The Big Lebowski -- tying it all together

Director: Joel Coen, 1998.

The Big Lebowski, despite no American awards, is one of the signature films from the Coen brothers. (Ethan was uncredited as director.) As in many of their other movies, they consistently use their favorite actors (John Goodman, Steve Buscemi, John Turturro) and they focus on idiots and losers. They had Brad Pitt as the moron in Burn After Reading, Nicolas Cage in Raising Arizona, here Jeff Bridges plays Jeffrey Lebowski, the laziest slacker in Los Angeles.

Lebowski is a bowler and a bum. Known as "The Dude" he epitomizes the concept of slacking. When his apartment door is busted down by two thugs, one a Chinaman, he has no idea of what is going on. They want the money his wife owes. But the Dude is not married. This is a case of mistaken identity. The Dude is not the Big Lebowski (David Huddleston), the millionare, wheelchair-bound, overachiever who is his namesake. In contrast, the Dude is a laid-back man who can take the punishment they dish out. That is, until the Asian pees on his rug before leaving. For the Dude, "That rug really tied the room together."

This simple case of mistaken identity becomes blown out of proportion as the Dude seeks retribution. He visits the Big Lebowski, being ushered into his presence by his obsequious assistant Brandt (Philip Seymour Hoffman). Leaving, the Dude takes one of the rugs from the mansion as recompense. Later, when the Big Lebowski's trophy wife Bunny gets kidnapped, he turns to the Dude to be the ransom delivery man. For this short delivery he will be paid handsomely. When he brings his bowling buddy Walter (John Goodman), a Vietnam vet converted to Judaism, things go very wrong very quickly.

The Coens throw in some crazy characters, including Maude Lebowski (Julianne Moore), daughter of the big Lebowski, a feminist artist; a porn tycoon who employs Bunny; and a trio of Nihilist Germans. As their paths cross, there are some very funny moments.

Perhaps the funniest scene is Walter's interrogation of a 15 year-old for stealing the Dude's beater of a car. Realizing he won't get a confession from this sullen teen, he takes a golf club to "his" new Corvette. Only it isn't the boy's car. Add a couple of druggy dream sequences and this film becomes a classic, almost a spoof of the Philip Marlow film noir movies.

But amidst the mayhem and madness, there are some serious issues being raised. In one scene where the two Lebowskis are facing each other around the fire, the Big Lebowski asks the Dude, "What makes a man, Mr. Lebowski? . . . Is it being prepared to do the right thing whatever the cost? Isn't that what makes a man?" Of course, he is not talking literally about maleness. He is metaphorically addressing heroes. A real man, a hero, takes the moral high ground and does the right thing. He is willing to pay the price, whether he wins or loses, because he knows what he has to do. Most Hollywood movies feature such a hero.

But in this movie, the closest thing to a bona fide hero is Walter. As a Vietnam veteran, he has faced the enemy and returned alive. Yet he is a man filled with unresolved anger. For him, life is black and white. It is all about clear demarcation lines.

Walter says to the Dude while bowling, early in the film, "The chinaman is not the issue here, Dude. I'm talking about drawing a line in the sand, Dude. Across this line, you DO NOT . . . " For Walter, crossing the line is an issue. This is even illustrated in one of their league matches. When a competitor crosses the foul line while bowling, the Dude says, "Walter, ya know, it's Smokey, so his toe slipped over the line a little, big deal. It's just a game, man." But this is not so for Walter: "Dude, this is a league game, this determines who enters the next round robin. Am I wrong? Am I wrong?" Being right is an issue for Walter. He sees life in binary terms. When he is right, everyone else is wrong. It allows him to deal with life more easily, but it is a false dichotomy. Life is multifaceted.

Too often we consider ourselves right and others wrong. In so doing we are not prepared to look at things from another's perspective. But if we take this stance, we are likely to miss out on relating to others. Right and wrong in this sense causes division and distancing rather than engaging. We will lose friends, and resort to inappropriate action. We may not pull a loaded gun to make Smokey report a zero on his scorecard, but we will nevertheless lose out. We may win the battle but lose the war. In fact, at the end of the movie Walter and the Dude lose their other bowling friend Donny (Steve Buscemi) because of Walter's anger issues.

