Christian Realism

Capote
Director: Bennett Miller
Starring: Philip Seymour Hoffman, Catherine Keener, Chris Cooper
Trailer: www.sonyclassics.com/capote
Rated R for violent images and brief strong language

Reviewed by Paul Christian Glenn

New York literary darling Truman Capote was known for his flamboyant narcissism as much as his writing skill, and the new biopic bearing his name studies the unsettling ramifications of such singular devotion.

In 1958, following the success of Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Capote was the toast of the cultural elite, a lively and novel personality at the center of every swanky social event. His fey, disarming manner concealed a biting wit that won him more than a few enemies, but as a writing talent he was untouchable. So highly regarded was he, in fact, that when The New Yorker editor William Shawn read a preliminary excerpt of Capote’s true crime story In Cold Blood, he committed to publishing the completed work in its entirety, no matter how many issues it took.

Capote chronicles the six-year period during which our man researched and wrote In Cold Blood, which would become his greatest literary achievement. Unfortunately the success came, as it so often does, with a devastating price tag. Sensing that his book could be an unprecedented triumph, he found himself reaching further for the story than moral tethers would allow; dazzled by the promise of immortality, he cut the cords and set himself adrift. Under the subtle direction of Bennett Miller, this story of Capote’s deliberate surrender to ambition is quietly horrifying, and it may be the best picture of the year.

The story begins in 1959. After noticing a newspaper article about the brutal murders of an entire family in rural Kansas, Capote (Philip Seymour Hoffman) determines to make the killings the subject of his next book. With childhood friend Harper Lee in tow, he boards a train and heads for the heart of America.

Upon arrival, the conspicuous outsider sweet-talks his way into the confidences of investigator Alvin Dewey (Chris Cooper), and that association brings him close to the interior workings of the case. Once inside, however, Capote is drawn to the murderers, mesmerized by their moral vacancy. He begins a dialogue with Perry Smith, the quieter of the two killers, and uses his powers of manipulation to cast an emotional spell over the troubled young drifter. As Smith spills his guts, Capote records every detail and gasps to his friends that the kid is “a gold mine.” When the killers are quickly convicted, Capote uses his wealth and influence to recruit savvy lawyers who can protract the appeals process long enough for him to get the complete story.

Getting such a sensational story straight from the killer’s mouth would be a scoop for any journalist, but Capote was writing a “non-fiction novel,” and he needed denouement. As the appeals process dragged from months into years, he grew increasingly obsessed with his unfinished masterpiece, at one point grumbling to an incredulous Lee, “If they win this appeal, I’ll have a complete nervous breakdown. I can only pray it goes my way.”

They did not win, and when the time came for a final appeal, Capote could hold out no longer. Cruelly dropping all but faintest pretense of concern, he cut off his support from the men — and inevitably got his ending.

In Cold Blood was published to critical acclaim and smashing commercial success. Capote became an icon, descended into alcoholism, and never completed another book. By the age of 59, he drank himself to death.

Philip Seymour Hoffman is without a doubt the most talented actor working in Hollywood. Playing a man who was practically a caricature in real life, he makes Capote’s striking eccentricities seem as natural as breathing. Even more impressive, however, is his portrayal of the struggle occurring just below the surface of Capote’s consciousness. Here is a man who cannot bear to see what he is doing, and so he looks past it, searching for redemption even as he’s committing the sin.

Toward the end of the film, when a tearful Capote tells Lee, “I did everything I could. I truly did,” we have the mournful feeling that he’s right. A stronger man could have done more, but Capote had done everything in his power. In the end, it wasn’t enough, not for Perry Smith and Richard Hickcock, and not for Capote himself.

Here’s an article on how the idea of ‘positive review’ is changing, and the Internet’s role in that change.

Short version: with so many niche sources of reviews available, ‘big name’ reviews are becoming more and more meaningless. Look hard enough, and anyone can find a positive review. Putting the blurb on your book/movie/whatever is no longer considered A Good Thing ™. Who cares if the NYTimes thinks this book is good? Or the Denver Post? Or the Seattle P-I? What does Joe Friend think, whose opinion I know and value?

Viva niche reviews on the Internet!

Good Night, and Good Luck
Director: George Clooney
Starring: David Strathairn, George Clooney, Robert Downey, Jr.
Trailer: wip.warnerbros.com/goodnightgoodluck
Rated PG for mild thematic elements and brief language

Reviewed by Paul Christian Glenn

Back in 1994, when a flashy medical soap called ER took television by storm, who could’ve guessed that resident man-meat George Clooney would eventually evolve into one of the more interesting filmmakers in Hollywood? Just three years after leaving the smash series, Clooney made his directorial debut with 2002’s criminally overlooked Confessions of a Dangerous Mind, a taut, inventive little thriller based on the fantastic delusions of legendary game show host Chuck Barris.

