faith

Wiebo's War

Wiebo’s War (Director: David York): David York opens his enga­ging film with an inter­esting scene. Wiebo Ludwig, the sub­ject of the film, is sit­ting around a table with sev­eral of his sons and the film crew, and Wiebo is con­cerned that most of what he stands for “won’t come across” because the dir­ector and crew are atheists.

It’s a bold move, and poten­tially one that will put many people off Ludwig right away. But it’s also a neces­sary tactic, because for the next 90 minutes, it will be dif­fi­cult not to be pulled in by Wiebo’s cha­risma, pas­sion and evident good sense.

In the mid 1980s, Wiebo Ludwig, an ordained min­ister with the his­tor­ic­ally Dutch Christian Reformed Church, decided to uproot his family from their Ontario home to go and live “apart from the world” in northern Alberta. It was an exper­i­ment in holy living, but also in self-sufficiency and community-building. Along with another couple and all of their chil­dren, they settled on a parcel of land they dubbed Trickle Creek. As their chil­dren grew older, they inter­mar­ried and had their own chil­dren. They raised animals and were able to sup­port them­selves in both food and energy.

But these were not technology-shunning ascetics like the Amish. They wanted to farm and wor­ship God, but were happy to be part of the wider world when they needed it. Unfortunately, the world quickly impinged on their bit of paradise.

In the late 1980s, the oil and gas industry moved in when they dis­covered that Trickle Creek was sit­ting over a huge reser­voir of nat­ural gas. One of the most shocking rev­el­a­tions of the film is that des­pite the Ludwigs’ deed to their land, they only own the top six inches, and have no own­er­ship or con­trol of the min­eral rights that the EnCana gas cor­por­a­tion is so eager to exploit. Whether this is Canadian law or just Alberta’s, I still think it’s some­thing that needs to be challenged.

York’s film uses lots of material shot by the Ludwigs over the years, including flaming tap water, an image used more recently by Josh Fox’s Gasland (review), which would make a great com­panion piece to this film. There’s also hor­rific footage of dead and deformed live­stock, and in one indelible scene, a still­born infant.

In the 90s, the Canadian news media was abuzz at a cam­paign of sab­otage against the oil and gas industry including explo­sions at well sites. Ludwig was con­victed in con­nec­tion with these acts and served 18 months in prison. Many years pass but now there is another string of bomb­ings in northern British Columbia, and Ludwig is again the prime sus­pect. Even though York fol­lows him for sev­eral years as these events play out, we never really know the extent of Ludwig’s involve­ment. We do, how­ever, begin to under­stand the extent of his family’s des­per­a­tion to live unmolested.

Since Wiebo is eager to declare that his actions flow from his bib­lical prin­ciples, I think it’s cogent to examine them. Ludwig and his family are in a unique pos­i­tion, able to fulfil the bib­lical func­tion of the prophet, which is to speak the truth to power. But in the pro­cess they are also sub­ject to another bib­lical maxim: that a prophet is without honour in his own country. Their sep­ar­a­tion from the com­munity allows them the freedom to cri­ti­cize the oil and gas industry because they are not eco­nom­ic­ally dependent upon it. The people in the towns around them don’t have that luxury, and so there is a built-in resent­ment that is only stoked higher by the Ludwigs’ reli­gious beliefs and prac­tices, which are sub­ject to small-town gossip and dis­tor­tion. It’s a fas­cin­ating dynamic to watch at work, and it is behind another of the film’s unsolved mys­teries, the shooting death of a local girl on the Ludwig’s prop­erty after two truck­loads of drunken teen­agers arrive in the middle of the night to harass them.

It dawned on me that if this film had been set in the devel­oping world, audi­ences would feel imme­diate sym­pathy and even solid­arity with someone who was res­isting a greedy cor­por­a­tion and an apathetic gov­ern­ment. Because it’s so close to home, I think reac­tion will be more mixed. The oil and gas industry has been quick to brand Ludwig an “eco-terrorist” and the Canadian media has been happy to advance this char­ac­ter­iz­a­tion. York’s film will help shade the black and white cari­ca­ture we’ve been provided with, although Ludwig remains a com­plic­ated man. His ini­tial mis­giv­ings are not ground­less, and for a man who claims to answer only to God, his par­ti­cip­a­tion in the film is pretty remark­able. If it brings some addi­tional crit­ical atten­tion to the prac­tices of an industry that powers so much of Canada’s eco­nomy, it will be worthwhile.

