Living heroes

(Updated: I suppose I should give a quick reason why these folks made my hero list. )

I have quite a few heroes who have passed on, but thought I'd jot down a few who are still living (other than my family, of course).

In no particular order:

• Jimmy Carter - He practices what he preaches, is a peacemaker, diplomat and cares for the least of the least.
  
• Kofi Annan - Certainly a flawed man, but he worked tirelessly for human rights and justice and carried himself with a quiet strength. He's also from Ghana, where Annie grew up.
  
• Asne Seierstad - She's a journalist and an author from Norway who travels tirelessly to tell small stories about people from Kabul to Chechnya. I envy her life.
  
• Nanni Moretti - My favorite filmmaker. From Italy; I own most of his films and watch them over and over. Quirky, sad, lonely, funny, irritating.
  
• Eugene Peterson - A true pastor's heart, author of books that always challenge me and translator of one of my favorite versions of the Bible. A gentle man who loves stories.
  
• Gurinder Chadha - It takes real talent to tackle a subject like the role of Indian women in British society and make it so fun. And Gurinder seems to have a great personality to boot.
  
• N.T. Wright - Renowned British theologian, his book Jesus and the Victory of God made what was once common new.
  
• Peter Kreeft - The surfing philosophy professor. Always writing with a twinkle in his eye, his books give definition to some rather murky subjects.
  
• Richard Dahlstrom - A pastor in Seattle that continues to mentor me through his blog and sermons.
  
• Christiane Amanpour - Working on assignment with CNN, she always covers the hot spots with a level head and years of experience.
  
• Colin Powell - Always trying to form international coalitions, trying to moderate between extremes, used by many leaders for their own gain, Colin Powell continues to remain dignified and a diplomat.
  
• Sofia Coppola - Director of Lost in Translation, she knows how to capture nuance and subtlety. And if the behind the scenes documentary is true, she is one of the most laid back directors in Hollywood... a rarity.
  
• Stanley Hauerwas - Has championed the cause of those with intellectual disabilities since the 1970's.
  
• John Irving - A Prayer for Owen Meany. Period.
  
• Paul David Hewson - OK, so I put Bono on the list. I truely do admire his determination for helping Africa. And I could listen to Vertigo anytime.
  
• Mira Nair - Another excellent director who deals with cross-cultural issues. Start with Monsoon Wedding.
  
• Julian Schnabel - Filmmaker and bold artist. Reminds me a lot of a friend of mine.
  

They say you can tell a lot about a person based on their heroes...

Thought during nap time

Existentialism would never have surfaced if Kierkegaard, Nietzsche and Sartre had kids.

Why I went to see Tropic Thunder - Part III

First, a word about the Perry brothers. Their in-your-face style of humor isn't for everyone. I like much of it, but they can definitely be offensive, sometimes downright jerks (if you keep reading, you'll see why I think it is justifiable for me to call them "jerks"). Which brings me to my final point: "Is it OK to laugh?"

Andrew Terjesen, Assistant Professor of Philosophy at Rhodes College, tackles the subject of offensive humor by asking, "Why is it not OK to laugh at mean-spirited humor (like racist jokes), but it is OK to laugh at parodies of it?" He says that it's because "parodies of mean-spirited humor are at the expense of mean-spirited people."

So is it OK to make fun of mean-spirited people? I think so. If it's for their own good and the good of those around them. Making fun of people is only acceptable if the people at the butt of joke have the potential to change. That's why it isn't ethical to make fun of people with intellectual disabilities or because of the color of a person's skin. They have no way of changing who they are. But a person who makes fun of a disabled person can change, and humor is a powerful tool in helping bring about that change.

Terjesen also says, "Since parodies of mean-spirited humor target mean-spirited people we ought to laugh at the parodies. By laughing at them we are reinforcing the idea that no one should be like them."

