In this four part reflection on recent movies that were nominated for Best Picture in this year’s Oscars, I have made the suggestion that in addition to the excellence in filmmaking that each of the nominees evidence, there was also a cultural connection, a thematic interest that served as a hook to capture the attention of the viewer. Rather than nostalgia being the common bond that linked many of these movies together – an oft repeated claim – it was rather the fact that most of the nominees offered stories that helped put the anxiety and cultural dislocation that most of us feel in the present into a wider perspective.
Rather than being merely period pieces, or rather than simply offering entertainment, these movies provided hope and perspective, however modest. They offered hope as we continue to face massive personal and social dislocation – whether a loss of jobs or financial security, the erosion of our institutions, a personal tragedy, a fear of irrelevance, an inability to keep up, the fragility of our planet, or so on. We live in a time when many of us question whether we have the ability or the emotional stamina to keep going. The Artist, Moneyball, The Descendants, The Tree of Life, and Hugo all speak to this personal need. Their artistic excellence is matched by their relevance. It is a potent mix.
Among the Oscar nominees in 2011, one film remains to be mentioned – Woody Allen’s Midnight in Paris. Owen Wilson’s character, Gil Pender, is from Pasadena (my hometown!). He is a writer who has come to Paris for a vacation with his fiancée, Inez, and her parents. But filled with insecurities both as to his adequacy as a writer and with regards to his upcoming wedding, Gil (a character that Woody would no doubt have played himself when he was younger) seeks escape from life’s changes by fleeing into the glories of Paris past. Believing he was “born too late,” he takes a walk each evening at midnight. As the bells strike twelve, He finds himself magically transported back to the Paris of the 20’s – meeting Gertrude Stein (wonderfully played by Kathy Bates) and Picasso, Bunuel and Tom Eliot, Josephine Baker and Man Ray, Dali and Ernest Hemingway.
Particularly interesting is one conversation with Hemingway about the nature of art. Hemingway believes that in the experience of art all concerns cease, all fear of death vanishes. When we give ourselves over to a piece of art, even for a moment we “feel immortal.” But when Ernest asks Gil if he ever feels that, Gil’s response is “No.” His anxiety is a constant.
Gil also meets one of Picasso’s mistresses, Adriana – someone with her own anxieties and sadness. As they stroll through the streets of Paris, Gil is smitten both by her fragile beauty and by the magic of Paris itself: “In a cold, meaningless universe, to think that Paris exists….” (one can almost hear Woody himself saying these lines as he did in Crimes and Misdemeanors). Gil’s desire is to escape back into a bygone era, to simply throw it all over, but he can’t, at least not completely. As Gertrude Stein tells him, “The artist’s job is not to succumb to despair, but to create hope.” Though he can tell Adriana, “Life is crazy,” Gil comes to realize there is no prior golden age, not even the Belle Époque of Maxim’s and the Moulin Rouge that Adriana so dearly loves. Gil tells her, “I’m having an insight. We always imagine another time.” Given present circumstances, our anxiety causes us to want to escape to another time and place. But it is the present where real hope resides.
As Midnight in Paris ends, Gil has broken up with Inez, whose shallow quest for pleasure and material wealth seems almost a caricature of the first chapters of Ecclesiastes. Gil cannot give himself to the mindless pursuit of pleasure and riches that his upcoming marriage projects. Instead, Gil has met a possible soul mate in the clerk at an antique music stall. It is again midnight, but Gil has no desire this night to flee his world into the imaginary past. Instead, even though it begins to rain, he chooses to walk hand and hand into the future with his new friend. After all, as she tells him “Paris is more beautiful in the rain.”
When I saw Midnight in Paris for a second time, I walked out of the theater behind a group of senior citizens. They were spontaneously discussing the movie: “…give up your illusions. Yes it is about illusions. It’s fun to have the things of the past, but the movie is really about living in the present.” Another said, “Yes, I thought it charming. Very good.” These moviegoers got it. Here in this movie was the romantic, less cynical, Woody of old. Even if life can at times be cruel, even in a cold, harsh universe, even amidst anxiety, it is life’s present joys – friends, family, work that give us our meaning (cf., Ecclesiastes 3:11-13; 9:7-10).
Like Alexander Payne’s The Descendants, Bennett Miller’s Moneyball, and Terrence Malick’s The Tree of Life, like Martin Scorsese’s Hugo, and Michel Hazanavicius‘s The Artist, Midnight in Paris does not find hope by falsely escaping life’s reality into either the past or future. Rather hope blossoms like the cornflower in a corn field (do you recall Bonheoffer’s wonderful poem?). Life’s wonder comes alive in the midst of its fragility, even amidst life’s uncertain circumstance.
What all these Oscar nominated movies have in common is a grounded hope. Given a world in which old verities are found absent, one need not be paralyzed. One can still forgive and affirm. One can opt for a new paradigm. One can choose grace, not law. Perhaps what has seemed forgotten will be remembered. One should not flee to an imaginary golden age, but find life’s wonder amidst the pain. Paris in the rain is also wonder-filled.
Here, in the award-winning movies of 2011, is a wisdom that is consistent with much of that given by the Old Testament sages themselves. Beyond the excellence of craft, or better, embedded in it, are resonances deep within the human spirit that the Academy’s viewers found compelling. In times such as these, when the ground under which we stand is becoming unstable, when the earth’s tectonic plates are shifting and traditional institutions seem to be failing us, we are increasingly left unsure where to stand.
These Oscar choices suggest, each in their own individual ways, that we still can find hope in the wonder of present existence. Friends and family can support us. Creation is the crucible for joy; our imagination, our guide. Past and future have their rightful place, but it is in the uncertain and unknown present where meaning resides. With the writer of Ecclesiastes, these modern day sages of silver screen recognize that though our days might be full of pain and our work a vexation, “there is nothing better for mortals than to eat and drink, and find enjoyment in their toil.” (Eccles. 2:23-24). It is enough, for it is the Creator’s gift to us.
