Perhaps the most important image from the movie Breach is prayer. “Pray more” is the answer given by Robert Hanssen, the FBI agent who was arrested in 2001 for selling information to the Soviet Union and to Russia over at least 15 years, to Eric O’Neill, the young agent recruited to aid Hanssen’s investigation, over the stress he was experiencing in his job. “Pray for me” Hanssen cries after he is caught. Indeed, Hanssen does just that, as we see him praying throughout the film, prayers that only reveal the haunted nature of his life. We are told the outcome at the beginning of the film, and so even those that don’t know the history can engage the film with a sense of doom as we watch this duplicitous character’s life unfold.
The Hanssen of the movie appears to be a deeply religious person. He attends daily mass, and speaks with disapproval on O’Neill’s comment about an attractive woman. He is deeply concerned about O’Neill’s Catholic faith and about the faith and church membership of O’Neill’s wife, a disinterested Protestant. He is devoted to his wife, loved by his grandchildren, and offers a faith that informs his conversation, and changes how he acts in his daily life. He is the model of a “good Catholic,” and a good Christian.
Of course, there is an edge to this brand of faith. He is stern in his discipline, and looks down on those that don’t share his discipline. While he would fiercely fend off various sins, he seems victim to the fundamental sin of pride. In this, he fits a Hollywood stereotype, a judgmental Christian, devoted in his faith and dismissive of lesser versions. That, of course, and the hypocrisy that underlies his very existence. For all the surface faith and practice, Hanssen is a master at betrayal. He betrays his country, selling secrets while persuading himself he is a patriot for doing so, and betraying his wife, videotaping their sexual encounters and mailing them to others, and describing their sexual encounters online. He betrays those closest to him as a matter of course, leaving us to make sense of this complex character.
The script frames the story around O’Neill’s slow discovery of these details. While Ryan Phillipe does a good job in this role, it is Chris Cooper’s Robert Hanssen that is the real interest. The movie does not want to answer the question that most of us wonder about most, that is, the question of why. Instead, we are exposed to glimpses of the duplicity and the at times conflicting reasons that Hanssen might give. He is obviously bitter at a career route that left him behind, while the ones with more personality succeeded. He reveals an arrogance about his own capabilities that his long success as a mole would seem to confirm. But in all of this, there is a captivity, as Hanssen appears haunted by something that hours of mass, prayer and confession can’t quite cure.
As I said, the Hanssen of Breach is a Hollywood stereotype, a hypocritical Christian who substitutes integrity for judgment. Of course, the challenge in the stereotype is that in this case it is largely true. The real Robert Hanssen did attend mass daily, did speak of an intensely serious faith, did betray his country for most of his 25-year career, and did betray his wife. He was a man of contradictions, contradictions that challenge us to explain this conflict.
Hanssen invites us to deepen our own understanding of duplicity. The testimony of the Christian faith is that the darkness of human sin is a universal reality. We should all expect to encounter duplicity in ourselves because we are simultaneously sinner and saint, the battleground for the war between human depravity and the redeeming work of the Holy Spirit. While Scripture testifies that this war has a clear end in the lives of Christians, it is a war that is experienced with great intensity while we endure it.
It is interesting to consider that Hanssen’s time at mass, and his apparent devotion to the church may have had little to do with a front. Is it possible that his faith was genuine? That in that time at mass or in confession, he was seeking an escape from himself? Perhaps Hanssen offers us a glimpse at the difference, once known in Christian circles but now often overlooked, between an authentic seeker and an authentic disciple. It is possible that Hanssen was the former, though the fruit in his life casts serious doubts on whether he was the latter.
