Boy Erased

The film, Boy Erased (2018), is a drama that deals in a serious  way with the question of whether homosexuality is a choice, and thus whether conversion therapy is effective or an ideological ruse under the subterfuge of psychology and religion. Directed and adapted to the screen by Joel Edgerton, he could have dived deeper in writing the screenplay by making explicit the contending assumptions and ideas. Surprisingly, nowhere in the film do any of the biblically-oriented religionists quote the applicable verses in the Old Testament or in Paul's letters, or engage in a theological debate. The film could have gone further intellectually than the relatively superficial emphasis on the dramatic narrative.

The story centers around the post coming-out tension between Jared Eamons and his parents Nancy and Rev. Marshall Eamons. They are biblically-oriented, socially conservative Christians. That Marshall is the pastor of a church tells us just how important religion is to that family. Nancy and Marshall send Jared to a conversion-therapy day-program run by Victor Sykes. Jared is under pressure to lie in order to avoid having to move into one of the bunk houses on the church premises for a year. This is not, however, to say that Victor is an ordained clergyman; neither is he educated or even trained in therapy or even counseling, as Nancy finds out when she finally comes to remove Jared from the program. She tells her son that he will be coming home with her in spite of Marshall’s decision that the boy could no longer live in the house as long as he is gay. The assumption here is that a gay person could become heterosexual.

That Victor has no credentials either in religion or psychology is something that Nancy suspects after looking over Jared’s materials from the program (Jared and his mother stay at a hotel during the day-program). The lack of credentials as a clergy or in Christian counseling or therapy is not made much of in the film. The matter of clergyless congregations, such as Quaker unprogrammed Meetings, is thus not attended to. Specifically, the assumption typically under the rubric of the priesthood of the people dismisses or otherwise ignores the theological and ministerial knowledge (and practice) gained at divinity schools and seminaries. To be sure, clergy atop a church hierarchy can exploit their esoteric knowledge by ignoring that of the laity. Hence, some congregations have clergy whereas others do not.

I visited a Bahai place of worship a few times in 2019 because I had not studied that religion in my formal education. Believing that anyone can have access to the knowledge contained in the scriptures, the members of the Bahai religion eschew a clergy in principle and practice. I detected a real bias against people who have advanced knowledge. In fact, some of the members and even an associated non-member displayed an instinctual-like aversion to me after I had informed them of my academic credentials, including a ministry degree. In a discussion group, for instance, when I was introducing myself, the group leader (not a Bahai member, though a regular) interrupted me with the false claim that the group was representative of the Bahai faith. I suspect he was trying to discredit me, perhaps from a fervent belief in ideological egalitarianism which denies the value of expertise. 

I returned to the group a few more times, as I was able to learn quite a bit from the Bahai members about their religion. The same man was presiding. After I had just spoken, a woman asked me a specialized question directed to me (i.e., related to the expert knowledge I had just imparted). The group's leader interrupted me as I was beginning to answer the woman, aggressively insisting, "The question is for the group!" I saw in this response a stubborn refusal to recognize my expertise in religion. That he thought some non-scholars could answer the question just because they were laity demonstrated to me the cognitive-warping impact of ideology, including prejudice. I left the group immediately; I had seen enough. I understood why the religion refused to have clergy.

A week later, a Bahai member who had been at the group called me to try to convince me to come back to the group. Enforcing my scholar-identity, I said I would be glad to come back and give a talk or lead a discussion group. The member bristled, as if I were claiming too much for myself. This told me that he (and others) were disinclined to recognize me as a scholar (i.e., having expert knowledge) to such an extent that they had ignored my stated reason for being there and instead thought I was there because I was interesting in becoming a member. In actuality, the members who eschewed my credentials impiously presumed too much for themselves.

In the late 1960's, students at some universities in the United States held teach-ins because those students presumed that a professor was not necessary for knowledge to be learned. I have run into (usually young) people who declared to me that they are self-educated, as if this were equivalent to a college education. Even students getting a doctorate entirely online (one of whom didn't know what a thesis statement is!) tend to believe that they are getting a doctorate without even having to go to seminars. 

A similar issue concerns nurse practitioners who are becoming interchangeable with physicians at some medical clinics. Such nurses who specialize in psychiatry represent themselves as psychiatrists, while counselors over-reach onto doing therapy with impunity. Although saving costs has no doubt been driving this trend, I have been stunned to hear more than one nurse tell me that the training of a nurse practioner is the same as a physician’s own. Once I made a check-up appointment with a physician only to find myself with the nurse-practitioner, who of course insisted that she had had the same training. In general terms, dismissing credentials--typically those that the person does not have--can be viewed as the democratization of a vocation. This is, I submit, a case of decadence particularly severe in American society. 

In the film, that Victor gets away with having no credentials in either religion or psychology is stunning; this implies that he arrogantly assumes that he does not need the requisite education and training. Furthermore, it shows how much an ideology can stretch religion beyond its domain, such that therapy can legitimately be done without education and training in psychology. A disrespect of the encroached-upon domains goes with the over-reach. This could have been made explicit in the film.

Although Nancy objects to Victor's lack of credentials, she does not call him out on having encroached on another domain. "Being a biblical Christian does not enable you to do therapy," she could have said as she is shouting at him in the parking lot (and she is not the first to do so). Viewers could have received the idea that religion may have the proclivity to encroach excessively onto other domains, even without the need to undergo entrance exams at the borders.

Fortunately, the viewers do get to learn about and even assess the therapy program from seeing it from the perspective of the boys and girls in it. To be sure, more could be grasped with access to Victor and his staff away from the kids! Why does the staffer become so aggressive toward Jared when he grabs his phone in the office? Does Victor and his staff realize on some level that they are mistreating the kids, as when Victor invites one boy's family to spank the boy with a bible to rid him of the demon? That boy goes on to commit suicide. 

Nevertheless, some viewers may pick up on the fallacious logic that claims that because a person is not born a physician, it must therefore be a choice to become one. That is, Victor conflates vocations with instinctual urges. A participant objecting would mean that more viewers would grasp the fallaciousness of the argument. Also, as Victor accuses Jared of lying about having stayed over at a friend’s house without doing more than holding hands in bed, Jared could be made to say something like, “Hey, you didn’t believe me when I told you I’m not angry at my dad, and now you want me to lie about what I’ve done. I bet you’ve never studied psychology! You’re a fraud!” If saying this is unrealistic because Jared fears being sent to one of the facility's bunk houses for a year, the lines could come from another boy. 

In short, I’m suggesting that film is better as a medium when it is written like a music composition of more than a few levels that the mere dramatic can provide. In terms of homosexuality, more of a theological basis could have been in the script. Is being gay a sin? Is it caused by a demon inside the gay person? What is the religious basis for the claim that homosexuality is a choice? Quoting the relevant Old Testament passages as well as Paul would have brought this perspective out at a deeper level than is in the film and helped to distinguish this basis from a basis in psychology. This does not mean that the latter has necessarily viewed homosexuality in positive terms. The APA considered homosexuality to be a mental illness until 1973. Interestingly, Victor pushes the religious (demon) explanation rather than the mental-illness angle even though he is claiming to do therapy. 

The relationship between religion and psychology is difficult to discern, in large part because of how different the two underlying paradigms are. Pointing to a demon as a cause is much different than pointing to a medical cause. Relating the two seems almost impossible, yet this was not always the case. The ancient Hebrews, for instance, regarded the medically ill as sinful. Sin involves the absence of God. To Aquinas and Leibniz, this meant something less than from full being. It makes no sense to say that a person with a mental illness has a deficiency of being. Whether mental illness results in an absence of, rather than relationship with God is a difficult question. In his text, People of the Lie, M. Scott Peck theorizes that malignant narcissism is actually a defense mechanism surrounding a sense of emptiness inside. Such emptiness might resonate with a feeling of being apart from God. Does evil lie in the felt-emptiness inside or in the narcissistic attitude and conduct? Felt-emptiness inside is not necessarily the same thing of the lack of being that Aquinas and Leibniz associated with sin. Relating two very different paradigms, including basic assumptions and tenets, is fraught with difficulty even if the two overlap a bit. 