If Walter is the "brains" who comes up with some crazy schemes that are "right" as a way to keep the money that he figures they deserve, the Dude is just the opposite. As a loser living out his life in his boxers and bathrobe, he just wants to bowl with his buddies, drink his White Russian cocktails, and do the odd joint or two. He has no aspirations to be a hero. But even a lazy slacker can be pushed to a limit. Even for a loser there is a line that cannot be crossed. And when this pain point arrives, he will emerge from his sloth and rise up to take action.

The Bible gives warnings to the lazy person, especially in the book of Proverbs. Sloth leads to poverty and often disgrace (Prov. 6:6-11). The sluggard does not get his desires met (Prov.13:4). Clearly being lazy is ethically wrong. God's initial command to mankind was: "Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it." (Gen. 1:28) This is a cultural mandate to work, not to live life as a lazy bum.

Perhaps the most important theme is that of the rug tying it all together. The Dude could live without most things but not his rug. The rug made it all hang; without the rug the room did not make sense. How does the metaphor of the rug work for us? What is it that ties our lives together? What is it that we cannot lose without taking action? For some, this might be our home? For others, it might be the retirement portfolios? For yet others, it could be the techno toys or the trophies. But, for followers of Jesus, this ought to be Jesus himself. Jesus ties our lives together. He is the one who makes sense of the life we enjoy. He is the one we must be passionate about first and foremost.

Copyright ©2009, Martin Baggs

Frozen River -- redemption amidst suffering

Director: Courtney Hunt, 2008.

Frozen River is the low-budget debut for writer-director Hunt and garnered the Grand Jury prize at the Sundance Festival. A slow drama, it has tension and several moral dilemmas that keep the audience's attention. While focusing attention on the issue of human trafficking, it shoots a spotlight on the survival of single mothers living below the poverty lines in lower class America.

The movie is set in upstate New York, just below Quebec. Ray Eddy (Melissa Leo) is waiting to buy a new double-wide manufactured home but her husband has split with the cash to gamble it away. Ray is left with her two kids, and it is a week before Christmas. Without the money she will lose her deposit on the new home. Having no other money, this family has to survive on popcorn and Tang for meals until the next paycheck comes in. This is barely baseline living.

When she sees Lila (Misty Upham) driving her husband's car away from a bingo hall, Ray follows her to the Mohawk reservation and the trailer that Lila lives in. This ugly introduction brings Ray into the world of immigrant smuggling, Lila's way of earning fast money.

At first Ray is a woman of principles, but circumstances conspire against her. A tough woman, she is trying to protect her kids, requiring them to be in school even though TJ (Charlie McDermott), the 15 year-old, could be earning money to put food on the table. Blamed by TJ for her husband's problems, she is bitter but not ready to give up on him or life. But with debts mounting, food missing, and the double-wide about to disappear, the lure of some quick untaxable cash causes her to compromise her principles.

As she and Lila drive over the frozen river separating Canada from the Mohawk reservation and America, their "partnership" is tense and untrusting. Ray's value to Lila is her car which has a large trunk with a manual release allowing several people to hide there. Lila's value to Ray are her connections.

As she descends into this other world, Ray sees people who are worse off than herself. There are Asians and Pakistanis who are paying heavily for the chance to be smuggled into America and their dream of a new life. But even that dream is sullied by the fact that most will have to serve in sweatshops as little more than slaves to payback the smugglers the $50,000 or more they are being charged. What price freedom?

What makes this film interesting is the interplay between Ray and Lila. Melissa Leo has a first-rate performance as a mother at the end of her rope whose eyes are opened to others' suffering. And as she learns to see beyond stereotype, she comes to see the cost and consequences of crime.

