In one of Ingmar Bergman’s most reflective and personal works “Wild Strawberries, we find the story of an aging and prosperous man looking back on his life as he struggles to find meaning in his accomplishments. On the cusp of receiving a lifetime achievement award, he struggles with feelings of insignificance and purposeless as he searches for some kind of narrative to which he can feel he belongs. It reminds me of powerful A Man Called Ove, another story about an aging man stuck with feelings of insignificance and purposeless, although his journey is shaped by grief.

It’s a powerful film from one of Sweden’s most celebrated Directors, and in no small way this film captures the spirit of Swedish film history in a significant and powerful fashion, a history that mirrors the story of the Country these films have helped define.

Neutrality, Drama, and Cinematic Storytelling
Perhaps most significant is Sweden’s long history of neutrality. As the rest of world twisted and struggled around it, Sweden managed to remain largely unscathed, finding economic prosperity and stability in times where other Countries were left to rebuild.

This same trajectory follows the Country into the modern age, setting the stage early for the development of a strong social system, a unifying characteristic of Sweden’s national and civic expression. This is a Country that has found “cooperation” between all levels of of class and sector, allowing it to avoid the class divisions that tend to define so much of film worldwide as democracies struggled to emerge. One thing that’s important to recognize here as well is that if you follow Sweden’s cinematic growth, unlike other industrialized nations it remains decidedly unindustrialized, having no real need to get wrapped up in the business of it all because of the way the Country has functioned as a welfare state. This protects it from the trappings of the movie star that we see in many other Countries, as well as distinctions between filmmaker and film viewer. There is much to learn from Sweden in this regard.

Which is simply to say, if film tells the story of a Country’s struggle, often giving voice to the people as they try to make sense of their nations “story” and their role in it, what happens to cinema in a Country where these common human dramas, save for the rare economic struggles that would emerge late in the modern era (perhaps due to their commitment to those same social policies)? What kind of stories do you tell in a landscape that is decidedly undramatic, cinematically speaking?

For Sweden, they tend to turn their stories inwards into self reflective pieces. And they contain a surprising amount of spiritual reflection as well, inspired by Bergman but also reaching back into the fabric of early Swedish film as well. When you aren’t talking about wars and socio-economic instability, it leaves plenty of room to consider those deeper questions, and not unlike the aging man in Wild Strawberries this becomes a means of finding significance in a life that seems and feels methodical and perhaps predetermined. With the lack of outside forces motivating their story in one way or another, they are left to find meaning, and even wrestle it out of their story.

Cinematic Identity, Industry and Invention
In the early 1900’s, Sweden travels a similar path as most of Europe, emerging around 1907 and becoming “organized” between the years of 1910 and 1920, particularly with the development of the “Svensk Filmindustri”.

And while Sweden avoided many of the trappings of industry, most sources recognize its desire to develop Swedish films and bring them to the “world’s stage”. Their unifying social character benefited them to this end, allowing Swedish films to develop a real identity in the silent age, accentuating the Swedish northern landscape and its unique lights, shooting on location and getting creative with exposure. And early on, which you can see in classic films like Sir Arne’s Treasure and the Phantom Carriage, Haxan, there is a dedication to inventive narrative structures emerging as well, bringing to light the sort of introspective, spiritually concerned stories that Bergman would later refine and make ultimately familiar.

Ingmar Bergman and the Evolution of the Swedish New Wave
And it would be impossible not to speak of Sweden and find yourself somewhere in Ingmar Bergman’s extensive filmography. One of my personal favorites is The Seventh Seal, an existential quest to find the spiritual in the everyday, using strong allegory and Biblical imagery to bring its story to life in a powerful way.

As one description I saw described Bergman’s films, they “illustrate the internal struggles of individuals, particularly through such themes as isolation, religious doubt, and insanity while using the landscapes of his country combined with creative composition and editing styles to reflect his ideas.” This is a great article on his aesthetic: https://theculturetrip.com/europe/sweden/articles/bergman-and-the-swedish-aesthetic/_

But what might be worth pointing out even more so, given one could dwell on his filmography for a good length of time and still not exhaust the commentary and perspective available, is just how long Bergman stood as the face of Swedish film, essentially emerging in the post war period, a time of relative stability, opportunity and global reach for neutral Sweden left relatively untouched and unscathed, and defining its trajectory both locally and even more so internationally. Which is great for Swedish film. With his rise after the war, Sweden was able to stay creative and influential as an industry while others were not. However, this also created challenges for Swedish society as the years moved forward, given the long shadow that he cast, particularly in a society that was still largely patriarchal.

So perhaps the most interesting faze to consider in Swedish cinema is its New Wave, a period of filmmaking that would emerge in the wake of Bergman’s peak and into his retirement as we lead into the new millenium.

All a New Wave suggests is a period of time in which we see a burst of fresh creativity and prosperity, new styles of film emerge, and a reinvigorated spirit and potential for filmmakers, much like the one we see in the post war period with Bergman. Leading up to this period would see a host of young filmmakers gradually stepping into the industry, breathing into it certain liberties and social expressions that could push its boundaries and allow it to recreate itself with time. It certainly helped that emerging with this fairly modern new wave in the new millenium were some economic struggles that added to the Swedish story, giving these filmmakers something to comment on on a domestic level. This reinvigorated these films with social interest, new genres and focuses, and more importantly began addressing the lack of female auteurs (Pernille Fischer Christensen’s Becoming Astrid being one of my most recent favorites).

What’s interesting too about this most recent New Wave is that one could see it from the larger perspective of Scandinavian films and Nordic Cinema, something it shares in common with the Scandinavian Nations that surround it. There is a shared story here, one that perhaps gets richer once boundaries have been broken and socialist states and cultures that did get wrecked by the war, civil issues and economic problems can speak to one another more liberally and effectively. Heck, even my home Country of Canada has a real interest in these modern narratives, as they can help shed light on how to navigate certain socio-political ideas on a human level, particularly as we look at our Swedish immigrant roots. It’s in ways like this where film can play a powerful role in helping foster dialogue among cultures, and it is what continues to make Sweden a fascinating Country and narrative to discover and explore on a cinematic level.

Here is the List of Films That I watched for my cinematic travels through Sweden, ranked and reviewed:
https://letterboxd.com/davetcourt/list/film-travels-2020-sweden-in-process/

SOURCES
https://swedishsushibeardnets.wordpress.com/2014/11/18/sweden/
http://blogs.studyinsweden.se/2017/03/21/swedish_cinema_history_part1/

https://www.academia.edu/5943663/A_short_history_of_Swedish_cinema
http://www.svenskfilmdatabas.se/en/the_golden_age_of_cinema/
a brief history of Swedish film

Click to access experimental_utan_bilder.pdf

https://www.sweden.org.za/sweden-cinema.html
https://books.google.ca/books?id=krlcCgAAQBAJ&pg=PA48&lpg=PA48&dq=Did+Swedish+silent+films+use+double+exposure&source=bl&ots=6vXbsMiU9Z&sig=ACfU3U1iakkS_CYHI1-eHQodpG4b66sHDw&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjckueVrbnoAhUSpZ4KHczCAtUQ6AEwA3oECAkQAQ#v=onepage&q=Did%20Swedish%20silent%20films%20use%20double%20exposure&f=false

Is There a Swedish New Wave?

Given the infamous position the Lumiere Brothers have as the pioneers of early cinema,
(and coincidentally, the anniversary of their Cinematographe was a couple days ago),

https://www.indiewire.com/2020/03/lumiere-brothers-workers-leaving-factory-anniversary-1202219698/?fbclid=IwAR0RsjHaKTgh4Xt5wYGNWicdfVAjzXnA2jILimSHoPoP3RQ8L1_KI7UFer8

perhaps slightly less aware is the competing story of two German inventors, Max and Emil Skladanowsky, the creators of the Bioscop, a film projector eventually proved to be inferior to the lumiere brother’s creation. 

Fun fact. The screenings of the Bioscop were actually the first payed screenings of moving pictures in Europe (November 1st, 1895 in a restaurant called Feldschlößchen), and actually played a vital role in the development of German cinema and its influence on cinematic history despite it being short lived.

Recognized in history as the birth of a theoretical idea now called the “cinema of attraction” (by a film theorist named Tom Gunning), the early years of German cinema for the most part travels a similar line as much of Europe in that it continued to balance the allure of this new thing called the “moving image” with the perception of it as either art or entertainment. These travelling projections, or the German Kintopp as they came to be called, moved through the Country capturing the imagination of its people through the power of the image, using visuals to evoke emotions (the root of cinema of attraction).

As history goes, the fascination with seeing moving pictures on screen eventually led to the creation of something more concrete being established within the German landscape, with the Kammerlichtspiele Cinema in Berlin 1912 being the first cinema of note, but with cinemas emerging in places like Mannheim as early as 1906.

Cinema and Class Structures
What is interesting to note about these early years of travelling entertainment within Germany, and eventually the glorious German architecture that would follow, is that even in its formative years cinema was functioning as a commentary on class. According to many of the sources I encountered, the novelty of these pictures eventually gave way to popularity, shifting its focus to lower and middle class audiences. The popularity of the medium in Germany began to divert the higher classes away, causing them to dismiss it as frivolous entertainment. It would be later though, as the idea of film began to take concrete shape in the form of a more visible architectural presence, that it began to be considered as serious art.

This relationship between film and class continues throughout German cinematic history, with this social concern informing everything from German expressionism, Nazi propaganda, post war cinema, to the eventual re-education purposes entering into the modern age. But intiatilly, with this history comes the building of these grand cinemas, their destruction in the wars, in Germany’s post war period their reconstruction amidst the East-West divide and the American funding that allowed West Germany to begin to redevelop, and ultimately their familiar deconstruction once again with the onset of tv, a familiar epidemic that exists in similar form across Europe.

