Encyclopedia of Religion and Film

Encyclopedia of Religion
and Film

Eric Michael Mazur, Editor

Copyright 2011 by Eric Michael Mazur
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a
retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording, or otherwise, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a
review, without prior permission in writing from the publisher.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Mazur, Eric Michael.
Encyclopedia of religion and film / Eric Michael Mazur.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
Includes filmography.
ISBN 978-0-313-33072-8 (alk. paper) — ISBN 978-0-313-01398-0 (ebook)
1. Religion in motion pictures—Encyclopedias. 2. Motion pictures—Religious
aspects—Encyclopedias. 3. Religious films—History and criticism—
Encyclopedias. I. Title.
PN1995.9.R4M39 2011
791.43'68203—dc22 2010041455
ISBN: 978-0-313-33072-8
EISBN: 978-0-313-01398-0
15 14 13 12 11 1 2 3 4 5
This book is also available on the World Wide Web as an eBook.
Visit www.abc-clio.com for details.
ABC-CLIO, LLC
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This book is printed on acid-free paper
Manufactured in the United States of America
 For Mia Rose & Elias Amiel . . .
. . . because I’m the dad, that’s why.
Contents

List of Entries, ix
Guide to Related Topics, xi
Preface, xiii
Acknowledgments, xv
Introduction, xvii
Encyclopedia of Religion and Film, 1
Appendix: Filmography, 471
Selected Bibliography, 563
About the Editor, 577
List of Contributors, 579
Index, 583

vii
List of Entries

Africa DeMille, Cecil B.

Allen, Woody Devil
Altman, Robert Dogme 95
American Indian Religion Dreyer, Carl Theodor
Angels Dystopia
Animated Films
Arab Film End-of-the-World Films
Australia Eucatastrophe
Europe (Continental)
Bazin, André
Belief Fellini, Federico
Bergman, Ingmar Film as Religion
Besson, Luc
Bible Films Gilliam, Terry
Black Church, The God
Bollywood Greek and Roman
Bresson, Robert Myths
Britain
Brooks, Mel Heaven
Buddhism Hinduism
Buñuel, Luis Holidays
Holocaust, The
Capra, Frank Horror
Catholicism
Censorship in Hollywood Indigenous Religions
China Islam
Clergy
Coen, Joel and Ethan Japan
Coppola, Francis Ford Jesus

ix
x | List of Entries

Joan of Arc Posthumanism

Judaism Protestantism

Kieślowski, Krzysztof Ritual

Kubrick, Stanley Russia
Kurosawa, Akira
Schrader, Paul
The Last Temptation of Christ
Science Fiction
Controversy
Scorsese, Martin
Latin America
Silent Film
Leone, Sergio
Smith, Kevin
Sports
Magic
Superheroes
Mamet, David
The Matrix Trilogy
Tarantino, Quentin
The Miracle Controversy
Tarkovsky, Andrei
Missionary Films
Theology and Film
Miyazaki, Hayao
Tolkin, Michael
Mizoguchi, Kenji
Trier, Lars von
Mormonism
Truffaut, François
Mysticism
Myth
Vampires
Ozu, Yasujirō Voodoo

Pasolini, Pier Paolo Westerns

The Passion of the Christ Controversy Women
Guide to Related Topics

Asia Mamet, David

Bollywood Miyazaki, Hayao
China Mizoguchi, Kenji
Kurosawa, Akira Ozu, Yasujirō
Japan Pasolini, Pier Paolo
Miyazaki, Hayao Schrader, Paul
Mizoguchi, Kenji Scorsese, Martin
Ozu, Yasujirō Smith, Kevin
Tarantino, Quentin
Directors Tarkovsky, Andrei
Allen, Woody Tolkin, Michael
Altman, Robert Trier, Lars von
Bazin, André Truffaut, François
Bergman, Ingmar
Besson, Luc Europe
Bresson, Robert Bazin, André
Brooks, Mel Bergman, Ingmar
Buñuel, Luis Besson, Luc
Capra, Frank Bresson, Robert
Coen, Joel and Ethan Britain
Coppola, Francis Ford Buñuel, Luis
DeMille, Cecil B. Dreyer, Carl Theodor
Dreyer, Carl Theodor Europe (Continental)
Fellini, Federico Fellini, Federico
Gilliam, Terry Gilliam, Terry
Kieślowski, Krzysztof Holocaust, The
Kubrick, Stanley Kieślowski, Krzysztof
Kurosawa, Akira Leone, Sergio
Leone, Sergio Pasolini, Pier Paolo

xi
xii | Guide to Related Topics

Russia Bible Films

Tarkovsky, Andrei Clergy
Trier, Lars von Devil
Truffaut, François Dystopia
End-of-the-World Films
Films and Film Genres Eucatastrophe
Animated Films Film as Religion
Censorship in Hollywood God
Dogma 95 Heaven
Holocaust, The Holidays
Horror Jesus
The Last Temptation of Christ Joan of Arc
Controversy Magic
The Matrix Trilogy Mysticism
The Miracle Controversy Myth
Missionary Films Posthumanism
The Passion of the Christ Controversy Rituals
Science Fiction Theology
Silent Film Vampires
Sports Women
Superheroes
Westerns Religious Traditions
American Indian Religions
Geographical Regions Black Church, The
Africa Buddhism
Arab Film Catholicism
Australia Greek and Roman Myths
Bollywood Hinduism
Britain Indigenous Religions
China Islam
Europe (Continental) Judaism
Japan Mormonism
Latin America Protestantism
Russia Voodoo

Religious Characters, Concepts,

and Symbols
Angels
Belief
Preface

This work is not intended to be a catalogue of all films made in the global history
of filmmaking that include, represent, touch on, or mention specific religions or
religion in general. Such a compendium would be dated the instant it was pub-
lished. Just a few years ago, for the Material History of American Religion Project,
scholar Judith Weisenfeld created a “Selected Filmography of American Films,”
identifying films in which, in her opinion, religion was “particularly important.”
The list was filled with just over 100 titles, many of them classic American films.
The filmography that follows the entries in this encyclopedia identifies hundreds
of films—many, to be sure, for which religion is not “particularly important”—
and that is only for films mentioned in one or more of the entries of this volume.
And it is not intended to be an exhaustive list.
Part of the reasoning behind the editorial decision to focus on general top-
ics related to religion and film and not on specific films has to do with debates
over definitions. First, because there is no fixed definition for religion, how can
one confidently identify all of the films related to it? Sure, The Passion of the
Christ (2004) is about a portion of the Christian scripture, but what about E.T.
the Extra-Terrestrial (1982)? The central figure comes from beyond this world,
has a fondness for children and outcasts, is pursued by the government, is resur-
rected from the dead, and promises to return to those who love him; do the strong
allegorical elements make it a religious film? Many clearly and overtly religious
films—films in which religion is “particularly important”—are not mentioned in
this volume, films that, in conversation, most rational people would identify as
related to religion in one way or another. Yet The Rocky Horror Picture Show
(1975) is mentioned several times. Second, as technology stretches the way we
understand and integrate various media, how can one confidently identify film? Is
it an analog product, or can it include digital work? Is it only that which is “con-
sumed” in theaters, or can it include the “made for television,” “straight to video,”
and Internet downloadable markets? For greater ease of use, we have made edito-
rial decisions on both of these issues. By including some things and not others,

xiii
xiv | Preface

we have decided what is religion, and what is film. But we recognize that they are
editorial decisions dependent upon the limitations of publishing and not scholarly
decisions based on any determination of a definition of either religion or film. For
this reason we have placed greatest emphasis on film as the word is traditionally
understood; that is, that which has been released and shown in a theater. (Other
forms—documentaries, made-for-television programs, and straight-to-video
products—are included where necessary, and detailed information is provided
when available.)
The goal of this encyclopedia is not to catalog all religious film—whatever
that might be—but to give readers some of the tools they might need to evaluate
visual products for themselves and enable them to create their own list of films
that have some religious content in some form or other. In addition to including
analyses of religion and film (however defined) in various parts of the world and
in relation to various—but not all—religious traditions (and how they are repre-
sented in film), we have included entries on various themes common in the dis-
cussion of religion—heaven, God, angels, the Devil—as well as a few on issues
of significance to the field of religion and film. We have also included entries on
particular directors whose work reflects artistic confrontation with issues related
to religion (in whatever form). Specific films have been highlighted herein only
insofar as they are part of a larger cultural conversation.
It is our hope that this encyclopedia will be a starting place for an investigation
of the interaction of religion and film. The film titles and suggestions for further
reading provided in each entry, and the selected bibliography at the end of the
work, should provide the reader not with the final word on any given topic but with
enough information and food for thought as a bridge to the next step into more
specific aspects of this conversation.
Acknowledgments

There are a number of people who deserve thanks: Rhoda Himmel Mazur, my
mother, who introduced me to old “classic” films, and Marvin Irwin Mazur, my
father (Z’’L), who would see any film as long as my mother told him that it was a
“musical comedy”; Jody Risa Mazur, my sister, who lent me a variety of materials
(often without her remembering); Lillian Weintraub, my aunt (Z’’L), who sent me
articles on religion and film from the time I started graduate school until her death
in 2008; Bill Mandel, annual host of the seasonal “Mandel Bijou”; Benton Knight
(who dragged me to see Be My Bloody Valentine) and Scott Baradell (who dragged
me to see C.H.U.D.); Robin Alperstein and the editorial staff of The Declaration
(at the University of Virginia, way back in 1986–1987), who published “Reel to
Reel,” a movie review column I coauthored with Scott Baradell, which was based
on the work of Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert (only funny, and in print); and of
course Claudia Anne Mazur, my wife, who has humored me when I have insisted
that we watch any number of questionable films with the declaration that “it’s for
work, dear.” To all of these people, I say thank you. You have encouraged—or at
least tolerated—my often childish musings about film, and I think that with this
volume, I have become both better educated and humbled by my professional
digression into this field.
I also want to thank Lynn Malloy Aranjo—whom I barely knew—and Rob
(“RobRobRob”) Kirkpatrick—whom I know a bit better—for letting me pitch the
idea of the encyclopedia to Greenwood in the first place. Rob was particularly
patient as I worked out a number of the details, and for that I am grateful. And
yes, Rob, you were right; the entry on Krzysztof Kieślowski is dedicated to you.
Thanks also to Debra Adams, who saw the project through its hardest stretch, and
Mariah Gumpert at ABC-CLIO, who provided the last bit of energy and assistance
needed to get it all finished. If patience is a virtue, you are all saints.
I must also thank the hard-working people in the Interlibrary Loan office at
the Ellen Clarke Bertrand Library of Bucknell University, particularly Candice
Hinckley, who worked tirelessly locating many of the materials listed in the

xv
xvi | Acknowledgments

bibliography. Without knowing it, they helped me forget the difference, if only for
a moment, between a large research institution and a relatively small teaching col-
lege. A special thanks also to Julia Miller (Bucknell ’08) and Stephanie Johnson
(Virginia Wesleyan College ’11) for their dedicated filmographic work, and Brit-
tany Hayes (Virginia Wesleyan College ’12) for her fact-checking.
Contributor Melanie J. Wright passed away just as this project was going into
its final production. She was a friendly colleague and an insightful scholar in many
fields, but particularly in the study of religion and film. She will be missed.
I would also like to thank all of the contributors, particularly those who got
their entries in on time and according to style. You are a very talented bunch of
scholars and critics, and I have enjoyed reading all that you’ve sent me. I hope you
like what I’ve done with your work!
Eric Michael Mazur
Introduction

And God said, “Let there be light!”

Although in its current form the study of the relationship between religion and
film is a relatively young field, the relationship itself dates to the advent of film in
the late 19th century. This is no surprise—people of faith have used the latest tech-
nologies in the service of their beliefs throughout human history. Whether it was
in the process of binding books (the word bible itself comes from the Greek for
“book”) or the printing press (not only to produce the Gutenberg Bible, but also
some of the earliest printed versions of rabbinic literature in Judaism), or later via
radio, television, or the Internet, members of religious communities representing
their beliefs have sought new technologies as ways of transmitting those beliefs
to others—of preaching their respective gospels, as it were. In the case of film, some
of the earliest works were representations of biblical narrative, not only because
of their ready familiarity to viewing audiences—as there was no sound, familiar
stories obviated the need for much written dialogue—but also because, in a new
industry, there were no royalties to pay for using the Bible. The early years of
film also coincided with a number of other aspects of American religious history;
for example, because many considered the new film media to be crude, it was an
industry left for “the masses,” in particular immigrants (many of them Jews from
central and eastern Europe) who were looking for ways to establish themselves
in their new country. It was therefore also a medium that needed reform to help
the masses become “civilized,” and was thus a platform through which to teach
(or scold) the masses about proper behavior. As the 20th century progressed, the
film industry would become a location for the social integration of non-Protestant
religious communities in particular; Jewish studio owners and Catholic social con-
servatives would engage in a battle over film content and production, each acting
out (albeit subconsciously) a behavior that symbolically represented to them the
best model of being “American”—the entrepreneurial spirit on the one hand and
the Puritan perspective on the other. More recently, film has come to represent

xvii
xviii | Introduction

not only the location where religious communities present themselves (or are pre-
sented by others) to a mass audience—be it Buddhism, Hinduism, Islam, or any
of the world’s religious traditions—but, in the United States and elsewhere, where
the very role and meaning of religion (of any kind) in society is examined and
debated.
Interestingly, the relationship of religion to film goes deeper still. Whereas re-
ligious reflection, theology, and related pursuits can be found throughout the his-
tory of any religious tradition, the study of religion as an academic field—wherein
a religious tradition, its truth claims, and its members are subject to analysis of a
higher level of objectivity—coincides in some respects with the history of film. To
be sure, roots of the academic study of religion are to be found in the Enlighten-
ment, but as a self-conscious academic tradition, most scholars would identify the
late 19th century as a no less reasonable place to find the origin of the field than any
other. The result of this coincidence is that, as the academic study of religion has
matured in the 20th century and into the 21st, its self-understanding has changed,
as have the objects of its analysis. In the area of film, most materials dated before
World War II are theological in nature: how should the religious community (most
often Christianity) respond to the theological and social threat presented by film?
Many materials from the 1960s and 1970s tend to focus on “high” art films—the
works of Bergman, Truffaut, and others—that either specifically address theologi-
cal issues or reflect the existentialist trends of the time. Materials from the late
1980s forward are much broader in focus and include examinations of “low” art
films—more commercial, popular, and accessible works. Most recently, the study
of religion and film has exploded to include analyses of just about any film for its
religious or quasi-religious content or significance. As the academic study of reli-
gion has matured, the definition of religion has expanded so that (within reason)
almost anything can be examined using the tools of the field. This has enabled
scholars of religion particularly to be able to investigate any film—or even the
process of filmmaking or film viewing—as valuable material in the investigation
of religion in society.
This reveals an important point about the present work. Most of the contribu-
tors have a deep interest in film, to be sure, and some even have expertise in the
relatively new field known as film studies. However, more often than not, the work
presented in the following pages is by scholars of religion who are examining film
as the source (in some way) of insight into the place and meaning of religion in
the contemporary world. (This also means that the work is less historic and more
contemporary in its focus.) Most of the analysis is Anglocentric—that is, focused
on the English-speaking world, and even within that, within the United States—
and because of that, it is also heavily influenced by the cultural dominance of Prot-
estant Christianity. However, an effort has been made to cast the view a bit more
 Introduction | xix

broadly to include the world’s religious traditions beyond Protestantism as well as

to areas of the film-producing world outside of the United States.
In the modern world—and maybe most explicitly in the United States—the
place of religion has shifted most significantly in the last four decades, resulting in
a culture where many—but by no means all—Americans can justify their personal
pursuit of spiritual satisfaction outside the walls of a religious institution. Some
find it through “extreme” sports, others through communing with nature, and still
others in their experience with an ever-expanding network of electronic media.
Indeed, in a recent census taken in England, nearly 400,000 citizens identified
the “Jedi” and the Star Wars warrior tradition as their religion, making it, as The
Economist has reported, “the fourth-largest faith in the land” (November 28, 2009:
62). Although the means of delivering that media has changed dramatically over
the past century—from the nickelodeon to the cinema palace, the mall multiplex,
television, videocassettes, DVDs, and the Internet—the place of the story is still
central in our society. There will always be a place for myths in our world, even as
the forms of “movies” change. That being the case, it seems likely that there will
always be a connection between religious impulses, religious institutions, and the
film narrative as well.
A

Africa

To understand the relation of religion and film in Africa, it is useful to bear in

mind the historical background and political contexts in which different films have
been produced. One might first consider religion and film in colonial Africa, and
then move on to consider in more detail some examples from postcolonial film-
makers. There are an increasing number of African filmmakers who have helped
or are helping to ensure that certain parts of this diverse continent, made up of over
50 nation states, are becoming centers for cinematic productivity and excellence.
Given the growth of filmmaking, it is no longer possible to characterize African
cinema as an arid desert sparsely populated by a few films of significance. Inevita-
bly, in a continent with a population of around 1 billion people and covering over
30 million square miles, one must be selective and highlight some of the most
significant examples of the interactions between religion and film in Africa.
During the first decades of cinema, moving pictures were invariably made
and used by incomers to Africa. Some foreign missionaries, who had previously
used magic-lantern slide shows, began to use moving pictures for educational or
evangelistic purposes, while colonial authorities also embraced the new technolo-
gies. Sometimes this involved the use of portable projection equipment, and at
other times it led to the construction of semipermanent outdoor—or even indoor—
cinemas. These film showings made for popular entertainment, often attracting
large crowds. Responses could be mixed, and they evolved as film became more
commonplace. For example, Amadou Hampaté Ba, a well-known Muslim author
from Mali, recalled the 1908 screening of a film in his village, which the French
governor insisted that the local population should view. Religious leaders con-
sidered all film evil, and many of the villagers who attended refused to watch.
Some time later, Ba convinced his mother to see a film that was being shown in
her village; when she did, she came to the conclusion that the film was not a reli-
gious threat. In light of her viewing experience, her view of cinema changed from

1
2 | Africa

hostility to acceptance. As in many other parts of the world suspicion of cinema—

partly inspired by religious beliefs—is tempered and sometimes even replaced by
appreciation for film.
The role of the colonial powers is also noteworthy. Several western govern-
ments observed how film was put to use as a tool for propaganda by the Bolshe-
viks in postrevolutionary Russia during the 1920s and 1930s, and endeavored to
copy this example in various locations throughout Africa. Perhaps best known of
all was the Bantu Educational Kinema Experiment (BEKE)—supported by the
British Colonial office, the International Missionary Council, and the Carnegie
Trust—which was set up in 1936 for work in East Africa. Over several years, it
produced 35 black-and-white films covering topics such as soil erosion, infant
malaria, and the Boy Scouts. In the first two years of its existence, the team who
made up BEKE toured around East Africa, showing these and other educational
films to over 100,000 people. In 1939, the Colonial Film Units were established
to persuade African audiences to support Britain through the Second World War.
These units have been criticized for idealizing the West and caricaturing African
culture and traditional religions. Scarcity of filming resources and strict colonial
regulations ensured that during the first half of the 20th century, few films were
actually produced by Africans.
It was not until the later 1950s and 1960s that films were produced in sig-
nificant numbers by Africans. In North Africa, the film director Youssef Chahine,
who was born in Alexandria, is seen by many as one of the fathers of modern-
day Egyptian cinema. With over 40 films to his name, Chahine’s depictions
of Islam have provoked extensive debates. Although some of his most famous
productions—such as Bab el-Hadid (Cairo Station, 1958)—largely skirt around
religious tensions within Egyptian society, many of his other films depict religious
practices and beliefs. For instance, in his short (23-minute) television documen-
tary al-Qahira munawwara bi ahliha (Cairo as Told by Youssef Chahine, 1991),
he portrays people in Cairo who end up praying in a crowded street. In a scene
depicting this practice, the viewer’s attention is directed to the shoes—removed for
prayer—and how each pair, differing in size and shape, represents the individuality
of its owner, and his humanity. That is not to suggest, however, that Chahine is
uncritical of aspects of Islam, especially its fundamentalist strands. Whether in
modern-day Cairo or 12th century Andalusia (for al-Massir [Destiny], 1997), he
is not afraid of interrogating extreme forms of belief through his filmmaking. Per-
haps his most controversial film was al-Muhajir (The Emigrant, 1994), which
depicted the prophet Joseph’s flight into Egypt. The film was banned twice in
Egypt, though it proved to be hugely popular when finally released.
The success and expansion of the Pan-African Film and TV Festival of Ouaga-
dougou (FESPAC), begun in 1969 in Upper Volta (now Burkina Faso), highlights
 Africa | 3

the growth of African cinema. Films have been produced in Francophone coun-
tries such as Cameroon, Mali, and Niger as well as Algeria, Tunisia, and Morocco.
Many of these films touch on religious themes, practices, or beliefs and, for some
scholars, embody a “decolonization of the gaze.” This commonly includes a ques-
tioning of the religious traditions that were perceived as being brought to Africa.
A good example of this can be found in Ceddo (Outsiders, 1977). Directed by
the well-known Senegalese filmmaker Sembene Ousmane (1923–2007), it takes
place at an unspecified time in the past in a Wolof-speaking village. Through a
simple but memorable narrative, it portrays a traditional culture desperately trying
to hold onto its former ways of life while resisting the missionary efforts of Islam
and to a lesser extent Christianity, two colonizing traditions that are depicted as
inextricably connected with the slave trade. Like Chahine, Ousmane is not afraid
of using his film narratives to critique what he perceives as the darker sides of
religious traditions.
Religion is not always the focal point for criticism. Other directors draw upon
well-known religious stories in order to reflect critically on the political situation
in their own countries. For instance, the Malian filmmaker Cheick Oumar Sissoko
(1945–) produced La Genèse (Genesis, 1999), which retells the story of Jacob,
Esau, and Hamor from the Hebrew Bible, setting the story in a vast, rocky African
desert. Sissoko cinematically offers insights into some of the major difficulties
facing not only the African continent but also into the “fratricidal conflict” within
his own country of Mali. Sissoko was attracted to Genesis (specifically chapters
23 to 37) partly because of the text’s global appeal and for its foundational role
in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. In this case film becomes a way of retelling
a well-known religious story in a less familiar context, providing a cinematic re-
interpretation of this part of the book of Genesis.
Other filmmakers use religious practice or belief as one element within their
cinematic narrative. Set in postconflict Chad, Mahamat-Saleh Haroun’s film Daratt
(Dry Season, 2006) tells the story of Atim, a young man who is commanded by
his blind grandfather to avenge the killing of Atim’s own father. This simple and
powerful tale invites viewers to reflect on revenge and justice in situations where
the effects of violent conflict are still raw. Nassara, the killer, has become a baker.
Even though he has a wardrobe full of guns, he is portrayed as not only haunted
by his past but also in search of peace through religious devotion and generosity
to the poor. On several occasions he even invites Atim, his would-be avenger, to
join him at prayers in the local mosque. In this film, like many other recent African
productions, religion does not drive or dominate the narrative but rather plays an
important role in enriching the story and characterizations.
In spite of the work of directors such as Chahine, Sissoko, and Sembene, there
are several African countries that have yet to produce their first full-length feature
4 | Africa

film. In many cinemas or video shops in Africa, films from Hollywood or “Bolly-
wood” (a nickname for the Hindi film industry) often dominate the screens and
shelves. The main exception to this is found in Nigeria (“Nollywood”) and Ghana,
where locally produced video films have taken the place of cinematic imports.
These countries are experiencing a renaissance in local filmmaking. This is an
extraordinary phenomenon of particular significance for those analyzing the rela-
tion between film and religion; in these locally produced movies, religion plays a
deeply significant role, reflecting local beliefs and practices.
These films have circulated to both East and South Africa, becoming increas-
ingly popular throughout Anglophone Africa. With their religious themes, they
translate well across the continent, where other countries are undergoing similar
religious transformations. Increasingly they are carried by satellite broadcast, in-
cluding the BSkyB pay-per-view network, which has access to African expatriates
in Europe. Some commentators claim that Nollywood now produces more films
than either Bollywood or Hollywood.
These locally produced African films are not without their critics. One area of
particular controversy is the way in which religious figures are portrayed in many of
these video films. Traditional African religious leaders are frequently caricatured,
stereotyped, or even demonized. They can be the cause of sickness, violence, or
death. They are sometimes portrayed as having direct links with actual spirits, who
in turn are depicted as having real power. In the Ghanaian film Namisha (1999),
the protagonist Slobo exerts terrible revenge on those who have stolen his wife and
were responsible for the death of his two daughters. He uses Namisha, one of the
spirits beholden to the earth spirit Abadzen, to seduce his enemies and then bru-
tally murder them. Ministers from the historic mission churches (such as the Meth-
odists, the Presbyterians, and Anglicans), on the other hand, are often represented
as well-intentioned but ultimately ineffectual and marginal to the outcome of the
story. Pastors from the independent Pentecostal or charismatic churches, by con-
trast, are typically portrayed as dynamic and spiritually powerful, and they often
use the accoutrements of power, such as mobile phones or computers, alongside a
large black leather-covered Bible. Frequently, it is they who overcome—or at least
help to overcome—the evil forces. At other moments the battles between the faiths
are more explicitly represented. In the final scene of the Nigerian film Owo Idan
(Magic Money, 1993), for example, the Christian pastor and African traditional
priest call and even shout for the help of their respective gods. They both dance on
the spot and gesticulate aggressively, but the traditional priest is literally laid low,
overwhelmed by the more powerful force called upon by the Christian pastor.
This battle is taken a step further in Namisha, in which one character commits
his life to the elemental spirit Obadzen. He has a secret room to which he adjourns
to pray to this spirit; she declines to assist him, so he tries to use his own power.
In a scene reminiscent of science fiction, he hurls out curses from his room, and
 Africa | 5

with these curses go superimposed circles of light thrown toward his opponents in
the sitting room, accompanied by echoing sound effects. The pastor, who has been
praying with three women associates, is knocked down and lands on the sofa. The
praying in tongues does not abate; if anything, it continues more vigorously. The
pastor recovers, and this time rays of light burst from him and his associates, knock-
ing out their opponent. Some audiences in Ghana laughed out loud at the weakness
of the traditional religionist portrayed in this sequence. Such a response and the
actual conflict presented have their roots in Ghana’s and Nigeria’s colonial past,
where traditional religion has been commonly portrayed in particularly negative
terms. These films stand in sharp contrast with better-known and more critically
acclaimed feature films such as Souleymane Cissé’s Yeelen (1987), set in a mythi-
cal 13th-century Bambara culture (now Mali). This film depicts a father angrily
hunting his son with the help of two servants, who are carrying a magic post. Un-
like the films discussed earlier, which depict the “inferiority” of certain traditions,
Yeelen celebrates magical forces and references mysterious African gods.
Films emerging from beyond the Anglophone and Francophone parts of the
continent also reflect aspects of Africa’s diverse religious landscape. The religious
dimension of these films merits further careful research. To what extent are Holly-
wood depictions of African religions characterized by either romanticisation or de-
monization of the unknown “other,” and why have certain events in Africa captured
the imagination of western filmmakers? Consider how the 1994 Rwandan geno-
cide has been the subject of several recent feature and documentary films, includ-
ing Shooting Dogs (2005), which has a Catholic priest as the central protagonist.
This fictional story is based upon real events and was filmed at a secondary school
in Kigali, where several thousand Tutsis were actually killed. The screenplay raises
explicit questions about theodicy and the place of religious ritual in the presence of
gangs of machete-waving interahamwe (literally, “those who stand together”).
South Africa, like Nigeria, is one of the few countries in Africa where cine-
mas are not being closed and replaced by video/DVD houses and cafes, and films
emerging from South Africa increasingly are being shown around the globe.
Mark Dornford-May’s Son of Man (2005)—the first South African film to debut
at the Sundance Film Festival—is based upon The Mysteries (a play by Dimpho
Di Kopane) and is set among the townships of Cape Town. Amid civil war, Jesus
practices and preaches the peaceful way of nonviolence. This is an original con-
tribution to the Jesus movie genre, inviting audiences to reflect on what might
happen if someone started to embody and articulate Jesus’ original message in
contemporary Africa. Here is another example of a film that attempts to translate
a biblical story into an African context. A second film—this one based on ac-
tual events in South Africa—is the documentary Long Night’s Journey into Day
(1995), by Deborah Hoffman and Frances Reid, which is structured around four
memorable stories that emerged from South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation
6 | Allen, Woody

Commission. The inclusion of religious leaders, beliefs, and practices is important

in several of these stories, but they are by no means instrumental elements of the
dominant theme.
From Son of Man to Long Night’s Journey into Day and everything in be-
tween, it is clear that the filmmakers represent religion in Africa in many different
ways. Films emerging out of Africa not only critique contemporary religious prac-
tice and question religious history but also celebrate religious traditions and even
employ religious stories, beliefs, and practices as a creative resource in a way that
can ultimately enliven cinematic narratives.
Jolyon P. Mitchell
See also: Bible Films; “Bollywood”; Catholicism; Indigenous Religions;
Islam; Jesus; Protestantism; Missionary Films; Russia.

Note
This entry draws upon and adapts material from Jolyon P. Mitchell, “Decolonising Reli-
gion in African Film.” Studies in World Christianity 15, no. 2 (2009): 149–161.

Further Reading
Meyer, Birgit. “Money, Power and Morality: Popular Ghanaian Cinema in the Fourth
Republic.” Ghana Studies 4 (2001): 65–84.
Meyer, Birgit. “Pentecostalism, Prosperity and Popular Cinema in Ghana.” Culture and
Religion 3, no. 1 (2002a): 67–86.
Meyer, Birgit. “Prayers, Guns and Ritual Murder: Popular Cinema and Its New Figures of
Power and Success.” Politique Africaine 82 (2002b): 45–62. English translation of the
French published text.
Mitchell, Jolyon. “From Morality Tales to Horror Movies: Towards an Understanding of
the Popularity of West African Video Film.” In Belief in Media: Cultural Perspectives
on Media and Christianity, edited by Peter Horsfield, Mary E. Hess, and Adán M.
Medrano, 107–121. Ashgate, UK: Aldershot, 2004.
Ukadike, N. F. “Critical Approaches to World Cinema: African Cinema.” In The Oxford
Guide to Film Studies, edited by John Hill and Pamela Church Gibson, 569–575.
Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press, 1998.

