Shooter

Antoine Fuqua (Training Day, Tears of the Sun, King Arthur) is good at making action films, and Shooter is a pretty darn good one. It's your standard revenge flick, which hollywood loves to make. Mark Wahlberg plays Bob Lee Swagger, a sharp-shooter who gets framed for attempting to assassinate the president. Swagger is on the run most of the film, trying to prove his innocence and get revenge on those who are setting him up. He gets help from an FBI agent (Michael Pena) who is searching for the truth, and sees that all the pieces don't fit. Danny Glover (who kind of sucks at this role) is the evil government conspirator, working alongside a sitting US senator. There are lots of cool guns, big explosions, and rugged manliness.

The tagline for the film states: "Yesterday was about honor. Today is about justice." Swagger has been framed, and evil has been committed against him. Justice would be served if those responsible were put in jail, or even killed. So Swagger wants revenge, and we want it too. Hollywood keeps making revenge flicks because we eat them up. I would list a few, but there are just too many to name. It's one of the film industry's favorite themes. Why do we like them so much? We want to know that we can take revenge against our enemies too. Our pride tells us that we won't take any crap from anyone, and that we are justified in wanting to fight back. And yes, we should desire justice. But Scripture tells us that vengeance is God's to deal out, not ours. We must leave it in His capable hands, which is very difficult. Jesus taught us to turn the other cheeck, not fight back. As Christians, we are called to give up the right to revenge, and instead we are to forgive seventy x seven times. Forgiveness is the answer, not revenge. One character tells Swagger something like "This isn't the wild west son, you can't just shoot all the bag guys. Although sometimes that is what's needed." But Swagger does think it is the wild west, and the film does too. Shooter demonizes the bad guys so that we will be happy when they are blown away. We tend to do that a lot, so we don't think about that fact that "all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God." We all deserve punishment, not just our enemies. Yet the grace and forgiveness of Christ is powerful, so powerful it can cover even the "bad guys." Forgiveness is hard, much harder than exacting revenge. Revenge is not a Biblical ideal; grace and forgiveness are.

Wahlberg is quickly becoming the "man's man" in Hollywood these days. He rocks in Shooter, which that all-American rugged individualism. And Shooter is an exciting, enjoyable ride. But let's not let ourselves buy in to the lie that we should exact revenge on our enemies. Let's lay down our rights, as Jesus did, and forgive. Let us forgive even if those who receive it don't deserve it, don't want it, and reject it. Let us forgive because He has forgiven us.

Reign Over Me

Mike Binder's Reign Over Me is about grief, friendship, and responsibility. Denver's own Don Cheadle stars as Alan Johnson, a dentist in Manhattan facing a sort of mid-life crisis. He is out one day and sees his old college roommate, Charlie Fineman (Adam Sandler). Fineman's wife and three daughters were killed on 9/11, and he is now suffering from a sever case of post-traumatic stress disorder. At first Charlie doesn't recognize Alan, but after a while it starts to sink in. What transpires is a reconnecting of sorts.
Charlie has become completely disconnected from reality. He distracts himself all the time, with video games (Shadow of the Colossus - a metaphor for his life), movies (only comedies), and collecting records. He does not want to remember his family, because it hurts. When others try to bring it up he runs, or acts out in rage. He is all alone, by his own design. When Alan comes into his life, Charlie welcomes him because Alan never met his family. Charlie has become closed off from everyone else. In his life we can see the dangerous effects of not mourning, not seeking help but continually pushing everything down and everyone away. Charlie was not meant to be alone, no one is. But he wants to be alone so that he doesn't have to feel the pain of loss. Some people in the film say "just let him be." Yet we must heal, it has been five years, and at some point something must be done. Charlie is mentally unhealthy. But on the flipside, grief is so different for everyone, so personal.
But Reign Over Me is not so much about Charlie as it is about Alan. Alan is married with kids, and lives a "normal" life. But Alan has a boring life, a boring job, and a lack of excitement. When a female patient offers him a certain kind of sexual excitement, he realizes more than ever that he just doesn't like his life all that much right now. Once he reconnects with Charlie (who has basically reverted to acting like a teenager) Alan becomes jealous of Charlie's freedom. Alan wants to be able to stay out all night and skirt his responsibilities. He wants to be a kid again. Alan's wife (Jada Pinkett Smith) points this out to him, and accuses Alan of only helping Charlie for his own reasons (freedom, etc.). How often do we help others, but do so with our own agenda instead of with a servant's heart? Yet a change (redemption) happens in Alan's life. He realizes that he was becoming like Charlie, not letting others, especially his wife, into his world. His shutting others out does not look as extreme as Charlie's, but that could be ever more dangerous because it could be so gradual that no one would notice. So does Alan get to the point, eventually, where he will lay down his life for his friend, with the right motives? At the same time, Alan needs to attend to his familial responsibilities. Can he find the right balance?
Music plays a big role as well. The film gets its title from The Who's "Love Reign O'er Me" (the song is featured in the film, including a blistering performance of the song by Pearl Jam during the end credits). Charlie says of Quadrophenia, the album that contains the song, "That album changed my life." Reign Over Me seems to say that love is the answer. We need each other, and we need to love each other.
The film offers some resolution, yet also leaves much to the imagination. It's about trust, about healing, about friendship, and about authentic human interaction. Reign Over Me is a painful, awkward, and fascinating ride.

