these other worlds, it will contradict centuries of teaching. There will always be free thinkers and heretics, unless we deal with the root of the problem." The Magisterium does not want truth; it wants to retain control. It sees its authority jeopardized.

The Magisterium clearly represent a caricature of the Church. (The Church is actually the body of Christ and his spotless bride, being prepared for his second coming. It is not perfect but it is God's chosen vessel of grace to a fallen world.) In the Dark Ages the Church used the inquisition to suppress heresy. Free thinkers that contradicted catholic teaching experienced torture and death. Earlier still, during the time of Jesus, the Pharisees were the ruling Jewish party and they retained their power and authority through selective oppression. When Jesus spoke out truth in contrast to their legalistic teaching (Lk. 12:1), they determined he should die. He threatened their authority with his free thinking (Mk. 1:27). His truth was a mirror that they dared not look into. Finally the High Priest declared, "it is better for you that one man die for the people than that the whole nation perish" (Jn. 11:50). Oppressive authoritarian regimes usually resort to intimidation and execution to silence their opponents, regardless of truth. This happened to Jesus. It happens today.

So,whose authority do we place ourselves under? Are we open to truth? Are we seeking truth? If we are, we will find it in Jesus as we place ourselves under his lordship.

Copyright ©2009, Martin Baggs

The Barbarian Invasians (Les invasions barbares) -- living, dying and success

Director: Denys Arcand, 2003.

The Barbarian Invasions sounds like an all-action historical war movie. Nothing could be further from the truth. This is a French-Canadian drama, with not a single bullet fired or sword swung. Filled with references to sex and drugs, it s a reflection on life. So what is the meaning of the title? More on that later, as it comes up obliquely in the film.

Arcand's Oscar-winning film (Best Foreign Film) is actually a sequel to his The Decline of the American Empire, made 17 years earlier. I didn't realize this, having not seen that prior movie. But The Barbarian Invasions stands alone on its own merits. The older characters reprise their roles but their children, now mostly grown up, show up as key people in the plot.

This is the story of Rémy (Rémy Girard), a college professor in his prime but dying from terminal cancer. As we first meet him, he is lying in a bed in a Quebec hospital. The failing socialist healthcare system means he has no private room. He shares a room with several other men. At least he is not out in the corridor like many. This opening reminds me of the Romanian film, The Death of Mr Lazarescu. But where that movie focused on the ills of the Romanian medical system, this one has higher aspirations: death, life, success and reconciliation.

When Rémy's ex-wife calls their son Sébastien (Stéphane Rousseau), a highly successful financial analyst living in London with his girlfriend Gaëlle (Marina Hands, Tell No One), he reluctantly takes the next flight. There is more than the physical distance between Rémy and his estranged son. Occupational differences add to their political differences (capitalism vs socialism), combined with the blame Sébastien places on Rémy for the breakup of his parents' marriage.

Seeing the lack of privacy Sébastien uses the wealth he has created to enable his father to have some level of comfort in his last days on earth. A novice in bribery, corruption and crime, he nevertheless manages to grease enough palms to get a whole private wing for his dad. Then to bring happiness to the man he still despises, he contacts old friends and ex-lovers, bringing them to the hospital suite for a reunion that will bring tears of joy and tears of pain. Surrounded by the peope he has loved, with food and wine aplenty, Rémy waxes nostalgic reminiscing on the good times.

When the cancer gets worse and his father's pain becomes acute as well as chronic, Sébastien sets out to find some heroin to ease the pain. With the help of Nathalie (Marie-Josée Croze, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, Tell No One), an old friend and present junkie, he scores the dope but he needs her to administer it to Rémy. It is in one of these interactions that Arcand brings out one of the themes of the movie.

Lying in a drug-addled state Rémy reflects on his life to Nathalie: "At least I'd have left a mark. We need to succeed, even on our own terms. To be able to say we did our best. It allows us to die at peace." And then he comes to the self-realization: "I'm a total failure." His son despises him. He has gone through multiple lovers, leaving a broken marriage and two children cast aside.