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God in America

God in America (Directors: David Belton and Sarah Colt): America has always rep­res­ented a place where almost any­thing is pos­sible, where people can start over and from where new ideas, philo­sophies and move­ments emerge. This six-part series from PBS explores the ways in which reli­gious faith has flour­ished in the United States, even as it has been shaped by other powerful forces.

Beginning with the Spanish con­quista­dors’ con­tact with the Pueblo Indians of the American Southwest, it was clear that European mani­fest­a­tions of faith and reli­gious prac­tice could not con­tinue unchanged. When the Catholic priests began “con­verting” the Pueblos, they were under the impres­sion that the nat­ives had embraced Christianity’s exclusive mes­sage, and rejected their own pan­the­istic reli­gious ideas. This was not the case, and when the Spanish began ban­ning native reli­gious prac­tices and pun­ishing trans­gressors, it didn’t take long before the Pueblos res­isted. When 2,000 war­riors des­cended upon the Spanish in 1680, slaughtering half of the Catholic priests, the Europeans fled New Mexico. Their Old World reli­gion would not be able to sur­vive unchanged in the New World.

This is a fact that the Puritans who landed on the East Coast in 1630 were counting on. Escaping reli­gious per­se­cu­tion in Europe, they saw them­selves as God’s Chosen People and this new land as the Promised Land. The fact that there were already people living in it seemed to bother them as little as it did the Israelites before them. Fleeing a Europe they felt was mor­ally cor­rupt, they were eager to start over and create a new society, based on the bib­lical prin­ciples prom­ised by the Reformation but com­prom­ised by cen­turies of existing polit­ical and reli­gious struggles. But the non-conformist prin­ciple that was behind the Reformation quickly came into con­flict with the need for a dis­cip­lined and united com­munity trying to sur­vive in a hos­tile envir­on­ment. And it didn’t take long for new strains of belief to break out and for the ori­ginal com­munity to become as rigid and cal­ci­fied as the European Catholic hier­archy they had left behind.

Just in the first episode, the series sets up the paradox at the heart of America. If everyone is free to do his or her thing, how do you develop a coherent society? America provided the answer by devel­oping its own myth­o­logy. That shared myth is what binds Americans together now, not the Puritan Christianity that united the first set­tlers. It’s no sur­prise that the earliest reli­gious con­flicts, between the inter­i­ority of faith and belief, and the com­munal insti­tu­tions of reli­gion and politics, are still at the heart of American society today.

I am very much looking for­ward to watching the entire series, and even based on the first episode, can recom­mend this to anyone (not just Americans!) inter­ested in the way our per­sonal beliefs and values affect our com­munities and our society.

You can watch the whole series online or order the DVDs from the excel­lent web­site that PBS has cre­ated for the series. It also con­tains a wealth of back­ground inform­a­tion and sup­porting material, including some fas­cin­ating his­tor­ical documents.

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Hadewijch

by James McNally on September 12, 2009 · 8 comments

in Film Festivals,TIFF

Hadewijch

Hadewijch (Director: Bruno Dumont): In this, his fifth fea­ture film, Bruno Dumont has cre­ated some­thing as mys­ter­ious and beau­tiful as his prot­ag­onist. We meet young Celine in a con­vent, where she is hoping to take her vows as a nun. But her refusal to eat and other acts of self-denial worry the Mother Superior, who turns her out into the world, hoping to rid her of what she con­siders “self-love.” Though she lives with her wealthy par­ents in the centre of Paris, they’re dis­tant and there’s some sug­ges­tion of buried issues with her father.

One day she meets some boys in a café, who are amazed at her trusting nature. Yassine takes a spe­cial liking to her, although she rebuffs his romantic advances, claiming she only has love for Christ. The young Muslim is befuddled but still besotted, so he con­tinues their friend­ship. Eventually she visits the home he shares with his brother Nassir in the housing pro­jects out­side the city. Nassir is a “ser­ious” Muslim, according to Yassine, and he thinks they’ll hit it off. He has no idea.