Ben Stiller has repeated over and over that Tropic Thunder is not mean-spirited. How can we differentiate between parodies of mean-spirited behavior and those that pretend to be? To do this, we have to look at Stiller's intent as well as his past treatment of humor.

Stiller says that the Hollywood system and narcissistic actors are the butt of the joke. And if we accept that it is OK to make fun of those who can change their behaviors, and we also agree that it is good for them to change their behavior, then we should be able to agree that Stiller is justified in making prima donna actors the butt of the joke. For their own good, and the good of society.

What about Simple Jack? Is Stiller making fun of people with intellectual disabilities, or is he making fun of actors who go too far in their portrayal of those with disabilities? If he is indeed making fun of the disabled, then he is wrong. I assert that he is doing what he says he is doing and to back this up, we have to look at his past.

Stiller has been making parodies since the 1980's when he did The Ben Stiller Show. His parody of 90210 is a classic and rightly mocks those who are self-absorbed. There's Something about Mary, Meet the Parents, Reality Bites, The Heartbreak Kid, Zoolander, Night at the Museum. While much of the humor in his films is crass, I think you would be hard pressed to make the argument that they are mean-spirited. So after nearly 20 years of parody, is it fair to make the claim that Stiller has crossed the line? I think we should give him the benefit of the doubt.

I've read many posts that say, "So what if it's a parody? Lots of people won't get it and will think it's OK to make fun of people with Down syndrome or intellectual disabilities." But Terjesen asks, "Does it mean that because some people will laugh at something for the wrong reasons that you shouldn't do it?" In other words, if something could possibly be misunderstood, does that mean it shouldn't be done? There is always going to be potential for abuse. There are going to be a lot of people reading this post who will misunderstand me. Does that mean I shouldn't write it? Of course not.

A last thought from Terjesen, "Without parody, we lose an effective way of not only making fun of the mean-spirited (and therefore of publicly disapproving of them) but also of getting them to realize their own folly (as they begin to realize what they are really laughing at)."

What about the word "retard?"

Now that we understand (if you agree with what I've said thus far) the world that Stiller has created on the screen, we have the proper context with which to correctly interpret how the word "retard" is used. "Never go full retard" is uttered by a delusional actor (Downey's character) who is referencing other "serious" actors (like Tom Hanks and Sean Penn). Who is the butt of the joke? The "retarded?" Or the actors (Hanks and Penn)? I assert that it is the latter, thus the term, in this context, is justified.

That said, I do take the film to task for one damning scene that is mean-spirited and crosses the line (based on the butt of the joke being someone who cannot change who they are.) The scene(s) both involve Matthew McConaughey. I'm sure you've read about them. McConaughey, who plays Stiller's agent, shows disappointment with having a child with apparent Down syndrome. I especially take Stiller to task for the final scene in the film, which received a huge laugh by the audience when I saw it. McConaughey is sitting on his private jet and gives an obvious look of disappointment in the direction of his son, who is sitting looking out the window quietly.

Why is this mean-spirited? Who's the butt of the joke? True, McConaughey is portrayed as a shallow, money hungry, insecure agent so the argument could be made that we are laughing at his lack of character. But it doesn't play that way and needs to be challenged.

Why have I devoted so much time and thought to this movie? I felt I had to since I am in the minority. I understand the motivations behind the boycott; please believe me that I do. How many times have I seen that frozen smile creep onto a stranger's face when they suddenly sense something is "different" about Ian. I want the world to see what a neat little guy he is, want them to know how he's changed my life for the better. I don't want him to be called "retard," but I also don't want him to be called "jerk" or any other disparaging word (unless he's being a jerk). And I can't help but feel that this boycott will alienate Ian even more. Now people may fidget even more around him or avoid him altogether for fear of offending him. People on the other side of the protests may avoid me even more because they aren't sure how not to offend me.

We need laughter. We need satire. And we need Ben Stiller.