If I can backtrack a bit to the early 1900’s and the emergence of German cinema as a concrete form, a part of what moved film from a lower class distraction to an upper class and distinguished artform was the connection of cinema in Germany to its formative influence on oral, literature and cultural German storytelling methods. What made films in Germany artistic was its connection to “literary form”, which itself connected back to Germany’s historical positioning as some of the earliest storytellers to influence modern forms. This provides cinema with a foundation on which to grow in form as well as a new way of expressing shared themes and ideas.

It is out of this that German cinema is able to gain an intellectual presence, developing different styles and methods such as Schaulust (literally translated visual pleasure), which grew to become the most prominent and distinguishable characteristic of German cinema and cinematic criticism. As Walter Serner writes, “If one looks to where cinema receives its ultimate power, into these strangely flickering eyes that point far back into human history, suddenly it stands there in all its massiveness: visual pleasure (Schaulust).” And these distinct visual forms emerge from Germany’s rich history of storytelling.

What might be more interesting though is Germany’s more recent cinematic history, particularly in the years following re-unification. On a superficial level there are many ways in which it appears to mirror the development of the multiplex that we see in America, with cinemas at first spanning out into smaller and more modest venues called KoKis (Independent Cinemas meant to protect the virtue of cinema), and then ultimately growing into the big box centers that are about more than just the screen and the film. But where America’s movement created something entirely other, buildings that mirror their capitalist agendas rather than offering any clear connection to some idea of its cinematic history, in Germany the movement was and is an attempt to reconnect to the glorious buildings of their past. As film studies expert Jan Phillips writes, “In contrast to the homogenous multiplexes, the focus here is on the cinema theatre itself – which consciously reflects the glamour of the picture houses of a bygone era.” As I will touch on more below, this connection to building and art, people and architecture is a defining part of German culture and its cinematic tradition.

A National and International Cinematic Industry
The more I travel the world through film, the more common and aware the relationship between the building of a National Film Industry and the pressures of an International Industry becomes. A strong, localized Industry is vital to the health of a given Country, not just on an economic level but on a social level. And what is most important about this fact is that the history of cinema holds a deep and very real connection to the development of a Country’s ethos, identity and social awareness. This is at least in part because of the ways it has replaced (in the modern age) the theater as the means through which a Country is able to form (through the telling and retelling of their stories in a shared and public fashion) a collective narrative and recognizable identity. Film has the power to unify people around an idea and a purpose in a way that other artforms cannot.

Even more so, these stories become the lens through which people are able to both understand their history and the means by which they are able to express their experience of it. It gives voice to their past, their present and actively imagines their future, thus giving the people confidence to then step out into a more global reality. This is why you see so many of Countries in their pre and post war periods developing their industries and investing in their filmmakers as part of a renewed National vision and value. This is also where, in times of struggle, Countries with power are those with established arts (film industries), holding a strong national identity that is able to carry and influence abroad.

As Jochen Kurten writes in the article,

“Fact and Fiction: German Films and History”, “More than any book or exhibition, even more than school lessons, popular feature films influence Germans’ image of their own history. That is not new knowledge perhaps, nor is it surprising. But as articulated by Hans Walter Hütter, director of the “Haus der Geschichte der Bundesrepublik Deutschland” (House of History of the Federal Republic of Germany), the claim carries a lot of weight.”

A real problem arises when a Country needs to rebuild but is left unable to rise above the foreign influences and pressures that holds them captive. This was and is true for Germany, which found so many of its citizens having moved away and now living on American and foreign soil. Without those creatives who are able to help give voice to the narrative of the Country as it is being experienced, Germany has found itself being overshadowed by the perspective of those living abroad viewing the Country from a distance and a localized industry that has failed to capture its true ethos in a visible way.

I can say, of all the Country’s I have visited so far, either in part or in full, Germany is so far the most unique in this regard. Their history is entrenched in this national-international narrative. This is a very simplified analysis of a complex discussion, but what adds to this picture is that Germany’s lengthy and difficult political story also dictated its cinematic history towards the path it eventually followed, forming its cinematic landscape in ways that were more beholden to oppression than liberation. As the wonderful 2018 Hitlers Hollywood shows, when the cinema that is there becomes the voice of a dictator and regime, the story of its people gets muddied and confused. This is why movements like Italian Neo-Realism were so influential and so important. They helped rebuild their Country’s through film that became the voice of the people, interested in capturing their reality and their concern.

To this end, the biggest hurdle that German Cinema faced and continues to face is the fact that it has been left scattered by its relationship to international borders and its in-Country conflict, causing what began as one of the most promising centers for cinematic development (as represented in their architectural history, preserved, rebuilt and destroyed, their innovation and their early films), to give way to period after period of mass exoduses of Germans to foreign soil, with (as mentioned) one of the primary  exoduses being the eventual establishment of German cinema now being made from American soil and as American films by German Americans. European influence early on (France, Italy and Denmark) quickly gave way to the gradual Americanization of German culture, of which a byproduct was an unfortunate disassociation from the history that had informed the German peoples experiences. This is something, as a people, they are still trying to overcome, and the future of German film plays a vital role in re-establishing these connections.

Cinema, Early Expressionism and Politics
One can then add to this the difficult history Germany has faced on a socio-political level, moving through the two World Wars and towards eventual re-unification of East and West. The decision to ban imported films in both world wars, including French Film, had a two-fold effect. On one hand it did help to protect a “distinctly German cinematic identity.” Consider the Weimar period, a complex and problematic interwar era that, despite its early struggles to create a true Democracy and the infamous Article 48 that paved the way for Hitler, gave rise to some of a period of stability and cultural reform in German Expressionism and Chamber Dramas, even advancing the art of film itself. German Expressionism is heavy in symbolism and imagery, not coincidentally evoking new class distinctions and a high level of social commentary. It was a way of understanding the German experience through stylings that were unique to their form of storytelling. It reflected the voice of the people in a time of change, a drastic contrast to the Country under Nazi rule.

Even a most cursory look at Expressionism can tell you that it was interested in using style to say something about what the people were thinking, feeling and fearing. It lends itself readily to the horror genre, but expands beyond it. Even more so perhaps, Chamber Dramas, translated from the German word Kammerspielfilm which means “an intimate, cinematic portrait of lower middle class life”, comes from a style of German theater that is very sparse and very simple and has an interest in character over movement, examining the motivations of a character rather than depicting a story arc. These were perhaps the flip side of expressionism which tended to be more grand displays of cinematic fervor. Chamber films were intimate with a specific interest in digging underneath the German Psyche.

Also not surprising is the deep conviction of German Expressionism to the rejection of Western ideas and ideologies. Even then it knew the dangers of being absorbed by an international identity, and it is one of the reasons why the genre and style is still the most recognizable German collection of films on an international level. It is through both Expressionism and Chamber Dramas, among other German styles and movements, that we are able to recognize, for example, the deep connection with Germans to architecture and cityscape, buildings, streets and civic life. Knowing this can help one understand the devastation that their destruction had on their physical and emotional landscape, the motivation they had for rebuilding the old, and the power that held in giving them a future.

But whatever periods of potential and creativity that we find and discover, we also know that we are never far away from another war, another divide or another political battle, many of which decimated and or controlled the culture, architecture and national identity in its wake. With the wars came bans on importing international films and exporting German films, with subsequent Government control banning and directing what kind of films could then be seen and made. This cut off lines of artistic influence altogether, and even more tragically so abruptly. Films then turn towards propaganda with history becoming confused, the voice of the people left fighting to be heard and largely marginalized in its course.

The irony of this is that over this same period of time it could be said that Germans have had the single greatest influence on American film in its illustrious history. But that comes at the expense of being able to see and understand Germany’s cultural identity from the context of its own soil, and it has impeded its ability to heal and reform as a Country from so many of these experiences.

Facing A Persisting Cinematic Problem 
To say this another way, German film is thus caught in a catch 22. Their banning of international films led to their films not being recognized outside of their borders, which led to a declining interest in film overall, which led to a lack of creatives willing and able to make films that reflect their own story from their own perspective.

As a few articles suggested, they have tried to come up with solutions but have never really regained their footing and their ability to be inventive. They have lost a national identity both inwards and outwards, with most of the success coming from international partnerships these days and German filmmakers making and producing abroad.

As one article puts it,

“Germans, like many of their European neighbors, offer government subsidies to their filmmakers in an effort to encourage domestic motion picture production. Europeans, including the Germans, have traditionally tended to regard filmmaking as an art rather than a business. Because the resulting European films are often limited-budget, intellectually challenging productions that lack the Hollywood big-star, action/blockbuster formula, their mass appeal has been limited.”

(Further) “It is ironic, then, that the German film diet of today is predominantly Anglo-American, especially in light of Germany’s historical role in world cinema. Almost from the first days of motion pictures, both the Austrians and Germans were at the cinematic forefront, exerting great influence over the medium. And yet years of migration have made their cinematic presence in America far greater than it is in their own Country.”
(Cinema in Germany)

Germany, unlike Ireland (which I visited before travelling to Germany cinematically speaking), was never able to reconcile this predominantly Anglo-American influence with a vigorous longing to return to their homeland. Whereas the Irish have created movements meant to reclaim their heritage and rebuild their culture through Irish Cinema, Germany continues to wrestle with its complex relationship with its past and present and future, consequently struggling to find its place in the cinematic world as its creatives remain scattered abroad.

(And yet) Authentically “German” films are still every bit as important now as they have always been, and have even persisted in some surprising ways that are not always easy to recognize in an increasingly global climate. These films are important because they help one to not forget their past but to face it, to remember it and build towards a stronger future.

