Movie Review:
Postcards From the Edge
R / 1 hr., 41 min. / 1990
I rented Postcards From the Edge knowing only that there was a shot of Meryl Streep hanging from the ledge of a building and trying to find the best delivery in her call for help. The shot in isolation was very funny. The context for the shot is less so. This is one of those films you find in the comedy aisle, but which doesn’t really belong there at all: While some humorous situations and verbal interplay dance across the surface, at heart this is a drama.
Postcards From the Edge is the semi-autobiographical retelling of actress Carrie Fisher’s own experience recovering from a drug addiction. Kind of. It’s actually more about her relationship with her mother once the film hits its first turning point.
In this fictionalized version, Suzanne Vale (Meryl Streep) barely finishes principle shooting on her latest film when she overdoses and lands in rehab. As a recovering addict, she is now a liability for film insurance companies, and finding good work will be nearly impossible. There is a film company interested in hiring her, but on one condition: That she live with her mother for the duration of the production.
Vale’s mother is Doris Mann (Shirley MacLaine), faded has-been and mild alcoholic – never drunk, but always with a drink on hand. And she is one of those mothers that manages to be selfish in her generosity, always giving advice, giving encouragement, giving opinions – because it makes her feel good and in control to do so. And because it then gives her a reason to upstage her daughter. Vale has no hope of ever being the woman her mother’s lectures envision.
As Vale’s new film role commences shooting, she has to learn to deal with the ever-present drug urge, an adoring hunk (Dennis Quaid) who may or may not want her just for sex, an onslaught of “helpful” advice from the producers of the film, and her mother. Coping is not always easy.
There is a sense in which the film is nearly flawless. Mike Nichols (The Graduate) directs a smart script by Carrie Fisher and draws out a strong chemistry between Meryl Streep (Sophie’s Choice) and Shirley MacLaine (Steel Magnolias), a chemistry made that much more potent by Fisher’s story. I’m looking at Nichols’ list of credits, and he appears to specialize in real-life, present-day dramas, which is evident here.
Streep does a fine job of portraying a woman on the titular edge. She often looks strained, worn out, tired of fighting and coping. How easy it would be to take a few forbidden pills and retreat to rehab’s cozy private bedrooms again, and the weary fight against this temptation comes out in her performance.
Holding her own against Streep’s fine work is MacLaine, who is always reliable as a feisty overbearing type. She creates Doris as a self-proclaimed expert on life and fame and money and coping, but whose constant verbiage serves more to drown out her own pain rather than actually have a positive effect on anyone around her.
The lovable Mary Wickes (The Music Man) plays Mann’s mother, and the three generations in one room reveal a lot about why Vale turned to drugs. Also in supporting and cameo roles are Dennis Quaid (The Big Easy) as a smarmy lover, Gene Hackman (Mississippi Burning) as a Richard Donner-esque film director, and Rob Reiner (Sleepless in Seattle) as a film producer with the uneasy task of requesting a drug test from Vale. And that’s not including Richard Dreyfuss (Jaws), Annette Bening (Mars Attacks!), Simon Callow (Shakespeare in Love), and more. There’s a buffet of top talent scattered throughout the production, sometimes in roles that disappear before you can look twice, and none of which ever hit a wrong note.
Several scenes take place on the set of Vale’s film, and provide both amusing images and poignant symbolism. Many shots reveal facades and rear projection backdrops, hinting at the phony exterior Vale puts on in public while she wrestles with her inner agonies. Sometimes I had more fun looking at the film equipment and crew members at work than in following Vale’s journey.
But here’s the paradox: All this nearly flawless material adds up to a film that is just, well, uninteresting. I can offer no compelling reason to see it even once, let alone see it again or own a copy. I’m sitting here at my word processor trying to think of something, anything, that grabbed me, or of anyone I know to whom I would mention it with even a degree of enthusiasm. And nothing comes to mind.
Maybe it’s because I’ve seen too many movies. Everything this movie has can be found elsewhere, and presented at least as well as it is here. For instance, the dialogue is strong, but there’s more interesting dialogue out there. For snappy conversations between a mother and her child, I recommend Mother by Albert Brooks, starring, interestingly enough, Carrie Fisher’s mother Debbie Reynolds. The performances here are good, but Streep and MacLaine are good elsewhere, too. Other films about characters struggling against addictions have touched me deeper.
Really, I’m clutching at straws here trying to fathom why this movie even really exists, besides the pedestrian explanation that a producer somewhere liked the script and so on. If it disappeared completely, or had never even been made, the cinema world wouldn’t be lacking in any way. And in fairness, I suppose that could be said about a lot of movies.
I’m not trying to slam the film. All its parts are excellent, but those parts just add up to a whole that completely fails to captivate me. I’ve seen other films where the same could be said, but this is the greatest disparity I’ve ever noticed between a film’s superior artistry and inferior entertainment. It’s that disparity that has me stumped.
If I could pinpoint an actual complaint, it is that the songs go on way too long. Both Vale and Mann have singing talent, and it is showcased twice in the film. In both instances, the respective singer covers the entire song, and in one case she does so in a single close-up. The songs are not a useless conceit – some family dynamics are revealed in the first musical moment – but their sheer duration brings the proceedings to a halt.
No doubt some fan of the film will read this and be stupefied, and I’ll be told that it’s a wonderful film. To this I can only say that while I agree it is quite exceptional in its execution, we all have our preferences and mine do not include Postcards From the Edge.
