Tag: movie reviews

Nolan’s Odyssey wants it both ways and gets neither

We saw The Odyssey (2026) last night. I give Christopher Nolan credit for making a nearly three-hour film that moves briskly. It was entertaining throughout. It had a few good characters, and some scenes and bits I truly enjoyed, including some that Nolan made up. It was not discernibly woke. But overall, I left the theater frustrated and sour.

I set myself to watch the movie on its own terms, and I was prepared for it to be a modern take. The whole reason we still read the Odyssey is because it is so rich, you can keep returning to it at different times in different contexts, and come away with something new. I have no issue with going to a deep well and pulling up one drink and savoring just that. 

But there’s a difference between going, “Let’s look at just one facet of this immense story” and “Let’s fix this old thing up so it’s meaningful.” Nolan did the latter. But he kept butting up against the immensity of the story itself, and his retelling ended up not making even internal sense. 

In the beginning and at the end, they make a point of saying that nobody will remember what really happened, and by the time events becomes story and song, the details will be forgotten. So the movie sets itself up not just to be a retelling, but to be the one that sets the record straight: Here is what really happened (including the idea that Helen was just an excuse to start the Trojan war, and the real reasons were purely political). But that’s not only arrogant, it’s cowardly, because it also plants the seed that it’s not really possible to remember things accurately, and if you don’t like it, well, maybe it’s not what really happened. 

This is the movie’s main flaw: It does not commit. It wants things both ways. It wants to be a bold new telling of a dusty old story, that uncovers what was really going on in the hearts of heroes; but it also wants to hide its messy bits in ambiguity, and if you have any questions about what something actually means or why someone actually did something, well, poetry is like that, and who can say. 

The other major flaw — and this one was more obviously and painfully evident — was the dialogue, which was absurdly terrible. Using modern language is fine. Telemachus calls his parents “mom” and “dad,” and Odysseus says “Ten years on this fucking beach,” and that’s fine. This kind of thing can work. The problem was that every single line in the movie — every one! — was stilted, dull, and forgettable. The worst lines were the ones that were set up to be dramatically profound. At least three times while I watched, I asked myself, ” . . . wait, what does that actually mean?” I can’t quote the specific lines for you, because I can’t remember them. If you’ve been on Tumblr, though, you can imagine the tone. 

So let’s step back for a moment. This movie sets out to explore the idea of trauma. In this telling, the reason Odysseus takes ten years to get home is sort of because the gods are punishing him, but also because he has violated his own internal ethics; but he is unable to face up to the ramifications of how much evil humanity is capable of, and he’s simply not ready to go home yet. This is a valid and interesting idea for a story! 

But guys. It was Matt Damon. He was just not up to it. The movie wanted to be “what if Odysseus were a tortured and guilty man with interior demons to overcome” but it was actually “What if Odysseus were boring?” 

So many people were annoyed that this telling of the Odyssey made Odysseus kind of small — small in stature, pointy of face, not especially charismatic or kingly — and that the landscape is so heavy and dreary, rather than sparkling and lovely. I think that was on purpose: It was supposed to be giving us a world where self doubt, grief, guilt, and regret are what make Odysseus go (or not go). This may have been interesting! It’s not as if ancient Greece shies away from the idea tragedy or human flaws.

But this is only a worthwhile take if it enlightens anything. And nothing was enlightened.

Yet it still managed to be painfully didactic. Nolan juggles an impressive number of flashbacks and non-linear storytelling, and it is all skillfully woven together so you can easily track what happened when. In fact, it was too skillfully done. It felt like watching a movie in class, and the teacher keeps pressing pause and saying, “Ok, now pay attention, guys. This is the part where we first understand why Odysseus is sad! Okay, now let’s watch.” It was so overt, I was insulted. 

The movie’s strongest points were the action sequences, and these were where I came the closest to losing myself in the movie. The sack of Troy was wonderful, engaging and frightening and horrible. The cyclops sequence was fantastic. I liked where they were going with Circe as a sort of embittered cat lady, and the way she physically labored to transform the men into pigs was truly scary. 

Menelaus was fun, and embodied the character well. Antinous was very convincing as a scheming creep. Eumaus was decent and sympathetic. Telemachus was okay. Helen was fine, and her being black was not startling and did no violence to the plot, but she is by no means a major character. Calypso (Charlize Theron) is some kind of J. Crew model-turned-holistic-therapist, and she got a massive amount of screen time. This was an important part of how the movie was framed, as a time for Odysseus to come to terms with what he has done, and to decide how he wants to live going forward. Again, this is not an outrageous idea, and its’ worth exploring. 

But . . . they don’t really explore it. Everything that is bothering poor Matt Damon is chalked up to Zeus’ Law, which the characters reference incessantly. Mostly it means hospitality, but it’s also shorthand for the golden rule, fair play, piety, and possibly the Geneva Conventions. It’s not really clear. I think the general idea was this is a world that works as long as people behave decently, and when they don’t, things go bad, and it turns out Odysseus is one of the guys who sometimes doesn’t behave decently. I don’t have a quibble with this, but it’s not as groundbreaking an idea as it thinks it is. It felt, in fact, dated. It was a reframing that would have seemed daring and transgressive in the mid-90’s.

They really wanted it to be more than an action movie, so they kept stealing the glory and satisfaction out of the action, to show that there was more going on than meets the eye. So you, a willing and attentive viewer, look closer . . . and there’s just not much there. Really just Matt Damon. And I’m sorry, I like Matt Damon, but the role they set him up to play was an extremely complex and contradictory man, and he just didn’t do it. 

I wish they had just made it an action movie, instead of trying and failing to get clever with it all. The closest I cam to losing myself in the movie was during the action sequences. When he strings his bow and plucks it, that’s probably the best few seconds in the whole movie, and it’s the perfect spot for a turn and a massive, cathartic redemption of everything we’ve all just been through. I thought, Okay, we’re finally getting into the final part which will make everything else fall into place and redeem all the ambiguity we’ve been wallowing around in so far. And I thought it was going to! I could have done without the “rising panic of a swarm of bees” sound that they use several times in the movie to indicate (with a heavy club) tension, but the slaughter of the suitors scene really is satisfying and thrilling. They were so rotten, and he came back and put it all to rights! He killed ’em good! 

And then things disintegrate again. They collapse back into ambivalence and portentous ambiguity. Penelope recognizes him, but there is no marriage bed built from a living tree. Instead, we briefly see that her throne has a tree carved into it. The best reading I can make of this is that their marriage and the kingdom and . . . I don’t know, Things That Matter, endure because we decide to make them matter. The worst reading, which I fear is the intended one, is that we use poetry and song and art to craft an appealing version of our lives and of the world, but the truth is actually always something much more flimsy and precarious. 

We didn’t sit through all the credits, but I would absolutely believe you if you told me there was a little coda where Odysseus and Penelope spend some time in intensive therapy, possibly with Calypso as their gracious host, and they eventually decide that a conscious uncoupling rooted in mutual respect and accountability would be healthier for everyone involved. 

Have I mentioned Anne Hathaway as Penelope? I think she does the absolute best acting she is capable of, and good for her. Her posture is excellent throughout, and her hair looks really nice. 

But I have not yet talked about the gods.  

Again, I was ready to accept a bold reimagining of this world that doesn’t have visible gods in it, except for Athena. In the original, they aren’t even visible that often, and frequently act by stirring up the emotions of various characters and making them overcome with fear, panic, lust, etc. The idea that the gods represent psychological realities of humans is not exactly groundbreaking. 

But once again, the movie hedges its bets and ends up with something incoherent, and much lesser than it could have been. In the movie, the gods are real(ish) because the characters basically believe they are real; but it doesn’t know how to make the characters both relatable and pious. So it makes the gods not only invisible and inscrutable, but into a sort of psychological cover story for interior choices; and those are definitely real. Athena seems to appear when Odysseus needs the gods to be real.

Again, this is okay, if that’s what they want to do! This is a retelling, and they can do what they want, as long as they do it well. 

And they do not.

Look. If you’re building a world, you have to be consistent. If they are going to make the gods into just a collective cultural framework that explains human psychology and ethics, then WHY THE FRACK ARE THERE REAL MONSTERS? Why are supernatural things only really real when they’re scary? 