Why I went to see Tropic Thunder - Part II

I was all set to write a long post about not giving power to certain words, about letting people with Down syndrome speak for themselves, about how I believe the boycott is further alienating people with intellectual disabilities from others, about how the use of over-the-top parodies can reveal hidden truths. But then the Perry brothers stole my, err, thunder.


While I don't agree with their mostly playful call to "boycott the boycotters," I do agree with their assertions that words only have the power we give them what Ben Stiller intended has been misrepresented. (I edited this because I think that words possess a power beyond what we give them, which I hope to expand on another day.)

I wanted to make up a shirt for Ian to wear on the Buddy Walk that said, "Does this shirt make me look retarded?" but Annie threatened to boycott me. Besides, I'll wait until Ian is old enough to make his own statements.

Next, "Is it OK to laugh at that?"

Why I went to see Tropic Thunder - Part I

(It didn't start out this way, but this is turning into a three-part post. So if you find yourself getting upset with something I've said, I hope you will indulge me until the end. If you're still upset, well, we'll take it from there I suppose.)

I went to see Tropic Thunder last night. The theater was packed, the majority of the audience young guys, probably in their twenties, many with dates. There were also groups of girls sprinkled here and there. I saw a few "older" people, like, in their forties (we're so old), but not many. It was approaching 9pm, after all.

I've been following the call for a national boycott on most of the blogs that I frequent, as well as many of the excellent links provided by Patricia Bauer's website. I watched the interviews with Ben Stiller on Good Morning America and on Nightline, as well as watched the various reports on CNN concerning the protests. The editor of the online magazine that I just started contributing to also called for a boycott, as did all the other contributors. I read how the Special Olympics, ARC and many Down syndrome organizations support the boycott, and have even launched a new campaign to help bring an end to the use of the "R" word, as it's often called.

I've also read literally dozens of well-written, thoughtful, provocative and heartfelt posts on blogs that I subscribe to via Google Reader, many of them angry, others hurt, most just wanting to support their children, as I do.

But after seeing Tropic Thunder, I still cannot support the boycott. Nor can I sign a petition calling for a ban of the "R" word.

First, my thoughts on the film. I did laugh. It is funny. Robert Downey Jr. is amazing to watch, Ben Stiller's "straight man" comedic timing is spot on and Tom Cruise, well, his performance will haunt me for quite some time as he conjures up one of the funniest characters I've seen on the screen in a long time. Aside from his performance on Oprah, of course. But the film wasn't that funny. Not side-splitting funny like I've read in some reviews. Maybe I wasn't in the right frame of mind, or was wondering how I was going to pay for Ian's hearing aids or maybe it was just after 9pm and past my bedtime.

And the satire? I'm sorta-kinda in the biz; I've worked with many local prima donna actors and producers. Shot some behind the scene footage on some low budget films. So I got all the film industry references, and they were mostly funny, but more "Yeah, I know someone like that" kind of funny. I got the references to big budget films, to sequels, to high-maintenance actors, etc. But the use of irony and parody were, well, a bit weak. The Family Guy is much better satire; it's tighter, smarter, more self-aware and sheds more light on hidden truths, which is what comedy and satire aspires to do. At least good comedy. The film's saving grace were the performances, the high budget feel and just enough laughs to keep you wanting more.

I give the film three out of five Rambo knives.

(Next: Simple Jack and "retards")

Escapes

I bailed out of work early yesterday; all the deadlines and constant stress was causing me to lose sleep. I was up for four hours in the middle of Monday night, lying on the couch, trying to switch off my thoughts. I shouldn't have gotten into the Frontline documentary on PBS called Bush's War, which is excellent. Highly recommend it, and you can watch it online.

So I just threw on my jacket and headed to the nearest movie theater. That's my chief escape. That, and philosophy books. Ahh, a cold winter's day, a hot latte and a good book on the ontological hermeneutics expressed in the existential-phenomenological works of Ricoeur. Bliss.