We live with a temptation in the modern church of reducing faith to simple decisions and clean processes that people can follow. The problem with this, the problem that Breach exposes, is that sin is deeper than this, and can’t reliably be uprooted from the human soul through mechanistic processes. The freedom from the kind of duplicity that defines Hanssen’s life requires a supernatural work, a work that offers a far deeper vision of transformation that Hanssen ever found in his hours of devotion.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Thursday, February 8, 2007
The "Rubbish" of Culture
I returned last night from three days in Minneapolis, attending the 2007 Desiring God Pastor’s Conference, sponsored by Bethlehem Baptist Church and Desiring God Ministries (http://www.desiringgod.org/Events/PastorsConferences/2007). It was a gathering of about 1300 Calvinist pastors from a variety of denominations. When I got on the plane to head up there, it was -16 in Minneapolis. It gave me a whole new meaning of the term “Frozen chosen” (drum roll, please).
The theme was “The Holiness of God,” and featured R.C. Sproul. One of Sproul’s most popular of his 60 books is a book by the same title, so he has made the rounds for years giving talks on the theme. I’d heard him give talks on the same texts with similar themes before, but nonetheless found the time immensely encouraging. Walking among missional Calvinists like Sproul and Piper, who share a deep love for the Puritans and for the doctrines of grace, is to breath rich air. The speakers, and so many of the pastors I spoke to, emanate a love for God and a desire to see a deeper form of the faith take hold among their people. It was powerful to join in a chorus of voices from across various denominations that share a penetrating vision for their churches and their people. I certainly left encouraged.
One of the more interesting points in the week came on the last day. Each year, one of the speakers focuses on the theme of mission. This year featured William Mackenzie, a Scottish pastor who is doing a marvelous work from the UK to distribute Christian literature throughout the world. He told story after story of the power of good Christian books, and the need for people to read more, and to read more quality works. It is his passion and mission to put some of these quality works into their hands.
The fascinating point came as he offered his assessment of contemporary culture. As one might expect from an advocate for reading, one of his great enemies was television and film. He cited the current box office numbers in England for the movie Borat, and pointed the number of people who were seeing this movie. He even pointed out (shock!) that he PERSONALLY spoke to a pastor (yes, that’s a Christian pastor!) who had not only SEEN the movie, but thought it was hilarious! Hilarious, even though the movie was “rubbish!” (please fill in your best Scottish brogue to complete the experience).
How marvelous. There is nothing like hearing a Scotsman call something rubbish and mean it. While I found the rest of the talk illuminating, I pondered over this comment for awhile. He got a few “amens” on the comment, and no doubt many more were nodding their heads in agreement, but I wonder if he went for too much in his example.
I’ve seen Borat. I, too, found it hilarious. Many parts were indeed “rubbish,” though I don’t think me saying it has quite the same impact. But there was something underneath the offensive content that was provoking. In the course of his guerilla comedy, Sacha Baron Cohen provided a context for people to expose a piece of themselves they may not always want to show in public. And, in the midst of theaters full of laughter, America blushed. He exposed the xenophobia, homophobia, racism, and sexism that winds its way through our culture. These are undercurrents that rear their head at times, but perhaps don’t always get the raw kind of exposure he was able to bring out in his shocking, and at times offensive, comedy.
Mackenzie’s analysis of culture was to point out the shallowness of our culture, and the need for more reading of better books as a part of the cure. I support his prescription, but expect that there is more that is needed. Borat may actually be part of the solution, not part of the problem. There is power in comedy, and there is power in film that is simply different from the power of the written word. Ellison’s Invisible Man is certainly more profound, and offers the ability to change lives in a way Borat can’t, but Borat may provoke people to laugh at racism, or whatever “-ism” it points its finger at. Somewhere in that mockery is something that may guide people to the right place to start exposing the darker corners of their own heart to the Light.
There has been something of a renewed interest in Reformed theology over the last few decades, and it has created a rich and vibrant community of Christians who share a theological commitment and are trying to live out that commitment in their own faith communities. There is a great challenge within this community to read the works of great thinkers of the past, and to bring “dead” theology alive and let it live in this culture. I walk with them into that place, but there is a danger in this process of dismissing the culture entirely. I’m not ready to do that. The answers that the culture offers are always imperfect, and many times just complete “rubbish.” But sometimes the questions they’re asking are the right ones to be asking. That alone makes the conversation worth having.
