ScreenFish

where faith and film are intertwined

John Krasinski

Jack Ryan: Who Gets to Live?

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Before I get going, I need to be honest. First, I’m probably not the most qualified to truly dig into whether or not Amazon’s Jack Ryan strays too far from the original Tom Clancy novels (it’s been years since I read them), or if there will ever be an actor that is as convincing in this role as Harrison Ford was in the 1990’s (I mean, let’s be realistic here). Second, I admit that I first tuned in to see if John Krasinski could successfully transform into anyone other than Jim from The Office. Third, I haven’t watched a series of any kind in years with the exception of the BBC’s Sherlock. So basically, I’m an average person who sat down with a computer and headphones this weekend to see which way this series would fall. But by the second episode, I simply couldn’t have cared less about accuracy or acting or even my lack of standards as I was too busy reeling from the internal battle resulting from a narrative that (in my opinion) flipped the script on typical “us vs them,” war games.

The story starts off with a fairly predictable plot: super smart analyst Jack Ryan (John Krasinksi) identifies a disturbing financial trail, leading to a man he has only identified as Suleiman (played by Ali Suliman), confidently predicting he could be the next Osama bin Laden. He lands the ear of his new boss James Greer (Wendell Pierce), and such begins the relationship that leads them on a manhunt of global import. Krasinski is actually quite charming as he goes about finding his footing as a numbers guy-turned-field agent, and Pierce delivers his bitter yet powerful dialogue with a fair amount of conviction, but the first episode wasn’t really anything spectacular.

But beneath the surface – under the violence and language and questionable nudity – there is a script that is making me reflect just how conflicted I am when it comes to justice…and what exactly that means.

I don’t think it’s a stretch to say shows or movies centered on conflict or war have a pretty well-defined line in the sand between us and them…between the good guys and the bad guys. Sure, a couple of those bad guys may have had a sad start and you have moments of sympathy, but the moments are just as fleeting as their seemingly-deserved defeat by the end of it. So what is different about this show? Why was I pacing across the living room floor at midnight with a husband suggesting I “drink some tea,” to calm down? Because I think the line that was always so clear has been erased. And that’s because there shouldn’t be a line.

Because all life is valuable.

I mean no lie, in one scene I was begging the “bad guy” not to do it – to show mercy and put the gun down and not follow the path of death. And not 20 minutes later, I was yelling at the “good guy” to push the button – to take out the slimy, evil jerk who was on the other end of the scope and deserved to be “removed” from the picture. And the hypocrisy of my own words hit me like a ton of bricks.

Evil or not, innocent or not, human life is human life. I have no right to pick and choose who lives and who dies. There is no value system on the “us vs them,” because at our core, we are the same.

“But Heather, that person is evil. If they live, they can kill more people and do more damage.”

I get that. Believe me, I get that. But I’m not sure I think it’s good enough for me anymore. I don’t think I am ever justified in weighing a person’s worth to the point I decide whether they live or die. As someone who claims belief in Jesus Christ, every action I take should be because I long to see everyone as Christ sees them…in such a way that my brother or sister is valued and honored and beloved as they are made in the image of their Creator.

Ultimately, how can I claim that Jesus died for my sins before I was even born but then point at the enemy and say “but He didn’t for you?”

I admit that I don’t have it all figured out and am still working through the implications of this shift, but I’m sharing it because it’s what we do at ScreenFish – we share. We use film and TV and books to explore what it means to live in community with one another and how our faith is influenced by what we watch and how what we watch encourages us to live out our faith. And right now, Jack Ryan is showing me how I need to look at another person and not see their otherness, and not look for my own reflection…but to see someone that Christ has already died for, worthy of life.

4.16 Speaking in Silence in A QUIET PLACE

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If they hear you, they hunt you.

After an alien invasion leads to the eradication of most of the human race, the survivors must live in a world of silence in order to stay alive. Directed by John Krasinski, A QUIET PLACE took the box office by storm through it’s intense storytelling and heart-felt emphasis on love for your family. This week, Steve is joined by directors Paul Muzzin and Matthew Cimone (CHASING ATLANTIS) to talk about the power of communication and the importance of listening.