Allen, Woody (1935– )

Woody Allen, one of the most prolific writer-directors in modern cinematic his-
tory, was born Allan Stewart Konigsberg on December 1, 1935, but changed his
name in 1972, when he first became a newspaper columnist. Although born in the
 Allen, Woody | 7

Bronx, New York, his family moved often and he spent most of his childhood in
Flatbush, Brooklyn. His great love of Manhattan came early in life, when he first
visited there at the age of six with his father. Manhattan would eventually prove to
be the shooting location of most of his films, with one film being entirely devoted
to this great borough (Manhattan, 1979). Many even consider Manhattan to be a
principal character in his films.
Allen was raised in a Jewish home and attended Hebrew school for eight years.
Although Jewish characters regularly appear in his films, he has denied, in inter-
views, that Judaism is specifically on his mind as he works on his films, as it is not
part of his artistic consciousness. He ultimately rejected the Jewish faith and belief
in God, believing this religious background to have been forced on him. He has
said that he believes neither in God, justice, nor the afterlife and has assiduously
avoided direct contact with the world of organized religion. However, he often
expresses his wish for some persuasive alternative to the godless universe and
hostile environment in which he finds himself. He expresses a full appreciation
for the search for genuine religious faith that some people go through and even
envies the person who is religious naturally without being somehow brainwashed
into it by organized religion. He rejects standard religious solutions to life but is
sure that the point of living is not simple hedonism. He is a believer in chance and
thinks that most people are often unaware of what a big role it plays in life (or do
not want to admit to it). He considers chance to be a principal factor in good rela-
tionships as well as other aspects of life, maintaining that often being in the right
place at the right time shapes our destinies.
Most of Allen’s films are not overtly religious, but there are constant allu-
sions to religious themes in most of his films, with some individual films almost
entirely devoted to religious questions, broadly construed. He can be said to have
a genuine interest in and obsession with religious and philosophical themes as
opposed to social or topical themes. But one of the key questions in examining
Allen’s films is to what extent the characters represent his views, and one must be
careful in assuming that any of the specific characters give voice to his personal
convictions. He acknowledges that although there are similarities between him
and his characters, there are also differences. Overall, though, Allen’s films do not
offer solutions as much as they question and challenge our most dearly held and
comforting norms, beliefs, and ideas.
Several religious themes figure prominently in Allen’s work. It is impossible
to do justice to all of it, since he has directed over 35 films, but some of his more
recent productions—Love and Death (1975), Stardust Memories (1980), Zelig
(1983), Broadway Danny Rose (1984), Hannah and Her Sisters (1986), Crimes and
Misdemeanors (1989), Deconstructing Harry (1997), and Match Point (2005)—
explore his more overtly religious/philosophical issues: the existence of God; the
8 | Allen, Woody

problem of evil (particularly the Holocaust); the meaning of life; morality, justice,
and their relationship to luck/chance; and death.
The foundational concept of monotheistic religious traditions is the belief in
the existence of a God who is benevolent and kindly disposed toward creation,
particularly humans. However, it is the idea of such a God that is most troubling
to Woody Allen and many of the characters he plays, who are often struggling to
believe in a God in the midst of the often hostile environment in which they find
themselves. Says Mickey (Hannah and Her Sisters) when he hits bottom: “I felt
that, in a godless universe, I didn’t want to go on living. . . . Then I thought, what if
I’m wrong? What if there is a God? After all, nobody really knows that. But then
I thought, no, maybe is not good enough. I want certainty or nothing.”
This agnosticism/atheism, often presented in a lighthearted manner, still re-
veals the deep existential struggle of what life means without the existence of
God. In Stardust Memories, Sandy suggests that “To you I’m an atheist; to God
I’m the loyal opposition.” In Shadows and Fog (1992), Kleinman admits that he
would love to believe in God but cannot; he is unable to make the necessary leap of
faith. In Husbands and Wives (1992), when one of the characters quotes Einstein’s
famous denunciation of quantum theory, that “God doesn’t play dice with the uni-
verse,” the Allen character replies that “He only plays hide-and-seek.” Although
those who believe in God are not necessarily ridiculed for their personal faith,
organized religion is sometimes viewed as an obstacle to God. In Deconstructing
Harry, the main character says, “Look, wouldn’t it be a better world if not every
group believed they had a direct line to God?”
One of the main reasons for doubting the existence of God is the reality of
evil; if God is all-loving and all-powerful, then why do bad things happen? The
implicit question is then how one can believe in a God who seemingly allows this.
As the main character in Stardust Memories observes, “I look around the world
and all I see is human suffering.” For Allen, the Holocaust in particular is the ulti-
mate example of evil, in which God apparently did nothing to prevent the death of
6 million Jews. In Annie Hall (1977), his two main characters watch a four-hour
documentary on the Holocaust. In Deconstructing Harry, when one character is
asked if he cares about the Holocaust, he replies, “Not only do I know that we lost
six million, but the scary thing is that records are made to be broken.” In discuss-
ing a film on the Holocaust in Hannah and Her Sisters, one character asks, “Not
how could it possibly happen, the question is, why doesn’t it happen more often.”
Mickey replies, “If there is a God in the world, why is there so much evil? Why
were there Nazis?” The most poignant discussion of the problem of evil and the
Holocaust takes place in Crimes and Misdemeanors, when the main character vis-
its his childhood home and has a visual memory of a family dinner conversation.
His aunt argues that one cannot believe in a God who allowed the Holocaust
 Allen, Woody | 9

to happen, and that history belongs to the winners. His father, in contrast, argues
that life without faith in God is meaningless, and that he would rather believe in
God than the truth.
Doubt in the existence of God and belief in the reality of the seeming random-
ness of evil inevitably raise the question of the meaning of life. Does life have
meaning? And if so, what is it? Allen’s characters often pursue this question with
a vengeance, and ultimately the answers that most of them find have nothing to
do with God or organized religion, although religion is sometimes the first place
where such a question is posed. In a more lighthearted moment, the main character
in Zelig visits a rabbi in a synagogue to ask about the meaning of life. The rabbi
responds to him in Hebrew; when Zelig indicates that he doesn’t understand He-
brew, the rabbi offers to give him Hebrew lessons for $600. Although Allen does
not find the meaning of life in God or religion, his films are still generally full
of hope and the possibility that happiness and meaning are possible. Most of his
characters discover meaning in relationships, which are a central theme in Allen’s
work. Although people are almost inevitably in romantic relationships with the
wrong persons, they are often happy when they are in relationships that seem
right. In Zelig, the narrator says, “In the end, it was, after all, not the approbation
of the many, but the love of one woman, that changes his life.” In Celebrity (1998),
Lee says to a woman he is romantically interested in, “If the universe has any
meaning, I’m looking at it.” In addition to relationships (including sex and love),
one’s work, art, and creativity also contribute significantly to one’s purpose and
the meaning one may find in life. Allen’s main protagonist is often an artist (usu-
ally but not always a writer) whose experience of life is enhanced greatly by his or
her creations and contributions to the world. The main search for most of the main
protagonists in Allen’s films is for authenticity and to becoming one’s true self.
Some form of therapy is often used as an aid, but more important is the goal of not
sacrificing oneself simply to achieve worldly success. These themes are addressed
quite specifically in Another Woman (1988) and Alice (1990).
The issue of morality is also in the forefront of many of Allen’s films. In
the seeming absence of God, how can one know how to live morally? What is
morality? Is the universe morally neutral or does it have a moral structure? Most
religious traditions maintain that morality ultimately comes from God—that it
is somehow woven into the very fabric of the universe, able to be discerned by
those who are willing to search. In the absence of an objective moral order, the
issue then becomes if there is no God, is morality socially constructed, personally
constructed, or completely absent? Allen is particularly interested in the question
of justice in the absence of a God. In Crimes and Misdemeanors and Match Point,
the protagonist is a person of weak moral character who seems to get away with
a serious crime; since, in the absence of human retribution, there is no God to
10 | Allen, Woody

punish the perpetrators, Allen asks whether these individuals are truly guilty. He
believes that since there is no God, there is no justice; that is, since your morality
is up to you, you can get away with something immoral or criminal. As in real
life, Allen’s belief in chance enables both of these characters to escape the nega-
tive consequences of their actions. In Match Point, Chris says that most people do
not want to admit how much of life is based on luck. Thus, while individuals may
strive to be good, Allen believes that, in terms of reward and punishment, life is
often not fair and luck often trumps justice.
Finally, Allen focuses on the question of death. The film Love and Death deals
most specifically with this issue, but it is a recurring theme in many of Allen’s films,
often dealt with humorously. In the absence of a God—and in particular some kind
of afterlife—death becomes something ultimately to be feared and avoided. In
Anything Else (2003), Jerry’s novel is titled The Absolute Terror of Facing One’s
Death. Allen’s characters often fear their own eventual demise, whether through
sickness, the actions of others, or by suicide. As Allen observes on the death of
philosophy professor Luis Levy, in Crimes and Misdemeanors, suicide is the ul-
timate rejection of life. His own perspective, as expressed in his films, is that
although death cannot be avoided and should not be sought, the focus should be
on experiencing one’s life to the fullest. In his one musical, entitled Everyone Says
I Love You (1996), deceased persons/ghosts at a funeral dance happily before the
funeral participants to the song, “Enjoy yourself, it’s later than you think!” (Thus
Allen gives a nod to The Twelve Chairs [1970], directed by his former colleague
Mel Brooks on Your Show of Shows [NBC, 1950–1954]).
Despite Allen’s seemingly pessimistic view, his films are ultimately hopeful,
suggesting that meaning is discernible, happiness is possible, and the search for
authenticity worthwhile.
Donna Yarri
See also: Belief; Brooks, Mel; Holocaust, The; Judaism.

Further Reading
Blake, Richard A. “Looking for God: Profane and Sacred in the Films of Woody Allen.”
Journal of Popular Film and Television 19, no. 2 (1991): 58–66.
Blake, Richard A. Woody Allen: Profane and Sacred. Lanham, MD: Scarecrow, 1995.
Commins, Gary. “Woody Allen’s Theological Imagination.” Theology Today 44, no. 2
(1987): 235–249.
Hirsch, Foster. Love, Sex, Death, and the Meaning of Life: The Films of Woody Allen,
revised and updated. New York: Limelight, 1990.
Yacowar, Maurice. “The Religion of Radio Days.” Journal of Popular Film and Television
16, no. 2 (1988): 80–86.
 Altman, Robert | 11

Altman, Robert (1925–2007)

In many ways an antireligious director, Robert Altman was the most applauded
auteur of the 1970s. His personal vision of how Americans really thought and
lived in the immediate post-Vietnam era was very successful both in critical
and box office terms. But as Hollywood became obsessed with blockbusters,
Altman’s penchant for making difficult and unprofitable films made him a pariah
in studio boardrooms; no one wanted to use him to direct because no distribu-
tor would touch his projects. Fox studio actually refused to distribute A Perfect
Couple (1979) and HealtH (1980), the last two films he made for them. During
the 1980s, Altman made a series of low-budget films culminating in The Player
(1992), a brilliant satire of the whole Hollywood system. The 1990s saw the rise
of new semi-independent companies like Miramax and Fine Line, who discovered
how advertising could make an Altman film marketable, enabling him to find a
whole new audience who despised Hollywood’s blockbuster obsession. Suddenly
the maverick was in favor again.
Unlike George Lucas, Francis Ford Coppola, and Martin Scorsese—all the
products of film school—Altman came into the industry in the traditional way,
first serving a long apprenticeship making industrial films in Kansas City and
then, from 1964, spending seven years directing television series. His lucky break
came when he was invited to direct M*A*S*H (1970) after 13 other directors had
turned down a poorly written script based on a the memoirs of a doctor in the Ko-
rean war. Altman caught the mood of post-Vietnam disillusionment perfectly and
was promptly lionized when his witty, cruel comedy became a $35 million box
office success.
Altman left his clearly individual stamp on every one of his movies. M*A*S*H,
with its counterculture suggestions as to the futility of the Korean War, fit the disil-
lusionment of many Americans over the Vietnam War. Neither the book nor the
screenplay were remarkable, but in Altman’s hands the result was what Roger
Ebert called a “peculiar marriage between cinematography, acting, directing and
writing.” One might expect a depiction of any medical unit close to the front lines
to be improvised, but for 1970 audiences the surgical scenes so drenched in gore
were unexpected, as was the humor emerging from the desperate needs of the doc-
tors and wounded. The previously unknown lead actors Eliot Gould and Donald
Sutherland were more than brilliantly funny; their type of humor attracted a new
generation of counterculture enthusiasts. Surprisingly, Altman gave the movie a
strong misogynistic tone—head nurse Maj. “Hot Lips” O’Houlihan becomes an
object of scorn and derision. He also represents religion in a less than flatter-
ing light: the two “traditionally” religious characters—Father Mulcahy and Major
Frank Burns—are represented respectively as either inept or insane. M*A*S*H
12 | Altman, Robert

has a whole series of unforgettable scenes that are typical in an Altman movie;
brilliant on bizarre characterization, weaker on story line.
Altman’s next film, Brewster McCloud (1970), was a curious mixture of
western and Indian themes. Advertised as “something else from the director of
M*A*S*H,” it grossed less than $1 million domestically. Altman left MGM, say-
ing “I wouldn’t make a film at MGM today if they gave me 100% financings
and 100% of the profits,” accurately summarizing his attitude toward the big stu-
dios for the rest of the decade. This film was followed by McCabe & Mrs. Miller
(1971), which is now regarded as a brilliant subversion of the western genre but at
the time puzzled audiences as much as critics with its attack on the traditional con-
ventions of the western. The narrative suggests that the opening of whorehouses
was a major contribution to the settling of the American Northwest, and the film’s
images are fogged to suggest faded photographs of the period. As in M*A*S*H,
Altman presents institutional religion critically; an image of a church with its con-
ventional associations of refuge and security—in which we see a cross placed on
the church steeple against a golden sunset—is juxtaposed with an interior image
of the church’s unfinished state and its pastor, a mean little man. When, at the
end of the film, the church burns, the congregation flocks to preserve a building
they clearly did not use. Overlapping soundtracks, an Altman obsession, confuse
the narrative, and the film failed at the box office, in spite of critical acclaim.
Altman was able to continue to direct by starting his own company, Lion’s
Gate Films, which focused attention on his own films in development and helped
sponsor other new directors, like Alan Rudolph and Robert Benton. His develop-
ment of an eight-track recording system allowed him to make films that were very
different stylistically; in California Split (1974) and Nashville (1975), audiences
followed multiple characters and heard what they were saying, which would have
been impossible using more conventional recording techniques.
Nashville is an epic film using the country music industry as a metaphor for
American consciousness and character. Documentary in style, it is in fact a highly
dramatic, partly improvised account of 24 different lives struggling to find them-
selves in the fiercely competitive country music industry—stars, those who want
to manipulate them, and those who want to be like them. The movie follows the
ups and downs of 12 different characters’ lives, none of which is more moving
than that of Ronee Blakley, whose media success victimizes and destroys her.
Film critic Pauline Kael, one of Altman’s greatest supporters, wrote that in both
McCabe and Mrs. Miller and Nashville, Altman’s artistic vision transcends the
limitations of the genre.
Altman was not a deeply psychological director like Ingmar Bergman; his
success lies in capturing the glittering surfaces of American life and consistently
subverting genre expectations. His use of a roving camera, improvised sound, and
 Altman, Robert | 13

confused overlapping voice tracks capture the ephemeral quality of American life.
The Long Goodbye (1973) was Altman’s deconstruction of the American crime
movie, as was Thieves like Us (1974), its delicate successor.
Altman made a string of increasingly unsuccessful films in the late 1970s and
early 1980s; even his much hyped musical version of Popeye (1980) failed to bring
big returns at the box office. Kael suggested that, despite the obvious intelligence
behind the making of the film, audiences found it neither funny nor easy to follow;
as a result, they stayed away. Altman became persona non grata in Hollywood,
and no studio would finance his films. He retreated to make movies for cable and
ultra–low-budget movies, but he never lost his director’s vision. Film historian
Robert Kolker points out that Altman constantly attempted “to render the subjec-
tive states of female consciousness.” He began this with That Cold Day in the Park
(1969), continued with Images (1972), and fully refined it in 3 Women (1977),
“empty vessels in an empty landscape.”
In Come Back to the Five and Dime, Jimmy Dean, Jimmy Dean (1982), five
women reveal the hideous truth behind their pitiful series of pretensions. Thanks to
Altman’s tender, tactful, and often improvised style of directing, he allows his five
actresses to provide in their performances what was lacking in the script. Altman
sees the family as a barren place, its patriarchal attitudes as victimizing women,
and gender expectations as representing many of society’s ideological contradic-
tions. This is also particularly true of Short Cuts (1993), set in Los Angeles, where
gender warfare is going on among lower-middle-class and working-class white
couples in every sprawling neighborhood.
Ultimately, Altman mellowed slightly and agreed to make a biographic film
about Vincent Van Gogh called Vincent and Theo (1990), which captured some of
the agonies of the artistic temperament. Shortly thereafter, an independent group
backed him in The Player, one of the best satires on Hollywood ever made. Altman
has always excelled in portraying betrayal, and in The Player, everyone is narcis-
sistic and all are betraying one another.
Altman’s career in the 1990s was uneven; by abandoning the three-act struc-
ture and tight narrative construction, all of his films seem to wander from cameo
to cameo, their surfaces brilliant, their depth banal and empty. Short Cuts was oc-
casionally brilliant, but it worked mostly as a screen version of assorted Raymond
Carver short stories. Independent distributor Miramax expected Prêt-à-Porter
(1994) to be a savage portrait of the fashion industry, but again Altman seemed to
pull his punches.
One may ask why Altman continued to make films throughout the 1980s and
1990s when he seemed to have so little to say. One guess is that he was an old-fash-
ioned journeyman film director who was never happier than when he was working
on the set, whether he knew what his film was going to say or not. He worked with
14 | American Indian Religion

the same team of actors and technicians as much as he could and liked to keep
working, which is why he has left such a large body of film work. Ultimately his
place in the pantheon of great film directors is uncertain. If you portray only the
surfaces of life and avoid considering the eternal verities, perhaps your work is
doomed to be seen only as a passing reaction to the tragedies and foolishness of
life in general and the Vietnam War in particular. Altman seemed to despise reli-
gion, because he believed it to be an extension of hated patriarchal attitudes that
he believed ruined the lives of the many women he portrayed in his films. Few will
deny that, in the early 1970s, Altman perfectly caught the mood of America gen-
erally and limned the institutional forms of religion specifically. He consciously
challenged the clichés, concepts, and conventions of American cinema and offered
encouragement to other directors. The new directors of the 21st century owe much
to Altman’s iconoclasm.
Andrew Quicke
See also: Bergman, Ingmar; Coppola, Francis Ford; Dogme 95; Scorsese, Martin.

Further Reading
Giles, Paul. “Ritual and Burlesque: John Ford and Robert Altman.” In American Catholic
Arts and Fiction: Culture, Ideology, Aesthetics, edited by Paul Giles, 296–323. New
York: Cambridge University Press, 1992.
Kolker, Robert. A Cinema of Loneliness: Penn, Stone, Kubrick, Scorsese, Spielberg, Alt-
man, 3rd ed. New York: Oxford University Press, 2000.
McGilligan, Patrick. Robert Altman: Jumping Off the Cliff. New York: St. Martin’s/Griffin,
1989.
Self, Robert T. Robert Altman’s Subliminal Reality. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota
Press, 2002.

American Indian Religion

The commercial film industry exists to serve its customers. A few productions
may stretch formulas and formats to serve smaller niche markets, but Hollywood’s
products generally feature characters and story lines that mainstream audiences
will recognize and understand. Most of what Americans think they understand
about Native people is a hodgepodge of half-fiction and full fabrication based on
ethnocentric stereotypes perpetuated in academic as well as popular media. Thus,
with very few exceptions, commercial films reveal very little about American
Indian histories, experiences, or religions as they actually were or are; rather, they
 American Indian Religion | 15

reveal what mainstream Americans imagine them to be. As many commentators

have pointed out, these imagined Indian realities tend to swing between two ex-
tremes: the romantic conceit of doomed, nature-based nobility and that of primi-
tive savagery.
Both of these stereotypes are illustrated in the earliest stages of film history in
two works by D. W. Griffith. A Pueblo Legend (1912) features a romantic hero’s
quest joined with an exotic fantasy of Pueblo life and religion. In it, Mary Pickford
plays a young Hopi woman. Kachinas—Hopi spirit figures responsible for bring-
ing rain and fertility, often represented in ritual by masked male dancers—are
used for intrigue, lending an illusion of authenticity to this depiction of American
Indian life, but their representation bears almost no relation to reality. Griffith’s
production of The Battle at Elderbush Gulch (1913) swings to the opposite pole.
Mindlessly and uninterestingly savage, the Indians of this film display no evidence
of religious inclination at all, unless one counts the witless jumping around meant
to indicate some kind of ceremonial “Dog Feast,” followed by farcical gestures
of supplication before battle. In this film, Indians provide only a comic backdrop
(“Eat dog, live long!”) to the story line of Anglo settlers and their plucky kids beat-
ing back the odds to establish domesticity on the wild frontier.
The Vanishing American (1925), based on the novel by Zane Grey, takes a
far more complex approach to the conflict of cultures and religions. Informed by
increasing public awareness of the failure of U.S. Indian policies and the resulting
deprivation endured by Native communities, Grey’s novel tells the story of this
injustice through the Diné (Navajo) character Nophaie, played by Richard Dix, a
well-recognized star of the silent screen era. Nophaie possesses natural nobility
and high morality, suffers from the greed and perfidy of the assistant government
agent, and in the end dies a martyr’s death, as if to open the way to eventual recon-
ciliation between his people and the whites. Yet in a concession to popular sensi-
bility mandated by the film’s producers, Grey allowed the harsh critique of corrupt
missionaries in his novel to be excised from the film. In the movie’s climax, the
dying Nophaie hears the words of the Bible and “finally understands.” Christianity
is presented as the only possible path to any final resolution of conflict between
whites and Indians and thus the only future for aboriginal nobility.
This theme—that primitive nobility that can be saved, if temporarily, only by
the even greater nobility of a wise, non-Indian stranger—is replayed in Broken
Arrow (1950). The film—loosely based on historical fact—tells the story of Co-
chise, the Chiricahua Apache resistance to white incursions, and the sympathetic
government agent Tom Jeffords. Cochise is portrayed as having an ethereal,
Anglo-Saxon kind of wisdom—an aboriginal King Arthur. But it is only Jeffords’
courage, his commonsense American wisdom, and his full humanity (demon-
strated by his falling in love with an Apache maiden) that makes the interlude of
16 | American Indian Religion

peace possible. Jeffords falls in love with Sonshiray during her coming-of-age cer-
emony, when Cochise escorts the young agent into her lodge to receive her bless-
ing. It is a strange scene that crosses mystical and romantic intimacy. The young
woman’s face is charged with beauty and power. The clear intent is for non-Indian
audiences to be captivated. Not surprisingly, members of the Apache community
have tended to find this scene completely fictional and offensive, likening it to the
filming of a love scene on a church’s altar, an isolated ethnographic fact that has
been inserted to give the film an illusion of authenticity but that is then filled in and
distorted to serve the needs of the story.
In essence this is the same technique used in Dances with Wolves (1990)
40 years later. A wise white man, somewhat at odds with his peers and his times,
penetrates the mysterious heart of a noble but doomed Native society, where he
falls in love. Only his intervention can save the Indian camp—temporarily at
least—from disaster at the hands of the vile and violent unenlightened citizens
he has left behind. This film won wide acclaim for its sympathetic depiction of
the Lakota camp as well as its attention to details of costume and language despite
the fact that it used a recycled and culturally offensive plot formula.
But perhaps the most absurd rendition of this formula came between the two
films, 20 years before Dances with Wolves, in A Man Called Horse (1970), which
portrays a bored British nobleman who, seeking adventure, is captured and ad-
opted into a Lakota camp—or, rather, a ridiculous parody of a Lakota camp where
everyone is crude, venal, and depraved. The film portrays events that are not only
historically unlikely but also culturally inconceivable. In one such case, a member
of the Lakota community is ignored and allowed to starve after her husband is
killed in battle. The captive gradually earns respect through his courage and good
breeding until he decides to prove himself once and for all by undertaking the or-
deal of the Sun Dance. Again, the filmmakers distort reality, locating the ritual in a
Mandan lodge rather than a Sun Dance circle. The ritual is presented as a mascu-
line test of endurance rather than a ritual of profound personal sacrifice. In the end,
after his Indian maiden is also slain, the nobleman saves the camp and replaces the
fallen chief, leading the community into an uncertain future.
The one film from this period that most consistently draws admiration and
approval from Native audiences for its depiction of Indian life makes no reference
to ceremony at all. Rather, Arthur Penn’s Little Big Man (1970) relies on humor,
tolerance, and humanity to portray the Cheyennes as real people. The emphasis is
on ordinary life, sometimes amid catastrophic injustice, rather than imagined cer-
emonial exoticism. This approach—perhaps a more comic or tragicomic approach
to religion—finds its way into a different kind of American Indian film after 1990,
where story lines and characters more fully reflect Indian realities; and in so doing,
these films address human conflicts and experience more convincingly.
 American Indian Religion | 17

Beginning in 1989, a series of films have melded modern Indian stories, set-
tings, and characters with Hollywood film conventions. Jonathan Wacks’s film
Powwow Highway (1989) combines the standard formulas of the road movie, the
buddy movie, the coming-of-age movie, and the jailbreak movie, but it also in-
fuses setting, characters, and most of all comedy from modern Native American
experience. One could say that the film is profoundly religious in a completely
comic way, not only in the presentation of Philbert, a modern warrior gathering his
medicine, but in the way triumphs and tragedies of the past animate the present.
In one particularly poignant scene, Philbert visits the Washita Massacre site and
begins to experience what happened there in 1868.
Some of these same themes motivate such films as Thunderheart (1992),
Smoke Signals (1998), and The Doe Boy (2001). In Thunderheart, Val Kilmer
plays a half-Lakota FBI agent assigned to the Pine Ridge Reservation amid what
some have called the Lakota Civil War. His ancestral past comes alive and enables
him to see through and expose a web of lies and corruption that is poisoning and
exploiting reservation people. Smoke Signals enlivens the journey and personal
discovery themes with authentic Indian humor and an unequaled exploration of
fatherhood and forgiveness. The Doe Boy is similarly authentic, but with a non-
standard main character, an Indian hemophiliac, in an eastern Oklahoma setting.
Other films, like The Business of Fancydancing (2002) and Expiration Date
(2006), follow this lead, unhinging old stereotypes by focusing on characters with
mixed or alternative identities and vulnerabilities. In Fancydancing, a hard-to-
classify impressionistic film, the main character is a young gay Indian writer and
the tone is brutally honest, with comic edges. Expiration Date is a romantic com-
edy whose main character is of mixed ancestry and extremely neurotic, convinced
that he is destined to die on his 25th birthday.
Overt expressions of religion appear in only one of these films. Thunderheart
includes brief glimpses of a sweat lodge and ghost dancing as well as hints of
human-to-animal transformation. The references are fleeting, both visually and
in the dialogue, conveying a sense of unseen power elicited by ceremony without
letting the viewer’s gaze fix too long. The effect challenges our assumptions about
how things work, and especially about who is in control, rather than indulging our
craving for exoticism.
With the exception of Fancydancing, all of these films are Hollywood produc-
tions. By more fully incorporating Native experience, they offer new challenges to
mainstream audiences. Yet in a widely circulated commentary on HBO’s produc-
tion of Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee (2007), Kiowa/Delaware playwright and
author Hanay Gieogamah announced that it was time for Native actors, writers,
and aspiring directors and producers to abandon Hollywood altogether. He
concluded that the producers of American popular entertainment would never
18 | American Indian Religion

relinquish their cherished illusions

about Indian people. The only solution
for Native artists was to work within
their own tribal communities, creat-
ing their own films and television
dramas based on their own under-
standings and histories and intended
for their own audiences.
This may be what Sherman
Alexie began to do with Fancydanc-
ing. Alexie has said that he made this
film as a response to Smoke Signals,
in which director Chris Eyre worked
Alexie’s short stories into a formula
feature film package. Alexie’s own
film has had a limited but dedi-
cated audience. It may be the first
attempt by a Native filmmaker to
make a full-length Indian film that
owes nothing to Hollywood beyond
American director Chris Eyre in Santa Fe,
New Mexico, 2002. AP Photo/Jeff Geissler. technology.
It could be said that Eyre ac-
complishes something similar in
Skins (2002), his own film. Based on the novel by Adrian C. Louis, the film is
set on the Pine Ridge Reservation, dwelling as its residents do in a world shot
through with alcoholism and violence despite a long and deep cultural inheritance.
Even heroes with strong hearts are compromised in this environment, yet they rise
above it with humor, generosity, and courage. These traditional values permeate
the film without the depiction of a ceremony to make them believable.
Yet there are other productions today that go even further to answer Geio-
gamah’s call for local films by and for American Indians. Some of these embody
more profoundly indigenous approaches to religion and to depiction itself. Some
are homemade video productions accessible only on YouTube or similar Web sites.
Others, such as films by Diné (Navajo) filmmaker Norman Brown, are designed
for use in tribal schools or by tribal social service agencies. Brown’s Diné films
use only Diné actors, with dialogue in the Navajo language.
Introducing a 2007 preview of a film he was making about domestic violence,
Brown reported that a hataali (a singer, or “medicine man”) had been employed
on site to help take care of the actors and crew. This was necessary because, ac-
cording to traditional knowledge, in acting out scenes of domestic violence, the
 Angels | 19

actors were invoking the presence of that violence as an entity among them and
thereby revealing its workings for those who might need to know. Ceremony was
therefore provided to deflect the harm that this could bring to the actors and crew.
This sensitivity points toward what might be the most radical Native critique yet
of Hollywood’s industry of dreams, rejecting the notion that images, stories, and
characters on film are not real but rather an illusion, or “pure entertainment.” Film-
making in Hollywood has traditionally been seen as just another kind of storytell-
ing. From traditional Native points of view, storytelling is not just entertainment,
not just illusion. It teaches its audience, but more than that, it begins to form and
re-form the world in which those audience members live.
Christopher Jocks
See also: Indigenous Religions; Westerns.

Further Reading
Buscombe, Edward. “Injuns!” Native Americans in the Movies. London: Reaktion, 2006.
Deloria, Philip J. Indians in Unexpected Places. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas,
2004.
Kilpatrick, Jacqueleyn. Celluloid Indians: Native Americans and Film. Lincoln: Univer-
sity of Nebraska Press, 1999.
Rollins, Peter C., and John E. O’Connor, eds. Hollywood’s Indians: The Portrayal of the
Native American in Film, expanded edition. Lexington: University Press of Kentucky,
2003.
Singer, Beverly R. Wiping the War Paint Off the Lens: Native American Film and Video.
Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2001.