Nassir recog­nizes the fire that burns in Celine’s heart, and though their reli­gions are dif­ferent, their pas­sion is the same. Over time, he con­vinces Celine that God is not only about love, but about justice as well. Soon after that, he takes her to Lebanon to show her the injustice he finds there. Dumont patiently lays the ground­work for a stun­ning climax that shows just how easily love can turn to violence.

Meanwhile, in a par­allel plot, we follow David, a petty crim­inal working in con­struc­tion at the con­vent. He breaks his parole and is sent back to jail for a few months. It’s not clear what his pur­pose is until the final scene, in which the two lives stand in stark con­trast to each other. Celine lives in extremes, reaching for holi­ness and finding tragedy. David is an everyman, flawed but more cap­able of love than Celine could ever be. The inter­sec­tion of their lives leads to a power­fully moving ending.

Dumont put his faith in non-professional Julie Sokolowski to play Celine, and the decision pays off. She por­trays her dis­con­nec­tion from the world nat­ur­ally, even as she radi­ates a for­bidden sexu­ality. Her purity attracts men, but she only has eyes for Christ, and her obses­sion verges on the sexual. Her prayers are painful, expressing her yearning to be with Christ even as she protests his absence. She longs for the ecstasy and obli­vion of union with God, and the con­nec­tion with some of the rhet­oric of Islamic ter­rorism couldn’t be more clear.

This is the first of Dumont’s films I’ve seen, and I’m cap­tiv­ated by his intel­li­gence and will­ing­ness to explore such interior issues as reli­gious faith and obses­sion. In the post-screening Q&A, he revealed that Hadewijch was a real mystic from the Middle Ages, and his explor­a­tion of what a modern example would look like in a world filled with polit­ical action makes for one smart and haunting film.

Official site of the film (en francais)

Here is the Q&A with dir­ector Bruno Dumont from after the screening:

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (ver­sion 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest ver­sion here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

Duration: 27:10

9/10(9/10)

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Black Narcissus

by James McNally on July 18, 2009

in DVD,Snapshots

Black Narcissus
Editor’s Note: I’m intro­du­cing a new cat­egory called Snapshots with this review. These are short takes on older films. Short takes because I’m either too lazy to attempt a full review or else I’m intim­id­ated by the wealth of other crit­ical opinion out there on these films.

Black Narcissus (1947, Directors: Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger): Though Deborah Kerr has top billing, the real star of Black Narcissus is the Technicolor cine­ma­to­graphy of Jack Cardiff, who passed away earlier this year. For a film that came out right after the war, the lush col­ours and exotic locale must have been like a drug to a war-weary world. Kerr plays Sister Clodagh, the leader of a small group of nuns who have been sent to the Himalayas to estab­lish a con­vent school on the site of a former palace that was used to house a pre­vioius owner’s con­cu­bines. The exotic set­ting seems to create ten­sions in the women, pulling them away from their reli­gious devo­tion toward the more sen­sual pleas­ures of the exotic world they’re inhabiting.

The plot is melo­dra­matic, but the images are always strik­ingly com­posed. Surprisingly (or per­haps not so much con­sid­ering England’s post-war aus­terity), the whole thing was shot at Pinewood Studios, with some won­derful set design and matte paint­ings filling in for real moun­tains. Both art dir­ector Alfred Junge and cine­ma­to­grapher Cardiff won Academy Awards for the film.

I will con­fess that I’m baffled at all the ref­er­ences I’ve seen to these nuns as Protestant or “Anglo-Catholic”. Their order is named for the Virgin Mary and although they renew their vows yearly, which is unusual, there was nothing remotely Protestant about their reli­gious prac­tice, nor did I hear any cla­ri­fying ref­er­ence in the dia­logue. Perhaps it is made clear in the novel (by Rumer Godden) upon which the film is based.


