Man of Hope and Steel

"You will give the people an ideal to strive towards. They will race behind you, they will stumble, they will fall. But in time, they will join you in the sun." 

The new Superman rocks. Let's just get that out of the way. Critics have had mixed opinions, but the word-of-mouth has been excellent. I've read a number of reviews featuring the foundational stories that gave birth to Superman (Moses and Gilgamesh), the increasingly overt Christian themes, and the hidden atheist message embedded in it.  Since religion is already being dissected so vigorously, I will focus on another aspect of the film. In a world struggling to understand how to live well, Zach Snyder offers a story in which the importance of establishing a healthy ethical base takes center stage. Two key scenes set the stage.

Scene 1: After Clark saves the children in a school bus from drowning, his father gently chides him for taking the risk of being discovered. Clark rightly asks, "What was I supposed to do - let them drown?" Jonathan replies, "Maybe." His reason is the the world is not ready to handle someone like Clark, a seeming god among men. So until the world (and Clark, and perhaps most importantly Jonathan) is ready, Clark should hide his power and allow some tragedies in which he could intervene to play out. It's for the greater good.

Scene 2: Zod explains to Superman that the Kryptonian's evolutionary advantage has put them on a road to survival paved with the bodies of those who are not as fit. It's just the way it is. Zod was born to be a soldier, to fight for race and defend his people, and all that matters is that the Kryptonian race survive and flourish. Terraforming the earth and killing everyone? It's for the greater good.

If you are like me, you found the first scene to be poignant and the second repulsive. I suspect that's what Snyder wants you to feel. Zod is obviously a villain ("Boo, genocide!") but Jonathan is humble and nice ("Yay, loving parental concern!").  However, as the film unfolded, this consequentialist approach to life clearly revealed a potentially fatal flaw.

World War Z

"The monsters that rose from the dead, they are nothing compared to the ones we carry in our hearts.”

In an attempt to enter into and better understand the entertainment shaping my kids and the rest of today's youth, I submit my latest review of books effecting a primarily YA audience. My goal is not to critique the art form as much as look at how the story reflects and shapes the readers' worldview.

This review will look at World War Z a novel by Max Brooks. Inspired by Studs Terkel's The Good War, this book is being rightly credited with transforming the zombie genre.*  Paramount's film starring Brad Pitt hits theaters on June 21st. It remains to be see how well this movie will translate onto the screen.

There will be spoilers.

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World War Z unfolds through a series of interviews with the key players who helped humanity survive the zombie apocalypse. It's been 12 years since VA day in America, and the UN has commissioned a Postwar Commission Report. This book chronicles the interviews of one reporter as he journeys around the world to get to the truth about what really happened.

Patient Zero, a 12-year-old Chinese boy, was bitten by an animal.  That much is pretty clear. The how and why of the spread is a story of human ineptitude, greed, misinformation, and tragedy. As opposed to much of current zombie lore, World War Z for the most part looks away from the gore and looks instead at how the world as we know it would change as people perpetuate or fight the plague. In the process, the author’s literary eye scans entire nations as well as the most heartbreaking individual stories. 

The approach is nothing short of brilliant. Brooks examines religion, politics, family structures, international tensions, the pharmacutical industry, the military, economic systems, the impact of geography, weather, and national mindsets…the list goes on. I expected a predictable story of gore and despair; I found a thought-provoking and honest look at death, life, hope and the human condition.

Star Trek: Into (Hearts Of) Darkness

Star Trek Into Darkness seems to give a nod to Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness not only in its title but in the journey through the moral murkiness that lurks in even the best of us. The book is primarily about the twilight of souls unable to see the light of morality, goodness and virtue. The movie highlights the fact that it's not the galactic space around us that is the true final frontier of undiscovered country. It's the moral space within us.

When Kirk’s mentor is killed by Khan, Kirk understandably wants to get revenge. Though the law requires him to arrest Khan and bring him to trial, he’s ready and willing to subvert the system and just kill him.  Well aware that his actions may start a war, he speeds toward Klingon territory to exact his revenge. Spock challenges him to do the right thing.  Sure, Kirk’s anger is understandable, and his harsh revenge is a rough kind of justice, but at what point would Kirk become the evil he was trying to fight? Do noble ends justify ignoble means, or must both be good?

Django Unchained

At a pivotal moment in Django Unchained, Django is told to shoot a man in front of the man’s own son. Django hesitates, but Schultz, a bounty hunter for whom he works, reminds him the man is worth $7,000, and he’s a wanted criminal. Well, then. “Like slavery, “ he explains to a man who understands slavery, “it’s a flesh for cash business.” 

Fast forward to a scene where Schultz chides Django for his apparent callousness to the cruelties around him. Django replies, 

“I recall the man who had me kill another man in front of his son.  You said, ‘This is my world, and in my world you gotta’ get dirty. I’m getting dirty.’

At that moment, in spite of the Tarantinoian odds, Django Unchained was primed to show how the journey into moral compromise makes monsters of us all. Instead, blood runs, infernos burn,  and audiences cheer vengeance as everyone just gets a little dirter.  So, do noble ends justify ignoble means, or must both be good? 

Sympathy for the Devilish: A Review of Joe Hill's "Horns"

 In an attempt to enter into and better understand the entertainment shaping my kids and the rest of today's youth, I submit my latest review of books effecting a primarily YA audience. My goal is not to critique the art form as much as look at how the story reflects and shapes the readers' worldview.