This is why, seeing beyond even expressionist film, recognizing movements like New Objectivity, which like Chamber Films existed as a parallel and counter to expressionist film in that it traded the expression for realism, Trummerfilm (literally “rubble film”), which distinguished films captured right after the war in the rubble of its aftermath (films largely interested in the theme of rebuilding such as “Somewhere in Berlin”), Heimatfilm (“homeland film”), which spans that post war period up until the 70’s with films interested in generational contrasts and the relationship between rural and urban life, is important to understanding Germany as a Country. All of the genre and style distinctives that do still exist with German cinema are important because they can protect and record the history of the people amidst the upheaval and the rebuilding. This is true today even with viewing films (like the Nazi Propaganda films, and even the post war films where one can see a clear agenda covering up the reality) that confused their history and manipulated it. They tell a part of their story that is worth remembering and making sense of, and provide an overarching narrative that one can look back on, think and reflect upon and piece together in a meaningful way. They also allow one to hear and see the voice of the people being expressed in the midst of trying times, offering us a glimpse of those who tried to stand up against that which was not right and tell stories that reflected their actual experience.

And seeing and supporting modern German films today becomes vital to learning and capturing and recapturing the true German spirit now. It might take more work to uncover these films than in other Countries but it is worth the investment whether one is German or not. Because one thing is true, for all that the German people have witnessed and lived through and had to overcome, they have so many stories worth telling, a strong storytelling culture to pass on and preserve, and a culture worth celebrating in its immense potential to impact the cinema of tomorrow.

*MY JOURNEY THROUGH GERMAN CINEMA
Here is a link to my working (and ranked) list of German films from my travels. There are of course many that I can still add, and I will continue to do so as I get a chance.
https://letterboxd.com/davetcourt/list/film-travels-2020-germany-in-process/

SOURCES
https://www.goethe.de/en/kul/flm/20652941.html
https://www.german-way.com/history-and-culture/germany/cinema-in-germany/
https://www.dw.com/en/fact-and-fiction-german-films-and-history/a-19321099
https://u.osu.edu/berlin2798horstbuchholz/2015/05/22/a-brief-history-of-german-cinema/
A Critical History of German Film by Stephen Brockmann
https://www.britannica.com/place/Germany/Film
The German Cinema Book by Tim Bergfelder
The Promise of Cinema: German Film Theory, 1907–1933 by Anton Kaes, Nicholas Baer, Michael Cowan
https://pro.europeana.eu/data/cinema-of-attraction
Hollywood in Berlin: American Cinema and Weimar Germany By Thomas J. Saunders
Feinstein, Joshua (1999). Constructing the Mythic Present in the East German Cinema: Frank Beyer’s ‘Spur Der Steine’ and the 11th Plenum of 1965.

For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light… everything exposed by the light becomes visible—and everything that is illuminated becomes a light.”
– Ephesians 5:8-14

What is the meaning of the darkness?
At the core of this question in A Hidden Life, Terrence Malick’s latest film, is that familiar visual sense that has come to define his style. Here he weaves darkness and light as both literal cinematic functions and metaphorical human experience together into a marvelous and uncertain dance of existential longing. As a big fan of Malick, particularly the equally contemplative and sensory experience of the Tree of Life, what I found in his latest work is an unexpected maturity and a willingness to ground his artistic vision in something a bit more accessible.

What might be most profound about the journey that A Hidden Life invites us to take as viewers into this inevitable and uncertain dance is that it resists the urge to paint this as a singular trajectory from the darkness to light. As one character surmises late in this story, even when it is raining the sun doesn’t stop shining. The implication is that we don’t always see the sun in light of our experiences, leaving us to wrestle, to question and to doubt when the darkness grows.

Which is precisely were we find the family whom occupy the heart of this film. A family of faith and optimism suddenly caught between the ever pressing darkness and the seemingly distant light. Faith exists for this family as a constant, a given, a gift. But God’s faithfulness also proves to be allusive, distant at difficult to understand. This is the internal struggle, the inward journey this family is forced to take and carry in the face of this darkness.

Where The Darkness Hides The Light
Hanne Johnson, a ministry leader in the Covenant Church of Canada recently penned a Lenten devotional on the verse I quote above, and in that devotional she writes concerning this imagery of the light and the darkness,

“The most beautiful thing about this light imagery is that darkness explained is the absence of light. Not the other way around. Once there is light, there is no longer darkness,” for as it says “Everything that is illuminated becomes light.”

In reflecting on the story of A Hidden Life, its images flowing through my memory and my meditation, I found this truth about the nature of light and darkness to be helpful. Because often what makes the darkness most difficult is when the darkness is all that we can see. And the reason the darkness is all we see is because the darkness comes in our suffering.

In the case of the film, suffering becomes the overarching theme, one that the film returns to over and over again as the source of the darkness. In suffering they try to make sense of their faith, coming back to the imposing reality of this darkness as one that is desperate for answers and unclear even of the right questions as it invades their world, their village, and the choices they are forced to make in one direction or another.

In the midst of the suffering the darkness appears to veil God from their sight. What invades the darkness though is this deeply ingrained sense or spirit led nudging that the light still shine and wants to unveil God to them in all God’s mystery and love.

Where The Darkness Reveals The Light 
As the Mayor of the village laments (and then professes) early on in the film, “This is what happens when the world dies. Men survive. But here (in this village, in them) life is gone. Their reasoning for living gone.” This is why they seemingly must choose to look out for them selves regardless of what this might mean for the lives of others.

The backdrop for the story in A Hidden Life is Nazi rule and Hitlers reign, with the persecution of those deemed inferior and a hindrance to their prospering the thing that is immediately informing their quiet Austrian village life and something they are forced to embrace. The above lament from the Mayor quickly turns into an unsettling form of defiant proclamation, causing the Mayor of a small Austrian village to remind the villagers that there are those he believes would impede on their ability to live good and happy lives, and thus they must support them in their efforts for their sake.

This causes tension when Franz, the father and husband of the family that lies at the centre of this story, is unable to reconcile his experience as a soldier and the unjust treatment of others with his appeal for a comfortable and happy life. He is a conscientious objector, and for him, Nazi rule is not something they can ignore and is something that stands opposed to the tenants of his (and their) faith.

And so he decides to stay true to his convictions, what he believes to be right and true according to God, virtue and conscience. Only what persists is the reality that the more they attempt to believe in and stand by what is right, the more suffering that seems to befall them, a reality made all the more prevalent as they continue to look out at the suffering of the world wondering how and why God would allow such darkness to exist and persist in the first place.

Where are you God when all we see is darkness.
As Hanne so aptly wrote in her devotional , to see and experience the light is to have it inform the darkness, and in doing so expose it to the light. This is the truth that A Hidden Life wants to point us towards and help uncover. In one sense, to make sense of their suffering they must learn to see the light. In another sense they must learn to embrace the darkness.

This is where we find the different imagery in the film gaining in power. The ringing of the bell is at once indicative of the darkness (as the Priest says, it is literally being melted down and made into a bullet) and indicative of hope. The rain is what hides the sun but it is also what sustains them, sustains creation and fills their well. The train reflects the heart and innocence of childhood and Franz’s memories, but also the horrors of his current reality.

Malick brilliantly weaves these interconnected realities into the fabric of the film itself. Some of the most powerful moments are the subtlest ones, be it the image of their child in Fanie’s (the wife and mother) arms laughing even as we see her turn her head in silent, sobbing tears. Or the romanticism of the letters Franz writes from prison to Fani, imagining a more hopeful situation at home even when we as viewers see her and the kids literally trudging through mud in isolated desperation.

If their suffering brings darkness, the power that the darkness gains over the course of this film becomes visceral, tangible and wrenching to watch. The proclamations of faith appear to give way to Gods growing silence in the midst of the “why” questions. But where there is darkness there is also light, and the darkness is what allows the light to shine even brighter.

Perhaps one of the most poignant and memorable scenes in the film for me is one where we encounter a tracking shot that takes us through the halls of the prison, imagining God Himself speaking as the suffering gives way to an elongated prayer being prayed over Franz. The way this is shot, elevating our gaze upwards and framed against the narrow confines of these passageways allows the confines of the prison walls to open up to the sun in this grand display of the light breaking through and igniting the darkness in literal and metaphorical ways. This visual piece affirms the films prevailing and hopeful position that even when we cant see God, we can believe that God is at work redeeming this world, restoring its brokenness, and healing the pain. 

And yet, even while this hope emerges, what becomes clear is that the darkness is the very thing being illuminated in its wake. It is not being ignored and it is not being done away with. To see the light we must peer into the darkness. And as Ephesians suggests, what is being formed out of this darkness is us, the faithful witness of God to a hurting world.

Where The Light forms Us Against the Darkness
Where the question of the darkness begins in A Hidden Life with the presence of suffering, God emerges through through the darkness as the light that is shaping these characters day by day in the mud and the muck and the mire. This sentiment grows from a statement like  “there is a difference between the kind of suffering we cant avoid and the kind we choose” towards the realization that it is “better to suffer injustice than to do it.” The further we get into the story the more we learn about what the darkness looks like when illuminated by the light. It is the same kind of progression that we see in the painter as he paints the church walls with images of Christ. “I paint their comfortable Christ,” he confesses, adding “how do I paint that which I do not know.” The paintings avoid the darkness and thus miss the witness of the light, leading him to profess, “someday I’ll paint the true Christ.” While the darkness allows the light to bear witness in us to the hope of faith and the the longing of our soul, this longing to know Christ and to be people of the light is what allows God to shine in the darkness of others.

I love how the prayer that frames that tracking shot through the prison halls, God’s prayer over Franz, expresses itself once again in the form of Fani visiting her husband now in prison as the darkness looms larger than ever. Her words are simple. “I love you and I will be with you always.” It is a prayer that echos God’s own promise to her and to them. Later on she confesses, for as much as she loves him God loves Him more, and for as hard s it is to believe He is capable of bringing His peace and comfort into any situation and in the way that she so desperately asks for and needs. This prayer broke me, because it’s the kind of prayer one can only pray over another, and one that is nearly impossible to pray alone. It reminds me of how grateful I am to know that in my darkness others are and have prayed for me.

The Illumination of the Light To Transform and Reform
This is the power of the light. As the quote from Eliot reads in a caption at the end of the film,

“The growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs.”