Angels

Angels—from the Greek angelos (“messenger”)—have been a recurrent presence

throughout the history of film. Even as the religious identity of the world has be-
come more fractured, plural, and complex, the fascination with such (normally)
benign supernatural beings has, if anything, intensified, and a veritable host of
cinematic angels, sacred and profane, have assembled in recent years. Screen-
writers and directors have deployed them variously as narrative devices, comic
sparring partners for unenlightened mortals, and participants in political allegory.
Angels might have divine origins, but they currently possess more than symbolic
value; they are big business and valuable property for commercial as well as es-
thetically or spiritually inspired films.
20 | Angels

Why do incarnations of these ethereal beings continue to captivate the popu-

lar imagination? From one perspective, an increase in screen time suggests that
cinema is now more spiritually conscious than ever before. From a more skep-
tical viewpoint, their proliferation in film (and their more frequently witnessed
demonic counterparts) is further confirmation that our technologically sophisti-
cated world seeks temporary respite in counterfeit spirituality rather than belief in
authentic religious traditions. Some argue that angels appeal even to individuals
who have no specific religious affiliations because they are pleasant memories of
former faith. Whatever they signify, the evolving image of celluloid angels is a
way for cinematic artists and their audiences to explore multiple ethical, esthetic,
and religious questions.
For millennia, narratives describing encounters between angels and ordinary
human beings have been fundamental to popular culture and belief. Angelic fig-
ures appear throughout the books of the Bible, in both Jewish and Christian writ-
ings, from Genesis to Revelation, including the mysterious and unnamed figure
with whom Jacob wrestles (Genesis 32) and the angel Raphael, who in the Book
of Tobit (in the Apocrypha) becomes an enigmatic guide and protector to Tobias’s
family. Western art abounds with alternative and conflicting representations of
angelic figures and their interventions in human history. If the scriptures rarely
give descriptions of the physical appearance of the angels, painters and filmmak-
ers have found many ways of giving physical form to ethereal entities. Angel ico-
nography has changed to reflect social, cultural, and religious changes over the
centuries. In the 16th and 17th centuries, signifiers of the angelic included vast,
unfurled wings echoing the imposing physical presence of characters from clas-
sical mythology; these motifs became a visual shorthand and have since been de-
ployed both creatively and rather unimaginatively on screen.
The Annunciation (Luke 1:26–38)—in which the Archangel Gabriel appears
before Mary and tells her that she will bear the son of God—has become the model
for many films in which a heavenly representative unexpectedly visits the earthly
realm; such an angel is often responsible for engendering a profound change in
the life of one person and also for illuminating the darkness of a fallen world. The
annunciation narrative is reworked less reverently in Kevin Smith’s controversial
Dogma (1999): Bethany, a Roman Catholic whose faith is in crisis, is visited by
Metatron, a heralding seraphim and voice of God, who informs his disbelieving
charge that she is a descendant of one of Jesus’ brothers or sisters and that she has
a holy task to perform. In the film’s conclusion, this unlikely pilgrim learns that
she, like Mary, is miraculously pregnant. This late-20th-century rewriting of a
miracle story crucial to Christianity places Smith’s work in a tradition of rendering
angels visible in a language specific to the culture in which the artist is working.
Smith’s vision of angels and his overall engagement with spirituality is directed
 Angels | 21

at a generation that is more likely to be visually sophisticated and conscious of

pop culture than biblically literate. Yet the film’s visual references are not always
modish. Smith borrows Renaissance iconography in the film’s final stages: Loki
and Bartleby strip away their “slacker” disguises to reveal heavenly armor and
vast wings.
The Bible and biblical painting are not the only sources for filmmakers at-
tempting to represent supernatural beings. Paradise Lost (1667), John Milton’s
poetic attempt to “justify the ways of God to man,” remains a highly influential lit-
erary representation of angels, both pure and mutinous. Today’s celluloid, literary,
or sculpted angels differ markedly from the poised gracefulness of Fra Angelico’s
Gabriel of The Annunciation (1430–1432) or the infant innocence of the cherubim
attending Rembrandt van Rijn’s The Ascension of Christ (ca. 1636). Yet, in their
own peculiar reflections of contemporary culture, postmodern angels, such as the
disaffected, Generation X–style rebel seraphs in Dogma, are part of a long tradi-
tion of wrestling with angels. Scores of filmmakers, not all of whom have been
people of traditional or creedal faith, have explored the implications of miracu-
lous interventions in daily life. These films typically use a narrative template that
echoes both classical and biblical models of meetings between the divine and the
mundane. The encounters between mortal and supernatural being are transforma-
tive, and not always only for the human participant in such a meeting: for example,
in Wim Wenders’s Der Himmel über Berlin (Wings of Desire, also known as The
Sky Over Berlin, 1987), Damiel takes on flesh after falling in love, and Clarence
Oddbody, the guardian angel in It’s a Wonderful Life (1946), receives his wings as
a reward for saving his human charge from despair.
This second example is the most famous—and influential—of cinematic visi-
tations by a ministering angel. It’s a Wonderful Life, Frank Capra’s first post–
World War II film, is habitually regarded as a sentimental, “feel-good” movie
partly because it is traditionally screened on television during the Christmas sea-
son. Yet this fable of aspiration, disappointment, and redemption in small-town
America reflects the ambivalent moral climate of the country at the end of World
War II. In its defining sequence, George Bailey, a scrupulous banker and family
man, is dissuaded from committing suicide by a fledgling angel named Clarence.
Bailey, who faces bankruptcy and ruin at the hands of a corrupt rival, is con-
vinced that his previously modest, quiet life amounts to nothing of significance.
Clarence leads George around a parallel version of his native Bedford Falls and
allows him to witness the devastating consequences for those he knew and loved
were he never to have been born. Institutional religion plays only a marginal role
in the film, and the presence of an angelic mediator is a narrative device, echo-
ing Charles Dickens’s ghostly messengers in his frequently adapted short story
A Christmas Carol (1843). Yet Capra’s themes of personal responsibility, individual
22 | Angels

sacrifice, and the pre-eminence of community have contributed to the movie’s sta-
tus as a 20th-century cinematic parable. Its central conceit of a dream vision has
been much parodied, alluded to, and redeployed in film and television in the five
decades since its initial (commercially unsuccessful) release. For all the sentiment
that now surrounds the film’s device of angelic intervention, the saving presence
of Clarence Oddbody also has some dark implications, suggesting that in postwar
America, only divine intervention could provide salvation.
Is It’s A Wonderful Life more fairy tale than authentic Christian parable? One
scholar identifies the lack of a connection between Clarence and any traditional
religion, suggesting that the angel brings a humanistic appreciation of life rather
than a religious conversion. Yet as a catalyst for George’s redemptive encounter
with his own story, Clarence does perform a religious function. In showing this
despairing man the figurative hell that Bedford Falls would have become without
his apparently small, insignificant life, this comic figure takes on a stronger reso-
nance with biblical angels such as Gabriel. He is the carrier of a message, one who
confronts a frail human being with a truth deeper than the destructive deception to
which George, in his despair, had succumbed.
The wistful quality of It’s a Wonderful Life and its interest in the close rela-
tionship between the everyday and the eternal anticipates later angel movies that
are otherwise esthetically very different from Capra’s film. The muted magic real-
ism of Wim Wenders’s Wings of Desire similarly represents angelic presence in
the world as both commonplace and strange. The slender narrative is structured
around the story of a male angel who wants to experience sexual love. Wenders’s
angels, clad in their part bohemian, part military overcoats, are philosophical,
melancholic, and strangely alienated from the world that they observe. They seem
to have no special powers and engender no extraordinary or supernatural occur-
rence. Instead, they listen to the innermost, unarticulated spiritual thoughts of or-
dinary Berliners and attend those individuals who suffer and despair, silently and
invisibly offering unexplained comfort. Wenders’s film asks crucial spiritual ques-
tions regarding human desire and the ravages of history in a subtle filmic language.
Its engagement with memory and meaning, flesh and spirit, desire and prayerful
longing has strong theological resonance, but the narrative is never explicitly reli-
gious in an institutional or creedal sense. The film is very playful. In an audacious
move, Wenders cast Peter Falk, famous the world over as the fictional detective
Columbo, to play himself, an actor working on a World War II film set in Berlin.
Yet this high-risk, self-conscious device has an engagingly absurd twist; Falk re-
veals himself to be a former angel, one who chose to fall and who now revels in the
simple pleasures. Belief in God or discussion of divine purpose is not mentioned,
and the purpose of Berlin’s angels, beyond their silent ministrations to the lost and
lonely of the city, is never quite made explicit. Wings of Desire was written and
 Angels | 23

produced before the end of the so-called Cold War, and as such, the film’s spiri-
tual language is inflected by a visible sign of political division: as the angels gaze
down on the city, one structure is visible—the Berlin Wall, the symbolic and literal
division between the Communist East and the free-market West. Wenders’s angels
have an ambiguous relationship to both religious belief and political reality; they
seem simultaneously to emerge from a world of violent materialist conflict and to
be remote from transient human concerns.
In In weiter Ferne, so nah! (Faraway, So Close, 1993), a semisequel to Wings
of Desire, the director returned to the world of Berlin’s angelic host to discover a
very different city in which the landmark that famously dominated the first film,
the wall dividing East and West, had been destroyed. During the years between the
two films, as Germany and the world witnessed a monumental political change,
Wenders had experienced an intense personal transformation. Raised a Roman
Catholic, he abandoned the church in 1968, was heavily influenced by socialist
ideals, and later became engaged with Buddhist teaching. Yet in the late 1980s,
Wenders recovered his Christian faith (though he did not return to the Roman
Catholic communion) and Faraway, So Close is visibly influenced by this reli-
gious shift. The film begins with a quotation from the Gospel of Matthew on the
relationship between vision and holiness: “The eye is the lamp of the body, if your
eyes are good, your whole body will be full of light. But if your eyes are bad,
your whole body will be full of darkness” (Matt. 6:22–23). This explicit allusion
to Christian scripture certainly reflects a less abstract framework for Wenders’s
angels, and the film does explore its moral and political contexts directly. In this
sequel, Cassiel follows Damiel’s example, and chooses to fall, to become human,
and to face a world not only characterized by the kind of simple pleasures now
enjoyed by his friend but also one scarred by shocking new degrees of greed and
violence.
Faraway, So Close, however, is not the sole inheritor to Wings of Desire.
City of Angels (1998), Brad Siberling’s melodramatic, big budget reworking of
Wenders’s distinctively art-house movie, is considerably more conventional in
narrative terms than its parent text. Siberling eschews the aloof, monochromatic
viewpoint of the angels so vital to Wenders’s original, but the film has a number of
visual continuities with its forerunner. A public library, one of the recurring spaces
in Wings of Desire, is “home” to many of the angels in the American remake, a
delicate but resonant reminder of the textual origins of angels within many cul-
tural traditions but also a symbol of an age of reason, order, and learning that has
banished all superstitious belief in mythic phenomena. As Nathaniel Messinger
(“hedonist, glutton, former celestial body and recent addition to the human race”),
who performs a role equivalent to Peter Falk’s fallen angel in the original film, la-
ments to Seth of mortals: “They don’t believe in us anymore.”
24 | Angels

City of Angels is a less subtle and cerebral experience than the European film
on which it is based. Yet, whatever its limitations and commercial aspirations,
Siberling’s interpretation of the subject matter produces a considerably more vis-
ceral narrative; the scene in which Seth and a recovering Messinger plunge into
the ocean produces a much fuller sense of the simple human pleasures craved by
ethereal beings. The film represents a different idiom, an alternative genre for ex-
ploring the implications of the angelic and its possible intersections with a human
world. Siberling’s angels, the invisible guardians of a sun-kissed California, wear
the same arresting dark trenchcoats as their cold-war antecedents. Like Wenders’s
Damiel and his fellow silent witnesses of Berlin, the Californian angels stand on
top of their city’s vast skyscrapers, taking a panoramic view of a world they can
assist but not be full participants in. The shots of these heavily clothed, wingless
angels standing on the Californian shore, apparently hearing the soundless music
of sunset and sunrise, is a truly arresting image, representing Siberling’s effort to
reinvest contemporary film with a sense of the sacred. Although his vision of the
heavenly host has little in common with the great painters of the Renaissance, Si-
berling is using a visual language specific to his historical moment to explore the
divine possibilities of landscape and identity. The plot is more conventionally dra-
matic than Wenders’s original, but it also depends on a transformative encounter
between transience and eternity. Seth and Maggie, like Damiel and Marion before
them, discover in each other’s radical difference a sense of holiness; the skeptical
surgeon learns to trust the invisible, and the former angel, in his shocking experi-
ence of grief, recognizes the value of delicate, transient life as gift.
Kevin Smith’s iconoclastic but improbably devout Dogma presents a radical
contrast in tone to both Wings of Desire and its Hollywood remake. Angels derive
from our most sacred traditions—a cultural space above and beyond the mess and
moral confusion of daily human activity—but their fictional representations do not
always behave in ways that reflect the highest of spiritual ideals. If Raphael’s godly
messengers appear perfect, the angels of Smith’s work are frequently defined by
an all too familiar humanity. Loki and Bartleby, the renegade angels from Dogma,
might demonstrate a righteous anger and violent contempt for the frail and fallen
people they meet on their journey across the United States. Their conduct and
attitudes, however, are emphatically mortal in their propensity for error and self-
justification. Smith’s brisk blurring of sacred ideas and profane language, coupled
with a scorn for certain forms of religious authority, precipitated public protests
in the United States and calls for its original distributor, the then Disney-backed
Miramax, to abandon the film. The conservative Catholic League was particularly
incensed by the film’s disrespectful portrayals of priests and its ostensibly liberal
attitude toward abortion and sexuality. Although demands for censorship were
not entirely surprising, many critics missed the distinctively Christian message
of Dogma. Despite its blithely irreverent (and frequently scatological) approach
 Angels | 25

to religious tradition, Smith, a practicing Catholic, insisted that his intention was
to create an authentic “celebration of faith.” He compared his controversial film
with the Psalms of David, insisting that dissatisfaction with organized religion
only intensified his desire to honor authentic faith in God. Dogma, like Smith’s
earlier low-budget films, is littered with coarse language, allusions to drug abuse,
and jokes about sex but, uncharacteristically, the narrative also includes epiphanic
moments in which skeptical characters have their faith renewed. The conclusion
features a restoration of divine order and a final defeat for Loki and Bartleby that
seems positively orthodox. Dogma is certainly flawed—it is theologically naïve
and rather simplistic—but few films have wrestled so explicitly with the major
challenges of Christian doctrine and none has combined anarchic, crude satire
with an attitude of faith to such engagingly absurd effect. Smith’s film, like City
of Angels, focuses on the problems and exhilaration posed by free will: in Smith’s
film, the rebel angels are angry that humanity wastes the opportunity to exercise
its freedom creatively and compassionately; the angels are jealous that God has
granted these lower, sinful beings a gift that is not given to his heavenly host. In
City of Angels, Messinger, by contrast, actively encourages Seth to realize that this
liberty to choose is available to the whole of creation. Both films use angels to
defamiliarize ideas regarding liberty, personal choice, and agency.
Although some have observed that angels remain central to the western cul-
tural imagination, they have scornfully concluded that such figures are no longer
sublime. The inference that mass culture, most specifically commercial television
and the market for New Age paperbacks narrating supernatural encounters, de-
stroys the aura necessary for the sacred to survive is both compelling and dubious.
Angels have, in some quarters, become commodities, fetish objects to be bought
and sold. Cherubs and seraphs emblazon everything from elegant art prints to pen-
cil cases. Yet, in their strange, absurd, and haunting celluloid incarnations, angels
might be re-viewed as creatures, real or imagined, who point beyond a world of
commerce to a realm of transcendence and humane possibility. Film might even be
a way of resacralizing the angelic. The frequency with which these angels take on
flesh is a reminder of the mystery of incarnation that lies at the heart of Christian-
ity. Film might accurately be described as “angelic,” since it is a message-bearing
medium. However we construe this strange, indefinable figure, the angel shows no
sign of withdrawing from the popular imagination. In an age of religious uncer-
tainty, even fictional versions of these messengers seem to offer comfort. Celluloid
angels—fallen or ethereal—continue to provide a delicate link between sacred and
secular worlds.
Andrew Tate
See also: Capra, Frank; Censorship in Hollywood; Devil; God; Heaven; Smith,
Kevin.
26 | Animated Films

Further Reading
Bloom, Harold. Omens of Millennium: The Gnosis of Angels, Dreams, and Resurrection.
New York: Riverhead, 1996.
Fowkes, Katherine A. Giving Up the Ghost: Spirits, Ghosts, and Angels in Mainstream
Comedy Films. Detroit, MI: Wayne State University Press, 1998.
Grubb, Nancy. Angels in Art. New York: Artabras, 1995.
Ruffles, Tom. Ghost Images: Cinema of the Afterlife. Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 2004.
Schofield Clark, Lynn. From Angels to Aliens: Teenagers, the Media, and the Supernatural.
Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press, 2003.

Animated Films

Although general religious themes appear in a wide variety of animated films,

a smaller but significant number overtly incorporate specific religious stories,
concepts, or practices into their story lines. Disney’s Fantasia 2000 (1999), for
example, includes a visualization of the biblical story of Noah’s ark. Adapta-
tions of classic religious stories are not all that common in theatrically released
animated films, but among the most prominent are The Prince of Egypt (1998),
Jonah: A VeggieTales Movie (2002), and Muhammad: The Last Prophet (2004).
Disney’s Hercules (1997) may be the best-known animated adaptation of classical
mythology.
Animated adaptations tend to prioritize entertainment over fidelity to the
source material, and most adaptations invent characters and situations to “flesh out”
the received traditions. The Prince of Egypt, for example, follows the lead of The Ten
Commandments (1956)—and many biblical scholars—by identifying Rameses II
as the pharaoh; in order to make the relationship work, Moses’ adoptive mother in
the film is Seti I’s wife, not his daughter (as in the Exodus account). The Moses–
Aaron relationship is inverted to the advantage of the Moses–Rameses relation-
ship; Moses first meets Zipporah, his future wife, in Egypt before he encounters
her as described in Exodus 2, and all of the significant characters are represented
significantly younger than their biblical counterparts. Disney’s Hercules plays fast
and loose with Greek mythology: chronology is rearranged to place the Trojan
War and the exploits of Achilles and Odysseus prior to Hercules’s adventures;
Hercules is recast as the fully divine son of Zeus and Hera rather than the illegiti-
mate half-human son of Zeus and Alcmene, who, with her husband, Amphitryon,
have been reassigned as peasants; some of Hercules’ famous labors are assigned to
him from other Greek heroes, such as killing the Minotaur (Theseus) and Medusa
(Perseus), and the Pegasus is taken from Bellerophon and made a gift to Hercules
 Animated Films | 27

from his divine parents. By contrast, because of the Muslim tradition eschewing
any visual depiction of Muhammad, Muhammad: The Last Prophet (following the
live-action film The Message, 1976) always features Muhammad behind a curtain
or in a scene that is filmed from Muhammad’s point of view so that the audience
sees what he sees. Muhammad’s voice is never heard in the film—a third-person
narrator quotes what he says.
Animated films that mention or feature the God of western monotheism tend to
treat that God with great respect and deference, avoiding visual depictions—even
if the divine presence may be detected by visible phenomena—preferring divine
revelation via a disembodied voice or an angelic or terrestrial messenger. Both The
Prince of Egypt and Jonah feature scenes in which God speaks to a chosen mes-
senger, but in both God is represented by a disembodied voice. Only in one scene
in The Prince of Egypt does God’s voice seem to have a visible source (the burning
bush). God is mentioned frequently in Muhammad but never seen or heard; divine
revelation is mediated through the angel Gabriel, whose presence is indicated by
a nimbus of light. Even so, the way in which the voice of God is transmitted
conveys a great deal about how God is to be understood. In The Prince of Egypt,
for example, the powers of the God of Israel are subordinated to human activity:
when Moses parts the waters of the Red Sea, God’s voice is merely a memory, not
a present reality, and the song that accompanies the escape scene (and the credits)
hails the miracles that “you can achieve when you believe,” as if the force of faith
alone, regardless of the object of that faith, effected the miraculous.
Next to the deity of western monotheism, Greek gods seem to be the most
popular in animated films. The gods of Egypt and Arabia are mentioned promi-
nently in The Prince of Egypt and Muhammad, respectively, but no credence is
given in either film to these gods’ powers. Far more comprehensive is Walt Dis-
ney’s Fantasia (1940), which includes a sequence of scenes featuring mythical
figures followed by a bacchanal, complete with Bacchus riding a donkey and Zeus
pelting revelers with lightning bolts until he becomes tired and lies down for a nap.
The stereotypical capriciousness of the Greek gods is underlined when Zeus care-
lessly kicks a stray lightning bolt off of his cloud/couch. As the rain clears, Apollo
rides his sun chariot across the sky and off into the sunset. Aside from a brief men-
tion of creation in the song that opens The Road to El Dorado (2000), animated
films rarely depict gods other than the God of western monotheism intervening
beneficently in human affairs. In stories that make no pretense of depicting reality,
however, malevolent gods seem to be a popular source of villainy. In Hercules and
also in Sinbad: Legend of the Seven Seas (2003), the machinations of malevolent
deities drive the plot. In the former, Hades is bent on conquering Olympus and,
feeling threatened by Hercules’ existence, tries to kill him to make that conquest
easier. In Sinbad, the sole villain is Eris, the Greek goddess of chaos and discord.
28 | Animated Films

Non-Mediterannean deities have also been depicted in animated films. The

opening song of Dreamworks’s The Road to El Dorado credits “the divinities”
with bestowing the gift of paradise—namely, the environs of the mythical city
of El Dorado itself. But beyond this, authentic gods play no role in the film.
However, Miguel and Tulio, the two main characters, are hailed as gods by the
natives of El Dorado when they arrive in a fashion that bears a resemblance
to local iconography—a large stele depicting two gods riding on the back of a
huge snake. Disney’s Pocahontas (1995) stereotypically portrays the title char-
acter as an animist who frequently visits with Grandmother Willow, a talking
tree. More plausibly, the story of Brother Bear (2003) follows Kenai, a young
Inuit living in the primeval Canadian Arctic, who early in the film participates
in a coming-of-age ceremony where he is given a totem by the tribe’s female
shaman.
Themes of life after death occur in a number of animated films, but they seem
especially present—and problematic—in Disney features. In Brother Bear, Ke-
nai’s brother (who is killed by a bear) and the bear (subsequently killed by Kenai)
are both translated into a spiritual existence alongside the other “great spirits of
all who lived before.” The ancestral spirits of both humans and nonhumans are
accorded the power to effect changes in the world—not just the changing of the
seasons and other natural processes but also the transformation of Kenai into a
bear himself so that he can experience bear life at first hand.
Similarly, in Mulan (1998), the title character’s ancestors meet in a kind of
spiritual, posthumous family reunion to try to help preserve the family’s honor.
Unlike in Brother Bear, however, Mulan’s ancestors seem to have no real power
to affect Mulan’s life or her family’s honor, even though she and other living fam-
ily members pray to them as if they did. Instead of intervening directly to as-
sist Mulan, the family ancestors try to send a “family guardian,” the “great stone
dragon”—not to aid Mulan’s quest but to bring her back from it; the ancestors
themselves are unable to leave the temple that stores the wooden tablets inhabited
by the ancestors’ souls. To this extent, the portrayal of religion in Mulan coheres
with traditional Chinese filial piety, and the film makes much of the concept of
honor in Chinese society. However, Mulan and other characters pray casually to
the ancestors, blurring the traditional Chinese distinction between the ancestors
and the gods.
The Lion King (1994) blends the traditional African cycle of death and rebirth
with a more linear understanding of the afterlife. In one scene, Mufasa, the reign-
ing lion king, explains the circle of life in chiefly biological rather than spiritual
terms: lions eat antelopes, but eventually lions die and decompose, “become the
grass,” and get eaten by antelopes themselves. In another scene, Mufasa tells his
son Simba that the stars represent the souls of deceased lion kings watching from
 Animated Films | 29

above. In another example, the shamanistic baboon Rafiki sprinkles dirt in the
newborn Simba’s face to make him sneeze, evoking the Kipsigis kurenet ritual,
in which a newborn is addressed by many ancestors’ names until the newborn
sneezes, indicating that the spirit whose name was called when the infant sneezed
now is embodied in him or her. Later in the film, however, Rafiki tells an adult
Simba that his dead father will “live in him” as long as Simba remembers him.
Obviously, this cannot be a case of Mufasa’s spirit being reborn as Simba, since
Mufasa was alive when Simba was born. The film transforms the cycle of rebirth
into a linear matter of memory.
The very title of one non-Disney animated feature, All Dogs Go to Heaven
(1989), explicitly nods to a western monotheistic vocabulary regarding the after-
life, but the plot element that drives the film is the idea that the process of going
to heaven can be reversed; Charlie Barkin, one particular dog, not only goes to
heaven but then comes back. Charlie, essentially a canine gangster, is killed early
in the film and is welcomed to heaven by a heavenly hostess who characterizes it
as a place where dogs can do whatever they wish, whenever they wish. Charlie,
however, not interested in dying, manages to wind “the watch of his life,” which
adds time back to him and he returns to earth. The film uses this life extension as
a convenient plot device to enable Charlie’s reformation, but both the image of
heaven as a libertine paradise and the idea of escaping heaven by so mechanistic
a method as winding a watch diverge significantly from the Christian conceptions
that clearly underlie the way heaven is visualized in the film.
As for actual religious practice, many animated films incorporate some fea-
tures of traditional religions but omit aspects that viewers might find confusing
or distasteful. In Mulan, the title character and her father burn a little incense
when they visit their family ancestral shrine, but for the most part the film es-
chews any depiction of sacrificial rituals honoring the ancestral spirits. Likewise,
Muhammad refers occasionally to offerings to the pre-Islamic Arabian idols, but
it limits sacrificial offerings to presentations of grain and the burning of incense.
And although The Road to El Dorado does not shy away from the fact that Aztec
culture was known to include rituals of human sacrifice, it seriously distorts the
mood, manner, and meaning of such sacrifices. A typical Aztec human sacrifice
would involve placing the victim atop a sacred stone, cutting out the victim’s
heart or beheading the victim, and then tossing the victim’s dying body down
the steps of the pyramid-shaped temple. In The Road to El Dorado, however, the
sacrifices involve pushing the victim off a stone balcony into a whirlpool below.
More importantly, the film provides no religious context for the priest’s enthusi-
asm for performing such rituals, making him seem unreasonably bloodthirsty. In
Aztec religion, however, human blood was understood to be an almost magical
substance that nourished the gods, especially the sun god. If the Aztecs did not
30 | Animated Films

provide human sacrifices, the gods might perish, and humans would perish in turn
because of their dependence on the gods. Therefore Aztec children were raised to
believe that humanity’s mission on earth was to provide sacrifices for the gods.
Human sacrifice was therefore not an aberration in Aztec culture but was deeply
woven into Aztec theology and cosmology as a necessary, even matter-of-fact
affair. When, in the film, Miguel declares that “There will be no sacrifices—not
now, not ever” and expels the priest from El Dorado, the populace erupts in cheer-
ing; a real Aztec audience would find such a declaration from the gods horrifying,
even suicidal.
Animated films contain relatively few depictions of religious organizations.
Even in The Prince of Egypt and Muhammad—films that narrate the beginnings
of two major world religions—there is little overt reference to social and religious
hierarchies like the Israelite priesthood or the Islamic caliphate. The Prince of
Egypt ends with an iconic moment as Moses brings the tablets of the Ten Com-
mandments down from Mount Sinai, but otherwise it barely acknowledges that
the liberation of the Hebrews in the exodus also marks the beginning of a new
religion, ultimately to develop into Judaism. Muhammad is much more explicit
on this point and regularly depicts Muslims gathered to pray or to hear Muham-
mad’s teachings or recitations from the Qur’an. In Medina, the Muslims depicted
in Muhammad begin to build the first mosque. In The Road to El Dorado, Aztec
religion—embodied in a bloodthirsty priest—is depicted as destructive and op-
pressive, which ignores the role this religion played as an indispensable contribu-
tor to social cohesion.
An important exception to the general absence of organized religion from
these films comes from The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996), in which the fa-
mous cathedral in Paris is not only a centerpiece of the film but also an icon
of the city’s religious sensibilities. Esmerelda’s plea for sanctuary inside Notre
Dame, and the favorable reply given her by its priest, ignites a brief controversy
between the priest and the villainous Minister Frollo, the secular authority fig-
ure. The quarrel is brief, since the authority of the Catholic Church over Notre
Dame is understood by all to supersede secular authority. Later, Frollo’s orders
to attack Notre Dame galvanize the citizens of Paris to oppose him. Nonetheless,
institution-based Christianity is also treated critically; in one musical number,
churchgoing Christians are depicted as shallow and self-centered; parishioners
file into Notre Dame praying for wealth, fame, glory, love, and blessings for them-
selves. By contrast, Esmerelda asks for nothing except that God “bless the outcast
children of God” who are “less lucky than I.” Despite the positive role played by
Notre Dame’s unnamed priest in providing Esmerelda with sanctuary, the film
portrays “religious” Christians as basically selfish, in contrast to the unselfish
“spiritual” heroine.
 Animated Films | 31

Animated films that include overt religious elements often exhibit universal-
ist tendencies. The theme is particularly overt in The Hunchback of Notre Dame,
in which one of the film’s major musical numbers has Esmerelda opine, against
Christian exclusivism, “I thought we all were children of God.” A kind of species-
specific universalism is suggested in the title of All Dogs Go to Heaven, but it is
mitigated a bit by the rationale that the angelic whippet at the film’s “pearly gates”
explains that “all dogs go to Heaven, because unlike people, dogs are naturally
good and loyal and kind.”
In Brother Bear, just before the character Kenai is transformed into a bear, he
is treated to a vision of a “parade” of spirits, all of whom appear to be animals of
various species. One of these, originally appearing as an eagle, metamorphoses
into Kenai’s brother Sitka, and the bear Kenai has just killed is assimilated into
the group of spirits. All of this suggests a breakdown at the spiritual level of any
distinction between humanity and animals. The song that opens and closes the
film, “Great Spirits,” makes this explicit by asking the “great spirits of all who
lived before” to “show us that in your eyes, we”—humans and animals—“are all
the same.”
In sum, no matter what the filmmaker’s stance toward the faith tradition that
gave rise to the film’s source material, fidelity to that tradition’s sources, while
sometimes evident, clearly takes a back seat to the filmmakers’ perceptions of
entertainment value.
R. Christopher Heard
See also: American Indian Religion; Buddhism; God; Greek and Roman
Myths; Indigenous Religions; Islam.