This review will look at Horns, a novel by Joe Hill, talented son of Stephen King. As is increasingly the case with popular YA fiction, a movie is in the works (Mandalay Pictures and Red Granite Pictures are making sure Horns comes soon to a theater near you, with Harry Potter Daniel Radcliffe cast in the lead).

There will be spoilers.

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Most people believe that Ignatius Martin Perrish raped and killed his girlfriend, Merrin. Ig didn’t do this, but since that tragedy he has steadily spiraled into chaos. He wakes up one morning after a drunken binge to discover horns growing out of his head. It makes a twisted kind of sense. The horns are just a visible reminder of what is arising deep inside. To make matters worse, when people get near him they reveal their most evil thoughts. He sees their history in a moment when they touch him, and it’s not pleasant.

He learns that his friends, family, priests, doctors, and policemen all secretly hate him, but they are hardly in a position to judge, They have their own terrible secrets. As Ig realizes that he has the power to influence them toward things they secretly want to do, he begins to embrace the hell within and use his power to create a world more to his liking.

“Now that he was used to it, he far preferred being a demon. The cross was a symbol of that most human condition: suffering. And Ig was sick of suffering. If someone had to get nailed to a tree, he wanted to be the one holding the hammer… If you were going to live in hell on earth, there was something to be said for being one of the devils. ”

This book’s language is coarse, its characters crude, and its message terrible. Did I say that bluntly enough? It's also extremely engaging. Mr. Hill is an accomplished writer, and he understands his YA crowd. If you have teens or work with them in some capacity, Horns is worth knowing about just so you understand the way in which this generation increasingly views the world. Trust me; it's unsettling.

Bumper Sticker Logic #2

At a red light in Traverse City last year, I waited behind a car that appeared to be held together entirely with bumper stickers. My amusement changed to annoyance when I realized that my 11-year-old sitting next to me was learning some new words while absorbing some bad ideas.  Who knew so much crass and shallow thinking could fit onto the back of a car?

Last week, while waiting at a different light, the multiple stickers on the car in front of me got me thinking again. It began with this slogan:

"Remember to always be yourself. Unless you suck."

I wouldn't put it on my own car, but it earned a chuckle. I get so tired of phrases like "Always be yourself," as well as its more aesthetic cousin “You’re beautiful just the way you are!” When used properly, these sentiments can bolster the self-image of someone who has been wrongly shamed by reminding them they have a value that transcends opinions and circumstances. That's when it's used properly. In general, I hear versions of it mindlessly parroted by the self-indulgent "don't judge me" crowd.

This "Always Be Your Own Beautiful Self!" scenario sounds really good in a song, but even Christina Aguilera's stellar pipes do not have the power to change an important truth about the world:  some things in all of us are not beautiful.  Sometimes, the people pointing out ugly things are right.

Oblivion: Of Machines and Men

Oblivion is a beautiful film. I'm a fan of sci-fi already; give me an alien invasion, sweeping landscapes, a shattered moon, clever plot twists and beautiful people, and yes - I will be entertained.

Having said that, Oblivion ultimately failed to satisfy, and I left the theater frustrated for several different reasons.

First, Oblivion was a poorly written film with an almost comical amount of plot holes. Since the purpose of this blog is to focus on worldviews rather than the art of storytelling, I will leave it to other sites to provide the details.

Second (and more importantly), the movie failed to give meaningful answers to the questions it raised. As Grantland noted, "Oblivion is something you want to be inside of. Upon entry, you'd have plenty of room to notice how hollow it is."  I firmly agree.

Warning: I'm going to give away the plot. You need the backstory to understand a key worldview question the movie addressed in its own charmingly inept way:  What does it mean to be human?

The Forest of Hands and Teeth

In an attempt to enter into and better understand the stories, worldviews, and messages shaping my kids and the rest of today's youth, I submit my latest review of trending books, films, and TV shows effecting a primarily YA audience. My goal is not to critique the art form as much as look at how the story reflects and shapes  the readers' worldview.

This review will look at Carrie Ryan’s The Forest of Hands and Teeth, the first book in a hugely popular zombie apocalypse series. As is increasingly the case with popular YA novels, a movie is in the works.

There will be spoilers.
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Mary has lived inside a fence all her life. The Unconsecrated (zombies) lurk in the woods, and no one knows if there are any other survivors. The Guardians protect the fences, while the Sisterhood indoctrinates the survivors. Police at the walls of the city; church at the walls of their hearts and minds. The community is ordered, purposeful and exasperatingly pragmatic. Humanity has a long road ahead, and purpose rather than passion will pave the way.

Mary is the now-to-be-expected YA rebel. Though her mother told her stories about the ocean, of freedom and goodness and hope beyond the fence, Mary does not believe her. She also does not believe in a God who allowed her father to become one of the Unconsecrated. One day her mother gives up on her own stories and goes to the fence, allowing herself to be bitten so she can join her husband. Mary holds her until she dies.

This loss of parents is a common plot twist in YA literature.  In every single book I have read in the past year and a half, one or both parents are either gone or dead. Every. Single. One. I’m not sure there is a more obvious marker of the yearning in our youth for stability and love in a culture of divorce and abandonment.

In the brief span between death and Unconsecration, Mary's beliefs about God crystalize:

     “ I stop believing in God… I wait for [the Scriptures] to calm me, to infuse me with light and grace. But it does not come, does not fill the hollow ache inside me. I wonder if I will ever feel whole again now that I no longer believe in God.”