Lila and Ray have more in common than Ray first thinks. Both have lost a husband. Lila has lost hers literally, having drowned in the river they are now driving over. Whereas Ray has lost hers to a gambling addiction; he may be drowned in debt and never come back. Lila has lost a child, an only child, having had her boy taken from her by her mother-in-law. Apparently the Tribal Police on the reservation are not concerned about this kind of thing. Ray is losing her children emotionally, especially TJ as he begins to move into a life of petty crime for petty cash; like mother like son.

Frozen River, based around the issue of illegal immigration, shares a common theme with The Visitor, another low-budget movie. But the immigrants in The Visitor were not smuggled in, nor were they destined for slavery. Indeed, The Visitor was a lighter film but it turned political, with a clear agenda, in its second act. Frozen River, in contrast, is more holistic, keeping its message less devoid of overt sermonizing. In both films the main actor gives an Oscar-nominated performance.

When State Trooper Finnerty (Michael O'Keefe) comes to the store where Ray works, after she has made her first smuggling trip, her guilt is evident in her demeanor. But he is not here to arrest her. He is here to buy Christmas junk. Her lack of eye contact, her fearful shuffling around until he goes, should be enough to convince her that a run-in with the law is not what she wants. But Lila has told her that the State Troopers have no jurisdiction on the reservation and so the consequences are minimal -- a fine or a nominal jail-term.

Later Trooper Finnerty comes to her home to ask her some questions about Lila and to subtly warn her. Things are coming closer to home. But Ray's need for gifts and the double-wide are even more desperate, and she continues in this path of crime. Ray needs one more run just like an addict's one more fix.

When the finale approaches, things go badly wrong. The final pick-up is mishandled. They run into serious problems, and they are forced to foot it over the river. When they arrive at Lila's Mohawk reservation they face a legal dilemma, and Trooper Finnerty, and someone has to pay the price.

Although Frozen River has no happy ending, there is hope and there is redemption. Ray has come to realize that she is blessed with two healthy children, even if her husband has left her for good. And even if the dream of a brand new double-wide dissipates, she still has a home. Lila has come to realize she is empowered to move into her little boy's life. And the debacle of the smuggling has brought two mothers together in a relational bond that perhaps nothing apart from suffering could do. Suffering has a way of cutting through the dross to show the silver and gold lying below.

Frozen River is no typical movie. It shows clearly the consequences of poor choices. Sin catches up with the sinner. In life this often happens. We may want to solve our problems with a quick fix, but there are usually no quick fixes. What seems too good to be true is often so. There is usually no substitute for living correctly, even if it means we don't get what we want. God loves us and wants us to develop our characters more than our comforts. We have ample warning in the Bible against sinning. We should heed such warning.

Copyright ©2009, Martin Baggs

28 Weeks Later -- Promises kept, promises broken

Director: Juan Carlos Fresnadillo, 2007.

28 Weeks Later, the sequel to 28 Days Later, is helmed by Spaniard Fresnadillo, although Danny Boyle does direct some of the second-unit filming. The first movie was scary and chilling due to the unknown effects of the rage virus. But that is known now. Indeed, it works as an action film, but has more in common with Alien or The Lost Patrol, as a small group of survivors must make a journey while being killed one by one.

Where 28 Days Later focused on the impact of the Rage virus on the individual, showing the dramatic psychological consequences to both the infected and those running from the infected, 28 Weeks Later focuses on the impact of the virus on society in general. Unlike its predecessor, there is no hope or redemption here, not even a glimmer. It is a tale devoid of grace.

As the movie begins, Fresnadillo takes us back to the days of the original outbreak. Don (Robert Carlyle) and his wife Alice (Catherine McCormack) are living in a farmhouse with several other survivors. When they are attacked by the infected, Don and Alice are trapped in a bedroom. But one of the infected zombies breaks in; Don leaves Alice and flees through the window. Looking back he sees her pleas for help before she disappears.

Seven months later all the infected are dead from starvation. Britain has been declared ready for repopulation, and the Isle of Dogs area of London is the initial site for the return, order having been restored. The US Army is supervising this repatriation and is providing protection for these people, all of whom live in the towering apartment buildings. Stationed atop surrounding roofs, US soldiers perform permanent surveillance to ensure that no one leaves the safe area, and no one comes in.