I know the answer! It’s the old Dante problem: It’s way easier to depict a compelling and interesting Inferno than it is a compelling and interesting Paradiso. So yeah, it’s easier to make a movie with an otherworldly cyclops, and giants, and witch, than it is to make an otherworldly pantheon. So he just skips the pantheon. But the great irony is, when Nolan does literally depict the inferno — when Odysseus goes to Hades to talk to Tiresius, and he meets Sinon and some of his other men — it’s boring as heck. You can’t even tell exactly when they arrive in Hades. It’s just, like, the worst beach ever, and the shades aren’t creepy. They’re unpleasant, and they’re definitely grumpy, but they’re just basically guys who are extremely dirty.

So this is a world that does have otherworldly, transcendental elements, except when it comes to mankind. 

The story has no numinosity, at all. It’s not even sexy, which is crazy! It’s not just that it’s so gritty and dark and I don’t like that, and I wish they had more pretty, sparkling, glorious parts. It’s that it wants you to understand that there is more than meets the eye to this and that . . . but it never tells you what that more might be. I truly don’t think it knows. 

*******

Image:
Matt Damon as Odysseys and Zendaya as Athena in Christopher Nolan’s The Odyssey (2026)

Fisher Family Mandatory Lent Film Party limps on!

The Fisher Family Mandatory Lent Film Party! It’s our annual Lenten tradition, except sometimes we don’t do it. This year, we’re sort of doing it. The idea is that we have screen-free evenings in Lent, but on Fridays, we cordially insist the kids join us in watching a movie that has spiritual or moral themes, and which we expect to be worth watching for one reason or another — and which we probably wouldn’t get around to watching otherwise. You can find I think a few dozen previous reviews at the Lent Film Party tag. 

So far this year, we have watched two very different movies: Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison and A Man For All Seasons. We paid $3.99 each to rent these on Amazon Prime, but they’re both available on other platforms as well right now.

Here are some quickie reviews!

Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison (1957) 
where to watch

I had no idea what to expect from this movie, but since it has Deborah Kerr as a young Irish nun and Robert Mitchum as a hard-bitten marine, and they’re both stranded on the same South Pacific island, I kind of assumed smoochiness would ensue. I will spoil it for you: They do not end up together. 

It’s a John Huston movie, but it’s no African Queen or Treasure of the Sierra Madre. There’s nothing wrong with it; it’s just not that deep. The story moves along fine, there is a decent amount of suspense, and you do wonder what will happen to the characters. It’s very nice to see the faith, and holy orders, being explained simply but clearly by an intelligent, admirable woman. And Robert Mitchum is always fun to watch. 

And that’s it! It’s a reasonably entertaining movie that more or less held our interest. It’s hard to imagine anyone making this movie today without cramming in a romantic entanglement (although Wake Up Dead Man managed, come to think of it. I HIGHLY RECOMMEND WAKE UP DEAD MAN, BY THE WAY.) There was not much to talk about after Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison, but most of us liked it well enough. Here’s the trailer, which is a little goofy, but gives the general idea. 

 

Suitable for all but very sensitive viewers. It has a little violence, nothing gory, and lots of shooting and bombs falling, and Mr. Allison gets drunk at one point. I feel like it shows a Japanese soldier’s butt cheek at one point. 

***

A Man For All Seasons (1966)
where to watch

This movie deserves all the hype.

First, the casting is impeccable, and the acting is thoroughly persuasive. Robert Shaw (whom my kids know as Quint from Jaws) is tremendous as Henry VIII. You feel like you’ve definitely met this guy, and this is exactly how he would act if he were the king (bad); and Damien says that, as far as he can tell, the portrayal is pretty historically accurate. But also the wife, the daughter, the son-in-law, the friend, the traitor, and of course the exceedingly unhealthy cardinal (Orson Welles) are all fully formed characters who deliver subtle, compelling performances.

So too, most of all, does Paul Scofield as Thomas More, who comes across as kind of a pain in the ass who is aware he is annoying people, but truly can’t help being who he is, and putting who he is thoroughly in God’s service. (This is a message that was kind of good for me to hear right now, for reasons.) But the acting is good enough that you can really see his distress toward the end, as he struggles to convey his motivation to his family, even as he sees them suffering because of it. Lots of under-the-surface emotions portrayed in several characters. 

I also appreciated seeing a saint who is heroically holy without being scrupulous or self-immolating. He doesn’t want to die! He wants to live, and keeps looking for ways to stay alive in ways that won’t violate his conscience. Sort of reminds me of Gianna Molla. So many people believe she found out she had cancer and immediately embraced or even pursued death as a sacrifice for her baby. In fact, she hoped all along that they would both survive. An often-misunderstood point about sainthood.  I also like how he makes room for other people’s weaknesses. He sees through his son-in-law, but allows his daughter to marry him anyway. He recognizes that the law only requires him to pay a certain fare, but when the boatman tells him it’s harder to row upstream, he pays him more than he’s required to. He has such high standards for himself, and so much compassion for everyone else. 

The dialogue requires you to listen attentively. They speak quickly and they say a LOT (it was originally a play). This is the part the kids struggled with the most. There’s a lot of talking, but the dialogue is all carefully crafted and illuminating, well worth paying attention to, and sometimes pretty funny.

The pacing works perfectly, but you have to allow it to not be an action movie. I thought it was important that they show people in great haste and agitation — but still having to row laboriously up and down the Thames, sometimes throughout the night, to deliver urgent messages. That illustrates one of the themes of the movie, which is having to work within the framework (or season?) you are given. That’s what Thomas More does: He is who he is, and that’s what he has to work with. The world is as it is, and you have to understand it thoroughly in order to discern how to behave morally. I need to develop this thought more — something about the tension between what changes and what is unchangeable —  but I’d need to see the movie again. 

Anyway, the settings and most of all the costumes were so fabulous, I almost passed out. I would absolutely watch this movie again with no sound, just to stare at the various fabrics. I also admired how comfortable the characters seemed in the period clothing. They wore them like clothing, not costumes. Same for the setting. They seemed really at home in the 16th century, and not just moving around in a museum. 

All that said, most of my teenagers and young adults didn’t think much of it. They didn’t like the characters, they got frustrated at all the talking, and they wanted more exciting things to happen. This is more or less how I felt about the movie when I was a teenager. My 15-year-old daughter, however, was spellbound, and didn’t take her eyes of the screen the whole time. She found the drama moving and compelling. So, I guess it depends on the kid! 

It’s suitable for all ages, although my youngest (age 11) fell asleep halfway through. It might possibly be upsetting for sensitive viewers toward the end, when Thomas More is in a dungeon and has an emotional final visit with his family. And of course it is a martyrdom story, and it does have that scene. You don’t see the death, but you hear it. 

This is a pretty thin review of a great movie, but so much in-depth commentary has been written about it, I’ll just urge you to watch or re-watch it. It was much more entertaining than I remembered, and gave me a lot to think about, even though I’m already very familiar with the story. Some of it felt extremely relevant to 2026 — this scene in particular (starting about 1:51)

“Where would you hide, Robert, the laws all being flat? This country is planted thick with laws, coast to coast. Man’s laws, not God’s; and if you cut them down …  do you really think you could stand upright in the winds that would blow then?”

Yeah, go watch it! So good. 

Not sure what we’ll watch next. I would like to finally watch Of Gods and Men, which I haven’t seen, and I would like the kids to finally see The Passion of the Christ, which they’ve been resisting, but out of sheer honesty, if they can sit through Nosferatu and other gross stuff, they can watch this one. Out of sheer honesty. 

 

 

Fisher Family Mandatory Lent Film Party returns! #1: The Rabbi’s Cat

As we limp our way through another Lent, we’re continuing the annual tradition of gathering the kids for a movie on Friday nights. (This goes along with our other Lent and Advent tradition of going screen-free from 7:00-9:00.) The movie doesn’t have to be overtly religious, but it should have some spiritual theme (not necessarily Christian). We aim for movies we have reason to believe are well-crafted (a “good message” is not enough!), but if we miss that mark, we can at least talk about why it was bad, and whether there were any good parts. 

