[This first appeared on The Jagged Word on June 16.]
I search out movies the way I search out music: not according to genre, but according to what strikes a human chord. I like music that says something, not music that fits a commercial niche. I don’t want to be sold something; I want to be told something.
So when it comes to horror movies (in which there are, of course, many sub-genres), I need something beyond making me jump. That can be fun for a little while, because the scare is not real. Perhaps we like those films because it’s a way for us to release the stress of real-life fears and we can still turn off the tv at the end. I recently saw Lake Bodom, a Finnish-Estonian horror based around an unsolved murder of four teenagers in 1960. It’s well done and the tension is stretched taught. But, in the end, it’s not much more than a Scandinavian slasher film. If that’s your thing, I’d recommend it. But I can do without the mere spreading of blood and gore across a forest.
On the other hand, there are horrors that touch something far deeper than our fright reflex. Recently, I’ve been impressed by It Follows, The Babadook, and The Taking of Deborah Logan, films that deal with STDs, the death of a father and husband, and dementia, respectively.
[This appeared first at The Jagged Word on June 9]
I want documentaries to document. And I want tension: tension between viewpoints; tension in the progression of the story; tension between the filmmakers and the subjects. Propaganda may be interesting for any number of reasons, but not because of its tension. It has a single-minded purpose and a tunnel-vision perspective. It consciously excludes anything that argues against the obvious purpose. But human beings and the events they observe are complicated. So if there’s no tension, I’m not interested. And I appreciate it when documentaries can document that tension without turning into propaganda.
A documentary that documents a disturbing modern tension is Liberated: The New Sexual Revolution, which screened in April at the Newport Beach Film Festival. The story takes for its starting point the thousands of students who attend Spring Break in Florida. It begins by following a group of Australian boys as they plan out their drinking and partying. The foggy atmosphere of alcohol and sex probably won’t surprise anyone. What might surprise is the flippancy, arrogance, and casual attitudes of the people who appear in the film. But this isn’t a sanitized version of Girls Gone Wild. This isn’t voyeurism dressed up by pearl-clutching and gasping. The only emotion aroused is sadness. Here is the hook-up culture presented without varnish, and there’s nothing sexy about it.
[This appeared first at The Jagged Word on June 2]
Who am I and what am I doing here? Or, to beg a phrase, What the hell is going on!
Why am I talking about films and theology? You definitely don’t need another person, Lutheran or not, telling you what to think about movies.
Good. Because I have no desire to do that. And, beside that, I have no training. I didn’t go to film school. I’m not really sure what a best boy is, or what he does, or if it has to be a boy. I can’t talk the technical language of a professional film critic. However, with that said, I am a short film programmer for the Newport Beach Film Festival, which involved watching more than 300 short films last year. So I’ve seen a thing or two.