Don is now caretaker of one of the towers and has AAA status -- all area access. His two children, 17 year-old Tammy (Imogen Poots) and 12 year-old Andy (Mackintosh Muggleton), survived the plague since they were in Spain at the outbreak, and they are reunited with their dad in this repopulation. Indeed, Andy is declared the youngest person in Britain, since they are the first children allowed back into the country.

When Don recounts the fate of their mother, he leaves out some key details. Naturally, the kids are devastated but Tammy promises Andy that she will never leave him, they will never be separated. Things hit home when Andy realizes he has trouble remembering Alice's face. He has no photographs to prompt recollection. Act one ends with Tammy and Andy sneaking out of the cordoned area to visit their old home, specifically to pick up clothes and photos.

If act one lays the groundwork and shows the social situation, act two kicks the action into gear. When a new survivor is brought into the quarantined city, the soldiers unwittingly allow the virus back. Scarlet (Rose Byrne from The Rage in Placid Lake), the US Major in charge of medical research, recognizes the problem and the potential. In a scene of ironic justice, Don becomes the first infected. Then before Scarlet can do anything, the virus is free, and the infected are multiplying again. The biggest question in this sequel is how the crazed and unthinking Don keeps showing up where his kids are, as though he is actually stalking them.

When panic breaks out and the infected run rampant, the US goes into code red: "Step 1: Kill the infected. Step 2: Containment. If containment fails, then Step 3: Extermination." Scarlet stays with Andy and Tammy, and along with infantry sniper Doyle (Jeremy Renner) and some no-name survivors, they need to flee the area and rendezvous with an escape helicopter across London. The scene is set for the chase and slow demise of this last platoon.

Although no more than an escapist gore-fest, 28 Weeks Later does make us review promises kept and broken. Don broke his sacred promise to Alice. His marriage vows presumably said something about promising to care for each in health and sickness. As husband, he was expected to protect her in times of danger. Yet, when death stared both in the face, he cowered and fled as a coward.

The original movie focused on the cost of survival. The cost in this one for Don was the loss of his wife and the guilt that plagued him afterwards. Was it the right thing to do? Would we have done any different if we were in his shoes? Would Don have been able to save them both? Although 28 Days Later showed survival as a core value, often causing one member to kill others, it did so in the context of them being infected. Don left Alice before she was infected simply to save himself.

If Don broke his marital promise, Tammy kept her sibling promise. She stayed with Andy, but at what cost. She remained true to her word and this may have resulted in devastating consequences.

This sibling promise reminds us of the promise of our "brother" Jesus (Mark 3:35). To those who choose to follow him he gave a promise: "And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age." (Matt. 28:20) He will never break that promise; it is one you can count on to be kept.

Copyright ©2009, Martin Baggs

28 Days Later -- rage, survival and hope

Director: Danny Boyle, 2002.

Boyle portrayed the psychological disintegration of one man (Christopher Eccleston) in his first film Shallow Grave. Here he presents the psychological disintegration of a whole nation and its apocalyptic consequence in this modern zombie movie.

The film starts with some animal rights activists breaking into a lab full of caged chimps. Discovered by one of the scientists he pleads with them not to release the animals since they have been infected with a virus that causes psychotic rage. Being idealists, they disbelieve the scientist to their and England's detriment.

28 days later Jim (Cillian Murphy, Scarecrow in Batman Begins) wakes up in a hospital bed naked and remembering nothing but a bike accident. Slowly he comes to realize there is no one there. The hospital is abandoned. Going outside he finds London abandoned empty and silent.

When he stumbles into a church he discovers a pile of dead bodies and a few living people. But these are barely people; they are irrational blood-crazed creatures seeking the living.

Meeting Selena (Naomie Harris) and Mark (Noah Huntley), they save him from these zombies and then explain that England has been overrun by a plague and there are few survivors. Living has taken on a different meaning: "Plans are pointless. Staying alive is as good as it gets." If the virus, carried in blood or body fluids, gets to you there are only 10 seconds before you become crazed and enraged.