For reference, the kids at home are now ages 21, 19, 17, 15, 13, and 10. In a pretty naked appeal to the masses, I started this year’s Mandatory Film Party with a 2011 animated French film called The Rabbi’s Cat, directed by Joann Sfar and Antoine Delesvaux, based on Sfar’s comics series. It is set in 1920’s Algeria, and is mostly in French, with nicely clear English subtitles.

Here’s a trailer:

Okay, so this is not a kid’s movie; but it’s also not quite as goofy as the trailer makes it look. It has some pretty graphic murder (although the victims had it coming), a little bit of obvious but not graphic nudity and sex (between married people who are dizzily in love), and I was a little taken aback at how horny the animators clearly were for the rabbi’s daughter, Zlabya. There is also a short, disturbingly slapstick interlude where one character explains through illustration how he escaped violent pogroms in Russia and stowed away to Algeria inside a crate of sacred books. 

I just mention all this for full disclosure, but the general tone of the movie is . . . well, the main character is a cat, who is very cat-like in his worldview. He leads a comfortable life as the coddled pet of the rabbi’s daughter, and gains the gift of speech after eating their parrot. He becomes obsessed with being bar mitzvah’d, initially for ignoble reasons, and the rabbi grudgingly agrees to teach him what he needs to know.

Through a series of friendships and encounters, the rabbi and cat end up setting out through the desert, with the starry-eyed Russian painter, an evil Russian exile, a learned Moslem sheikh, and a warmly self-assured black African waitress, under the combined flag with the Mogen David nestled into the Imperial two-headed Russian eagle, because the painter has a dream that, somewhere in Africa, there is a glorious city of black Jews where everyone lives in peace and harmony. 

This turns out not to be accurate! But you can’t help but feel that they have sorta kinda meanwhile made a brotherly city in their weird little caravan, where everyone ardently believes what they believe, but makes room for other people’s lives? That makes it sound preachy, which the movie definitely is not. If anything, it is a little too comfortable sort of shrugging its cinematic shoulders and casually wondering who can say what’s possible. 

It’s odd, because it very explicitly brings up hugely contentious questions, like “Which is better, Islam or Judaism?” and “Who is a Jew?” and it just . . . shrugs. The people who can shrug survive, and those who can’t, don’t. But it does it in a way that feels real for the characters. It’s super comic book-y, but also hits on something very familiar and relevant: The question of how to sort through what is and is not indispensable about their identities, and their relationships with God and with each other.

The movie also has something on its mind about speech and language, but it’s not really developed, unless I’m missing something. The cat learns to speak, then loses that power after he obstinately invokes the name of God, who he doesn’t really believe in, to help the rabbi pass his French language test. Then the cat can mysteriously speak Russian, so he converses with the painter; and eventually he gets his speech back, and I forget whether this is before or after he has some kind of epiphany about God. It’s hard to say whether God is real in the movie or not, but he’s definitely real to some of the characters. 

I honestly can’t say whether my vagueness on various plot points is my fault for not paying close attention, or just because the film is so hard to pin down. But if it sounds like I didn’t like it, I’m telling it wrong. I cannot overstate how charming and entertaining and gorgeous and exciting the whole thing was, from start to finish. We absolutely just went with the ambiguities, because it was so fully a pleasure to see and hear, from the opening credits to the end. The music, the animation, the dialogue, the COLORS, and the way so many sequences were framed, were all a nonstop feast. And the colors! 

It was also very funny, with the whole family laughing out loud several times. There is also a completely unexpected cameo which I don’t want to spoil, but it was one of the funniest things I’ve seen on screen for some time. 

Was this a good Lent Film Party film? Ehh, maybe not so much, but it was definitely a movie worth watching. Best for kids high school age and up. (My kids are irreversibly corrupt already, so I didn’t feel terrible that the younger kids watched it.)

***

Next: We are thinking of watching A Hidden Life, but last year we watched The Tree of Life and every single one of us conceived a seething and enduring hatred of Terrence Malick. I have never been so disappointed in a film in my life. It had so much promise, and so much skill went into it, and it got such fervently great reviews, and it turned itself into a ludicrously trite and ambiguous vehicle for stock images that would have been at home in a commercial for Charles Schwab. Boy, did we hate that long, long movie. We bonded over how much we hated it.

And A Hidden Life is also very long. What should we do? Is this one more narratively cohesive? It is Tree Of Life-y, or is it different? If Tree of Life is 10/10 Malicks, how many would you rate Hidden Life?

I also bought a DVD of the miniseries Pope John Paul II, with Karol W(I ain’t lookin that up) played by Cary Elwes, about whom the kids broke my heart by saying, “Oh, he was in Saw!” rather than, “Oh, he was in Princess Bride!” (I told you they were corrupt.) So, tell me what you know about this miniseries, because it would probably be a two-nighter because of its length. It’s okay if it’s not a cinematic masterpiece; it just can’t be a turkey.

***

Oh, we watched The Rabbi’s Cat on Kanopy. Looks like you can also rent it on Apple TV+.

Here’s a list of the other movies we’ve watched for Lent in past years, with links to ReelGood so you can see where to stream them, and my review (if any):

Noah (2014)
where to stream 
My review

The Passion of Joan of Arc (1928)
where to stream
My review 

Lilies of the Field (1963) 
where to stream
 (My longer review here)

The Secret of Kells (2009) 
where to stream
 (My longer review here) 

Saint Philip Neri: I Prefer Heaven
available via Formed
 (My longer review here)

The Miracle Maker (1999)
where to stream
 (My longer review here) 

The Jeweller’s Shop (1989)
available via Formed
 (My longer review here)

The Reluctant Saint: The Story of Joseph of Cupertino (1963)
available via Formed
(My longer review here)

Fiddler on the Roof (1971)
where to stream
 (My longer review here)

The Scarlet and the Black (1983)
where to stream
 (My longer review here)

Boys Town (1938)
where to stream
 (My longer review here)

Fatima (2020)
where to stream
(My longer review here)

The Song of Bernadette (1943)
where to stream
 (My longer review here) 

Ushpizin (2005)
where to stream
 (My longer review here) 

Calvary (2014)
where to stream

I Confess (1953)
where to stream
(My longer review here) 

The Robe (1953)
where to stream
(My longer review here)

The Trouble With Angels (1966)
where to stream
 (My longer review here) 

Babette’s Feast (1987)
where to stream
 (My longer review here)

The Passion of the Christ (2004)
where to stream
(My full review here)

There Be Dragons (2011)
where to stream
(my longer review here) 

The Prince of Egypt (1998)
where to stream

 

 

 

Lent Film Party Review: NOAH

Noah (2014) was a terrible movie. Help me figure out why we liked it anyway. 

This is the second (yes, that’s all we’ve managed to watch so far) in this year’s Friday Night Mandatory Lent Film Party series. Last time, we watched The Passion of Joan of Arc, so I figured the kids would appreciate a “real movie” (i.e., in color, no subtitles, and, yanno, Russel Crowe). We had never seen this movie, and I’ve always been curious about why some people hate it so much, so we went for it. 

Here’s the trailer, which is a fair representation, except it doesn’t include rock monsters:

The movie is apparently based not only on Genesis, but I guess on the book on Enoch, and also just . . . movie stuff. I’m sorry, I’m not going to research which parts are scholarly and which were just made up, because that’s not the part I’m interested in. I believe there really was a cataclysmic flood (many cultures have mentioned it) and that a holy man built an boat and saved his family and a bunch of animals. I also believe the story of Noah in Genesis is a myth, in the sense that it was written to convey something true about God and his relationship with man, and is not meant to be taken literally. 

One thing I know, the story of Noah is not a children’s story (despite all the play sets and nursery decor people produce because of the animals and the rainbow). It’s actually incredibly violent and baffling. So I’m happy to report that this movie is also violent and baffling. Some of the baffling stuff is because the movie doesn’t really make internal sense, and part is because the writers don’t know what to do with a story about someone trying to make sense of the will of God while also having free will. But, I also don’t know what to do with that. I guess that’s ultimately why I liked it: Because it doesn’t make anything coherent out the story, but it does take the unavoidable problems seriously. 

That being said, this movie was a mess. 

