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Into the Dark: Seeing the Sacred in the Top Films of the 21st Century (Cultural Exegesis)

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I wish I could summon the spirit of the late Don LaFontaine here - it would come across much more powerful, of course - but I cannot. In a world where required reading often means required time and nothing less, it's a rarity that we're able to dig through the junk to find the jewels. Into the Dark gives you nugget after nugget of the finest film gold. From Memento to Donnie Darko -- 45 of IMDb's top 250 - and page by page, movie by movie, it's a perfectly paced walk through the best aspects of cinema. Detweiler stays the course to provide a trustworthy guide and an altogether insightful interpretation, all the while providing theological insight along the way. It's like watching the movies all over again, with a different set of eyes. A little deeper, a little smarter, a little slower wins the race.

Into the Dark is the journey of films through some of the darkest hours in order to show the brightest of grace. The chapters poignantly scribe the picture of a holistic faith seen in contrast with a dynamic culture. To speak personally, the book acted as an awakening towards the movies I could not reconcile. It was my own journey through the theater in hopes of finding others - Evangelicals even - sitting next to me, ready to commence The Great Discussion with two ears, one mouth and an eternal sense of grace in sight.

I'm sorry to be so critical, but Derweiller's insights in his INTO THE DARK fall short on both the theological and artistic levels. If you want to consider the intersect of faith and the movies, read top line critics Pauline Kael (I LOST IT AT THE MOVIES, FOR KEEPS) or Stephen Hunter (NOW PLAYING AT THE VALENCIA). Hunter, for instance, argues perceptively that Quentin Tarentino defines sin solely as being boring. Kael, for her part, might have dubiously preached treating films for their emotional effect rather than their structure or intellectual content. But, at least she could explain why she held her stance when she was hostile to the spirituality of a film like TENDER MERCIES. I had no sense of Derweiller ever having that ability with the films chosen. The appeal apparently is that he is writing from a "Christian" perspective. But, just like poor "Christian rock," this is poor Christian movie reviewing trying to read the spiritual out of something creational. You would be much better off reading Hunter, Ebert, Denby, Lane, and other noted movie critics to get at the philosophical heart of a movie.

I know this is a very hard review, and I wanted to like the book, but it was nearly unreadable.

It has taken me time to slowly digest the writings of Craig Detweiler's text, "Into the Dark." There is so much wisdom and years of life experiences that emanate from these pages that I can only address concepts that engage my own personal experiences. Like Detweiler, my personal film experiences as a youngster were about escapism and entertainment. I loved going to the movies. I remember being dropped off at the movie theater by my dad and seeing a triple James Bond feature with Doug Smith, my 7th grade friend, and still wanting more after the movie ended. I used my imagination and a world of make believe as a form of escapism. I can recall spending hours in the bathroom and my bedroom fantasizing that I was Bruce Lee beating up the bad guys with my Kung Fu moves.

I found Paul Schrader's description of the formation of a canon as a story very fascinating: "To understand the canon is to understand its narrative. Art is a narrative. Life is a narrative. The universe is a narrative. To understand the universe is to understand its history. Each and every thing is part of a story -- beginning, middle, and end." The thing that resonates in my heart as an artist is how to lead the viewer to the divine story, as referred by Jurgen Moltmann. How can I ask the right questions so the viewer is prompted to reflect and somehow have a general revelation from God? Moltmann said, "Critic Jonathan Rosenbaum acknowledged the power and importance of a film canon as an educational tool. It should start arguments about the art of cinema, causing us to reflect on what matters and why." As an educator and pastor, I am always seeking ways to have my students dig deeper and ask important and meaningful questions. Everything I use in the classroom, on set, or in the ministry can be defined as an educational tool that equips. This creates a series of experiments that have a built-in safety net and provides growth.

I agree with Detweiler about practicing what Jurgen Moltmann has advocated. This leads to an intimate relationship with the Lord and a divine connection with the Holy Spirit. "It is possible to experience God in, with and beneath each everyday experience of the world, if God is in all things, and if all things are in God, so that God himself experiences all things in his own way." To answer this question, "How can God communicate through such unlikely means as movies?" I found the term "general revelation" to be an interesting concept. Detweiler states, "The theological term to describe this phenomenon is general revelation. It suggests that God can speak through anyone or anything at any time." Detweiler continues, "Christ remains our only saving grace, but movies can provide moments of grace as well. They dispense comfort and hope. Only God knows which debased art forms can still prove helpful to the mysterious ways of the Spirit." God can use anyone at anytime for His will. The Wachowski Brothers weren't believers, yet they incorporated Christian-Judeo allegories in the box office hit "The Matrix."