I quickly perused my choice of films and decided on The Band's Visit. Man, am I glad I did. Fantastic film! A+. Five stars. An Israeli film, it's about loneliness and connecting with others, even if just for a brief moment. It's one of those films that makes you ache and brings you joy, all at the same time. Films like these are why I'm in the field I'm in. How's that for a rave review?!

I haven't been going to enough movies lately. If I don't do the little things that bring me joy, I always seem to burn out. Now I just need to find a new philosophy book to read.

Speaking of which, I bought The Philosophy of Jesus by Boston College professor of philosophy, Peter Kreeft. Kreeft isn't for everyone; while mostly funny and witty, he can be a little dogmatic and combative at times. But I've always learned from his books and look forward to this one. I'm also reading Deep River by the Catholic Japanese writer Shusaku Endo. His book Silence (which Martin Scorsese is hoping to convert into a film) is one of my all-time favorites, and I can't wait to finish this one.

This week is much more relaxed, so I hope to do more writing. Hope to, anyway.

Pollyanna syndrome

Today has been a bad day.

The reality of raising a son with an intellectual disability seeps in, like floodwaters that rise and eventually flood the basement. For some people, these waters continue to rise, overtaking the house until even the roof disappears into the watery murkiness.

For me, the floodwaters are just beginning to creep through the basement windows.

Part of what I am struggling with today is the "Pollyanna syndrome." You know, the face that I am "required" to put on when I - the father of a son with Down syndrome - encounter the world. It's like I have to show the world that my son is worthwhile, that his existence is meaningful. "Productive." That his is a life of dignity.

The Pollyanna syndrome requires me to point to all of the accomplishments made by children and adults with Down syndrome. "Look, Johnny can bag groceries and say something nice. Timmy can shoot a basket and be part of the team. Jenny can swim across a lake. Look, look! See, they're just like you and me!"

Ian is not just like you and me. His genes are all screwy... it's like in the old film The Love Bug when the bad guys messed with Herbie's engine so they could win the race. Herbie was still technically a car, and a fine one at that, but his insides were out of whack. But we still loved him.

From what I'm reading, so much effort is spent trying to prove that people like my son are the same as everyone else, with just a little something extra. Ian is not the same. He is different. In philosophy we call it the Other.

We just need to learn to love the Other.

Words, so many words

Once or twice a month I meet my dad for lunch. We discuss everything from the latest independent films to N.T. Wright's views on justification to existential despair, often over a hot pastrami sandwich.

Today we talked about words. About "spiritual speak."

When I lived in Colorado, a friend of mine died while rock climbing. He was older than me by nearly 20 years and was instrumental in helping me learn to listen for the voice of God in everyday life.

In the weeks following his death, many of my friends sought to comfort me by quoting passages from Scripture. "All things work together for good." "I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord."

To be blunt, these attempts at offering consolation pissed me off.

There are two primary ways to express one's faith: implicitly or explicitly. The reason I shy away from most Christian corporate gatherings is because I choose to express my life of faith implicitly, without a lot of words. I will, from time-to-time, discuss matters of faith explicitly, as I am here, but a quick perusal of my past blog entries will show, I believe, my desire to allow my faith to seep through every pore of my lived life, and not so much through references to Scripture or religious language.

Martin Buber, the Jewish philosopher and educator, believed that there must be no distinction between words and deeds. Words are not rootless, floating about like the feather in the opening scene of Forrest Gump. They are like leaves on a tree, each one with a unique function, each helping to make a tree a tree. Words carry weight, and should not be misused like a credit card during the Christmas shopping season.

I imagine most of us have run across people who engage in "spiritual speak."

"Isn't God good?"

"God loves you."

"Turn to God... He'll give you peace."

I think that these words are most often unrooted; they do not spring from within the person speaking the words but are merely places of comfort for the speaker to retreat into, like a fortress with high walls. When I say that I am sad and someone tells me that "God is good," what they really mean is "I am uncomfortable. I cannot face this situation. I fear the uncertainty that you are requiring me to enter into."