[COPIOUS SPOILERS AHEAD]

In Genesis, God speaks very clearly to Noah, even telling him the most precise specs on how to build in the ark. In the movie, God refuses to speak except through ambiguous prophetic dreams, and this lack of clarity causes anguish to Noah and others. Supernatural things happen a lot, and it’s impossible to tell what they portend, except in hindsight. Noah thinks God wants him to save his family and the animals so the world can start fresh. Noah’s grandfather, Methuselah, gives them a seed from Eden, and when he plants it, springs well up out of the ground and instantly make a flourishing forest grow, and these are the trees the rock monsters cut down to build the ark. (Yes, I will get back to the rock monsters.)  

Noah has three sons, and the daughter they adopted as a child, who eventually marries the oldest son, but is barren. He also has an enemy, the king Tubal-cain, who killed Noah’s father in the beginning of the movie. As the flood looms and Noah has built the ark and the animals are safely inside and in some kind of coma, Noah goes to find wives for his other two sons, but the people are so degenerate (I think they are eating each other? It was hard to say) that he decides he has the wrong idea about what God wants, and he intends to wipe out mankind entirely and give the earth over to the animals. 

The second son, Ham, meets and greatly desires an innocent girl who’s been cast out by Tubal-cain’s people, but as the floods come, Noah rescues only Ham and leaves the girl to be trampled because he doesn’t want there to be any more children born.

BUT THEN, we find out that Noah’s wife has previously gone to Methuselah–

okay, let me pause and just belly laugh about Methuselah. I think this was the dumbest part of the whole movie. The dude lives in this cave on top of a mountain and it’s apparently like, a forty-minute stroll away from the ark? But they only go see him every few decades. Which is perhaps understandable, because’s he’s very clearly just Anthony Hopkins in a wig, and it’s incredibly awkward. 

— anyway, he mystically arranges for Shem’s wife, Ila, to become fertile, and she immediately gets pregnant. Which is how the rest of the family discovers that Noah isn’t rescuing them in order to save mankind; he’s taking them all on a kind of elaborate death cruise, and he now believes that, when the baby is born, if it’s a girl, God will want him to kill her. This makes for some tension on board!

There is also the other complication that Ham is so mad at Noah for not letting him have a wife that he has rescued Tubal-cain, and secretly keeps him on board. Tubal-cain introduces him to the notion of eating animals, which is repugnant to Noah’s family. In fact, it is Tubal-cain who tells Ham (while gnawing on a live lizard) some of the few lines actually quoted from Genesis: That man is supposed to subdue the earth and have dominion over it. 

Interestingly, Tubal-cain, like Noah, has also been struggling with God and is in anguish because God does not speak to him as he used to do. But Tubal-cain decides that the answer is to take charge, whereas Noah tries very hard to do what he thinks, according to his best guess, is what God wants. Just as the ark hits a newly-uncovered mountaintop, Ila has what turns out to be twin baby girls, and Noah finds he can’t kill them. He lowers his dagger and instead kisses the babies on the head, he tells God that he can’t do it. 

The movie is extremely muddled, here. It does seem, right throughout the movie, that God wants some specific course of action, and does not want others. But he doesn’t ever let on what it might be; and Noah isn’t supposed to rebel against God, exactly, but he’s also not supposed to just do what he thinks best, exactly? The difference between him and Tubal-cain (other than that Noah is clean and has nice Russel Crowe eyes; and Tubal-cain is gross and murdery) is that Noah is trying, whereas Tubal-cain has decided he’s going to do what he wants. There are several points in the movie where doing your best according to your conscience seems to be admired; but also, Tubal-cain definitely seems predestined to be evil, so I don’t know. They land on a very squashy message about . . . I can’t even remember, something about how love is the answer. 

But I salute them for recognizing what a profoundly hard question it is. What does God want? How do we follow his will? What if it’s something that seems like it’s the opposite of what people are supposed to want? They don’t answer these questions, but at least they ask them. 

I forgot to tell you about the rock monsters (“Watchers”), which are fallen angels (?) who were cast down to earth because they helped Adam and Eve, and when they landed they got this gunky rock stuck to their angelic bodies (?). They see the magical forest that grows from the Eden seed and decide they will help Noah, so they build the ark and defend Noah’s family. 

The rock monsters also apparently have a choice, and can be redeemed from their rebellion (?) against God, and at the end they go shooting up into the heavens like some kind of rocket-powered Transformers. Again, it wasn’t ever brought into focus, but there was a vague idea of salvation as something that’s always available to everybody, or something. 

I don’t really have a problem with the rock monsters. They were silly, but I liked them, and they almost freaking made sense. Maybe there really were little weird doggy pangolin creatures trotting around, and maybe there were all kinds of healing salves and animal coma smokes and at-home pregnancy tests that we don’t have anymore. Maybe there really was a weird mishmash of technology and primitivism and a strawberry-loving Anthony Hopkins.

Again, they answered the question very poorly, but at least they asked a decent question, which was: What did the world look like, after Eden but not very long after, and not only before the Incarnation but before the flood? What does life look like when things are being revealed, but they’re not revealed yet? It’s a good question, and it took some guts to tackle it. 

The movie was quite beautiful in many places. I loved the rather arty scene depicting creation, and then later the scene showing the potential for the restoration of creation. There is some mention of the waters below the earth meeting the waters above it to make the flood, and this is how the flood comes about: Huge geysers punch their way up out of the ground and combine with the punishing rainfall. Soo o o o there is some suggestion that from Eden comes both the downfall of the earth (in the form of the threatening waters) and its salvation (in the form of the ark). Which is not wrong! There’s something there! It’s just quite incoherent. But the film seems to sense there is meaning there, even if it’s not fully developed. 

I wish the dialogue had been written to be less pedestrian, and I wish it had had a cast of nobodies. I found the all-star cast to be distracting and off-putting, which may be a me problem, but I just don’t really need to see Emma Watson screaming for two hours. Also, I didn’t recognize the actor playing Ham, but every time I saw him, I thought he was Reese from Malcolm In the Middle. Again, surely a me problem.  

I deliberately didn’t read any reviews of this movie, but I’m going to do so now and see what smarter people had to say. If you’ve seen it, I’m so interested to know what you guys thought! I should note that Damien thought it was complete crap with no redeeming qualities, and it was mostly me and the kids who thought there was anything to talk about. 

We did let the nine-year-old watch it, but it was pretty violent, had some fleeting sexy scenes, you hear the mother screaming quite a bit as she gives birth, and — well heck, it’s not a kids’s story, as I said. I was kind of relieved that the nine-year-old fell asleep after the first hour or so. Also definitely needs some discretion for credulous viewers who think movies based on the Bible are always accurate. 

Mandatory Lent Film Party, 2024: The Passion of Joan of Arc

Every Lent for the last few years, we’ve been watching a worthwhile, faith-related movie together as a family on Friday nights. (Full list at the end.)

The tradition continues! And, in keeping with tradition, right out of the gate we didn’t manage to do it on the first Friday of Lent, but instead started The Passion of Joan of Arc (1928) on Saturday, had some streaming issues, and finished watching it Sunday. 

Maybe you’re thinking to yourself, “MY family would never watch a weird French black-and-white silent film from the 20’s, much less one that got broken up into two nights.” You may be surprised. This is an absolutely enthralling movie. My youngest kid is eight, and she sat there gripping my arm the whole time, and when it was over, she just said, “Wow.” 

It follows Joan’s last week or so of life, from her trial at the hands of her captors, until her execution. The historically accurate synopsis is simply: Joan is interrogated, threatened, and tormented as the English and their French collaborators try to get her to sign a document repudiating her actions leading a revolt against the English. She eventually breaks down and complies, and is sentenced to life in prison, but she regrets her moment of weakness, takes it back, and is burned at the stake. 

You might think of silent film as relying on exaggerated, histrionic facial distortions, with tossed heads and fluttering fingers, pantomime and rolling eyes meant to stand in for dialogue, but that’s not how this works. It does spend most of the film disconcertingly close to individual faces, with the camera at an odd, discomfitingly low angle, looking up at faces from about chin level.

At first I was reminded of the grotesque faces in so many paintings of Jesus being mocked — Hieronymous Bosch or many others.

 

But the faces of her tormenters are not actually grotesques. Instead, when you see them leering or smirking or looking outraged or disgusted, it’s just showing humanity at its recognizable worst.