If you haven’t had your fill of MacLaine as a grouchy old woman, or if you have a compulsion to see everything Streep has ever appeared in, give it a go. You certainly won’t be wasting your time on a bad movie – far from it. And if you like it more than I did, more power to you.
My Score: 7
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Learning to Fly
Play Review:
Peter Pan
by J.M. Barrie
Musical Adaptation by Mark Charlap and Carolyn Leigh
Company: Redmond High School
Venue: Redmond High School
Run: 5/18/2010 – 5/22/2010
There is a certain appropriateness in having a high school stage a production of Peter Pan, as it is a story about the necessity of growing up, of overcoming one’s fears about adulthood and admitting that eternal youth in Neverland is not an enviable lifestyle. This week Redmond High School, along with select performers from local junior high and elementary schools, brings J.M. Barrie’s story to life in the musical incarnation by Mark Charlap and Carolyn Leigh.
The story, of course, is the familiar tale of Wendy, John, and Michael Darling, and their encounter one night with Peter Pan, the spritely boy in green who can fly and who has sat outside their bedroom window, more evenings than they know, listening to Wendy tell her younger brothers their bedtime stories. Now Peter offers to take Wendy back to his home of Neverland, where you never grow up, so she can be “Mother” to all the Lost Boys there and tell them stories forever.
Peter’s constant enemy in Neverland is Captain Hook, who wants to kill the Lost Boys. And when he discovers a “Mother” on the island, his plan is to keep her on board to tell stories to his pirates forever. This leads to the grand swordfight finale between Pan and Hook aboard the pirate ship, and a happy ending that becomes a slightly bittersweet ending and then we all go home. If that felt rushed, it’s because I’ve written it before in a film review.
Frankly, it would be easy to attack this latest production on many levels. For one, I’m just not crazy about the Charlap & Leigh musical version. Apart from the iconic “I Won’t Grow Up”, the songs strike me as not really striking me, and in some places feel desperately tacked on to no good purpose. It is possible, if I ever make myself watch the classic Mary Martin performance, that the songs may feel more integrated and catchy when performed by professionals, but I doubt it – amateur delivery does not seem to be the problem here. If you like the musical version, you may ignore this old codger’s opinion with abandon.
In this run, Peter Pan is played by two students. At my showing, Una Wagner was the featured performer; the other is Billy Brandt, and I might see if I can catch a snatch of his performance Friday by buttering up the right school administrators. Miss Wagner has a lot of the necessary charm and energy for the part, though I am partial to having actual males in male roles, as when Jeremy Sumpter played the role in the 2003 film. Wagner has an enthusiastic smile as well as a delightful singing voice, and does a fine job skipping, jumping, and crowing about the stage.
As can be expected from a school production, the talent level covers a wide spectrum. The performance that surprised me the most was Jeffrey Richards, a cute little speck of a thing I am assuming was recruited from an elementary school. As Michael, Richards shows more confidence and personality than some of the high schoolers, and has the advantage of being totally adorable in his white night shirt.
And naturally, as a school production, there is a disjointed blend of strong and weak elements. Some characters had microphones and were clearly audible, others went unaided in their projection and were lost completely under the ruckus of Indian chases and sword fights and the orchestra. At times the orchestra was simply too loud, though when the piano had the melody, the pianist seemed reticent to actually speak up.
Costuming was surprisingly extensive, and included a vibrant pirate costume for Captain Hook, and full-body dog and crocodile outfits as well. And though I’ve seen better sets at previous RHS productions, the large cut-outs and the “coloring book” look are very fitting for a children’s story. The school also managed to secure the services of Flying By Foy, so that they do indeed fly through the air as gracefully as any professional company. They even managed to do one better than the high school production I saw in Utah, where either John or Michael had to make repeated efforts to get off the ground while a banging sound backstage suggested some trouble with the wires.
I will also point out that the playbills are very professional. I mention this because six or seven years ago the RHS playbills were flimsy, poorly laid out, and riddled with typos. A good playbill should present a professional welcome to audience members, and the one for Peter Pan achieves this.
And now I have to be cruelly honest: The quality of the production does not justify the $10 ($12 at the door) ticket price. Certainly as a former drama teacher I am aware that a school play is mounted as an experience for the students. At the educational level, the audience is not there to be entertained; they are there to provide an audience for the young performers learning what it is to memorize lines, create characters, and go out on a stage and face down a paying crowd. The audience becomes another facet of the students’ dramatic education.
And I have happily paid between four and seven bucks in the past for some very good shows at Redmond High, including A Midsummer Night’s Dream and even that depressing Woody Allen drama with the title I cannot recall that was very well acted despite its dreary message of hopelessness. So I am not just being a mean old critic who does not know how to view school plays for the educational value they present to the students. I simply did not receive a twelve-dollar show last night.
I think any and all troubles can be summed up as the director Phil Neely biting off a bigger project than the school was ready to chew. One of the first signs is that almost every Lost Boy and pirate is played by a female (much like the female Russian soldiers in my junior high adventure through Fiddler on the Roof). And I could be wrong but the presence of students borrowed from other schools would suggest that there was not enough in-house student interest to pull the play off.
Were I to list all my thoughts, they would largely revolve around little things that could have spiced up the production a notch. One example: Despite having a choreographer on the crew, some moments were a little bland. While Peter Pan sings “I Gotta Crow” the character pretty much just stands there. I so wanted to see him bound about the room like the cocky and vibrant imp that he is. I’m surprised no one on the creative staff found anything interesting to do with that scene.
