Into the Dark: Seeing the Sacred in the Top Films of the 21st Century

It has taken me time to slowly digest the writings of Craig Detweiler's text, "Into the Dark." There is so much wisdom and years of life experiences that emanate from these pages that I can only address concepts that engage my own personal experiences. Like Detweiler, my personal film experiences as a youngster were about escapism and entertainment. I loved going to the movies. I remember being dropped off at the movie theater by my dad and seeing a triple James Bond feature with Doug Smith, my 7th grade friend, and still wanting more after the movie ended. I used my imagination and a world of make believe as a form of escapism. I can recall spending hours in the bathroom and my bedroom fantasizing that I was Bruce Lee beating up the bad guys with my Kung Fu moves. I found Paul Schrader's description of the formation of a canon as a story very fascinating: "To understand the canon is to understand its narrative. Art is a narrative. Life is a narrative. The universe is a narrative. To understand the universe is to understand its history. Each and every thing is part of a story -- beginning, middle, and end." The thing that resonates in my heart as an artist is how to lead the viewer to the divine story, as referred by Jurgen Moltmann. How can I ask the right questions so the viewer is prompted to reflect and somehow have a general revelation from God? Moltmann said, "Critic Jonathan Rosenbaum acknowledged the power and importance of a film canon as an educational tool. It should start arguments about the art of cinema, causing us to reflect on what matters and why." As an educator and pastor, I am always seeking ways to have my students dig deeper and ask important and meaningful questions. Everything I use in the classroom, on set, or in the ministry can be defined as an educational tool that equips. This creates a series of experiments that have a built-in safety net and provides growth. I agree with Detweiler about practicing what Jurgen Moltmann has advocated. This leads to an intimate relationship with the Lord and a divine connection with the Holy Spirit. "It is possible to experience God in, with and beneath each everyday experience of the world, if God is in all things, and if all things are in God, so that God himself experiences all things in his own way." To answer this question, "How can God communicate through such unlikely means as movies?" I found the term "general revelation" to be an interesting concept. Detweiler states, "The theological term to describe this phenomenon is general revelation. It suggests that God can speak through anyone or anything at any time." Detweiler continues, "Christ remains our only saving grace, but movies can provide moments of grace as well. They dispense comfort and hope. Only God knows which debased art forms can still prove helpful to the mysterious ways of the Spirit." God can use anyone at anytime for His will. The Wachowski Brothers weren't believers, yet they incorporated Christian-Judeo al

In many ways, the four star rating system of film critics have killed the film goer's experience. We have slowly dismantled the relationship between the viewer and the film on the basis of "entertainment" value. What can this film do for me? Craig Detweiler's Into the Dark offers a welcomed alternative to the pervasive mentality. As Detweiler unleashes his wealth of knowledge on film history, production, and the culture it permeates, we are confronted with deeper questions surrounding film, their meaning, and their place amongst theological study. By taking his cues from the top 21st century films on the IMDB (Internet Movie Database), Detweiler asks two prominent questions: Is there a particular film narrative that has emerged in the postmodern era (or within what he calls the "new film canon")? And, does God reveal himself through film? Detweiler tackles the first of these questions by diving head first "into the dark" of the film noir of our day. By taking a bird's eye view of films such as Memento, The Departed, and Batman Begins, Detweiler sheds light on the emerging patterns of identity, self deception, and depravity. In a similar vein, Detweiler analyzes the imperfections of humanity midst films such as Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and Walk the Line. The complexities of community emerge front and center in Hotel Rwanda and Crash. And ethics take the focus in the conversational films Million Dollar Baby and Talk to Her. And so on... But if this journey in film exegesis stopped at topical discussion, we would find ourselves with a mere collection of movie reviews. Here is where the genius of Detweiler's culture analysis comes to life. As our second question (Does God reveal himself through film?) gets addressed, we discover two prominent realities at play: 1) general revelation transcends our (often presumed) constructs and is deeply immersed in culture, art, and the profane and 2) the role of the viewer matters. The understanding (and expectation) of general revelation is central to Detweiler's thesis as depending on how one approaches such a topic, everything shifts. Taking his cues from theological greats such as Bart, Schleiermacher, Moltmann and Balthasar (to name a few), Detweiler confronts the actual reality of God "having made himself known" not only through the person of Christ but through the work of the Holy Spirit today. In order to understand its relevancy for film, Detweiler champions Balthasar's (alongside others) reversal of the hermeneutical flow. Rather than approach theology (as most evangelicals do) from TRUTH to GOODNESS to BEAUTY, Detweiler asks what more might we "know" and "encounter" by starting with BEAUTY and subsequently arriving at TRUTH. For Detweiler, it is a marriage of "film and theology" on the notion that God does in fact reveal today. And this revelation often occurs in the most peculiar of places - say Martin Scorsese's Raging Bull. A prominent offer of Detweiler that sho