Jurgen Moltmann said, "The theology of revelation is church theology, a theology for pastors and priests. The theology of experience is pre-eminently lay theology." The films I made before I was a follower of Christ engaged and challenged audiences. There were even some biblical themes that were addressed unintentionally. God used me as an artist before I was a follower and spoke through my films. The reverse hermeneutics of the Spirit guiding us from art (beauty) to ethics (goodness) to theology (truth) tends to be the process I work from when creating films and works of art. I agree that art making emerges from divine action. It is my passion to tell stories that reflect where I am spiritually, physically, and emotionally in life. I share the same sentiment that Detweiler does, wanting the viewer to connect with the story and to experience the grace of God. "Into the Dark" continues to challenge me to look, listen and receive where God is leaving an imprint in movies.

In many ways, the four star rating system of film critics have killed the film goer's experience. We have slowly dismantled the relationship between the viewer and the film on the basis of "entertainment" value. What can this film do for me?

Craig Detweiler's Into the Dark offers a welcomed alternative to the pervasive mentality. As Detweiler unleashes his wealth of knowledge on film history, production, and the culture it permeates, we are confronted with deeper questions surrounding film, their meaning, and their place amongst theological study. By taking his cues from the top 21st century films on the IMDB (Internet Movie Database), Detweiler asks two prominent questions: Is there a particular film narrative that has emerged in the postmodern era (or within what he calls the "new film canon")? And, does God reveal himself through film?

Detweiler tackles the first of these questions by diving head first "into the dark" of the film noir of our day. By taking a bird's eye view of films such as Memento, The Departed, and Batman Begins, Detweiler sheds light on the emerging patterns of identity, self deception, and depravity. In a similar vein, Detweiler analyzes the imperfections of humanity midst films such as Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and Walk the Line. The complexities of community emerge front and center in Hotel Rwanda and Crash. And ethics take the focus in the conversational films Million Dollar Baby and Talk to Her. And so on...

But if this journey in film exegesis stopped at topical discussion, we would find ourselves with a mere collection of movie reviews. Here is where the genius of Detweiler's culture analysis comes to life. As our second question (Does God reveal himself through film?) gets addressed, we discover two prominent realities at play: 1) general revelation transcends our (often presumed) constructs and is deeply immersed in culture, art, and the profane and 2) the role of the viewer matters.

The understanding (and expectation) of general revelation is central to Detweiler's thesis as depending on how one approaches such a topic, everything shifts. Taking his cues from theological greats such as Bart, Schleiermacher, Moltmann and Balthasar (to name a few), Detweiler confronts the actual reality of God "having made himself known" not only through the person of Christ but through the work of the Holy Spirit today. In order to understand its relevancy for film, Detweiler champions Balthasar's (alongside others) reversal of the hermeneutical flow. Rather than approach theology (as most evangelicals do) from TRUTH to GOODNESS to BEAUTY, Detweiler asks what more might we "know" and "encounter" by starting with BEAUTY and subsequently arriving at TRUTH. For Detweiler, it is a marriage of "film and theology" on the notion that God does in fact reveal today. And this revelation often occurs in the most peculiar of places - say Martin Scorsese's Raging Bull.

A prominent offer of Detweiler that should not go ignored is his challenge to the viewer and the way we approach and/or "see" film. As we discover in Christopher Nolan's Memento, where one sits determines what one sees. The question Detweiler weaves throughout his discourse remains: where do you sit? It is here that we truly discover that our approach and posture to film matters. Rooted in Christ's own prophetic warning in Matthew 13, we are tasked with asking whether our eyes and ears are open. The understanding of general revelation becomes mere academia without its grounding in our everyday real experiences and encounters - no matter if we are face to face with beauty or have stepped into the dark.