Casino Royale

Women want him and men want to be him. What is it about Bond?
I must say that I have hated most of the Bond movies I have seen. Die Another Day was possibly the cheesiest thing every committed to celluloid. Yet this one got rave reviews, so I gave it a shot. Casino Royale is the beginning of Bond's career. He goes to exotic locales, finds beautiful women, and fights the bad guys. The life of a spy is exciting, and we want excitement in our lives. The fate of the world rests on the shoulders of a spy, and we want our lives to be that important. So we live vicariously through 007. Daniel Craig (Road To Perdition, Layer Cake, Munich) does a fantabulous job playing the world's famous spy. He exudes confidence, charisma, and charm. The action was suberb, and quite exciting (this coming from someone who usually gets bored during a long chase sequence). Casino Royale looks and sounds pristine; it is everything a good action flick should be.
But then that old brain kicks in, and asks questions, like "is it okay that Bond kills dozens of men in cold blood, without a second thought?" and "why is this guy a hero?" Today I came across an article in the Toronto Star by Geoff Pevere, entitled "Testing the soul's ability to bear murder." Pevere states "the man required to kill on society's behalf ... may be every bit as dangerous as any threats he kills in civilisation's name. He's become a cancer within." The article focuses on the question "What toll does murder take on the murderer?" Casino Royale addresses this thought, if only slightly. Bond is a cold-blooded killer, he cannot care about anyone or anything (except the "Crown," I guess). He has no attachments, no relationships, no heart. He must become a machine in order to do his job. Does that mean he must lose his soul? (And I am talking here and now, not in the distant future ie. heaven/hell). I love to bring up The Myth of Redemptive Violence, Hollywood's greatest lie. Bond is definitely one of the greatest flag-bearers of this myth, yet the film seems to attempt to wrestle with this reputation. Bond struggles at times with what he must give up in order to be a 00-agent. He seems to want a "normal" life. Yet he is willing to sacrifice all of that to use, in Pevere's words, "aggression as a solution," so that others may be safe. Is that Christ-like, or the opposite, or both at the same time? What does this way of life do to someone, how does it change them? Is Bond really a good guy? He is a utilitarian (choosing the greatest good for the greatest number of people), yet I always think of the Parable of the Lost Sheep as the antithesis of utilitarianism. Casino Royale is much better than your average Bond film for many reasons, but one big one is the fact that it does not gloss over these questions. It could have gone so much deeper, but who wants to think during an action movie?
The latest Bond is head and shoulders above anthing I have seen since the Connery days. Yet there is consistency. In all Bond movies, as is the case in Casino Royale, one thing is made very clear: the bad guys' lives don't matter at all.