I do not want an answer, I want a person.

Words can be loud, but silence even louder.

Stop talking. Be.

Why the world hates my son

Let's just say it out loud, alright? The world hates my son. Or at best, they pity him, which I think is just as bad.

Either way, the world wishes they did not have to face the questions my son's life requires asking.

I'm a layman philosopher. Not an expert. I read philosophy because it brings me joy. I love the ring of the precise words as they sit next to each other. The way philosophers take a flashlight and shine it into the shadows, searching for another piece of the puzzle that explains or mystifies.

Because I want to know the truth, because I want to see the world as it actually is and not the way I wish it to be, I must conclude that my son is hated.

Statistics are numbers that capture real events. They are scratches on paper that represent breathed experiences. And so if it is indeed true that 90% of mothers choose to end their pregnancies upon learning their future child will be like Ian, I have little choice but to believe that the world would prefer Ian's non-existence over his existence.

The world would prefer that my son did not exist.

Why use the word "hate?" As a layman philosopher, I realize the importance of using the right words. Would you prefer "distaste" or "dislike" or "hostility" or "animosity" or "loathe" or "abominate?"

Perhaps you think my language is too strong. OK, then I will use the word "fear."

The world fears my son.

Why?

To understand this, we must first understand the Story we are living. What are the central themes that we all appear to subscribe to?

What do the movies tell us? Will Smith in The Pursuit of Happiness tells us that if we work hard we can overcome all obstacles. That is the theme of most movies created here in these union of states called America. Sister Act, Apollo 13, Dead Poets Society, Rudy and Flashdance are some that jump to mind right away. All films I enjoy, by the way.

Or look at the best-selling books this week: You: Staying Young, Become a Better You, The Secret, Women and Money, Think Big and Kick Ass in Business and Life by Donald Trump.

It's all the Story of Progress. Work hard, more education, do your best.

But Ian is a stumbling block on this road to Progress.

Ian represents a limitation.

And the last thing the Story of Progress can tolerate is a limitation.

I read stories of parents afraid to allow their "normal" children to learn in the same classrooms with children like Ian. These parents are afraid it will hold their children back. Never do we hear parents say that having someone like Ian in the class will improve their "normal" child's chances of making it into Harvard or Princeton or Oxford.

It may help this "normal" child understand more fully what it means to be human, but that is not the Story we are living.

Advocates for children with Down syndrome may cringe at this assertion of mine, that the world hates my son. They may ask how stating such a thing is in any way helpful to advancing the cause of people like Ian.

I am all for advocacy and education. Ian's life will be all the better for it. And the lives of countless people with Down syndrome are better today than ever in history.

If they survive the womb.*

I think it is best to start with the blinders off and eyes wide open. Let's not fool ourselves. Ian forces us to ask questions that are not part of the Story of Progress. Questions about fidelity and sacrifice and suffering and love stripped of it's Romantic and nauseating lack of staying power.

Yes, the world hates my son. But it desperately needs him.

*I am not talking about the issue of abortion here , but more about the decisions made to abort because of a diagnosis of Down syndrome in utero.

Making Life Decisions

Man, I've got to shake this off! Yesterday was my "pity party" day. Poor Tom. Moping around, throwing tantrums, little fits that would make my two-year-old daughter proud. Reading depressing poetry. Blogging about it. I'm resolved to not blog when I'm in one of those moods again.

I'm blessed. I've got an amazing wife of 14 years, a beautiful little girl and an incredible new son. No more pouting.

That said, I wonder if anyone has some advice about making life decisions after learning your child has Down Syndrome. The reason I ask is that, even though it's only been two weeks, I've found that I've lost some interest in abstract philosophy, which is rather unfortunate being that I've just started a company to teach philosophy.

The day after Ian was born, I, not knowing the first thing about Down Syndrome, googled the condition. I'm a little embarrassed to admit it, but I didn't search for medical information or living with a "disability", etc. I researched Ian's potential ability to grasp abstract thought. One of my dreams has always been to share a deep appreciation of film, music, Story, theological and philosophical discussions with my children. One of my favorite things to do is to sit in a cafe and talk about the Big Questions.