Christians need to get back into the mainstream media if they are to avoid locking themselves up in a cultural ghetto. Instead of focussing on producing Christian films and television shows that are seen only by other Christians, they need to consider how Christian values can be communicated to mass audiences, in accordance with Jesus' command to preach to the whole world. Dr Detweiler shows how this can be done by illustrating how Christian themes are already found in recent blockbusters. In doing so, he also shows that Christian values are far more deeply entrenched in our culture - even in the very secular culture of Hollywood - than most people realise. Christians can build on this if they can get into the media. Of course, the great danger for Christians engaging with the secular mainstream is that they may be tempted to compromise too much. If any criticism can be levelled at this book, it is that Dr Detweiler lays himself open to that danger: an admirer of Jurgen Moltmann, he is perhaps too inclined to compromise in his theology and his politics, and also perhaps too eager to see Christian themes in films where there are none. That said, he deserves great credit for taking the first steps in the right direction; other Christians should follow.

Craig Detweiler is involved with the Reel Spiritualy Institute and the Brehm Center, both affiliated with Fuller Theological Seminary in southern California. In these efforts Craig has established a solid track record in interacting with contemporary cinema from an evangelical Christian perspective. In his previous book, A Matrix of Meanings (Baker Academic, 2003), which he co-authored with Barry Taylor, Craig helped lay a theological foundation for a Christian engagement with popular culture. With Into the Dark Craig builds upon this foundation to consider contemporary cinema.

Evangelicals will likely find Craig's interaction with various genres of film most interesting as he seeks to see and hear God speak through what many evangelicals might consider the most unlikely sources for hearing God's voice. While Craig's insights on the theological aspects of film are indeed interesting, for me the most helpful aspect of this volume is his discussion of a methodology and foundation for Christian engagement with film.

As Craig develops his methodology he moves beyond the all too frequent evangelical tendencies toward wholesale dismissal or unqualified embrace. This book represents an accessible yet well thought out engagement with film that is faithful to both cinema in its own right, as well as evangelical theological considerations, thus providing a balanced consideration of one of the more popular forms of pop culture in the 21st century.

Three additional facets of Craig's methodology are worthy of reflection. First, Craig is not only interested in a rational consideration of cinema, but begins with a theological aesthetic that is aimed at reuniting beauty, goodness and truth, and he seeks to do so in this order. While Craig appreciates the rational emphasis of evangelicalism as it connects with modernity, he also recognizes that this has at times been unbalanced to the neglect of aesthetic considerations that are especially important in late modernity/post-modernity. Second, Craig emphasizes a neglected aspect of Protestant theology, that of general revelation, God's revelation in culture in all of its facets. Without due consideration of general revelation, Craig wonders whether many have missed "the transcendent, revelatory possibilities of film" as a result. Third, Craig brings theology into dialogue with culture, two spheres often kept in unfortunate isolation from one another, and this facet of his methodology results in "an audience-driven, receptor-oriented methodology." One of the ways in which this methodology manifests itself is Craig's choice of interacting with the top films chosen by the Internet Movie Database, rather than those selected by the American Film Institute. In Craig's thinking the IMDB likely represents a "new canon" of the most popular films that more accurately reflects a democratized and global source of critical film opinion of rank and file viewers, something not found in the opinions of professional film critics represented by institutions like AFI and its membership.

Evangelicals are often behind the times in responding to cultural trends, but with this volume Craig Detweiler has demonstrated that evangelicals are actively involved in the theological engagement with film as one of the more popular expression of pop culture. Evangelicals will benefit from this book in a variety of uses, whether individual reflection, a source of pastoral preaching, or small group study.

