I didn't have a chance to publicly give thanks yesterday so I thought I'd post a few thoughts. I am so fortunate and I would feel selfish not to recognize my blessings.
Lately as I have been walking around campus I have been extremely grateful for the opportunity to go to BYU. It is one of the best schools in the world and after attending two other universities I can say it is the best school for me. There are many sheltered people here but their goodness and innocence make them a joy to be around (even if I don't relate to them very well). The professors here are nothing short of miraculous--all fusing their great enthusiasm and knowledge with a spiritual dimension that puts it all in perspective. As I walk with my tens of thousands of cohorts to the devotional every Tuesday I feel close to Heavenly Father.
I am also grateful to live so near two of my best friends: my siblings Jared and Brooke. They are smart, funny, and passionate. They always try to do what's right and their example and support has helped me as I try to better myself. I can't wait 'til Aaron moves to Utah!
I am grateful for my parents who are also two of my best friends. Mom helps me figure out girl problems and dad is there to share enthusiasm for my various pursuits. I'm thankful for their wisdom and their example.
I'm thankful for Jesus Christ and the genuine happiness He afforded me by performing the atonement. I'm not perfect but his sacrifice made it so I can let go of my mistakes--an essential step in improvement.
I'm thankful for the knowledge I have that Christ's church has been restored to the earth after centuries of being lost. I'm thankful to live in a time when God once again speaks to us through a living prophet.
Friday, November 27, 2009
Friday, October 2, 2009
Two thoughts on art
I've been thinking a lot lately about different definitions of art and a good one struck me this morning while I was listening to my new Grizzly Bear CD. So here goes:
Art is an expression for expression's sake.
Under this definition yelling at someone in a traffic jam would be an expression, but for the purpose of changing another person's behavior, and therefore not art. A song about the frustration of traffic jams (such as James Taylor's "Traffic Jam") would be art because it is an expression for no other reason than to express.
There are many things that have artistic and didactic elements, such as a well-illustrated children's book that teaches how to care for a pet or an eloquently worded political speech.
Which brings me to thought #2
I used to have a problem with art that requires an explanation. My thought was "If you can sum up the meaning of a piece in words, then why does it exist in the first place?!" This view has led to several passionate debates with my siblings.
Well, I have changed my tune. I now would like to submit that there are two models to which an artist can ascribe. In the cases where an explanation is required to fully appreciate a work, essentially the artist is presenting the work itself along with its explanation, for one cannot exist without the other.
The other model, which I find myself partial to, is when an artist presents nothing but the work itself. Extreme adherence to this model would mean that artists offer no further explanation and those who get pleasure from interpreting and writing about such works would be missing the mark. Such an artist would respond to questions about the "meaning" of the piece by simply saying "It means what it is" and leaving it at that. After all, if it could be expressed in another way, there would be no reason to make it in the first place.
Art is an expression for expression's sake.
Under this definition yelling at someone in a traffic jam would be an expression, but for the purpose of changing another person's behavior, and therefore not art. A song about the frustration of traffic jams (such as James Taylor's "Traffic Jam") would be art because it is an expression for no other reason than to express.
There are many things that have artistic and didactic elements, such as a well-illustrated children's book that teaches how to care for a pet or an eloquently worded political speech.
Which brings me to thought #2
I used to have a problem with art that requires an explanation. My thought was "If you can sum up the meaning of a piece in words, then why does it exist in the first place?!" This view has led to several passionate debates with my siblings.
Well, I have changed my tune. I now would like to submit that there are two models to which an artist can ascribe. In the cases where an explanation is required to fully appreciate a work, essentially the artist is presenting the work itself along with its explanation, for one cannot exist without the other.
The other model, which I find myself partial to, is when an artist presents nothing but the work itself. Extreme adherence to this model would mean that artists offer no further explanation and those who get pleasure from interpreting and writing about such works would be missing the mark. Such an artist would respond to questions about the "meaning" of the piece by simply saying "It means what it is" and leaving it at that. After all, if it could be expressed in another way, there would be no reason to make it in the first place.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
A Word of Introduction
So this is my blog. My past blogging attempts have failed because my focus was too narrow. So now I'm throwing out all the rules and starting fresh. I will be writing about whatever I want, whenever I want.
I would love it if my awesome, brilliant, existentially-constipated blogger friends (you know who you are) would comment frequently and passionately. I hope such an online discourse will be a laxative to our souls!
Now, a note on my first real post. This is a paper I wrote for my Writing class. It is directed toward a Mormon audience but I think it could be interesting to any entertainment consumer. My future posts will be more directed toward all of you whom I hope will become at least occasional readers.
Please challenge my assertions in this paper. Seeing as this subject overlaps with what I hope to make my life's work, I will be exploring these ideas with more depth throughout this blog.
I would love it if my awesome, brilliant, existentially-constipated blogger friends (you know who you are) would comment frequently and passionately. I hope such an online discourse will be a laxative to our souls!
Now, a note on my first real post. This is a paper I wrote for my Writing class. It is directed toward a Mormon audience but I think it could be interesting to any entertainment consumer. My future posts will be more directed toward all of you whom I hope will become at least occasional readers.
Please challenge my assertions in this paper. Seeing as this subject overlaps with what I hope to make my life's work, I will be exploring these ideas with more depth throughout this blog.