This quote makes A Hidden Life for me one of the most powerful witnesses of faith I have experienced on screen, precisely because of the way it strips us of that singular aversion we so often carry towards believe in God- the desire to do things on our own and in our own way and by our own means. We believe we know best, and when life doesn’t turn out the way we want we blame God, imaging the darkness and hiding the light. We give up, choosing the easier path, the path of least resistance. And we give in to the idea that God is not at work in the world and we are left to fend for ourselves.

The film begins with the honest admission that while we might be capable of dreaming of a better world for ourselves, we cannot ignore the darkness in others. The darkness is ever present in a world which was created for good, and those God desires to heal and to redeem are the reason God calls us to be the light. To ignore this truth, or to believe we can live beyond this by our own strength and means, is to live dangerously and foolishly.

Likewise, as one character says to Frani midway through the film, you have been abandoned (seemingly by her husband, God and the town), so the answer given to her is to do it (live life) on her own, in her own strength. Do what the others could not and rise above it. This approach is proven equally fallible and foolish in this story, because what the light unveils to her and within her is that she cannot do this on her own. So much of the film’s images depict her in relationship to others, relationships that have been hindered by peoples blindness and are in need of God’s love, or relationships that emerged from their willingness to enter into her world  and her struggle. And in the context of the story these relationships are what point her, Franz and us as viewers towards God as the one who is with us every step of the way, the one who has entered into our story and shared in our struggle.

The third tendency is to deal with the darkness by anointing ourselves the necessary judge and jury of what is evil and what is good. This is a stridently humanist approach to the world’s problems. But Malicks treatment of Franz guides his conscious action to do good towards a judgment of himself first rather than an interest in judging others. He sees the darkness first in himself, and thus is driven to love others in their darkness because of this. In one of the most powerful scenes in the film he is asked if he judges those who have committed great acts of injustice. His answer is no, because that would leave him equally undeserving of this grace he so desperately needs.

This idea that society can be good on it’s own, that we don’t need anything else but our own will and determination, and that we have the right to be the judge and jury of the world in all things good and evil, these things are present in every facet of society today. It is a bi-product of deciding that one (or the world) has no need for a God. The declaration of A Hidden Life is that we do stand in need, and living as if we don’t is what gives the darkness its power. For Franz, to give so completely of himself in the midst of his suffering even when he has no confidence or assurance that what he is doing will make any difference and and bring any change at all is what allows the light to illuminate the darkness. It strips his suffering of the power to defeat him precisely because it places it at the feet of the God who loves Him unconditionally. In faith he recognizes his own need for God and trusts that as God’s light in a world of darkness, God can and will be working through him to bring love, peace, comfort to a world in need. This is the most compelling witness, one based on on need, trust and willingness.

Over and against the loudness of those who believe they can and will change the world by their own efforts, this film finds hope in the many unknown voices whom might not make the headlines but make up that wonderful cloud of witnesses to the reality of God’s love and grace being poured out in the face of the darkness. We can trust that God is still working in the world to make all things new once again, that is the wonder and the hope of this witness. And in their willingness to trust even in the midst of their doubts and their weakness, in their willingness to step out in faith and live a life of conviction, God has and is using them and us to illuminate the darkness for the sake of revealing the light of hope, love, renewal and restoration. A vital message for the dark times we face as a world even today.

The best that can be said of Irish cinema today is that it certainly exists. Even with its
strata of ‘worthy’ and ‘unworthy’ films, its commercial entertainments and its dark
dramas, Irish film at least now produces enough films for there to be such divisions in the first place.
– The identity of an Irish cinema by Dr. Harvey O’Brien

Brooklyn, John Crowley’s internationally celebrated Irish film from 2015, features a recognizable and common distinctive among Irish film- the relationship between a longing for a distinctive Irish culture and presence and the reality of it’s prolonged Diaspora. The tension between these two sometimes complimentary and often opposing cultural forces still exists today even as Ireland’s modern cinematic landscape has managed to grow a stronger sense of identity, with some animosity existing between the Irish and Irish-Americans/Canadians (for example) who like to claim they are Irish. As one writer put it, as this conflict grew, more and more it became an obvious struggle between empire on one side and capitalism on the other.

FAMINE AND THE DIASPORA
Ireland’s rocky cinematic history begins in the way most nations do, with the first Lumiere images making their way to the Country in the 1890’s. What is interesting about these images is that they reflected a brief period of optimism for a people people who had lived through the tragedy of the Potato Famine. These images would soon give way to violence and more despair.

And yet, these picturesque depictions of the early emergence of the moving image would become an important symbol for Irish cinema, the product of a small island and a modest population. Given how the Potato Famine had displaced its people to foreign territory, the struggle of early Irish cinema would set the tone for years to come, forcing Irish film to depict Ireland from a distance. As these stories evolved, they came to depict the immigrants story somewhere between a love and longing for the homeland and the promise of more prosperous conditions elsewhere. And while the Country continued to struggle on a socio-political level, what is clear today is how important Irish cinema would become to protecting and developing a true Irish heritage. As the Country went so did its cinematic presence, and it becomes clear looking back, and even looking at Ireland today, that where Ireland was able to establish a localized industry and film community, Country and people were also at their strongest.

WAR, CIVIL WAR, CULTURAL IDENTITY AND FURTHER DIASPORA
With World War 1 and the fight for independence just around the corner, Irish cinema would suffer the same fate as so many Countries around the world. As the war wreaked havoc on Countries and cultures and economies, the loss of cultural and national identity became a byproduct. As the war ended, cinema would go on to play a massive role in the reconstruction of this identity, and thus the Country, around the world, including in Ireland.

What makes Ireland’s story unique from places like Italy and France is that they would find themselves once again a decimated community being thrust into yet another war, this time the civil war for Independence. With the Country already struggling to reclaim its people, something that had plagued even the optimism of James Joyce opening Ireland’s first cinema in Dublin in the early 1900’s, those films coming largely from abroad and/or attracting foreign filmmakers to film in Ireland rather than developing Irish films and Directors. Even one of Ireland’s earliest and most popular films of the early silent era, The Lad From Old Ireland made by the newly established Kalem Film Company, was an example of a film that had more connection to abroad. And time would reveal that even though the Kalem Film Company was based in Ireland it had very little to do with Ireland or growing Irish identity itself (closing up shop in 1914).

THE FILM COMPANY OF IRELAND AND THE CONTINUED FIGHT FOR IDENTITY
The Film Company of Ireland (http://filmireland.net/2017/06/14/early-irish-cinema-a-new-industry-the-film-company-of-irelands-first-season/) attempted to change the narrative that had been set by the Diaspora and Ireland’s international sprawl, opening in 1915 and developing in the early post war era before facing immense struggle in the face of the civil war. The film Knocknagow, which released in 1918, is notable for its attempt to reestablish the Irish story and an Irish mythology. One note said that film was intentional in competing against the American film Birth of a Nation, apparently even outgrossing it. And while the company would not survive the civil war (their most successful film, Willy Reilly and His Colleen Bawn, coming right before its demise), it would pave the way for important policies and movements following their Independence.

Another one of the most recognizable aspects of Irish film is its relationship to Ireland’s Protestant-Catholic past and its relationship to National politics with the ongoing division of North and South. Of note is something called the “Censorship of Films Act” (https://www.tcd.ie/irishfilm/censor/), a policy which basically came to determine the character of truly Irish film according to “Catholicism and republicicicisim.” On the flip side, this would establish the means by which film could also push back on these things on an artistic, and therefore cultural level.

This policy was established in 1923, and it would connect later to the National Film Institute (https://ifi.ie/about/history/), an institution created by the marriage of Church and State to uphold Irish Catholic vision and values in film as part of their National identity. This comes in the face of the still ongoing struggle to separate Irish Identity from the dominating pressure of foreign and international presence, such as The Film Society of Ireland, an independent film company concerned with bringing international film to Ireland. What was clear in Ireland was that while Irish filmmakers abroad and international film efforts coming to Ireland to take advantage of their landscape did exist, in order to establish a National identity and culture they needed a way to define that story and that identity according to their own voice. Theater and literature had a strong presence in Irish culture, but the reach of cinema in the modern age proved most necessary to develop now, something that kept evading them even as Countries like Italy had seen a resurgence in cinema and the strengthening of their people and Nation. So while censorship is never a great thing, the one positive that did (and does) come out of it is the ability to develop a unifying ethos. The National Film Institute strengthened the relationship between the Irish people, the Government and the Film Industry, thus giving them a tangible place on which to begin defining what it means to be Irish.

It is out of this that Ardmore film studios would emerge, which as one article put it, “was the Irish Government’s first serious attempt to encourage the development of an Irish Film Industry, a modern studio facility in Co. Wicklow suitable for both national and international production. Ardmore was intended as a signal to the world that Irish cinema had a place on the international stage…”

FROM STRUGGLE TO IDENTITY- IRISH CINEMA EMERGES
As I continue to travel the world through cinema in 2020 I am continually shocked by just how big of an impact the emergence of television had on the global film industry. It is easy to assume that television was simply the latest incarnation of a constantly evolving industry (similar to how we view streaming), but that misses the context of how television impacted these Countries. What is often missed is the many shadows that so many of these Countries had to emerge from, particularly when it comes to wars both global and internal, and how vital the film industry was to rebuilding these Countries in times of great uncertainty. The truth about television is that it has never and does not play a similar role. In fact, in so many of these Countries it is had the opposite and adverse affect. Because of the nature of how television works it tends to decentralize rather than unify, blurring lines between art and its relationship to national identity. It simply does not contain the same impact and definable cultural force that film is able to have on the development and health of a Country.

At the same time, television has consistently placed immense pressure on the film industries around the world which have been so integral to protecting and building a Countries ethos and identity, and there is ample evidence to show that as the film industry goes, so does the Country in the modern age. This is at least in (no small) part due to the fact that one of the great shifts of the modern age is away from the kind of cultural touchpoints that used to bring people together (such as live theater). Cinema plays the role it does precisely because it has the ability to bring people together around these collective stories of identity and form in the way other artforms cannot. Films can hold national identity in one hand and establish that on international soil with the other.