Having been born in the mid-seventies, I cannot relate to having my cinematic interest piqued by the likes of Hornet's Nest or Raging Bull. Instead, I was seduced by the likes of the original Star Wars Trilogy, the Indiana Jones films and even the Rocky movies. Good triumphed over evil, self-sacrifice in the name of all that is right kept the Ark out of the hands of evil and the underdog fighter overcame adversity and long-shot odds to redeem not only his life, but the lives of his love and their child. I have to admit, Indiana Jones alone was reason enough to inspire me into the acting business. As I got older, while my parents were cautious about my exposure to films beyond "what a Christian should view", I still craved any and all interesting film stories I could get in front of. Some of these stories were mindless fluff and violence like most boys my age were attracted to, but as I grew out of that I still sought that which was of substance. I remember anticipating the Academy Awards every year from the time I was ten. I remember seeing Twelve Angry Men and thinking that I wanted to be inspired by movies all the time like I was with that one. I also wondered why my parents would not allow me to see material that was too violent or contained adult themes, when the Bible stories I was assigned to read form Sunday School seemed very adult themed. Given that background, I thoroughly enjoyed the material presented in Into the Dark.
As a pre-read for a trip to Sundance 2009, I think this book frames most, if not all, the genres (of film) a person might encounter at an independent film festival in terms of how God is "generally revealed" through the films. What is interesting is that each of the chapters seems to relate the general revelation of God through the desire or search for community/connection/person-to-person contact (in a positive way). When it is absent or expressed in a way less than positive, the God of that story's universe is missing. Whatever the genre of film, the connection is lost, and the characters seek out again, hoping to find the good in life, the connection that one might consider the "unknown God" they seek out or the person to whom they "see the face of Christ on" when they interact with them. I found this particularly interesting as the first few films I saw at the festival were all about a missing connection, or person-to-person contact changing a life, making a difference. The materialistic ultimately meant nothing. The stories being told in the films at Sundance this year mirrored the films highlighted in "Into the Dark".
As I reflect on this further (my reaction as a minor) about not being able to view films with adult content, but being able to read the Old Testament, I think about how God was revealed much in the same way as these films as He was in the Old Testament, before Jesus had become the specific revelation. Out of the dysfunctional decisions that Judah made in ostracizing his daughter-in-law and mistakenly soliciting her, the line of David and Jesus himself came about; hope out of brokenness. Just like Eternal Sunshine, Lord of the Rings, etc.
The question, for me, comes in the conclusion of the book, in bridging the general to the specific. Studying this material under the umbrella of a Christian believer makes it a bit easier to see. How does a non-believing person make that jump? Jim Carrey may relish the good and be able to face the reality of the not-so-good in another human being, but what makes it any better than just being "a good person"? What is the delineation of the God I worship and the "house gods" (or present day equivalent) that humans will innately seek out as spiritual beings? What makes the revelation specific for them? How do we tactfully come into that conversation with them without scaring them away? Without preaching to them? Is that for me to even ask? I suppose to further the question, was that the point of the book? Is it for a believer to read and be convinced that what they see and point to as some of the top films of the 21st century ring true because the "unknown" that they seek is God? I suppose it is not the answer really but more the way to open the door for the question to be considered. As the church seems to be in decline (attendance wise), while the films that remain in pop-culture popularity show an increase in spirituality/hope-seeking, those committed to follow the great commission must consider the ways in which God uses His creation to speak. Pop-culture is listening and yearning for some sort of spiritual connection, through people, through life, through whatever they can find. Let us hope we can be used of God to bring specificity from the generality.

Reading Craig Detweiler's Into the Dark was like a good meal for me. I ate it, drank it in, and savored every bit of it. Parts of it, I ended up chewing over and over again, attempting to glean any residual "nutrition" that remained. Other parts, I sat with for a while, appreciating the challenge they presented or the artistic beauty they exuded and examining myself in light of each new tidbit. And like most great meals, I felt a hint of sadness at the end, feeling comfortably full yet desiring just one more morsel of deliciousness.

One such topic that I ruminated over, much like a cow with its cud, was the issue of common grace. Having no formal theological education (yet), I must, somewhat embarrassingly, admit that common grace is not a theological issue that I have spent much brainpower on. As such, the "new" subject of common grace is fascinating for me, as is the controversy surrounding it. Chapter 1 of Detweiler's book titled "Methodology: Into the Darko" continues to surprise me each time I re-read it (at the time of this writing, I'm on my fourth reading). It captivates me, especially the sections relating to common grace. Detweiler's admitted goal for the book is his "search for that wild, untamed God who reveals whatever to whomever whenever God chooses" (pg. 30); an unofficial goal likely being solidification of the reader's idea that common grace translates to the movie screen as well. While being sure not to undermine the authority of Scripture or the replacement of church-going with movie-viewing, Detweiler asserts "the surprising work of the Spirit knows no bounds" (pg. 31), including Hollywood's silver screen. This unresolved issue is one that I keep delving into because with each new layer I uncover, I discover something fresh, worth taking time with and ruminating on over and again.