The LDS Filmmaker as Cultural Crusader
When asked their opinion on the Mormon film industry, most would respond without enthusiasm. Although more people are watching films made by and about Latter-day Saints, the unfortunate truth is that such films are widely considered to be generally of poor quality; cheesy, unrealistic, and preachy. Optimists may overlook these flaws as the necessary baby steps of a burgeoning industry. The truth is, however, that Mormonism has been on the silver screen, in a variety of forms, almost since the very first motion picture. In many respects it has taken backward steps, losing the ability to give its audience what they truly yearn for. Only a thorough reexamination of the creation process followed by a dramatic realignment of artistic priorities can lead to a viable Mormon Cinema.
It may surprise many to learn that there once was a movie made by a major motion picture studio about a modern Mormon prophet. Brigham Young, released in 1940, starred two of Twentieth Century Fox’s biggest stars and was the largest world premiere in Hollywood history to that point. The film was met with critical acclaim and earned a handsome sum at the box office. Although it contained many historical inaccuracies, it portrayed the pioneer prophet with respect and reverence (Astle 50). Why, one might wonder, have there been no Mormon films of comparable significance since?
It’s true such a religious-themed film would never get the green light in today’s Hollywood because of their antipathy toward traditional morality. But this is only half the answer.
Most Latter-day Saints will leap to the conclusion that because of the moral decline of recent generations there is no longer a market for elevating art. This view is more readily accepted by members of the church who see it as the fulfilling of biblical prophecy which forecasts a period of unprecedented iniquity preceding the Second Coming of Jesus Christ. This alarmism is flatly contradicted by history, as well as today’s reality, and too often results in a defeatist attitude. This attitude squelches the kind of social activism that has initiated so much positive change in past revivals.
Things Aren't So Bad
Nearly every generation sees itself as representing an all-time moral low. Historian and social commentator Michael Medved does an excellent job at putting this history of self-abasement into perspective in the final chapter of his book The 10 Big Lies About America. He points out that preacher and Princeton president Jonathan Edwards noted with an urgency reminiscent of modern-day doom-sayers that the 1730s were “a far more degenerate time than ever before” (236). Similar sentiments have been expressed in every generation since. An examination of the history of conservative rhetoric would imply a history of unwavering moral decline, with the past always exonerated as “the good ol’ days.” Medved comes to the conclusion that “when it comes to measures of morality, it would be more accurate to say that America has experienced a dizzying roller coaster of steep ups and downs, zigzags, climbs and reverses, and even loop-the-loops” (239).
Think for example how citizens decried the Bill Clinton, Monica Lewinski scandal as the mark of a new low in the moral fiber of public officials. Medved points out that when considering that of this nation’s founding fathers one fathered an illegitimate child (Benjamin Franklin), one initiated a secret romance with his thirteen-year-old slave (Thomas Jefferson), one paid blackmail to preserve his affair with a married woman (Alexander Hamilton), and one had a string of passionate extramarital escapades (Aaron Burr), we see that although the current state may be deplorable, it is far from unprecedented (237).
Those church members who take perverse pleasure in lamenting our current social climate overlook the many indications that we may in fact be experiencing another revival. Peter Wehner and Yuval Levin published an article on drug trends in Commentary magazine which found: “Teenage drug use, which moved relentlessly upward throughout the 1990s, declined thereafter by an impressive 23 percent, and for a number of specific drugs it has fallen still lower. Thus, the use of Ecstacy and LSD has dropped by over 50 percent, of methamphetamine by almost as much, and of steroids by over 20 percent… Teen use of alcohol has fallen sharply since 1996—anywhere from 10 to 35 percent, depending on the grade in school—and binge drinking has dropped to the lowest levels ever recorded. The same is true of teens reporting that they smoke cigarettes daily” (2).
And what’s the status of the much publicized “sexual revolution” with its “hook-up culture” of disaffected youth? The Associated Press summarized the findings of a recent report done by the National Center for Health Statistics in July of 2007 which found: “Fewer high school students are having sex these days, and more are using condoms. The teen birth rate has hit a record low. More young people are finishing high school, too, and more little kids are being read to.” In 1991, 54 percent of high school students reported having had sexual intercourse. By 2005 that had dropped to 47 percent (“Fewer” 1).
And what of the purported “secularization of America”? The Gallop Organization’s “Index of Leading Religious Indicators,” which measures a number of factors including belief in God, the importance of religion in lives etc. reported a 20 point increase since 1996 (“Congregational” 1).
So why so much gloom and doom if we’re in such good moral standing? Partially it’s because, although things are getting better, they are still pretty bad. But mostly people have a sense of moral decline because of the rift that has developed between Hollywood’s values and American values. If all people see in entertainment is dysfunctional families, wide-spread drug use and rampant disregard for all things sacred, it doesn’t matter if all the evidence they see in their immediate surroundings contradicts it, they are going to perceive the world as degenerate. The media creates our worldview and in modern times we are being fed stories that have less and less resemblance to reality. Even as sexual promiscuity declines, depictions of sexual promiscuity on television and in the movies are increasing (Lichter 25-28). In fact, the one attribute of this generation that genuinely is unprecedented is the public nature of vices which in previous generations, although in many cases just as rampant, were kept out of public light.
Where's the Hope?