So it was of no surprise to me then to discover that Ireland faced a similar narrative. As John Ford would release one of Ireland’s most defining films (A Quiet Man) in 1952, the rise of television would, as one writer put it, have “a disastrous affect on Irish Identity, combining with the decline of cinema.” And yet, the inspiration of the Irish cinematic story is one that makes my own Irish-Canadian heritage jealous. As we enter the 1970’s, we see a reinvigorating and hard nosed movement to not let cinema die and to breathe into it a new commitment to using it to shed light on the Irish people and identity. And while Irish Cinema today is a shadow of what, say, American Cinema represents in content and numbers, their conviction to the artform in the face of consistent outside pressures (like streaming) actually stands taller in its relevance. With the pride of cinema comes a pride of Irish heritage and a stronger and more unified Country, something doubly important in a land still divided. The Film Act of 1970 allowed Irish Film to expand and to grow (http://www.bbc.com/travel/story/20120621-travelwise-the-evolution-of-irish-cinema), while the Irish government was one of the first and early adapters of a film tax initiative. The films that emerged from this became what is known as the Irish First Wave, demonstrating a fresh vision for art and Country.

“What all of these New Wave films have in common is their desire to challenge what had gone before them in cinematic terms. These films aggressively debunked stereotypical images of Ireland and Irish people on film and sought to challenge audiences to see Ireland in a different light.”

The future continued (and continues) to have its challenges of course, particularly in the eventual demise of The Irish Film Board in 1987 and the loss of that unifying voice. But the persistence of the Irish people resulted in films like My Left Foot (Jim Sheridan), The Crying Game (Neil Jordan), The Commitments (Alan Parker), all independent Irish products, paving the way for the rebirth of The Irish Film Board in 1993. Fast forward to today and you have an industry that, not unlike the earlier days of Italian cinema, has found a way to grow in genres, proving to leave quite a footprint in animation (Cartoon Saloon) and even in the likes of horror. But the most important undercurrent appears to be this-
“While big-budget international productions keep crews working and are enormously valuable to the country, it is the indigenous industry that is at the heart of creating opportunity and giving skills and experience to Irish producers, directors, writers and crew, telling the stories that emerge from Irish-based talent.”

As cinema goes, so does Irish identity. And like modern Ukraine, the stronger their identity the stronger Irish Cinema is becoming. It is proving that it doesn’t need to be America in order to succeed, boasting the highest rate of cinema admissions in Europe. It can, simply, be Ireland.

*For my Film Travels, here is the full list of Irish Films I have seen. It is a working and ranked list available on Letterboxd:
https://letterboxd.com/davetcourt/list/film-travels-2020-ireland/

SOURCES
Barton, Ruth, Irish National Cinema (Routledge, 2004)
McIlroy, Brian, Shooting to Kill: Filmmaking and the Troubles in Northern Ireland
(Flicks, 1998)
McLoone, Martin, Irish Film: The Emergence of a Contemporary Cinema (BFI, 2000)
http://www.bbc.com/travel/story/20120621-travelwise-the-evolution-of-irish-cinema
http://filmireland.net/2017/06/14/early-irish-cinema-a-new-industry-the-film-company-of-irelands-first-season/
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cinema_of_Ireland
https://www.volta.ie/#!/page/608/a-short-history-of-irish-cinema
https://www.ifi.ie/downloads/history.pdf
The identity of an Irish cinema by Dr. Harvey O’Brien

It’s that time again. A chance to reflect on what landed for me in February, the stories that stood out and what I am anticipating in March:

WHAT LANDED
The RHYTHM SECTION, a late January holdover, turned out to be a pleasant surprise. Suffering from a lack of advertising, poor critical reception and breaking the kind of records you don’t want to break (making the least amount of money on a weekend for a film on as many screens as it had), this one was bound to get shoved under the rug and quickly forgotten. Which is a shame. Blake Lively gives an inspired performance, it features one of the great car chase scenes in recent memory, and as thrillers go its competence actually gives way to some compelling moral questions.Worth checking out when it becomes available at home.

MOTHERLESS BROOKLYN, a film that also ended up largely forgotten and mostly missed in theaters, found its release on VOD this month. To be honest, I was mixed on the film when I saw it on the big screen, but a rewatch this month grew my appreciation for it on a number of levels. I loved the New York Noir setting, and I really appreciated how Edward Norton, in his Directorial debut, shows a real knack for being able to blend together theme, performance and structure in a very methodical and natural way. He has a real future ahead of him behind the camera.

Back on the big screen front, BIRDS OF PREY (AND THE FANTABULOUS EMANCIPATION OF ONE HARLEY QUINN) is a TON of fun. It proved that when you have someone like Margot Robbie breathing life into a problematic franchise (Suicide Squad), her powerful vision, an inspired and dominating lead performance, and a willingness to scale back the budget and get a bit more creative went a long way to making this work as well as it did.

Unfortunately the film has been labouring to find the audiences that studios expected and hoped for, so the future is a bit uncertain. But hopefully it finds a way to convince the studio that the risk was worth what we gain in quality.

Also just released to the big screen are two undeniable gems, including the winning romance THE PHOTOGRAPH, a subtle cinematic work that is chalk full of wonderful beats that move us from comedy to mystery to dramatic concern. It’s quiet and not in any way flashy, but it gradually draws you in.

And then likely the best of the February crop, THE INVISIBLE MAN shows how to reimagine a familiar concept for modern audiences, being not only the more successful horror film to land in the early goings so far, but a well crafted film that earns its scares and does some really interesting things on a technical level.

Outside of the big screen, I had the chance to catch up with a few more standout FRENCH FILMS for my “Travel The World in Film” challenge (the joyous romp that is PLAYTIME, Godards emotionally resonant  VIVRE SA VIE, the infectious entry into Demy’s trilogy THE UMBRELLAS OF CHERBOURG, the horror tinged THE NUN, and the stylish PORT OF SHADOWS).

I also managed to see the spiritually compelling THE MILL AND THE CROSS, the brilliant anti-western MCCABE AND MRS. MILLER by Robert Altman, and LOCK, STOCK, AND TWO SMOKING BARRELS, one of Guy Ritchie’s earliest efforts and probably still his best.

THE STORYLINES
February often anticipates what many perceive to be the true start to the cinematic year. That’s not to undersell this past January, which had a pretty decent showing with BAD BOYS FOR LIFE, the fairly popular DOLITTLE, the vastly underseen and underrated UNDERWATER, wide releases of 1917, WEATHERING WITH YOU and PAIN AND GLORY, the bonafide hit THE GENTLEMAN (Guy Ritchie’s latest stylish romp) and the straight to VOD LITTLE MONSTERS. But everything from big name titles to genuine hopefuls made their way onto the calendar for February hoping to kick things into full gear.

However, one of the things challenging for the attention of cinephiles this year was the earlier than usual schedule for THE OSCARS. And if you were paying any attention at all, it would be impossible to miss what likely became February’s biggest story, PARASITE’S historic win. Not only did it make history in terms of being the first foreign film to do a lot of things on the night, but the win translated into a wonderful and endless line of dialogue and articles and conversation about foreign films in general, the reward and challenge of engaging subtitles, and the nature of art on a global level.

Even more of a pleasant surprise was the storyline of the films cinematic resurgence here in NA, successfully drawing in audiences to the big screen even after releasing to VOD. Hands down, this has to be one of the most notable and impactful Oscar winners in recent memory.

On the other side of that is poor BIRDS OF PREY’s uphill battle. Not getting the attention it deserves made its underperformance the talk of a good few weeks of February. On the other side of that coin though is the unexpected success of SONIC THE HEDGEHOG. It’s problematic production, namely the uproar over Sonic’s earlier design, has caused more than a few prognosticators to ruminate on this seeming new found relationship between public opinion and its ability to impact a film’s production. They made the changes and apparently audiences are happy, coming out to show their support.

Also of note is the uphill slog that is horror 2020. GRETEL AND HANSEL does have its passionate supporters, but February has only solidified the dire state of the genres early entries. Films like FANTASY ISLAND, BRAHMS: THE BOY 2 and THE TURNING, among others, aren’t being seen and aren’t being embraced, at least until THE LODGE came out in limited release (still not available in Winnipeg) and THE INVISIBLE MAN’s  recent success turned those fates around.

One last shout out to THE CALL OF THE WILD. I consider it to be a minor miracle that this film actually debuted to a solid critical rating, and that it went on to do fairly well at the box office and with audiences. There are so many things that could have gone wrong, and it gets some of the most important things right in terms of approaching the adaptation. Say what you will about watching a CGI dog (I found Buck endearing, even in the dated style), what anchors this tough reimagining is a stubborn commitment to the novel’s philosophical core.

And in case you missed it (as I unfortunately did due to a rough February personally speaking), one of the many reasons to consider supporting our local arthouse, CINEMATHEQUE, is this past months AFRO-PRAIRIE FILM FESTIVAL. It featured a stellar lineup and is one the only places to catch some smaller releases (such as Les Miserables and Clemency). The festival is over, but look for smaller films and festivals to screen here all year round. It always promises to be a very involved and enthusiastic crowd of fellow cinephiles.

WHAT I”M LOOKING FORWARD TO IN MARCH
First off, if you didn’t get a chance to see THE INVISIBLE MAN yet, it’s still in it’s first week. So early March leaves plenty of room to squeeze that in. There is also the much buzzed about PORTRAIT OF A LADY ON FIRE, which is playing at Grant Park Cinemas here in Winnipeg through the end of this week as well.

In terms of March releases though, the month kicks off with a bang, featuring a new installment from Pixar called ONWARD. We knew very little about this film seeing as it was a largely unknown original currently being overshadowed by Pixar’s second more anticipated original to release later this year (SOUL). Early word appears to suggest that tempered expectations will work in its favor.

Also watch out for possible expansions of the well received EMMA, and the limited release of the buzzy FIRST COW, which is unlikely to show up in Winnipeg in the early running but is one to keep an eye out for.