Further Reading
Graham, Susan Lochrie. “Some Day My Prince Will Come: Images of Salvation in the
Gospel According to St. Walt.” In Culture, Entertainment, and the Bible, edited by
George Aichele, 76–88. Sheffield, UK: Sheffield Academic, 2000.
Léon-Portilla, Miguel, ed. Native Mesoamerican Spirituality: Ancient Myths, Discourses,
Stories, Doctrines, Hymns, Poems from the Aztec, Yucatec, Quiche-Maya and Other
Sacred Traditions. New York: Paulist Press, 1980.
Rowlett, Lori L. “Disney’s Pocahontas and Joshua’s Rahab in Postcolonial Perspective.”
In Culture, Entertainment, and the Bible, edited by George Aichele, 66–75. Sheffield,
UK: Sheffield Academic, 2000.
Ward, Annalee R. “The Lion King’s Mythic Narrative: Disney as Moral Educator.” Jour-
nal of Popular Film and Television 23, no. 4 (1996): 171–178.
Ward, Annalee R. Mouse Morality: The Rhetoric of Disney Animated Films. Austin: Uni-
versity of Texas Press, 2002.
32 | Arab Film

Arab Film

There is no more secular art form in the Middle East than cinema. Even though
conservative Islamic interpretations prohibit artistic human depictions, the pro-
duction and viewing of film have flourished throughout the Arab world from the
beginning of the film era. Even in Saudi Arabia, which has banned the public
showing of films, almost any film can be viewed in private homes on DVD or via
satellite television as soon as it comes out, and Saudi investors are among the main
financial backers of a revitalized Egyptian studio production system that espe-
cially markets feature films and TV dramas that debut annually during the Muslim
holy month of Ramadan.
Religion has rarely been a thematic focus in Arab regional film, with most di-
rectors and scriptwriters influenced more by anticolonialism, nationalism, Marx-
ism, and Hollywood than religious ideology. Government censorship inhibits the
cinematic exploration of religious themes. All Muslim countries ban the human
depiction of the Prophet Muhammad, and Egyptian law also strictly prohibits neg-
ative depictions of Christianity, Judaism, and Islam. The unintended effect of these
attempts to control film has been a persistent anticlerical bent to most films that
reference religious cultural practices.
Egypt is the largest producer of films in the Arab world, where, since 1909,
nearly 3,000 feature films have been made and distributed throughout the region.
Nonetheless, as much as 80 percent of commercial screen time is dominated by
American exports. An Egyptian national film industry arose during British colo-
nial occupation in the 1920s; ever since, it has referred to that colonial legacy in all
genres or to Egypt’s political, military, and economic subordination to the United
States, Israel, and Europe. In this context, religious imagery often acts as a prop in
promoting national unity against external threats.
One of the few Egyptian short films to survive from the silent era is Muham-
mad Bayoumi’s comedy Barsum yabhath ‘an wathifah (Barsoum Looking for a
Job, 1923), in which a homeless Coptic Christian and a starving Muslim cleric
compete for a job at the entrance to a rich banker’s villa. Mistaken for aristocrats,
they are invited in for a feast until their uncouth table manners betray their back-
ground. Ejected from the villa, they are chased and beaten by an angry policeman.
Deliberately casting a Copt as the Muslim sheikh, a Muslim as the homeless Copt,
and a Jew as the banker, Bayoumi intended the sectarian identity markers to be as
unmistakable to the audience as the moral of the story: Egyptians can never emerge
as a strong independent nation if they are divided by religious differences—nation
must trump religion in the quest for modernity.
Religious diversity as a positive component of nationalism is a common thread
running through the work of Youssef Chahine (1926–2008), one of Egypt’s most
 Arab Film | 33

renowned and prolific directors. Chahine’s family was Christian, but he was non-
practicing and skeptical of institutional religion. Many of his films mock those
who display an air of piety but show little concern for the downtrodden and op-
pressed. Even before the Islamist political revival in the 1980s, Chahine’s work
was filled with jibes against religious hypocrisy and fanaticism.
Perhaps Chahine’s most developed religiously iconoclastic figure is Sheikh
Ahmed in al-Asfur (The Sparrow, 1973), the first film made in the Arab world
to deal critically with the Arab defeat in the 1967 war with Israel, made at a time
when Egyptian President Anwar Sadat was suppressing both leftist and Islamist
opponents of his regime. In The Sparrow, Sheikh Ahmed is a poor religious scholar
who makes his living selling books—even banned books—at the prestigious Sunni
Al Azhar Mosque in Cairo. Sheikh Ahmed’s life is turned upside down when,
as Egyptian troops are being mobilized before the 1967 war, he is rejected for
military service. In despair over a series of futile endeavors, Ahmed drowns his
sorrows in sex and drink and is redeemed only when he hears President Nasser
admitting responsibility for the defeat and vowing to resign. Religion is no conso-
lation for Sheikh Ahmed; his passionate commitment to the nation is revived only
by his will to struggle for justice. Sheikh Ahmed is a stock Chahine character—an
alcohol-drinking, carnally indulgent Muslim sheikh who puts the welfare of the
living masses in the nation before himself and God.
The promotion of religious tolerance is interwoven into numerous subplots
in Iskandariyya . . . leh? (Alexandria . . . Why?, 1978), Chahine’s autobiographical
masterpiece. It explores the fortunes of a Jewish family whose patriarch decides
to take his son and daughter to Haifa in Palestine to escape the approaching Nazi
army. The daughter announces that she is pregnant by her Muslim Egyptian lover,
of whom the father approves, but who is imprisoned for labor organizing. The
daughter leaves for Haifa with her newborn but visits the child’s father in prison and
vows to remain loyal to him. Meanwhile, the Jewish family patriarch is appalled
at the Zionist violence in Palestine and longs to return to Alexandria. Chahine’s
point is that religion is inconsequential in affairs of the heart, and that attachment
to the Egyptian homeland transcends political ideology, including Zionism. The
film was banned in much of the Arab world when it was released, by coincidence
just when Sadat announced his trip to Jerusalem.
Chahine’s irreverence toward organized religion caught the attention of Isla-
mist activists in the 1990s. In al-Qahira munawwara bi ahliha (Cairo as Told by
Youssef Chahine, 1991), a documentary made for French television, Chahine hu-
morously chides the intolerance of Egyptian youth, who deal with their alienation
and chronic unemployment by joining conservative Islamist political groups. Isla-
mist adversaries tried to get his film al-Muhajir (The Emigrant, 1994) banned and
accused him of blasphemy, alleging that the film defied Islamic prohibitions against
34 | Arab Film

human depictions of a prophet. The film is a retelling of the biblical Joseph story
set in ancient Egypt, and the plot contains pointed references to contemporary
politics, portraying ancient Egyptian religious authorities as power-hungry and
duplicitous. The Emigrant was one of Chahine’s least successful artistic efforts
and reflected his desire to make a Hollywood-style biblical epic. It would have
faded into oblivion if not for the publicity generated by the Islamists. Chahine
appeared at his own blasphemy trial and eloquently defended artistic freedom of
expression.
The trial inspired Chahine to retaliate by making a blockbuster historical drama
straight out of Islamic history, with Egypt’s most popular movie stars, music, and
dance numbers to draw large audiences all over the Arab world. The result (al-
Masir [Destiny, 1997]) was a commercial success. The film loosely recounts the
12th-century persecution and banishment of the Andalusian Muslim philosopher
Ibn Rushd (Averroes) by more orthodox Islamic scholars and their political allies.
In the Chahine version, Ibn Rushd’s followers secretly transcribe his works to
save them from burning by evil, brainwashed Islamic fundamentalists; then they
secretly transport them to Cairo, where the enlightened Egyptian religious au-
thorities save them for posterity. Chahine took revenge by presenting Cairo as the
bastion of religious tolerance to millions of Egyptians. Destiny was also Chahine’s
most effective cinematic diatribe against the banality of state censorship.
The growth of Islamist activism in the 1980s and 1990s was reflected in a
number of films exploring its attraction to young people. The Moroccan film Bab
al-sama maftuh (A Door to the Sky, 1989), intended to be an antidote to the new
austere brand of Islam promoted by Islamist activists, focuses on a young woman
who returns to Morocco from France to see her dying father and becomes em-
broiled in a legal battle with her brother, who wants to sell the family mansion and
her part of the inheritance. Through the assistance of two women—a Sufi and an
attorney—she finds solace in religious devotion and fights to turn the patriarchal
mansion into a shelter for distressed women. Although A Door to the Sky brought
Islamic feminist identity politics to a broader audience and continues to be distrib-
uted in the educational market in the United States and Europe, it has had little
resonance in Morocco or elsewhere in the Arab world.
The most dramatic site of contention between political Islam and secular
nationalism was in Algeria, where the government cancelled elections in 1991,
when it appeared to be on the verge of losing to the Islamist opposition. This set
off a violent civil war in which as many as 200,000 Algerians may have died. Bab
el Oued City (1994) examines the rise of this armed Islamic movement by dissect-
ing the changing character of one of Algiers’s popular quarters, formerly a strong-
hold of those who led Algeria to independence in 1962. Where once the young
men were the mainstay of the underground, their descendants in the 1990s are
 Arab Film | 35

unemployed unskilled laborers. With no prospects for the future, the neighborhood
toughs form a gang that ostensibly enforces Islamic law but actually operates more
like a protection racket. The protagonist is a young bakery worker who runs afoul
of the local bully when he disconnects the loudspeaker of the local mosque, which
has kept him awake. He is also in love with the leading Islamist tough guy’s sister,
which results in his being ruthlessly persecuted until he emigrates to France.
The civil war all but destroyed an already challenged Algerian film industry,
but a few courageous documentary filmmakers continued to delve into its social
and political repercussions. Une femme taxi à Sidi Bel-Abbes (A Female Cabby
in Sidi Bel-Abbes, 2000) documents the Islamist terror campaign against women
in the 1990s, focusing on a widowed woman cab driver who functions as a link
to dozens of others who have been forced from their jobs when a factory is fire-
bombed by Islamists. The film recounts a brutal massacre of women school-
teachers in an isolated village.
Egyptian films have taken a pop psychology approach to the Islamist turn.
One of Chahine’s protégés focused on misguided youth falling prey to Islamist
political opportunists in al-Abwab al-moghlaka (The Closed Doors, 1999). The
young protagonist has an oedipal attraction to his mother, who was deserted by her
husband for a younger woman, leading to sexual confusion and conflicting feel-
ings of guilt, lust, and frustration. Local Islamists take advantage of the youth’s
confusion to induct him into their movement.
Based on the best-selling novel by Alaa el-Aswany, ‘Imarat al-Ya’qubiyan
(The Yacoubian Building, 2006), the most expensive movie ever made in Egypt,
examines—in one of its subplots—how romantic rejection and government cor-
ruption lead one of the characters to fall into the hands of Islamist extremists.
At the same time that Taha, the son of the doorman of a Cairo apartment build-
ing, is rejected for admission to the prestigious police academy because of his
lowly class background, he is also dumped by his childhood sweetheart, who must
now prostitute herself to support her mother. Taha enrolls in the overcrowded and
alienating Cairo University, where he is influenced by Islamist activists to join an
underground armed group that seeks to overthrow the government and create of an
Islamic state. At the end, Taha is gunned down as he participates in a botched assas-
sination attempt against a police official who had earlier, in jail, been responsible
for his torture. In The Yacoubian Building, religious devotion can get out of control
and end in extremism endangering the whole social fabric. Religious extremists
are just as depraved as the corrupt government officials who have spawned the
mass desperation, leading misguided Egyptian youth to join their ranks.
Christians constitute significant minorities throughout the Middle East, in-
cluding Egypt (10%), Syria (10%), and Lebanon (40%), but they are rarely the
subjects of feature films. This is surprising, since historically Christians have been
36 | Arab Film

overrepresented in film production in Egypt and Lebanon. Some of Egypt’s most

prominent directors (like Youssef Chahine) are Christian; in Lebanon, the direc-
tors who are not Christian are the exception. Christian Arab filmmakers have been
just as influenced by Arab nationalism, Marxism, and anti-imperialism as their
Muslim counterparts and, if anything, their films tend to promote secularism to an
exaggerated extent.
Since 1975, Lebanon has suffered numerous military conflicts, including a
long-running civil war (1975–1990). Lebanese feature film production completely
collapsed at its outset and was not revived until the 1990s. Every Lebanese fea-
ture film made since then has focused on the civil war. Lebanese directors have
gone out of their way to obscure sectarian aspects of the conflict, routinely de-
emphasizing the religious identities of their characters.
An exception is al-A’asar (The Tornado, 1992), one of the first films to be
made after the civil war. The film takes an uncompromising stand against sec-
tarianism and specifically lays the blame for the civil war on fanatic Maronite
Christian militias. The religious imagery is pungent; the film opens with church
bells ringing and a line of cars decorated for a wedding driving up the mountains
to the Maronite towns above Beirut while a single car drives downhill. The car
coming from the Maronite hill town stops in traffic in crowded Beirut and the
driver abandons the car seconds before it explodes in a ball of fire, killing dozens
of innocent civilians. The plot follows the fortunes of Jesus, a Lebanese Maronite
student who returns from the Soviet Union and becomes helplessly caught up in
the cycle of killing. In one scene near the end, Jesus enters a Maronite church
from the back and is transformed into a militiaman who massacres women, chil-
dren, and old people praying in the church pews. A Maronite funeral for martyrs
turns into a dance of death. The funeral procession ends in a main square in Bei-
rut, where all the congregants are gunned down in a massacre. Church bells toll
for the dead and blood falls from the sky. Symbolically repudiating religion, the
film was initially banned by the Lebanese government and shown only outside
the country.
Several Egyptian directors have also taken an iconoclastic approach to the
hypocrisy of organized Christianity. Nubi, the main character in Mercedes (1993),
was committed to a mental institution by his own family because he wanted to
donate his inheritance to the poor. After being discharged, he attends the church
wedding of his aunt and uncle, during which the bride pays more attention to her
lesbian paramour than to the elderly groom she is about to marry for his money.
It is the closest any Egyptian film comes to depicting a gay marriage. The two
lesbians proceed to poison the groom at the wedding banquet and ultimately go on
to become partners in the drug trade and organ-selling racket. The film not only
parodies Christian religious ritual but also ruthlessly attacks the shallowness of
 Arab Film | 37

Egyptian Christian bourgeois culture, which promotes artificial exclusivity and

self-conscious separation from Egypt’s Muslim mainstream.
One of the few Egyptian films to focus solely on Egypt’s Christian minority
is Baheb el cima (I Love Cinema, 2004), a Felliniesque autobiographical look at
how the director became obsessed with movies as a child. The main negative in-
spiration was his Christian fundamentalist father, who forbade family members to
go out to the movies. Of course, the child character who will eventually become
the director sneaks out to the movies at every opportunity. The film challenges
Christian ritual (a wedding banquet turns into a brawl) as well as false piety (the
Christian fundamentalist father fasts so much that he sexually ignores his wife).
The Coptic religious establishment tried unsuccessfully to get the film banned in
Egypt, seeing it as a threat to their control of religious content in the media—a
move that only increased the film’s popularity. The conversion of the director from
Christianity to Islam also fueled controversy.
Palestinian feature film production began in the 1980s, as the Palestine Lib-
eration Organization (PLO) gained international recognition as the sole legitimate
representative of the Palestinian people. It also coincided with the emergence
of the first generation of Palestinians with Israeli citizenship to have received post-
secondary education in Israeli universities. Almost all Palestinian directors are
from northern Israeli towns with a majority Palestinian population, like Nazareth.
Palestinian feature films have reflected the secular ideology of Palestinian na-
tionalism espoused by all factions of the PLO, and Islamist political idioms have
never been promoted in any fictional film narrative. Nonetheless, without a state
to foster a national Palestinian cinema, Palestinian filmmakers have depended on
collaboration with sympathetic members of the Israeli film industry.
Palestinian filmmakers outside of Palestine face the dilemma of how to show
that Palestinians exist as a national group. Most Palestinian filmmakers have fo-
cused on documenting the ongoing confrontations with the Israeli military and
the deplorable conditions in refugee camps. Within Palestine, films have rejected
a religiously based cultural identity for Palestinians, recognizing no distinction
between Christians, Jews, and Muslims.
One significant Palestinian director is Michel Khleifi, who was born in Naza-
reth in 1950 and immigrated to Belgium in 1970 to study film and work in tele-
vision production. He returned to Palestine in 1980 to make Al-Dhakira al-khisba
(Fertile Memory, 1980), a documentary about two Palestinian women—one from
the Galilee and other from the occupied West Bank—who struggle against Israeli
oppression and Palestinian patriarchal traditions. This film marked the begin-
ning of a new wave of Palestinian filmmaking that has gained an enthusiastic
international reception. Khleifi’s documentary Al Zawadj al-mukhtalat fi-l-ardi
al-muqadassa (Forbidden Marriages in the Holy Land, 1995) addresses religious
38 | Arab Film

intolerance. Israel does not recognize civil marriage; all marriages must be con-
ducted according to religious law. The state has imposed this system on Muslims
and Christians who are citizens and also on Palestinians who live under military
occupation in the West Bank and Gaza. To date, all peacemaking efforts are based
on the premise that Israelis and Palestinians are so essentially conflicted that they
must live apart. Khleifi’s film documents intersectarian, interracial, and undocu-
mented marriages; it not only shows multiple examples of intermarriages between
Israeli Jews and Palestinians, thus defying the notion that separatism is a neces-
sity, but also subtly exposes how the law has ceded control to the most reactionary
authorities in Christianity, Islam, and Judaism. Like all Palestinian nationalists,
Khleifi argues that the conflict with Israel is not over religion but over land and
political sovereignty. Religion is used as a tool to suppress personal freedom for
Christians, Jews, and Muslims alike.
The most religiously irreverent Palestinian director is Elia Suleiman. Born in
Nazareth, like Khleifi, he gives full ironic play to his birthplace’s biblical symbol-
ism. Yaddun ilahiya (Divine Intervention, 2002), his comic masterpiece, is filled
with stereotypic religious iconography deployed to show the inanity of the Israeli
occupation: not only are Palestinians afflicted with physical suffering and humili-
ation, but occupation also leads to extreme boredom and the death of culture. The
iconic barrage starts immediately; Santa Claus is chased up a hill by a band of
Palestinian teenagers, reaches the top to pause at an abandoned church, and turns
to reveal that he has been stabbed in the chest. In another scene, the Israeli army
is helpless to stop a gigantic red balloon bearing the face of PLO Chairman Yasser
Arafat from entering Jerusalem and landing atop the Dome of the Rock, one of the
holiest pilgrimage sites in Islam. Divine intervention occurs when a beautiful Pal-
estinian woman is miraculously transformed into a flying ninja, deflecting Israeli
machine gun bullets and blowing up a helicopter gunship with a magic shield in
the shape of historic Palestine.
Virtually all Palestinian directors view religion as either a dangerous distrac-
tion or worse—a conservative reaction that will only keep Palestinians from es-
tablishing a modern independent state. Exploring the Islamist turn in Palestinian
politics, Al-Djanna al’an (Paradise Now, 2005) is constructed around the last days
of two childhood friends from the occupied West Bank who have joined the Is-
lamist underground and are about to become martyrs in a double suicide bomb
attack inside Israel. Unlike the Egyptian films that rely on pop psychology to
explain the Islamist turn, Paradise Now firmly places the cause in the Israeli oc-
cupation policies, which breed despair among Palestinian youth. The film does not
absolve Palestinian society of part of the blame for its lack of creative leadership
and corrupt political opportunism. In the last scene, it is unclear whether a suicide
bomber detonated his explosive belt or came to a moral awakening at the last mo-
ment. In either case, religion leads to a dead end for everybody.
 Australia | 39

The early 1990s was a very prolific period for Palestinian filmmaking, coin-
ciding with the Oslo peace negotiations. Fewer films were produced after the onset
of the second Intifada in 2000, and those that have been made—such as Paradise
Now—reflect both the rise of the Islamist movement Hamas and the much more
violent tenor of the conflict. It is not only Palestinian films that portray the Islamist
turn in Arab politics—Egyptian and North African cinema does so as well. But
Islamism is still being interpreted cinematically by directors who are secularists
and not adherents of Islamist political parties.
Garay Menicucci
See also: Africa; Bollywood; Islam; Women.

Further Reading
Dabashi, Hamid. Makhmalbaf at Large. New York: Taurus, 2008.
Fawal, Ibrahim. Youssef Chahine. London: British Film Institute, 2001.
Gertz, Nurith, and George Khleifi. Palestinian Cinema: Landscape, Trauma, and Memory.
Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 2008.
Khatib, Lina. Lebanese Cinema: Imagining the Civil War and Beyond. New York: Taurus,
2008.
Shafik, Viola. Arab Cinema: History and Cultural Identity. Cairo: The American Univer-
sity in Cairo Press, 1998.
Shafik, Viola. Popular Egyptian Cinema: Gender, Class, and Nation. Cairo: The American
University in Cairo Press, 2007.

Australia

Australia is a modern multicultural country that avows secularism but is still

deeply rooted in Christianity. Because of its accommodating immigration policies,
its citizens retain a wide variety of religious beliefs; devotees will find churches,
mosques, temples, and synagogues in most cities. Regrettably, Australian cinema
has not reflected this religious diversity and has limited itself primarily to Chris-
tian topics and concerns, with a splattering of Aboriginal spirituality, non-Christian
religions, romantic nature mysticism, and supernatural stories.
In 1899, the Salvation Army’s Limelight Department made 13 short films
about the life and death of Jesus. However, it was Soldiers of the Cross (1900)
that became Australia’s first feature-length religious film, serving as part of the
army’s campaign to proselytize. The Salvation Army eventually became the back-
bone of the Australian film industry and was responsible for its first film studio,
which opened in Melbourne in 1909. Soldiers of the Cross depicted Jesus on the
40 | Australia

cross, the life and martyrdom of Saint Peter, Saint Paul brooding over the stoning
of Stephen, and gruesome but stirring scenes of Christian martyrdom. Heroes of
the Cross (1909), essentially a remake of Soldiers of the Cross, started with the
preaching, arrest, and martyrdom of Stephen and likewise depicted condemned
Christians bravely welcoming death at the stake. It was followed by The Scot-
tish Covenanters (1909), a drama set in England but shot at the Salvation Army’s
Australian studio. It continued the theme of martyrdom and depicted the capture
and murder of Scottish Christians by Oliver Cromwell’s Roundheads. However,
neither film generated as much interest as Soldiers of the Cross. In early 1910, the
Limelight Department was suddenly closed when officials became concerned that
nonreligious films being distributed at that time were more likely to corrupt souls
than save them.
Given the history of early film production, it is not surprising that many re-
ligious themes and characters emerge in Australian film. One early example is
Franklyn Barrett’s The Christian (1911), about an inner-city London missionary
who wants to save a female parishioner from ruining her life by accepting an act-
ing job. Raymond Longford’s The Silence of Dean Maitland (1914) details the
sexual dalliance of Reverend Cyril Maitland and the death of the girl’s father, who
confronts him. Through lies and secrecy, Maitland avoids arrest for the murder
and is not censured for the sexual relationship; instead, his best friend is sentenced
to 20 years in prison. Maitland is a respectable citizen and an eminent dean when
his former friend is released from jail. Upon seeing him in his church, Maitland
is overcome with guilt, confesses his dastardly deed, and dutifully drops dead.
Wilfred Lucas’s transplanted cowboy movie The Man from Kangaroo (1920) re-
volves around John Harland, an ex-boxing champion and unorthodox probation-
ary preacher sent to the outback community of Kangaroo. He is in direct conflict
with a local gang of mercenaries who violently oppose the church and John. They
kidnap the orphaned heiress Muriel Hammond, with whom John was in love. After
some hair-raising stunts, fights, and chases, the bullies are defeated and the church
triumphs. Norman Dawn’s landmark film For the Term of His Natural Life (1927)
tells of a man who is transported to Van Dieman’s Land to serve a life sentence
for a crime he did not commit. A corrupt priest does not come forward to tell
the truth, either at the trial or when the priest becomes the convict chaplain. In a
later production, Shadow of the Boomerang (1960) tells the story of Bob Prince,
a rude, racist, and antichurch cattle rancher from America working in Australia.
Bob experiences a religious conversion and decides to follow Jesus after meeting
a Christian missionary, hearing a radio sermon by evangelist Billy Graham, and
having his life saved by the sacrificial death of aboriginal Christian Johnny. The
film incorporates scenes from Billy Graham’s 1959 Crusade in the Sydney Cricket
Ground.
 Australia | 41

Other films portray religious figures or institutions as flawed. Fred Schepisi’s

The Chant of Jimmie Blacksmith (1978), set in the 1880s, depicts the exploitation
of Jimmie Blacksmith, a half-caste Aboriginal worker, who is guided by the cul-
turally insensitive Methodist minister Reverend Neville. Jimmie is taught cultural
denial and hard work and is encouraged to marry a white woman in the white
church. He does, but he is marginalized, exploited, and oppressed by a series of
mean-spirited employers who cheat him and subject him to all sorts of racist hu-
miliations, leading him to brutally massacre a farming family who had deliber-
ately wronged him. A fugitive, Jimmie escapes to a Catholic convent, where he
is quickly handed over to the police and beaten. Before he is hanged, Jimmie is
offered spiritual comfort by Reverend Neville. Although the missionary church is
portrayed as well intentioned, it was ultimately seen as more harmful than good to
the indigenous population.
More recent productions continue the trend of presenting the church as a prob-
lematic institution. Black Robe (1991) described the evangelizing mission of 17th-
century French Jesuit and his assistant who bravely travel into the uncharted wilds
of Quebec to convert the Algonquin, Huron, and Iroquois Indian tribes. The film
explores the difficulty of cross-cultural gospel transmission, the issue of cultural
sensitivity, and the question of how much cultural change Native Americans must
make in order to become Christians. Although the missionaries are successful in
converting a tribe of Huron, these converts are later killed by the members of
another tribe, who realize that the Christian faith has made them weak and vul-
nerable. Oscar and Lucinda (1997) focuses on two gamblers, Oscar Hopkins (an
Anglican priest) and Lucinda Leplastrier, a rich Australian heiress and owner of
a glass factory, who strike a romantic friendship on board a ship from England to
New South Wales. Oscar’s gambling causes him to be thrown out of the priest-
hood; a wager is made that Oscar cannot transport a glass church to outback priest
Reverend Hasset. The journey is harsh, but Oscar uses the river system to success-
fully transports the see-through church to the remote town. He is seduced by a
local widow, and in remorse, goes to pray in the floating glass church but drowns
when it sinks with him inside.
On the lighter side, Sirens (1994) centers on a young, uptight Anglican priest
asked to visit notorious artist Norman Lindsay because the bishop of Sydney is
concerned about a potentially blasphemous painting the artist wants to exhibit.
The reverend brings along Estella, his sexually frustrated wife, and they are ex-
posed to the liberating, semibohemian lifestyle of the artist, his wife, and his three
voluptuous models. Nudity, temptation, and even Estella’s sexual indiscretion,
however, do not destroy the reverend’s faith.
Even the Salvation Army is subject to critical examination. Strikebound (1983)
is a dramatization of the 1930s South Gippsland miner’s strike involving Wattie
42 | Australia

(a Communist) and Agnes Doig (a Salvationist), whose real-life interviews are

used in the film. The Salvation Army is represented as an evangelical movement
(as distinct from a social welfare organization): it has a human feel of compassion,
courage, and resourcefulness but also an otherworldly concern, which means stoi-
cally enduring the injustices rather than radically changing them. The Salvation
Army as social welfare organization is featured in Golden Braid (1990), involving
Joseph and Terese, who, though both nice Salvationists, lack religious integrity,
with Joseph having a drinking problem and Terese having an adulterous affair be-
fore abandoning the Salvation Army. Other films (like The Sum of Us, 1994, and
Bad Boy Bubby, 1993) continue the critical examination of the Salvation Army.
Individual Christian believers are presented critically but perhaps a bit more
gingerly. Raymond Longford’s The Church and the Woman (1917) explores the
sectarian divisions in Australian society, particularly the dangers of a mixed mar-
riage between Catholic Eileen Shannon and her Protestant lover Dr. Sidney Burton.
Eileen’s father refuses to consent, and when the father is mysteriously murdered,
Burton is suspected. However, Father Shannon, Eileen’s brother, hears the con-
fession of the real culprit and takes the blame; he cannot violate the seal of the
confessional, nor does he want to make his sister unhappy or see an innocent man
die. Just before Shannon is to be hanged, the real murderer is caught and Shannon
is released. In the closing scenes, Eileen and Sidney are married, hidden “behind
the altar” in a Catholic church.
A more recent example, Mark Joffe’s The Man Who Sued God (2001), is a
comical exploration of the interrelationship between big business, the media, and
religion. Steve Myers is a frustrated former lawyer turned fisherman whose only
piece of property is a rusty boat. When it is struck by lightning and destroyed,
Myers is denied insurance money because it is deemed “an act of God.” Outraged,
he reregisters as a lawyer and sues God instead of the insurance company. Since
God’s earthly representative is the church, it becomes the target of Myer’s court
case; any compensation must come from its coffers. Steve becomes a media ce-
lebrity at the center of a court circus, particularly when he achieves a string of
legal victories and maneuvers the church into a position where it can win only if it
proves that God does not exist! However, his family and friends suffer when they
become the target of media exploitation and their questionable pasts are exposed.
In the end, Myers opts for a moral victory by withdrawing the case while simul-
taneously convincing the judge that the use of the term “act of God” by insurance
companies is wrong and misleading.
Despite its Christian origins, Australian film does reflect the country’s pro-
found cultural diversity; Bahai, Hindu, Jewish, Muslim, and Aboriginal influences
can be found in a number of films. However, many portray a more conflicted rela-
tionship between the minority religious community and the dominant culture. One
 Australia | 43

example is Serenades (2001), a love story set in 1890 Central Australia that deals
with a clash of cultures (Afghan, Aboriginal, European) and their convoluted in-
terreligious history (Islam, Aboriginal spirituality, Christianity). Young Jila is the
daughter of Wanga, an Aboriginal woman; she is initially raised by Rainman, her
Aboriginal grandfather, who teaches her traditional dreaming stories. However,
she is taught to read and write at the local Lutheran mission, and Shir Mohammed,
her Afghan Muslim father, takes her away and raises her as a Muslim. Later, an
adult romance develops between Jila and the German Lutheran Johann, the future
pastor of the local Christian mission. Jila’s father arranges for her to marry a local
Muslim priest who is 30 years her senior, prompting Jila to attempt suicide, but she
fails and flees. Her father is expected to kill her if she has been with another man,
so Jila seeks refuge at a Lutheran mission. When Pastor Hoffman, the authoritar-
ian father of Johann, rejects her, she seeks solace in the desert and her Aboriginal
heritage. As the film ends, the dogmatic father relents and fakes her death, Johann
rejects the mission, and he and Jila reunite in the desert.
A bit more representative of the clash of cultures is The Battle of Broken Hill
(1982), about a guerilla-style military operation in the Australian outback in 1915.
Confused by persecution and patriotism, two Muslims who had sworn allegiance
to the Sultan of Turkey, their religious leader, attack the citizens of the remote
mining town while they are celebrating their annual picnic and riding on open
ore trucks. Several passengers are killed or wounded, prompting a siege involving
the townspeople, police, soldiers, and rifle club members, which lasts until one
Muslim is dead and the other mortally wounded.
The Australian Seventh Day Adventist community comes under scrutiny in
Evil Angels (1988), a film about one of Australia’s most bizarre murder cases: the
1980 disappearance of baby Azaria from a campsite at Ayers Rock (Uluru). Lindy
Chamberlain, the distraught mother, claimed that Azaria was taken by a dingo,
but no body was ever found and Lindy and her husband were under suspicion.
The emotionless but religious mother was subsequently charged with murder and
jailed, while her husband, a Seventh Day Adventists minister, was found guilty
as an accessory after the fact. Subsequent evidence cleared them and Lindy was
released from jail. Their faith was a factor in this bizarre real-life tale, as was a
rumor that Azaria meant “sacrifice in the wilderness,” thus implicating Lindy as
a witch and her fellow Adventists as devil worshippers. However, these facts are
touched upon lightly in the film.
Although Jews have been part of Australian history since the beginning, ex-
plicit depictions of their faith and its rituals are not very common in Australian
cinema. Soldiers of the Cross depicts Jews as early Christians, but images of the
Jew as an ethnic stereotype are more widespread, as in Strike Me Lucky (1934),
with a character called Mo as the protagonist. The signature of this pioneering
44 | Australia

Australian–Jewish comedy consisted of Mo’s leering white face, painted black

beard, sputtering speech, irreverent behavior, blue humor, and impeccable comic
timing. Despite the presentation of Mo as the quintessential Aussie battler, his gro-
tesque caricature could easily be seen today as anti-Semitic. Scott Hicks’s Shine
(1996) was notable for its depiction of the young Australian pianist David Helfgott
at a bar mitzvah.
Despite the diversity of the culture, Australian cinema has been loath to rec-
ognize Aboriginal worship, lore, or dreaming as legitimate religion or worthwhile
spirituality. Instead, it usually limits it to mystical mumbo-jumbo or relegates it
to the arena of wild primitivism. Peter Weir’s neo-New Age film The Last Wave
(1977) involves David Burton, a white corporate lawyer, who is defending some
Aborigines for tribal murder when he discovers an ancient Aboriginal civilization
still living under Sydney. The group hints of an impending drowning of the city by
a giant tidal wave, prophesied long ago in their tribal dreaming. During his spiri-
tual awakening while encountering the irrational, David has recurring nightmares
and disturbing visions. Freakish weather eventually heralds the arrival of the fore-
told apocalypse and leaves David in a fetal position awaiting his fate. Weir cre-
ates an uncanny atmosphere and an intriguing mystical undercurrent that makes
the Aboriginals the repository of ancient wisdom still relevant to 20th-century
Australia.
Despite the presence of religious institutions and figures, Australian cinema
has yet to wholeheartedly accept the covert building of religious figures and
themes into its overtly secular narratives. One example, George Willoughby’s
The Joan of Arc of Loos (1916), is a story about World War I patriotism whose
subtext describes a character who emulated France’s most famous female martyr.
A young peasant woman leads the allied attack at the village of Loos, which is
under German occupation. She guns down two snipers, hurls bombs, sings La
Marseillaise, and waves the tricoleur, creating the vision of a woman in armor
with sword pointing skyward, which in turn inspires the troops to victory—the
classic Joan of Arc story transplanted and transmogrified. Chris Noonan’s Babe
(1995) proved that a Christ figure need not be human. The “gallant pig” in this
film has a dual nature—a pig who can be a champion sheepdog—serving as a
savior to Farmer Hoggett. Babe was kind and loving and he changed the estab-
lished order.
Possibly the most commercially successful film of this sort is George Miller’s
Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome (1985), the last in his postapocalyptic trilogy
about an ex-policeman turned wandering heroic warrior, “Mad” Max Rockatan-
sky. In this particular installment, Max is elevated into a Christ figure; that is,
he is a subtextual Jesus: he goes on a perilous journey through the desert after
being treated like a scapegoat by the inhabitants of Bartertown (a postapocalyptic
 Australia | 45

Imperial Rome). He is rescued by the wild children of the desert and introduced to
the pious community of the faithful living in the green gorge called Crack in the
Earth (an Eden-like oasis). Max is suspended over water, dunked, and then rises to
a meal. He hears their sacred story, “the Tell,” at an altar shaped like a TV screen.
These faithful believers patiently await Captain Walker, their expected sky-god
savior, who will lead them to the paradisial Tomorrowland now that they have
survived two apocalypses (nuclear Armageddon and a plane crash—their literal
fall).
Australian cinema has frequently shown a religious reverence toward nature,
a deeply rooted respect that has taken on mythical proportions; the natural world
is frequently treated as a character itself and a de facto form of romantic nature
worship turned pagan mysticism. However, such pagan-flavored mysticism is
rarely acknowledged. Franklyn Barrett’s fragmentary silent film The Breaking of
the Drought (1920) tells the story of farmer Jo Galloway and his family of Wal-
laby Station who go broke and have their land repossessed because of a wayward
son. The Galloway family eventually returns home and the restorative rains fall.
The drought functions metaphorically to emphasize the ruin and redemption of the
farmer’s family and its intimate linkage to the earth.
Perhaps most famous is Peter Weir’s atmospheric Picnic at Hanging Rock
(1975), where nature takes on a mystical, surrealistic hue coupled with a recur-
ring sense of imagistic unease. This hauntingly beautiful story is based upon the
enigmatic disappearance of a group of schoolgirls and their teacher while visit-
ing Hanging Rock on St. Valentines Day, 1900. Some of their would-be rescuers,
and one of the girls who mysteriously returns, experience memory loss and head
wounds, but the disappearances remain unsolved. It is as if the vulnerable females
dressed in white fall prey to the alien, phallic-looking rock, which is shrouded in
mist and exudes raw power accompanied by an ominous sound as Weir evokes
the sense of an ancient supernatural presence contained therein, creating an aura
of romantic yearnings, incipient sexuality, and brooding menace. He manages to
mingle the bush with hysteria, desolation with desperation, and spirituality through
the use of dreamlike panpipes. Overall, however, themes related to the New Age,
paganism, and the supernatural are, with a few notable exceptions, appallingly
presented in Australian cinema.
The field is ripe for many more Australian religious stories to be told with
greater sensitivity and candor. Needed are films that deal with real spirituality:
positive images of priests who are not obsessed with sex, accounts of Jews who are
not just jokers but who engage in religious (as opposed to simply ethnic) experi-
ences, and Asian faiths that are represented as more than clichés. Australian (and
global) audiences would be well served by films presenting images of authentic
Aboriginal faith traditions and sacred stories, New Age practices, pagan beliefs,
46 | Australia

and witch rituals that are not depicted as kooky or eccentric, supernatural films
that have rigid internal logic as part of their story lines, and films with sacred sub-
texts involving Australian love, life, and faith.
Anton Karl Kozlovic
See also: Clergy; End-of-the-World Films; Indigenous Religions; Islam; Jesus;
Judaism.