While hope is lauded in the church as a valuable personal trait, it is rarely applied to the world in general. If asked what they project the moral state of America will be in twenty years, most church members will likely paint a dark picture of widespread sin to an extent we cannot currently fathom. The implication is “We can’t do anything to change it so we might as well just protect ourselves” all the while growing increasingly isolated. History proves, however, the possibility of moral progress. If Latter-day Saints can picture a future more virtuous than the present (which would follow current trends) they will be more motivated to adopt the tone of the great moral crusaders of the past.
Here’s where the movies come in. Because of Hollywood’s cultural distance from mainstream America, motion picture attendance is at a lower percentage of our population than ever before (Medved, Hollywood xviii). That is not to say, however, that it has no influence. The relationship between the media and society can best be understood as a chicken-and-egg phenomenon; that is, film plays a role in shaping society and vice versa. Mormon filmmakers have a great opportunity to be a force for good in this cycle. If they can see the world as it truly is and how it can become, LDS movie makers will be more likely to make honest art that contributes to the de-secularization of America.
Exactly zero percent of the top ten highest grossing movies of 2008 were rated-R. Despite the fact that G-rated movies consistently make the most money followed by PG, PG-13, with Rs making the least, Hollywood pathologically pumps out over fifty percent Rs (Medved, Hollywood 285). This discredits once-and-for-all the excuse “we just give the people what they want” that Hollywood producers would use to exonerate themselves of responsibility for their films’ content. It also points to the existence of a market for more wholesome entertainment that is not currently being taken advantage of.
Take, for example, Napoleon Dynamite, written and directed by Latter-day Saint Jared Hess. Its comedic style exactly mimics that of Wes Anderson’s films. This low-budget, independent movie with absolutely no star power earned more in the box office than Anderson’s Bottle Rocket, Rushmore, and The Life Aquatic put together. Despite the three Anderson films achieving greater critical recognition as well as boasting a star-studded cast that almost puts Ocean’s Eleven to shame, more people chose to see the PG-rated imitation.
The widening gap between Hollywood’s worldview and that of the average American demonstrates the error inherent in the notion that Mormon filmmakers should endeavor to “counteract” such distortions with overly-purile movies, thus canceling out the smut. Making a film that more accurately portrays reality would naturally be more wholesome. It would also make more money.
The only thing preventing conservative filmmakers from tapping into this market is their own lack of honesty.
Doing What Hollywouldn't
Most Latter-day Saints who decide to go into film fall into one of two categories. They either attempt to distinguish themselves from the Mormon Film Industry by blending in with Hollywood (in a way that hopefully doesn’t result in too many moral compromises)—OR—they launch on all-out attack on Hollywood in an attempt to change the world. Although the latter may be seen as more honorable, both modes of operation are flawed in that they are equally defined by Hollywood.
It’s like in high school. There were the popular kids and the rebels. The popular kids wore nice basketball shoes because that’s what the majority was doing. The rebels wore beat-up Converses because that’s what the majority was not doing. Both were equally defined by the whim of the masses. And the problem with being defined by external forces is that it results in movies that don’t aspire to be good, but simply not to be bad.
Conservative film-goers who are tired of being constantly offended by the latest blockbuster are more likely to settle for mediocrity when watching, for example, a Mormon comedy that’s biggest appeal is that it is not dirty. While no one tries to make a mediocre movie, the creators of such distinctly Mormon films may unknowingly be holding themselves to a lower artistic standard. The creative process, in such cases, is necessarily censored and all ideas are judged by the degree to which they resemble the world instead of being judged by their truth, interest, potency, or authenticity.
Then there are those who have noticed this tolerance for mediocrity and seek out more secular projects which, although probably not matching their moral standards, come much closer to matching their artistic standards. This cognitive dissonance can only be relieved either by lying—that is, making films that don’t accurately portray what they believe—or by simply changing what they believe. A few, without naming names, have chosen the latter and sadly have fallen away from the church. But those who stay true to the faith “under the radar” in Hollywood (and the place is crawling with ‘em) face essentially the same obstacle as those who rebel against Hollywood. Their creative process is stymied because every idea must first be judged on whether or not it conforms to the (sheltered) world-view of Hollywood, rather than on its worth.
Latter-day Saints of all people should know what it means to truly stand apart and define themselves. After-all, when it comes to doctrine, the church claims to be the soul possessor of the whole Gospel of Jesus Christ. The Catholics, according to this belief, have distorted the truth. The various Protestant churches defined themselves as rejections of Catholic dogma and therefore are merely reactionary. Just as the church identifies truth independently of outside influences, Mormon filmmakers should extract ideas directly from personal experience and inject them into their creations.
This is not to say that knowledge of the conventions of film is not essential to speaking the language of film effectively. It is. But these conventions should be considered as a reference guide and should not hinder the creation of unique modes of artistic expression. Such a liberation would result in films that give the audience feelings they have never felt before, and explore insights formerly unexplored on film; insights that only a Latter-day Saints could provide.
Where's the Honesty?
Honesty means telling the truth as you understand it. When a person with no ill intention tells what he believes to be true, but happens to be incorrect, his is still being honest. This is an important distinction because the main business of fiction is to explore truths that are rarely agreed upon. For example, a filmmaker could show murder as morally admirable and although many would reject such a “truth” as false, if he believes it he is being honest. An honest filmmaker is one who portrays the world as he truly believes it to be.