What is success? Rémy is filled with regret. To him success would have been writing a book, making a mark, leaving a legacy. Even on his own terms he lived his life for self: self-satisfaction at whatever cost to those he used and those around him. Although most define success as "the gaining of fame or prosperity" it is also defined as "the achievement of something desired, planned, or attempted." Success is a matter of perspective. From a biblical perspective: "Then you will have success if you are careful to observe the decrees and laws that the LORD gave Moses for Israel" (1 Chron 22:13). Jesus-followers do not live under the Mosaic Law but success for us is obeying the teachings of Christ. Then, just like King David in the Old Testament, who "in everything he did he had great success, because the LORD was with him" (1 Sam. 18:14), we will have success.

Being set in 2001, a TV playing in an early scene shows news reports of the 9/11 attack on the twin towers. An analyst opines on this:

What is significant, as my old prof said, is they struck at the heart of the Empire. In previous conflicts - Korea, Vietnam, the Gulf War, the Empire managed to keep the barbarians outside its gates, its borders. In that sense, people may look back on, and I stress may, as the beginning of the great barbarian invasions.

The barbarians were those that invaded from the outside bringing with them transformation. This life change could be bad or good, but change came with the invasion. Rémy's cancer was his barbarian invasion, bringing with it termination of life. But it also brought opportunity, opportunity for reflection on living and dying.

For many death comes suddenly, in a car crash or in an airplane diving into a building. For others it creeps up on us slowly as we get old and gray. In the former we have no time to react or reflect. In the latter, we have too much time and often do not get around to it. In Rémy's case his barbarian gave him the gift of time: just enough of it to come to terms with his life and his friends.

The barbaric cancer ultimately brought reconciliation between Rémy and Sébastien. The father-son relationship is supposed to be one of love and mutual respect. When death knocks on the door, it is time to put aside bitterness, bury the hatchet, and restore relationships.

Death may knock on our door today. Knowing this we must make reconciliation a priority. Reconciliation with God is priority one. He has made this possible through the death and resurrection of Jesus (Rom. 5:10, 2 Cor. 5:18). We can partake of reconciliation by bowing our heart, bending our knee, and following Jesus (Acts 4:12, Phil. 2:10). Then we must reconcile with our family and friends. Life is too short and fragile to live with broken relationship, as Rémy had.

In a beautiful scene, Rémy whispers in Sébastien's ear, "I wish that one day you will have a son like you." Success may have eluded him but he lived long enough to see his son as a strong and caring man, and to give him a blessing. Would that we might do likewise.

Copyright 2009, Martin Baggs

Miller's Crossing -- ethics and criminals

Director: Joel Coen, 1990.

The Coen brothers like to make films about crime, whether it be murder (Barton Fink), blackmail (Burn After Reading) or kidnapping (Raising Arizona, Fargo). Their third film (although Joel gets sole credit for direction) continues this theme, but focuses on the morals of the criminal underworld. Unlike their amoral Oscar-winner, No Country For Old Men, Miller's Crossing presents criminals with a code of ethics.

Set in an unnamed city on the east coast, it is prohibition era 1930s and Leo (Albert Finney) runs the town. His Irish gang contols the rackets, the liquor, and the gambling. When Johnny Caspar (Jon Polito), an Italian subordinate, tells Leo that bookie Bernie (John Turturro) is cheating on him, he wants permission to kill him. But Leo is in love with Verna (Marcia Gay Harden), Bernie's sister, and denies Caspar his desire. Even when Leo's trusted counselor Tom (Gabriel Byrne) suggests this is unwise, Leo stands firm. This obstinacy ignites a gang war between the Irish and the Italians.