Further Reading
Bentley, P. “Funerals, Frigidity and Fanaticism: The Representation of Religion in Austra-
lian Feature Films.” St. Mark’s Review 142 (Winter 1990): 12–15.
Freiberg, F. “Lost in Oz? Jews in the Australian Cinema.” Continuum: The Australian
Journal of Media and Culture 8, no. 2 (1994): 196–203.
Gauper, S. “Aborigine Spirituality as the Grounding Theme in the Films of Peter Weir.” The
Midwest Quarterly: A Journal of Contemporary Thought 42, no. 2 (2001): 212–227.
Leonard, R. “Lights! Camera! Action!: Spirituality, Media and the Australian Culture.”
The Australasian Catholic Record 77, no. 4 (2000): 407–416.
Malone, Peter. “Religion and 100 Years of Australian Films.” In A Grain of Eternity: 1997
Australian International Religion, Literature and the Arts Conference Proceedings,
edited by M. Griffith and J. Tulip, 236–239. Sydney: Centre for Studies in Religion,
Literature and the Arts, 1997.
Molloy, B. Before the Interval: Australian Mythology and Feature Films, 1930–1960.
St. Lucia: University of Queensland Press, 1990.
B

Bazin, André (1918–1958)

André Bazin is the most important writer in the development of film theory and a
key figure in the history of film. He produced an unrivaled body of film criticism,
history, and theory. As a film critic, essayist, theorist, cofounder of the journal Ca-
hiers du cinema, and “godfather” to the French New Wave cinema (nurturing the
talents of such directors as Jean-Luc Godard and François Truffaut), his influence
can scarcely be underestimated. He is less widely known as a religious thinker, but
this is more because of the parameters of academic disciplines: film studies rarely
takes religion seriously, and religious studies has not yet absorbed the canon of
film theorists. And yet for Bazin, making, viewing, and writing about films were
acts deeply intertwined with religious faith.
Although Bazin wrote little explicitly on film and religion and rarely on “reli-
gious” films (with the notable exception of his famous essay on Robert Bresson’s
Journal d’un cure de campagne (Diary of a Country Priest, 1951), Bazin was a
spiritual, even theological thinker, and his work is a powerful yet overlooked re-
source for conceptualizing the relationship between religion and film.
André Bazin was born in the town of Angers, Northwest France, in 1918.
Educated at the top schools in the area, he was denied a teaching position because
of his stammer. In December 1941, Bazin founded one of the first cine-clubs in
Paris—a place where people could watch a film and then talk about it. Many of
the films he showed were banned by the German occupation. As cine-clubs spread
throughout Paris, France, and Europe in the late 1940s, Bazin worked to bring
films into factories and schools as well.
With his essay declaring the invention of film the most important event in the
popular and visual arts since the decline of the miracle play, Bazin became a pub-
lished author in the autumn of 1943. His film-writing career was revolutionary in
two ways: it made the serious consideration of film an acceptable part of journal-
ism (before Bazin, no French newspaper had a film column), and it made writing

47
48 | Bazin, André

about contemporary, popular films academically respectable (before Bazin, the

few scholars who were interested in film looked with disdain on Hollywood film
and sound film in general).
Bazin soaked up the intellectual ferment of Paris in the 1930s 1940s; his writ-
ing betrays knowledge of everything from the phenomenology of Merleau-Ponty
to the neo-Thomism of Jacques Maritain, from Bergson’s vitalism to Sartre’s exis-
tentialism. Bazin was also influenced by the Catholic visionary thinker Pierre
Teilhard de Chardin, who posited an evolutionary spiraling of human conscious-
ness until it fuses with divine revelation. For Bazin, this fusion could be achieved
through the medium of cinema. To spread this gospel of cinema, Bazin wrote,
beginning in 1945, for a wide variety of publications on a regular basis, from
Radio-television-cinema (the French equivalent of TV Guide) to Travail et culture,
a Stalinist journal. Most importantly, that same year Bazin became the regular film
critic for Esprit, one of the key intellectual postwar journals. Esprit was a social-
ist Catholic journal founded by Emmanuel Mounier, who has been called Bazin’s
greatest intellectual and theological influence. Mounier advocated the philosophy
of personalism, a Christian theology that rejects metaphysics in favor of an exis-
tentialist humanism. Personalism values creative individuals who take risks and
exercise their God-given right to choose. Bazin adapted these values to develop
“auteur” theory, which became the signature idea of the Cahiers du Cinema, the
film journal Bazin helped to found in April 1951. Bazin contributed a total of
116 pieces to over 90 issues until his death at age 40 from leukemia.
The auteur theory is famous for lionizing the director as a creative artist, as
“author” of the film text. Bazin wrote essays that saw distinct thematic and formal
elements in the work of his favorite directors. These directors were not only the
European masters but also popular journeymen working in Hollywood, such as
Howard Hawks and Alfred Hitchcock. Beginning in 1968, the auteur theory fell
out of favor with the Cahiers du cinema editorial board, and with it André Bazin.
In full grip of Marxist and semiotic theories of film inspired by Louis Althusser,
the journal he had helped to found made Bazin out to be an idealistic and bour-
geois embarrassment and an apolitical dupe for ignoring the social and economic
factors that went into film production in favor of the solitary romantic figure of
the auteur.
In fact, Bazin was no naïf; he well understood the constraints of genre, studio,
technology, and audience reception. It is a common misreading of auteur theory to
see it as a celebration of the director as solitary hero struggling to make great art.
In fact, for Bazin the director was important because of his religious function—his
role as ritual specialist or religious technician.
Two of his most famous essays directly confront the religious in film. In “On-
tology of the Photographic Image,” he traces all art to the ancient Egyptian practice
 Bazin, André | 49

of mummification. From death masks to oil painting, all art, according to Bazin,
has a primarily religious function of preserving the spirit in the face of the degra-
dation of matter. For Bazin, photography had become the most important art since
mummification because it literally embalms space by rescuing an object from its
temporal corruption. But cinema goes one better and embalms time. The director
thus assumes almost priestly duties, charged with the preservation or recreation of
the body in the face of inevitable death.
In “Evolution of the Language of Cinema,” Bazin analyzes major trends in
film from the 1920s to the early 1940s. In this essay, he advances his second most
famous concept (and yet one that is just as misunderstood as auteur theory): cine-
matic realism. Bazin, as the pre-eminent “realist” of film theory, opposed a previ-
ous generation of “formalist” film theorists (the Soviet director Eisenstein most
notably), who saw filmmaking as the interpretation and reconstitution of reality
through formal cinematic means, notably montage.
By realism, Bazin meant neither photographic realism, nor “gritty” urban
realism, nor naturalistic social realism. He meant the use of certain cinematic
techniques, notably deep-focus cinematography, long-held shots, and the sense
of off-screen space through which certain filmmakers could make stories out of
unbounded cinematic space. Again, Bazin’s advocacy of a certain kind of cine-
matic style had a theological basis. The realist filmmakers’ sense of perception
was ambiguous; their films reveal a world alive with possibilities. Each shot was
full of mystery and revelation.
Bazin preferred a cinema that allowed the audience to view the “film world”
in a manner influenced but not completely dominated by the spirit of the artist
through which it is filtered. Bazin opposed directors using excessive editing (or
montage) because it told the audience what to think; these directors were playing
God instead of letting God flow through them.
Bazin’s personalist Christian existentialism is the basis for his championing
of cinematic objectivity. The enjoyment of cinema acknowledges God’s pres-
ence in the world. As Bazin put it: “The world is, quite simply, before it is to be
condemned.”
Elijah Siegler
See also: Bresson, Robert; Dogme 95; Europe (Continental); Truffaut, François.

Further Reading
Andrew, Dudley. Andre Bazin. New York: Columbia University Press, 1990.
Bazin, André. Bazin at Work: Major Essays and Reviews from the Forties and Fifties.
Edited by Bert Cardullo, translated by Alain Piette and Bert Cardullo. New York: Rout-
ledge, 1997.
50 | Belief

Bazin, André. The Cinema of Cruelty: From Buñuel to Hitchcock. Edited by François Truf-
faut, translated by Sabine d’Estrée. New York: Seaver Books, 1982.
Bazin, André. “Cinema and Theology.” The South Atlantic Quarterly 91, no. 2 (Spring
1992): 393–407.
Bazin, André. What is Cinema? Translated by Hugh Gray. Berkeley: University of Cali-
fornia Press, 1967.

Belief

In Fear and Trembling (1843), Søren Kierkegaard introduces a series of classic

problems: How do we summon the will to believe when our beliefs pose dangers
to ourselves and our loved ones? How can we be sure that we are not misled in
faith? How can we believe in a higher power in a world beset by suffering and de-
spair? We are human beings, so we are fallible. The pursuit of faith has the poten-
tial to motivate us to embrace unrealizable ideals, stretch our abilities to interpret
reality, and reveal our frailties to us. Genuine belief requires patience and fortitude
as well as the honesty to meet the world where it actually is.
The best films that deal with the problem of belief recognize that faith is hard-
won, initially presented as an unlikely option to the prospective believer. They
pay attention to the conflicted context of the human situation, presenting us with
reasons why the decision to believe can be so difficult. Where these films diverge
is in their assessment of whether the decision to believe is a sound one. For all of
the films made which praise the believer for leaping, there are as many in which
the leapers are presented as dupes. Films that deal with the problem of belief can
be split between those offering a positive perspective of the believer’s worldview
and those offering a negative one. In both, however, we are meant to identify with
the protagonists whose lives hang in the balance. How will we cope in a world
replete with suffering and brutality? How do we know when we must surrender to
something bigger than ourselves, and what is our own responsibility to bear? The
films that deal with the problem of belief capture our attention insofar as they ad-
dress these perennial questions about our human predicament.
Generally, faith receives a positive treatment in film, even as particular reli-
gious traditions often do not. Many filmmakers are attracted to the error of human
arrogance, and to the corresponding remedies of humility and belief in something
transcendent. Many filmmakers are influenced by Kierkegaard, Blaise Pascal, and
William James, who wager that we are better off if we make an earnest attempt to
become receptive to the divine. Films that emphasize the positive effects of belief
echo Pascal’s conviction that human beings are less than God but greater than the
 Belief | 51

other animals, unto themselves given to a life of suffering, but beings who have
the capacity, through grace, to know to appeal to the heart. Yielding to faith is
presented as the only way to resolve the contradictions of human nature. Despair
is on display, but it does not have the final word.
The most conspicuous representations of faith present the audience with evi-
dence that there is more to this world than meets the eye. In these films the ques-
tion of whether or not we should believe is not left hanging: salvation depends on
our believing in something. Breaking the Waves (1996), for example, controver-
sially depicts the trials of the wife of an injured oil-rig worker who is told by her
husband to sleep with other men. His instruction, combined with her successive
revelations, lead her to assume terrible risks, each with increasingly violent re-
sults. Her decisions seem foolish; they incur the ridicule of her family and the vil-
lagers of her small coastal Scottish town. Yet, with each act of self-exploitation her
husband’s health improves, until he has recovered and she has martyred herself.
This film offers a graphic representation of Kierkegaard’s notion that faith, if true
and strong enough, can supersede morality. Anyone who wonders if it is God and
not some other voice that Bess hears receives an unequivocal answer when, upon
her burial at sea in the final scene, we witness a bell tolling in the sky to mark the
entry of an angel into heaven.
Breaking the Waves is not an isolated instance in which we are furnished with
compelling evidence of the supernatural. Pulp Fiction (1994) contains a critical
scene in which a hit man emerges from a close-range execution unscathed and
decides that such an event is too unlikely to be attributed to good luck. Interpret-
ing his good fortune as message from God, he is inspired instantly to change his
life and walks away from a long criminal career. He survives the film, while his
more skeptical partner, who credits the escape as mere chance, gets gunned down
on the job. Magnolia (1999) weaves together disparate stories of people who need
each other without knowing exactly why. Like the flower, our success as a spe-
cies depends on our coflourishing despite the sensible reasons that would make us
want to turn our backs on one another. A number of the film’s characters lose their
way; they live lives that are morally suspect and they have become sophisticated
at rationalizing away their misdeeds. Is there a threshold of nonvirtuous living
beyond which human beings reach a point of no return? Is there anyone watching
who can guarantee justice in the long run? Lest we doubt, we are graphically pre-
sented with an unmistakable sign that there is a God overseeing our progress, and
that that God is disappointed with us. Magnolia, like Breaking the Waves, declares
unequivocally that there is a God watching and taking an interest. The decision
to believe is ours to make, and only through belief does salvation become a real
possibility. In these films (and many others), the dramatic narrative does not make
sense without an explanatory appeal to some higher force.
52 | Belief

In the second type of films in which faith receives a positive treatment the
existence of the divine is only suggested. The appeal of these films lies in their re-
alism. Drama unfolds plausibly, and closure is not always forthcoming. The inter-
pretation of miracles as miracles requires an adjustment of attitude, a movement
on the part of the protagonist (as well as the audience). That required movement
is not easy. The human situation contains no shortage of suffering; evil abounds.
People do terrible things to one another. Redemption requires one to work through
these challenges; no simply theodicy will do.
Grand Canyon (1991) bombards us with terrible and wonderful occurrences.
Miracles are not obvious but must be gleaned from the wreckage of everyday life.
Every character in the film, from the vice-ridden to the virtue-laden to the person
who displays elements of both, is someone with whom we can identify. We meet
one purely good person, Simon, an African American tow truck driver, who saves
Mac, a compassionate (if adulterous) lawyer, from a crisis. Simon brings out the
best in everyone he meets through his humility and good nature. The film dwells
not on the God of Glory but on the subtle spirit within that directs us in unorthodox
ways, which places the humans it inhabits at critical crossroads. Will we respond
with righteousness at the decisive moment? At one juncture Mac is afflicted by
a fantastic headache in response to the pressure of pending decisions. His wife,
Claire, rejects the headache as an inappropriate response to have in the presence
of miracles, miracles, she says, which in today’s world we have become “slow to
recognize.” The sacred is to be found in the mundane. Procuring the epiphany of
revelation is our responsibility too.
Grand Canyon spawned a series of films in the early 1990s devoted to explor-
ing the theme that one must suffer to be redeemed. A condition of genuine faith
is that it occurs without proof, and even when evidence accumulates in favor of
one not leaping. The Shawshank Redemption (1994) proposes the counterintui-
tive thesis that it is in our best interests to retain hope despite the preponderance
of evidence suggesting there is none. The main character, Andy Dufresne, is sent
to prison even though he is innocent. There he endures a series of brutal rapes,
and his gestures of good will only invite punishment. Through all of it, he man-
ages to keep himself oriented toward the future. Andy exhibits a faith that makes
something more likely to be true. When the chips are down, the attitude of a single
individual can counter the ill effects of despair, but only if that individual is strong
enough to reinterpret misfortune as opportunity. Faith has the power to redeem,
but it is hard-won and does not always please.
Films in the third category are often mainstream productions that invoke a
“good versus bad” formula intended to reveal the power of belief. Those on the
side of good, in spite of being at some initial disadvantage, ultimately triumph
because of their ability to harness and retain a belief in something “more.” The
 Belief | 53

appeal of these films is nonintellectual and direct: there is an undeniable and posi-
tive effect that the cultivation of one’s faith has on one’s goals and ambitions, and
sometimes even on the fate of humanity. In Star Wars (1977), for example, Luke
comes into his own as a Jedi knight once he is able to let go of the constraints of
his conventional senses and trust “the Force.” Spiritually, the Force is a metaphor
for how goodness comes to those who channel the good energy that is to be found
in the universe. The Jedi’s decisive act, in the original Star Wars and its sequels,
is to rise above the divisive states of fear and cynicism and choose goodness. In
The Apostle (1997), an embattled Pentecostal preacher leaves his Texas town in
disgrace to find himself led by God to rural Louisiana. There, touched by grace, he
resurrects a small church and breathes life into an African American community
that had spiritually stagnated. In a compelling scene, the preacher places himself
between a bulldozer and the small church towards which the bulldozer is headed.
The gesture moves the racist driving the vehicle to tears, transforming the hatred
and ignorance with which he had been consumed into agapic love. In these films,
the claims of the characters to deliver those for whom they care from their living
hells seem exaggerated until we take a closer look at the ways in which their faith
acts through them.
By contrast, a number of films make the case against faith. Some of them
portray protagonists for whom desire overwhelms reason. These characters have
evidence at their disposal that they ought not to leap but so yearn for salvation that
they ignore the evidence. Other films close off the religious option entirely. They
advocate an atheistic worldview, construing as naïve those who cling to the notion
that some higher power will be there to save them from themselves. Still others
press the viewer to acknowledge the difficulty of distinguishing a genuine from a
false relationship. In this case, the “false leap” has disastrous consequences for the
protagonist and the lives he touches. In each of the three cases, the intended mes-
sage is not a happy one: we are thrown into the world under circumstances not of
our choosing, and we must cope with our fate without recourse to any supernatural
entity that could redeem us.
Sigmund Freud and Friedrich Nietzsche figure prominently in these varia-
tions of the “false faith” theme. God is either dead or has left the scene. People
let us down; we must rely on ourselves. These films argue that there is no such
thing as an objective standard of conduct or belief to which we ought to conform.
Woody Allen’s Crimes and Misdemeanors (1989) represents an apt case in point,
as the main character, Judah, realizes in the climactic scene: “No higher power is
going to punish us for our misdeeds if we get away with them. . . . People carry
sins around with them all the time.” Judah would know best, for prior to this utter-
ance he has gotten away with murdering his lover, who threatened to expose him
as a fraud for embezzling and cheating on his wife. Judah exits the film poised to
54 | Belief

enjoy the second chance life has given him—or rather, that he has given himself.
Nowhere by film’s end appears a Supreme Being to ensure that the tale will as-
sume tragic proportions by righting the wrongs of those of have suffered injustice.
Although it feels nice to believe in something, “faith” is in the end no more than
the product of wishful thinking.
One set of films critical of the subjective decision to believe construes re-
demption as illusory. In Vanilla Sky (2001), the main character, David Aames,
opts to avail himself of technology that enables him spend an indefinite future
concealing from himself the catastrophic effects of a car accident. He does this
despite the fact that his life will essentially be, from that point forth, a lie. The
lie protects him from the sight of himself, the experience of being ostracized by
others, and, most significantly, the pedagogical burden of having to reflect on the
poor decision making that led to his predicament. Aames’s is the easy way out,
though not any less tempting. Distraction and evasion are cast as alternatives to
courage and decision. In Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004), two lovers
have at their disposal their own recorded voices, which tell them not to proceed
in a relationship with one another. There is no doubt that the advice is sound, or
that the ones giving it are legitimate authorities. The lovers ignore the warnings,
choosing instead to renew a cycle guaranteed to fuel their mutual intolerance. The
rush into each other’s arms is at once romantic and foolish, but the message of the
film is less ambiguous: we are so desperate to believe in something that we will
choose to march into the fire rather than muster the courage to face reality on our
own. As a whole, these films argue that faith is the cheap way out, a “passing of the
buck” of our responsibility to some other party. If we were more accountable, we
would choose reality over pleasure when the two clash. Faith is an escape, a fairy
tale bound to disappoint us. This would become clearer if we looked at ourselves
with greater accuracy.
An even more pessimistic cluster of films explains religion as the weak or
primitive man’s gambit. In Crimes and Misdemeanors, Woody Allen depicts a
dark rejection of the God who supposedly loves and tends to His creation. In the
film’s comedic subplot, Lester, the smarmy, successful filmmaker, gets the girl
even though she has said that she would never go for a man without substance.
Finally (and most tellingly), Judah, the main character, overcomes his pangs of
guilt and gets away with a premeditated murder designed to safeguard his personal
world. We are presented with a universe in which the righteous are not rewarded,
in which God, if He ever did exist, has abandoned us.
In American Beauty (1999), evil is presented as an optional “perspective”
from which we can wrest ourselves with the right self-reinvention. The character
Ricky argues that everything in life can be seen as beautiful once properly ap-
preciated. He puts his theory into practice near the film’s end when he discovers
 Belief | 55

the murdered body of his girlfriend’s father, Lester; he absorbes the scene with
a gleeful, knowing glint in his eyes. This sad moment represents the triumph of
the esthetic over the normative, of the natural over the supernatural. Beauty can
be found in anything if we look at it in the right way. This “glorification of the
esthetic” calls into question the relevance of key religious concepts such as guilt,
blame, and judgment. It serves as a rebuttal of the message of Magnolia, which
asserts a clear difference between right and wrong by offering an unmistakable
warning about what will ensue should God’s law continue to be ignored. π (Pi,
1998) is another film in which those who subscribe to the notion of an absolute
justice and order are caricatured. As with American Beauty, in Pi faith in a “deeper
meaning” is depicted as an arbitrary choice. Any string of numbers, symbols, or
series of events can be made to seem to have significance, but if everything can
have meaning then nothing really does have meaning.
The films The Sweet Hereafter (1997), Amores perros (Love’s a Bitch, 2000),
and Cidade de Deus (City of God, 2002), are less encouraging and more suspicious
of faith than any film mentioned so far. Each tells the tale of communities vainly
searching for self-understanding and forgiveness in the aftermath of terrible trage-
dies. In The Sweet Hereafter, a busload of children perish in an accident caused by
inclement weather. When no one is obviously to blame, the townspeople attempt
to find a scapegoat, precipitating dysfunctional interactions between characters
who display their anger unfruitfully. The audience is left with a feeling of empti-
ness; we are on our own, bereft of any good, transcendent force that oversees our
progress and nurturing.
A third intriguing set of films that raises questions about the veracity of belief
asks the audience if it is possible to distinguish God’s true voice (if it exists at all)
from that of pretenders or from “voices” heard within. Frailty (2001) chillingly
demonstrates that the intentions of serial killers can be as pure as the biblical pa-
triarch Abraham’s were when he was poised to sacrifice his son Isaac. It tells the
saga of a man who makes his two sons accomplices in several brutal ax murders
by claiming that they have specially been chosen by God to rid the world of certain
“demons.” What is both intellectually engaging and hard to bear in this film is the
fine line drawn between genuine revelation and schizophrenic delusion. Contrast
this plot with that of Breaking the Waves, which addresses the same premise but
issues the opposite verdict. In addition, the taut thriller Se7en (1995) presses the
controversial characterization of believer-as-criminal in the form of a serial killer
bent on ridding the world of perpetrators of the seven deadly sins. Spike Lee’s
recreation of Sam Berkowitz’s deranged killing spree in Summer of Sam (1999)
explores the culture of fear brought about by the delusory beliefs a resident of
Brooklyn, NewYork, in the summer of 1977. Dozens of films from the horror
genre, of which The Shining (1980), Misery (1990), and Identity (2003) are the
56 | Bergman, Ingmar

most successfully executed, delve into the religiously insane. In contrast to usual
horror film, we get to know and even take an interest in the afflicted villains, as
their confusion bears at least a structural resemblance to the articulations of faith
uttered by such biblical exemplars as Noah, Job, and Abraham, who were no doubt
similarly questioned by their contemporaries.
Andrew Flescher
See also: Allen, Woody; Horror; Kubrick, Stanley; Tarantino, Quentin; Trier,
Lars von.

Further Reading
Bandy, Mary Lea, and Antonio Monda, eds. The Hidden God: Film and Faith. New York:
Museum of Modern Art, 2003.
Barsotti, Catherine M., and Robert K. Johnston. Finding God in the Movies: 33 Films of
Reel Faith. Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Books, 2004.
Benne, Robert. Seeing is Believing: Visions of Life Through Film. Lanham, MD: Univer-
sity Press of America, 1998.
Gire, Ken. Reflections on the Movies: Hearing God in the Unlikeliest of Places. Colorado
Springs, CO: Cook Communications, 2000.
Miles, Margaret R. Seeing and Believing: Religion and Values in the Movies. Boston:
Beacon Press, 1996.
O’Brien, Tom. “Hope in the Movies.” Religion and Intellectual Life 5, no. 2 (Winter 1988):
109–118.