Some pieces of dialogue are displayed on the screen, in French and in English, enough to keep you current with the story. An incredible complexity of emotion is displayed on screen, so although you often see the actors moving their lips and you don’t hear anything but the musical soundtrack, you don’t feel like you’re missing anything. The story and dialogue are taken directly from the contemporary account of her actual trial. 

The backgrounds are very spare, with light and shadow making up the most important shapes on screen (although the sets and the costume are painstakingly accurate). Much is made of people passing by windows and in and out of shadow, and appearing in doorways. You could have convinced me the film, with its minimalism and startling angles, was shot in in the 1950’s, rather than in 1928. There is so little on screen besides human faces, every object that appears — especially the woven grass crown that follows Joan around —  takes on a gripping significance; and when she is allowed to hold a crucifix as she is led up to her execution space, she cradles it so gratefully and lovingly, and you FEEL that. 

You also feel how horrific it is when, previously, they try to coerce her into recanting, showing her the Eucharist — and then, when she refuses, they put the host away again, blow out the candles, and leave her to herself.  

I thought many times of people who believe they are following their conscience, and find themselves rejected by the Church, or with people who say they represent the Church. Joan is entirely focused on Jesus, her king; and as soon as her captors understand that she really is devoted to him, they use it against her, and try to coerce her literally with Jesus. It’s horrible. This movie isn’t anti-Church, I don’t think. It doesn’t seem to be trying to convey the idea that the hierarchy is by definition cruel. It does show what happens when you follow Jesus, and when you don’t. 

It includes the historically accurate charges against her, that she offends God by wearing men’s clothes, and that she must be guilty of witchcraft; but it doesn’t veer into territory that would surely be unavoidable if it had been made today: You don’t come away with the impression that these evil, patriarchal men are tormenting her because they can’t abide a strong female lead. It does show that they’re evil, but it’s because they don’t recognize holiness, and they don’t love or recognize the Lord. And they’re willing to use Jesus as a weapon. 

There are several different musical scores that accompany different versions of this film. The one we saw, from Criterion, had “Voices of Light” by Richard Einhorn, written in 1994, and I can’t imagine an improvement. It sounded both hauntingly modern and bracingly medieval, and it sometimes underscores the emotion on screen, but sometimes provides an emotional counterpoint or contrast that heightens the sense of seeing the action from a perspective perhaps beyond the natural world. Worth listening to on its own. 

In the first part, Jane is feverish and her eyes bug out in an unnatural fashion that is exhausting to watch, but after she has been bled, threatened with torture, and interrogated some more, her eyelids droop more and more, and you can’t help but internally mirror her. Although the camera isn’t from Joan’s perspective, the experience of the film is not a normal viewer experience., where the viewer watches a story unfold. It is an ordeal, in some ways, but a bracingly compelling one, that makes you feel like something is happening to you. You don’t want to look away, as you might during, for instance, The Passion of the Christ; instead, you find yourself straining all your senses so as to be as present as possible in what feels like a real encounter with something beyond a story. It’s not that it’s so realistic (although the camera seeks out every pore, hair, wrinkle, and tear on every face). It feels instead like something you remember or something you dreamed about: Not realistic, but more intimate than reality. 

Before and during her execution, the camera pans past the faces in the crowd, and you see there, as you did earlier with the judges, bald human emotion, frailty, pain, regret, and also foolishness, fear, perversion. The camera spends so much time on individual faces, not only on Joan’s but on everyone’s, that you come to realize everyone is on trial. Everyone is being searched, and is given a chance to either be faithful, or not. 

I wondered, as I always do when I think about Joan of Arc, why God chose to intervene in history in such an unusually political way. Joan apparently got direct orders to lead a military charge in order to bring about a specific regime change, and it really feels like God is rooting for one country over another, which seems . . . unusually Old Testamenty. But then I thought, maybe he does actually do this often, and the people he speaks to just decide not to respond! I just don’t know. In any case, this Joan is so singlemindedly fixed on her love of Christ, and her obedience to him, that you can see that that really is the main point — love and obedience — and anything else she does is merely the form her love happens to take.

That being said, she is terrified. She’s not brash or beyond human emotion. She trembles and weeps and struggles as she fights to stay true to Jesus, and you can see that she trusts God but is still terribly afraid of where that trust will lead her. She is holy, but also clearly only 19. Early on, they ask her if she knows the Lord’s Prayer, and who taught it to her. She says, “Ma mère” and a tear slips down her cheek.

Here is the “Has God made you promises?” scene.

Never ever have I seen such acting before. And it’s just her face. 

There aren’t a lot of tellingly clever lines or ideas, although Joan comes across as outwitting the judges a few times, just because she’s completely honest. When they hope to trap her by asking if she’s in a state of grace, she says, “If I am not, God put me there. If I am, please God so keep me.” When they ask if God has promised to free her, she says yes, but she doesn’t know the day or the hour.

This very simplicity, and the way she is both faithful and fearful, is the most memorable depiction of faith I can recall ever seeing. The movie pretty overtly shows Joan is walking in the same steps as Jesus in his final hours. It would make very appropriate viewing for Holy Week, and it would be perfect for kids of high school age.

Content warnings: It shows torture devices and many scenes where Joan is in terror; it shows her being bled to relieve a fever, and it shows her being executed. You see her alive and inhaling smoke, and then you see her burned, already-dead body through the flames, so it’s clear what is happening, but it’s not extremely graphic. The entire movie is tense and alarming, so even though you don’t clearly see the worst things that happen to her, I can imagine  this movie leading to nightmares for sensitive viewers. But she is so clearly triumphant at the end, it leaves you feeling — well, as I said, like something happened to you. Something good. 

***
Here is the list of movies we’ve watched in previous years, with link to ReelGood so you can see where to stream them, and my review (if any):

Lilies of the Field (1963) 
where to stream
 (My longer review here)

The Secret of Kells (2009) 
where to stream
 (My longer review here) 

Saint Philip Neri: I Prefer Heaven
available via Formed
 (My longer review here)

The Miracle Maker (1999)
where to stream
 (My longer review here) 

The Jeweller’s Shop (1989)
available via Formed
 (My longer review here)

The Reluctant Saint: The Story of Joseph of Cupertino (1963)
available via Formed
(My longer review here)

Fiddler on the Roof (1971)
where to stream
 (My longer review here)

The Scarlet and the Black (1983)
where to stream
 (My longer review here)

Boys Town (1938)
where to stream
 (My longer review here)

Fatima (2020)
where to stream
(My longer review here)

The Song of Bernadette (1943)
where to stream
 (My longer review here) 

Ushpizin (2005)
where to stream
 (My longer review here) 

Calvary (2014)
where to stream

I Confess (1953)
where to stream
(My longer review here) 

The Robe (1953)
where to stream
(My longer review here)

The Trouble With Angels (1966)
where to stream
 (My longer review here) 

Babette’s Feast (1987)
where to stream
 (My longer review here)

The Passion of the Christ (2004)
where to stream
(My full review here)

There Be Dragons (2011)
where to stream
(my longer review here) 

The Prince of Egypt (1998)
where to stream

 

An unexpected movie watchlist for Lent

It’s the first Friday in Lent, and you know what that means: Mandatory Lent Film Party! At least, that’s what it means at our house. As much as we can manage, every other evening in Lent is screen-free at our house. But on Fridays, we assemble the family and watch a movie together. But unlike most other movie nights, the adults get to pick it.

The parameters: Each movie should have a religious or spiritual theme or setting (not necessarily Christian), and it should be well-made enough that there’s a reason to watch it besides the spiritual aspect. We lean toward movies we probably wouldn’t get around to watching otherwise.

Some of the movies are new to us, and sometimes they turn out to be terrible! This is not a problem, as long as we talk about why we didn’t like it. Talking about the movie afterward is also mandatory.

We’ve done this for a few years, and I’ve reviewed these movies as we watch them. (Click the title of the films below for my full review.) I tried to include age recommendations—my kids range from age 8 to 25—but it’s a good idea to check out a site like commonsensemedia.org for specific elements that may make it inappropriate for your household’s audience.

Here are some of the highlights and lowlights from the lesser-known or unexpected films on our Lenten watchlist to date… Read the rest of my latest for America Magazine. 