Following on the heels of Onward is Affleck’s widely advertised THE WAY BACK, which looks to be a solid entry into the inspiring sports drama category, and the newest Comic Book installment called BLOODSHOT, headed by the popular Vin Diesel. The much postponed but still fairly hyped (somehow) MY SPY will also finally be seeing wide release.

On delayed releases, watch out for the controversial THE HUNT, a film that has had a long, rocky road to the screen. Curiosity has me interested in THE HUNT, but I won’t lie, I’ve been waiting patiently for THE WAY BACK, which feels like it will hit Affleck’s sweet spot, and MY SPY, which looks like a fun time out at the theaters.

Perhaps the biggest splashes of March releases might be A QUIET PLACE 2 and the live action remake of MULAN. They have been doing a bang up job at advertising both of these films, and whatever questions I might have had in terms of how they make this sequel and this remake feel necessary have been put at ease.

Here is to another great month. Happy viewing y’all. And as always, my reviews of the above films are available here at Letterboxd for anyone interested:
https://letterboxd.com/davetcourt/

After 4 full seasons of contemplating the afterlife using a good blend of humor, emotion and chemistry, the much beloved series The Good Place came to a close this past week. Known for its ability to take deep philosophical and theological ideas and break them down into bite size questions and relevant conversation that anyone can understand and relate to regardless of religious affiliation, the show was consistently striving to present the idea of the afterlife as a mystery to explore rather than a fact to exploit.

One of the more brilliant aspects of the way the show was scripted over these 4 seasons was how it used its depiction of the afterlife to position the “good” place and the “bad” place as a working commentary both on the lives we live in the present and the nature of the afterlife itself. By placing these two ideas as a moral construct, the show then weaved through different aspects of the  moral equation, particularly in how it plays into moral responsibility, judgement and motivation. By applying what C.S. Lewis refers to as the “Christian imagination” towards a more generalized spiritual concern for matters of life and death, it encouraged viewers to ofen wrestle with matters of faith in ways that could get us thinking about our relationship to faith in one way or another.

The way the show was able to keep this conversation alive through all 4 seasons is by seeing it through the lens of the great mystery. To speak of the afterlife was to speak of shared “human” concerns.

(SPOILER WARNING FOR THE FINAL EPISODES OF THE GOOD PLACE)
THE GREAT MYSTERY UNDONE
That is until the series decided it was going to bring the conversation to a close. This set up the daunting and challenging task of taking the wealth of its ideas and weaving it into a single and final episode as something that both honors the journey while bringing the character arcs to a fitting close.

And I do think there were ways the series could have achieved this. But it would have required them to stay true to this idea of the afterlife as a mystery to explore. Unfortunately,  the show chose to abandon the mystery in favor of easy answers and a proper solution, the end result being a frustrating and often contradictory mess of ideas.

Just to explain this further, let me unpack exactly what I mean by walking through the final two episode arc:

THE GOOD PLACE: SEASON 4, EPISODES 13-14 (WHENEVER YOUR READY)
The second last episode takes all the mystery out of the series and exchanges it for a decidedly and determined nihilistic premise. In this final picture of the afterlife, after so much time playing around with the idea of selflessness, eternity becomes little more than an idealized version of our best life built here on earth, built around the pursuit of happiness, materialism and personal pleasure. When they come to realize that happiness based on these self predicated ideals gets tired, and that once you have accomplished all that you want to do, they come to the conclusion that what affords someone personal happiness and fulfillment is actually death itself. It is knowing that something won’t last forever that gives it meaning. Thus, whenever your ready indicates the choice to die. This is the prefered afterlife that all of us truly want deep inside.

Enter the invention of a door where, after living their best life and accomplishing all that their heart desires, the people in the good place can walk through and, we are told, cease to exist. The final message of the series at this point? It could go two ways. One is that eternal life as an idea is simply an idealized version of life on earth. The second message, which is more metaphorical, is that everything we have experienced in the afterlife is intended to say something about this life on earth being all there is, so make the most of it before you time is up.

Which is really where most of the problems begins to surface. This premise only works in a world where everyone is free to write the story of their life the way we feel it should be written. By doing away with the mystery, the show essentially creates a smoothed out and glorified depiction of death that ignores the question of suffering. Its “spiritual” imagination is basically the sum total of our earthly desires, with our experience of life on earth determining our happiness.

It romanticizes death without acknowledging what death actually means for our lives. It offers a false picture of happiness in order to elevate death as meaningful. And what makes this perhaps most dangerous of all is that it provides a meaningful argument for suicide that completely ignores its tragic nature. Yes, they are already dead, but by confusing the show’s final two points, this afterlife is presented as a metaphor for life on earth, so it becomes easy to see how the show wants us to translate these truths to the choices we make now. 

Further yet, it has a serious problem to contend with in terms of explaining the immortality of the good place architects against the now mortal souls of the earthly residents. Why is it that the place responsible for life on earth is an image of immortality, while the creation itself is seemingly more enlightened? This is of course where the film begins to lean into the Eastern mysticism and philosophy, leaning towards the idea that we all become gods who then desire mortality. But the confusing mashup of ideas turns the entirely of the show into a contradictory collection of statements, a burden the second last episode places entirely on the shoulders of the final hour.

And ultimately the last hour takes the easy way out of the hole it dug for itself, ignoring the problems and going for melodramatic.

We see it backtrack on its idea of the door as necessarily nihilistic. Remember when we said the door means you cease to exist? Well, we are going to slip in a line near the end of the episode that tells us that we don’t know what happens after you walk through that door.

For all the lessons that the characters have learned about selfless love, the choice to walk through the door has nothing to do with what happens next and everything to do with what makes them ready to end their lives, all of which are a series of self serving ambitions.

And then we factor in Michaells decision to become mortal. Is that an answer to the architect/human problem? Seemingly. Maybe. But it basically turns the divine in the show into a self serving entity dependent on humanity to give it value. To experience life is the ideal, and to live and die is what gives him true dignity and purpose. Only, it turns the entire notion of the afterlife into a wishlist, a simple buffer to help erase the pain and uncertainty and struggle of life on earth so that we can die with dignity.

And then guess what. In case we had any question of a concrete world view for the show, at the last second it then decides to come back to Hindu and Buddhist philosophy as a way of coloring over the problems it chooses to ignore, but it does so in an equally disingenuous fashion. It picks and chooses in order to find the easy way out of the problems it wants to ignore, essentially ignoring the spirituality and leaning into its secularist, Westernized expression. On the surface it feels nice and emotional and complete, but once you take off the cover all the problems start to spill over, leaving me feeling very unsettled, frustrated and let down.

As someone who has long struggled with anxiety and depression, including suicidal thoughts, these final episodes left me in a pretty dark place. In his wonderful article on the finale, SPENCER KORNHABER writes, “Characters became so sated by the world’s meaningfulness, and so jaded by the seemingly infinite possibilities of creation, that they had no reason to go on. Perhaps this was a logical conclusion. It is hard for any viewer to evaluate it, much less viscerally relate, as none of them has lived an eternity—much less the specific version of eternity this show constructed.

What many people have lived are days in which the case for existence beating nonexistence seems unconvincing.”

In his article he puts into words why I felt so disillusioned with the final two episodes. This is at least in part because I was so invested in the show over these past years, a testament to its strength and vision. I had come to trust in where this narrative was going, that it would give me the freedom to enter into the mystery of life and death with freedom and grace. What I got is a show that ultimately confirmed my deepest struggles. The fact that my life looks nothing like The Good Place means that suicide and nihilism are my best option. It makes me feel lied to, not only by the show but by life.

And yet, the mystery still remains. That to me is the more powerful realization. I am reminded that there is reason to enter into the conversation and to see past myself. I’m reminded that even though this world pushes back, there is something greater to live for than my own personal happiness. That is what gives me hope. I don’t fear eternal life, nor is the answer to all my problems. What the Good Place is to me is an invitation to engage the Christian imagination and wonder about how my life here on earth points me to a life with God in ways I can only understand in part but trust that one day I will understand in whole.

I would encourage you to read through the article that Spencer wrote for the Atlantic. He articulates it so much better than I could. I would also encourage anyone who struggles with suicide or depression or anxiety to know that there is life beyond this show. Ending ones life is not the answer to our struggles with this world, it is simply the only thing we can see sometimes when everything doesn’t make a whole of sense, feels overwhelming, less than ideal and too much. If you feel that way, embrace the conversation. Seek out others. That’s the part of the show that is most important.

Here’s the link to the article:
https://www.theatlantic.com/culture/archive/2020/02/good-places-finale-made-heaven-look-hopeless/606001/

The month of January is notorious in the world of cinema for two things- being a dumping ground for forgettable films and filling empty screens with rereleases of Oscar hopefuls.

Of course there are always exceptions to this rule (see Paddington 2 and Patriots Day), but by and large this tends to hold true.

On the Oscar front, this past month featured a wealth of nominees that are either set to remain in theaters until at least this Friday or are currently available on VOD and streaming.

The ones in theater that are worth your time: Little Women, Jo Jo Rabbit, Frozen 2, 1917, Parasite and A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood (my number one film of 2019). 1917 should certainly be at the top of your priority list if you are considering the big screen expeience, and both Parasite and Beautiful Day are pretty incredible films to expeience with a crowd.

On VOD you can also catch up with the much talked about Joker and the perfectly crafted Once Upon A Time in Hollywood, two of my personal favorites of 2019, as well as the wonderful end to the trilogy and quadrilogy of How To Train Your Dragon 3 and Toy Story 4.

Also readily available is The Irishman, The Two Popes, I Lost My Body, and Marriage Story, all exclusive to Netflix.

If you are interested in my thoughts on the Oscars, including predictions and hopefuls, I plan to do an Oscar write up before the ceremony this Sunday Night. So watch for that upcoming.

If you are looking for fresh 2020 titles to help bring in the new decade, you are in luck. While it might look a bit scarce and forgettable at first, reflecting back on the month gone by proved that this Janaury was stronger than first appearances allow.