The theme was “The Holiness of God,” and featured R.C. Sproul. One of Sproul’s most popular of his 60 books is a book by the same title, so he has made the rounds for years giving talks on the theme. I’d heard him give talks on the same texts with similar themes before, but nonetheless found the time immensely encouraging. Walking among missional Calvinists like Sproul and Piper, who share a deep love for the Puritans and for the doctrines of grace, is to breath rich air. The speakers, and so many of the pastors I spoke to, emanate a love for God and a desire to see a deeper form of the faith take hold among their people. It was powerful to join in a chorus of voices from across various denominations that share a penetrating vision for their churches and their people. I certainly left encouraged.
One of the more interesting points in the week came on the last day. Each year, one of the speakers focuses on the theme of mission. This year featured William Mackenzie, a Scottish pastor who is doing a marvelous work from the UK to distribute Christian literature throughout the world. He told story after story of the power of good Christian books, and the need for people to read more, and to read more quality works. It is his passion and mission to put some of these quality works into their hands.
The fascinating point came as he offered his assessment of contemporary culture. As one might expect from an advocate for reading, one of his great enemies was television and film. He cited the current box office numbers in England for the movie Borat, and pointed the number of people who were seeing this movie. He even pointed out (shock!) that he PERSONALLY spoke to a pastor (yes, that’s a Christian pastor!) who had not only SEEN the movie, but thought it was hilarious! Hilarious, even though the movie was “rubbish!” (please fill in your best Scottish brogue to complete the experience).
How marvelous. There is nothing like hearing a Scotsman call something rubbish and mean it. While I found the rest of the talk illuminating, I pondered over this comment for awhile. He got a few “amens” on the comment, and no doubt many more were nodding their heads in agreement, but I wonder if he went for too much in his example.
I’ve seen Borat. I, too, found it hilarious. Many parts were indeed “rubbish,” though I don’t think me saying it has quite the same impact. But there was something underneath the offensive content that was provoking. In the course of his guerilla comedy, Sacha Baron Cohen provided a context for people to expose a piece of themselves they may not always want to show in public. And, in the midst of theaters full of laughter, America blushed. He exposed the xenophobia, homophobia, racism, and sexism that winds its way through our culture. These are undercurrents that rear their head at times, but perhaps don’t always get the raw kind of exposure he was able to bring out in his shocking, and at times offensive, comedy.
Mackenzie’s analysis of culture was to point out the shallowness of our culture, and the need for more reading of better books as a part of the cure. I support his prescription, but expect that there is more that is needed. Borat may actually be part of the solution, not part of the problem. There is power in comedy, and there is power in film that is simply different from the power of the written word. Ellison’s Invisible Man is certainly more profound, and offers the ability to change lives in a way Borat can’t, but Borat may provoke people to laugh at racism, or whatever “-ism” it points its finger at. Somewhere in that mockery is something that may guide people to the right place to start exposing the darker corners of their own heart to the Light.
There has been something of a renewed interest in Reformed theology over the last few decades, and it has created a rich and vibrant community of Christians who share a theological commitment and are trying to live out that commitment in their own faith communities. There is a great challenge within this community to read the works of great thinkers of the past, and to bring “dead” theology alive and let it live in this culture. I walk with them into that place, but there is a danger in this process of dismissing the culture entirely. I’m not ready to do that. The answers that the culture offers are always imperfect, and many times just complete “rubbish.” But sometimes the questions they’re asking are the right ones to be asking. That alone makes the conversation worth having.