Image:

Meilin Lee Watching TV Template by MaksKochanowicz123
and GaryStockbridge617 (Creative Commons)

Opera nite: TOSCA (1976) review

Every year, we try to watch an opera with the family. Kids and opera are actually a great match, as long as they can read subtitles. There’s drama, there’s action, there’s blood and running around and torches and whatnot, and I think this year we found the absolute perfect opera: Tosca. 

Yes! I couldn’t find it streaming anywhere (well, it is on YouTube with ads), so I bought a DVD of this 1976 production, (here it is on Amazon, but I found a copy on Ebay for much cheaper) which is filmed like a movie in Rome, in the actual locations where the story is set.

We have a sad history of watching the first few hours of an opera and then losing steam and never getting around to finishing it; but this one is just under two hours long, so it was perfect. It is in three acts.

The basic plot: This painter, Mario Cavaradossi, is in love with the beautiful but tempestuous singer Floria Tosca. Cavaradossi helps a friend escape the evil and corrupt chief of police, Scarpia, who realizes if he takes Carvaradossi prisoner, he can find out where the prisoner is hiding and force Tosca to yield her body to him. OR CAN HE? The whole thing takes place in 24 hours, and there is a lot of running around in and out of churches and city streets and up and down stone staircases with cloaks flapping and gorgeous silken trains trailing. It is set in the year 1800 during the Napoleonic wars, but you don’t really have to know that. 

Cavaradossi is a youngish Placido Domingo, absolutely gorgeous.

Tosca is Raina Kabaivanska, who I was not familiar with, and I took a while to warm up to. At first she seemed too highly strung and not quite convincing as an irresistible love interest, but it started making sense, and I think this is built into the story.

Sherrill Milnes is Scarpia, and dang, he’s just so writhingly evil.

(He actually reminded me of The Generalissimo in 30 Rock, which just shows that I have brain worms, and you can ignore.)

I will admit that I’m just not very familiar with this opera, and have never listened to the whole thing all the way through up until now.

WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD! (Go ahead and laugh at the idea of spoilers for an opera that’s a hundred years old, but I was the only one in the room who knew how it ended!)

One theme of the opera is the clash between what is real and what is art. People are kind of obsessed with Tosca, because they have seen her on stage as a diva, and they find her compelling and fascinating because of her voice and her beauty and her presence. But she herself seems to have a little bit of trouble telling the difference between art and reality. When her lover paints Mary Magdalene and uses an amalgamation of another woman and herself to create the perfectly beautiful women, she assumes he’s having an affair, and she cannot let go the idea that he should at least change the eye color.

I think this maybe is her undoing: She puts too much faith in the strength of the stage, of art and artifice. When Scarpia begins to torment her, she is shocked to her core that such a thing is happening to her, because, as she says, she has always lived for her art and has never harmed anyone. And this has always worked for her. 

When she is assured, at the end, that Cavaradossi’s execution will just be a mock one with the firing line shooting blanks, she believes it without hesitation, even though there’s no particular reason to trust this bargain. She thinks it will be just one more show, and even laughs affectionately at her lover because he’s not as good or practiced an actor as she is.

There is that savage moment when she smiles to see him shot, and cries out, “Ecco un artista!” But of course the bullets are real, and he is dead. So of course she leaps off the roof, not so much because she’s afraid of being arrested (she’s clearly not a coward), but because she is going to exit that world that does not work. 

I don’t know, these are all just unformed thoughts from one viewing of one production of the opera, though, and I haven’t read a single word of analysis by anyone else on the work; so I’d be very interested to know what other people have thought! 

Anyway, gosh, I loved it. I loved the combination of insanely operatic over-the-top melodrama, and then little human touches, like Tosca stabbing Scarpia in the gut and sending him to hell, and then fluttering around and laying a crucifix on his chest, because she’s not sure what else to do. The costumes were wonderful. The setting is of course ravishing.

The camera is not too flashy, but ramps up the drama when it matters most. 

 

This is not a style of opera where they have an aria and introduce the main idea, like, “I want you very much!”;”Yes, but what if my husband catches us?” and then repeat it forty six times. It moves right the heck along and keeps you on your toes. The kids vastly preferred this. The plot was also very simple, and everyone grasped it without help. 

The music is irresistible. I don’t know how to say “Puccini is very good” without sounding dumb, so I’ll just leave it at that. 

The subtitles were easy to read (not always the case with subtitles).

Everyone was cast perfectly. The whole thing was just splendid. It was also kind of fun to see Catholic references sprinkled casually in throughout the story (people genuflecting in the church, people pausing to pray the Angelus). 

So, snacks are a big part of Fisher Opera Nite. We hit up Aldi for cheese and crackers, fruit, and various cookies and chocolates and things, and then I got some sparkling grape juice.

We watched the first act, then paused the movie and had our snacks and then watched the rest. If I remember correctly, this film doesn’t stop for a formal intermission like some operas; but as I said, it’s only two hours, so you could easily watch it straight through without a break. 

As far as content: It’s extremely dramatic, but not graphic, so you see stabbing, but there’s not gobs and gobs of blood, for instance. There is a torture scene that’s upsetting but, again, not very graphic. You can see there is sexual coercion, but it’s mostly tense and dramatic, not violent. The painting in the beginning shows Mary Magdalen topless, but that’s it. Can’t think of anything else parents need to know. Definitely make sure you understand what the story is before you decide if your kids (or others) are up for it! 

I’m now really curious to see other productions of Tosca, because the plot is so simple that it must be open to some very wide interpretations. Any suggestions? I don’t know if the kids would want to watch a whole second showing, but I would be up for it. 

Lent Film Party Review: The Reluctant Saint

Fisher Family Mandatory Lent Film Party has been kind of a bust this year. So far we have only watched the second half of I Prefer Heaven, which we started last year and watched on the Formed app, and The Reluctant Saint (1962). We watched that on Tubi; it’s also currently on Amazon Prime.

What I know about Joseph of Cupertino is basically: He was Italian, known as kind of a simpleton, and he levitated. I don’t know how biographically accurate the movie is; I’m just reviewing what I saw. Here’s the trailer:

Here’s the plot:

Giuseppe is a grown man living with his impoverished mother and no-good father in 17th century Italy. His mother has been keeping him in school because she can’t figure out what else to do with him, because he’s so slow-witted and accident prone. She manages to palm him off on some Franciscan friars, who reluctantly allow him to tend the animals; but even there, trouble finds him, partly because, while some of the men are patient and kind, others are resentful and suspicious of his foolish, forbearing ways. He happens to meet and impress the local bishop, who is also of peasant stock, and who sees value and worth in Giuseppe’s simplicity and devotion. He directs him to study for the priesthood, to the horror of everyone including Giuseppe himself. 

His studies are a disaster, but when he reports for his preliminary examinations, the one scripture passage he is quizzed on is the only one he happens to know: about the lost lamb that the shepherd goes to find. So he’s doomed to study for another year, with even more esoteric books, and when he arrives in the city for his exam, the interlocutor turns out to be his old friend the bishop, who immediately lets him pass. 

But in the mean time (I may be slightly scrambling the order of events, but it doesn’t matter much), Giuseppe has taken up the slightly disturbing habit of floating up into the air when he prays. The fellow who previously considered himself Giuseppe’s rival tells the whole town that this is because he’s a saint, and the people swarm the monastery, begging for healing. One of his superiors (played by Ricardo Montalban), who has always eyed Giuseppe with suspicion, now believes that his powers must come from the devil, and Giuseppe is forced to undergo an excruciating exorcism. When it is completed and he is declared free of possession, he immediately begins to levitate again, and his persecutor realizes his mistake and repents. 

In the final scene, we see Giuseppe integrated happily into the community, accepted and valued at last, processing with them and chanting, and blissfully floating away, only to be tugged like a balloon gently back to earth by the very man who accused him of being possessed. 

My take:

It’s a dated movie. The characters speak with accents to show they are Italian, and moments of divine intervention are indicated by blinding light and loud, heavenly choirs. Giuseppe’s intellectual state is portrayed in a way that may make modern viewers squirm.

That being said, I give the actor, Maximilian Schell, full credit for taking on a kind of role that wasn’t really a thing at that time, and generally lending the character a dignity that’s probably ahead of its time, despite the plot relying heavily on comedy. 