Unfortunately, the film does not go much into theology, including on whether homosexuality should be taken as a sin (and as distinct to a mental illness). Instead, homosexuality is likened to, or categorized with) alcoholism, violence in the home, and mental illnesses. Looking at the Biblical text itself, homosexuality is a sin. However, some Christians argue that the biblical claim is culturally and time-specific, meaning that the view of homosexuality in Israel millentia ago is reflected in the text. But does it even make sense to invalidate something that is part of Scripture? I submit that good arguments exist on both sides. Unfortunately, the film does not make this tension explicit. When Jared's father has two other ministers come over to discuss Jared, a discussion involving Nancy could have delved into the theological level. Nancy's first misgivings would be evident so her confrontation with Victor in the church parking-lot would be more believable.

The film does best with the dramatic levels centered on Jared’s inner struggles and that which exists between him and his father. The ending of the film is on those two trying to reconcile; that Jared would remain gay is almost treated as an aside. Nancy’s turnabout in coming to the aid of her son after he calls for her to pick him up is also salient toward the end of the film, but another opportunity to go deeper is missed because she does not tell Jared (and the viewer) what she found so objectionable about the therapy. Was it just Victor’s lack of credentials, or the basic assumption of gays being able to rid themselves of the instinctual urges?

The medium of film, even with its confining duration of a few hours, can go beyond the emotional levels of the dramatic or comedic to evince ideational tensions and even the underlying assumptions tussling for supremacy. Just as an antagonist tries to conquer a protagonist, ideas and principles, whether philosophical or theological, jest with each other. In fact, Nietzsche claims that an instinctual urge is the content of an idea. Ideas tussle for supremacy in the unconscious; the idea that comes to the conscious surface is the most powerful. Film can reflect this multi-level structure even to the point of including less powerful ideas that the viewers are not aware of, yet are influenced by. This should not be used, however, to shirk the ideational level of a film, especially when the story contains a salient controversial theme or aspect.  

The Second Best Exotic Marigold Hotel

Sequel to The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel (2011), The Second Best Exotic Marigold Hotel (2015) centers most of the dramatic tension on the hotel’s manager, Sonny Kapoor. In the first film, the tension is more evened out among the hotel customers and Sonny’s bid to make the run-down hotel a viable operation. The hurdles faced by the retirees in the first film are more gritty, or realistic, than are the challenges in the sequel. Indeed, the second film can come across to the viewer as excessively glitzy, especially at the end when the customers, Sonny, and his family and friends are on a dance floor positioned as if performing for an audience sitting out in front. It is unlikely, for instance, that Sonny could dance so well, particularly as he delayed practice to the disappointment of his fiancé, Sunaina. That film becomes a performance, and this can stretch a viewer’s suspension of disbelief because the screenwriter of both films, Ol Parker, stretches the characters too far beyond themselves. That they, along with Sunny and his wife and their families and friends go into a performance mode can remind the viewer that he or she is watching a performance—that the movie itself is a performance. So much for the suspension of disbelief, a psychological wonder that allows the human mind to forget that it is watching a movie and thus be able to “enter” the story-world.

The problems faced by the hotel customers in the first film included locating a lover of long ago without any remaining prospects of a life together (Graham Dashwood), getting a job (Evelyn Greenslade), being in a bad marriage (Douglas and Jean Ainslie), getting a hip replacement (Muriel Donnelly), and staving off boredom (Norman Cousins). Sonny Kapoor struggles with making the rundown hotel work. These “ordinary life” problems contrast with most (but not all) of the problems that the characters face in the sequel.

The second film centers on Sonny’s quest to engage an American corporate partner to put up funds to buy a second hotel (even as Sonny’s real engagement with Sunaina suffers). In fact, the film begins with Sonny, accompanied by Muriel Donnelly, in southern California to visit a prospective partner in a sleek corporate office. It is as if Sonny had made the first hotel into a smooth-functioning operation. Guy Chambers, a hotel inspector played by Richard Gere, squashes any such illusion fancied by Sonny. In fact, adding Gere, who often played smooth romantic leads, makes the film too star-studded, or glitzy rather than realistic. Gere looks utterly out of place at the hotel; that Sonny treats him like royalty does not help matters. At any rate, Sonny secures Guy’s support not just for another rundown hotel, but, rather, for the highbrow Viceroy’s Club. The purchase is completed incredibly fast, such that it is done in time for Sonny’s and Sunaina’s wedding reception—nevermind that the engagement had been rocky, especially as Sonny turned his attention to pleasing Guy so to gain his financial recommendation so the corporation would agree to become partners. Also at the glittery (and staged) reception, Evelyn’s hesitancy in dating Douglas evaporates as he delivers a (staged) speech. The problem with Douglas’ divorce is apparently solved. Norman Cousins and Carol Parr talk about Carol’s having cheated on Norman, so they are fine. Any hint of ordinary is gone as the customers (except for Muriel, whose sadness in facing death is the outlier) join pretty-boy Guy and the united families (and friends) of Sonny and Sunaina are suddenly performing a dance number positioned as if they were on a theater stage.

Because the dramatic tension in the first film is based on hardship, the tensions in the second film involving the same characters may not feel real in the sense of being contained within suspended disbelief. Graham Dashwood’s arduous attempts to get information from local government bureaucrats and the man struggling with his ailing heart as he plays cricket with some local boys are far indeed from the Sonny’s over-the-top efforts to please Guy Chambers. Given Sonny’s immaturity, it is astonishing that he is right that Guy is a hotel inspector (though Sonny does not realize that the ill-treated hotel customer, Jodi, is also a hotel inspector).

In short, the sequel loses touch with its basis, the characters and their worlds in the first movie. This is particularly odd because Ol Parker wrote both screenplays! I submit that the sequel may even be a different genre than the first. The sequel ends as if it were Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again (2018), another sequel about a small hotel. With singing in nearly every scene, the performances are not an over-stretch. The movie is not meant to be realistic. 

Fortunately, Mamma Mia! (2008), the film that that sequel follows, has the same format, so that the sequel is not realistic is not a problem. In fact, this demonstrates that the screenwriter of the sequel, who happens to be Ol Parker (the same screenwriter of the Marigold Hotel movies), was capable of carrying forward a story without stretching it too far. In fact, Parker did not write Mamma Mia! So his faithfulness to that movie in writing the sequel is all the more impressive, and this leaves the question of his lack of fidelity in writing The Second Best Exotic Hotel even more perplexing because he knew how to extend a story without stretching it too far.

By the way, both sequels have what may be Parker’s signature point: pure happiness without some sadness is not possible in life, so a film that is too saccharine can buck the suspension of disbelief. In Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again, some sadness is present because Donna has died and she is missed. The film even includes Donna’s ghost, as if to drive home the point that even the happiness of a wedding contains some sadness. In The Second Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, Muriel Donnally knows she will die soon; this can be inferred from her reaction coming out of the examination room at a clinic. Maggie Smith marvelously underplays Donnally’s reaction, which actually adds to its significance. In acting, sometimes less is more. Donnally returns to her room during the wedding reception, presumably for medical reasons and also to write Sonny a letter because she is leaving early the next morning to return home to Britain presumably because she knows she is dying. Again, Parker inserts sadness in a wedding scenario. I contend that this is no accident; he is making a statement. Unfortunately, the performance mode at the wedding reception can undercut the suspension of disbelief concerning Donnally’s dramatic plight. If the other hotel customers are really performers, then so too is Maggie Smith.