Ian may never be able to participate in these kinds of interactions. I'm OK with that - now. I really am. But it leaves me in a quandary: What will I care about in the coming weeks and years? Now that I want to experience life with Ian and Silvi, to share in the things that they enjoy.

I was just wondering how life with Down Syndrome changed what you care about... and how it will change how I view life and the things that matter.

Realist

I'm trying not to be too hard on myself. I'm trying to be a realist. Realistically, it's probably going to take me a few months until I can finish writing all these philosophy scripts. Really. That means that I probably won't be able to shoot until the spring. That really bites.

ob·fus·cate

ob·fus·cate (ŏb'fə-skāt', ŏb-fŭs'kāt')
tr.v., -cat·ed, -cat·ing, -cates.

1. To make so confused or opaque as to be difficult to perceive or understand.
2. To render indistinct or dim; darken: The fog obfuscated the shore.

Great efforts are made to obfuscate the truth.

Philosophy Film Database

I found a great resource that lets you search for films that explore various philosophical issues. You can browse by topic or theme or philosophical field.

Check it out here, then go rent a movie.

Derrida and "cussing"

The French philosopher Jacques Derrida taught that the meanings of words are never fixed in a way that allows us to effectively determine their meaning. Words point to words point to words point to words, etc. I agree. I disagree. You understand, don't you?

Chuck Swindoll, John Piper and Mark Driscoll know that words have meaning. Swindoll was kicked off the radio, Piper had to issue a written apology and Driscoll, well, you understand, don't you?

I used to embrace much of what Derrida taught. I don't anymore. I think he is a necessary correction to the modernist project, but goes too far. (You understand, don't you?) Words may build on words that build on words but at one point those words build on the Word made flesh.

Understand?

Trilogy

Most of you know that I co-host a monthly documentary group called First Friday Films where we meet and discuss various cross-cultural films. Some of them address issues of faith, most are just glimpses into how the rest of the world thinks and lives. We often conduct phone interviews with the directors, and the group is able to ask questions and interact. Last month we had over a hundred people show up.

It is a good thing, this documentary group. I believe that it is affecting some of the attendees, and that they will be better people because of it. That said, it has always been a dream of mine to host a film group in a more intimate setting, addressing the Big Questions as well as matters of the heart. One idea is to present four films by one of my favorite directors, Nanni Moretti. His films are small stories that are largely autobiographical snapshots of his life and thoughts. I would present these four films, in this order: Caro Diario, Palombella Rossa, Aprile, and The Son's Room. I may go into more detail about this a little later.

There are another three films which I think make an incredible trilogy: Lost in Translation, The Girl in the Cafe and My First Mister. They each share a common thread: Two people (an older man and a younger woman) find friendship in the midst of deep, undefined loneliness. These three films, placed side-by-side, are powerful and possess the ability to turn anger (often at the root of loneliness) into sadness. And it is in sadness that we are finally true.

Perhaps one day...

Rabbi Heschel

"When I was young, I used to admire intelligent people; as I grow older, I admire kind people."

That's a famous quote from the late Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, one of my spiritual mentors. His book, God in Search of Man, helped me to better understand the difference between knowing and kneeling. Last night I started his work on The Prophets, and already I can't wait to find more time to spend with it. If you haven't read him, I highly recommend his earthy and "lived" perspective on life with God.

"The Greeks learned in order to comprehend. The Hebrews learned in order to revere. The modern man learns in order to use."

"God is not a hypothesis derived from logical assumptions... He is not something to be sought in the darkness with the light of reason. He is the light."