I could go on, but I will retreat and remind myself that it is for the students that a school play is put on. And as such, several dozen kids are getting a good experience putting on a massive production. They are learning what it is to get into costume, enter on cue, act and react. In the wings, the crew are learning about timing of curtain, lights, music. And certainly they are learning that when cast members are flying fifteen to twenty feet off the stage, there is no room for getting distracted. I was not satisfied as an audience member, but I would not have the students involved miss out on this facet of their education no matter what the crusty old critics say.
Despite the play’s rough edges – of which there were plenty – as I sat there with my five-year-old son and heard again the play’s message about growing up, I did have to hold back a tear or two. They grow up so fast, don’t they? But the alternative of remaining a petulant child forever would not truly be as wonderful as it sometimes sounds.
I certainly hope that if you are a family member or friend of cast or crew that you will go see what they have achieved. For all others, I leave it up to you.
Lowest ticket price: $10
Value for money: Very hard to justify the expense
Peter Pan
by J.M. Barrie
Musical Adaptation by Mark Charlap and Carolyn Leigh
Company: Redmond High School
Venue: Redmond High School
Run: 5/18/2010 – 5/22/2010
There is a certain appropriateness in having a high school stage a production of Peter Pan, as it is a story about the necessity of growing up, of overcoming one’s fears about adulthood and admitting that eternal youth in Neverland is not an enviable lifestyle. This week Redmond High School, along with select performers from local junior high and elementary schools, brings J.M. Barrie’s story to life in the musical incarnation by Mark Charlap and Carolyn Leigh.
The story, of course, is the familiar tale of Wendy, John, and Michael Darling, and their encounter one night with Peter Pan, the spritely boy in green who can fly and who has sat outside their bedroom window, more evenings than they know, listening to Wendy tell her younger brothers their bedtime stories. Now Peter offers to take Wendy back to his home of Neverland, where you never grow up, so she can be “Mother” to all the Lost Boys there and tell them stories forever.
Peter’s constant enemy in Neverland is Captain Hook, who wants to kill the Lost Boys. And when he discovers a “Mother” on the island, his plan is to keep her on board to tell stories to his pirates forever. This leads to the grand swordfight finale between Pan and Hook aboard the pirate ship, and a happy ending that becomes a slightly bittersweet ending and then we all go home. If that felt rushed, it’s because I’ve written it before in a film review.
Frankly, it would be easy to attack this latest production on many levels. For one, I’m just not crazy about the Charlap & Leigh musical version. Apart from the iconic “I Won’t Grow Up”, the songs strike me as not really striking me, and in some places feel desperately tacked on to no good purpose. It is possible, if I ever make myself watch the classic Mary Martin performance, that the songs may feel more integrated and catchy when performed by professionals, but I doubt it – amateur delivery does not seem to be the problem here. If you like the musical version, you may ignore this old codger’s opinion with abandon.
In this run, Peter Pan is played by two students. At my showing, Una Wagner was the featured performer; the other is Billy Brandt, and I might see if I can catch a snatch of his performance Friday by buttering up the right school administrators. Miss Wagner has a lot of the necessary charm and energy for the part, though I am partial to having actual males in male roles, as when Jeremy Sumpter played the role in the 2003 film. Wagner has an enthusiastic smile as well as a delightful singing voice, and does a fine job skipping, jumping, and crowing about the stage.
As can be expected from a school production, the talent level covers a wide spectrum. The performance that surprised me the most was Jeffrey Richards, a cute little speck of a thing I am assuming was recruited from an elementary school. As Michael, Richards shows more confidence and personality than some of the high schoolers, and has the advantage of being totally adorable in his white night shirt.
And naturally, as a school production, there is a disjointed blend of strong and weak elements. Some characters had microphones and were clearly audible, others went unaided in their projection and were lost completely under the ruckus of Indian chases and sword fights and the orchestra. At times the orchestra was simply too loud, though when the piano had the melody, the pianist seemed reticent to actually speak up.
Costuming was surprisingly extensive, and included a vibrant pirate costume for Captain Hook, and full-body dog and crocodile outfits as well. And though I’ve seen better sets at previous RHS productions, the large cut-outs and the “coloring book” look are very fitting for a children’s story. The school also managed to secure the services of Flying By Foy, so that they do indeed fly through the air as gracefully as any professional company. They even managed to do one better than the high school production I saw in Utah, where either John or Michael had to make repeated efforts to get off the ground while a banging sound backstage suggested some trouble with the wires.
I will also point out that the playbills are very professional. I mention this because six or seven years ago the RHS playbills were flimsy, poorly laid out, and riddled with typos. A good playbill should present a professional welcome to audience members, and the one for Peter Pan achieves this.
And now I have to be cruelly honest: The quality of the production does not justify the $10 ($12 at the door) ticket price. Certainly as a former drama teacher I am aware that a school play is mounted as an experience for the students. At the educational level, the audience is not there to be entertained; they are there to provide an audience for the young performers learning what it is to memorize lines, create characters, and go out on a stage and face down a paying crowd. The audience becomes another facet of the students’ dramatic education.
And I have happily paid between four and seven bucks in the past for some very good shows at Redmond High, including A Midsummer Night’s Dream and even that depressing Woody Allen drama with the title I cannot recall that was very well acted despite its dreary message of hopelessness. So I am not just being a mean old critic who does not know how to view school plays for the educational value they present to the students. I simply did not receive a twelve-dollar show last night.