In conclusion, screenwriting a sequel best includes both a lot of study of the original firm and the willingness be constrained so as to retain a mooring. Of course, a screenwriter and director may prefer to have a free hand in putting together a sequel, but the cost may be glitches in the suspension of disbelief, by which a viewer becomes engrossed in a story-world rather than being conscious of watching a movie. 

Downton Abbey

Taking a story from a television series to a movie can present hurdles for screenwriters and directors, especially if they do not fully appreciate the qualitative differences between a movie and a television series. To be sure, well-crafted series such as Downton Abbey, The Crown, Game of Thrones, and House of Cards had narrowed the difference in terms of quality. Even so, a narrative limited to around two hours of play time is different than a narrative meant to be on-going. The financial resources are also more concentrated in the making of a film than an ongoing series (even if it ends after five or six years). I submit, therefore, that Julian Fellowes, the producer and screenwriter of both the Downton series and movie, erred in hiring a director of the series, Michael Engler, to direct the movie. Just because he had directed (just) four episodes of the series does not mean that he knew how to direct a movie. A seasoned movie director would have been a better choice.

That Fellowes did not replace a television director with a movie director is especially glaring given the salience of replacing a less-experienced or "lower" person (or entire staff!) with a more seasoned or "higher" one in the film's narrative. Robert Crawley, the Earl of Grantham, replaces Thomas Barrow, who just a year or so earlier had been promoted butler, with Mr. Carson, the retired seasoned butler, during the royal visit. Moreover, the palace replaces Downton servants with royal servants for the visit. Both moves make sense. 

Firstly, a house’s own cook (or aristocrat) could poison the king. Because one assassination attempt is highlighted in the movie, I’m not sure why Fellowes did not write the rationale into the script. Given that he did not, I’m not sure why he (and the director) did not give Mrs. Patmore, the Downton cook, more of a fit as she confronts a royal cook taking over the Downton kitchen.

Secondly, as the Downton staff is star-struck by the presence of the king and queen, and mistakes or gaffes are more likely if nerves are fraught. Mr. Molesley, for instance, is so nervous that he loses control of himself while serving the dinner table. The close proximity of the king and queen makes that situation so different from the usual that Molesley blurts out a secret and, when he realizes this, he curtsies to the royal couple.

Replacements, therefore, are salient in the film. Why, then, didn’t Julian Fellowes replace a television-series director (of Sex in the City, Six Feet Under, and 30 Rock) with a director having experience directing movies? Fellowes may have been impressed with Engler’s direction of four episodes of Downton Abbey, but being a good television director does not translate into being a seasoned movie director. To the extent that television is common and the movie genre as aristocratic (e.g., The Academy of Motion Pictures and its gold Oscar awards), Fellowes failed to grasp the upside in his replacement-motif in his screenplay. 

Julian Fellowes had written and acted in several films and television series. In fact, he received an Oscar for screenwriting on Gosford Park (2005). As he was no doubt knowledgeable in how writing for a series differs from screenwriting, I was surprised to find the dialogue pattern less extended in the film. As noted above, Mrs. Patmore’s rants are notably missing, especially with her kitchen being taken over by a foreigner. So too is Thomas Barrow’s scheming, which could be expected to make a brief return to protest the Earl of Grantham bringing back Mr. Carson as butler during the visit (only for Mr. Wilson of the palace to replace him!). Even given Carson’s penchant for hierarchy, it is too easy for Wilson—also a servant!—to take Carson down.

Gone too is the sibling rivalry between Lady Edith and Lady Mary—perhaps though because Mary respects her younger sister now that she is of a higher aristocratic rank. Character development and changed relationships since the series left off are good for the overall narrative, including that of the movie. This does not apply, however, to the truncated exchanges between the Dowager Countess (Violet Crowley) and Isobel Merton (mother of Lady Mary’s first husband). Indeed, the platitudes coming out of Violet’s mouth were fewer, less good, and even stilted. One platitude was even about saying platitudes! Had the two reached a meta-level?  I expected better platitudes in the movie than in the series. Moreover, Violet’s vitriol toward her cousin, who is refusing to make the Earl of Grantham her heir, seems muted. Maggie Smith could have shined. Also, Fellowes could have had the Earl of Grantham overhear his mother, the Dowager Countess, telling Lady Mary of the bad medical news, especially given that Violet tells her granddaughter that the fate of Downton Abbey is in her hands, rather than those of her father, Violet’s son, who presumably has done a lackluster job. A similar scenario wherein Robert is astonished at his mother is in the television series at several points.

In the movie, Robert Crowley, the earl, as well as his wife Cora have noticeably few lines and nothing dramatic. A good example is the truncated exchange in which Robert admits he is excited about the royal visit even if saying as much sounds common. His wife Cora, an American, replies that he can get away with making such a common statement to an American. None of the tension between Robert and Cora regarding her being an American exists, unlike in the series and yet nothing accounts for any resolution having occurred. The dialogue between the two is so short it comes off as stilted. You say something, then it’s my turn, rather than a conversation.

In short, the movie comes across as less well made than the series. Fellowes’ decision to use a television director and perhaps not enough work on the script itself were, I submit, problematic especially given that a movie rather than a television series was being made. It is as if someone took the air out of sails in the making of the movie. I expected better writing, especially given that Julian Fellowes had received an Oscar for screenwriting. I have sung in several choirs. I’ve been amazed at how different the actual concerts are from even the dress rehearsals, which are often better. The conductor, singers, and crew are typically so nervous during the concerts that everything seems rushed, and thus must impact the quality of the singing. I know I’ve taken fewer risks during concerts, and my air-flow is more restricted. I don’t “belt it out,” and am consequently less satisfied after a concert. The Downton crew, including the producer, director, screenwriter, and actors, must surely have been excited to make Downton into a movie, even though the screenwriter and many of the actors had worked in movies rather than merely television. In this case, the movie-making was compromised even relative to the television series.

The Challenger Disaster

Roger Boisjoly was a booster rocket engineer at a NASA contractor, Morton Thiokol. Boisjoly blew the whistle both within the company and to NASA regarding the danger of the rubber in the o-rings, which seal the connections in the shuttle’s rockets, being insufficiently elastic in cold weather. Although The Challenger Disaster (2019) is not a documentary, the film’s narrative, which centers on Roger, or "Adam," is oriented to understanding why the Challenger space shuttle exploded after being launched on January 28, 1986. In other words, although some names are different and the conversations are not verbatim in the film, the factors that contributed to the actual explosion are presented. In fact, the film leans too much on technical details before the disaster and legal arguments afterwards without adequate entertaining elements to make the film enjoyable. However, the film's political function in informing a mass market of why part of the government-business system was broken is valuable. In fact, this mission demonstrates that the medium of motion pictures is capable of aiding in social, political, economic, and religious awareness and education, and thus development.

Although some individuals can rightly be blamed for the explosion, the problem extended to the relationship that NASA had with its contractors, the encroachment, based solely on power, of management both at NASA and Mortan Thiokol, over experts (i.e., the engineers) on a technical problem requiring expertise, and the internal culture at Mortan Thiokol. In general terms, the problem extended to business-government relations, managerial presumption, and the expedient profit motive in business. 

On the individual level, immaturity played a substantial role in the disaster. Throughout most of the film, Adam, the outspoken advocate of delaying the launch, is yelling either at his superiors at Mortan Thiokol or at the launch engineer at NASA. Adam’s harsh demeanor, a lawyer points out, partly explains why Adam’s warnings did not have sufficient traction especially within the company. In spite of being right about the explosion, Adam has very little credibility inside the company because of his immaturity. In other words, he does not play well with the other children and this impedes his technical credibility. Human nature being what it is, it is susceptible to the fallacy that immaturity undercuts technical expertise. To be sure, Adam was not the only problem-child at the company. Its in-house inspector, Frank, perpetually shouts at Adam from the time he warns that the shuttle could explode. At one point, Frank even lunges violently at Adam. Similarly, NASA's flight engineer's harsh tone and shouting on the conference call with Mortan Thiokol exacerbated the problem. Why so much anger? It clearly impedes a solution whereby nine astronauts would not have died. 

