#GODonFILM: MIDNIGHT in PARIS Speaks of Nostalgia, Romanticism, and Presence

Inspector Javert takes a dip here, I believe

This Sunday I’ll be talking on Woody Allen‘s Midnight in Paris for our “GOD on FILM” series – and I just couldn’t wait to post on it even before my sermon, because for the many thematic elements to talk about here, there is the singularly rich and valuable point: the grass aint always greener on the other side. Which is why I was simultaneously charmed by this film but also really really disappointed (spoiler alert***)

Owen Wilson: naivete incarnate

The realization that presence takes precedence over nostalgia and romanticism – this is an important idea – a summons to snap back to reality and appreciate the good thing right in front of us, whether it is the place we live in, or the spouse we married, or the church we attend, or the career path we chose. Living constantly in a fantasy world of anywhere-but-here misanthropy is a miserable state to be in, no less, in my book – a state of perpetual childishness.

Which irks me to no end about the conclusion of this movie: in the end – Gil capitulates to his infatuation wholesale. Sure he’s not stuck in the 1920’s anymore but he never really grows up, in a sense. Paris may be the place to be today, but tomorrow it will be London, or NYC, or Milan, or anywhere but here. And there will always be a new belle who likes rain in her hair, or listens to Cole Porter, or likes pita bread. See what I mean?

Soon-Yi Previn and Woody Allen at the 2009 Tri...
not cool, Woodster, not cool.

So I don’t know if I’m alone in pointing this out – not many have aired these sentiments – but I just feel it was a bit too biographical of Woody Allen for my liking – slipping deeper into neurosis and never fully climbing out (albeit tongue in cheek).

Again. This was a great movie. But for it’s merits, the message never hits home in the end, but balks. For that reason I give it 3 out of 4.

#GODonFILM: Interpretations of The TREE of LIFE

Today’s post is from a guest blogger, friend, and fellow Regentarian, Desirée de Jesus. Desiree is a film theologian and philosopher working in Europe right now, and so I’m glad to have found similar conclusions to her about The Tree of Life (particularly how the brother is the key element to the narrative). Here’s her take on the Tree of Life:


Terrence Malick is something of an enigma.  A philosopher-cum-filmmaker, Malick guides his viewers through cinematic meditations suffused with emotionally evocative imagery and sequences that create space for the contemplation of philosophical and theological notions about the tensions of the lived experience.  From Badlands (1973) to The New World (2005), Malick’s films probe the consequences of relational rupture within a world that has lost its innocence, and his most recent film The Tree of Life, winner of the Palme d’Or at the 2011 Cannes Film Festival continues this discourse, albeit through unconventional narrative means.

The Tree of Life is an ambitious exploration of the human condition as embodied by the O’Briens, a family living in a small, idyllic town during the American golden age of the 1950’s. Much of the film presents an Edenic landscape of childhood memories of freedom and adult-imposed constraint through the eyes of Jack, the film’s central character. The dynamism and myopia of the camera’s movement and placement offers an immersive cinematic experience that recalls the often complicated transition from childhood to adolescence.  And yet, this is not a straightforward coming-of-age film.  Rather than the conventional plot-driven, character development of popular Hollywood films, The Tree of Life situates this family’s story within the grand narrative of the birth of the universe and the evolutionary development of Earth’s living organisms. Some may find the heavy symbolism and Heideggerian visual poiesis of this particular style of storytelling too unconventional for their liking, but I’d like to suggest that the formal qualities of the film can offer interpretive insights that will help make sense of the narrative and illuminate theological themes. Let’s just look at a couple of them.

While this is not always the case, most of Malick’s films feature the use of voice-over narration during their prologues.  Although they initially appear irrelevant to the story progression, I think that the first words spoken supply the film’s thematic framework and ground the visual juxtaposition of what some film theologians refer to as “echoes of transcendence.” In this prologue, after the passage from the book of Job fades to black, the slow emergence of an isolated flame-like shape is accompanied by the whispered utterance of the word “brother.” Without giving too much away, the word “brother” not only functions as the central relational focus of the film (as it is the catalyst for the subsequent narrative flashbacks), but also as an invitation for the viewer to consider his (or her) shared loss of innocence personally, interpersonally, and in relation to the Fall.  For the film’s jump cuts and lyrical tone collaborate to create an immersive ontological event that evokes the recollection of our own childhood experiences; thus reinforcing the notion that this particular loss of innocence is an endemic aspect of creaturely life on Earth since the beginning. But this is not a meditation in which God is absent.  Rather, by using a visual rhetoric of light suggestive of the presence of God, Malick’s aesthetic seeks to depict some of God’s immanence, transcendence, and mystery within the natural world. The additional layer of visual subtext represented by the presence of windows throughout the film offers another opportunity to contrast the omniscience of God and the myopic, temporally bound human perspective. In fact, when I think of the film’s “message” in this way, it helps me to make more sense of a cinematic structure that on the surface appears to be the joining of two largely different films.

Of course, there are many other themes and ideas that can be mined from The Tree of Life, but I hope that my brief analysis of the film has offered you another avenue for theological and philosophical engagement, and maybe even encouraged you to give the film a second viewing.


Desirée de Jesus is finishing her MA degree in Christianity & the Arts at Kings College London.  For her dissertation, she is placing the films of Stanley Kubrick in dialogue with the early Church Fathers and modern philosophers.  She is also interested in genre studies (westerns & sci-fi), film phenomenology, film theory, and star studies.



If you’ve seen the movie, how does this resonate with your interpretation?

Is there an interpretation?

What is this movie about, really?

Art and Incarnation: Mako Fujimura

We had a discussion among our staff about the art of Makoto Fujimura this morning. He’s a New Yorker. He’s a Greenwich Village artist (my old haunting grounds back in the day @ Parsons School of Design). He’s asian (yay!) And he’s a Christian. So it intrigued me to watch an emerging figure who represents two worlds I inhabit, as an Asian-American as well as a Christian within the arts. So I did some homework only to find this little endorsement here to the left that he receives from CT mag, and to find out that he’s received some accolade from some great sources. See his blog here and professional page here. So I’m thrilled for this guy who is making a statement in numerous ways – as an urbanite, a religious person, an ethnic person – just thrilled. But the one question that seemed to echo in our group was: Continue reading “Art and Incarnation: Mako Fujimura”