Here are the January films that I think are worth your time:

1. Underwater (3.5)– Really happy to see that this surprisingly fun horror sci-fi action film is still holding on to a couple screens. Starring the often misunderstood and undersold Kristen Stewart, the film evokes serious Alien vibes as it manages it’s way through some superb set pieces with a subtle interest in themes of female empowerment.

2. Bad Boys For Life (3.5)– This is not a perfect film, but it is a perfectly constructed reboot that proved a perfect tonic for the cold January days. Making headlines for breaking records, fans are clearly responding to this one in big numbers. And for good reason. After a plethora of reboots and remakes in 2019 that failed to be seen and/or crashed and burned, all signs pointed to this being yet another failed attempt to breathe life into nostalgia. But replacing Director Micheal Bay with Directors Adil El Arbi and Bilall Fallah, two relative unknowns, pegged next to tackle Beverly Hills Cop 4 in 2021, proved a perfect recipe for success. Bad Boys For Life feels fresh and familiar in all the right ways, dialing down the over the top action set pieces and trading that in for a strong emotional core and some enriched character study. Working in a few twists and surprises, this is a franchise that feels perfectly positioned for the future.

3. Dolittle (3)– I don’t think anyone will be talking about this one come the end of the year, but children’s stories like this tend to be a rarity these days, and ratings seem to suggest that this is something general audiences are appreciating and responding to. It has done decently well, even if it has a long road to travel in making up its sizable budget. For me its blend of quirky interactions, sentimentality, an inspired performance by Downy, adventure, and a solid message about our relationship to the created world was enough to transport me into its story and put a smile on my face.

4. The Gentlemen (3.5)– Directed by Guy Ritchie, it should not be undersold that this is an original project. With its blend of humor, edgy characters and scripted fun, this is one that has some very real and very rewatchable appeal.

5. Rythym Section (3.5)– A solid thriller with a really good lead performance and strong supporting cast. Don’t let the headlines of this film’s record breaking box office slump deter you. This is one that is unfortunately getting lost in the shuffle and is far better than those appearances might lead you to believe.

6. Danger Close (3), an Australian film with a unique flavor, and Little Monsters (3.5), a quirky and crazy children’s film that is most definitely NOT a children’s film are two solid VOD releases worth checking out. Both are currently available on Hoopla.

And because they saw wide release in January. I’m considering both of these 2020 films:
7. Weathering With You– The follow up to the beautiful Your Name, this anime film from Japan will be a solid candidate for animated film of the year come December. With its striking visual presence and solid story, it is worth taking the time to check out on the big screen while you can.

8. Just Mercy (4)- An emotional crowd pleaser with an important message, this popular drama is still playing on a couple screens. It is proving to really resonate with general audiences, and is benefiting from a strong advertising campaign. If you haven’t had a chance to check it out, keep it on your radar. It should be making its way to VOD fairly soon.

I haven’t yet seen The Last Full Measure, a war film that has connected strongly with fans of the genre, but trusted voices have all suggested this is a late January release punching above its paygrade, even as three supposedly less than stellar horror releases (The Grudge, The Turning, Gretal and Hansel), 3 films I haven’t found time to see, are quickly fading from the collective memory.

Comparitively speaking, this has proved a diverse line up with some decent and good options to help ramp us up for February’s decidedly more high profile presence…

LOOKING AHEAD

Some upcoming films to keep an eye on:

1. 3 high profile Horror films are set to take North American cinema by storm- The Lodge, which has already garnered rave reviews, the much anticipated The Invisible Man (featuring the always incredible Elizabeth Moss), and the intriguing but still unknown Fantasy Island. My money is on The Lodge, but watch out for the other two to make a splash.

2. The long awaited release of Portrait of a Lady on Fire is almost upon us. This international film made quite an impression during festival season last year, and its delayed release has been frustrating more than a few of us cinephiles. Now we will finally get to see what all the fuss is about.

3. A few big profile releases, kicking off with Birds of Prey, a spin off of Suicide Squad which promises to leave the worst parts of that film behind and bring Margot Robbie (it’s best part), both as lead and as Director, to the forefront.

I’m kind of still intrigued about Sonic the Hedghog, and Bloodshot looks like the real deal, but the one I am most excited about is the coming adaptation of The Call of the Wild. I loved the novel, am a sucker for these types of wilderness films with animal characters at their center, and love Harrison Ford.

But just in case you are second guessing Birds of Prey, everything that I have heard so far suggests it’s a super fun romp with an unexpected edge.

4. Two small time projects with big time appeal- The Photograph is on my most anticipated list, a quiet love story that explores themes of love and commitment. But the one I am REALLY looking forward to is a film called Wendy. From the Director of the amazing Beasts of the Southern Wild, this is a take on the Peter Pan story that blends a child like perspective and imagination with real world struggle. It looks incredible and promising, and I can’t wait to get swept up into its fantastical vision.

Honorable Mention: Downhill

If you haven’t yet seen the amazing Swedish film Force Majeure, do yourself a favor and check it out. I’m having a hard time reconciling the two leads in this American remake with the nature of the source material, but I am still somewhat intrigued by the way the new one appears to differ in tone and style.

Happy viewing 🙂

In my review of Roberto Rossellini’s wonderful love letter to Italian culture and countryside, 1954’s Journey to Italy, I reflect on what this film’s highly romanticized depiction of an Italian way of life meant to me. Having had the opportunity to travel to Italy and experience the culture first hand I know the power it holds. Despite its history and challenges and problems (of which there are many of course), these romanticized ideals are more than the simple fascination and curiosity of an outsider. Italy has a way of uncovering, in a very short amount of time, not only the unspoken dissatisfaction and struggle (with the world, your life, yourself, and perhaps others) that is lingering within our souls, but also our passion and our desire to discover life in the fullest. If you live further West (as I do), it becomes clear that their way of life is so distinctly counterintuitive to our own that visiting the Country operates like a wake up call to how unaware of life’s cherished moments we can sometimes be in our addiction to business and productiveness. To embrace Italy is to embrace a way of life that makes time for doing nothing. That values a simple cup of coffee, lingering over meals, in person discourse and community over privatization, public spaces, appreciating ones surrounding be it architecture, natural beauty or artistic creativity.

I know for both my wife and I, we came back transformed but also disillusioned with how antithetical our life here was to these basic values. And in many ways this is precisely the same tension that we see seeping into the external relationship struggles that lies at the center of the story in Journey to Italy. These are two people who have become unknowingly disillusioned with their way of life, and their journey to Italy helps to expose them to a different way of life, one that challenges their own preconceptions about what is most important and opens them up to appreciating what matters most.

Since visiting Italy, I actually became deeply interested in learning and uncovering what it is that makes Italian culture so enrapturing and compelling. Over the years, my own research seemed to come down to these three things:
1. A unique and diverse National Identity
2. It’s focus on family and community
3. It’s focus on the arts

Given how integral the arts is to their culture, when I committed to travelling the world through film in 2020 it didn’t take long for me to land in Italy as my starting point. And the more I delved into its cinematic history over this past month, the more heightened these three ideas seemed to become as interconnected realities.

THE BIRTH OF CINEMA IN ITALY
It would be true to say that Italy was a relative latecomer to the growing popularity and growth of cinema in Europe. It is also true that Italy would go on to be one of the most influential forces in cinema in its pre war and post war development. What was interesting to discover is how both of these truths are a direct of product of Italy’s foreign influences, and that it was its dependence on these foreign powers that inhibited its ability to develop a true cinematic presence early on, and its development of a cinematic identity that later helped give rise its unique, nationalistic identity.

Like the rest of Europe, the history of film in Italy follows a similar path. The futurist movement, a modernist push that originated in Italy and pushed the world outwards towards a fresh, collective embrace of progress and technology, opened the door for cinema to thrive in some respects, and later, as a possible product or marriage of fascist leaning ideologies, inhibited it through the existence of oppressive regimes.

Leading up to the rise of Futurism, and heavily defined by French, Swiss and German influence, Italy’s early films- Eiloteo Alberini’s La Presa di Roma (The Capture of Rome) in 1905 is the first Italian fiction film, while L’inferno (in 1911) is considered the first full length Italian feature, reflected an initial insurge in collaborative efforts, followed closely by a brief period before the First World War in which we start to see the foundations for what would eventually emerge as a National, Italian cinematic identity.

Like the rest of Europe, Fascists restrictions on culture in the 1920’s/30’s limited the making of film, and it wouldn’t be until the 1940’s that we see the rise of the Neorealist movement, an artistic approach that would go on to become one of the most influential movements in film history, revitalizing the industry both in Italy and internationally (with Directors like Vittorio De Sica, Roberto Rossellini and Luchino Visconti emerging as distinct, Italian voices).

ITALIAN NEOREALISM
Much of what I read suggested that the biggest reason Neorealism was able to emerge was because of Italy’s early surrender in World War 2. One of the first Neorealist films, or at least the one most recognized internationally (Roberto Rossellini’s Rome, Open City, the same Director who built the first cinema in Rome) was actually filmed on location two months after Italy’s surrender. The reason for this connects back to this idea of foreign powers and influences. It afforded them time to adjust and reflect on Italian culture and experience while protecting what the war had stolen from them. They were able to take its influences (French, German and Soviet roots geared towards poetry and expressionism) and begin to use them in this space to rediscover their own voice.

At the same time, Neorealism became the first movement to reject the overwhelming presence of American Hollywood conventions, carving its own path against the pressure of a globalized front. As I heard one writer describe it, “Neo indicates the defying of traditional conventions, elaborating on the moral and social components of traditional realism, and of verismo, by nature extending and reformulating its borders. It’s this conversation between old and new is what allows realism to constantly be taking on new forms.”