Bergman, Ingmar (1918–2007)

Ingmar Bergman stands in a line of existentialists that extends from Fyodor Dos-
toyevsky and Søren Kierkegaard in the 19th century through Jean-Paul Sartre
and Albert Camus in the 20th. Although his career began in the theater, Bergman
gained much of his fame through film. He also wrote and directed numerous tele-
vision shows and plays. Through all of his artistic works, Bergman continues to
return to issues of God and humanity’s isolation and alienation in this world.
Ernst Ingmar Bergman was born in Uppsala, Sweden, on July 14, 1918, to a
Lutheran minister and a practicing nurse who shared an often unhappy marriage.
As a child, Bergman was attracted to stories and narratives. He has noted that,
from an early age, he found fantasy preferable to reality.
Two memories of his childhood proved particularly formative, each affect-
ing his later works by instilling in him an important sense of narrative. The first
 Bergman, Ingmar | 57

memory is of him bicycling with

his father to remote communities
and watching his father interact
with different types of parishioners.
Bergman later said that he gained
immense insight observing differ-
ent types of people on these vis-
its. During the church services, he
often sat and watched his father
preach but, growing bored during
the sermon, he would examine the
intricate woodcuts in the church
and imagine all the stories that
these woodcuts depicted. The sec-
ond important childhood memory
was of a gift he received on his
10th birthday; a candle-illuminated
lantern and puppet theater that al-
lowed him to develop his own nar-
ratives. He could create slides that Swedish director Ingmar Bergman in Stockholm,
1998. AP Photo/Gunnar Seijbold.
allowed light to shine through and
then cast an image on a wall. He
began to create his own slides and even splice together film to create his own nar-
ratives. The significance of these early efforts can be seen in the title of his auto-
biography, The Magical Lantern (1988). For the first time, Bergman could not
only observe narratives but also depict them.
Film and theater proved a natural evolution of these early endeavors. By the
age of 10 he was an avid fan of film, and at 12 he attended his first play; in college
he realized that his future lay in these areas. His Swedish Reformed upbringing
made him keenly aware of hierarchical structures, in the church and government
as well as in society. Many of his films (particularly his earliest works) deal with
hierarchy and the mistreatment of individuals by others as a result of hierarchical
institutions.
The role of religion is significant in Bergman’s films, and he was concerned
with issues of faith from an early age. He repeatedly noted the tremendous influ-
ence that the rituals of a traditional Protestant Christian upbringing had on his
filmmaking. The fact that he accompanied his father to visit parishioners also
exposed him to early concepts like guilt, reconciliation, and the power of com-
munity. Such an upbringing also influenced his works’ perspective of God, who is
defined more by absence than by presence. But to say God is not present is not to
58 | Bergman, Ingmar

say that God is ignored. Although God is not present in these films, this absence
is noted and discussed with frustration by many characters in these films. But this
frustration rarely has a satisfying resolution. Silence and darkness often typify
these films.
And this darkness and estrangement carry beyond the relationships between
God and humanity; they are also present on a personal level between individuals.
Conversations in Bergman’s works tend to unfurl at a slow, deliberate pace. Re-
ligion serves to unite the individual with the ineffable but also with a larger com-
munity. Bergman questions both of these functions of religion.
In terms of cultural impact, no Bergman film has been more significant than
Det Sjunde inseglet (The Seventh Seal, 1957), which has inspired other filmmak-
ers and authors and depicts some of the most striking images of 20th-century
film. This work also provides the best evidence for an examination of Berman’s
perspective on religion. It began as a one-act play that Bergman had written
called Wood Painting, after some of the paintings he saw as a child in church.
Indeed, the painting that gave birth to this film is featured at one point in the
narrative.
Antonius Block is a medieval knight who, after 10 years on a crusade, has just
returned to a land savaged by the Black Death. Like Ulysses, Block is returning to
a changed world, where he hopes to reunite with his wife. But as he travels home
to his castle, he has an encounter with Death, who has come to take him. Block,
however, makes an intriguing offer: he challenges Death to a game of chess. The
hubristic Death consents to this challenge and they begin to play, and their game
continues throughout the film.
Their interactions during their match are illuminating. Death confronts Block
in a church confessional, where Block (unknowingly) confesses to Death that he
wants to accomplish two things before he dies: he wants to perform a completely
selfless act of generosity for another and he wants proof (not faith) of God’s exis-
tence. Block becomes enraged when Death removes his cowl and Block realizes
that his confessor is actually Death. In another interchange, Death grows weary
of Block’s continued questions and asks him, “Don’t you ever stop asking ques-
tions?” Block responds “No! I’ll never stop!” Death’s response is final: “But you
get no answers.” Thus the knight’s intellectual struggle with death is acted out on
the religious level as well as the physical and intellectual. In many ways, Block’s
struggles with issues of suffering and theodicy represent the traditional pietistic
approach to God.
A second major character in the film is Jöns, Block’s squire, who is a faith-
ful if disinterested follower of Block. Although he has accompanied Block on
his 10-year crusade, he is rather sanguine about the entire enterprise. Jöns mocks
the idealistic causes behind the Crusades and gleefully (and at times drunkenly)
 Bergman, Ingmar | 59

proclaims his atheism. Despite his views, he often acts with moral force, willing
to take matters into his own hands. On one occasion Jöns wants to rescue a woman
who is being burned alive, but he is restrained by Block. He is cynical about life
and death but also hopes for some underlying morality. Other important characters
include Jof, his wife Mia, and their son Mikael. Jof is a juggler who travels and
entertains while Mia maintains their family and cares for baby Mikael. Jof is a vi-
sionary who has fine (if idealistic) dreams for his son, while Mia is practical in her
view of life. Collectively, they represent a more spiritual and innocent approach
to life. This small family emerges from the narrative unscathed as they furtively
escape while Death and Block engage in a danse macabre.
Bergman’s decision to shoot the film in black and white, a conscious choice
in 1957, adds to the polarized portrayal of his world. The characters are choosing
between stark alternatives and the black/white binary contributes to their perspec-
tive. In addition, the setting of this story during a plague is also appropriate; as in
Camus’s The Plague (1948), the setting for The Seventh Seal is one of despair and
hopelessness. It is stark, and it evokes the question of the presence of God in the
face of suffering. Death is here, certainly, but where is God?
As second film that evokes Bergman’s approach to religion and God is
Smultronstället (Wild Strawberries, 1957). It concerns an elderly, retired profes-
sor (Isak Borg) who is narrating a series of dreams he has had after receiving
a lifetime award in recognition of his 50 years of work in academe. Although
not as explicit in its discussion of God, Wild Strawberries does return to the
question of the perceived meaninglessness of humanity. Borg travels to Lund
to accept his award, accompanied by his daughter-in-law Marianne and his son
Evald. While they travel they have several encounters, including a brief visit to
Borg’s mother and an extended conversation with three free-spirited hitchhikers
who are young and fascinated by ideas. In some ways, this story is the stereo-
typical travel narrative; as Borg travels to Lund, he also travels back through his
own life.
Dreams play a significant role in Wild Strawberries. In the first and perhaps
most striking example, Borg is alone in a stark city. He encounters a man (?)
whose facial orifices are fused shut so that he cannot speak, hear, or see. The man
collapses into a heap as Borg staggers from the scene. Borg then encounters a
funeral hearse which spills its coffin. As he gazes upon the figure in the coffin, he
realizes that it is himself, deceased. After waking and assuring himself that he is
alive, Borg decides to drive to Lund accompanied by Marianne (who is estranged
from his son). While they travel, Borg decides to take the trip as an opportunity
to visit old haunts. They stop at an old vacation house where Borg “watches” a
scene from his younger days when he spent time there with his cousin. This scene
is followed by another dream in which Borg encounters his deceased wife and
60 | Bergman, Ingmar

observes her having an affair. His calm reaction is frustrating to her, as Borg can-
not seem to muster the passion to even remark at his own wife’s infidelity. Their
final stop before receiving the award is at a gas station run by a couple who had
known Borg. They tell him about the tremendous influence he has had on them all
and about ultimately their plans to name their unborn son after him. He is touched
and surprised by their gracious attitude; their fondness for him reminds Borg of
the importance of human contact.
Essential in Wild Strawberries is the close relationship between memory and
self-identity. Borg is incapable of living except through the use of memory, and
memory of his childhood becomes the necessary vehicle through which he comes
alive. His sadness and despondency are palpable, but the key theological point for
Borg lies in his desire to find meaning in this life rather than in a future one. He
wants to create meaning and purpose, which are self-generated; no one can assist
Borg except himself.
For Bergman, religion is always practiced on two axes, the vertical (the in-
dividual and the deity) and the horizontal (the individual and the community).
First he examines the vertical axis of the individual and his or her quest for God,
meaning, and existence. Then he explores the relationships of the horizontal axis,
examining how humans relate to themselves and to each other. Part of the success
that Bergman has enjoyed as an artist is due to his successful exploration of these
two axes in his films, making him one of the great directors.

John Vassar
See also: Europe (Continental); Protestantism.

Further Reading
Blake, Richard A. “Ingmar Bergman’s Post-Christian God: Silent, Absent, and Female.”
Religion and the Arts 1, no. 3 (Summer 1997): 27–45.
Blake, Richard A. The Lutheran Milieu of the Films of Ingmar Bergman. New York: Arno
Press, 1978.
Gibson, A. The Silence of God: Creative Response to the Films of Ingmar Bergman. New
York: Harper and Row, 1969.
Ketcham, Charles B. The Influence of Existentialism on Ingmar Bergman: An Analysis
of the Theological Ideas Shaping a Filmmaker’s Art. Lewiston, NY: Edwin Mellen,
1986.
Lacy, Allen. “The Unbelieving Priest: Miguel de Unamuno’s Saint Emmanuel the Good
Martyr and Bergman’s Winter Light.” Literature/Film Quarterly 10, no. 1 (1982):
53–61.
Lauder, Robert E. God, Death, Art and Love: The Philosophical Vision of Ingmar Berg-
man. Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 1989.
 Besson, Luc | 61

Besson, Luc (1959– )

In The Divine Comedy (1321), Dante Aligheri creates a “pseudo-Trinity” of divine

women that includes Dante’s deceased love Beatrice, who takes the author on a
tour of Paradise and ultimately saves his soul through their romantic and religious
love. Although there are limits to Dante’s feminism, the passages laid the ground-
work for future artists to suggest that sex is not always an impediment to salvation
but may be a means of achieving it. In Léon (The Professional, 1994), The Fifth
Element (1997), The Messenger: The Story of Joan of Arc (1999), and Angel-A
(2005), French filmmaker Besson created his own Beatrice variations whose love
provides salvation for male characters. In Léon, an isolated hit man finds new life
when he falls in love with an innocent young girl, while The Fifth Element features
a romance between a grungy cab driver and a female Christ figure. The Messenger
both deconstructs and deifies Joan of Arc, while Angel-A presents a would-be
suicide rescued by a gorgeous angel—reminiscent of It’s a Wonderful Life (1946).
For Besson, institutional religion is oppressive and strips people of their dignity;
only through love can life’s beauty be reaffirmed. As secularized as she is sexual-
ized, Besson’s Beatrice retains an iconic grandeur and ability to save men from
life’s meaninglessness.
Besson’s love of photography
and storytelling made him an ideal
filmmaker, preferring to focus on fe-
male protagonists because he found
the stereotypically macho male fig-
ures uninteresting, invincible, and
without psychological depth. In
contrast, women characters could
be richer because they often had to
overcome a social or physical dis-
advantage. Although some viewers
identify Besson with his male char-
acters, others have identified him in
his female characters–a charge he
does not deny.
This idea that Besson is both
his hero and heroine is most ob-
vious in Angel-A, about Andre,
an expatriate whose citizenship
is unexpectedly revoked while he French director Luc Besson in New York City,
is temporarily in Paris. Penniless, 2010. AP Photo/Evan Agostini.
62 | Besson, Luc

homeless, and in debt to loan sharks, Andre ponders suicide, but at the last second
a beautiful woman appears and attempts suicide herself, distracting him with the
opportunity to save her life. They spend some time together, and after she scares
away the loan sharks she reveals that she is an angel assigned to show him that he
is worthy of love. She explains that she is a reflection of his feminine side; if he
learns to love her, he will learn to love himself as well. When the angel later invites
him to make love to her, he refuses, preferring to wait until his spiritual rebirth is
complete. At the end of the film, Andre pleads with the angel to stay and not return
to heaven, where she has no memory, no life of her own, and only responds to
God’s commands to help troubled humans. Should she stay with Andre, she would
find independence and love. When the angel sprouts wings and seems pulled back
to heaven, Andre leaps up and grabs her, pulling her down to Earth, proving him-
self worthy of her love. Their love defies God’s will, and she is released.
The Fifth Element features a similarly incongruous love story between Kor-
ben Dallas—a retired marine turned cabbie—and Leeloo, the would-be savior
of all life, who is at once the perfect human and the quintessence of life itself.
Leeloo’s mission is to defeat Mr. Shadow—an evil living planet that threatens
to consume everything in its path—and his human agent, Zorg. The film flirts
with a pacifist message; traditional military force cannot stop Mr. Shadow, which
doubles in size when attacked. However, it is effective against Mr. Shadow’s
agents, and Korben is particularly good at gunning down Zorg’s mercenaries,
while Leeloo uses karate (in self-defense) to kill her opponents. Leeloo’s priest
protector, Father Vito Cornelius—arguably the most sympathetic portrait Besson
ever painted of an establishment male religious figure—uses violence and decep-
tion to fulfill his mission, yet he is portrayed as the most consistently gentle of
the characters and even saves Zorg’s life when it would be in his best interest to
let him die.
In a particularly powerful scene, Leeloo downloads 5,000 years of human his-
tory directly into her memory, resulting in an experience akin to Jesus’ suffering
in the Garden of Gethsemane when he takes into himself all of the sins of human-
ity. The burden of human evil destroys Leeloo’s resolve, until Korben tells her
that romantic love makes life worth living and humanity worth saving. Just when
it seems that Leeloo’s crisis of faith will result in the destruction of the universe,
Korben tells her he loves her and kisses her, generating a divine Light of Creation
that destroys Mr. Shadow and saves humanity.
In The Messenger, Besson presents Joan of Arc as driven primarily by a hatred
of the British, haunted by a form of mental illness, but also praiseworthy for being
a highly daring and charismatic figure who wins by refusing to see any obstacle as
insurmountable. The film is told primarily from Joan’s perspective, and audiences
have reacted sharply to this presentation; some have found it captivating, sexy, and
 Besson, Luc | 63

intriguing while others were irritated and offended by it. Male characters in the
film are similarly divided; typical of Besson’s male characters, La Hire is loyal to
Joan because he sees her as bloodthirsty, sexy, and a good leader but also because
he believes that her visions are genuine and that she is a messenger from God—the
“divine” female. His hatred of the British worries Joan because it mirrors her own,
but she civilizes him somewhat by coercing him into giving up swearing.
The film is concerned with the inherent contradiction of the warrior/prophet.
Why would a follower of Christ lead soldiers into battle? The Joan of George
Bernard Shaw’s 1923 play St. Joan resolves the conflict by arguing that invading
hordes lose their humanity and become demonic figures, justifying retaliation. In
contrast, Besson is much harder on Joan and consistently portrays her as a hypo-
crite, murderer, warmonger, and religious zealot, her early success cementing her
faith in the fundamental rightness of her cause until the British finally capture
her. Even as she triumphantly outwits and outargues most of the ecclesiastical
court judges who question her, Joan has a far more difficult time in her cell re-
sponding to “the Conscience”—a mysterious cloaked figure that only she can see.
The Conscience dogs Joan about her motivations and her inconsistent words and
deeds. She initially assumes that the robed figure is the Devil, sent to shake her
faith, but the film suggests two other possible identities—it is either God or Joan’s
conscience, a deliberate ambiguity that makes the film appealing to both religious
and secular viewers.
By the end of the film, the Conscience convinces Joan that her words and
deeds are not consistent with the message of a peaceful and loving God. She
kneels before the Conscience and makes her final confession. “My Lord, I saw
many signs. The ones I wanted to see. I fought out of revenge and despair. I was
all the things that people believe they are allowed to be when they are fighting for a
cause.” The Conscience grants her absolution, and in the final scene she is burned
at the stake. A cross is shown held aloft as her ashes float upward, symbolically
linking her to the crucified Christ.
Although the film is critical of Joan’s zealotry, Besson’s most strident criti-
cism is ultimately reserved for the members of the ecclesiastical court who judge
her and choose to execute her. The all-male court condemns Joan for androgyny
and heresy, fearing that her claim to communicate directly with God made the
clergy redundant. Besson suggests that the Catholic Church’s eventual declaration
that it made a mistake in executing Joan, and its decision to canonize her 500 years
later, was a disingenuous and contemptible political maneuver. However, he does
portray several of the priests in the tribunal as complex figures, some of whom
believe that Joan is divine, while others are coerced into finding her guilty by the
vengeful English, who want to ease their wounded pride by seeing the girl who
defeated them burned at the stake.
64 | Besson, Luc

Perhaps the most complex of Besson’s “divine females” is Mathilda, the

young heroine from Léon whose virtuous love brings redemption to a seemingly
irredeemable assassin, Leon Montana. He is an ethical hit man who refuses to
kill women and children, refrains from drinking alcohol because he believes as-
sassins have “no right” to drink, and has a soft spot for Gene Kelly musicals. In
fact, despite being an effective assassin, Leon is at heart an innocent who should
never have become a hired killer. The camera shows a supposedly cold-blooded
murderer lovingly tending to a potted plant, drinking milk, and sitting beneath a
statue of the Blessed Virgin in his apartment.
Near the end of the film the audience learns that when Leon was 19 and living
in Italy, he fell in love with a young woman from a wealthy and respectable family.
Her father opposed the relationship but the daughter defied him and secretly con-
tinued to see Leon. When her father discovered her disobedience, he murdered her
and bribed the authorities, who declared her shooting “accidental.” Enraged, the
young Leon sought justice outside of the law, killing the rich man and fleeing to
New York to begin his career as a “cleaner” for a gangster named Tony. There, he
lives a rootless existence, forsaking love and choosing death over life, until he be-
gins a tentative friendship with Mathilda, the young daughter of a drug dealer who
lives in a neighboring apartment. Mathilda’s father has been withholding drugs
from his partners, a rogue group of D.E.A. officers led by the maniacal Agent
Stansfield. When her father fails to return the drugs, Stansfield storms their apart-
ment and murders Mathilda’s entire family. Mathilda—out buying groceries—
returns to the building as the D.E.A. agents are scrambling to recover the drugs.
Fearful of being discovered, she knocks insistently on Leon’s door.
The rest of the film involves the consequences of Leon’s decision to let her in,
as he finds himself responsible for the life of a vulnerable young girl despite his
attempts to sever all ties to humanity. Leon initially wants to wash his hands of
her, but eventually agrees to train her to become an assassin so that she can defend
herself and avenge her family. Despite her advances and his own romantic feelings
for her, Leon seems determined to preserve her innocence and encourages her to
behave more respectably. In turn, Mathilda helps Leon to mature; she teaches him
how to read and write and she reawakens his heart by teaching him to love again,
both as a father figure, a friend, and a potential love interest. The blurring of these
roles often makes the film an uncomfortable viewing experience. For most of the
film, Leon refuses to touch Mathilda, sleeps in an armchair alone, and behaves in
a shy and innocent manner around her, especially when she becomes flirtatious. In
one scene, she lies down on his bed, her arms spread out mimicking Jesus on the
cross, as she announces, “Leon, I think I’m falling in love with you.” It is at once
a confession, an expression of innocence and naïveté, an invitation to sex, and a
foreshadowing that she will ultimately be Leon’s salvation. By the end of their
 Bible Films | 65

time together, Leon embraces life and hopes to find roots and happiness. When
Stansfield tracks them down and it seems as if Leon will be killed, he reveals to
Mathilda that she has finally taught him how to live. “I love you, Mathilda,” he
says, before sending her off to safety so that he can face Stansfield alone.
Far from being traditionally religious, Besson’s worldview celebrates the im-
portance of seeing things as they are instead of through the distorted lens of ideol-
ogy. Arguably, Besson’s use of the divine female muddies the truth in its own way
by romanticizing and deifying women. However, for Besson, these “supernatu-
ral” women represent the possibility of transcending self-doubt and hatred and of
fighting back against a corrupt society by rediscovering oneself in the act of falling
in love.
Marc DiPaolo
See also: Angels; Clergy; Devil; End-of-the-World Films; Europe (Continental);
God; Heaven; Joan of Arc; Science Fiction; Women.

Further Reading
Hayward, Susan. Luc Besson. Manchester, UK: Manchester University Press, 1998.
Hayward, Susan, and Phil Powrie. The Films of Luc Besson: Master of Spectacle. Man-
chester, UK: Manchester University Press, 2009.
Scalia, B. “Contrasting Visions of a Saint: Carl Dreyer’s The Passion of Joan of Arc and
Luc Besson’s The Messenger.” Literature/Film Quarterly 32, no. 3 (2004): 181–185.
Schubart, Rikke. Super Bitches and Action Babes: The Female Hero in Popular Cinema,
1970–2006. Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 2007.

Bible Films

Surprisingly, the Bible film is difficult to define. On the one hand, virtually all crit-
ics agree that The Ten Commandments (1956) is a Bible film. After all, it follows
the life of Moses, arguably the central character of the Hebrew scripture. With de-
pictions of famous biblical events like the burning bush and the golden calf, what
else could this be but a Bible film? Its foundation in scripture notwithstanding, in
order to fill out the film, quite a bit of extrabiblical material was added. Significant
creativity was used, for example, in depicting the early life of Moses, including
the addition of a fiancée and a childhood rivalry with Pharaoh that is absent in the
biblical text. Such changes stretch and distort the biblical narrative, but somehow
not enough to make the film “unbiblical” in the eyes of most audiences.
66 | Bible Films

On the other hand, the historically studied parody Life of Brian (1979) traces
the life of Brian/Jesus from nativity to crucifixion, mocking everything possible
along the way. The controversial parting shot of the crucifixion is accompanied by
the central figure—joined by others likewise crucified—admonishing listeners to
“always look on the bright side of life.” The jokes throughout the film show famil-
iarity not only with New Testament narratives but also with scholarly studies of the
New Testament and its historical context. But although many of the film’s original
viewers considered Life of Brian heretical, few considered it biblical.
Other films—neither obvious (if augmented) biblical narratives nor obvious
(if engaged) humor—stretch the definition of the Bible film. Some, like the recent
screen adaptation of C. S. Lewis’s The Chronicles of Narnia (1950–1956), use al-
legory to tell a story that earnestly engages biblical symbols as well as narratives.
In the story that is the foundation for the film, Lewis—an influential Christian
apologist—spins a magic-filled tale that at first appears to have nothing to do with
the biblical narrative but which, on reflection, contains biblical parallels that are
not hard to spot; the lion king in this alternate universe chooses to sacrifice himself
for others only to be returned to life after death. Others, like The Matrix Revolu-
tions (2003), contain distinctly Christ-like messiah figures. In this particular case,
the movie’s hero, Neo, is a God-like human (“the One”) upon whom the fate of
humanity and the survival of “Zion” rest. Ultimately (after a journey in the ship
Logos), Neo chooses to sacrifice himself for the sake of the world; the movie ends
with his death, but fans confidently await Neo’s second coming.
Many may claim that a film represents the Bible, but there are no obvious or
agreed-upon positions from which to resolve disagreements about which films
to include or even how to categorize different types of Bible films. Is a film that
claims to portray Jesus with historical accuracy—like Mel Gibson’s The Passion
of the Christ (2004)—necessarily more faithful to the New Testament narrative
than a film—like Martin Scorsese’s The Last Temptation of Christ (1988)—that
begins with the disclaimer that it “is not based upon the gospels”? Almost of ne-
cessity, the identification of a film as a Bible film, and the evaluation of that film’s
accuracy, is an exercise in interpretation. Not surprisingly, much is at stake, not
least because of the prestige or influence such a designation may bring.
Possibly the least controversial candidates for the designation “Bible film” are
the so-called biblical epics, a category often subdivided into those dealing with the
Old Testament (rarely identified as the Hebrew scriptures), the Christ films, and
the Roman/Christian epics (that is, films set within the early years of Christianity).
However divided, biblical epics constitute an influential (and popular) genre that
has brought significant numbers of people to the theater. In six of the ten years
between 1949–1959, for example, biblical (or at least religious) spectaculars were
among the most popular films in the nation: Samson and Delilah (1949), Quo Vadis
 Bible Films | 67

(1951), David and Bathsheba (1951), The Robe (1953), The Ten Commandments,
and Ben-Hur (1959). The central element of most of the films in this category is
their focus on biblical figures or events. As for their “epic” quality, the epic is great,
massive, noble, and world-historical; an epic strives to depict its characters and
events on the grandest possible scale. These films create a stylistic effect similar
to that of the literary epic and belong to a particular lineage of filmmaking derived
from the tradition of the spectacular Victorian theater, as epitomized by Ben-Hur.
Before it became the most successful film of the 1950s, Ben-Hur delighted stage
audiences as early as 1899 with a simulated chariot race. In this Roman/Christian
epic, the invented character Prince Judah Ben-Hur, a Jew, must lead his people in
resistance against Rome. More recently, Ridley Scott’s Gladiator (2000) adopted
a similar narrative and epic scale but maintained greater distance from biblical
narrative. Both films are driven by the story of a hero who breaks a previous alli-
ance with Rome, suffers the humiliation of being enslaved, and ultimately ends up
achieving a position of power over seemingly untouchable opponents.
The model film for this subgroup is The Ten Commandments, which often
serves as a model for the entire genre of Bible films. Intriguingly, director Cecil B.
DeMille understood American cinema as representing America to the world. Even
more, he believed that The Ten Commandments could deliver a universal message
to Christians, Jews, and Muslims at once. These ambitions shaped the film, blend-
ing the imagination of the Bible and America so as to present a generalized view
of religion that glossed over ongoing and painful points of tensions between Jews,
Christians, and Muslims.
It is telling that DeMille understood The Ten Commandments as articulating
a vision that had the capacity to unite America, represent America abroad, and
even to stretch seamlessly over the boundaries of the Abrahamic faiths. America’s
epic understanding of its own role as a kind of promised land in global history
finds its expression when Hollywood puts the Bible on film. It therefore makes
perfect sense that DeMille himself would see his work not merely as one film
among others. As one British scholar noted, this form of film became popular in
the United States because biblical concepts so neatly overlapped with American
self-conceptions of mission and morality. In the end, it is impossible to discuss the
Bible on film without saying something about American Christianity and religios-
ity more broadly.
Additionally, the frequent division of biblical epics into pre-Jesus (that is, Jew-
ish), Jesus, and post-Jesus modes also reveals something about how most Ameri-
cans understand Bible films. This particular view organizes films according to the
same imagined history that Christians use to divide the Bible, in which the “Old”
Testament represents everything before Jesus’ life and ministry, and in which Jesus
is at the center of time; everything after Jesus’ death, crucifixion, and resurrection
68 | Bible Films

is understood in light of his life and ministry. This puts an emphasis on Christian
history; even before considering any specific Bible film, one must acknowledge
the ideological and theological assumptions about history that are already privi-
leging certain points of view, and thus predetermining claims of authenticity.
For example, when Mel Gibson produced The Passion of the Christ, he re-
quired all of the dialog to be in Aramaic, Hebrew, or Latin. This unusual step, he
argued, was taken to ensure historical accuracy. Whether this step helped the film
achieve a greater correspondence with whatever events lie behind the stories of
Jesus’ death is debatable; the use of these languages is itself, of course, a dramatic
device that creates a particular effect. What is clear is that this gesture conveys to
viewers that the makers of the film intended it to be accurate.
Indeed, American public discourse on Bible films has often centered around
whether or to what degree a film “got it right” historically and scripturally. Often
the discourse surrounding Bible films implies a peculiarly modern understanding
of the relationship between the Bible and history, whereby scripture is expected to
be (entirely or generally) in accord with what secular historians and archeologists
discover through empirical study. This expectation is far from universal in the his-
tory of Christianity, and no amount of academic study or archeological discovery
could ever resolve resulting historical debates. Claims to historicity and arguments
about the historical accuracy of Bible films are arguments of interpretation. This
is not to say that all interpretations are equal (they are not), or that there are not
more and less plausible histories provided by more or less believable historians
(there are). But it may not be possible to make judgments of historical or scriptural
accuracy strictly on neutral, rational grounds; such judgments are always norma-
tive. The popular tendency to argue about what are ultimately confessional issues
raised by Bible films by speaking about objective, historical truth, therefore, re-
flects more about the place of the Bible in the American imagination of history,
than it does about accuracy per se.
The relationship between Bible films and American culture is not only one
of American Christian ideology on the production of such films; Bible films have
also left their mark on America cinema, sometimes working through contentious
issues that are hardly restricted to Bible films. Some scholars have highlighted the
manner in which biblical epics engaged issues of ethnicity, sexuality, and gender.
Others have detailed the history of how the pious content of biblical films of all
kinds gave an earlier generation of filmmakers license to more directly address
uncomfortable issues related to sexuality, sadism, and masochism at a time when
censorship was restrictive. More often, many Bible films, especially those deal-
ing with the life of Jesus, have become a forum reflecting and shaping national
discussions of pluralism and interreligious dialogue, in part because of the way
they have raised questions about Christian anti-Semitism. There is no doubt that
American Bible films present a Christian (not Jewish) Bible in which the Old
 Bible Films | 69

Testament is superseded by the New and the birth, ministry, crucifixion, and res-
urrection of Jesus is the central event. Equally evident, though, has been the self-
consciousness with which most directors have addressed anti-Semitism. A long
history of anti-Semitic passion plays in Europe had included anti-Semitic portray-
als of Jews as collectively responsible for the death of Jesus. American filmmak-
ers, whatever their own views, have had to respond to this freighted history of
anti-Jewish sentiment.
Although particular films may still retain anti-Semitic images, the genre as a
whole has come to reflect increasing tolerance, and most filmmakers have made
efforts to avoid the anti-Semitic tropes of the past. DeMille’s The King of Kings
(1927) attempted—to debated effect—to avoid the implication that Jews were re-
sponsible for Christ’s death by focusing blame solely on the Jewish high priest.
Interestingly, when Nicolas Ray remade the film in 1961, he suggested that Jews
were not culpable by excluding the Sanhedrin (the Jewish legislative body) entirely
and focusing the blame for Jesus’ death on Pilate. In Jesus of Nazareth (1977),
Franco Zeffirelli consciously highlighted Jesus’ Jewishness, added depictions of
a number of Jewish practices to the script, and publicly expressed his desire to
overcome anti-Semitism.
The responsiveness of those responsible for making Bible films to contempo-
rary social issues has enabled critics to take these films seriously as independent
religious texts, not only as reproductions of the story in the Bible itself. Two de-
cades ago, many elite discussions of such films evaluated them as an entertaining
way of conveying a portion of the Bible, and frequently these films were decried
as superficial or historically inaccurate. Today the conversation tends to give the
films more weight as participating in a larger dialogue with sacred texts and faith
communities. There is little doubt that theological insights are passed from the
biblical text into films. However, critics have increasingly insisted that there is a
way of allowing theological meaning and understanding to be generated by mov-
ing from a film and moving to the biblical text. This interpretive approach can
work with any film in which there is some resonance with the biblical text; biblical
characters and events need not be literally present.
When the Society for Biblical Literature created a handbook to assist biblical
studies instructors using film to teach the Bible, it recognized the increasing
dominance of this new interpretative mode and was compelled to provide two
separate lists of Bible films: the first including those made in the manner of the
biblical epics or Christ films discussed above and the second comprising films
that lacked this direct engagement but nonetheless illustrated or resonated with
particular biblical themes and were therefore recommended for use in the class-
room. This second list includes Ridley Scott’s futuristic masterpiece Blade Runner
(1982), about an assassin trained to kill humanlike bioengineered creatures, which
resonates with and reflects on Genesis. Other films mentioned above, such as The
70 | Black Church, The

Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (2005), Life of Brian,
and The Matrix Revolutions, also made the second list.
With such a broad interpretive tool, one can find the bible on film in almost
endless ways. Recent scholarly essays have considered film adaptations of Daniel
Defoe’s novel Robinson Crusoe (1719), adventurous tales of a shipwrecked sailor,
in dialog with the New Testament account of Paul’s shipwreck in Acts and Corinthi-
ans; have drawn parallels between the narrative style of The Godfather trilogy (The
Godfather, 1972; The Godfather: Part II, 1974; The Godfather: Part III, 1990) and
large portions of the Bible; and have brought Ang Lee’s Hulk (2003) and Zechariah
5:5–11 together to discuss shared themes of sacrifice, violence, and apocalypse.
Although one certainly can create restrictive definitions of Bible films for specific
analytic or confessional purposes, there is no one right, authentic, or historically ac-
curate way to do so. As the above creative explorations of the Bible on film suggest,
even more difficult than saying when the Bible is on film is saying when it is not.
Aaron Gross
See also: DeMille, Cecil B.; Film as Religion; Gilliam, Terry; Jesus; Judaism;
The Last Temptation of Christ Controversy; The Matrix Trilogy; The Passion of
the Christ Controversy.

Further Reading
Aichele, George, and Richard Walsh, eds. Screening Scripture: Intertextual Connections
Between Scripture and Film. Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 2002.
Babington, Bruce, and Peter William Evans. Biblical Epics: Sacred Narrative in Holly-
wood Cinema. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1993.
Bach, Alice, ed. Biblical Glamour and Hollywood Glitz. Special issue, Semeia 74 (1996).
Exum, Cheryl, ed. The Bible in Film—The Bible and Film. Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill,
2006.
Reinhartz, Adele. Scripture on the Silver Screen. Louisville, KY: Westminster/John Knox
Press, 2003.
Scott, Bernard Brandon. Hollywood Dreams and Biblical Stories. Minneapolis, MN: For-
tress Press, 1994.

