ScreenFish

where faith and film are intertwined

James Franco

Don’t Come Back from the Moon – A World of Emptiness

by Leave a Comment

An optimist sees a glass as half full; a pessimist sees it as half empty. A nihilist will dump the water from the glass and marvel at the emptiness. Bruce Thierry Cheung’s Don’t Come Back from the Moon is a study of such emptiness.

In a small desert community, after the one local plant closes, the fathers leave town, one by one. Some may be looking for work elsewhere; others are just admitting defeat in life. The fathers are referred to as having gone to the moon. In the aftermath, their children must struggle with the abandonment. They act out with a mixture of anarchism, anger, distrust, and fear.

The story is told by sixteen year-old Mickey (Jeffery Wahlberg), whose father (James Franco, in a brief appearance) has set off for a new start. His mother (Rashida Jones) has gone through all the new starts she can handle, so the rest of the family stays behind. Mickey and the other kids left behind spend their days and nights in mischief, drinking, and “harvesting” abandoned homes for scrap they can sell. They live in the moment, without thought of what might lie ahead of them. There seems to be no future. Mickey connects with Sonya (Alyssa Elle Steinacker), and they begin to form a bond, until her father returns seeking to take her with him to Nebraska where he has found work.

Filmed in the area around the Salton Sea in California, the film is full of ruins of the past grandeur (or hoped for grandeur) of the community. The world we see in this film has rusted and eroded away leaving only reminders of the dreams of those who came there. That serves as a metaphor for the lives of the children left behind. It is a world without dreams—only a weather-beaten past. Many of the scenes focus on the physical emptiness of the location, which lead us to see the emptiness in the lives of the characters.

Emptiness is one of the ways some have understood the term “vanity” in Ecclesiastes. When Qoheleth repeatedly tells us that “all is vanity”, it is a reference to the sense that life can often seem empty of meaning. Should we count Qoheleth among the nihilists who would show us the empty glass? Certainly, there are some who would read Ecclesiastes in that light.

There is a sense that the characters in the film have lived in this world of emptiness for so long that they have no concept of what might bring fullness (or even half-fullness) to their lives. For them this empty world is normal—perhaps even beautiful. That may be why they choose to stay. The pack of children promise each other that they will never go to the moon. They would hear Qoheleth’s “all is vanity” as an unemotional description. I think it should be heard as lament in search of something to bring life and meaning.

When the time comes for Mickey to decide how he will choose to live his life, the options are to continue in the emptiness that is so familiar or searching out the possibilities of life elsewhere. But can he find anything better somewhere else, or is the whole world really as empty as the moon?

Photos courtesy of Brainstorm Media

The Disaster Artist: The Lost (and Found) American Dream

by Leave a Comment


The Disaster Artist tells the story of Greg Sistero (Dave Franco), an aspiring actor who dreams of Hollywood stardom. His whole world changes, however, when he joins forces with the mysterious (and untalented) Tommy Wiseau (James Franco) with the hopes of spurring one another on to fame and fortune. As the two struggle to find work as actors, Tommy soon convinces Greg to make their own film using his script and seemingly unlimited bank account. After countless productions issues, they finally release The Room, one of the most critically-reviled films of all time.

Directed by and starring James Franco, Artist is a hilarious and surprisingly poignant picture of one man’s vision to justify his talents to the world. While The Room may have been labelled the ‘worst film of all time’ by many, the film develops out of a hurricane of chaos with the erratic Wiseau as its center. With the relationship between Sistero and Wiseau serving as the Artist’s emotional core, the decision to cast real-life brothers, James and Dave Franco, opposite one another proves to be an excellent decision. Portraying Sistero as the rational dreamer to Wiseau’s increasingly bizarre antics, there is a natural chemistry between the Francos that translates well in the film.

While both men bring their characters to life with energy and enthusiasm, it’s the elder brother James and his portrayal as Wiseau that holds the film together. Here, James is firing on all cylinders as the misguided filmmaker, exposing the faults of Wiseau’s confusing vision from start to finish. Amazingly though, his performance as not only lampoons the wild and mysterious Wiseau but also reveals his humanity. While the film could have simply chosen to showcase all of his shortcomings, Franco’s portrayal reveals an immense love for Tommy and even an admiration for his sheer, wild creativity. (In fact, this mutual respect is reiterated in a post-credit scene where Franco’s Wiseau and the real Tommy come into contact with one another.)

In The Disaster Artist, Tommy Wiseau is both passionate artist and wildly delusional. As an audience, we’re stunned by his bizarre antics and utter inability to formulate any cohesive directions to his cast and crew. However, at the same time, he also a sympathetic character who clearly needs the bright lights of fame to validate his emotional shortcomings. Wiseau is  everyone with a dream of stardom, but also a jarringly self-absorbed enigma.