What defines Neorealism as a movement and gives it a distinct Italian presence is that it found a way to give cinema back to the people. Emerging in a time and space largely undefined, both innately aware of the tragic and devastating reality of the war on one side, and an uncertain but hopeful future on the other, filmmakers emerged from the rubble with a desire to cast non-actors, to tell stories in sometimes unscripted ways, and to shoot on location. The themes that emerge through these films are honest and raw, dealing with matters of real social concern while elevating the strength of the Italian culture and countryside as an almost eternal force at the same time.

As one article I read suggested, Neorealists were immune to the critique that invaded the Hollywood form on an international level. This enabled them to persist the way they did because they could not be “popularized” or shoehorned in the same way according to adherence to specific styles and genres, with this writer making a specific connection between popularization and the politicization of films. These were films with a message, but they were the voice of the artists and the people whom the stories were bringing to light rather than the politics themselves. This is what gave Neorealism (and its inspired offshoots such as The French New Wave) a distinct and intimate documentary style as well.

From its very first expression (Ossessione in 1942), many of the films of this period are considered to be some of the best films ever made, defining not only a genre but a Country. What became known as the Marshall Plan (again, a mirror of a kind of globalization, albeit a very corrupted one) would lead to its dissolution, but because of the way cinema invested in an authentic Italian identity and pride the Country was able to maintain its position as a prominent cinematic presence, moving into new frontiers, and exploring new genres (it’s last recognizable one comes from the 70’s, a deviation into the horror genre with German influences called Giallo, and the infamous Italian Spaghetti Western is notable as well).

THE POWER OF ITALIAN CINEMA
As another article suggested in reflecting on one Italy’s most prominent Directors, “For De Sica, there is an answer to everything, except death. When the worst thing has happened, life nonetheless goes on.”

This to me is the sentiment embodied most readily in the Italian films I have had the privilege of seeing. I think back to the way Journey to Italy was able to capture the devastation of a broken relationship and set this amidst the glorious allure of the Italian way of life in a transformative fashion. There are the early indications of a culture interested in the creativity and craft on display in the impressive feat of Dante’s Inferno. The subtle beauty of Di Sica’s family drama mixed with such a stark social commentary in Bicycle Thieves. The stunning neo-realist sensibilities on display in Rome, Open City, a film brave enough to critique the social reality while imaging a glimpse of social reform.

The touching emotion of Umberto D that reaches across generational divides and discussions of the old and the new. The captivating intimacy of Olmi’s The Tree of Wooden Clogs which elevates themes of faith and family in a truly expressive fashion. The intimacy of Italy’s mobster genre that gave rise to its particular focus on faith and family, social and political relevance and violence. From the mesmerizing war fable of Life is Beautiful, to the stunning humanist and existential explorations of people lost in the volatility of life in La Dolce Vita and L’Aventura.

Perhaps the most special viewing experience for me, and one that I had before embarking on this journey, was the transcendent Cinema Paradiso. This was a film that helped give definition and longevity to Italian cinema after Neorealism had faded away. It is a film meant to remind a Country and a people of why film (and art in general) is so integral to who they are. It’s a reminder of how intricately tied they are to their past, but of how cinema opens up the possibilities of the future. It’s a love letter to the art form, but even more so its a declaration of the values that cinema can uphold- magic, imagination, community, shared experience, emotion, social awareness. It is a film that allowed me to fall in love with the movies all over again, and through this exercise to really understand how valuable film has been throughout Italian history.

THE FUTURE OF ITALIAN CINEMA
For as much as things in this world change, much stays the same. The challenges of globalization can be felt worldwide, and while modern movements such as streaming services have opened up inevitable access to different cultures and places and experiences, one of the realities of our modern age still reflects the familiar existence of these external forces that inhibit these places from being able to form and build a national identity. As the story of Italy shows, there is a fine line that exists between international influence and art that is being shaped by the people according to a particular experience. In a world defined by the most powerful, the most money and the most content, we often forget about about how important film in general is to shaping the Countries that make them (something that is emerging as a constant theme as I move into places like Ukraine down the road as well). International access is not the same as local investment, and when services like Netflix, positioned as rich and dominant outside forces, are the ones controlling output and funding sources that are struggling in many places worldwide, it can turn this idea of globalization into dependence on a singular entity rather than feeding back into the Country itself, which really is a mirror of what we saw emerging from the hollows of Futurism and the end of the Second World War.

This is why Italy remains so inspiring to me on the subject of culture and film. They are not as prestigious as they once were, but they are still just as authentic, unique and demonstrable as a Country interested in making diverse film for the people and by the people. Alongside this, in the onset of smartphones and streaming services and the loss of many community based endeavors, to visit Italy now is to reclaim those vital human points that connect us to story to begin with. It is a reminder that the only thing final is death, and that living is an artform all its own, and this marriage of a way of life and artistic vision is one that has stood the test of time and makes Italian cinema so endearing.
A final word dealing with De Sica, an “expert on the subject of being disregarded… who informed the actors of his films about how to capture the spirit and voice of the people.”
“He liked human beings most when they are unguarded, naive and possessed by a simple faith in life. He wanted to manifest a kind of trust before things, one that often fails, but at least is there to fail. It’s in the shoeshine boys’ love for the horse they save up to buy, in Umberto D’s feeling for a lonely pregnant girl and for his pet dog; it’s the compassionate openness that allows us to love others.”

HERE IS A LINK TO THE LIST OF FILMS I WATCHED ON MY TRAVELS THROUGH ITALY:
https://letterboxd.com/davetcourt/list/film-travels-2020-italy/edit/

This morning at Church our reflection was on Matthew Chapter 8:1-17. This is what the chapter division looks like (NRSV):
Matthew 8:1-4- Jesus Cleanses a leper
Matthew 8:5-13- Jesus Heals a Centurion’s Servant
Matthew 8:14-17- Jesus Heals Many at Peter’s House

Our pastor went on to reflect on how understanding the structure of this passage can help us think more deeply about the nature of our desire and Jesus’ desire for us.

Each section centers around a need and a subsequent healing:
– In the first section we see a leper approach Jesus desiring personal healing.
– In the second second section we see someone approach Jesus desiring someone else’s healing.
– In the third section we see Jesus approaching others with the promise of healing. 

The first thing we can pull from this structure then is this: We all desire something, and clearest evidence that we do comes in our times of need.

But what is most revealing is what this structure tells us about these desires:
SECTION 1: The first section is the easiest entry point into this discussion because it pictures us bringing our need (desire) to Jesus. I feel like most of us can understand this.

SECTION 2: It is slightly less easy to entertain the second section because it forces us to consider the idea of intercession (people going to Jesus on our behalf). This is something I think most of us can understand but have a hard time accepting, investing in, or we take it for granted.

SECTION 3: The third section is by far the most difficult to reconcile because it requires us to believe and trust in this idea that Jesus is pursuing us for the purpose of meeting our desire. And what taking this passage as a whole can show us is that the reason this is difficult is often because of the way we approach Jesus in section one. 

There are three things we can learn from the first section of Chapter 8 that can help us reconcile this idea that Jesus pursues us:
1. “Lord, if you choose..” (8:2) To have desires and expectations that these desire will be met is human. What we find in jesus is the truth that healing is His to give. It is not transactional. To approach Jesus is not a matter of coming with the right words and the right ideas and in the right way. It’s simply to encounter Jesus and trust that healing is His to give.

2. “… make me clean” (8:2) The beauty of this word clean is in the way we can contextualize it into the experience of the leper. This is more than a request for healing, it is a request for transformation. What ails this man also comes with social oppression and isolation, a thoroughline that we find in each of these sections. They are all socially oppressed in some fashion, or as my Pastor suggested, outsiders looking in.

There is a sense in which this word evokes a plea of desperation, an overarching request that he is unable to even articulate in its fullness. All he knows is that he needs Jesus, and recognizing this need in the way that our simple morning confessional states (Lord, something is wrong in me, and around me) can help us understand what our true desire is. Too often we neglect this part, staying on the surface of our daily needs and wants until life forces our hand.

3. “I do choose. Be made clean!” (8:3) Jesus pursues us. The reason our desires matter is because Jesus has desires for us. He desires for us to be made clean, to be healed in the context of our own lives.

RECONCILING JESUS WITH OUR DESIRE
If Jesus has desires for us, and we have desires we hope will be met in our daily lives, it is the question of how these desires match up that makes the third section so difficult to entertain. When they don’t appear to match up we get frustrated. We assume that Jesus is not pursuing us, otherwise why is our life the way it is.

But here is how this truth that desire is Jesus’ alone to give as He chooses can help us see our own desire in a new light. What Jesus desires for us to see the true desire of our heart.  The work of approaching Jesus with the desires that we have is learning to trust that He will help us to know the true desires that they point us towards. This is where the true healing happens, and this is why we all need Jesus.

The work of praying for healing in the lives of others then is to reveal the healing that needs to take place. And the work of Jesus in pursuing us to this end is His desire that we would find the healing that we need, whichwe often do not yet realize.

It’s a powerful realization to know that we can come to Jesus with whatever desires we have, and that we can trust in Jesus to reveal the hidden desires of our heart that motivate them. This is where true transformation can happen.

Perhaps an even more powerful thought is that we can know we are  not in this alone in this process. We have people praying on our behalf and helping us along the way. And we have Jesus, whom scripture tells us is busy taking our desires to the Father and praying on our behalf. And while we might struggle with the idea of others praying for us, and doubt that Jesus cares enough to go out of his way for us when our desires don’t quite match up with the healing He wants to give, the truth is that Jesus is always pursuing us, always with us and always hoping for us to find life in its fullness. This is our great and transformative hope. This is what it means to be redeemed, to discover all of the things we don’t yet have words for, just like the leper in the first section of this passage speaks to the wholeness of his own desperation.

QUESTIONS TO PONDER
Which brings me to our homework this week (yes, we get homework at Church :)). This week we are supposed to reflect on these two questions (which I’ve actually formulated into three questions):
1. What do you actually believe Jesus desires for you?
2. What is it that you desire? 

And in submitting these two questions to our own spiritual reflection, a follow up one:
3. What is it that you actually desire (the deeper desire being revealed to us through the work of the spirit).