I think any and all troubles can be summed up as the director Phil Neely biting off a bigger project than the school was ready to chew. One of the first signs is that almost every Lost Boy and pirate is played by a female (much like the female Russian soldiers in my junior high adventure through Fiddler on the Roof). And I could be wrong but the presence of students borrowed from other schools would suggest that there was not enough in-house student interest to pull the play off.
Were I to list all my thoughts, they would largely revolve around little things that could have spiced up the production a notch. One example: Despite having a choreographer on the crew, some moments were a little bland. While Peter Pan sings “I Gotta Crow” the character pretty much just stands there. I so wanted to see him bound about the room like the cocky and vibrant imp that he is. I’m surprised no one on the creative staff found anything interesting to do with that scene.
I could go on, but I will retreat and remind myself that it is for the students that a school play is put on. And as such, several dozen kids are getting a good experience putting on a massive production. They are learning what it is to get into costume, enter on cue, act and react. In the wings, the crew are learning about timing of curtain, lights, music. And certainly they are learning that when cast members are flying fifteen to twenty feet off the stage, there is no room for getting distracted. I was not satisfied as an audience member, but I would not have the students involved miss out on this facet of their education no matter what the crusty old critics say.
Despite the play’s rough edges – of which there were plenty – as I sat there with my five-year-old son and heard again the play’s message about growing up, I did have to hold back a tear or two. They grow up so fast, don’t they? But the alternative of remaining a petulant child forever would not truly be as wonderful as it sometimes sounds.
I certainly hope that if you are a family member or friend of cast or crew that you will go see what they have achieved. For all others, I leave it up to you.
Lowest ticket price: $10
Value for money: Very hard to justify the expense
Saturday, May 8, 2010
The Spear Misses Its Target
Movie Review:
End of the Spear
PG-13 / 1 hr., 48 min / 2006
In the mid-1950's, missionary pilot Nate Saint flew Jim Elliot and three missionary companions into the jungles of Ecuador in an attempt to make contact with the Auca tribe. Their goal was to share the Bible’s message of salvation, the Gospel, to the natives.
On January 8, 1956, the five men were mercilessly slaughtered by a group of Auca tribesmen.
Whether readers of this review believe in Christianity or not is beside the point. Saint, Elliot, and the others did firmly believe that all people everywhere are destined to Hell unless they place their trust in Jesus Christ. Spreading the Gospel, enabling people to hear of Heaven and the escape from eternal pain and suffering, was of the utmost importance to them. They were willing to give their lives in the process if God so decreed.
But you sure can’t tell that by watching End of the Spear.
The film is told from the point of view of Nate’s son Steve, who was not yet a teen when his father was killed. We begin with a shot of an adult Steve (Chad Allen) paddling along a river with a Waodani tribesman named Mincayani (Louie Leonardo). Where they are going is not yet revealed, but Steve’s narration leads us into the story of how Mincayani ended up sitting in a boat with the son of the man he killed.
In the earlier part of the century, Mincayani was a prominent member of a dwindling tribe. Certainly some tribal rituals were part of the problem: When a parent died, for instance, his living children were to be buried with him – which really puts a damper on any hopes of a flourishing family tree. In addition, in-fighting among the various Ecuadorian tribes was leading to the extinction of all of them. But one enemy they all had in common was the “foreigners” – which basically constituted any white man.
There is a sub-plot involving what I think was Mincayani’s sister ending up being adopted by some white missionaries years before, but when the missionaries try to inform the Waodani that she is still alive and well, Mincayani is skeptical. Indeed, his skepticism and distrust eventually boil over into the rage that leads to the five deaths.
While these deaths bring grief to the hearts of the wives the missionaries left behind, these women also believe as their husbands did, and head out to minister to the Waodani tribe. Under the constantly distrustful eye of Mincayani, Elisabeth Elliot and the other women encourage the tribe to lay off killing other tribes, to foster honorable character. The women also prove very helpful when polio enters the tribe, administering medicine and therapy to heal the natives.
This loving treatment in light of his murderous behavior tortures Mincayani’s heart until, years later, he finds himself paddling up the river with Steve to the place where Nate and the missionaries were killed. There, both Mincayani and Steve must finally come to grips with the tragedy.
It has been the history of Christian films that, because they are not as hugely marketable as generic Hollywood entertainment, they operate under much lower budgets, and therefore end up with low production values all around, from acting to costumes to music to editing. In its favor, End of the Spear plays very much like a moderately well-budgeted film.
For what it is, the screenplay by Bart Gavigan, Jim Hanon, and Bill Ewing is respectable fare, with Mincayani’s story vividly laid out and woven together with Steve’s. Some of the lesser details puzzle me, like why the tribe is called the Waodani here when they are known as the Aucas in articles about Jim Elliot. And like many biopics, events are often compressed: The men made contact with the tribe on more occasions than are chronicled here, for example. But the overall structure is reliable, and the script is not inept.
Directed by Hanon, the production is entirely watchable, far removed from some of the embarrassments of Christian cinema’s earlier years. With some beautiful imagery by Robert A. Driskell, Jr., and production design by Clarence L. Major, we are taken into the steamy, dirty world of the Waodani, and the makeshift existence of the missionaries. It’s not perfect – the opening attack of one tribe upon another felt a little staged, for example. But clearly money was involved with this one.