Now, with Good Night, and Good Luck, Clooney returns to the milieu of vintage television, and this time he’s got something more serious on his mind - but don’t let that scare you off. Clooney may be known for his political activism, but his priorities are in order here, and he’s crafted a highly entertaining film that wastes not a moment on ponderous pontificating.

David Strathairn stars as Edward R. Murrow, the venerable CBS newsman who, along with producer Fred Friendly, waged a dangerous polemic against Senator Joseph McCarthy, whose accusations of pinko sympathy within the U.S. government were reaching a fever pitch. History reassures us that McCarthy was eventually censured by the Senate, and his foes largely escaped with their reputations intact, but at the height of the “Red Scare,” the political atmosphere was charged with paranoia, and no public or private figure was beyond McCarthy’s ambitious reach.

The film is presented in black and white, befitting a story that earnestly and endearingly paints its characters the same way. There is one brief scene where a member of Murrow’s staff quietly wonders if McCarthy may be right, but the moment feels obligatory. We’re not meant to wonder where the truth lies; this is the Star Wars of political journalism tales, with virtuous heroes and black-hatted bad guys. Nevermind that McCarthy was partially vindicated when the VENONA transcripts were declassified, it was the abuse of power and disregard for personal liberty that Murrow could not abide, and for that conviction Clooney sees Murrow as a hero. There is a naivete to this kind of storytelling, yes. But every once in a while we need a movie like this to remind us that there are still some ideals worth fighting for, quaint though they may seem.

All this is told with refreshing economy. The script, written by Clooney and Grant Heslov, is unconcerned with Murrow’s private life, and by foregoing any manufactured personal drama, Clooney keeps the pace brisk and pulls the whole thing together in less than 90 minutes. The dialogue is delicious; sharp and funny without resorting to the insufferable, strutting, self-conscious repartee that has infected so many television dramas in recent years.

Strathairn, of course, has received an Oscar nomination for his portrayal of Murrow, and Clooney brings his effortless affability to the role of Fred Friendly. Frank Langella, Jeff Daniels and Robert Downey, Jr. make strong impressions in small roles, and Ray Wise, who memorably creeped out Twin Peaks fans 13 years ago, turns in a particularly poignant performance as persecuted reporter Don Hollenbeck.

With Good Night, and Good Luck, George Clooney confirms that once his white-hot celebrity status fades, he can look forward to a significant career behind the camera.

Brokeback Mountain
Director: Ang Lee
Starring: Heath Ledger, Jake Gyllenhaal, Michelle Williams
Trailer: www.apple.com/trailers/focus_features/brokeback_mountain
Rated R for sexuality, language and some drug use

Reviewed by Paul Christian Glenn

It’s easier, I suppose, to sell Brokeback Mountain as an epic love story than as a dreary tale of frustration and misery. Ads for the film portray sweeping scenes of natural beauty accompanied by swelling romantic strings, encouraging the viewer to think of it as Gone With the Wind for the new millennium, and the campaign appears to have worked. Kenneth Turan of the L.A. Times says “It’s a deeply felt, emotional love story … the two lovers here just happen to be men,” while Peter Travers of Rolling Stone calls it “a defiantly erotic love story.”

But these are incredibly superficial readings of the film, which is worthwhile viewing for Christians and secularists alike. Ang Lee’s latest treatise on emotional suppression is a dark and truthful film about fear, pride, failure and betrayal. If love exists anywhere in this story, it is only as a theory, an untried hypothesis that haunts every character.

By now you probably know the story. The year is 1963. Two teenage drifters are hired to herd sheep on a remote mountain in the scenic wilds of Wyoming. Ennis Del Mar (Heath Ledger) is a stoic John Wayne type, while Jack Twist (Jake Gyllenhaal) is talkative and friendly, but far removed from the rest of the world, the hardened young cowboys discover that they have much in common. Both have been cast off by their families, both have a love for the great outdoors, and both dream of making a better life for themselves.

One particularly cold night, after the whiskey bottle has been emptied, the two climb under the same blanket and find themselves submitting to strange temptations. The sex is rough and awkward, and when morning light comes, they can barely look at one another. That initial encounter leads to another, however, and soon they accept their situation as “a one shot deal - nobody’s business but ours.”

The season ends and they go their separate ways. Both go on to marry unsuspecting young women and start conventional families, but within a few years Jack tracks Ennis down, and when they meet again they immediately pick up where they left off.

And this is where the “love” story becomes muddled, for rather than painting Jack and Ennis as innocent star-crossed lovers, the filmmakers allow the characters to become self-centered abusers who emotionally abandon their wives and children. Over the next two decades, the rough riders take frequent “fishing trips” together, escaping to the wild and trying desperately to recapture the magic of Brokeback Mountain. But as their home lives crumble and resentment takes root in their relationship, it becomes obvious that “happily ever after” is not in the cards for Jack and Ennis.