All the shouting also makes the film difficult to endure. The bland office settings also do nothing to make the film enticing to watch. Almost all of the scenes are set in drab offices and a conference room in which grey is the basic color. To the extent that the arguments over technical details, which dominate the film, and legal arguments are boring, they are not adequately countered by entertaining devices. For example, scant attention is given to Adam's family life, other than to show him strangely well-adapted as a family man. His pathology apparently only shows up at work. His wife is a cut-board figure of an adoring wife, which is also strange. In short, the film’s value to American society in explaining to a mass audience what went wrong both at NASA and it having private-sector contractors could have been greater were the film more entertaining. 

This is not to say that the extent of arguing, like that of the technical details and even the drabness do not contribute to the film's ability to explain why the disaster occurred. The incessant arguments give the audience a good dose of the role of pathology in the disaster. Also, the extent of technical details, even repeated throughout the film, help the audience to understand why the o-rings failed. Even the drabness of the offices give the viewers a sense of the company's finances, which in turn play a major role in why the company's managers overrule the engineers on economic grounds (over technical objections). 

As for the technical explanation of the disaster, the expected temperature on the Cape at launch the next morning was 30 degrees F. The shuttle’s o-rings, which the contractor put into the rockets to seal connection points, were made out of rubber, which is less elastic, and thus effective, as the temperature decreases. The company’s data, however, only went down to 53 degrees, the previous lowest temperature on a launch. Also, the lower the temperature, the more exhaust passes by the o-rings, causing erosion. This is enough for Adam, who repeatedly says, “It’s too cold to launch!” He put his findings in a memo, but not even the company’s inspection person, Frank, bothered to read it. “The shuttle is made up of millions of parts,” Frank shouts at Adam, adding “The o-ring is just one of them.”  Adam shouts back, “Cold rubber doesn’t work well!” Notably, Frank does not spend as much time reminding Adam that the company needs the contract as reminding Adam and the others that they need their jobs. So much for loyalty to the company; what really counts is the employees’ personal affairs.

Frank takes the matter to his boss, Kurt. He wants a launch-delay because time is needed to get boats out to retrieve the rockets when they fall into the ocean. Adam argues that the company’s recommendation to NASA should turn on an engineering reason rather than a company-specific economic one. In essentially dismissing the consensus of the engineers regarding the technical problems, Kurt, a manager, disagrees. “We might lose our rockets. Besides, the DOD pays NASA’s bills. If they don’t get what they paid for, DOD and NASA might replace us. It is an economic problem.” Relative to this problem, a higher manager will later say before giving NASA the go-ahead on the launch, the safety of the astronauts “is not our concern” even though the astronauts have been relying on NASA and the contractors.

In the film, the company’s organizational culture is highly dysfunctional. The company’s upper management is focused only on keeping its contract with NASA even though the result is far worse for the company. The management has allowed the company to become too financially dependent on NASA. As a result, the upper management lied to NASA, telling the flight engineer that the company would be fine with the launch as set. Faced with an enquiry by the presidential commission on the disaster, the company’s management claims that Adam was a malcontent employee wanting to cause trouble. The extent of lying is itself a red flag concerning the lack of business ethics in the company’s management.

The relationship between NASA and the contract is also a contributing cause of the disaster. This is evident from the conference call that includes NASA and the contractor the day before the launch. NASA’s flight engineer, who is openly hostile toward the contractor from the start, begins by pointing out that the contractor (Frank in particular) is at fault for having taking the temperature problem off the reports submitted to NASA.  The company is so dependent on its rocket contract with NASA that the employee tasked with keeping NASA informed has removed a potentially dangerous problem from NASA’s radar screen.

The lack of communication is compounded by the adversarial relationship. On the call, for instance, Adam and the flight engineer at NASA reach the point of shouting at each other. The engineer orders Adam to “quantify.” Adam replies, ”I can’t.” In public policy as in business, not everything can be given a number. Sometimes when one is given, it brings with it false accuracy. With data only going down to 53 degrees, Adam cannot put a number on the percentage risk. Furthermore, how high of a percentage risk that the o-rings will fail on launch at 30 degrees could the flight engineer accept? The flight engineer wants a number to protect himself. Just as the managers at the contractor don’t want to lose their jobs, neither does the flight engineer. Meanwhile, no one is looking out for the human beings who will blast off the next day.

 NASA cannot go against the contractor’s recommendation to stop the launch. The flight engineer knows this, so he puts pressure on the contractor’s managers, who capitulate because the company cannot lose the contract. In bending NASA’s policy by pushing for a reversal from the contractor—and by the company’s management overruling the engineers on an engineering problem—the flight engineer is reckless (even as he tries to protect himself by demanding quantification).

In response, the contractor’s managers huddle. “NASA might find another contractor if we recommend delaying launch,” one manager says. “NASA might lay off people.  15,000 jobs here are on the line; we need this contract.” The manager then says to the entire group, “We need to make a management decision.” One of the engineers then shouts, “We cannot guarantee a good seal!” The manager appeals to the personal financial interests of all the engineers in the room.  “Don’t you have a mortgage? Don’t you want your jobs?” Adam chimes in, “There are nine astronauts; their lives are in our hands. The manager coldly replies, “they know the risks; that’s not our concern.” This brings Adam to a rage, “How dare you play with human lives like that. . . . You won’t give these poor souls a chance so we can make a buck or two. . . . This is not a management decision.”  That manager ignores this point and tells NASA it’s a go.

The philosopher Kant’s ethical theory can be formulated in terms of treating other rational beings not just as means, but also as ends in themselves. The contractor’s managers treat the astronauts unethically because they are just a means to the company getting paid for its rockets. NASA’s flight engineer does the same thing.  NASA has already delayed the launch, and avoiding the embarrassment of delaying again, even by hours, is motivating the flight engineer at the expense of the astronauts. Both NASA and the contractor’s management have lost perspective with selfish, skewed priorities.

Milton's Secret

On the surface, Milton's Secret (2016) is a story about a financially-stressed family getting a visit from grandpa, who brings something unusual with him (besides his tea). Because Donald Sutherland really liked the character,  he agreed to play Grandpa Howard. Grandpa has a secret, which he shares with his grandson, Milton. It fundamentally changes not only him, but also his parents. Howard brings Zen Buddhism and alchemy to his family.  That the fictional (narrative) film explains and relates the two and renders both so transparent for the audience says something about the potential of the medium itself to handle abstractions and relate them to life.

The first hint that Grandpa Howard is a bit different comes just after he arrives and is eating out with Milton and his parents, Jane and Bill. After Howard takes out his tea packet and makes his own tea at the table in the restaurant, Milton asks how the tea tastes. “It tastes like tranquility; it tastes like calm,” Howard replies. What follows in the rest of the film is how to achieve tranquility and calm without the tea. In providing his recipe, Grandpa Howard essentially raises Milton out of his childhood. “When I was a man, I put away childish things.” It’s from Corinthians 13,” Howard says to Milton on his friend Timmy now going by Tim. The reference is to spiritual adulthood, which in any religion is distinct from what most practitioners believe and practice. The Gnostics in ancient Egypt, some of whom were Christian, emphasized esoteric knowledge (i.e., knowledge that is known, or can be known, only to a few).  The film is most significant because it makes such knowledge transparent for a mass audience rather than just a few people. Indeed, for a film to concentrate on a higher level of understanding is itself significant.

In real life, people not willing to accept or able to comprehend esoteric knowledge tend to resist it and even treat it’s holders with passive or even active aggression. In the film, Bill is the skeptic. “You have to be skeptical of your skepticism,” Howard relies to Milton on Bill’s skepticism of Howard’s lifestyle.  It is not uncommon for skeptics of knowledge they themselves do not have to go after superficial differences, out of a deeper resentment. In fact, being oriented to superficialities or trifles is itself an obstacle to giving up childish things.