Thanks to a beard and glasses, Chad Allen (NYPD Blue) works as both father and son without being a casting distraction, though far more charming is young Chase Ellison (The Young and the Restless) who plays Steve as a youth. But even with two roles, Allen actually doesn’t have a lot of acting to do. He flies the plane, lands with the men, and gets the dramatic death scene even though most anyone who knows this story thinks of Jim Elliot long before thinking of Nate Saint.
The film’s running time really belongs to Louie Leonardo (All My Children) as Mincayani. Leonardo must deal with all of the painful emotions running through Mincayani as he struggles with having his tribe’s tradition imposed upon by foreigners while at the same time wrestling with the perils those very traditions present. Leonardo gives no hint of his soap opera background, where melodrama reigns. He feels real in this performance.
Jack Guzman (Days of Our Lives) plays a tribesman named Kimo, who is the first to accept the ways of the missionary wives. Deciding their lessons of peace to be the better way, he helps with building new shelters, and reaches a point where he breaks his spears as a sign that he will no longer participate in killing other tribes. Guzman and Leonardo successfully generate the necessary tension between the two competing ideologies – they made me temporarily doubt what I knew was the historical outcome.
But under all of the quality production values lies a problem: If ever I have seen a biopic that totally misses the point of its subject matter, End of the Spear is the one.
Yes, I’m a Christian who very much admires Jim Elliot’s total devotion to God. But I’m not writing the following to turn any readers into Christians. I’m simply trying to describe the movie’s huge failure. I shall aim for succinctness.
It is the Bible’s claim that all souls throughout history are sinful from birth and sentenced by a perfectly holy God to pay for their sins by enduring never-ending unbearable suffering in Hell. Far from leaving it at that depressing conclusion, however, the Bible claims that God himself has paid that penalty by having his Son Jesus Christ die in mankind’s place, and that anyone who simply acknowledges this and places his trust in Christ will be rescued from the sentence of Hell and be welcomed into eternal bliss in God’s presence in the afterlife.
Saint and the missionaries believed all of this, and believed that giving the Waodani (or Aucas) the opportunity to hear that message and thus be saved from Hell was more important than any other goal in life. Still with me?
So if a person gave his life trying to rescue souls from Hell, shouldn’t a movie about that person include his central mission? End of the Spear turns Saint and Elliot, and later their wives, into people whose primary goal was to bring modern civility to the tribe; a shallow thesis compared to what they really went to Ecuador for. If you’re not familiar with Christian beliefs and the significance of my argument doesn’t strike you, let me put it this way: It would be akin to making a film about Martin Luther King, Jr., and leaving out that minor detail about his stand for racial equality.
The Bible’s message is not about living “the good life” here on earth. It is about the opportunity to live an unspeakably joyous life after this one. But Saint’s and Elliot’s heart-felt belief that God wants to save people from Hell is reduced to a message that God wants everyone to get along, get dressed, eat right, and stay healthy.
No wonder a homosexual activist and two soap opera hunks were willing to play leading roles in a “Christian” film: Had this movie truly portrayed what Nate Saint and the others stood for, I doubt Allen in particular would have touched the project. And no wonder so many non-Christians were angry: The film turns Saint and Elliot into nothing more than meddlers who had the presumption to assume that Western civilization needed to be spread to this backwater tribe.
I repeat, believing the veracity of the Bible’s message or not is up to you. My point is that End of the Spear thoroughly trivializes what happened in Ecuador, both in January of 1956 and years later when the next generation of missionaries returned, by ignoring Saint’s true motivation for going there. I give it points for production values, but cannot in good conscience call it a good movie.
My Score: 6
End of the Spear
PG-13 / 1 hr., 48 min / 2006
In the mid-1950's, missionary pilot Nate Saint flew Jim Elliot and three missionary companions into the jungles of Ecuador in an attempt to make contact with the Auca tribe. Their goal was to share the Bible’s message of salvation, the Gospel, to the natives.
On January 8, 1956, the five men were mercilessly slaughtered by a group of Auca tribesmen.
Whether readers of this review believe in Christianity or not is beside the point. Saint, Elliot, and the others did firmly believe that all people everywhere are destined to Hell unless they place their trust in Jesus Christ. Spreading the Gospel, enabling people to hear of Heaven and the escape from eternal pain and suffering, was of the utmost importance to them. They were willing to give their lives in the process if God so decreed.
But you sure can’t tell that by watching End of the Spear.
The film is told from the point of view of Nate’s son Steve, who was not yet a teen when his father was killed. We begin with a shot of an adult Steve (Chad Allen) paddling along a river with a Waodani tribesman named Mincayani (Louie Leonardo). Where they are going is not yet revealed, but Steve’s narration leads us into the story of how Mincayani ended up sitting in a boat with the son of the man he killed.
In the earlier part of the century, Mincayani was a prominent member of a dwindling tribe. Certainly some tribal rituals were part of the problem: When a parent died, for instance, his living children were to be buried with him – which really puts a damper on any hopes of a flourishing family tree. In addition, in-fighting among the various Ecuadorian tribes was leading to the extinction of all of them. But one enemy they all had in common was the “foreigners” – which basically constituted any white man.
There is a sub-plot involving what I think was Mincayani’s sister ending up being adopted by some white missionaries years before, but when the missionaries try to inform the Waodani that she is still alive and well, Mincayani is skeptical. Indeed, his skepticism and distrust eventually boil over into the rage that leads to the five deaths.
While these deaths bring grief to the hearts of the wives the missionaries left behind, these women also believe as their husbands did, and head out to minister to the Waodani tribe. Under the constantly distrustful eye of Mincayani, Elisabeth Elliot and the other women encourage the tribe to lay off killing other tribes, to foster honorable character. The women also prove very helpful when polio enters the tribe, administering medicine and therapy to heal the natives.