Black Church, The

If popular culture is a “theater of desires” and fantasies that reflect not who we re-
ally are but who and what we imagine ourselves to be, then the portrayal in film of
the “black church”—a historical construction of predominantly African American
 Black Church, The | 71

Protestant congregations and denominations—is reflective of a mythical black-

ness. It is evident that the black church is portrayed as a mainstay of the black
community, an institution that uniformly provides succor for black people. How-
ever, such a statement is dangerous, as popular films tend to portray both the black
church and the black community it represents as singular and monolithic. Popular
films tend to erase the enormous diversity within black Christian churches in favor
of presenting an amalgam of the most common stereotypes associated with the
black church. In both comedic and dramatic films, the black church is presented
paradoxically. It is a site of hypocrisy and pastoral misconduct. At the same time
as the black church is presented as site of negative human behaviors, it is also pre-
sented as a site of reconciliation. Further, it is through presentations of the black
church in film that movie makers attempt to say something about the moral status
of black communities. As a site of reconciliation, the negative behaviors that may
be present throughout a movie are, at the conclusion of the film, overcome in order
to present a harmonious, unified black church.
An early presentation of the black church on film can be found in the comedic
film Which Way Is Up? (1977), in which there is a lecherous preacher who, it is
revealed, has slept with several dozen women in his congregation. This portrayal
plays upon the stereotype of the black preacher who preys upon the women of the
church. Further, the portrayal of the black church in this movie centers upon the
assumption that sexually frustrated black women populate the church and sexually
lascivious opportunists lead them. Richard Pryor’s character, the Reverend Len-
nox Thomas, is modeled on itinerant preachers who avoided the mainline African
American denominations (especially Baptist or Methodist) in favor of establishing
their own followings.
The comedy Kingdom Come (2001) continues the presentation of the black
church as a site of hypocrisy and contradiction. In this movie, Marguerite Slocumb
is a Bible-toting, self-righteous woman who cannot see that her sons (one of whom
is in prison) have suffocated under her overbearing demeanor. As in Which Way Is
Up? the church functions in the background of the lives of the characters. How-
ever, the people who are members of the fictional Lula African Methodist Church
tend to act in ways that contradict their assertion that they are Christians. They lie,
cheat one another, steal, and bicker over petty issues. It is Reverend Hooker who—
though at first appearing inept—at a crucial moment in the film provides words
of wisdom to the grieving Slocumb family. This moment reaffirms the leadership
capabilities and wisdom of black preachers; Reverend Hooker’s wisdom allows
the members of the Slocumb family to begin the process of reconciliation.
Dramatic films have presented the black church as a site of reconciliation and
healing for black people who have suffered some personal trauma. For example,
the successful Woman Thou Art Loosed (2004), based on the T. D. Jakes book of
72 | Black Church, The

the same name, deals with a woman named Michelle who has suffered trauma
after trauma and, eventually, winds up on death row for shooting the man who
sexually assaulted her as a child. The movie focuses on her pain and her even-
tual healing—which is facilitated by Reverend Jakes (who stars as himself )—and
treats the black church far more seriously than previous movies had done. The
goal of the movie is to show the possibilities of redemption and healing even for
the most damaged person. Further, the movie posits the black church as a source
of healing and reconciliation.
Even when there is no direct reference to black churches, black preachers in
film serve as representatives of the black church. For example, in the movie Soul
Food (1997), there is no scene set within a church. However, the family always
has the preacher (again, representing some nondescript, presumably Christian de-
nomination) over for dinner. Like Reverend Hooker in Kingdom Come, Rever-
end Williams in Soul Food is slow-witted. However, he is also portrayed as being
somewhat lascivious, as compared with the much more sympathetic portrayal of
Reverend Hooker.
Church services in comedic or dramatic black films are presented as being
“soulful” and energetic. The bodies of black people in church services are always
in motion. The call-and-response tradition of some black churches is represented
in popular film as the way in which all black churches worship. The preaching
moment in these movies almost uniformly involves a loud, booming sermon. The
audience does not sit silently listening; rather, the audience participates in the
sermonic moment. The worshippers (again, mostly women) affirm the preacher’s
words by saying “Amen,” “Preach it,” or “Tell the truth.” These services uniformly
include a moving gospel song featuring a female soloist and a choral accompani-
ment. It is usually the church service (in the case of Kingdom Come, a funeral) that
provides the setting for the reconciliation of a lead character back to the church,
his or her family, and, by extension, the black community in general.
Scenes of reconciliation and redemption are central motifs in the presentation
of black churches in popular films. These scenes of personal redemption usually
occur toward the end of a rousing sermon. For example, in The Blues Brothers
(1980), Jake and Elwood Blues receive a revelation—a “mission from God”—that
they must put their blues band back together, after which they and the congrega-
tion (led by James Brown and the Rev. James Cleveland Chior) sing and dance to
“The Old Landmark.” And in both The Color Purple (1985) and Diary of a Mad
Black Woman (2005), the preaching moment and the altar call (which is always
accompanied by a moving, gospel song sung by the choir) lead to cathartic and
transformative moments for characters who had previously expressed little inter-
est in the church. In The Color Purple, Shug Avery leaves the juke joint where
she had been singing and returns to church with a caravan of partygoers as the
 Black Church, The | 73

choir sings “Maybe God Is Tryin’ To Tell You Somethin’.” Shug then takes her
(presumably) rightful place as the lead soloist and reconciles with her estranged
father, who is the pastor of the church. In a parallel scene in Diary of a Mad Black
Woman, not only does Charles, the antagonist of the movie, experience redemp-
tion, but Helen also experiences redemption during a church service. She learns
to forgive Charles for kicking her out of their home and leaving her for another
woman, and Charles sheds his cold, heartless nature and adopts a more loving,
supportive persona. Through these dramatic films, the black church resolves the
sense of alienation and estrangement that the characters experience. The black
church in the film serves a symbolic purpose. It stands in as a representative of the
black community. Those characters who find themselves in despair and alienation
reconcile themselves to the black community through the black church.
In and through presentations of the black church in movies, film producers,
directors, and writers articulate a moral vision of black communities. The black
church in popular cinema does not challenge typical American middle-class val-
ues. Rather, it serves to reinforce those values. All of the aforementioned films
emphasize values of hard work, thrift, sacrifice, and monogamy. Through the por-
trayals of the black church on film, we see black people who are well dressed, well
groomed, and well behaved. Black parishioners of these film representations of
black churches are generally hard-working “salt of the earth” people. Those who
do not fit the aforementioned description usually are wayward people who will
experience redemption and, at the end of the movie, join the rest of the church as
a well-dressed and well-behaved individuals.
The black church in popular movies tends to be portrayed as a place where
class differences among African Americans are minimized. Presentations of black
churches in popular movies do not highlight the vast class differences within
black communities. Rather, movies tend to portray black churches as filled with
people who belong to the middle and lower middle classes. For example, the
families presented in Kingdom Come, Soul Food, and Woman Thou Art Loosed
represent the middle and lower middle classes. There are persons who occupy the
upper socioeconomic classes, like Helen and Charles in Woman, or Teri in Soul
Food, but they are usually portrayed as being out of touch with the core values of
hard work, thrift, and monogamy. The thrust of the movies that feature these char-
acters is the recovery of those grassroots values that would connect them with the
everyday black folk who populate the cinematic versions of the black church.
On film, gender differences within the black church are very stark; the leaders
of black churches are uniformly male. In these films, it is a black male preacher
who provides leadership and guidance within the church. Even in movies where
a woman is the protagonist, like Woman Thou Art Loosed, black male preachers
provide spiritual counseling and give direction to black women. Black women are
74 | Black Church, The

never portrayed as being leaders within the church. However, when movies do
show black church services, women appear in the audience and within the choir,
usually as soloists. Interestingly, it is the conjunction of the male-led preaching
and the female-lead choral piece that leads to climactic scenes of reconciliation.
Cinematic representations of the black church tend to either minimize or ex-
aggerate sexuality in black life. As mentioned at the beginning of the essay, black
preachers in film are either lascivious or completely asexual. The Preacher’s Wife
(1996) is an example of the latter. In it, Reverend Henry Biggs and his wife, Julia,
experience marital difficulty. Reverend Biggs devotes much of his time to helping
those less fortunate in the community and trying to keep St. Matthew’s Church
afloat, but he fails to devote much attention to his wife. An angel named Dudley
is sent to help them with their difficulties but eventually falls in love with Julia.
Throughout the movie, sexual desire is hinted at but never fully explored. Sexual
temptation is presented in the form of Britsloe, Julia’s old boyfriend, and also in
Julia’s past as a jazz singer. However, that past and the temptation it brought serve
to reaffirm Julia’s faithfulness to her husband and to the church. Kisses, scenes
of longing, and affirmations of love substitute for graphic displays of sexuality
and desire. Based as it is on The Bishop’s Wife (1947), the movie has a PG rating,
meaning that parents of children can rest assured that this presentation of sexuality
in the black church is chaste and safe.
The black church that appears on the screen reflects a romanticized view of
black religious and social life. As visual texts, films that feature the black church
fail to engage the diversity that exists within black churches. The presentation of
the black church represents a particular trend within popular films that presents
African American life as singular and unitary. Thus, black churches in American
cinema do not represent the diverse styles of worship, class structures, and family
configurations that exist within black churches in the real world. Popular films use
the black church as an interpretive window that allows the viewer a glimpse into
the lives of African Americans. This window offers the viewer the possibility of a
single, wholesome black community that assimilates all differences. However, this
is fairly narrow and tends to reduce African American life and religious experience
in a highly limited way.
Roger Sneed
See also: Clergy; Protestantism.

Further Reading
Klotman, Phyllis Rauch. In Touch With the Spirit: Black Religious and Musical Expression
in American Cinema. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1994.
 Bollywood | 75

Lewis, T. W. III. “Moral Mapping and Spiritual Guidance in The Color Purple.” Soundings
73, nos. 2/3 (1990): 483–491.
Lindvall, Terry. “Spectacular Transcendence: Abundant Means in the Cinematic Represen-
tation of African American Christianity.” Howard Journal of Communications 7, no. 3
(1996): 205–220.
Weisenfeld, Judith. “ ‘For the Cause of Mankind’: The Bible, Racial Uplift, and Early Race
Movies.” In African Americans and the Bible: Sacred Texts and Social Textures, edited
by Vincent L. Wimbush, 728–742. New York: Continuum, 2000.
Weisenfeld, Judith. Hollywood Be Thy Name: African American Religion in American
Film, 1929–1949. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2007.

Bollywood

Dhundiraj Govind Phalke (1870–1944) created the first Indian feature-length film
in 1912–1913—Raja Harischandra (1913), a silent film based on epic Indian sto-
ries about an ideal king who is tested by the gods of the Hindu pantheon. Phalke
then produced a number of other silent films based on epic Indian stories, includ-
ing Satyavan Savitri (1914), Lanka Dahan (Lanka Aflame, 1917), Kaliya Mardan
(1919), Setu Bandhan (1932), and his first “talkie,” Gangavataran (The Descent
of the Ganga, 1937). Phalke was inspired to produce films by a screening of a film
about the life of Jesus that he saw in 1910 at the America-India Picture Palace in
Bombay. It was this screening, he later recalled, that led him to bring the Hindu
gods to life, just as Jesus had been in that early picture. Phalke’s films, there-
fore, are mythologicals in which events in the lives of Krishna, Rama, and other
Hindu gods (as narrated in the two great Indian epics, the Mahabharata and the
Ramayana) are brought to life through this new visual medium. Although little of
Phalke’s original footage has survived, his legacy can be seen in the Indian im-
perative to constantly retell and rethink the stories of the Hindu gods through the
medium of film.
Bollywood is the term applied to the popular film industry based in Bombay
(Mumbai), India, which produces films in the Hindi–Urdu language. The term
arises from a combination of Bombay and Hollywood and suggests something
of the tremendous size of the Bollywood film industry in terms of its annual out-
put (approximately double that of Hollywood), the popular nature of its films (as
opposed to independent or art films), and its original hybridity of form. Bolly-
wood cinema is also known as “Hindi cinema,” after its Hindi–Urdu language, a
term that is preferred by some because it seems less derivative. Although the term
Bollywood is often erroneously used to refer to all Indian cinema, perhaps because
76 | Bollywood

it is Bollywood cinema that has garnered international fame and acclaim, there
are many other regional cinema industries in India, producing popular films in
such languages as Bengali, Marathi, Tamil, Telugu, and Malayalam; there is also
a small but thriving independent/art film scene in India. Three features that dem-
onstrate Indian cinema’s deep connections with Hinduism are the use of mytho-
logical stories, the darshanic gaze, and the role of song and dance. Although the
discussion of specific movies here is limited to Bollywood, the analysis of these
three features is applicable to popular Indian cinema more generally.
Throughout the 1920s and 1930s, as more Indian directors followed in D. G.
Phalke’s footsteps, the vast majority of the films produced in India were mytholog-
icals. These films—first silent films, with “talkies” following in the 1930s—retold
stories from the Indian epics with which audience members were generally already
familiar; the novelty for viewers lay in seeing these stories enacted in this new me-
dium. Following India’s independence from British colonial rule in 1947, however,
a new genre of film—the social melodrama—came to dominate Bollywood cinema
in the 1950s as India worked to define itself as a modern nation. These films fea-
tured story lines in which traditional Indian values and customs were re-evaluated
through dramatic treatment. An example is Raj Kapoor’s Awaara (The Vagabond,
1951), in which the wife of Judge Raghunath is kidnapped by the thief Jagga but
ultimately returned unharmed. Shortly after her return, however, Judge Raghunath
learns that his wife is pregnant. As rumors circulate that the child may not be his
and as the judge faces the possibility of losing a promotion because of those ru-
mors, he throws his wife out into the streets of Bombay. There, in the gutter, she
gives birth to Raju—the biological son of a gentleman judge and the adopted son of
an underworld thief. This film questions long-standing divisions of class and caste
hierarchy by asking whether the son of a thief must necessarily become a thief and
whether the son of a gentleman is necessarily a gentleman.
Yet these social melodramas, despite their secular story lines, often had
mythological subtexts. In the case of Awaara, the film parallels the events of the
Ramayana epic, in which Sita, the wife of the god-king Rama, is kidnapped by
the evil demon Ravana. At his home in Lanka, Ravana unsuccessfully attempts
to seduce Sita, who remains faithful to Rama, her true love. After gathering up
an army and traveling to Lanka, Rama defeats Ravana and frees Sita. Yet the
epic story does not end here; because Sita has lived in another man’s house, her
chastity is questioned, and she must undergo a trial by fire to prove her purity.
Although she successfully performs this fire ordeal, in many versions of the epic
Sita is nonetheless rejected by Rama, who claims that it is his duty as king to
listen to the concerns of the people; he therefore banishes her to the forest to die.
There, Sita ultimately gives birth to twin sons and raises them as a single mother
in a forest hermitage.
 Bollywood | 77

In Hinduism, dharma is a central concept, meaning “religion,” “law,” “so-

cial order,” “proper conduct,” and “duty.” The Ramayana and Mahabharata epics
teach that it is a Hindu’s dharma to act according to the status of his or her birth
in society and his or her stage of life. In fulfilling one’s individual obligations
properly, one works toward individual liberation and helps maintain not only the
larger social order but the cosmic order as well. Rama, hero of the Ramayana, is
believed by Hindus to be the god Vishnu incarnate; as such he is considered the
ideal man, one who embodies dharma, while his wife, Sita, is the ideal woman.
Early in the epic, when the king of Ayodhya decides to retire and pass the crown to
his son Rama, Kaikeyi, the king’s youngest wife, steps in to redeem a boon from
her husband, demanding that Rama go into exile in the forest for 14 years while
his younger brother, Kaikeyi’s own son Bharata, is crowned in his stead. The king
is heartbroken, but Rama cheerily gives up everything and goes into exile, stat-
ing that it is his dharma to honor his father’s promise and respect his father as he
would a god. Similarly, when Rama later questions Sita’s chastity, she willingly
undergoes the fire ordeal, stating that it is her dharma to be chaste and to respect
her husband as she would a god.
In Awaara, by taking the ending of the Ramayana epic as his starting place
and situating his story in mid-20th-century Bombay, Raj Kapoor questions the
relevance of traditional Hindu beliefs and values to modern Indian society. Do
traditional gender, sexual, class, and caste norms contribute to the building of a
greater society, or do they instead work to disenfranchise and impoverish inno-
cent women and children? At the end of Awaara, our hero, Raju, turns away from
Judge Raghunath, his biological father, and refuses to embrace him through the
prison bars that divide them. Raj Kapoor suggests, through this rejection of tradi-
tional filial dharma, that it is time for the new generation to rethink the old way of
seeing things.
A more recent example of a social melodrama with a mythological subtext
is the blockbuster Kabhi Kushi Kabhie Gham (Sometimes Happiness, Sometimes
Sorrow, 2001), directed by Karan Johar. Like Awaara, Kabhi Kushi Kabhie Gham
also revolves around dharmic conflicts by introducing a flawed husband and father
figure: Should a son still honor his father as he would a god? Should a wife still
honor her husband as she would a god? Yet whereas Awaara suggests, in its end-
ing, a rejection of traditional dharmic norms, most Bollywood films, Kabhi Kushi
Kabhie Gham included, reconcile the dharmic conflicts in a way that accommo-
dates some traditional values in the modern Indian context. In Kabhi Kushi Kabhie
Gham, Yashvardhan “Yash” Raichand has decided to retire and pass his vast busi-
ness empire to his eldest son, Rahul. However, when Rahul learns that his father
has arranged his marriage, he faces a dharmic conflict: Should he marry the upper-
class woman chosen by his father and thereby fulfill his filial duty, or should he
78 | Bollywood

instead listen to his heart and marry Anjali, the woman with whom he is in love,
who comes from a working-class family? When Rahul decides to follow his heart,
his father disowns him. Banished, Rahul and Anjali move to London, where they
start their own family. The remaining members of the Raichand household now
face their own dharmic conflict: should they obey Yash’s authority as the patriarch
and cut all ties with Rahul, or should they listen to their own hearts and attempt to
find him? In one poignant scene, Nandini, Yash’s wife, tells Yash that he is just a
man, not a god, for a god would not have divided a mother from her child. In the
end, however, the family is happily reunited, thanks to Rahul’s younger brother
Rohan: Yash sees the error of his ways and accepts Anjali as his daughter-in-law;
Rahul forgives his father and returns with his wife and son to his ancestral home
in India; and Rohan’s own love interest, Anjali’s sister Pooja, is welcomed into the
Raichand family. Thus, although modern mores like love marriages and interclass/
caste marriages are ultimately accepted, this acceptance occurs within a frame-
work that still privileges the traditional Hindu joint family system, staying true to
the movie’s famous tag line: “It’s all about loving your parents.”
Bollywood films can be loosely grouped into a number of genres: The myth-
ological; the social melodrama; the action flick, including the subgenre known
as “curry westerns,” which became popular with the release of Ramesh Sippy’s
Sholay (1975); the romance, which became especially popular in the 1980s with
the release of films such as Yash Chopra’s Silsila (The Affair, 1981) and Chandni
(Moonlight, 1989). The 1990s saw the dominance of the family “masala” film:
masala is a mixture of spices, and masala films are those that contain a little bit of
everything—romance, action, adventure, comedy, and devotional scenes. In this
way, films like Hum Aapke Hain Koun . . . ! (What am I to You . . . !, 1994) contained
something for the whole family. Although mythologicals are no longer the domi-
nant genre, they do continue to be produced. An example of a breakout success
was the hit film Jai Santoshi Maa (In Praise of Mother Santoshi, 1975), directed by
Vijay Sharma. It depicts the marital and economic bliss that Satyavati receives as a
result of her devotion to Santoshi Maa, goddess of satisfaction. It includes scenes
depicting the vow that Satyavati undertakes as an expression of her devotion, in-
cluding a fast that entails avoiding sour foods, and scenes of Satyavati partaking
in Hindu temple worship ceremonies in honor of the goddess. Prior to the release
of this film, Santoshi Maa was an obscure north Indian village goddess; since its
release, however, worship of this goddess has soared throughout India. Now many
women, particularly those of the lower and middle classes, worship the goddess
by undertaking Satyavati’s vow. In 2006, Jai Santoshi Maa was remade by director
Ahmed Siddiqui. When the DVD was first released, it was shipped in a package
containing all of the implements necessary to worship the goddess: incense, a
small candle, an image of Santoshi Maa, and a pamphlet explaining the vow.
 Bollywood | 79

In addition to the use of mythological stories and dharmic conflicts in both

mythological films and a great many “secular” Indian films, the influence of Hin-
duism on Bollywood can also be seen in the gaze that is unique to this cinema. In
Hinduism, darshan is a central practice, the practice of seeing the gods and being
seen by them. This shared sight or glance is an exchange in which the devotee
expresses his or her devotion to the god while the god blesses the devotee. When
Hindus go to a temple, they go to “take darshan” of the god enshrined within;
similarly, when a Hindu buys a poster of a god and place it in a home altar, he
or she does so in order to be able to take darshan of the god at home. This prac-
tice has had a marked impact on the portrayal of gods in Indian films. Whereas
Hollywood—and western cinema more generally—has typically been reluctant
to have a character directly address the audience, Bollywood regularly breaks the
“fourth wall” for devotional effect. In Jai Santoshi Maa, for instance, numerous
frontal shots of the goddess Santoshi Maa are incorporated into the film, thereby
allowing the viewer to take darshan of the goddess. Indeed, when the film was
released, Hindus did worship the goddess when she appeared on screen in cinema
halls, folding their hands in prayer and exchanging glances with her just as if they
were in a temple. This occurs in “secular” Bollywood films too, as in the opening
scene in Kabhi Kushi Kabhie Gham, in which the Raichand family worships the
Hindu gods during the annual Diwali holiday. Here, sequences alternate frontal
images of the gods with images of various Raichand family members worshipping
the gods in prayer. This technique not only gives the viewer the sense that an active
darshanic exchange is taking place between the Raichand family and the Hindu
gods but also allows the viewer to step into this familial devotional scene by par-
taking in the darshan along with the characters.
This unique gaze is not reserved strictly for visual exchanges between gods
and characters but extends to the gaze between filmic characters as well. For west-
ern viewers, Bollywood films contain what often seems like an over-the-top focus
on the eyes of characters at particularly melodramatic moments, with frontal shots
of the character in which the camera zooms repeatedly in and out, focusing on
his or her eyes, and with alternating sequences between two characters that may
last for many minutes. For instance, in Kabhi Kushi Kabhie Gham, the father–son
scenes in which Yash first disowns Rahul and then later reconciles with him both
convey the emotions these characters experience—anger, disappointment, regret,
forgiveness, love—not through extensive dialogue but through the exchange of
glances between them, as demonstrated by sequences featuring repeated closeups
on the characters’ eyes (and dramatic sound effects such as thunder claps when
Yash disowns Rahul and a musical crescendo as the two are finally reconciled).
Finally, the role of song and dance in Bollywood cinema cannot be over-
looked. All Bollywood films contain multiple song and dance sequences (often
80 | Bollywood

10 or more), no matter what genre they fall into. Thus there is no genre of musicals
in Bollywood cinema because all films are musicals. For Indians, these songs are
what will make or break a film. The songs are released before the film, sold on cas-
settes and CDs and aired on MTV-India, and play a crucial role in marketing the
film. Hindi film songs are prevalent throughout the public sphere in India, played
on buses, at nightclubs, and at weddings, and devotional songs from mythologi-
cal films (like Jai Santoshi Maa’s “Main To Arti Utaru”) are even blared through
temple loudspeakers. For westerners not familiar with Indian cinema, however,
the songs are often a source of confusion or even annoyance, as they seem to
constantly interrupt the film’s narrative diegesis. Yet a careful look at Bollywood
cinema reveals that although many film songs are extradiegetic, in that the charac-
ters are not “aware” that they are singing, the songs nonetheless help to flesh out
the inner feelings of the characters.
Examples of both diegetic and extradiegetic songs can be found in Kabhi
Kushi Kabhie Gham. The first song, “Kabhi Kushi Kabhie Gham,” is sung by the
Raichand family on the Hindu holiday of Diwali. Here the characters are shown
dressed in their best holiday clothes, holding trays containing lit candles and other
implements for worship, and waving those trays before images of the Hindu gods
while they sing. This song is a diegetic sequence, for the characters are singing to
express their devotion to the gods and to one another as a family unit on this Hindu
holiday. Hindu festivals like Diwali and Holi are often an occasion for diegetic
songs in Bollywood films, as they present characters with opportunities to express,
through devotional song, their love of the Hindu gods; simultaneously, through
prolonged glances, love relationships between the characters are developed as
well. The fourth song, “Suraj Hua Madham,” on the other hand, is extradiegetic.
This song can be likened to a dream sequence, for it exposes the inner emotional
landscape of the characters Rahul and Anjali, who are transported to fantastic
places (the Egyptian pyramids loom in the background), have numerous costume
changes, and can be physically intimate with one another in ways that they could
not in the “real” world of the film. In this song Rahul and Anjali sing to one an-
other of their impossible love, exchanging many lengthy glances, and although the
song is extradiegetic, it does set up the narrative conflict that will follow. Rahul
and Anjali will marry, but that marriage is not destined to be accepted in the “real”
world of the film, the world beyond their fantastic dream sequence.
Many other connections could be made between Bollywood cinema and
Hinduism, such as the common use of stories within stories and flashbacks, both
of which hold more in common with epic Indian storytelling patterns than with
western-style linear plot structures. However, it is also important to point out
Bollywood’s (rarely studied) indebtedness to other religious traditions as well.
The influence of Indo-Islamic culture can be found in the language of Bollywood
 Bresson, Robert | 81

cinema, Hindi heavily inflected with Urdu, especially in its song lyrics; in the
prevalence of Muslim actors throughout the history of Bollywood; and in many
of the themes featured in Bollywood films, especially the “courtesan” figure.
Furthermore, Bollywood is also indebted to its precursor, the 19th-century Parsi
(Zoroastrian) theater in Bombay, in ways that are only just beginning to come to
light but that include the theatrical conventions of breaking the fourth wall and
incorporating the darshanic gaze as well as the use of Hindu mythological stories
and subtexts.
Karline McLain
See also: Hinduism.

Further Reading
Derné, Steve. “Market Forces at Work: Religious Themes in Commercial Hindi Films.” In
Media and the Transformation of Religion in South Asia, edited by Lawrence A. Babb
and Susan S. Wadley, 191–216. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1995.
Dwyer, Rachel. Filming the Gods: Religion and Indian Cinema. New York: Routledge, 2006.
Gupta, Chindananda Das. “Seeing and Believing, Science and Mythology: Notes on the
‘Mythological’ Genre.” Film Quarterly 42, no. 4 (1989): 12–18.
Kesavan, Mukul. “Urdu, Awadh, and the Tawaif: The Islamicate Roots of Hindi Cinema.”
In Forging Identities: Gender, Communities, and the State, edited by Zoya Hasan, 244–
257. Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1994.
Lutgendorf, Philip. “Jai Santoshi Maa Revisited: On Seeing a Hindu ‘Mythological’ Film.”
In Representing Religion in World Cinema: Filmmaking, Mythmaking, Culture Making,
edited by S. Brent Plate, 19–42. New York: Palgrave/Macmillan, 2003.
Vasudevan, Ravi. Making Meaning in Indian Cinema. New Delhi: Oxford University
Press, 2000.

Bresson, Robert (1901?–1999)

Scholars and critics alike have labeled Robert Bresson a “Catholic auteur” whose
work explores moral and ethical issues at the heart of current theological debate,
particularly with regard to suffering and death, divine justice and evil, joy and
grace. Writer–director Paul Schrader, whose 1972 book on the “transcendental
style in film” included an analysis of Bresson’s work, suggests that it achieves a
spiritual state through careful use of the camera, actors, and editing.
Depending on the source, Bresson was born in either 1901 or 1907 in
Bromont-Lamothe in Auvergne, France. In his early teens, he studied the classics
82 | Bresson, Robert

and philosophy at the Lycee Kakanal in Sceaux. Initially he wanted to be a painter,

but his temperament was more suited to filmmaking. He became involved in the
film industry through his writing, and he served as a script consultant on several
films before going behind the camera. His first film, a short comedy titled Les
affaires publiques (Public Affairs, 1934) was lost during the war; little is known
about it except that it was a surreal comedy.
Bresson returned to working as a script consultant, making contributions to Les
jumeaux de Brighton (1936) and Courrier sud (Southern Carrier, 1937), which
was based on a novel by Antoine de Saint-Exupery. In 1939, he joined the French
Army, but was soon captured and spent a year as a prisoner of war. After returning
to Paris, he began working on Les anges du peche (Angels of the Streets, 1943).
Bresson was inspired by his friend’s suggestion to make a film about the Sisters of
Bethanie, Dominican nuns who specialize in rehabilitating female prisoners. The
film proved to be very successful and foreshadowed some of the themes, religious
and otherwise, that were to be found in his later works.
For his next venture, Bresson adapted Denis Diderot’s Jacques le fataliste et
son maitre (1796). With additional dialogue by Jean Cocteau, the renamed and
modernized Les dames du Bois de Boulogne (Ladies of the Bois de Bologne, 1945)
tells the story of a society woman who gets revenge on her lover by tricking him
into marrying a former prostitute. Les Dames proved a commercial and critical
failure.
Five years were to pass before Bresson directed Journal d’un cure de cam-
pagne (Diary of a Country Priest, 1951), which is still considered to be one of his
cinematic masterpieces. Adapted from Georges Bernanos’s novel, Journal is quite
literally that—the reflections of a young priest as he embarks on his duties in his
newly assigned parish in Ambricourt. Rather than welcoming him, his parishio-
ners react with indifference, open hostility, and continuous ridicule. His situation
worsens when his superior chastises him for being too soft and ineffectual. Also
plaguing him is an affliction of the stomach that keeps him from eating anything
but hard bread dipped in wine. The priest eventually falls into despair and is un-
able to pray: “God has gone out of me.” By the end of the film, the audience learns
that the priest has stomach cancer, which takes his life. He seems to experience
a sense of peace; his last words are “Does it matter? All is grace.” André Bazin
likened this film to a medieval passion play.
Bresson was also inspired by Andre Devigny’s memoir Un condamné à mort
s’est échappe (A Man Escaped, 1956), which tells of the French Resistance ac-
tivist’s imprisonment by the Germans and his subsequent escape, just hours be-
fore his scheduled execution, from the Montluc Prison in Lyons. Bresson, who
adapted the story, remained faithful to the memoir, offering his audience an almost
documentary-like portrait of the prisoner. However, as only Bresson could, he
 Bresson, Robert | 83

added a Christian subtext, therefore creating a film that transcends the average
prison escape drama. Many scholars have pointed out that the priest in Journal
and Fontaine in Un condamne are Christ-like figures; men who are despised and
rejected and, because of this, must suffer. Adding to the religious tone is Bresson’s
use of Mozart’s “Mass in C Minor.”
Bresson considered Fyodor Dostoevsky to be “the greatest novelist,” and it
is from this Russian writer’s best-known work, Crime and Punishment (1866),
that Bresson crafted Pickpocket (1959). The film centers on Michel, a young, ar-
rogant, antisocial man who spends his days working the streets, subway cars, and
train stations of Paris. He is largely unrepentant for his actions—he feels that he is
above the law—and his compulsion for pickpocketing grows. But time is running
out for him because the police are closing in. In the end, Michel redeems himself
through the love of a saintly girl named Jeanne.
Another Jeanne becomes the subject of Bresson’s next film. In this case, it is
the legendary maid of Orleans. For Procès de Jeanne d’Arc (Trial of Joan of Arc,
1962), Bresson based his screenplay on transcripts from her 1431 trial, showing
the viewer (in 65 minutes) her imprisonment, trial, and execution. Even though
she was manacled, tortured on the rack, and has her genitals examined to ensure
her virginal state, the film is not a sadomasochistic exercise. Jeanne undergoes
extreme suffering—as in the story of Jesus, her detractors can be heard noisily
clamoring for her death—but she gives into despair and fear only once. Despite
the insults, lies, and torments, she remains a faithful servant to God, and for that,
her salvation is assured. As the kindling is lit, she says: “the voices were from
God. All that I have done I did at His command. They have not deceived me. The
revelations were from God.”
For Au hasard Balthazar (Balthazar, 1966), Bresson moves into the realm of
allegory and casts a beast of burden as one of his two protagonists. Despite being
subjected to cruelty and abuse and living in a world full of sin, Balthazar (a don-
key) proves to be a model of saintliness; another kind of Christ figure. Throughout
the film, he is beaten repeatedly, has his tail set on fire, and is neglected. In the end,
he dies of a gunshot wound in the field where he was born; he is surrounded by a
flock of sheep. The film’s other central character is Marie, who, though human,
is equally victimized. Both characters are portrayed as “innocents” who are at the
mercy of others.
As in the previous film, Mouchette (1967) takes place in a rural setting and
features a titular character who is at the mercy of others. The defiant but lonely
14-year-old Mouchette lives in abject poverty with her dying mother and alcoholic
father and brother. She also suffers at the hands of others, including her teacher,
who humiliates her, and boys who tease her. In the film, Arsene, a poacher, tries
to get her to act as his alibi for a murder that he thinks he may have committed.
84 | Bresson, Robert

She tries to help him and even comforts him when he has an epileptic fit. He
repays her by raping her. In the end, there is no escape for Mouchette, and she
drowns herself in a stream. In an interview Ingmar Bergman praised the film, call-
ing Mouchette a saint.
A short story by Dostoyevsky provides the source material for Une femme
douce (A Gentle Woman, 1969), Bresson’s 10th film. Instead of ending with the
suicide of a young, poor female, this film—his first in color—begins with one.
Through a series of flashbacks, the woman’s despondent husband, a pawnbroker,
talks about his tempestuous relationship with his now deceased wife. Why did the
wife kill herself, especially when her final words to her husband were “I’ll be your
faithful wife. I’ll respect you?” It is suggested that the domineering man, who con-
trolled his wife through money, gave the free-spirited woman nowhere else to go.
Lightening the mood somewhat, Bresson adapted the Dostoyevsky short story
“White Nights” for his “ode to young love” titled Quatre nuits d’un reveur (Four
Nights of a Dreamer, 1971). In the story, a young painter comes across Marthe,
who is so despondent that her true love has failed to meet her that she is contem-
plating suicide. The two strike up a friendship and, over the next three nights,
share their dreams. Not an overtly religious film, Quatre Nuits has been described
as a meditation on the nature of love.
Chretien de Troyes’s Arthurian legends are the source for Bresson’s Lancelot
du lac (Lancelot of the Lake, 1974), which, rather than chart the rise of Arthur,
begins in failure. Many of the knights of the Round Table have been killed and the
Holy Grail is still out of reach. Arthur asks “has God forsaken us?” The knights,
Lancelot, in particular, are guilty of hubris. Instead of pursuing the ways of the
spirit, as typified by the church, they have become enmeshed in worldly pleasures,
pursuing physical love and earthly riches. They have forgotten what Jesus says in
Luke 9:23–25: “If any man would come after me, let him deny himself and take
up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, and
whoever loses his life for my sake will save it. For what does it profit a man if he
gains the whole world and loses or forfeits himself?”
Guinevere alone understands this, saying to Lancelot, “it was not the Grail, it
was God you all wanted. God is no trophy to bring home.”
Before his death in 1999, Bresson made only two more films: Le diable, prob-
ablement (The Devil Probably, 1977) and L’argent (Money, 1983). The former,
based on a newspaper story, centers on four disaffected Parisian youths. Charles
is the most sickened by his materialistic environment; he tells his psychiatrist that
his “illness is seeing too clearly.” Like many Bresson characters, he has no other
option but to commit suicide. Loosely based on Leo Tolstoy’s short story, L’Argent
follows a forged bill as it changes hands from its schoolboy counterfeiter to a
shop owner and finally to Yvon, who innocently tries to use it in a cafe. Through
 Britain | 85

a series of events, Yvon ends up in prison, where he undergoes a transformation;

a moral decline. When he emerges, he becomes a multiple murderer. The film,
which won the prize for Best Director at Cannes, raises questions of good, evil,
and justice—or, more specifically, how evil spreads, corrupting all that it touches.
Julien R. Fielding
See also: Bazin, André; Bergman, Ingmar; Catholicism; Dogme 95; Joan of
Arc; Schrader, Paul.