People are willing to watch movies that challenge their values because they recognize in them a level of honesty few Mormon filmmakers have been able to achieve. For example: research shows that 40 percent of people who have premarital sex later regret it and only eight percent of those who wait until marriage regret the decision or even report lower sexual satisfaction during their life of voluntary monogamy (“Guilt” 13). But because big-shot movie moguls live in a community cut off from average America, they see monogamy as inconsistent with personal fulfillment and consider saving oneself for marriage laughably puritanical if not impossible. Because they are so thoroughly convinced that this is true, when they create worlds that echo this belief, it rings true to the audience and is therefore compelling.
LDS filmmakers, on the other hand, have a worldview just as rich and complex as those in Hollywood, but they are unwilling to explore it. This unintentional dishonesty is the result of equating portraying evil with advocating it. Because everyone’s world-view includes attitudes about evil, no artist can be truly honest without dealing with it.
Brigham Young once admonished the saints to “study not only good, and its effects on our race, but evil, and its consequences” (Young 93). Because stories teach by putting forth human examples, it is not uncommon for a depiction of evil to be good and for a depiction of righteousness to be bad. Showing a character experience negative consequences after sinning is likely to lead the audience to avoid sin, therefore such a depiction is perfectly ethical. Fiction author Orson Scott Card notes in his book A Storyteller in Zion that Mormon art “often shows goodness to be puerile, or impossible, or—heaven forbid—boring.” He further proposes that “a gooey G-rated film that reduces goodness to niceness does as much harm as an R-rated film that makes evil seem rewarding, since both will move an audience to shun the good and espouse the evil” (102).
But judging a film’s content can be trickier than merely identifying the good-guys and bad-guys and then comparing the results of their actions to one’s own beliefs. In many films, as in life, each character has a complex combination of good and evil. A much more pervasive phobia among Latter-day Saint artists than portraying evil is portraying ambiguity. While many things in life can be appropriately labeled as black or white, many others can only be classified as gray. Card commented on the error of avoiding such “grays”:
“The problem with this is Plato’s old error that showing a good man doing something bad is bad, for it corrupts the morals of those watching. If art only showed good men doing good and bad men doing bad, it would have no correspondence with reality, because there is no such thing as a wholly bad man... If Latter-day Saints look into themselves and see, as most will see, that they are basically good people trying to do right, and if upon realizing that they conclude that they are thus incapable of doing wrong because no storyteller has ever admitted to them that well-meaning people err, then the artist has reneged his responsibility and his audience is less moral, not more… They will no longer seek to repent of their own sins, but rather endeavor to make all other people identical to themselves” (101-102)
Because films tell stories visually, they must also be considered in terms of their aesthetic morality. For example, a husband and wife making love is a wonderful event but it’s portrayal on screen can be immoral if it is too graphic because it destroys the most special part of such an act: its private intimacy. A PG-rated adventure movie that shows violence as frivolous and cool can have a more harmful effect than a graphic war movie that shows violence as devastating.
The fact is an honest movie will affect different people in different ways. This is another reason LDS filmmakers tend to avoid honesty. They want to make films they can be sure will affect everyone for good. “How,” so the logic goes, “could I make an honest movie about what I learned from my dear grandma’s life when she smoked to her dying day? What if someone after watching my film takes up smoking, even though my intention was to paint a picture of getting over a lost spouse?” Such a concern does not recognize the responsibility of the audience for their own reaction. As Card put it: “We never know which book (or film), which offends us, might contain that shred of truth that leads another person that much closer to happiness” (94). The audience must come to understand that watching a movie requires the same level of active participation as forming experiences in real life.
Film scholar and BYU professor Sharon Swenson described the implications of such active participation: “In watching a film, we co-create meanings with the filmmaker… Meaning lies in a shared space held by the spectator who connects with his or her own values as well as those of the creator through the experience of the book or film” (Swenson 252). If filmmakers can recognize the potential for their films to provide the audience with such an experience, they will not shy away from portraying life how they really see it, with its occasional nicotine-dependent grandma. Such honest storytelling will inevitably open the door to misinterpretation, but will gain the ability to add to the audience member’s pool of life experience. It is worth the trade off.
This phenomenological perspective demonstrates a problem with making films that are overly didactic. Prepackaging the meaning of a film denies the audience the opportunity to think critically and be a “co-creator” of the film’s meaning.
Film theorist John Gardner wrote in his book On Moral Fiction: “Didacticism and true art are immiscible; and in any case, nothing guarantees that didacticism will be moral. Think of Mein Kampf. True art is by its nature moral” (19). In sermons, honesty is sacrificed for eternal truth. The preacher does not have to be perfect to present a perfect message. Film however, because of its nature, must be as flawed as its author in order to be honest. The amount of soul-searching this process mandates may raise fear in some of uncovering dark inclinations they would rather remain hidden. But watching the honest film of such a flawed person is no more detrimental than spending time with that individual would be. And while the filmmaker’s imperfect nature will inevitably come through in his work, so too will his beliefs. Card noted about his own writings:
“I believe that such expressions of faith, unconsciously placed within a story, are the most honest and also most powerful messages a writer can give; they are, in essence, the expression of the author’s conceived universe, and the reader who believes and cares about the story will dwell, for a time, in the author’s world and receive powerful vicarious memories that become part of the reader’s own” (159).