Reading Craig Detweiler's Into the Dark was like a good meal for me. I ate it, drank it in, and savored every bit of it. Parts of it, I ended up chewing over and over again, attempting to glean any residual "nutrition" that remained. Other parts, I sat with for a while, appreciating the challenge they presented or the artistic beauty they exuded and examining myself in light of each new tidbit. And like most great meals, I felt a hint of sadness at the end, feeling comfortably full yet desiring just one more morsel of deliciousness. One such topic that I ruminated over, much like a cow with its cud, was the issue of common grace. Having no formal theological education (yet), I must, somewhat embarrassingly, admit that common grace is not a theological issue that I have spent much brainpower on. As such, the "new" subject of common grace is fascinating for me, as is the controversy surrounding it. Chapter 1 of Detweiler's book titled "Methodology: Into the Darko" continues to surprise me each time I re-read it (at the time of this writing, I'm on my fourth reading). It captivates me, especially the sections relating to common grace. Detweiler's admitted goal for the book is his "search for that wild, untamed God who reveals whatever to whomever whenever God chooses" (pg. 30); an unofficial goal likely being solidification of the reader's idea that common grace translates to the movie screen as well. While being sure not to undermine the authority of Scripture or the replacement of church-going with movie-viewing, Detweiler asserts "the surprising work of the Spirit knows no bounds" (pg. 31), including Hollywood's silver screen. This unresolved issue is one that I keep delving into because with each new layer I uncover, I discover something fresh, worth taking time with and ruminating on over and again. As I sensed this book drawing to a close, I couldn't wipe away the sense of sadness I felt. Even as I read the final chapter, I felt my eyes welling with tears at several points. Why? I asked myself that very question each time. I was full, full of things to ponder, challenges that presented themselves for inner reflection, beautiful possibilities to consider. What more could I ask for? As I felt myself being pulled into the stories of the Hobbits from the Shire, I remembered my fear for their safety as I watched the first film of the series, my dread as Merry & Pippin were overtaken in the second film and my tears of elation when the King was finally crowned and the Hobbits returned to their beloved home in the final film. I still cannot put a finger on the reason for the tears tugging at the corner of my eyes and the feeling in the pit of my stomach when I finished the last chapter and put the book down, but I think that it felt something like hope, hope in Tolkien's belief that no one is past the point of redemption, hope that I can be surrounded by community as strong as Frodo had with his Fellowship, and hope that common

I wish I could summon the spirit of the late Don LaFontaine here - it would come across much more powerful, of course - but I cannot. In a world where required reading often means required time and nothing less, it's a rarity that we're able to dig through the junk to find the jewels. Into the Dark gives you nugget after nugget of the finest film gold. From Memento to Donnie Darko -- 45 of IMDb's top 250 - and page by page, movie by movie, it's a perfectly paced walk through the best aspects of cinema. Detweiler stays the course to provide a trustworthy guide and an altogether insightful interpretation, all the while providing theological insight along the way. It's like watching the movies all over again, with a different set of eyes. A little deeper, a little smarter, a little slower wins the race. Into the Dark is the journey of films through some of the darkest hours in order to show the brightest of grace. The chapters poignantly scribe the picture of a holistic faith seen in contrast with a dynamic culture. To speak personally, the book acted as an awakening towards the movies I could not reconcile. It was my own journey through the theater in hopes of finding others - Evangelicals even - sitting next to me, ready to commence The Great Discussion with two ears, one mouth and an eternal sense of grace in sight.