As I sensed this book drawing to a close, I couldn't wipe away the sense of sadness I felt. Even as I read the final chapter, I felt my eyes welling with tears at several points. Why? I asked myself that very question each time. I was full, full of things to ponder, challenges that presented themselves for inner reflection, beautiful possibilities to consider. What more could I ask for? As I felt myself being pulled into the stories of the Hobbits from the Shire, I remembered my fear for their safety as I watched the first film of the series, my dread as Merry & Pippin were overtaken in the second film and my tears of elation when the King was finally crowned and the Hobbits returned to their beloved home in the final film. I still cannot put a finger on the reason for the tears tugging at the corner of my eyes and the feeling in the pit of my stomach when I finished the last chapter and put the book down, but I think that it felt something like hope, hope in Tolkien's belief that no one is past the point of redemption, hope that I can be surrounded by community as strong as Frodo had with his Fellowship, and hope that common grace and the wind of the Spirit can indeed blow through the celluloid images of films and point us to Christ.

[...]

Detweiler blogs about working toward understanding between religious and secular, postmodern culture. He argues that movies are a good place for Christians to learn from a fractured, postmodern world. In his book, Into the Dark, he considers many of the films in the Internet Movie Database's user-ranked list of the 250 Movies14, which is, as Detweiler admits, an odd list. Of course, the demotic and non-authoritative nature of the list is the reason Detweiler chose it, it samples the films people watch and talk about, not just canonical film. While Detweiler is fun to read, his book is not cohesive or well-organized and much of what he writes doesn't make sense, critically or semantically. He will casually uses Biblical words, phrases, and allusions in any given sentence. It's easy to miss his point or be perplexed by his point all together. Consider this statement,

"Art and commerce met in the films created by Hollywood's "holy trinity" of Coppola, Spielberg, and Lucas. Francis Ford Coppola served as the literal godfather to a new generation of filmmakers fresh out of film school."

Or one of my favorites,

"Despite our unprecedented financial and scientific success in the modern era, the twenty-first century can be characterized as a return to the Dark ages."

Here he writes about the films of Quentin Tarantino,

"Like John the Baptist crying in the wilderness, Tarantino was a forerunner for the messy, transcendent movies that have followed."

And he later on continues,

"To some, his success signaled the decline of Western civilization. But to dedicated fanboys (and girls), Tarantino's unlikely rise demonstrates the newer, democratic possibilities of filmmaking, film criticism, and even theology: general revelation in action."

And there is more,

"Quentin Tarantino married postmodern surfaces and brutal violence with the transcendent possibilities of film. Tarantino's disciples were inspired by the psychic power of cinema to simultaneously outrage and inspire. While some were attracted to Tarantino's higher calling, other unleashed even flashier (and emptier) forms of film noir."

These cryptic comments about Tarantino bring me to one of Detweiler's main topics. Detweiler describes a resurgence of film noir and oddly identifies Tarantino has one of the most important figures in this movement, further placing Darren Aronofsky, Christopher Nolan, Alejandro Gonzales, and Guy Ritchie as Tarantino's disciples. I had difficulty following Detweiler's definition of film noir15, but I think I understand his broader point. He is arguing that in dark (noir) films sin bears itself out in the "grim consequences of a world without God"; indeed he says Richard Rodriguez's16 Sin City is the "apothesis of film noir." "Film noir at its best reveals our cold, cold hearts. It understands the murderous impulses that lurk beneath our civil veneer," he summarizes.

Just like other critics, Detweiler professes the belief that to be human is to act sinfully. The real difference between Detweiler and other critics, in my reading, is that Detweiler argues that Christian's should be willing to see and discuss any serious or popular film. He says that Christian is not an adjective. I took this as a rhetorical statement, since Christian is more of an adjective, a type of person or belief system, than it is a noun: Christian should not be a genre or label for art and Christian values should not be a measure of a movie's watchability. It's odd then, in his writing on postmodern art, when Detweiler regularly uses postmodern as an adjective; the suggestion seeming to be that postmodernity is not a cultural or historical trend, it's a movement or a point-of-view. The same goes for moral relativism, which is not a trend from scientific or humanistic facts on the ground, but it too is a political, anti-Christian movement. Again, unlike others, Detweiler is not denouncing the glorification of sin and nihilism in movies these days. He tries to avoid accusing filmmakers of playing tricks on us, manipulating emotions, or tempting an audience into sin. Detweiler wants people to watch films as an occasion for understanding: "Only when we agree that we have things worth discussing, convictions worth dying for, can we engage in meaningful dialogue." Still, I did not do very well in understanding much of Detweiler's book, partly because of the cant and mushy language he uses, and I often suspected that he was trying to appear more open-minded about certain films than he really was.