The filmmaker whose main goal is to perpetuate a message will find it very difficult to create a believable story the audience can care about. The reason for film’s existence in the first place is to communicate that which cannot be stated outright. A movie that merely attempts to teach that a behavior is good or bad is like an airplane that merely buggies luggage to and fro without leaving the runway. The experience of a film is not just a costume for discourse to masquerade in. The experience of a film is in-and-of-itself valuable.
Filmmakers should instead start with an idea for a character or a situation. As the plot develops, at every turn the author should ask himself “What do I honestly believe would be the consequences of these actions? What would the character do in this situation?” It is the sincere contemplation of questions like these that determines the honesty of a movie. A story that grows naturally from its characters can have multiple layers of meaning, some of which the author may not even be aware of, because it takes place in a world as fully conceived as our own. Allegiance to the film’s message before the characters is likely to lead the filmmaker to change or water-down his honest answers to these soul-searching questions if they are perceived as interfering with that message. Such distorted characterizations are present to an excruciating degree in the vast majority of Mormon films. The result is movies that promote truths that feel like lies, rendering them impotent in truly touching people.
A Call to Action
The human race needs stories to survive. No culture has ever existed without storytelling in some form. The insights into our own nature which film has the potential to provide, with unique resemblance to real human experience, can be gained from no other source. A tired American public, desperate for stories that ring true, has been forced to get their filmic nourishment from hostile territory. They will continue to do so until Mormon filmmakers rise to the occasion, stop making excuses, and produce compelling works of honesty and integrity. We can’t make good filmmakers better people, but we can make good people better filmmakers.
Works Cited
Astle, Randy, and Gideon O. Burton. “A History of Mormon Cinema.” BYU Studies Vol. 46
No. 2 (2007): 49-50.
Medved, Michael. The Ten Big Lies About America. New York: Crown Forum, 2008.
Wehner, Peter, and Yuval Levin. “Crime, Drugs, Welfare—and Other Good News.”
Commentary. December 2007.
Associated Press. “Fewer High School Students Are Having Sex.” July 13, 2007.
Gallop Organization. “Congregational Engagement Ascends.” February 15, 2005.
Lichter, S. Robert, Linda S. Lichter and Stanley Rothman. “Watching America.” January 1992.
Medved, Michael. Hollywood Vs. America. New York: HarperCollins, 1992.
“Guilt and regret despite sexual revolution.” Nutrition Health Review Issue 55. 1990.
Young, Brigham. Journal of Discourses, 26 vols. Liverpool: F. D. Richards. February 6, 1853.
Card, Orson Scott. A Storyteller in Zion. Salt Lake City: Bookcraft. 1993
Swenson, Sharon. “Active Spectatorship: Spiritual Dimensions of Film.” BYU Studies Vol. 46 No. 2 (2007): 247-256.
Gardner, John. On Moral Fiction. New York: Basic Books, 1992.
It may surprise many to learn that there once was a movie made by a major motion picture studio about a modern Mormon prophet. Brigham Young, released in 1940, starred two of Twentieth Century Fox’s biggest stars and was the largest world premiere in Hollywood history to that point. The film was met with critical acclaim and earned a handsome sum at the box office. Although it contained many historical inaccuracies, it portrayed the pioneer prophet with respect and reverence (Astle 50). Why, one might wonder, have there been no Mormon films of comparable significance since?
It’s true such a religious-themed film would never get the green light in today’s Hollywood because of their antipathy toward traditional morality. But this is only half the answer.
Most Latter-day Saints will leap to the conclusion that because of the moral decline of recent generations there is no longer a market for elevating art. This view is more readily accepted by members of the church who see it as the fulfilling of biblical prophecy which forecasts a period of unprecedented iniquity preceding the Second Coming of Jesus Christ. This alarmism is flatly contradicted by history, as well as today’s reality, and too often results in a defeatist attitude. This attitude squelches the kind of social activism that has initiated so much positive change in past revivals.
Things Aren't So Bad
Nearly every generation sees itself as representing an all-time moral low. Historian and social commentator Michael Medved does an excellent job at putting this history of self-abasement into perspective in the final chapter of his book The 10 Big Lies About America. He points out that preacher and Princeton president Jonathan Edwards noted with an urgency reminiscent of modern-day doom-sayers that the 1730s were “a far more degenerate time than ever before” (236). Similar sentiments have been expressed in every generation since. An examination of the history of conservative rhetoric would imply a history of unwavering moral decline, with the past always exonerated as “the good ol’ days.” Medved comes to the conclusion that “when it comes to measures of morality, it would be more accurate to say that America has experienced a dizzying roller coaster of steep ups and downs, zigzags, climbs and reverses, and even loop-the-loops” (239).
Think for example how citizens decried the Bill Clinton, Monica Lewinski scandal as the mark of a new low in the moral fiber of public officials. Medved points out that when considering that of this nation’s founding fathers one fathered an illegitimate child (Benjamin Franklin), one initiated a secret romance with his thirteen-year-old slave (Thomas Jefferson), one paid blackmail to preserve his affair with a married woman (Alexander Hamilton), and one had a string of passionate extramarital escapades (Aaron Burr), we see that although the current state may be deplorable, it is far from unprecedented (237).