Howard’s esoteric knowledge begins as Milton is suffering from being bullied at school. His parents are also focused not on their son, but on their momentary financial hardship. What Howard says to Milton applies equally to his parents.  Your thoughts on your problem: “They are houseguests and they all go eventually.” Sitting outside with Grandpa Howard, Milton asks, “Why is my cat always happy, no wonder what?” Howard replies in a way that tells us the source of his knowledge.  “I have lived with many Zen masters. Each and every one of them was a cat. Contrary to humankind, cats can let go of whatever happened yesterday and don’t worry about tomorrow and next week; they’re just here. . . . I’m not in the future now, or in the past; I’m here in the present with you.” This is essentially the Buddhist notion of mindfulness.

The Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh, who was banished from his native Vietnam for more than five decades, has been typically mentioned along with the Dalai Lama as “one of the two most influential Buddhist monks of the modern era.”[1] Hanh is particularly noted for having spread the concept of mindfulness around the world. Mindfulness is “a mental state achieved by focusing . . . awareness on the present moment.”[2] Through practice, people can “overcome their anger and negative emotions.”[3] When a person’s attention is entirely in the present, anger about the past and worrying about the future are eclipsed.

Practically speaking, being focused on the moment means less chance of getting distracted and having an accident. Interestingly, not having forgiven oneself for having hurt other people can also be a distraction that keeps one in the past rather than in the tranquility of the moment. Howard answers Milton on having had to kill people in war: “Taking a life, Milton, causing hurt to someone, steals a piece of you and then you have to try to find a way to forgive yourself for it. But you have to try because without forgiveness, the past determines who you are in the present.” It is not uncommon to find adults who grew up in abusive dysfunctional families to be caught up in the past out of resentment, which in the absence of apologies can be difficult to shed, when self-forgiveness instead may hold the key to being in the moment and finally losing the past.

In Buddhist thought, the self is not an entity. Hence a person can be thought of as whatever the person puts into himself or herself. Howard gives Milton an empty beaker as a birthday present.  At parent’s night, Milton speaks on the War Between the States.  “It’s the war we’re all in, Milton says. We argue so much, and hold grudges. “There was a civil war raging right inside of me. Then my grandfather came to visit and he told me how to end the war,” using a beaker. “Imagine that you are a beaker. Whatever you decide to put in it, that’s who you are. If you fill it with hate and fear, pour in your worries about past and future, you’re probably going to be miserable.” If you fill your beaker “with love and caring, miracles can happen. That’s the secret. We all can change. You just have to turn the empty space into gold. When you do that, the war is over. We are all alchemists.” Howard tells Milton afterward:  You had a beaker filled “with anger and fear, but then you added beauty and you added a little bit of mischief. That, my dear, Milton, is alchemy.” If the self itself is not an entity, then what we refer to as a person is whatever that person has put into “the beaker,” which in itself is empty as well as transparent. Referring back to Milton’s talk, moreover, Howard tells his young grandson that he can again let his heart make sense of what his mind couldn’t figure out. “No matter where you are, no matter who you’re with, you hold the secret.”

---

1. Richard C. Paddock, “After Half a Century, ‘An Apostle of Peace’ Goes Home to Vietnam,” The New York Times, May 17, 2019.

2. Ibid.

3. Ibid.

Inside Job

Documentaries can admittedly be rather boring, particularly if technical details comprise most of the content. This applies also to a film of historical fiction based on true events, such as The Challenger Disaster (2019), which focuses so much on technical details (albeit set in arguments) that the narrative itself may not be strong enough to hold an audience's attention or interest. In contrast, the documentary, Inside Job (2010), provides such alluring "inside the beltway" (i.e., known only to U.S. Government insiders and their outside partners) information that the details themselves can capture and hold interest.  

The full essay is at "President Obama and Goldman Sachs."

Mary Poppins Returns

Films are commonly known to have two or three dimensions in terms of perspective. Animated films were for decades in the twentieth century in two dimensions—a flat story-world—until the advent of animated films made to show depth, hence three dimensions. Still another, third or fourth respectively, dimension is the element of time in the story-world. Literally, as the still frames are moved one to the next, changes can be perceived in the story-world; you won’t see any change by looking at a frame. Then we get to the dimensions that extend outside of the story-world. One possible dimension is how the narrative or the story-world in a film relates to the book upon which the particular film is based. This dimension becomes visible in terms of meaning particularly when similarities exist, but differences too can prompt attention the dimension itself. In this essay, I discuss another dimension that involves the content in a film but extends out into the world of the audience. When made manifest, this dimension can carry significant meaning for the audience, for this dimension involves both a society’s “social reality” and what is shown in a film.

Mary Poppins Returns (2018) hit the screens 44 years after Mary Poppins (1964). In that span of time, a lot can change societally, and this includes the inevitable loss of seasoned actors. An actor in his or her prime in 1964 may not have been alive in 2018. David Tominson, who had played George Banks in Mary Poppins, died in 2000. When Mary Poppins Returns was filmed, Julie Andrews, Glynis Jones, and Dick Van Dyke were all alive, but aged. Glynis Jones and Dick Van Dyke were in their 90’s. While Andrews could not have played Mary Poppins again, as the good witch stays perpetually young, she could have played the flower woman, who is played by Angela Lansbury. Whereas Andrews was in her early 80’s during filming, Lansbury was about a decade older. Unknown health issues, however, may have played their own role.

 

Dick Van Dyke as Mr. Dawes, Sr.

Dick Van Dyke as Bert

Dick Van Dyke as Mr. Dawes, Jr.

Dick Van Dyke is where the “actor” dimension really kicks in. He played both Bert, the chimney sweeper, and Mr. Dawes, Sr., the head of the bank, in Mary Poppins, and played Mr. Dawes, Jr., head of the bank, in Mary Poppins Returns. Van Dyke plays both Dawes when those characters are very old, though only in the case of Dawes, Jr. is Van Dyke himself old (early 90’s). That the actor was that old and could still dance (although a stunt-double probably made the run up on the desk) was astonishing in itself, which in turn could be sufficient to get the attention of audiences on the actor. Besides that he is in two films made 44 years apart, the nonagenarian is dancing in both! What tremendous bookends for a wonderful career. Moreover, this perspective can link together such different periods in society (or such different societies) and in one’s own life for the audience members who were old enough to remember the first film in the 1960’s and 1970’s. 

Mr. Dawes, Jr.(left) and Sr. (right), played by Dick Van Dyke. He was 92 and 38 during the respective filming.

Dawes senior and junior look so much alike that it is as if age finally allowed Van Dyke to play the same character, albeit in much heavier “aging” make-up the first time. Obviously, a character who is very old in the first movie cannot be alive in a story in which George Banks’ son and daughter are grown adults, the son with three kids. The senior/junior thing makes this correction, though this point was lost on me while watching the second film. To me, an actor who was young in the 1960’s could be fit age-wise to play virtually the very same old character 44 years later. In the field of acting, this is significant, especially given the dancing.

The dimension itself is the link between the two Dawes characters and the actor, Dick Van Dyke. His story, in other words, becomes salient so his acting out Dawes Jr. in Mary Poppins Returns goes beyond the film itself, including its narrative and story-world, to the world lived out by the audience. For people who had been aware of Van Dyke’s career, the point at which the actor could, as an old man himself, still act and dance in his nineties, and, relatedly, be age-fitting to the character can hold great meaning beyond that in the narrative concerning that character.