Friday, February 2, 2007
Broken Trail: A Review
“Never judge wealth with money.” - Prentice Ritter
It is a dangerous to typecast an actor with as storied and diverse career as Robert Duvall. Nonetheless, his work in Broken Trail, a movie/mini-series produced by AMC for its cable station, is a significant contribution to a body of work that have included rich characters that embody grace. His Oscar-winning performance in Tender Mercies as Mac Sledge, an alcoholic country music singer, gave us a man who finds peace and healing in the quiet ministry of grace through a gentle Christian woman and her son. He gave us a powerful statement of the way grace can work its way into the most flawed of lives through the character of Sonny “The Apostle” Dewey, a murderer/adulterer/preacher who somehow finds himself back in conversation with the God that he continues to let down. Now, he gives us Prentice Ritter, a turn-of-the-century cowboy, who embodies a tale of grace that is rare and noteworthy in contemporary cinema.
The story begins in California, with Prentice showing up at a ranch where his nephew Tom, played with elegance by Thomas Haden Church, is working as a hand. He tells him that his mother has died, and that she, for reasons we learn over time, has left the farm and all of her modest wealth to Prentice. He makes a proposition, borrowing money against the farm to purchase a herd of young horses to drive to Wyoming, where a buyer waits with the promise of a rich reward. Tom agrees, and they set out on their ride across the rugged West.
Their journey is interrupted by another traveller, this one a mercenary who is carrying five young Chinese girls who have been purchased in the underground slave market of California. They are making their way to a small mining town, where they will become a lucrative part of the prostitution business of “Big Rump Kate” (certainly one of the great names of recent film).
Through a series of events, “Uncle Prentice” and Tom free the girls, and so the journey begins in earnest, as what was once a business venture becomes a string of interruptions, where they encounter one challenge after another. It is Ritter’s response to these interruptions that not only form the life of the movie’s dramatic tensions, but also reveal his true heart. Playing true to the cowboy stereotype, Ritter says so little, it can at times seem hard to understand what is going on in his head. But his actions speak true, and over time we see him unwittingly building a family. When given the opportunity to go with the law, the girls beg him not to turn them over, instead wanting to stay with him.
Others enter into this family, including a wounded prostitute played by Greta Scacchi, who gives us a tired woman, weary from her personal trail of tears. It is in the presence of Prentice that she begins to find renewed hope, and life that did not seem possible.
The story avoids many of the cliches it could have followed, but the power in the adventure lies centrally in Duvall’s performance and the character of Prentice Ritter. He is a man who treats the “slings and arrows” that life throws his way as opportunities, and with the simple consistent response of a wise kindness, he brings life, and turns strangers into friends and family, then changes their lives for the better.
Ritter carries his own wounds, and even as we see those revealed, they only serve to enhance our admiration for the grace that has survived and thrived in him despite, and perhaps at times because of, the sorrow that life has brought him. He at times clings to that sorrow, which robs him of joy that he could otherwise have known. And so we see his weakness, and we are reminded of his humanity. But grace can thrive even in flawed people, and Ritter becomes a great testament to that truth.
It has been awhile since we’ve seen a powerful Western. This is perhaps the best since Eastwood’s Unforgiven, and each are in their own way offering a challenge to the American Western monomyth that often celebrates rugged individualism and the power of a “justice of vengeance.” Ritter moves through this tough land with a wisdom that allows him to survive. But he rises above his world, and somehow still has a heart that survives the ravages of the Western sun.
The stories that we saw of Mac and Sonny allowed us to focus on their challenges and the ways in which they experienced redemption in the midst of their mistakes. Ritter’s story shows us a life that is pouring out grace to others. He draws people to himself by emanating this kindness. Indeed, he is in many ways the kind of person that I want to be.
Broken Trail is a movie that deserves to rise above its genre, and certainly rises far above what we normally expect from a cable television mini-series. Most importantly, it offers yet another extraordinary example of what a life transformed by Christ looks like. Duvall, regardless of his own personal faith commitments, has given us at least three of these examples. We are richer because he has done so.