This loving treatment in light of his murderous behavior tortures Mincayani’s heart until, years later, he finds himself paddling up the river with Steve to the place where Nate and the missionaries were killed. There, both Mincayani and Steve must finally come to grips with the tragedy.
It has been the history of Christian films that, because they are not as hugely marketable as generic Hollywood entertainment, they operate under much lower budgets, and therefore end up with low production values all around, from acting to costumes to music to editing. In its favor, End of the Spear plays very much like a moderately well-budgeted film.
For what it is, the screenplay by Bart Gavigan, Jim Hanon, and Bill Ewing is respectable fare, with Mincayani’s story vividly laid out and woven together with Steve’s. Some of the lesser details puzzle me, like why the tribe is called the Waodani here when they are known as the Aucas in articles about Jim Elliot. And like many biopics, events are often compressed: The men made contact with the tribe on more occasions than are chronicled here, for example. But the overall structure is reliable, and the script is not inept.
Directed by Hanon, the production is entirely watchable, far removed from some of the embarrassments of Christian cinema’s earlier years. With some beautiful imagery by Robert A. Driskell, Jr., and production design by Clarence L. Major, we are taken into the steamy, dirty world of the Waodani, and the makeshift existence of the missionaries. It’s not perfect – the opening attack of one tribe upon another felt a little staged, for example. But clearly money was involved with this one.
Thanks to a beard and glasses, Chad Allen (NYPD Blue) works as both father and son without being a casting distraction, though far more charming is young Chase Ellison (The Young and the Restless) who plays Steve as a youth. But even with two roles, Allen actually doesn’t have a lot of acting to do. He flies the plane, lands with the men, and gets the dramatic death scene even though most anyone who knows this story thinks of Jim Elliot long before thinking of Nate Saint.
The film’s running time really belongs to Louie Leonardo (All My Children) as Mincayani. Leonardo must deal with all of the painful emotions running through Mincayani as he struggles with having his tribe’s tradition imposed upon by foreigners while at the same time wrestling with the perils those very traditions present. Leonardo gives no hint of his soap opera background, where melodrama reigns. He feels real in this performance.
Jack Guzman (Days of Our Lives) plays a tribesman named Kimo, who is the first to accept the ways of the missionary wives. Deciding their lessons of peace to be the better way, he helps with building new shelters, and reaches a point where he breaks his spears as a sign that he will no longer participate in killing other tribes. Guzman and Leonardo successfully generate the necessary tension between the two competing ideologies – they made me temporarily doubt what I knew was the historical outcome.
But under all of the quality production values lies a problem: If ever I have seen a biopic that totally misses the point of its subject matter, End of the Spear is the one.
Yes, I’m a Christian who very much admires Jim Elliot’s total devotion to God. But I’m not writing the following to turn any readers into Christians. I’m simply trying to describe the movie’s huge failure. I shall aim for succinctness.
It is the Bible’s claim that all souls throughout history are sinful from birth and sentenced by a perfectly holy God to pay for their sins by enduring never-ending unbearable suffering in Hell. Far from leaving it at that depressing conclusion, however, the Bible claims that God himself has paid that penalty by having his Son Jesus Christ die in mankind’s place, and that anyone who simply acknowledges this and places his trust in Christ will be rescued from the sentence of Hell and be welcomed into eternal bliss in God’s presence in the afterlife.
Saint and the missionaries believed all of this, and believed that giving the Waodani (or Aucas) the opportunity to hear that message and thus be saved from Hell was more important than any other goal in life. Still with me?
So if a person gave his life trying to rescue souls from Hell, shouldn’t a movie about that person include his central mission? End of the Spear turns Saint and Elliot, and later their wives, into people whose primary goal was to bring modern civility to the tribe; a shallow thesis compared to what they really went to Ecuador for. If you’re not familiar with Christian beliefs and the significance of my argument doesn’t strike you, let me put it this way: It would be akin to making a film about Martin Luther King, Jr., and leaving out that minor detail about his stand for racial equality.
The Bible’s message is not about living “the good life” here on earth. It is about the opportunity to live an unspeakably joyous life after this one. But Saint’s and Elliot’s heart-felt belief that God wants to save people from Hell is reduced to a message that God wants everyone to get along, get dressed, eat right, and stay healthy.
No wonder a homosexual activist and two soap opera hunks were willing to play leading roles in a “Christian” film: Had this movie truly portrayed what Nate Saint and the others stood for, I doubt Allen in particular would have touched the project. And no wonder so many non-Christians were angry: The film turns Saint and Elliot into nothing more than meddlers who had the presumption to assume that Western civilization needed to be spread to this backwater tribe.
I repeat, believing the veracity of the Bible’s message or not is up to you. My point is that End of the Spear thoroughly trivializes what happened in Ecuador, both in January of 1956 and years later when the next generation of missionaries returned, by ignoring Saint’s true motivation for going there. I give it points for production values, but cannot in good conscience call it a good movie.
My Score: 6
Friday, May 7, 2010
Two Parts Fluff
Movie Review:
Julie & Julia
PG-13 / 2 hrs., 3 min. / 2009
Until Julie & Julia came along, my only memories or knowledge of Julia Child came from seeing her television show as a young boy. Not that I was into cooking shows at age seven; mostly she was just a “funny old lady” to watch when Sesame Street wasn’t on.