Interestingly, the serious message that Dawes Jr. gives the Banks family is delivered as if it were the main point of the film. Namely, if a person is prudent, such as in deciding when very young to deposit even just some coins rather than spend them, the person will be rewarded greatly decades later. In the story, this is a lesson not only for Michael and Jane Banks, but also Michael’s three kids. Such a down-to-earth leitmotif is at odds with all the flying in the air and, moreover, the alternative “thesis” contender: that even the impossible can be possible as evinced by Mary Poppins’ magic. For the magic of compounding interest wherein money seems to grow is not magic at all, but, rather, a manifestation of the time-value of money: that a coin today is worth more than one tomorrow because you can only spend the former today.

A Star Is Born

The film, A Star Is Born (2018), has the narrative structure chiefly of two intersecting character arcs. They are multi-level in the sense that both interior emotional states and exterior vocational popularity change for both Jackson and Ally. Each of them must deal with feelings of insecurity at some point and both are singers. The antagonist is interesting as well, as it is a character that plays a small but decisive role in how the narrative ends.

The film begins with Jackson as a popular, albeit drunken singer. He spots Ally both for her singing ability and in terms of romantic interest. He is very self-confident as he pursues her, whereas she feels insecure as a singer and song-writer and is shy with Jackson romantically. He is successful, whereas she is an unknown singing in a drag club. He provides her with an entry to become a star by coaxing her to sing a duet with him in one of his concerts. The experience leaves her with more confidence both in regard to singing publically and reciprocating romantically. Her arc is in motion.

Meanwhile, Jackson’s arc is in decline in that his drinking and drug-use are getting worse, as is his relationship with his older brother and manager, Bobby, who quits working as Jackson’s “errand boy” after Jackson hits him because he had windmills put on their deceased father’s land in Arizona. As the film shifts to Ally’s singing, the attention to Jackson’s diminishes. When Jackson drunkenly follows Ally on stage at the Grammys as she accepts the award for Best New Singer, the difference in the trajectories of the two character arcs could not be more explicit. She has gained interest into the singing elite, whereas he has reached bottom in his alcoholism and drug-addiction. Her lack of confidence is gone not only in singing, but, interestingly, also in terms of her relationship with Jackson. Even as he is falling on the stage, she claims him as her man. His self-confidence is gone. He goes off for two months of rehab, during which he is not sure that Ally would have him back (she assures him he can come home). Back at home, no hint of his ongoing singing career is given; in contrast, her concert venue is very large. He is emotionally vulnerable; she is now running the relationship. The two character arcs have crossed each other both in terms of vocational success and emotional security. Just in terms of the transfer in whose music is foremost, even financially, the intersection can be understood as being difficult for the relationship. The shift in power, both from the shift in singing success and in emotional security, certainly puts pressure on the couple. 

As for how the narrative ends, it is important to bring in the matter of the antagonist. To claim that the alcoholism and drug-addiction were both antagonists is to conflate antagonist with obstacle. Certainly an antagonist presents obstacles for a protagonist, but the character to character relation is lost if an antagonist can be generalized to impersonal obstacles even in the story-world itself, as is, “The fire is the antagonist.” In this film, Rez, Ally’s manager, is the clever antagonist. Knowing that Ally wants to take the post-rehab Jackson along in her upcoming European tour, Rez speaks to Jackson without Ally knowing. Rez plays on Jackson’s insecurity by blaming Jackson for having almost derailed Ally’s singing career. Rez also tells the alcoholic that he would relapse, and when he does, he would sink Ally’s career so he should be nowhere near her, especially on her tour. During Rehab, Jackson has expressed to Ally his sorrow for having gotten in the way of her acceptance speech at the Grammy’s, so it follows that he would take his own life rather than risk hurting her career, as she loves him so much. In putting this guilt-trip on a vulnerable Jackson, Rez is the film’s antagonist. He is a sly one, as neither Bobby nor Ally can know who (and what) triggered Jackson. Ally presumably continues with Rez, not knowing what he has done to her late husband. In the end, the film can perhaps be said to be about the limits of justice in the human condition. In other words, sometimes the bad guys get away with it.

Dorian Gray

The Picture of Dorian Gray, a Gothic and philosophical novel written by Oscar Wilde, was first published in 1890. The first motion picture, taking the same title, came out in 1945. Relative to The Secret of Dorian Gray (1970), the initial adaptation of the book can seem quite restrained, or Victorian, even though the novel had been controversial in its day. The 1970 film is awash in the sexual revolution, and is thus also affected by its times. The next film adaptation, Dorian Gray (2009), goes back to a classy nineteenth-century Dorian. The emphasis is on sexual immorality, albeit different than in the sexual revolution in the next century. The film largely departs from the plethora of religious symbolism and language in the 1945 film, though unlike in the 1970 film, a spiritual realm is not presumed to be an antiquated notion. Instead, the 2009 film substitutes supernaturalism for religion, especially in the climax.

Regarding the salient element of religion in The Picture of Dorian Gray (1945), the film goes back and forth between ancient paganism and Christianity. The tension between the two goes through the film. Basel remarks refer to the gods, which immediately disassociates the story world from the monotheistic religions. The gods, he says, give us good looks even though we suffer from them. Henry disagrees, quipping, “There is only one thing in the world worth having and that is youth.” Not yet realizing the power through the painting on aging, Basil vaguely intuits a transcendent aspect of the painting in remarking, “There’s something I can’t quite understand—something mystic about it.” As he is working on a sketch of the cat already pictured in the painting, he adds, “It seems as if a power outside of myself was guiding my hand. It’s as if the painting has a life of its own, independent of me.” Later in the film, Basil tells Dorian, “Perhaps you’ve seen the same mysterious quality in it. Have you noticed something curious in the painting? Something that at first did not strike you but that subsequently revealed itself suddenly?” Dorian replies, “I saw something curious about the painting. You’re right; there can be something fatal about a portrait.”

Because the transcendent lies beyond the limits of human cognition, perception, and feeling according to pseudo-Dionysius (St. Denis) and others in the Middle Ages, a portal itself can be expected to have a vague mysterious quality. In his text, The Idea of the Holy, Rudolf Otto ascribes mysterium to the holy. In antiquity, the term simply meant “unknown.” It is fitting that a way to transcendence would also have the air of the unknown.

Unless anyone misses the connection between the mystical quality and the cat in the film, Dorian is shown posing next to a statue of the cat. Between them, Dorian and Henry make the connection explicit. For the first time, Dorian is conscious of his youth, and that he would someday lose it “If it were that I would stay young and the picture would grow old,” he wishes. Henry cautions him, “You wouldn’t express your wish in the presence of that cat; it is one of the 73 great gods of Egypt and perfectly capable of granting your wish.” A relationship exists between Dorian and the cat through the medium of the painting. This is the transcendent axis that runs through the film. The statue of the cat is also involved, as Sybil remarks while she is at Dorian’s house, “It’s that cat; I thought I saw its eyes move.” Dorian replies, “Perhaps you did. . . . It is one of the 73 great gods of Egypt.” He then reads a passage to her: “Hideous cat . . . you make me what I would not be. You make my creed a barren sham. You wake foul dreams of sensual life.” This gives us an indication of how the transcendent relationship would affect Dorian. The reference to the creed suggests Christianity, which Dorian will abandon in favor of sensual pleasures.  “What a strange poem,” Sybil remarks, “Who wrote it?” Dorian answers, “Oscar Wilde.” Wilde himself cast aside Victorian moral norms and laws to pursue sexual pleasure wherever it would lead him. In contrast to Wilde’s pleasures, Dorian’s, such as sex and drugs, are deemphasized in this film, whereas his harm to other people, such as breaking Sybil’s heart and killing Basel, are highlighted especially in how they change the painting.