He’s literally almost everyone and no one at the same time.

As a result, the film becomes both justification of and dissection of the ‘American dream’. Wiseau is a man who is determined to create something for his own recognition yet he simply doesn’t have any sense of restraint (or even common sense). While Artist suggests that Tommy is to be admired for his passion, he is also admonished for his lack of self-control. He believes that the Dream is within reach if he only commits himself yet his primary commitment seems to be to himself. In essence, his desire to be justified outweighs his ability to think and act humbly. As he alienates his friends and film crew, Wiseau blames them for their lack of support and increasingly takes only his own counsel. In doing so, the development of The Room becomes his own personal Tower of Babel, a monument to his own abilities that seems destined to come crashing down around him. Upon the film’s release, his expectation is that he will be lauded with critical praise and public recognition. (He even ensures that The Room fulfills the required screenings for Oscar nominations.) However, when the film is reviled by the public, he’s left feeling broken, viewing himself as a complete failure.Interestingly though, Wiseau’s redemption comes through an act of grace. Whereas The Room is critically hammered for its quality, Greg points out that the joy it brings to the audience is worth the effort. In other words, while the film may be a critical failure, Greg’s words offer a form of redemption for Wiseau. No, The Room would not be destined for Oscar glory but that doesn’t mean it isn’t valuable.

And it’s no different for Wiseau himself.

In essence, Sistero’s words of redemption for the film also offer grace to Wiseau, an agent of his own demise who has tied his own value closely to the success of his film. Demonstrating an almost God-like love of his disturbed friend, Greg assures Tommy that his effort is not at a loss. By reframing the importance of the film from critical praise to laughter and joy, Greg’s words offer new life to Tommy’s heart.

In short, Sistero’s compassion allows Wiseau’s healing.

In the end, The Disaster Artist becomes more than just another comedic biopic. Instead, the film takes on a life of its own, infusing generous grace to a man who shot for the moon and missed. Artist proves that even those obsessed with their own fame and success have value and need hope through found only in acts of love and kindness.

War for the Planet of the Apes: Hail Caesar!

by Leave a Comment

Hail Caesar.

Directed again by Matt Reeves, War for the Planet of the Apes picking up 2 years after the events of Dawn and shows that the battle between humans and apes has escalated tremendously.  With multiple casualties on both sides, Caesar (Andy Serkis) is determined to free ape-kind from the attacks of the humans’ relentless military leader Colonel McCullough (Woody Harrelson).  After a human raid on the ape compound ends in tragedy, an enraged Caesar sends his colony away and opts to seek revenge on the Colonel himself.

What has made these most recent entries into the Apes franchise so special has been their heavy emphasis on character.  Through his portrayal of Caesar, Andy Serkis isn’t just compelling as the Ape leader, he practically leaps off the screen as one of the more complex and, yes, ‘human’ characters in a franchise in the last two decades. More than a mere sympathetic character, director Reeves portrays Caesar as broken leader, torn between two worlds.  Despite the fact that he was raised by humans, he isn’t one.  What’s more, he doesn’t fit in with his fellow apes due to his human upbringing.  There is a tension within Caesar that seems to bring conflict into every decision he makes.  Will he succumb to his baser instincts?  Will he seek a path that will cause tension with his own kind?

All of these questions, however, point to Caesar’s very human struggle of wanting to do good but battling his own inner demons.  Unlike many other onscreen sci-fi characters, Caesar could be any one of us.  While there remains a safe distance with many current onscreen ‘heroes’—after all, who has the resources of Batman or the powers of the Hulk? – Caesar somehow remains accessible.  A survivor of abuse, he recognizes that evil has come as a result of a few and not all of humanity.  He has been damaged but struggles to move on. Through his obsession with focusing on the eyes of his characters, Reeves shows the    brokenness within Caesar with a simple glance.  (After all, wasn’t it Shakespeare that claimed that the ‘eyes were the windows of the soul’?)

War puts the conflict within Caesar on full display, as he wrestles with obsession and revenge.  Having endured incredible personal losses, Caesar’s battle with his inner demons takes on a visceral edge as he slowly slides into potential savagery.  Anchored by his visions of Koba, the treacherous ape who led a rebellion in Dawn, Caesar’s desire for peace gradually gives way to his desire to kill.  (In fact, there is even one particular dream sequence that plays out similar to Christ’s experience in the wilderness, with Koba’s voice inviting Caesar to give in to temptation and unleash his hatred.)  While Caesar’s life has been touched by grace through his human friends, the scars of war, hurt and hatred left by others prevents him from fully living.