300

Frank Miller's graphic novel 300 is translated to the big screen by Zack Snyder in the recent film of the same name. It is the story of the battle of Thermopylae, circa 480 B.C. Xerxes, King of Persia, has taken over most of the "known world." He is now proceeding to conquer the Greek peninsula, including Sparta. Xerxes offers the Spartans the opportunity to live prosperously, all they have to do is bow down to Persia. But Sparta is proud, and values its freedom above all else. When Xerxes' messenger comes to deliver the news, King Leonidas (Gerard Butler) kicks him down a well, yelling "This is Sparta!." So Persia comes to defend its honor, and bring an iron fist. Their army is absolutely massive, and when they say that their arrows can blot out the sun, they aren't lying. So Leonidas wants to take the Spartans to face them, but is not allowed to because the law states that the oracle must approve. The oracle does not approve. Leonidas takes only 300 men, as a personal bodyguard attachment, to face Xerxes. They believe they can win, because they are Spartans (uber-highly trained soldiers, by the way - they value excellence). What ensues is a testosterone-fest of violence and bloodshed.
300 looks incredibly beautiful. The screen is meant to look like Miller's novel, and that comes across well. There are some scenes that make your jaw drop because they are so cool. In terms of the characters, I went in thinking I would dislike King Leonidas. I ended up really admiring him for his valor, courage, and devotion. He upholds bravery and honor. Yet, he achieves this through brutal violence. Enter Hollywood's "Myth of Redemptive Violence." 300 definitely buys in to the idea that violence can bring about redemption. Jesus did not solve his problems through violence, though he could have easily kicked the snot out of the Romans if he wanted to. Jesus thought there was a better way: forgiveness and reconciliation. Some people would say that those ideas are just not practical in an ancient society, but that is exactly the type of society that Jesus was a part of. In fact, the Romans in Jesus' time were even more powerful than the Persians in the film. And Israel had every reason to be proud and desire freedom, like Sparta in the film. 300 makes us want to fight for something greater than ourselves, and for that it should be applauded. But do we have to "fight" violently? The answer is no.
That brings me to the spiritual battle metaphor. This metaphor is prevalent throughout Christianity. We are at war with evil, with the devil. This is true. There is a battle raging for the souls of humanity. We should give all we have to this battle, to do right, to defend those who are defenceless. But we as Christ-followers are called to overcome evil with good, not "fight fire with fire." Let us uphold honor, courage, sacrifice, the values put forth in 300, but let us be careful, lest we translate those values into violence. God desires Shalom, a deep peace. In the church's history the spiritual battle metaphor has all too often been used to justify killing the "bad people" (ex. Spanish Inquisition). We need to understand that as glorious and exciting as war is, the spiritual battle we wage everyday is even more exciting and vital. Living for Christ, overcoming evil with good, this is the ultimate adventure.
Sparta parallels America in some ways. Sparta values its freedom and pride above all else. Moren than anything, freedom is our idol in America. We will do anything for freedom. That is a very good thing, but sometimes we end up worshiping our freedom, instead of the One who gave us freedom. Also, Sparta has an extreme nationalistic pride, that eventually led to their downfall. Do we (Americans) have that same pride? Sometimes yes, sometimes no.
Interesting side note, I saw a lot of similarities between this film and Eastwood's Letters From Iwo Jima, in terms of their honor code. Never retreat; never surrender.
300 is not necessarily historically accurate in terms of the details, but I think it captures the spirit and attitude of the people. This is the way people thought. They didn't get together and talk about their feelings, they didn't try diplomacy, they fought. For better or worse (ok, for worse) war was a way of life. The film is over-the-top gratuitous with violence, and to some extent sex. There is no sanitation here, it is unapologetic. 300 is a wild romp in the valley of death.

American Gun

"Guns don't kill people, people kill people." True.

American Gun is a relatively unknown "indie" film about the issue of guns in our society, made by newcomer Aric Avelino. There have been many "social issue" films released lately (Crash, Babel, Fast Food Nation, An Inconvenient Truth, etc., etc.), and part of me is getting tired of getting preached at. Yet, the messages are important to hear. And usually the films turn out to be really good. This is the case with American Gun.

American Gun has four seperate yet interwoven storylines, all involving lives that have been altered by the presence of guns. I will briefly summarize.

Plot #1: In Oregon, a Columbine-like school massacre happened a few years ago. And who should we blame when such a horrible thing happens, the parents right? This plot follows the mother of one of the killers; how she has dealt with the tragedy and the scrutiny. I know that when Columbine happened I pointed the finger at the parents of Harris and Kleibold, yet this film gives those parents a face.
Plot #2: The cop who was first on the scene at the massacre years ago deals with his demons and with scrutiny from the public.

Plot #3: A young woman goes off to college on the east coast. She carries on the family legacy not only in school but also in working at the family's gun shop. Guns have always been a part of the family, but she feels awkward around them. But one night she and her friend have a horrifying experience. She feels scared every day, she wants to feel safe. She decides to protect herself and get a gun.

Plot #4: A principal at an inner-city in Chicago is consumed by his job. He wants to make a difference in the kids' lives. His wife and son suffer as a result of his workaholic tendancies. One of his best students carries a gun to school because he walks through some rough neighborhoods. He doesn't keep it loaded, and hides it outside when he goes to class, so he thinks its no big deal. The principal finds the gun.