In the opening scene, Caspar introduces the theme: "I'm talkin' about friendship. I'm talkin' about character. I'm talkin' about - hell. Leo, I ain't embarrassed to use the word - I'm talkin' about ethics." Strange as it may seem, these two murderous men have a code of ethics. He adds, in an unrecognized note of irony, "It's gettin' so a businessman can't expect no return from a fixed fight. Now, if you can't trust a fix, what can you trust?"

Ethics is a system of moral principles, a code of right and wrong. There must be a foundation for ethics. Where does this come from? Why would Caspar, a vile villain, feel compelled to refer to ethics? It is because it is deeply ingrained. Everyone has a conscience (Rom. 2:15). This is given by God, and it has a purpose to highlight actions and intentions that are morally wrong. Even if we are not religious and do not affirm biblical morals, we have an intrinsic recognition of God, who is outside of us and bigger than we are (Rom. 1:20). Conscience is a gift from God that points us towards him, as he is the only one who can forgive our sins (Mk. 2:7). But conscience can be seared and dulled (1 Tim. 4:2). When it becomes too dull, it loses its effectiveness and then our ears become deaf to its cries.

Caspar adds in another scene, "You double-cross once - where's it all end? An interesting ethical question." He is willing to discuss the ethics of his situation. He is willing to kill a man. But he is not willing to double-cross someone, since that would violate his ethical code. Further, he places high value on respect, and when he is given the "high hat" of disrespect he feels defiled. The Coen brothers illustrate here that all people have an ethic, all people recognize there is right and wrong. Nihilism is not a true or practical philosophy for life.

Tom is the antihero protagonist of this deep, dark movie. Byrne played a similar character in the later The Usual Suspects, but here he is at the very top of his game. Tom is a good counselor but a complex and conflicted character. With the gang war going on, he himself is playing around with Verna and is "friends" with Bernie. Yet nothing is what it seems at Miller's Crossing, a remote forest where gangland executions take place. Miller's Crossing is symbolic of the heart of the gangster.

This takes us to the other main theme of Miller's Crossing: the heart of the criminal. And Tom is at the center of the question. At one point, Verna tells him, "That's you all over, Tom. A lie and no heart." He thinks he loves her, but this could be lust, not love. He is cold and aloof. Does he have a heart? Can a criminal really have a heart? Or is the criminal cold-hearted and cold-blooded, driven by greed and lust?

The biblical prophet Jeremiah focused on the heart as the center of a person. Several thousand years ago he said, "The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it?" (Jer. 17:9) Our hearts have been tainted by the original sin of Adam (Gen. 3:1-7) and now we cannot love and we cannot live the way God originally intended for us.

Tom, himself, seems to understand the dishonesty and lack of transparency in the criminal's heart, when he says, "Nobody knows anybody. Not that well." Nothing is what it seems. The superficial is a visage hiding a dark beast within. This is Jeremiah's deceitful heart.

Bernie, though, asks another key question, when Tom leads him deep into the heart of Miller's Crossing for an execution. Pleading with Tom, he begs in self-defense, "they can't make us different people than we are. We're not muscle, Tom. I... I... I... never killed anybody. I used a little information for a chisel, that's all. It's my nature." He believed it was his nature to chisel a little, to lie and cheat. His ethic was not violated since he did not kill. What was Tom's nature? Was he a killer? Could he change his nature? Were Bernie and Tom fixed in stone? Can we even change our nature?

Miller's Crossing offers the Coen brothers' ambiguous answer to this question. But the question cuts straight to the very heart of the gospel of Jesus. If Jeremiah is true, we are depraved. We are like Bernie or Tom. Our natures are corrupt. We need redemption, a new nature, a new heart. Another prophet, Ezekiel, pointed out that our cold hearts of stone would be exchanged for a fresh heart in the new covenant (Ezek. 36:26). And this occurs when we accept our condition and seek this change of nature in Jesus. Paul said it well, "Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!" (2 Cor. 5:17)

Copyright 2009, Martin Baggs