Early on, it’s a little painful to watch Schell’s grinning, fumbling performance. It’s almost like the beginning of an Adam Sandler movie, where you think, “Oh my gosh, is he going to act like this the whole time?” But either the acting gets better or you just begin to accept it within the world of the movie, because it does get less uncomfortable.

It’s not entirely clear what Giuseppe’s intellectual capacity is, but he’s constantly mocked, abused, and bullied, and he tries his best to accept it with good humor. There’s some indication that he struggles with treating people well when they abuse him. It’s a comedy, overall, bbut you do feel how badly he wants to belong somewhere and be useful somewhere; and you feel how painful and awful it is for him to be dragged away from his happy world he’s found in the barn with the animals, and to have to be in a monk’s cell studying books he doesn’t understand; but you also see that he does it out of obedience and humility. 

Giuseppe is the patron saint of aviators, which is cute, but at least as he is portrayed in this movie, I think he would be especially dear to people who never feel like they belong or fit in or are in the right place, and never feel like they’re good enough, and are trying very hard to humbly work with the hand they were dealt. 

One thing I liked very much was the character of the bishop. Catholics and anti-Catholics alike generally take the shortcut of almost reflexively showing hierarchy as bad guys — but Bishop Durso (Akim Tamiroff) is so affable and lovely, it’s like balm for Giuseppe to have such a good friend. I love that he readily (correctly) identifies Giuseppe as a “true son of Francis,” and it’s pleasant to see another such man in the role of bishop. (I generally find it comforting to realize that, just like today, the church has always struggled with religious orders straying from their charisms, and has always had a problem with internal jealousy and competition and infighting cropping up in otherwise sound groups; but God, then and now, continues to raise up good, solid men and to place them where they need to be at the right time. The movie doesn’t necessarily draw this theme out; maybe it’s just something I especially needed to see right now! Nevertheless, it is there in the story. )

There was very little discussion of spiritual things in the movie, that I can recall, and that was a good choice. I mean there is, but Giuseppe doesn’t come out with any maxims, corny or profound, about God’s love or intentions; you can just tell from the expression on his face that he’s very devoted to Mary, that he tries very hard to be good, that he works hard to forgive people when they wrong him, and that it’s a constant sorrow to him that he’s always failing at what he tries, but he does love life all the same. All this makes it immensely gratifying when he eventually does find his place at the end. It’s not excellent acting, but it’s good enough. It works. 

There is no explanation or theorizing, that I can recall, about exactly why he levitates. It makes life much harder for him! It’s not something he would chose for himself. The very first time it happens, the movie (not especially creative in its cinematography in general) depicts this by showing, not him, but the statue that has sent him into ecstasy. We see it from his point of view, first over his head, then only slightly overhead, and then at face level, and that’s how we realize he’s rising into the air. This is clever, because it avoids what could be a clumsy-looking special effect of him dangling in mid-air, and it also invites us to see the phenomenon from his point of view: Just something that is happening, utterly out of his control, and who knows why. I’m not trying to read too much into it. I just appreciate that this is a movie that keeps things simple and doesn’t try to go beyond its own means. Levitation is weird. It’s something that Giuseppe just has to accept, and, well, so do we. 

When you see him levitating when he’s facing the altar, saying his first Mass, his face almost distorted with joy, it’s a short scene but quite powerful. It shows something you maybe don’t think about very often: What it feels like to be a priest. Or maybe what it ought to feel like? 

The only thing I had a quibble with is when the bishop, in the middle of their lovely nighttime chat while roasting chestnuts, admits to Giuseppe that’s he’s never really understood the trinity. That’s fine, but then Giuseppe blithely explains it by saying that it’s like his robe: You fold it into three, and that’s it: Three folds, one robe; three persons, one God. The bishop says “Brilliant!” Well, actually that’s the heresy of partialism! So if you’re watching with your kids, you might want to follow up on that scene.

It’s not really a kid’s movie, but there’s nothing graphic or terrifying in it. More sensitive viewers might be upset by how often the mother hits Giuseppe, and how mean she is to him in general, although she clearly loves him. There is nothing graphic in this movie, and although its overall tone is lighthearted, there are some sad and intense scenes throughout, mostly because Giuseppe is constantly mocked and harassed and pushed around so much. It also has a scene where he feeds a starving mother and baby, and is beaten up. His father is a drunk, and then he dies. The scene of the exorcism lasts several minutes and shows him kneeling and sweating by candlelight while in chains, while the priest dramatically prays in Latin. Kids who watch it will probably need adults to put some things in context. But as I said, the movie keeps things straightforward and simple.

Overall, I liked it very much, and I’m glad my family saw it. It was entertaining and engaging and memorable. Recommended, as long as you understand the sensitivities of your viewers. 

Friday Night Mandatory Lent Film Party, 2023 edition!

The tradition continues! In Lent, our whole family goes screen-free from 7:00-9:00 PM most days. It’s the same idea as Advent, except we’re a bit more stickerlish about it. We’ve been listening to the Bible In a Year Podcasts with Fr. Mike Schmitz, and we have fallen behind (we just started Exodus), so we’re hoping to get back on the wagon during Lent. I’ve been sketching while I listen, and so have many of the kids. 

The other thing we’ve been doing for a few years is a mandatory family film viewing on Friday nights. Damien and I choose something edifying, well-made movie, preferably with some spiritual theme. We try to choose some  that are overtly religious and some that are not; some that are more uplifting and/or lighthearted, and some that are heavier or more intense. If they are religious, they do not necessarily have to be Christian. And they are mandatory! So penitential, much gulag. 

Here are the quickie reviews of the movies we’ve watched in past years. I have tried to provide links in the reviews to where the movies can be viewed.

2022:

The Secret of Kells; I Prefer Heaven (about Philip Neri); AND The Miracle Maker

The Jeweller’s Shop

Fiddler On the Roof AND The Scarlet and the Black

2021:

Fatima

The Song of Bernadette

Ushpizin

Calvary (This one is a podcast and it’s currently only open to Patreon patrons. The podcast is currently on hiatus, but of course archives are still open to patrons.)

and 2020:

I Confess

The Robe

The Trouble With Angels

Babette’s Feast

Lilies of the Field

Bonus review:

The Passion of the Christ

This year, a couple of my kids have already been watching The Chosen at their Catholic high school, so we’ll let that be, although I haven’t seen any of it yet myself. Our tentative list so far is:

The second half of I Prefer Heaven, which we never got around to watching

Tree of Life

Of Gods and Men

A Man For All Seasons, which most of our kids have never seen, somehow

And that’s all I have so far. Our kids are getting older (the youngest will be 8 in a few days!) and the others still at home are 11, 14, 15, 17, 19, 22, and 24, so it’s easier to find movies for the whole family. In our family, we take movies pretty seriously, and the kids will sit around debating the themes and subtexts and allusions in Sonic the Hedgehog 2 (2022) if no one makes them stop, so I like to occasionally sit them down in front of movies that have something on their mind, not to mention movies that counteract the constant cultural message that christians = vicious, hypocritical, fascist clowns. 

Any suggestions? We don’t usually manage to watch a movie every single Friday, but I would like to add a couple more possibilities to the list. 

 

Who is Pinocchio?

The first thing you need to know about Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio (2022) is it is beeeee-yoootiful. It will take your breath away. It is a work of art, and everyone who had a hand in it should win prizes and be proud forever.
[where to watch it]

The second thing to know is that it’s absolutely full of Jesus. Or someone. More about that later! 

I am recommending this movie heartily, but it’s tragic and alarming, scary, weird, and dehydrating, because your mouth will hang open the whole time. My seven-year-old loved it, but she’s a tough kid, and she was grabbing my arm the whole time. It has the death of a child and others, drunken grief, air raids and naval mines, hair-raising supernatural creatures, startling scenes from the afterlife, and lots of painful strife between fathers and sons.

It’s also extremely witty and playful, tender, suspenseful, and, I really cannot emphasize enough, so beautiful. I cannot decide, yet, whether it’s coherent or not. I’ve only seen it once so far! (This review will have spoilers, so beware.) 

Del Toro has set it in the middle of World War II, and he’s given Gepetto a backstory: He’s not just a whimsical toymaker, but a skilled carpenter who’s teaching his beloved young son, Carlo. 