Well, it turns out Mrs. Child was quite instrumental in encouraging American housewives to cook, to really cook and not just whip up Betty Crocker’s powdered mixes; and to enjoy the process at the same time. But apparently dozens of women in the theater already knew this, based on the comments I overheard.
Nora Ephron’s latest is a charming, romantic, and very funny comedy that weaves together two true stories: Julia Child’s life in France as she attempts to learn the art of French cooking and pass it on by writing a cookbook; and Julie Powell’s attempt to cook every recipe in Child’s book within one year.
The film opens like a beautiful postcard, with a car being lowered from a steamer and driving through the French countryside. In it are Paul Child (Stanley Tucci) and his wife Julia (Meryl Streep), newly transferred to Paris by the United States government. It is post-war France, and Julia is an ebullient personality that absorbs her surroundings, especially the French cuisine, with complete enthusiasm. But the exotic new locale is entertaining in itself only for so long, and soon Julia feels tedium creeping in.
As she enjoys eating good food so much, Julia enrolls in cooking school. Determined to learn French cooking, and encouraged by her husband, she lets nothing keep her down – not even the scornful attitude of the provost of Le Cordon Bleu. Eventually Julia joins forces with two French ladies to run their own cooking classes and to assemble their recipes into a cookbook written in English for American middle-class women.
Meanwhile (or rather decades later in 2002), Julie Powell (Amy Adams) grows weary of her monotonous government job in New York City and gives herself purpose by taking up Child’s published book (which deflates a little of the suspense about whether Child will get her book published) and working her way through it in a year, with an accompanying blog for whoever in the vast world wants to read of her adventure. Needing to average about two recipes a day, Powell dives in fully, potentially at the expense of alienating her husband Eric (Chris Messina).
Anyone familiar with Nora Ephron’s repertoire will definitely sense her presence here. The deft hand that created Sleepless in Seattle and You’ve Got Mail brings the same buoyant spirit to Julie & Julia. Some may criticize Ephron’s works as inconsequential fluff, but the older and crankier I get, the more I have to wonder: When did we reach a point where we believed it was a film’s moral obligation to have something serious to say? Films were once about entertaining us; critics have made us believe they have to be important. I sincerely appreciate Ephron’s light and frothy spirit of fun that infuses the three works of hers that I have now seen, a spirit that lets me bounce out of the theater with a smile. Oh, there is a “serious” side to Julie & Julia, but it could hardly be described as “weighty”, and any problems that rise up before our protagonists are fairly easily dismissed.
The contemporary half of the story has Ephron’s signature all over it. But in presenting Child’s life in France, Ephron proves that her sense of comedy and romance are not relegated strictly to present-day big cities. In fact, it is Child’s story that is the more engaging of the two; without it, Powell’s storyline would not have stood on its own as a captivating movie.
Julia Child is played by Meryl Streep (Mamma Mia!), and she is utterly convincing. The mannerisms and speech patterns I recall from the television show were all there. And had I not known any better, Streep’s imitation of Child’s voice would have completely fooled me. The performance is not mere mimicry; she definitely brings a real person out of the impersonation. Consider the quiet and tender way Child deals with her inability to have children. In Streep’s hands, these moments are subtle and believable, and the scenery is left unchewed.
A good performance is one in which the audience forgets the actor and sees only the character. Streep so successfully absorbed me that I would put her right up there with Daniel Day-Lewis in There Will Be Blood or Anthony Hopkins in The Silence of the Lambs. When I originally reviewed the film for a local magazine, I wrote that it is one of those performances that should be nominated for an Oscar, but which probably won’t because it has none of the political gravitas or heavy social relevance that the Academy falsely assumes is a requisite for an award. I am pleased to have been wrong, as Streep did indeed receive a nomination, proving that once in a while the Academy actually has some class.
Amy Adams (Enchanted) takes over for Meg Ryan in Ephron’s handbook of characters, as “the cute leading lady.” I don’t say this with derision – Ephron writes cute leading ladies so that they are believable and worthy of empathy; she manages to avoid making them syrupy and stupid. Adams is worthy of the performance, with zest and a darling smile that make her character entirely enjoyable; but as already noted, she is given the less interesting material.
Conversely, it is Chris Messina (Vicki Cristina Barcelona) as Powell’s husband that outshines Stanley Tucci (The Terminal) as Child’s husband. For reasons I cannot put into words, I enjoyed watching Messina work alongside Adams. He didn’t feel like the typical movie spouse; he feels real, and loving, and someone I’d want my daughter to marry. Tucci is always a pleasure to watch and does an excellent job; but of the male roles, he is the one with the lesser material.
A couple of very minor things prevent me from giving it a perfect score, one of which is a totally useless scene in which the Powells sit and watch Dan Aykroyd’s impersonation of Julia Child on Saturday Night Live. Aykroyd is funny, but watching someone watch Aykroyd for a full minute is not.
Otherwise, I like this film. A lot. It’s happy and perky. It is brightly lit. It is colorful. Alexandre Desplat’s bright little melodies are catchy. And while pop songs in movies generally annoy me, Ephron has a way of choosing and adding songs to the mix that actually complements her films. And (call me a prude) the only people who sleep together are the married couples!
Dare I end with a bad pun? For delightful viewing on a quiet evening, Julie & Julia is the perfect recipe.
My Score: 9
Julie & Julia
PG-13 / 2 hrs., 3 min. / 2009
Until Julie & Julia came along, my only memories or knowledge of Julia Child came from seeing her television show as a young boy. Not that I was into cooking shows at age seven; mostly she was just a “funny old lady” to watch when Sesame Street wasn’t on.