Those church members who take perverse pleasure in lamenting our current social climate overlook the many indications that we may in fact be experiencing another revival. Peter Wehner and Yuval Levin published an article on drug trends in Commentary magazine which found: “Teenage drug use, which moved relentlessly upward throughout the 1990s, declined thereafter by an impressive 23 percent, and for a number of specific drugs it has fallen still lower. Thus, the use of Ecstacy and LSD has dropped by over 50 percent, of methamphetamine by almost as much, and of steroids by over 20 percent… Teen use of alcohol has fallen sharply since 1996—anywhere from 10 to 35 percent, depending on the grade in school—and binge drinking has dropped to the lowest levels ever recorded. The same is true of teens reporting that they smoke cigarettes daily” (2).
And what’s the status of the much publicized “sexual revolution” with its “hook-up culture” of disaffected youth? The Associated Press summarized the findings of a recent report done by the National Center for Health Statistics in July of 2007 which found: “Fewer high school students are having sex these days, and more are using condoms. The teen birth rate has hit a record low. More young people are finishing high school, too, and more little kids are being read to.” In 1991, 54 percent of high school students reported having had sexual intercourse. By 2005 that had dropped to 47 percent (“Fewer” 1).
And what of the purported “secularization of America”? The Gallop Organization’s “Index of Leading Religious Indicators,” which measures a number of factors including belief in God, the importance of religion in lives etc. reported a 20 point increase since 1996 (“Congregational” 1).
So why so much gloom and doom if we’re in such good moral standing? Partially it’s because, although things are getting better, they are still pretty bad. But mostly people have a sense of moral decline because of the rift that has developed between Hollywood’s values and American values. If all people see in entertainment is dysfunctional families, wide-spread drug use and rampant disregard for all things sacred, it doesn’t matter if all the evidence they see in their immediate surroundings contradicts it, they are going to perceive the world as degenerate. The media creates our worldview and in modern times we are being fed stories that have less and less resemblance to reality. Even as sexual promiscuity declines, depictions of sexual promiscuity on television and in the movies are increasing (Lichter 25-28). In fact, the one attribute of this generation that genuinely is unprecedented is the public nature of vices which in previous generations, although in many cases just as rampant, were kept out of public light.
Where's the Hope?
While hope is lauded in the church as a valuable personal trait, it is rarely applied to the world in general. If asked what they project the moral state of America will be in twenty years, most church members will likely paint a dark picture of widespread sin to an extent we cannot currently fathom. The implication is “We can’t do anything to change it so we might as well just protect ourselves” all the while growing increasingly isolated. History proves, however, the possibility of moral progress. If Latter-day Saints can picture a future more virtuous than the present (which would follow current trends) they will be more motivated to adopt the tone of the great moral crusaders of the past.
Here’s where the movies come in. Because of Hollywood’s cultural distance from mainstream America, motion picture attendance is at a lower percentage of our population than ever before (Medved, Hollywood xviii). That is not to say, however, that it has no influence. The relationship between the media and society can best be understood as a chicken-and-egg phenomenon; that is, film plays a role in shaping society and vice versa. Mormon filmmakers have a great opportunity to be a force for good in this cycle. If they can see the world as it truly is and how it can become, LDS movie makers will be more likely to make honest art that contributes to the de-secularization of America.
Exactly zero percent of the top ten highest grossing movies of 2008 were rated-R. Despite the fact that G-rated movies consistently make the most money followed by PG, PG-13, with Rs making the least, Hollywood pathologically pumps out over fifty percent Rs (Medved, Hollywood 285). This discredits once-and-for-all the excuse “we just give the people what they want” that Hollywood producers would use to exonerate themselves of responsibility for their films’ content. It also points to the existence of a market for more wholesome entertainment that is not currently being taken advantage of.
Take, for example, Napoleon Dynamite, written and directed by Latter-day Saint Jared Hess. Its comedic style exactly mimics that of Wes Anderson’s films. This low-budget, independent movie with absolutely no star power earned more in the box office than Anderson’s Bottle Rocket, Rushmore, and The Life Aquatic put together. Despite the three Anderson films achieving greater critical recognition as well as boasting a star-studded cast that almost puts Ocean’s Eleven to shame, more people chose to see the PG-rated imitation.
The widening gap between Hollywood’s worldview and that of the average American demonstrates the error inherent in the notion that Mormon filmmakers should endeavor to “counteract” such distortions with overly-purile movies, thus canceling out the smut. Making a film that more accurately portrays reality would naturally be more wholesome. It would also make more money.
The only thing preventing conservative filmmakers from tapping into this market is their own lack of honesty.
Doing What Hollywouldn't
Most Latter-day Saints who decide to go into film fall into one of two categories. They either attempt to distinguish themselves from the Mormon Film Industry by blending in with Hollywood (in a way that hopefully doesn’t result in too many moral compromises)—OR—they launch on all-out attack on Hollywood in an attempt to change the world. Although the latter may be seen as more honorable, both modes of operation are flawed in that they are equally defined by Hollywood.
It’s like in high school. There were the popular kids and the rebels. The popular kids wore nice basketball shoes because that’s what the majority was doing. The rebels wore beat-up Converses because that’s what the majority was not doing. Both were equally defined by the whim of the masses. And the problem with being defined by external forces is that it results in movies that don’t aspire to be good, but simply not to be bad.