The pleasure obtained from harm is arguably worse morally than that which experienced sensuously, especially in ancient paganism wherein morality is not as tied to religion as in the Abrahamic faiths, which risk obfuscating morality and theology. Yet Christianity is again implied when Dorian states his wish: “More than a painting, it is part of myself. . . . If only the picture would change and I would stay the same. For that I would give everything. . . . I would give my soul for that.” To lose one’s soul is typically related to the devil, as in to the case of Faust, who makes a pact with the devil to regain youth. Dorian may be an incarnation of the Foust character, though in this film at least without the devil character. Henry brings us back to the basis in ancient Egyptian polytheism, saying of the gods’ perspective of humans: “They worship us and keep bothering us to do something for them.” Interestingly, Henry’s version of pleasure is sensual nonetheless. “Pleasure is nature’s sign of approval,” he states. “When we are good, we are not always happy.” Dorian is admittedly affected by Henry’s philosophy, though notice sensuous pleasure follows from hurting Sybil. After she flunks the test that Dorian had gotten from Henry (i.e., she stays at Dorian’s house), Dorian tells her, “Now you are nothing to me. Henceforth I shall live for pleasure. I’ve been living a life of illusion.” This illusion is that happiness can come from being faithful even though it involves resisting sexual temptations.  The picture changes in that “a touch of cruelty” can be seen in the mouth. The cruelty refers back to hurting Sybil rather than living for sensual pleasure. In other words, the painting shows Dorian’s bad conscience from harming other people. When Henry tells Dorian of Sybil’s suicide, Henry observes, “She killed herself for love.” Dorian reacts with, That’s not my fault! He has an air of indifference toward his bad conscience. Sensual pleasure is merely a byproduct; Dorian says, “I don’t want to be at the mercy of my emotions; I want to use them, enjoy them.” Again distancing the film from Abrahamic morality, Basil gives Dorian a book on the Buddha, which Dorian predictably dismisses—but he is not now turning against his creed, at least explicitly, and yet he is. He has a moralistic faith (i.e., Christianity) and yet the transcendent basis in this film is an ancient Egyptian god that presumably wants Dorian to keep the pact rather than behave morally.

The narrator then invokes Christianity implicitly as Dorian hides the painting. “He would have eternal youth while the portrait bore the burden of his shame. He was caught in an evil destiny.” That is, destroying the painting would break this destiny off by his death; he had said it is “a part of me.” As if recalling the worst sin according to Augustine, the narrator says, “Prideful individualism is a work of evil.” Here, selfishness is evil. Admittedly, both harm to others and unrestrained sensuous pleasure can be byproducts of the evil vice of selfishness. When Dorian shows Basil the painting, which is now in color, the narrator says, “It was as if some moral leprosy were eating the painting away.” Immorality is thus evil, presumably even when no one is getting hurt.

Even Basil’s view of the painting has changed from mysterious to monstrous, from a sense of a transcendent element to something supernatural. The starkness of the latter typically dwarfs any subtle mysteriousness that is also a quality of transcendence itself. In contrast, monstrous points to something in our realm. Looking at the painting, Basil declares, “This is monstrous, beyond nature, beyond reason.” Basil is conflating supernatural with the transcendent—a category mistake perhaps arising out of Deism—namely, that God not only set up nature’s laws but also intervenes outside of them. Is such intervention supernatural in that it is an alternative to the natural sciences? If so, the domains of science and religion blend so much that category mistakes can be made—one example being that Zeus is present when a storm has lightening. If the domain of religion is unique, and thus qualitatively different than science, then just because a phenomenon does not fit within known science does not mean that the phenomenon is religious in nature. In The Sixth Sense (1999) and The Others (2001), for example, the paranormal is not associated with anything religious.

The use of the supernatural (or paranormal) as a litmus test or even as proof that a spiritual realm really exists involves a category mistake; rather than being the standard, the basis ought to be tossed out; the transcendent is wholly other and is thus not within our cognitive or perceptual grasp. Even trying to grasp revelation is like looking through a smoke-stained dark window, according to Augustine. Hence belief rather than knowledge is as far as we can go in trying to cognitively penetrate anything transcendent. Hence we yearn for transcendence, as in striving for communion with God. Whereas the transcending experience of yearning can be known in as much as it is in our realm, attributes of the divine object, which lies beyond our reach (i.e., is transcendent) can only be believed through faith. Even our collective imagination, which has come to inexorably fit the validity of religion through the gates of supernaturalism, draws on stuff in our realm rather than anything beyond the limits of cognition, perception, and sensibility.

Nevertheless, Dorian comes to view the monstrous painting in Christian terms by invoking Oscar Wilde’s poem. “The painting has destroyed me,” Dorian states, “Each of us has heaven and hell inside.” Basil does not miss a beat, replying, “The prayer of your pride was answered; perhaps a prayer of repentance would be too.” Basil’s book on the Buddha is nowhere to be seen! The story has gone far from the original amoral paganism of an ancient Egyptian cat-god to the morally and soteriologically redemptive god-man of Christianity.

The story ends with the theme of redemption. When Dorian destroys the painting, he dies. Is he redeemed or did he pay the price for having sold his soul by having a short life—albeit a short, constantly youthful life? A Christian preacher says, “What shall it profit a man if he should gain the whole world but lose his soul? . . . The soul is a terrible reality. It can be bought and sold. It can be poisoned or made perfect. . . . The wretched creature whose soul is filled with vile thoughts and foul deeds must dwell in darkness. Even though he walks under the noonday sun, he carries his own vile dung around with him.” The soul, it turns out, is capable of transcendence, and can therefore be heaven or hell.  A bad conscience has its own weight, which eventually catches up with and drags down Dorian. Vile thoughts and foul deeds can pertain both to engaging in sensual pleasures and making a deal with the devil. The derived pleasure can be outweighed by a bad conscience. Dorian tells Henry, “I would do anything if I could change and get older like other people.” Once again, the narrator supplies a Christian interpretation: “A life of humility and denial, he would restore the painting, but it would tire of him.” Dorian asks God for forgiveness, the portrait breaks, and he looks old. The ending shot is of Wilde’s poem, propped up in front of the statue of the cat. The poem in part: “I sent my soul through the Invisible, my soul returned to me. And answered:  I myself am Heaven and Hell.” So the film ends with this curious mixing of ancient Egyptian religion and moralistic, Victorian, Christianity. Perhaps the tight morality of Victorian times—Wilde having published the story first in 1890—had an influence on the story itself and even on the 1945 film version. on the 1945 film version.

Similarly, the sexual revelation going on in 1970, when The Secret of Dorian Gray came out, can be seen as a major influence in the film, which is even set in its own contemporary day. In the opening scene, for example, Dorian is with friends in a gay bar watching a drag queen. Dorian and Sybil have sex on the day they meet. Posing for the painting, Dorian has his shirt off, has a loose tie on, and wears rugged jeans. He looks like a male prostitute. What the camera shows is much more revealing than in the 1945 film. After a posing session, Dorian is shown in an outdoor shower; that he is wearing a swimming suit seems foisted on the film by censors. Basil refers to Dorian as being “entirely sensuous,” to which Henry adds, “What is vice anyway—pleasure in chains.” His sister attributes this view to Oscar Wilde. Regarding sex and marriage, Henry recommends, “Ideally, one should enjoy everything and possess nothing.” Yet religion, and specifically Christianity, is not brought in, given the secularity that was gaining ground even in 1970. To be sure, Dorian invokes his soul when he says, “Why should I get old while this [painting] stays young? Why can’t it be the other way around?” . . . “I would give anything to stay like that; I would give my soul to stay like that.” Basil’s reply is more psychological than religious. “You see, I’m right; he is in love with himself.” Narcissism! Even in Dorian’s reply that the painting is “part of me now. I don’t know which part,” the allusion to a mystic element is missing. When Dorian takes a sample of the picture’s paint to a chemist, it is clear that belief in a spiritual world is something of the past. The chemist asks Dorian, “You mean, can the seen world be changed by what used to be called the spiritual world?” I submit that regarding the notion of the spiritual world as being in the past reflects the secular culture that was coming of age when the film was being made.  The only allusion to religion is made by Dorian when an older Henry asks someone, “How does Dorian look so young?” Dorian replies, “You should know that Henry, I sold my soul to the devil; you introduced me to him.” Henry’s philosophy was one of acting on temptations for sensual pleasure.