In the original book and the Disney movie, Pinocchio is a concupiscent rascal who will always take the easy, pleasurable way out. He doesn’t go to school; instead, he choses Pleasure Island and must be put through a horrible ordeal and hit rock bottom before he cathartically emerges, chastened, ready to try to be obedient and self-sacrificial.

But in this movie, Pinocchio is more of a blank slate (and he is literally unpainted; just plain pine), and other people see uses for him. The puppet master sees the ideal entertainer; the fascist Podesta sees the perfect soldier; and Gepetto simply sees a burden, something that fails to be his son.

It almost sounds like typical theme for recent children’s movies: This young person is different from all the others, and the adults must learn to appreciate him for who he is. But it’s not so facile. Gepetto does learn to love Pinocchio for who he is, rather than trying to transform him into a substitute for his lost son Carlo (at the end, Pinocchio becomes “a real boy,” but his body remains pine, and does not transform into human flesh). But this is because the movie is just as much, or more, about Gepetto and about parenthood and what it does to you as it is about Pinocchio.

And others around him are changed, too: The monkey rebels against his cruel master; Candlewick has the courage to say “no” to the father he wants so desperately to please; and of course Pinocchio physically saves Gepetto’s life, first with his bizarre ability to extend his nose, then by dragging him up from the water in a profoundly affecting scene where, having deliberately set off a naval mine to kill the sea monster, he pathetically thrashes in the depths with his burned stump as he flails to bring his unconscious father to the surface. 

In another way, his very existence saves Gepetto. The only thing left of Carlo, the first son, is the perfect pinecone he found, so that is what the father has to bury. Gepetto tends the tree that sprouts up, year after year. But he’s not doing well. He’s wasting away, being eaten up by his grief, and he continues to live while his son does not. Finally, in a nail-biting, Frankenstein-esque scene,  he cuts down the tree in a drunken frenzy and crafts it into the rough body of a boy; and a passing wood sprite brings it to life while he sleeps. 

Pinocchio commences to make terrible trouble for him, raising the wrath of Podesta and the priest and putting him in debt to the carnival. And Gepetto does his best, trying to tolerate him and teach him what he needs to know; but ultimately Pinocchio saves him not only by helping him out of the sea monster’s mouth, not only by pulling him up out of the depths of the water, but by being alive in the first place. Pinocchio makes him suffer, but he also draws him out of the dark hole of grief over Carlo. 

Here is the real shift that this movie makes. I wondered why del Toro took out the Pleasure Island sequence, and why he decided to make Pinocchio more innocent. I thought perhaps the idea was to shift the emphasis onto cultural themes: Rather than pleasure island, the boys are sent to its sort of dark parallel, war training camp.

But there’s also something else, that happens in the first ten minutes of the movie.Before Gepetto made Pinocchio, he was at rock bottom. He was the one who had given in to his worst impulses, and was wallowing in the weakness of his sorrow. He had, you could say, gone to Grief Island and couldn’t escape. It’s only after his entire ordeal with his travels and with the sea monster and his horrible grief of losing a second son and then getting him back again that he returns to his home and resumes to something like the life he had before Carlo died. We see him back in the church at home, fitting a new arm on the damaged. crucified Christ. And we see that Pinocchio, too, has two arms once again. Gepetto has been restored. 

Which part was cathartic for him? It’s hard to say. He is an old man. It was hard not to think of Abraham, taking such delight in his son, and then losing him on the very altar of God. Well, this is what I mean by not being sure how coherent the movie was. There was so much in there, I truly cannot tell if it doesn’t hang together, or if it’s just incredibly complex. 

The creature that guards the hour glasses in the underworld says that human life is precious because it is short. It’s clear that this being has a somewhat different approach to humanity from her sister, and is exasperated that the sister brought Pinocchio to life. She does allow Pinocchio the free choice over whether to break the rules, smashing the hourglass and exiting the netherworld early, for the sake of his father’s love; but it’s not clear whether Pinocchio’s heroism is meant as a rebuke to the idea that the shortness of human life is what makes it precious. Being a “real boy” is clearly about more than the ability to live and die. At the end of the movie, he’s somewhere in between mortal and immortal: he outlives Gepetto, and the monkey, and the cricket, and it is suggested that he has undone the experience of his father. Gepetto, too, outlived his beloved ones; but Pinocchio, silhouetted on that same hilltop, isn’t wasting away at the grave and refusing to live on while his loved ones are dead; but he is also not suffering the terrible fate that the timekeeping creature warned him of, where everyone he loves dies while he lives on forever. It is suggested that he goes out into the larger world and is accepted for who he is; and then, says that narrator: “What happens, happens, and then we’re gone.”

Well. Listen. As far as I’m concerned, that last line was the equivalent of Gepetto mumbling something lame about the other people getting to know you better over time. That’s no answer, and I think del Toro knows it. 

As a Catholic, when I review movies, I try to catch myself and make sure I’m not Jesus juking anybody, and confabulating religious themes where they weren’t intended. Here, I’m finding myself having to do the opposite: Scrambling around busily gathering up all the explicit references to Jesus, and not being able to make anything out of them. Trying to work through what this movie was doing is like trying to put together a complicated, detailed kit that has all the tiny pieces and all the directions, but no glue.  Or maybe I just haven’t found it yet.

Very early in the movie, I was surprised and gratified to see Gepetto and his son making the sign of the cross to pray before a meal, and then they had a crucifix on the wall of their house. I thought, “Oh, wartime Italy was Catholic and they’re not gloss over it; that’s neat.” Next scene: Gepetto is carving an enormous crucifix for the town church. They linger over the face of Christ, and shortly afterward, after they hoist the crucifix into position at the altar, Gepetto climbs up and is painting blood onto the face. He asks his son to send him up some more red paint. I gasped.

Did you know that children make you suffer? This movie will tell you so, if you didn’t know. Children will make you suffer, and they will transform you.

But Pinocchio is not just any son. Who is he?

At one point, after Pinocchio is somewhat understandably ejected from the church (he really is kind of ungodly looking, and after wandering up the aisle, he innocently apes the outstretched arms of the crucifix and grins at the crowd),

he explicitly asks his father, “How come they like Him and not me?” Meaning Jesus. They are both made of wood, but people sing to Jesus, but they throw Pinocchio out. Gepetto doesn’t really have an answer, partly because he doesn’t like Pinocchio very much himself, yet. He mumbles something about how people will get to know him better, and he must go to school. But you can see, the question has occurred to del Toro, and he wants us to ask ourselves: Who is this, anyway? What does it mean to be made into a human? What kind of incarnation are we talking about? 

And there’s more. The question of obedience to the father is brought up several times, always in terms of it being a good thing, a sign of respect, the right way to live. 

But also presented as a virtue: Saying no to authority, and breaking the rules when the time is right. This is what Candlewick does when he and Pinocchio both tie their flags to the tower, and he refuses to shoot his friend despite his father’s order, and despite his desperate desire to win his father’s approval. He openly says to his father something like, “I’m strong enough to say no, are you?” You can see that the priest and others in the town feel somewhat conflicted when they clumsily salute; they’re not strong enough to say no.

And Pinocchio, of course, faces a moment when he is given a choice to break the rules. In his third sojourn in the sandy underworld, he can’t wait for the hourglass to run out to return to life, so he choses to break it, knowing it means he will die. 

There’s more Christ imagery: In the final struggle with the puppeteer, Pinocchio is tied to a tree at the edge of a cliff in an unmistakable echo of the crucifix that fascinated him; then shortly after, we see Pinocchio descending down into the waters after his father and struggling to bear him up. He gives up his life for his friends! He dies, but he comes back to life! Pinocchio is Jesus! Right? Sort of? But not really! 

This is fairly on brand for del Toro. I guess he can’t shake the idea that, in every movie he makes, he’s looking for that perfect, unblemished pinecone, and he knows it has to be buried, and knows it will become a tree that will be cut down and craft into something that will ultimately save him. But he can’t quite bring himself to say its true name. At one point, a terrified congregant in the church says, “Malocchio!” and the puppet brightly responds, “No, Pinocchio!” 

My dude, no, it’s Jesus. 

Boy, though, what a movie.