Abstraction

I am prone to live in the world of abstraction. I enjoy philosophical language not only for it's poetry and ability to clarify, but because it can transport me into an ideal world. Unfortunately, we do not live in an ideal world. I was reading, re-reading, Subversive Spirituality by Eugene Peterson and he says that only stories can rescue us from abstraction. Once we lose our place in a Story, we tend to interpret the events in our lives disconnected from any greater meaning.

The lady who lives across the hall was arrested last night. Two police officers banged on her door, and in the matter of a minute or two, cuffed her and took her away. She talks to Annie almost every day, telling her about her recent divorce, custody battle and losing her daughter to her ex-husband. She's been drinking heavily nearly every day, and lost her job last week when she showed up drunk. She broke a restraining order yesterday, trying to get her daughter back. After the police took her, she never came home last night.

I tell you this because I have a question: How do you stay in a Story if the Story is filled with pain and heartbreak and loss? Peterson encourages us to revisit our Stories, to live in the concreteness of life, to abandon abstraction. I agree with him, but what he asks of us is almost impossible.

Peterson calls us to see our stories in the light of the bigger Story. Only there will the seemingly random occurences in our lives find the thread that will weave them all together.

Philosophy Football

If you like philosophy at all, these Monty Python clips, here and here, are a must watch.

Chicken Philosophy II

We continue to search for the secrets of the universe as the chicken crosses yet another road.

GEORGE W. BUSH: We don't really care why the chicken crossed the road. We just want to know if the chicken is on our side of the road, or not. The chicken is either against us, or for us. There is no middle ground here.

If there's any one man who exemplifies Either/Or thinking, it's President W. In the film The Princess and the Warrior, the protagonist is an ex-soldier who is expertly skilled in fighting and adapting to life-threatening situations. Yet, in the midst of battle, he weeps and continues to fight. His tears do not display weakness; they show us his strength. In the Lord of the Rings films, Aragorn fights for his rightful place as king, yet he does so with a moving combination of conviction and humility.

Are there any leaders in real life who can call us to more while also acknowledging our humanness?

DONALD RUMSFELD: Now to the left of the screen, you can clearly see the satellite image of the chicken crossing the road. Now watch as the F-15...

Fun vs. "meaningful"

My experiences on the 48 Hour Film Project have given me a lot to think about this past week. Nearly twenty years ago when I was a freshman in college, I did a project on Christian vs. secular filmmaking. I proposed that most Christian films ... well, they came up short. Short on plot, short on character development, short on storytelling. "Message" movies. Ugh.

I'm a co-leader of a "serious" documentary discussion group. We meet in a church (much to my chagrin), and there is always a Christian element to the gathering. Prayer at the end. Looking for the spiritual element in the films. I like films that are open ended, that don't answer all the questions; the audience, from the comments I receive, does not. Truth be told, I rarely enjoy these gatherings.

Yet, I loved working on the goofy and campy 48 HFP movie. It had no message. It didn't try to solve the world's problems or answer deep philosophical questions. It was just a chase film with some pretty bad acting. But I had a blast.

I assert the following:
1. Most Christian filmmakers (cut from the evangelical cloth, that is) misunderstand the ending of the book of Job. Is the end of Job a "and they lived happily ever after" ending? I don't know about you, but my wife and daughter are irreplaceable. Job may have received many blessings from God, but do you think that there wasn't one day that he woke up and didn't think about the family that he lost?

2. Most Christian filmmaker's stories are more shaped by Jonathan Edwards, Matthew Henry and John Owen than by Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. Christian filmmakers do not write and shoot their stories in a vacuum. Their stories spring from generations of influence. I wonder what kind of stories would be told if American filmmaker's theology was shaped by Soren Kierkegaard or Jurgen Moltmann?

3. Most Christian filmmakers "light" their stories with a 18K Fresnel when they should have used a 650 Mini-Softlite. Do the metaphors candle or salt mean anything anymore? Stop shining the spotlight when all you need is a small fill-light. Perhaps God has given you a lot of light; but maybe your glaringly bright light is only blinding me, and it's washing out the scene. Put a dimmer on that puppy.