Craig Detweiler's Into the Dark is an excellent resource and appropriate supplement for readers of Johnston's Reel Spirituality (or, vice-versa). The author uses the introduction to first get personal with the reader by explaining his own fascination with film, and then to set forth a basic theological framework for the book. Chapter 1 serves as a further introduction to the content of the book, with chapters highlighting three themes following: Identity, Community, and History. Rather than attempting to comment on the entire book (given the length of this review), what follows here are comments on the various concepts and statements that affected this reader the most.

To begin with Detweiler's introduction, I can certainly relate to his testimony about the power of film in his life. One of my earliest memories is being grounded as a child from television, only to have my father sneak me out of bed long after my mother was asleep to watch what then seemed to be a stunning movie about giant ants attacking a village. That was nearly 35 years ago, and my infatuation with movies - and especially the horror/sci-fi genre, has continued unabated. Like the author, movies for me became a sort of "coping mechanism - a way to keep hope alive in a dark period of my life" (p. 9). Once believing that this was unacceptable (i.e., that I should be leaning on God alone), I now realize that it is also within the scope of God's Kingdom that the Sovereign Lord of all spoke to me through such movies.

Having been exposed to the concept of general revelation early on in my life, it is thrilling to read Detweiler's application of this concept to film. If all human beings image God, and if creativity is His expressive gift to humanity, it stands to reason that many films (though not all - the Imago Dei remains twisted in a fallen world) will demonstrate aspects of eternity being placed in our hearts (Ecc. 3:10-11). Further, since eternity is placed in human hearts and not always in human minds - glimpses of God and His kingdom may not always be conscious expressions. In one way, this is the grand cosmic joke: humanity images God whether humanity knows this or not. In this sense, every film maker is potentially a Nebuchadnezzar or a Cyrus. And some of them may well turn out to be a Rahab, a visiting Magi, or a Cornelius.

I was especially impressed by the references to Tolkien's essay "On Fairy-Stories," which I knew to have been influential in the conversion of C.S. Lewis but had never actually read. Recasting the notion of "escapist" entertainment as an eschatological longing on humanity's part for transcendent Joy hit me as nothing short of revelatory. In Chapter 1, Detweiler's survey of movies that may have initially "failed" due to what amounts to bad timing (i.e., the social context was wrong for the film when released) was also very helpful in explaining why many of the movies he speaks of (e.g., Shawshank Redemption, Lady in the Water) remain personal favorites of mine despite poor box-office returns.

The appeal to general revelation, as Detweiler suggests (pp. 37-41), is probably a significant key to effective apologetics in our contemporary world. As a sociologists, I have found this approach most enlightening ever since reading Peter Berger's Rumor of Angels, written to offset impressions left by his previous book suggesting that religion is "socially constructed." Using the more contemporary example of N.T. Wright's Simply Christian, Detweiler highlights the use of various "echoes" of the Divine that all human beings are likely to appreciate and respond to. Among such echoes are the many situations and themes explored in the world of film.

Detweiler's book is really an exploration of what it means to take the concept of general revelation seriously. In between the lines of the first 58 pages or so are hints of a prayer I am sure that the author uttered more than once: "God, I know you are speaking in this world and I want to hear you. As I watch the movies I love so much, give me ears to hear You." The rest of the book basically exposes the reader to how God answered Detweiler. As I read, I was sometimes surprised to find that God had spoken to me in similar ways through those very same films. Too often, I was not so surprised to learn that God had spoken but that I had missed Him in the moment. Although this book looks - on the surface - to be a tour of "God's Voice" in the movies Detweiler chooses to write about, such a description is not entirely accurate. For this reader, the book is more like this: "Hey, here's the frame of mind I took as a viewer of movies and here are the amazing things God showed me," with the conclusion being summarized in the exhortation to "Go and do likewise."

William Kilgore