Whereas allusions to religion are rare, commercialism can clearly be seen in the film, which was made after at least two decades of the commercial hegemony of the U.S. in the world after World War II. For instance, Henry buys the painting for Dorian, observing as if it were a fact, “Painters must be paid.” In the 1945 film, Basil gives Dorian the painting out of friendship. Commercialization, it seems, had made inroads since the end of World War I. Although the dominant theological take on profit-seeking and wealth had long since shifted from anti-wealth to pro-wealth, thus reducing Christianity’s force as a constraint on greed, secularization is a fertile bed for a commercial society.[1]

Both commercialism and secularity privilege the exterior to a person’s interior. In viewing a spiritual world as an antiquated notion, the 1970 film cuts off an interior realm (e.g., the kingdom of God is within). Similarly, in a commercial context, the exchange of money means that how people are inside doesn’t matter. Dorian tells Sybil, “Inside? Who wants to know what filth is inside? Beauty is what we see—nothing else.” Henry will tell a friend, “Today beauty is more important than genius.” What is exterior is more important than what is interior. Also, Dorian gets money for having a picture of his face in a magazine. This holds even in the case of the painting, which represents Dorian as a gigolo. At the very least, Dorian lacks internal substance; he can be regarded as a fucking machine.

It is no accident that the exterior-oriented Dorian socializes with other people who are live on an exterior level. In the film, such people are not only the sexually promiscuous, but also the wealthy of the commercial caste. Dorian tells Sybil that he is going to a party with rich people who may be filthy inside but beautiful on the outside. Wealth, it seems, is a shield. In a secular world, appearance is what matters. Business is discussed at the party. Perhaps commercialization, or an encroaching business culture over society, can act as such a shield. Sybil values what is on the inside of a person, whereas Dorian does not; he intends to please himself by turning outward. This is not to say that he is a business type. As if to distinguish himself from all the business talk, he says, “We rich people don’t care about money.” So it is not greed that Dorian suffers from; his vice is lust.

Dorian tells a woman, “I think, if you want something desperately, it’s worth whatever you’ve got.” Rather than having religious overtones, such as in making a pact with an Egyptian cat-god or the devil, the meaning is sexual. Dorian goes off and kisses (and has sex with?) a younger woman. Later he takes her and friends to Sybil’s performance. Because she is an awful actress, Dorian calls her a bore, slaps her and leaves her on a city bus. The harm element is de-emphasized, while sexuality is anything but. “It’s funny how somethings you once thought were significant are not really at all,” he remarks about his past relationship with Sybil, and then he has sex with Henry’s sister. The de-emphasis on harm is visible in just a very slight change in the painting—just in the expression of the eyes—from having hurt Sybil.  When Henry informs Dorian of Sybil’s suicide, Henry says, “We are responsible for our own lives and nothing else.” Dorian has more sex, and then two women have sex. Dorian swims with topless women, and seduces a newlywed by taking off his clothes. 

It is as if the film were soft-porn. The character resembles a porn star even as represented in Basil’s painting. In this way, the sexuality in this film differs from how sexuality is portrayed in the 2009 version, which, while it includes orgies, is less driven by sex. Regarding Dorian having sex with married women in the 1970 film, Basil says, “Dorian, there must be some limit; you corrupt and destroy anyone who comes in contact with you.” Unlike in the 1945 film, the harm is a byproduct of Dorian’s unrestrained lust. Even Henry touches Dorian while he is showering. In the next scene, Dorian is checking out gay men. Later in the film, Henry watches Dorian swim naked. Henry’s facial expression is creepy; this is also a way in which this film differs from the next one. Meanwhile, the painting is being affected mostly in the face and fingers—not nearly as dramatically as in the 1945 version in which the painting is in color when seen from the point of view of a character. The message in the 1970 film reflects Oscar Wilde’s own life, wherein sexual wantonness had long-term consequences (i.e., he was imprisoned for homosexual acts with Bosie, and died in middle age from a medical condition due to the imprisonment). In the 1970 film, the pact with the Egyptian cat, or the devil, is absent; instead, social immorality is at the fore. Even in the midst of the sexual revolution, sleeping with married women went too far. 

Sex, with drugs added in, is also salient in Dorian Gray (2009), though not as much as in the 1970 version. The orgies and visit to a whore house do not give Dorian the look of a porn star.  Rather, he is portrayed as enjoying life as a wealth young man. Although the story is set in the nineteenth century, the change reflects both the surge in high-end party drugs and the AIDS epidemic in the 1980s and 1990s, both of which had had an effect on the world by the time the film was made. In other words, the sexual revolution had long since ended.

Also, more allusions to Christianity suggest that the West was no longer so hostile to religion by 2009, though the religious references are much fewer than in the 1945 film. At one point, Dorian tells Henry, “Perhaps I should nail myself to the devil’s altar.” At the end of the film, Dorian admits to Henry, “I have lived the life you preached.” Yet the very word preached seems an over-reach, as Henry’s philosophy was one of unlimited sensual pleasure, without any transcendent basis. Although the dichotomy of sensual pleasure and having a heart can be taken as having a religious aspect (e.g., God is love), Henry, like the philosopher Nietzsche, who in the last half of the nineteenth century, is oriented to eschewing modern morality.

Henry encourages Dorian to smoke, for instance. Nothing irreligious is inherent in smoking. Regarding the castigation of morality, Henry tells Dorian, “Conscience is just a polite term for coward,” and the “only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it.” In his writings, Nietzsche advises overcoming instinctual urges by mastering them. Henry does not mean a religious temptation; in fact, he takes Dorian to be with several prostitutes at once. Unlimited sexual pleasure, rather than harm, is the main antagonist. Sybil’s suicide causes only a cut on a hand in the painting (and a small worm coming out of one eye). Dorian then says, “A toast to intoxication.” Then he has sex with a woman at a party, followed by sex with her mother with the daughter is hiding under the bed. “There are no limits,” Henry says. Then Dorian is with many women. He wants sex with men too. Reckoning all this as evil, Basil tells Dorian, “There is good in your heart; I’ve seen it. You’re not this devil.” Is sexual promiscuity really evil? Immoral? Basil would have an easier argument were he able to point to Dorian stabbing him several times, and yet even such a horrific act translates only to a subtle change in the painting—the mouth having just a few teeth opens a bit! After Dorian kills Basil, we see Dorian at an orgy. Even though murder is worse than attending an orgy, the emphasis of the film is on Dorian’s sexual activity. For instance, after that orgy, we see Dorian at another, this time with violence involved.

Many years later, Henry’s adult daughter, Victoria, speaks with what may be considered religious undertones. Dorian tells her, “Love is an illusion,” to which she later says, “They say you devote yourself to pleasure.” But I know “you do have a heart.” Pleasure is dichotomous with love. Reflecting the interior/exterior dichotomy that is so strong in the 1970 film, Dorian replies, “Perhaps below the surface.” Pleasure, however, is felt inside, just as love is, whereas sexual activity is external. Also, no reference is made to God being love; rather the love is of the romantic type, which can be swayed by lust.

Not even the climax of the film can be taken as distinctly religious unless the supernatural is assumed to be indicative of something religious. Both when Dorian tries to kill Henry and when Dorian stabs the painting, the latter moves and growls. When the painting is being stabbed, the head leaps forward at Dorian, who dies in the fire that Henry started. Although visibly apocalyptic, the climax contains no religious language and no hint of the devil. Rather, the painting itself is portrayed as a supernaturally “living” entity distinct from Dorian. In other words, the 2009 film is a horror rather than a religious film. Rather than a pact with the devil, pleasure without constraints (including conscience) is the problem.

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1. Skip Worden, God’s Gold: Beneath the Shifting Sands of Christian Thought on Profit-Seeking and Wealth, available at Amazon.