Director Ang Lee, who has dealt with themes of repression before in both Hulk and Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, must be commended for not romanticizing the central relationship here. Lesser storytellers would have banished the wives to the background or portrayed them as villains, but Lee allows us to feel the pain of betrayal as these innocent victims realize the men they love are liars and cowards. Michelle Williams, in particular, delivers a powerful performance as Ennis’ wife, who discovers her husband’s secret early on and suffers for years in excruciating silence.

It is, however, Ennis himself to whom this picture truly belongs. Heath Ledger’s nuanced performance is so deeply internalized that he draws every element on the screen inexorably toward him. Hiding beneath his battered cowboy hat and swallowing more words than he’ll ever speak, Ennis Del Mar is one of the truest and most heartbreaking characters you’ll ever see. When he sobs angrily at Jack, “You’re the reason I’m like this! I ain’t got nothing … I ain’t nowhere … I can’t stand being like this no more,” it is a rage of self-hatred, a confused and broken man pushing away the only person who truly knows him. He might as well be screaming at God.

Clearly, we mustn’t let emotionalism cloud our understanding of the issues at hand in this movie, but the uproar from Christian political organizations is a bit puzzling. The multiplex is filled with movies that endorse all manner of sin, sexual and otherwise, but nobody’s boycotting those flicks. Is heterosexual sin no longer an issue? Why be especially worried about this particular film?

Like any good story, this one doesn’t preach at us. The behaviors of Jack and Ennis are never excused, they are only observed, and as often as not, the observation is damning. Yes, this story is sympathetic to gay characters, but is there any reason why Christians shouldn’t feel for these two wounded individuals? Brokeback Mountain doesn’t ask us to make a judgement about homosexuality, it asks if we can feel empathy and compassion for these desperate characters who have lost themselves completely. It’s a question the church should be ready to answer.

Note: This movie contains a homosexual sex scene, which, while not explicit, is unflinching. There is no nudity during the scene, but it’s likely to make the average viewer uncomfortable.

Second Note: The film also features several heterosexual sex scenes containing female nudity, but I haven’t heard any objections about that.

Three more books read, bringing the total to six this year:

(1) Biblical Eldership by Alexander Strauch. Not much to comment on: I read it as part of the ‘leadership training’ at church. I’ve done pretty good studies of this subject in the past, so there was very little new material; most of it was review.

(2) All of Grace by Spurgeon. Another book as part of leadership training. Spurgeon always strikes me the same way, no matter what I read by him: very theologically sound, but not very deep. This book was no exception. Spurgeon is more homiletic and devotional in his style, so I always end up wondering why I just read 100 (or whatever) pages of something that I could paraphrase in about 3 pages, if I got verbose.

(3) Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown. OK, I admit, I succumbed and finally read the book. Man, what a royal waste of time. This was agenda-driven pablum if there ever was some. I’m not even ranting about how Brown’s agenda goes against both history and what I believe. Sure, that irritated me, but I was prepared for it. I was also prepared for it being poorly written, but the first sentence totally floored me: “Renowned curator Jacques Sauniere staggered through the vaulted archway of the museum’s Grand Gallery.” That has got to be the worst example of info-dumping I have ever encountered. As one of the editors of Deep Magic I have the fortune of reading lots and lots of very poorly written submissions, and this opening sentence had me grabbing my red pencil immediately. “Renowned curator” has absolutely nothing to do with showing the reader what’s going on, but everything to do with cramming info into the reader’s head. Two sentences later we get, “Grabbing the gilded frame, the seventy-six-year-old man heaved…”. Why tell us his age? What does that have to do with anything at this point? Simply put, there’s no reason, other than Brown needs us to know that information and he’s not talented enough to give it to us any other way than this info-dumping.

(Spoiler warning: if you haven’t read the book, the following might ruin the one little joy the book holds: a plot that keeps you only somewhat interested.)

What I found just as irritating is that the whole ‘mystery’ in this novel is totally unnecessary. Sauniere, upon realizing he’s dying (a bullet wound to the stomach was his first clue), realizes he needs to impart the information on where to find the Holy Grail, but he does this in such a cryptic way that the rest of the book is our hero and heroine trying to discover this while the villain tries to discover it also. There’s this sense of urgency that what Sauniere is revealing is information that dies with him if he doesn’t pass it on. But when all is revealed in the end, we learn that there’re a whole bunch of people who know exactly what Sauniere was trying to hide. In other words, the whole plot is about as pointless as you can get.

It’s obvious that Brown’s whole point is to put forth his silly ‘goddess worship is really what Christianity was about until it was taken over by those golly-gosh-darn mean men’ agenda. And this is what irks me the most: it’s nothing but blatant proselytizing! Chick tracks have more artistic merit than this book does. It’s reduced to nothing more than a bludgeoning over the head for the reader. And this is exactly what I find wrong with so much evangeli-fiction that is published today; it’s just the shoe is on the other foot.