This film is all about trying to put us in other people's shoes, shoes we would not normally be in. That is a noble effort. We as the viewer can begin to understand what it must feel like to be helpless, and just want to make sure we are safe. We can see that condemnation and judgment bring pain, even if we think that judgment is deserved. We can also see how guns make destruction and death so much easier. So what do we do? How do we solve this problem? I love it when one scene in a film sticks out and summarizes the work as a whole. For me that scene happened in the principal's office. The principal (played by Forrest Whitaker) stares at the ceiling, frustrated that a stain will not go away. There must be a leak somewhere because he keeps replacing the ceiling tile, but the stain seeps through time and time again. It won't go away. We tend to change the outward appearance of things and think we fixed the problem. We make laws, sign petitions, etc. etc. But the problem here is not guns, the problem is people. People are jacked up. Human nature is sinful. We are a depraved race. We can't keep changing the ceiling tiles and think everything will be better. We have to get to the root of the problem. The problem is sin, and the answer is redemption through the blood of Jesus, lest we forget. Nothing will ever change without divine intervention.

American Gun is a small and thought-provoking film that provides the audience with many interesting perspectives. The issue of gun-control is a layered and complicated one, and this film reminds us of that.

Zodiac

Finally, David Fincher (Se7en, The Game, Fight Club) is back making great films after eight years (Panic Room doesn't count). I grew up on Fincher's films. He is the man.
Fincher's latest surrounds the famous unsolved mystery of the Zodiac killer, who terrorized the Bay Area in the late 60's. The story has a two-pronged narrative. The first thread follows a group of reporters at the San Francisco Chronicle, including Paul Avery (Robert Downey Jr.) and cartoonist Robert Graysmith (Jake Gyllenhaal). The second thread focuses on the police investigation, particularly David Toschi (Mark Ruffalo) and William Armstrong (Anthony Edwards). They are all chasing an elusive killer who calls himself the Zodiac. Who is he? Who has he killed? Why does he kill? The Zodiac sends letters to the Chronicle telling them of his latest exploits. He also occasionally includes a cypher with a hidden message. The letters keep coming, and the murders keep happening. The reporters get obsessed and do whatever they can to sniff out the trail. Meanwhile, the detectives are trying to piece together all the evidence strewn across various counties and jurisdictions. The chase is so intriguing that we as the audience tend to forget that this really happened.
The reporters and the detectives eventually get completely caught up in chasing after this madman. Let's focus on Graysmith for a minute. He is the ordinary guy, the everyman. We enter the film through him. He is completely obsessed with the Zodiac. He wants to find the killer and look him in the eye, just so he can know. Graysmith wants justice, but he gets so caught up in bringing justice on a big scale that he neglects justice on a small scale. His marriage suffers, and his children suffer, as the tagline reads "There's more than one way to lose your life to a killer." The investigation goes on and on, and after nine years Graysmith still can't shake this fixation. He eventually writes a book about the killer, and his addiction reflects our own. We tend to care about what is famous and newsworthy more than we care about what is really important. Can't Graysmith move on? Can't we move on? We are like rubberneckers at the scene of an accident. Why are we interested in the most extreme human behavior? The human condition is a sad one. We are sinful, fallen, broken. Not only that, but we seem to be drawn to the worst versions of these qualities. Yet it could be beneficial, because someone needs to stop this killer, right?
Graysmith was a cartoonist, not a cop. What could he do? He wanted to play a part, to have a role, to do something, anything. The Zodiac had made threats against children, and he was a father; he would not sit idly by. He eventually took it into his own hands. God has given us all a desire to be a part of something bigger, and this was Graysmith's "something."
Zodiac goes on and on, but in a good way. It gives many snapshots along a very grueling timeline, spanning nine years (for the most part). It doesn't wrap up nicely, doesn't make complete sense. The film, like the case, just keeps going and going and going. While watching the appalling nature of the killer, the seemingly futile efforts of the police, and the morbid obsession of so many, I coudn't help but think of Ecclesiastes. Chapter 7, verse 15 states "In this meaningless life of mine I have seen both of these: a righteous man perishing in his righteousness, and a wicked man living long in his wickedness." We want everything to work out the way it should, but it usually doesn't. It seems meaningless. Where is the hope? Well this film is not about hope, it's about the psychotic nature of evil. Fincher reminds us that evil exists, especially in the hearts of men. And we can't solve that problem, no matter how hard we try.
Zodiac is beautifully shot, wonderfully executed, dangerously disturbing, and perfectly dark. That's the Fincher I grew to love.