Black Narcissus
Black Narcissus
Black Narcissus
Black Narcissus
Black Narcissus
Black Narcissus
Black Narcissus
Black Narcissus

Essay by Ronald Haver on the Criterion website

8/10(8/10)

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Cure for Love

Cure for Love (Directors: Francine Pelletier and Christina Willings): I first heard about this doc­u­mentary almost a year ago, and excitedly wrote to the film­makers asking for a copy. To my shame, I’ve had that copy for almost eight months and am only now get­ting around to it. Although it was an inquis­itive email from one of the dir­ectors that jolted me into action, I’m happy that my review also coin­cides with the end of the Inside Out fest, which I’ve just been too busy to cover, des­pite my best intentions.

Cure for Love begins cryptic­ally with a wed­ding cere­mony between a self-described gay man and his les­bian friend. Brian and Ana ori­gin­ally met online through the Living Hope Youth Forum, a bul­letin board for evan­gel­ical young people strug­gling with same-sex attrac­tion. In gen­eral, the evan­gel­ical sub­cul­ture frowns upon homo­sexu­ality and con­siders its expres­sion a sin. Many min­is­tries have cropped up to help people to curb their desires and Living Hope is just one example of these so-called “ex-gay” min­is­tries. This film intro­duces us to Brian and Ana, as well as to two other friends who met through Living Hope. John and Darren end up taking a dif­ferent journey than their friends, each embra­cing their sexu­ality while attempting to hang onto their faith. This film very sens­it­ively listens to its sub­jects as they describe their pain and their efforts at resolving the very real con­flicts within themselves.

John’s story is maybe the most affecting for me. This incred­ibly intel­li­gent and artic­u­late man describes how in high school he would cut phrases like “not man enough” and “I hate me” into his arms with knives in order to fend off more ser­ious thoughts of sui­cide. He describes being put on anti-psychotic med­ic­a­tion and seeking help from various “ex-gay” min­is­tries such as Living Hope and Exodus. He finally comes to the con­clu­sion that there must be some­thing wrong with a set of reli­gious beliefs that in the end led him to try to des­troy him­self. Even so, he care­fully exam­ines bib­lical and theo­lo­gical evid­ence to help him accept who he is and to enjoy a romantic rela­tion­ship with another man.

Darren also becomes uncom­fort­able with the teaching of groups like Exodus. In their founders’ stories of anonymous sex and rampant promis­cuity, Darren fails to find any­thing resem­bling his own story. He admits that he never even kissed a man until he was 27, and that instead of feeling dirty, he felt incred­ibly free. It’s painful to watch him recount how he had to pull back from a rela­tion­ship with a man he clearly loves because that man had not yet been able to accept his own homosexuality.

Cure for Love

Brian and Ana are per­haps the most enig­matic. Ana seems unhappy but resigned to a mar­riage she describes as “like having a room­mate for life.” Her unyielding view of what she thinks the Bible teaches about homo­sexu­ality will not let her change her mind, even as she and Brian visit with their old friend John and his new boy­friend Chris. Brian seems to be making the best of it. His “suc­cessful” mar­riage has given him new oppor­tun­ities to speak at churches and “ex-gay” min­istry con­fer­ences and he seems to enjoy these rewards enough to stop short of where John and Darren have gone. Maybe the prestige and sense of com­munity he enjoys is enough to sub­limate his desire for a real romantic and sexual rela­tion­ship. It’s Ana for whom I feel the most, since she’s not enjoying the same sense of reward or fulfillment.

Although dir­ectors Willings and Pelletier do occa­sion­ally bring in rep­res­ent­at­ives of some “ex-gay” and “ex-ex-gay” groups, I appre­ci­ated that they kept the focus very tightly on this small group of friends. Because they’re friends who have reached dif­ferent con­clu­sions, their attempts to remain close pro­ject a sense of dis­com­fort that makes you hurt for everyone involved. Cure for Love takes a very sens­itive approach to a com­plex inter­sec­tion of sub­cul­tures, and suc­ceeds in showing its sub­jects as real human beings.

It will be showing at the Frameline San Francisco International LGBT Film Festival on June 20 and at Vancouver’s Queer Film Festival in August, but this is the sort of doc­u­mentary that really needs a tele­vi­sion broad­cast or some other way to reach a much wider audi­ence. I sin­cerely hope it gets that opportunity.

9/10(9/10)

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