The first act presents the disaster and the hero, Jim. Boyle chooses to use digital video cameras instead of film to capture the grittiness and emptiness of the post-apocalyptic urban landscape. And it works very effectively. There is a sense of immediacy in the filming which adds to the tension, giving us a "survivors eye" view.

28 Days Later is a tense chiller more than a horror movie. It has enough pace to keep the questions in check. But it never answers the question of why Jim was the only patient left in the hospital. Where did the others go? And why did the zombies not get to him, trapped as he was in bed with tubes and medical equipment constraining him? Moreover, where did all the corpses of the dead go? London was mostly devoid of the dead. And what happened to the rest of the world? Although, this question is left purposefully vague to allow a sequel.

The second act brings Selena and Jim into contact with Frank (Brendan Gleeson) and his daughter Hannah (Megan Burns). They are literally imprisoned in their apartment waiting for other survivors to find them. They have heard of a cure, but it is 200 miles north, a journey they would not make on their own. Taking his London taxi, they travel to the army compound that apparently has the cure. En route, Jim has to kill one of the infected. This is his "rite of passage" into this new kind of living.

In the final act, Jim, Selena and Hannah are brought into the country house turned into a fortified compound. But these normal army soldiers are not quite what they seem. Led by Major Henry West (Christopher Eccleston), they may not have the infection but they are not philanthropic. They have a pragmatic purpose indeed for summoning survivors. Zombies outside the gates, enemies within, Jim finds himself having to choose a careful course of action.

Jim and West are an interesting study in contrasts. Jim is at first naive ("What do you mean there's no government? There's always a government, they're in a bunker or a plane somewhere"), looking for someone to pass the buck to. West is cynical, it's just people killing people as it always is and always will be. Jim's transition from denial to acceptance occurs when he himself kills. Killing is nothing new to West. Jim, the hero, is chivalric, especially in the castle, where chivalry usually has its home. He wants to protect his two friends. West is pragmatic in his command. he wants to protect his men.

Boyle rejected the normal notions of the zombie genre, the living dead eating the living, to focus on the current generation's fear of diseases, such as Ebola. The rage virus didn't leave its victims dead physically, but psychologically. Once infected there remains no trace of the original person. All that remains is a homicidal maniac, dripping and spewing blood.
Rage, too, is a key issue that Boyle wants to address. This uncontrollable rage is a metaphor for the societal problem of rage and anger prevalent today. We see it evidenced in the anger that surfaces from the frustrations of impersonality and inequity. It is on the nightly news in the form of road rage, with drivers shooting other drivers. Anger itself is a legitimate emotion but how it is manifested can be righteous or sinful. Jesus became angry in a righteous sense when he entered the Temple in Jerusalem and saw the grounds turned into a marketplace of corruption (Matt. 21:12-13). In his anger, he overturned tables, forced the moneylenders out of the grounds, even using a whip to make this happen (Jn. 2:13-17). Yet, there is an anger that is sinful. Paul says, "In your anger do not sin" (Eph. 4:26). Then he goes further and declares, "Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger" (Eph. 4:31). Anger must not master us.

Ultimately, though, the issue at the heart of this film is that of survival at what cost. Boyle rips away the veneer of civilization to show what is in the heart of humanity. The zombies may be rage-filled psychopaths, but their humanity is gone, taken by the virus. The living, on the other hand, display the savagery of true human nature. Even Jim transforms into a killer. When the chips are down it is kill or be killed. Survival is a primal instinct. But would we kill a human, not a zombie, in the name of survival? This is a picture of the darkness of the human heart in even the best of men (Jer. 17:9).

Like Trainspotting, though, Boyle ends with a ray of hope. There is a glint of redemption in the choices Jim makes in the final conflict. Though he will kill to save himself, he will not become like the soldiers, worse than the zombies, in their blatant sinful actions. He chooses a sacrificial path, one seeking others over self. Grace is present even in the midst of desperation. And grace inspires hope.

Copyright ©2009, Martin Baggs