Well, it turns out Mrs. Child was quite instrumental in encouraging American housewives to cook, to really cook and not just whip up Betty Crocker’s powdered mixes; and to enjoy the process at the same time. But apparently dozens of women in the theater already knew this, based on the comments I overheard.
Nora Ephron’s latest is a charming, romantic, and very funny comedy that weaves together two true stories: Julia Child’s life in France as she attempts to learn the art of French cooking and pass it on by writing a cookbook; and Julie Powell’s attempt to cook every recipe in Child’s book within one year.
The film opens like a beautiful postcard, with a car being lowered from a steamer and driving through the French countryside. In it are Paul Child (Stanley Tucci) and his wife Julia (Meryl Streep), newly transferred to Paris by the United States government. It is post-war France, and Julia is an ebullient personality that absorbs her surroundings, especially the French cuisine, with complete enthusiasm. But the exotic new locale is entertaining in itself only for so long, and soon Julia feels tedium creeping in.
As she enjoys eating good food so much, Julia enrolls in cooking school. Determined to learn French cooking, and encouraged by her husband, she lets nothing keep her down – not even the scornful attitude of the provost of Le Cordon Bleu. Eventually Julia joins forces with two French ladies to run their own cooking classes and to assemble their recipes into a cookbook written in English for American middle-class women.
Meanwhile (or rather decades later in 2002), Julie Powell (Amy Adams) grows weary of her monotonous government job in New York City and gives herself purpose by taking up Child’s published book (which deflates a little of the suspense about whether Child will get her book published) and working her way through it in a year, with an accompanying blog for whoever in the vast world wants to read of her adventure. Needing to average about two recipes a day, Powell dives in fully, potentially at the expense of alienating her husband Eric (Chris Messina).
Anyone familiar with Nora Ephron’s repertoire will definitely sense her presence here. The deft hand that created Sleepless in Seattle and You’ve Got Mail brings the same buoyant spirit to Julie & Julia. Some may criticize Ephron’s works as inconsequential fluff, but the older and crankier I get, the more I have to wonder: When did we reach a point where we believed it was a film’s moral obligation to have something serious to say? Films were once about entertaining us; critics have made us believe they have to be important. I sincerely appreciate Ephron’s light and frothy spirit of fun that infuses the three works of hers that I have now seen, a spirit that lets me bounce out of the theater with a smile. Oh, there is a “serious” side to Julie & Julia, but it could hardly be described as “weighty”, and any problems that rise up before our protagonists are fairly easily dismissed.
The contemporary half of the story has Ephron’s signature all over it. But in presenting Child’s life in France, Ephron proves that her sense of comedy and romance are not relegated strictly to present-day big cities. In fact, it is Child’s story that is the more engaging of the two; without it, Powell’s storyline would not have stood on its own as a captivating movie.
Julia Child is played by Meryl Streep (Mamma Mia!), and she is utterly convincing. The mannerisms and speech patterns I recall from the television show were all there. And had I not known any better, Streep’s imitation of Child’s voice would have completely fooled me. The performance is not mere mimicry; she definitely brings a real person out of the impersonation. Consider the quiet and tender way Child deals with her inability to have children. In Streep’s hands, these moments are subtle and believable, and the scenery is left unchewed.
A good performance is one in which the audience forgets the actor and sees only the character. Streep so successfully absorbed me that I would put her right up there with Daniel Day-Lewis in There Will Be Blood or Anthony Hopkins in The Silence of the Lambs. When I originally reviewed the film for a local magazine, I wrote that it is one of those performances that should be nominated for an Oscar, but which probably won’t because it has none of the political gravitas or heavy social relevance that the Academy falsely assumes is a requisite for an award. I am pleased to have been wrong, as Streep did indeed receive a nomination, proving that once in a while the Academy actually has some class.
Amy Adams (Enchanted) takes over for Meg Ryan in Ephron’s handbook of characters, as “the cute leading lady.” I don’t say this with derision – Ephron writes cute leading ladies so that they are believable and worthy of empathy; she manages to avoid making them syrupy and stupid. Adams is worthy of the performance, with zest and a darling smile that make her character entirely enjoyable; but as already noted, she is given the less interesting material.
Conversely, it is Chris Messina (Vicki Cristina Barcelona) as Powell’s husband that outshines Stanley Tucci (The Terminal) as Child’s husband. For reasons I cannot put into words, I enjoyed watching Messina work alongside Adams. He didn’t feel like the typical movie spouse; he feels real, and loving, and someone I’d want my daughter to marry. Tucci is always a pleasure to watch and does an excellent job; but of the male roles, he is the one with the lesser material.
A couple of very minor things prevent me from giving it a perfect score, one of which is a totally useless scene in which the Powells sit and watch Dan Aykroyd’s impersonation of Julia Child on Saturday Night Live. Aykroyd is funny, but watching someone watch Aykroyd for a full minute is not.
Otherwise, I like this film. A lot. It’s happy and perky. It is brightly lit. It is colorful. Alexandre Desplat’s bright little melodies are catchy. And while pop songs in movies generally annoy me, Ephron has a way of choosing and adding songs to the mix that actually complements her films. And (call me a prude) the only people who sleep together are the married couples!
Dare I end with a bad pun? For delightful viewing on a quiet evening, Julie & Julia is the perfect recipe.
My Score: 9
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