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.

4.16 A Quiet Place

Thanks Paul and Matt for joining us!

The Hollars – The Comedy of Crises

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“You won’t know until you get there that you’re okay.”

Can a comically dysfunctional family deal with a looming crisis? That is the setup for The Hollars, but there’s more here than bumbling through the situation. It also provides a bit of insight into what it means to be family even in the most difficult times.

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John Hollar (John Krasinski) is a struggling artist trying to make it in New York City. He’s soon to become a parent along with his girlfriend Rebecca (Anna Kendrick). When John gets a call about his mother’s (Margo Martindale) serious health issue, he must go back to the small Ohio town he’s from and deal with his father (Richard Jenkins) and brother (Sharlto Copley) who are all pretty tied up in their own issues. All of the foibles are exaggerated for comic purposes, sometimes to the detriment of the story.

This film brings together end of life issues and the beginning of life issues. There are always fears around both. Some of those fears are about ourselves (what will become of us) and some are focused on others (who will take care of loved ones). These fears are treated with humor, but also with a good dose of pathos. One of my favorite scenes in the movie is when John volunteers to shave his mother’s head before surgery. For the nurse to have done it would have just been too cold and clinical. But as John does it, we sense an intimacy and love that could help his mother through something that is very difficult.

When birth and death are so near in a film, we should expect that we are being asked to reflect not just on mortality, but on the meaning of all that lies between those two bookends of life. John is standing in both worlds—one that is full of possibility, excitement, and joy, and one that brings grief and sorrow. We mark our lives with such events, but life is really not about either as much as it is about all that fills in between. That is what John is beginning to learn as he worries about his mother’s health and also worries about what it will mean to be a father, responsible for another’s well bring. Life is what we find between birth and death—not just ours, but the many points of transition that fill our years.

Photos courtesy of Sony Picture Classics

13 Hours: Laying It All Down

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I’m no war movie buff. American Sniper and Zero Dark Thirty proved to be gritty, heartrending films for me, in ways that previous war films aimed at the glory of war left me cold and unmoved. I was determined not to see 13 Hours: The Secret Soldiers of Benghazi, simply because I had no desire to revisit the purity of combat and the job of bravado. But after interviewing Oz Geist and Tig Tiegen, real-life soldiers from the battle, I knew I had to see the film.

Watching the series of coincidence, stupidity, oversight, and machismo that led to the fateful gunfight, I was again reminded that for sacrifice to be beautiful and moving, something must be lost.

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John Krasinski’s Jack Da Silva serves as the audience’s vantage point for the night-long standoff that took place in Benghazi, Libya, on September 11, 2012. Here, against an onslaught of Islamic insurgents, Rone Woods (James Badger Dale) led a small, elite team of private security specialists in a suicide mission to protect those working within the American embassy  and the CIA Annex in Benghazi. The action is intense, and the decision-making of Woods’ team reminds us of the power of sacrifice.

For the men of the Global Response Team, their service may have moved from the various Armed Forces (Navy Seals, Army Rangers, Marines) to privatized protection, but they remain patriots and men of honor. When Ambassador J. Christopher Stevens (Matt Letscher) arrives in Libya with too little protection, Rone and his crew know that there are problems lurking, and they ultimately feel responsible even when it’s not their fault when all hell breaks out.

13hoursThe Blu-ray edition includes over an hour of special features, including a featurette on discovering what actually happened, “For the Record: Finding the Truth Amid the Noise.” We also learn more about the real-life men who fought through those thirteen hours, in “Uncovering Benghazi’s Secret Soldiers” and the lead up to making the film possible in “Preparing For Battle: Behind the Scenes of 13 Hours.” The truth always brings us into a new avenue of seeing the film – and understanding what happened that night.

As I watched, I was reminded of Jesus’ words in John 15:13, “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” These men lay their lives down for their friends – and for the civilians who cannot defend themselves. They see their jobs as more than cash payouts, but responsibility; they recognize that they might not make it home to the life they want to live, but they’re willing to make the sacrifices anyway. And I wonder: what would our everyday lives look like if we took our jobs, our calling, our responsibilities, that seriously?