Conservative film-goers who are tired of being constantly offended by the latest blockbuster are more likely to settle for mediocrity when watching, for example, a Mormon comedy that’s biggest appeal is that it is not dirty. While no one tries to make a mediocre movie, the creators of such distinctly Mormon films may unknowingly be holding themselves to a lower artistic standard. The creative process, in such cases, is necessarily censored and all ideas are judged by the degree to which they resemble the world instead of being judged by their truth, interest, potency, or authenticity.
Then there are those who have noticed this tolerance for mediocrity and seek out more secular projects which, although probably not matching their moral standards, come much closer to matching their artistic standards. This cognitive dissonance can only be relieved either by lying—that is, making films that don’t accurately portray what they believe—or by simply changing what they believe. A few, without naming names, have chosen the latter and sadly have fallen away from the church. But those who stay true to the faith “under the radar” in Hollywood (and the place is crawling with ‘em) face essentially the same obstacle as those who rebel against Hollywood. Their creative process is stymied because every idea must first be judged on whether or not it conforms to the (sheltered) world-view of Hollywood, rather than on its worth.
Latter-day Saints of all people should know what it means to truly stand apart and define themselves. After-all, when it comes to doctrine, the church claims to be the soul possessor of the whole Gospel of Jesus Christ. The Catholics, according to this belief, have distorted the truth. The various Protestant churches defined themselves as rejections of Catholic dogma and therefore are merely reactionary. Just as the church identifies truth independently of outside influences, Mormon filmmakers should extract ideas directly from personal experience and inject them into their creations.
This is not to say that knowledge of the conventions of film is not essential to speaking the language of film effectively. It is. But these conventions should be considered as a reference guide and should not hinder the creation of unique modes of artistic expression. Such a liberation would result in films that give the audience feelings they have never felt before, and explore insights formerly unexplored on film; insights that only a Latter-day Saints could provide.
Where's the Honesty?
Honesty means telling the truth as you understand it. When a person with no ill intention tells what he believes to be true, but happens to be incorrect, his is still being honest. This is an important distinction because the main business of fiction is to explore truths that are rarely agreed upon. For example, a filmmaker could show murder as morally admirable and although many would reject such a “truth” as false, if he believes it he is being honest. An honest filmmaker is one who portrays the world as he truly believes it to be.
People are willing to watch movies that challenge their values because they recognize in them a level of honesty few Mormon filmmakers have been able to achieve. For example: research shows that 40 percent of people who have premarital sex later regret it and only eight percent of those who wait until marriage regret the decision or even report lower sexual satisfaction during their life of voluntary monogamy (“Guilt” 13). But because big-shot movie moguls live in a community cut off from average America, they see monogamy as inconsistent with personal fulfillment and consider saving oneself for marriage laughably puritanical if not impossible. Because they are so thoroughly convinced that this is true, when they create worlds that echo this belief, it rings true to the audience and is therefore compelling.
LDS filmmakers, on the other hand, have a worldview just as rich and complex as those in Hollywood, but they are unwilling to explore it. This unintentional dishonesty is the result of equating portraying evil with advocating it. Because everyone’s world-view includes attitudes about evil, no artist can be truly honest without dealing with it.
Brigham Young once admonished the saints to “study not only good, and its effects on our race, but evil, and its consequences” (Young 93). Because stories teach by putting forth human examples, it is not uncommon for a depiction of evil to be good and for a depiction of righteousness to be bad. Showing a character experience negative consequences after sinning is likely to lead the audience to avoid sin, therefore such a depiction is perfectly ethical. Fiction author Orson Scott Card notes in his book A Storyteller in Zion that Mormon art “often shows goodness to be puerile, or impossible, or—heaven forbid—boring.” He further proposes that “a gooey G-rated film that reduces goodness to niceness does as much harm as an R-rated film that makes evil seem rewarding, since both will move an audience to shun the good and espouse the evil” (102).
But judging a film’s content can be trickier than merely identifying the good-guys and bad-guys and then comparing the results of their actions to one’s own beliefs. In many films, as in life, each character has a complex combination of good and evil. A much more pervasive phobia among Latter-day Saint artists than portraying evil is portraying ambiguity. While many things in life can be appropriately labeled as black or white, many others can only be classified as gray. Card commented on the error of avoiding such “grays”:
“The problem with this is Plato’s old error that showing a good man doing something bad is bad, for it corrupts the morals of those watching. If art only showed good men doing good and bad men doing bad, it would have no correspondence with reality, because there is no such thing as a wholly bad man... If Latter-day Saints look into themselves and see, as most will see, that they are basically good people trying to do right, and if upon realizing that they conclude that they are thus incapable of doing wrong because no storyteller has ever admitted to them that well-meaning people err, then the artist has reneged his responsibility and his audience is less moral, not more… They will no longer seek to repent of their own sins, but rather endeavor to make all other people identical to themselves” (101-102)
Because films tell stories visually, they must also be considered in terms of their aesthetic morality. For example, a husband and wife making love is a wonderful event but it’s portrayal on screen can be immoral if it is too graphic because it destroys the most special part of such an act: its private intimacy. A PG-rated adventure movie that shows violence as frivolous and cool can have a more harmful effect than a graphic war movie that shows violence as devastating.
