Sunday, December 11, 2005
the children, the witch, the wardrobe (and a lion)
We were invited to attend a special church service at a local seeker-friendly megachurch today. The church rented out the movie theater at one of the big malls in Atlanta and was having a huge Narnia event, complete with a special screening of the movie. We were going to attend, but had other commitments. Instead, we saw the movie yesterday afternoon. After watching the film, I'm not sure how effective the strategy of churches using the movie as an evangelical tool will be.
The movie is absolutely beautiful: every snow covered branch, every red and gold, waving-in-the-breeze, lion-crested banner, every black-as-soot eyelash on every wide-eye of each one of the gorgeous children. My own kids really enjoyed it, but my husband and I were left feeling like something was missing. We agreed that the story was right and the children were perfect - everything looked the way we thought it ought to look. And yet, it was not right. As we left the theater, my husband asked what I thought. "I think it didn't really have a soul", I said. He nodded. Yes. It was missing a soul.
I thought about it all evening. I am a huge crier. I cry at everything. My daughter has inherited a similar sensitivity. She became hysterical when she watched March of the Penguins. When the time in the movie arrived for Aslan to meet the witch at the stone table, I motioned for her to get on my lap. "You know that Aslan is like Jesus", I whispered. She nodded. "He's going to die, isn't he?", she asked. I told her yes, and I prepared for the moment when I would have to carry her out of the theater in tears.
When I was a little girl, my father sat on the edge of my bed and read me the Narnia books at bedtime, one chapter at a time. When I saw the poorly animated movie version, and they shaved Aslan's mane, I cried so hard I could hardly breathe. And yet, as I sat and watched the beautifully crafted movie yesterday afternoon, I did not shed a single tear. Neither did Lily. Neither did anyone sitting around us. I should have cried, but I didn't.
So, when asked what I thought, I simply said that I thought it was missing the soul of the stories. The details were there, but the deep magic was not.
As I've thought about it, I think I've realized what the problem is. The movie is not really about Aslan at all; it is about the children. As you watch, you get the message that the children are the important thing. The witch wants to kill the children, the beavers must take the children to Aslan. There is never any sense that the children need Aslan - it's as if Aslan needs the children. Aslan's sacrifice is cheapened, and this is why I did not cry.
In fact, the children are made so central to the story, that it seems perfectly reasonable to expect Aslan to die to save Edmund. Instead of being devastated by his death, it feels like the death of any side character in any buddy movie. You hate to see him go, but it's okay - because Edmund, Peter, Susan, and Lucy have their special weapons from Father Christmas, and they have a big, beautiful army backing them up with shining silver armor and lots of beautiful banners waving in the wind to signify that their side is the winning side. The battle is so exciting that when Aslan finally does return and kills the witch, it's almost anti-climactic.
Last night, my mother called to ask how the movie was. I'd thought it through by then, and I told her about that the movie was not really about Aslan at all. I mentioned the whole megachurch theater-renting outreach, and I said that I didn't think people would watch the film and be spiritually moved by it. "Not if it isn't about Aslan", she agreed.
Then I commented that, ironically, the same churches that are renting the theaters are the ones that have decided to cancel church on Christmas morning. In the end, maybe Narnia is a better metaphor for the current state and message of mainstream Christianity than I realized or want to admit. The Children, The Witch, and The Wardrobe - with a lion thrown in and then quickly forgotten once the children are on the throne.
The movie is absolutely beautiful: every snow covered branch, every red and gold, waving-in-the-breeze, lion-crested banner, every black-as-soot eyelash on every wide-eye of each one of the gorgeous children. My own kids really enjoyed it, but my husband and I were left feeling like something was missing. We agreed that the story was right and the children were perfect - everything looked the way we thought it ought to look. And yet, it was not right. As we left the theater, my husband asked what I thought. "I think it didn't really have a soul", I said. He nodded. Yes. It was missing a soul.
I thought about it all evening. I am a huge crier. I cry at everything. My daughter has inherited a similar sensitivity. She became hysterical when she watched March of the Penguins. When the time in the movie arrived for Aslan to meet the witch at the stone table, I motioned for her to get on my lap. "You know that Aslan is like Jesus", I whispered. She nodded. "He's going to die, isn't he?", she asked. I told her yes, and I prepared for the moment when I would have to carry her out of the theater in tears.
When I was a little girl, my father sat on the edge of my bed and read me the Narnia books at bedtime, one chapter at a time. When I saw the poorly animated movie version, and they shaved Aslan's mane, I cried so hard I could hardly breathe. And yet, as I sat and watched the beautifully crafted movie yesterday afternoon, I did not shed a single tear. Neither did Lily. Neither did anyone sitting around us. I should have cried, but I didn't.
So, when asked what I thought, I simply said that I thought it was missing the soul of the stories. The details were there, but the deep magic was not.
As I've thought about it, I think I've realized what the problem is. The movie is not really about Aslan at all; it is about the children. As you watch, you get the message that the children are the important thing. The witch wants to kill the children, the beavers must take the children to Aslan. There is never any sense that the children need Aslan - it's as if Aslan needs the children. Aslan's sacrifice is cheapened, and this is why I did not cry.
In fact, the children are made so central to the story, that it seems perfectly reasonable to expect Aslan to die to save Edmund. Instead of being devastated by his death, it feels like the death of any side character in any buddy movie. You hate to see him go, but it's okay - because Edmund, Peter, Susan, and Lucy have their special weapons from Father Christmas, and they have a big, beautiful army backing them up with shining silver armor and lots of beautiful banners waving in the wind to signify that their side is the winning side. The battle is so exciting that when Aslan finally does return and kills the witch, it's almost anti-climactic.
Last night, my mother called to ask how the movie was. I'd thought it through by then, and I told her about that the movie was not really about Aslan at all. I mentioned the whole megachurch theater-renting outreach, and I said that I didn't think people would watch the film and be spiritually moved by it. "Not if it isn't about Aslan", she agreed.
Then I commented that, ironically, the same churches that are renting the theaters are the ones that have decided to cancel church on Christmas morning. In the end, maybe Narnia is a better metaphor for the current state and message of mainstream Christianity than I realized or want to admit. The Children, The Witch, and The Wardrobe - with a lion thrown in and then quickly forgotten once the children are on the throne.