Yet, in the midst of this dark descent, there lies hope.  Despite the apes’ incarceration in the ‘human zoo’, Caesar’s struggle against the Colonel provides a beacon of light for those around him.  His acts of courage and defiance show his ape family that rebellion against evil doesn’t necessarily mean combat.  It’s interesting to note that Reeves’ desire for this film was to depict Caesar as the ‘Moses’ of ape-kind, leading his people out of the hands of overwhelming oppression.  In this regard, War take on the structure of a biblical epic, buoyed by Caesar’s desire to see his people reach the ‘promised land’ of freedom.  (SPOILER ALERT:  In fact, the film’s destructive avalanche even seems to echo the plight of Pharaoh’s army at the hands of the Red Sea.  SPOILERS END)

Though, unlike Moses, Caesar’s hope is far less secure.  Whereas Moses believed that God would intervene, Caesar’s hope frequently lies within himself.  Aware that he bears responsibility for the ape capture in the first place, he places the burden of freedom upon himself.  However, in doing so, his inner brokenness becomes more evident and he remains paralyzed.  Ironically, it is only after his fellow apes remind him that ‘Apes. Together. Strong’ that Caesar remembers that true hope lies in something bigger than himself and he begins to move towards freedom once again.  (If that doesn’t sound like the beating heart of a Biblical epic, I don’t know what does!)

In the end, the power of this latest batch of Apes films lies in the audience’s relationship with Caesar.  Each film leaves with the question of whether we need a Caesar or whether or not we are Caesar.  His courage and love remain Christ-like at times, yet his brokenness and angst mirrors so much of our own.  With War wrapping up Caesar’s journey, Reeves believes that there are many more stories to tell about this iteration of Apes moving forward.  Still, regardless of where this franchise goes, the impact of Serkis’ Caesar will undoubtedly echo throughout the future.

After all, the life of any good ‘Moses’ would do the same.

Special features on the Blu-ray Combo Pack from Fox include audio commentary by director Matt Reeves, deleted scenes with optional commentary by Reeves, and “Apes: the Meaning of It All,” the in-depth “Waging War for the Planet of the Apes”, “All About Caesar” (the star of the trilogy), “WETA: Pushing Boundaries” on special effects, “Music for Apes,” and “The Apes Saga: An Homage.” 

3.26 Waging WAR FOR THE PLANET OF THE APES

by Leave a Comment

This week on the show. Steve welcomes back Shelley McVea to battle Caesar and the WAR FOR THE PLANET OF THE APES! While a part of the original franchise, these latest Apes films have gone in an entirely new direction with an intense energy and focus on what it means to be ‘human’. But does Matt Reeves’ claim that this particular entry is meant to portray Ape-leader Caesar as ‘their Moses’ add anything more? Shelley and Steve answer this question and more, only on ScreenFish.

Want to continue to conversation at home?  Click the link below to download ‘Fishing for More’ — some small group questions for you to bring to those in your area.

3.26 War for the Planet of the Apes

Thanks Shelley for coming back on the show!

11.22.63: Stephen King Takes on History

by Leave a Comment

11.22.63

11.22.63, Stephen King’s time-bending novel, has been adapted by Bridget Carpenter (Friday Night Lights, The Red Road) for Hulu. Now, available on Blu-ray, DVD, and Digital HD, 11.22.63 takes us on a twisty road from the present back to the 1960s in a darker Back to the Future.

James Franco’s Jake Epping suffers. His marriage has crumbled and his English career seems pointless. But when his friend Al Templeton (Chris Cooper) dies, Epping is thrust into the mission Templeton died trying to complete: he must go back in time and stop Lee Harvey Oswald (Daniel Webster) from killing JFK. But if that’s not complicated enough…

The Yellow Card Man (Kevin J. O’Connor) keeps showing up telling him that he shouldn’t be ‘here’.

Epping tries to save one of his student’s from tragedy as a child.

Every move Epping makes changes something else thanks to the Butterfly Effect.

11.22.63.2

Traveling back in time is complicated!

While I loved the book – and cringed at what it might become as a miniseries – I found the overall vibe of the show to be aligned with King’s original. I found the ideas around responsibility and cause-and-effect to be thought-provoking. There are elements of horror and suspense (Josh Duhamel’s Frank Dunning is a particularly terrifying butcher), but the historical progression for Epping, Oswald, and the politics surrounding them are intriguing as well.

What options do we have to change the future? What difference can we make today? This just isn’t about JFK and the past – this is about owning our future, and taking responsibility, right now.

Special features include a look at adapting the story, filming on location, modeling the set for the 1960s, and Franco as director.