The fact is an honest movie will affect different people in different ways. This is another reason LDS filmmakers tend to avoid honesty. They want to make films they can be sure will affect everyone for good. “How,” so the logic goes, “could I make an honest movie about what I learned from my dear grandma’s life when she smoked to her dying day? What if someone after watching my film takes up smoking, even though my intention was to paint a picture of getting over a lost spouse?” Such a concern does not recognize the responsibility of the audience for their own reaction. As Card put it: “We never know which book (or film), which offends us, might contain that shred of truth that leads another person that much closer to happiness” (94). The audience must come to understand that watching a movie requires the same level of active participation as forming experiences in real life.
Film scholar and BYU professor Sharon Swenson described the implications of such active participation: “In watching a film, we co-create meanings with the filmmaker… Meaning lies in a shared space held by the spectator who connects with his or her own values as well as those of the creator through the experience of the book or film” (Swenson 252). If filmmakers can recognize the potential for their films to provide the audience with such an experience, they will not shy away from portraying life how they really see it, with its occasional nicotine-dependent grandma. Such honest storytelling will inevitably open the door to misinterpretation, but will gain the ability to add to the audience member’s pool of life experience. It is worth the trade off.
This phenomenological perspective demonstrates a problem with making films that are overly didactic. Prepackaging the meaning of a film denies the audience the opportunity to think critically and be a “co-creator” of the film’s meaning.
Film theorist John Gardner wrote in his book On Moral Fiction: “Didacticism and true art are immiscible; and in any case, nothing guarantees that didacticism will be moral. Think of Mein Kampf. True art is by its nature moral” (19). In sermons, honesty is sacrificed for eternal truth. The preacher does not have to be perfect to present a perfect message. Film however, because of its nature, must be as flawed as its author in order to be honest. The amount of soul-searching this process mandates may raise fear in some of uncovering dark inclinations they would rather remain hidden. But watching the honest film of such a flawed person is no more detrimental than spending time with that individual would be. And while the filmmaker’s imperfect nature will inevitably come through in his work, so too will his beliefs. Card noted about his own writings:
“I believe that such expressions of faith, unconsciously placed within a story, are the most honest and also most powerful messages a writer can give; they are, in essence, the expression of the author’s conceived universe, and the reader who believes and cares about the story will dwell, for a time, in the author’s world and receive powerful vicarious memories that become part of the reader’s own” (159).
The filmmaker whose main goal is to perpetuate a message will find it very difficult to create a believable story the audience can care about. The reason for film’s existence in the first place is to communicate that which cannot be stated outright. A movie that merely attempts to teach that a behavior is good or bad is like an airplane that merely buggies luggage to and fro without leaving the runway. The experience of a film is not just a costume for discourse to masquerade in. The experience of a film is in-and-of-itself valuable.
Filmmakers should instead start with an idea for a character or a situation. As the plot develops, at every turn the author should ask himself “What do I honestly believe would be the consequences of these actions? What would the character do in this situation?” It is the sincere contemplation of questions like these that determines the honesty of a movie. A story that grows naturally from its characters can have multiple layers of meaning, some of which the author may not even be aware of, because it takes place in a world as fully conceived as our own. Allegiance to the film’s message before the characters is likely to lead the filmmaker to change or water-down his honest answers to these soul-searching questions if they are perceived as interfering with that message. Such distorted characterizations are present to an excruciating degree in the vast majority of Mormon films. The result is movies that promote truths that feel like lies, rendering them impotent in truly touching people.
A Call to Action
The human race needs stories to survive. No culture has ever existed without storytelling in some form. The insights into our own nature which film has the potential to provide, with unique resemblance to real human experience, can be gained from no other source. A tired American public, desperate for stories that ring true, has been forced to get their filmic nourishment from hostile territory. They will continue to do so until Mormon filmmakers rise to the occasion, stop making excuses, and produce compelling works of honesty and integrity. We can’t make good filmmakers better people, but we can make good people better filmmakers.
Works Cited
Astle, Randy, and Gideon O. Burton. “A History of Mormon Cinema.” BYU Studies Vol. 46
No. 2 (2007): 49-50.
Medved, Michael. The Ten Big Lies About America. New York: Crown Forum, 2008.
Wehner, Peter, and Yuval Levin. “Crime, Drugs, Welfare—and Other Good News.”
Commentary. December 2007.
Associated Press. “Fewer High School Students Are Having Sex.” July 13, 2007.
Gallop Organization. “Congregational Engagement Ascends.” February 15, 2005.
Lichter, S. Robert, Linda S. Lichter and Stanley Rothman. “Watching America.” January 1992.
Medved, Michael. Hollywood Vs. America. New York: HarperCollins, 1992.
“Guilt and regret despite sexual revolution.” Nutrition Health Review Issue 55. 1990.
Young, Brigham. Journal of Discourses, 26 vols. Liverpool: F. D. Richards. February 6, 1853.
Card, Orson Scott. A Storyteller in Zion. Salt Lake City: Bookcraft. 1993
Swenson, Sharon. “Active Spectatorship: Spiritual Dimensions of Film.” BYU Studies Vol. 46 No. 2 (2007): 247-256.
Gardner, John. On Moral Fiction. New York: Basic Books, 1992.
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