It is a dangerous to typecast an actor with as storied and diverse career as Robert Duvall. Nonetheless, his work in Broken Trail, a movie/mini-series produced by AMC for its cable station, is a significant contribution to a body of work that have included rich characters that embody grace. His Oscar-winning performance in Tender Mercies as Mac Sledge, an alcoholic country music singer, gave us a man who finds peace and healing in the quiet ministry of grace through a gentle Christian woman and her son. He gave us a powerful statement of the way grace can work its way into the most flawed of lives through the character of Sonny “The Apostle” Dewey, a murderer/adulterer/preacher who somehow finds himself back in conversation with the God that he continues to let down. Now, he gives us Prentice Ritter, a turn-of-the-century cowboy, who embodies a tale of grace that is rare and noteworthy in contemporary cinema.
The story begins in California, with Prentice showing up at a ranch where his nephew Tom, played with elegance by Thomas Haden Church, is working as a hand. He tells him that his mother has died, and that she, for reasons we learn over time, has left the farm and all of her modest wealth to Prentice. He makes a proposition, borrowing money against the farm to purchase a herd of young horses to drive to Wyoming, where a buyer waits with the promise of a rich reward. Tom agrees, and they set out on their ride across the rugged West.
Their journey is interrupted by another traveller, this one a mercenary who is carrying five young Chinese girls who have been purchased in the underground slave market of California. They are making their way to a small mining town, where they will become a lucrative part of the prostitution business of “Big Rump Kate” (certainly one of the great names of recent film).
Through a series of events, “Uncle Prentice” and Tom free the girls, and so the journey begins in earnest, as what was once a business venture becomes a string of interruptions, where they encounter one challenge after another. It is Ritter’s response to these interruptions that not only form the life of the movie’s dramatic tensions, but also reveal his true heart. Playing true to the cowboy stereotype, Ritter says so little, it can at times seem hard to understand what is going on in his head. But his actions speak true, and over time we see him unwittingly building a family. When given the opportunity to go with the law, the girls beg him not to turn them over, instead wanting to stay with him.
Others enter into this family, including a wounded prostitute played by Greta Scacchi, who gives us a tired woman, weary from her personal trail of tears. It is in the presence of Prentice that she begins to find renewed hope, and life that did not seem possible.
The story avoids many of the cliches it could have followed, but the power in the adventure lies centrally in Duvall’s performance and the character of Prentice Ritter. He is a man who treats the “slings and arrows” that life throws his way as opportunities, and with the simple consistent response of a wise kindness, he brings life, and turns strangers into friends and family, then changes their lives for the better.
Ritter carries his own wounds, and even as we see those revealed, they only serve to enhance our admiration for the grace that has survived and thrived in him despite, and perhaps at times because of, the sorrow that life has brought him. He at times clings to that sorrow, which robs him of joy that he could otherwise have known. And so we see his weakness, and we are reminded of his humanity. But grace can thrive even in flawed people, and Ritter becomes a great testament to that truth.
It has been awhile since we’ve seen a powerful Western. This is perhaps the best since Eastwood’s Unforgiven, and each are in their own way offering a challenge to the American Western monomyth that often celebrates rugged individualism and the power of a “justice of vengeance.” Ritter moves through this tough land with a wisdom that allows him to survive. But he rises above his world, and somehow still has a heart that survives the ravages of the Western sun.
The stories that we saw of Mac and Sonny allowed us to focus on their challenges and the ways in which they experienced redemption in the midst of their mistakes. Ritter’s story shows us a life that is pouring out grace to others. He draws people to himself by emanating this kindness. Indeed, he is in many ways the kind of person that I want to be.
Broken Trail is a movie that deserves to rise above its genre, and certainly rises far above what we normally expect from a cable television mini-series. Most importantly, it offers yet another extraordinary example of what a life transformed by Christ looks like. Duvall, regardless of his own personal faith commitments, has given us at least three of these examples. We are richer because he has done so.
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