True Story: What Is Truth?

by Leave a Comment

true storyIn FOX’s True Story, Jonah Hill and James Franco go sifting through the truth and lies of stolen identity, but this isn’t a light-hearted look at someone messing with your credit scores. No, this is a film based on the real-life biopic of Michael Finkel (Hill), who finds that Christian Longo (Franco), an accused serial killer, has stolen his identity. When the two men meet, a relationship develops, and suddenly, the truth of the matter is a very nebulous thing indeed.

While the plot of the film progresses slowly, there’s a certain amount of captivating tension that one can appreciate when picking through the pile of information surrounding a true life whodunit. Did Longo kill his wife and children? Is he innocent? Can Finkel actually figure it out?

The film is helped along by the fact that the principal actors are joined by Felicity Jones, Gretchen Mol, and others, who all provide significant heft to their roles. The dialogue is reasonably engaging, and the case itself led to some significant possibilities in the plot lines. But ultimately,  it boils down to Franco’s Longo and Hill’s Finkel wrestling verbally, over truth, identity, memory, and relational power.

What complicates the actual case playing out in court is the case Finkel finds himself in over an article he wrote for the New York Times, where he created a “composite” of various people he met while researching a story. He didn’t necessarily change the truth of the situations but he combined the stories in a way that his bosses found to be disingenuous, his journalistic integrity compromised. So, while Longo is working to convey his perspective, and his truth, to Finkel, Finkel is himself wrestling with how he hears, digests, and conveys the truth himself.

Not too long ago, I had a parishioner ask me if I thought a specific news station was ‘biased’. While I personally struggle with a significant amount of what this particular station conveys, but I told him that I thought that every news station conveys what it wants to, whether it’s ideologically or based on who owns or sponsors the station. Everyone has a perspective, right? Whether they are intentionally manipulating what they see or simply viewing it only from their perspective, truth can sometimes be … different.

Whether it’s in our daily lives or in the midst of an ongoing murder investigation, we need to be aware that we’re often confused, deceived, or more; we need to be able to discern the truth. While some would point toward the Bible as the truth on which they’ll rest, we must consider (prayerfully) how we read the Bible and ‘digest’ it, as it is a translation, handed down through the generations. Too often, what we accept as true or even Biblical is the result of “whisper down the lane” (try playing that with some elementary school kids!) when we should ask God to guide us and help us be who we’re supposed to be, and what to believe.

In the end, True Story attempts to show us the fragile line of what’s true, and the cost we pay when we lose sight of where that line is.

Wild Horses: The Prodigal Father

by Leave a Comment

wildhorsesWesterns, and Robert Duvall films, are in short supply these days. So I was all to eager to dive into Wild Horses, a western film that Duvall wrote, directed, produced, and starred in with James Franco, Josh Hartnett, and Duvall’s real-life wife, Luciana Duvall. What I found was a film that moves as fast as the eighty-four-year-old Duvall, but has some nuggets of wisdom from a lifetime of experience rolled into the mix.

In a shadowy prologue that hides some of the truths of the film in mystery, Scott Briggs (Duvall) chases his son, Ben (James Franco), and a ranch hand off his property when he finds them in a homosexual relationship. Fifteen years later, Ben reluctantly returns to the ranch, at the same time that a U.S. Marshal (Luciana Duvall) shows up investigating the disappearance of the ranch hand. Two stories diverge and converge throughout the film: can the Briggs family relationships be mended, and what happened to that ranch hand?

Duvall the director/writer seems intent on having us understand that sometimes, fathers get it wrong, and that fathers are microcosms of the decision-making in society. Duvall’s Briggs is a Bible-thumper (I think it might actually be a category in Duvall’s mind), akin to the preacher he played in The Apostle. “The Bible says it, and I believe it,” could actually come out of Briggs’ mouth in a way that everything else would fade away. So, Ben is wrong, and that’s all there is to it; because Ben is wrong, Scott can’t love him.

The Parable of the Prodigal Son came to mind as I watched the film, because Hartnett’s son is the “good one,” the elder one who stays home, while Franco’s Ben is the one who runs away. But the story is inverted because it’s actually the father, Scott, who chases Ben away, and it’s the father who needs to ask for forgiveness, to own his sins, and make amends. There’s a bit of ‘end of life’ restitution making, akin to someone who ‘gets’ why they’re in Alcoholics Anonymous for the first time. And the family dynamics are way more interesting than the ‘mystery’ we’re chasing on the other side of script.

Overall, the film is intriguing, but nearly too slow to be maintained. Duvall certainly has some things he’s reflecting on as he gets older, and Wild Horses is no different. Just don’t expect to have everything cleaned up in a nice package for you: life is messy, and wild horses are meant to run free.