Further Reading
Bazin, André. “Le journal d’un curé de campagne and the Stylistics of Robert Bresson.”
In What is Cinema? Translated by Hugh Gray, 125–143. Berkeley: University of Cali-
fornia Press, 1967.
Cunneen, Joseph E. Robert Bresson: A Spiritual Style in Film. New York: Continuum,
2003.
Keegan, J. E. “Realistic Film Style and Theological Vision in Robert Bresson.” Horizons 8,
no. 1 (1981): 80–96.
Schrader, Paul. Transcendental Style in Cinema: Ozu, Bresson, Dreyer. Berkeley: Univer-
sity of California Press, 1972.
Sontag, Susan. “Spiritual Style in the Films of Robert Bresson.” In Against Interpretation
and Other Essays, 177–195. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1966.
Vaux, Sara Anson. “Divine Skepticism: The Films of Robert Bresson.” Christianity and
Literature 53, no. 4 (2004): 521–537.

Britain

In the early years of the 21st century, mainstream British religion and the coun-
try’s film industry share one vital quality: both institutions are popularly believed
to be in a state of crisis. Despite a wave of public interest in religious issues—
including alternative spiritualities and the variety of fundamentalisms—most
newspaper reports on ecclesiastical matters, for example, are likely to emphasize
either the rate at which people are deserting the churches or stories of scandal.
Similarly, filmmakers struggle to find funding to produce original material; critics
carp about the paucity of good work; and talented directors, actors, and techni-
cians depart for Hollywood. If church pews are empty, so too, apparently, are the
seats at the most recent National Lottery–funded film produced by home-grown
talent. These claims, perhaps, constitute tabloid ideas of a more complex, lived
reality. At its best, cinematic narrative can broaden understanding of the ways in
86 | Britain

which communities negotiate the challenges of the modern world and find new
ways of defining themselves.
If cinema has often misrepresented or simplified religious belief, we might
also suggest that many religions, including Christianity, have traditionally been
too suspicious of (or too quick to appropriate) the medium of film. However,
there is little doubt that religion and culture, as we have known them, are under-
going a change, and so too, therefore, is British cinema. For one historian, the
change is not just a decline in institutional Christianity but a decline of the culture
that reinforced Britain’s Christian identity. If this is true—and it must be open
to discussion—it would have serious implications for the kinds of film that we
choose to watch. Does British cinema share anything with religion other than a
sense of rapid, hostile change? How do “British” films explore the contours of a
multicultural, pluralist society?
It is difficult to imagine today’s British film industry producing work equiva-
lent to Mel Gibson’s violently devout retelling of Jesus’ crucifixion. But neither
does it seem to have the resources or desire to produce a film that reiterates the
satirical scandal achieved by Life of Brian (1979).
This is not because there are neither satirists nor confessional Christian film-
makers working in the United Kingdom but a reflection of the wary attitude that
audiences in the United Kingdom and Northern Ireland display toward external
demonstrations of either religious conviction or an excess of antireligious zeal.
Certainly there is no simple equivalent to America’s “religious right,” although
plenty of smaller pressure groups share similar conservative values regarding the
family, sexuality, and society. The anger generated by the original release of the
Monty Python film might now seem rather quaint, particularly when compared
with the violent calls for censorship inspired by film and literature screened and
published more recently. Although Life of Brian does mock certain religious in-
stitutions, the film also parodies the tradition of biblical epics; if believers are of-
fended, we might say that Hollywood should feel affronted too.
Would a film with similar Christian themes, jokes, and motifs generate simi-
lar opprobrium today? Is British society so confidently secularized that it would
find no difficulty in sharing the joke? It might be more likely that many viewers
would recognize neither the film’s use of biblical allusions nor its references to
early Hollywood screen versions of Bible stories. Visual and religious literacy has
changed. This is not to suggest that religion has evaporated from British cultural
life. Common assumptions regarding British nonbelief might well be wide of the
mark. One sociologist of religion has described the pattern of British Christian
spirituality since World War II as “believing without belonging.” In this complex
religious context, a number of British-based films have continued to explore the
nature of belief and its implications in a detraditionalized world.
 Britain | 87

In 1981, a film based on the real-life stories of athletes competing in the 1924
Paris Olympics signaled both a brief revival in the success of the British film in-
dustry and a turn to religion as cinematic subject matter. Chariots of Fire (1981)
focuses on the endeavors and personal struggles of Eric Liddell and Harold Abra-
hams, two runners. Liddell was an intensely committed Christian and later a mis-
sionary who faced a choice between worldly triumph and religious duty; Abrahams,
the wealthy, Cambridge-educated son of a Jewish immigrant, was exposed to the
worst snobbery of the elitist British class system of the 1920s. The film’s signifi-
cant commercial and critical achievement—it was nominated for seven Academy
Awards and won in four categories, including Best Picture—is partly a reflection
of its tremendously good-looking and strategically nostalgic evocation of a lost
British past. However, this appeal is also subverted by its complex exploration of
the demands of faith and the intricate relationship between belief, individualism,
and national identity. Even the film’s title, an allusion to “Jerusalem” by William
Blake, displays a certain ambivalence: the poem, written by a Romantic mystic
who was fiercely critical of the English establishment but is now sung at the flag-
waving Last Night of the Proms, has become synonymous with sentimental na-
tional pride. The poem/hymn is an appropriate reference point for a film that blurs
the division between spiritual aspiration and patriotism. Produced in the earliest
years of Margaret Thatcher’s administration, this film, consciously or otherwise,
uses its period setting to explore anxieties about the shape of contemporary Brit-
ain. What does it mean to belong to a nation or community? Why are certain
individuals and groups excluded from the mainstream? Is personal success—a
vital component of Thatcher’s laissez-faire economic policies—always pursued at
the expense of a higher morality? Significantly, at the beginning of a decade that
became infamous for its unabashed materialism, Chariots of Fire explored these
questions through the lens of religious traditions.
Different modes of faith are represented in the film: male self-belief is the
paradigm against which all athletes must measure themselves, but this model is
not adequate for either Liddell or Abrahams. One scholar has argued that Chari-
ots of Fire pairs the rites of masculine competition with a symbolic father–son
conflict, specifically in the choice that Liddell is forced to make between “God
and country.” The issue of conscience—a believer must decide whether or not to
compete for his country on the day of rest—is the film’s central dilemma and one
that is rather neatly resolved. Liddell is allowed both to follow his conscience, re-
maining heroically devoted to God’s law, and to succeed on the track. This uplift-
ing spiritual narrative has obvious appeal even for a vestigial Christian audience
that is unlikely to share the protagonist’s belief in specific doctrines. Yet there is
also a less appealing set of inferences in the double Liddell–Abrahams narrative.
Although the film examines Abrahams’s experience with anti-Semitism—and
88 | Britain

sympathetically exposes the pain he feels over it—it also trades on negative as-
pects of his character to intensify admiration for Liddell, the Christian hero. A
predominantly Christian audience is more likely to think of Liddell as heroic,
particularly once they learn that he later dies for his faith as a missionary. Never-
theless, Harold Abrahams’s personal integrity and athletic prowess are crucial to
a narrative that prioritizes moral agency above the ordinary strictures of duty to
nation. Chariots of Fire is a sophisticated film with liberal instincts and, despite its
problematic subtexts, displays a subtle awareness of the complexities of religious
belief in the modern world.
The rare success of this film was not, as some predicted, the herald of a new
wave of critical–commercial triumph for the British film industry. Neither did
it precipitate a flood of religiously themed British-made movies, although Ro-
land Joffe’s The Mission (1986) echoed some of the earlier film’s themes of the
conflict between sacred and secular interests. Like Chariots of Fire, Joffe’s film
emphasizes the sacrificial cost of religious commitment compared with the temp-
tations of worldly success. The 18th-century Latin American setting allows for
gorgeous (and commercially viable) settings and costume. This period location, at
a considerable distance from the world of the audience, also shrewdly creates the
opportunity to explore deeply unfashionable ideas of repentance, conversion, and
forgiveness.
Few British filmmakers of the 1990s and early 21st century have directly en-
gaged with spiritual experience. Yet in spite of the fact that mainstream religious
expression is a more muted part of British life than ever before, with churches and
synagogues competing with alternative nondoctrinal spiritualities, questions of
faith have not entirely disappeared from the cinema screens. Christian ideas some-
times emerge in unexpected cinematic places. Ken Loach’s films, for example, are
rightly celebrated for their unblinking vision of the consequences of deprivation,
injustice, and economic exploitation, but they are not films in which one would
anticipate a sympathetic representation of the church. However, in the highly
naturalistic Raining Stones (1993), Britain’s foremost exponent of social realist
cinema sympathetically explores the relationship between faith, conscience, and
community. The faith of a working-class (but out of work) family man, caught in
a trap of poverty and despair, is not undermined despite his relentless misfortune.
In some forms of social realism, any powerful institution is likely to be regarded
with considerable ideological suspicion. However, in Raining Stones, the film’s
principal representative of the Roman Catholic Church, a down-to-earth parish
priest, is presented as humane, forgiving, and nonjudgemental. Loach offers no
easy redemption and it would be inappropriate to describe Raining Stones as a
“religious” film, but its emphasis on the dispossessed and poor in spirit, coupled
with its hope for justice, echoes certain Christian traditions.
 Britain | 89

At the opposite end of the class spectrum and far from Loach’s esthetic style,
Four Weddings and a Funeral (1994), for example, is famous for its four-letter
words and revival of English class comedy, but it is also easy to forget that it
is structured around public religious ceremonies. The film, unsurprisingly, has
little to offer by way of profound theological comment, but it is a reminder that
apparently forgotten ecclesiastical institutions such as the Anglican and Roman
Catholic churches remain a vital part of British cultural life. Produced by Work-
ing Title, who have become incredibly successful in selling a particular version of
Englishness to a global market, Four Weddings and a Funeral offers a distinctively
parochial vision of the nation; all of the weddings are Christian and there is little,
if any, reference to the multicultural nature of contemporary Britain.
Other films set in Britain respond more directly to the multicultural makeup
of contemporary society. Chariots of Fire, in fact, may have a descendant in the
romantic sports-themed comedy Bend It Like Beckham (2003). In Gurinder Chad-
ha’s rite-of-passage movie, Jess, a talented young player on a woman’s football
team, struggles to please both the demands of her religious life as the daughter of
devout Sikh family and to succeed as a sportswoman. As with Liddell and Abra-
hams in the earlier film, Jess’s story is paired with that of Jules, her best friend and

British director Gurinda Chadha at the International Film Festival in Locarno, Switzerland, before
the showing of her film Bend It Like Beckham, 2002. AP Photo/Keystone, Martial Trezzini.
90 | Britain

rival. Whereas Jess is prevented from playing because it is regarded as counter to

expectations of her gender and religious duty, Jules’s mother is concerned only
that her daughter may not be heterosexual. For the suburban white family, religion
appears to be of no material concern; if they have any particular commitment to
faith, it has no impact on their attitudes to sport. By contrast, for the nonwhite
family, religion is closely associated with ethnic identity. Indeed, in the suburban
world in which the film is set, any explicit religious values are coded as distinctly
“other” to a secular modernity.
Bend It Like Beckham’s resolution to the dilemma of how an individual can
remain faithfully religious and true to individual talents differs markedly from that
offered in Chariots of Fire. In the 21st-century sporting film, religion must evolve
to accommodate new desires, hopes, and ambitions. Jess is ultimately allowed to
leave her sister’s vibrant wedding celebrations to play in a key match that will
ultimately lead to her winning a soccer scholarship, together with her friend, in
the United States. In one sense, the film offers an optimistic picture of suburban
England as a space where people of different creeds and colors can connect. In
fact, Jess and Jules’s friendship—despite the love rivalry necessary for dramatic
reasons—is taken for granted. In another sense, it is significant that the young
women must leave Britain for America in order to succeed professionally. This
may be a less than subtle reference to the continuing dependence of British film
on acceptance by American audiences. The film also trades on another cultural
shift relating to the practice of religion: football itself has taken on a pseudosacred
status. Sport, like religion, has its own discipline, rituals, and icons or idols: in
this case, the idol is the star midfielder David Beckham, who appears both as a se-
ries of saintlike images on bedroom wall posters and, finally, “in person” (though
played by an actor) at the airport as Jess and Jules leave Britain.
If Bend It Like Beckham represents an optimistic, affirmative account of Brit-
ish multiculturalism and the possibilities of both celebrating and transcending
religious difference, a number of other 21st-century films offer a less sanguine
perspective. My Son the Fanatic (1997), adapted as a screenplay by Hanif Kureshi
from his own story, explores the tension between western morality and Islamic
fundamentalism via the increasingly hostile relationship of a father and his radi-
calized son. Ken Loach’s Ae Fond Kiss (A Fond Kiss, 2004) follows the difficulties
of a cross-cultural interfaith love story between two young Glaswegians: Casim,
whose Pakistan-born parents are devout Muslims, and Roisin, a Catholic teacher.
All three films offer a sympathetic (rather than uncritical) view of the ways in
which religious identity both intensifies and is transformed by the experience of
individuals and communities outside of their ordinary lives.
Beyond these examples of British films with religious themes, cinema con-
tinues to be a source of spiritual consequence even when religion itself seems
 Brooks, Mel | 91

conspicuously absent. Often the British experience of screen spirituality may de-
rive from films made thousands of miles away—and not necessarily in English.
But Britain’s own cinema, under pressure as it may be, continues to explore the
possibilities and difficulties of religion in a changing world.
Andrew Tate
See also: Catholicism; Islam; Judaism; Sports.

Further Reading
Brown, Callum G. The Death of Christian Britain: Understanding Secularisation, 1800–
2000. London: Routledge, 2001.
Davie, Grace. Religion in Britain Since 1945: Believing Without Belonging. Oxford:
Blackwell, 1994.
Hale, F. “The Mission as Cinema of Liberation Theology.” Missionalia 23, no. 1 (1995):
72–91.
Robbins, Keith. History, Religion, and Identity in Modern Britain. London: Hambledon
and London, 1993.

Brooks, Mel (1926– )

Born Melvin Kaminsky, Mel Brooks has been an actor, writer, director, producer,
songwriter, and lyricist on film, stage, and television; he is one of only a few people
to have won an Oscar (The Producers, 1968), an Emmy (three, for his recurring
role as Uncle Phil on the television program Mad About You [NBC, 1992–1999]),
a Grammy (three: one for The 2000 Year Old Man in the Year 2000, and two for
The Producers), and a Tony (three again, all for the Broadway version of The
Producers). Not considered theologically complex, Brooks’s films are nonetheless
culturally significant for both the obviously Jewish content and the high profile
given to Judaism generally, not only within the Jewish community but also across
cultural lines into the non-Jewish world.
Brooks was born in Brooklyn, New York, the son of Maximillian Kaminsky
(who died when Brooks was two) and Kate “Kittie” Brookman (whence “Brooks”).
As a young man, Brooks served in the U.S. Army, stationed in North Africa and
then in Europe during World War II. He married Florence Baum in 1951, fathering
Stefanie, Nicky, and Eddie before the marriage ended in divorce in 1961. That same
year he met Anne Bancroft during rehearsals of Perry Como’s The Kraft Music
Hall (NBC, 1958–1971); they were married in 1964. They had one son, Maxmil-
lian, in 1972, and appeared in several films together (To Be or Not to Be [1983],
92 | Brooks, Mel

his own Silent Movie [1976], and Dracula: Dead and Loving It [1995], as well as
television’s Curb Your Enthusiasm [HBO, 2000–2007]) before her death in 2005.
Brooks began his career in stand-up comedy before becoming a writer for Sid
Caesar’s television sketch comedy program Your Show of Shows (NBC, 1950–
1954), working with other writers such as Larry Gelbart, Carl Reiner, Neil Simon,
and Mike Stewart as well as a young Woody Allen. In 1961, Brooks and Carl
Reiner produced the first of several “2000 Year Old Man” albums, and in 1965 he
cocreated the television series Get Smart (1965–1970) with Buck Henry. His first
movie as writer and director was The Producers, which earned him his only Acad-
emy Award (for best original screenplay) in 1968. (He had written and provided
a voice for the animated short The Critic [1963], but the Oscar it won for “Best
Short Subject, Cartoon” went to Ernest Pintoff, its director.) He has since written
and directed 10 other films, producing many and appearing in most of them.
Brooks’s work is often dismissed by critics. He describes it as “spoofs,” al-
though it more appropriately fits into the genre of parody. His High Anxiety (1977)
was a humorous send-up of Hitchcock; Spaceballs (1987) lampooned the Star
Wars (1977) phenomenon; Young Frankenstein (1974, in black and white) and
Dracula: Dead and Loving It both satirized the 1950s horror film. Blazing Saddles
(1974) parodied the classic American western, and Robin Hood: Men in Tights
(1993) poked fun at the classic tale. Despite the general lack of scholarly attention,
Brooks’s works have enjoyed some commercial (and occasionally, critical) success.
The American Film Institute lists three of his pictures in its top 15 of the funniest
American films: Blazing Saddles ranks highest (number 6), followed by The Pro-
ducers (number 11) and Young Frankenstein (number 13). The Broadway version
of The Producers has earned 12 Tony awards—two more than the previous record
(10) set 37 years earlier by Hello, Dolly!—and has itself been made into a movie.
There is a high level of vaudevillian “Borscht Belt” shtick in most of Brooks’s
films, particularly in some of the more popular sight gags. “Walk this way,” a
character will say, inviting others to follow, but invariably eliciting humorous
imitations of the manner and not just the direction of the walking. There is also a
willingness to appeal to a level of humor often considered coarse (as in the famous
“campfire” scene or the character Lili von Shtüpp, both in Blazing Saddles). Some
of Brooks’s interpreters have suggested that his manner of parody is itself drawn
from a very Jewish outlook—that there is something particularly Jewish about his
style of humor. Brooks has suggested that it is a response to the long history of
anti-Semitism; your enemy cannot attack you if he’s laughing. But most recogniz-
ably for members of the American Jewish community—and often for non-Jews as
well—are some of the regular features within his films that are identifiable as spe-
cifically Jewish: his regular and comfortable use of Yiddish and his use of Nazis
(and a few others from the history of anti-Semitism) as targets of his humor.
 Brooks, Mel | 93

Among the most recognizable traits of Brooks’s work is his frequent use of
Yiddish, particularly when spoken by characters who are clearly not Jewish. Yid-
dish, an amalgam of languages based in German but including elements from
Hebrew, Polish, and other eastern European languages, was the lingua franca of
the central and eastern European Jewish community from the Middle Ages until
its near elimination during World War II. Many words in Yiddish have migrated
into common English usage, in part because of the high visibility of Jewish co-
medians and actors (particularly in the first half of the 20th century): schmuck
[literally “penis,” but used in the vernacular to imply an idiot], klutz [one who
is uncoordinated], maven [“expert”], shlep [“to carry,” as a burden]). Yet there
is something unapologetic about Brooks’s use of the uniquely Jewish language.
Whether it is Yoghurt explaining in a Yiddish accent the power of “The Schwartz”
and exclaiming “Oy, vat a voyld!” as his holographic image disappears in Space-
balls, or Prince John exclaiming “Treyf!” (literally “unclean,” meaning not kosher)
as Robin Hood throws the carcass of a wild boar onto the banquet table in Robin
Hood: Men in Tights, or even the character Roger De Bris (bris being the Yiddish
pronunciation of the Hebrew term brit, the Jewish ritual of circumcision) in The
Producers, one can almost always count on Yiddish being spoken in a Mel Brooks
film. In one particular scene in Blazing Saddles, in what is likely Brooks’s crown-
ing moment of Yiddish usage in film, Sheriff Bart narrates his family’s experience
traveling west in (the rear of ) a wagon train that is attacked by “the entire Sioux
Nation.” Brooks, playing the leader of the attacking party, takes one look at the Af-
rican American family and exclaims to his lieutenant, who is about to attack, “Sh-
vartzes! No, no, zeit nishte meshugge” (“Blacks! No, no, don’t be crazy”). Turning
to the entire attacking party, Brooks yells “Loze im gayn!” (“Let them go!”), and,
turning back to the family, grants them permission to proceed. The family thanks
him, to which he responds “A beig a zint” (“Go in health!”) “Take off!” Then, turn-
ing back to his lieutenant, he exclaims “Hast du gezayn in dinah leybn?” (“Have
you ever seen such a thing in your life?”) “They’re darker than us!”
Brooks’s (and others’) use of Yiddish in American film functions not only to
elevate the perceived presence of things Jewish to a mostly non-Jewish audience
but also serves a gatekeeper function, an “inside joke” among an increasingly
smaller Yiddish-speaking subset of the Jewish audience who are given a secret joke
that they can enjoy at the expense of the non-Jews in the audience. Some scholars
of Judaism in American culture reported that, in audiences of the newly released
Blazing Saddles, non-Jews could be overhead complimenting Yiddish-speaking
Jews for their ability to understand the language of the Native Americans!
Possibly augmented by his service in the army during World War II, Brooks
also often uses Nazis (or Germans generally) as particular targets of his lampoon-
ing. (Some scholars cite his sense that, because he never actually saw combat,
94 | Brooks, Mel

he retained a sense of unfinished business with Nazi Germany.) Whether it is

characters significant to the plot—temptress Lili von Shtüpp (Blazing Saddles),
housekeeper Frau Blücher and police inspector Hans Wilhelm Friederich Kemp
(Young Frankenstein), or Springtime for Hitler playwright Franz Liebkind (The
Producers)—or smaller “stock” characters—“Kaiser” saloon dancers, Nazis sign-
ing up for a stampede through Rock Ridge, or a character playing an actor dressed
as Adolf Hitler, all in Blazing Saddles—Brooks has made a career of making fun
of the perpetrators of the most serious threats in Jewish history. More broadly, he
has attacked anti-Semitism generally, as in his History of the World, Part I (1981),
Busby Berkeley–like musical number poking fun at the Inquisition (“The Inquisi-
tion, what a show! The Inquisition, boy let’s go! We know you’re wishin’ that we’d
go away. But the Inquisition’s here and it’s here to stay!”).
Interestingly, several of the more prominent German or Nazi figures experience
some sort of positive transformation over the course of the films in which they ap-
pear, ending the film as much more likeable characters who have come to accept the
presumptive hero, who has been marginalized throughout the film. Lili von Shtüpp,
sent to seduce and thereby to ruin Sheriff Bart in Blazing Saddles, ultimately falls in
love with him, exclaiming at one point: “What a nice guy.” Police Inspector Kemp
ultimately embraces both Baron von Frankenstein and the Frankenstein monster as
reasonable, acceptable members of the small local community in Young Franken-
stein. This, in some respects, might be a more Jewish feature of Brooks’s work: the
Jewish writer/director creating a narrative in which the marginalized hero is finally
accepted, not only by the general society but also by the historic antagonist who
has come to represent unyielding oppression and yet has been transformed after
coming to see the hero as valued and worthy. In many ways, this is a fantasy of the
Jewish community, particularly (but not entirely) in the post-Holocaust era.
Despite its Jewish nature, Mel Brooks’s work has been the subject of some con-
troversy within the Jewish community, where there has been discomfort at some
of the depictions of Jews in his films. Others have cited his film depictions of Jews
and things Jewish as examples of a more self-confident Jewish identity represent-
ing itself (and its foibles) outside of the Jewish world. In either case, Brooks’s films
have traditionally and intimately been linked with Jewish identity in America.
Eric Michael Mazur
See also: Allen, Woody; Judaism.

Further Reading
Crick, Robert Alan. The Big Screen Comedies of Mel Brooks. Jefferson, NC: McFarland,
2002.
 Buddhism | 95

Parish, James Robert. It’s Good to be the King: The Seriously Funny Life of Mel Brooks.
New York: Wiley, 2008.
Yacowar, Maurice. Method in Madness: The Comic Art of Mel Brooks. New York:
St. Martin’s Press, 1981.

Buddhism

Buddhism, the religious tradition founded by Siddhartha Gautama in India in the

mid-500s bc, has spread all over the world in many forms. Mahayana (“greater
vehicle”) Buddhism, which is practiced by most Buddhists, spread throughout
southern India to Central Asia and China by ad 200, then west to Korea in 399,
and finally to Japan in 538. Pure Land and Ch’an (Zen) Buddhism each devel-
oped around ad 500. Jodo Shinshu Buddhism (the most popular form in Japan)
dates to 1173; at around the same time, Zen became popular in Japan. Theravada
(“lesser vehicle”) Buddhism grew in Thailand, Cambodia, and Laos during the
1300s. By the 1880s, Euro-American Transcendentalists were discovering Thera-
vada and Zen Buddhism, just as thousands of Japanese and Chinese immigrants
were coming to Hawaii and the West Coast, bringing with them their own forms
of Buddhism.
As with most religious traditions, Buddhism’s influence could be felt
culturally—in architecture, cuisine, clothing, and cinema. Also, American and
Asian filmmakers have included aspects of Buddhism in their movies as a seam-
less tie-in and not as an overt “product placement” of Buddhism. Although the
addition of Buddhism and Buddhist cultural aspects has added to the richness and
diversity of film, in some cases it has also reaffirmed some of the stereotypes sur-
rounding Buddhism, especially the esoteric sects of Tibetan and Zen Buddhism.
Some of the older films that include Buddhism have come from Japan as well
as the United States and have had a significant influence on countless other films.
Critically acclaimed films like Rashômon (1950), Shichinin no samurai (Seven
Samurai, 1954), and The King and I (1956) were all pioneering in their genre.
Akira Kurosawa—director of Rashômon and Shichinin no samurai as well as
Yojimbo (1961), Tsubaki Sanjûrô (Sanjuro, 1962), and Ran (1985), among many
others—portrayed Buddhism in feudal Japan the way it would have been. They in-
cluded itinerant monks, Shinto shrines and Buddhist temples, prayers to the gods,
farmers’ hardships “blamed” on the gods’ displeasure, and warrior codes, which
were all part of the samurai era. A masterful director, Kurosawa was able to bring
these elements to life and show the willingness of the samurai to bring honor to
their class in order to bring peace to the land. Although The King and I, based on
96 | Buddhism

Walter Lang’s Tony award–winning play and written from a non-Buddhist per-
spective, portrays the Siamese as “backward,” it also presents them as devout in
their devotion to the Buddha; they pray to him for guidance, just as the English
pray to their God for guidance. Although non-Buddhist directors have seemed
willing to depict Buddhist cultures as less than civilized, they have generally not
mocked Buddhist religious traditions.
As moviemaking evolved, so did the use of Buddhism in film. From 1965
(when immigration law changed to remove European advantage) to 1980, the
number of people of European descent identifying with some form of Buddhism
in the United States rose dramatically. In the 1960s, this growth came from the
increased numbers of people participating in Zen meditation, Tantric Buddhism,
Tibetan Buddhism, and other Buddhist traditions. This development was followed
by an influx of refugees from Southeast Asia and subsequent conversions to Bur-
mese, Thai, and Sri Lankan forms of Buddhism in the 1970s. Devotions included
meditation, chanting, lectures, retreats, social activities, martial arts training, and,
in some cases, communal living. By the 1980s, the world had come to know many
different varieties of Buddhism, and Buddhists were being represented differently.
Filmmakers used all varieties of Buddhism from all of the different countries.
In some cases, by emphasizing Buddhism’s “mystical” (as opposed to religious)
qualities, the movie-making business portrayed Buddhism as a superstition, just
in order to sell tickets.
In the 1980s, Tibetan Buddhism became very popular. In The Golden Child
(1986), director Michael Ritchie sought to transform this popularity into a moral-
ity tale of good versus evil; the film capitalizes on the mystical powers of Tibetan
Buddhism to save the world. Wayne Wang directed a series of movies that depict
Buddhism and Asians in a more honest light in hopes of portraying more positive
(or at least more realistic) Asian relationships. In Eat a Bowl of Tea (1989) and The
Joy Luck Club (1993), Wang used Chinese immigrant families both in China and
the United States to show how those families left in the homeland still influence
the lives of their countrymen in the United States. Ang Lee also explored Chinese
familial relationships, concentrating on a father and his three daughters in Yin shi
nan nu (Eat Drink Man Woman, 1994). Akira Kurosawa even used Shakespeare to
recast the samurai and gods in a new light. Ran, modeled after King Lear, portrays
a family patriarch (Lord Hidetora) whose one decision destroys the entire family.
Although Buddhists are no longer portrayed as awkward Asians, they are now
victims of their own form of salvation—Hidetora’s jester raves: “Is there no gods
or Lord Buddha? You are mischievous and cruel!”
Buddhism has begun to appear in animation as well. Walt Disney tackled
the gods in Mulan (1998) and Mulan 2 (2004). In keeping with the tradition that
nothing major can be done in Imperial China without consulting the family gods,
 Buddhism | 97

Mulan requests protection (but not permission) from the gods while continuing in
her quest to save her father from being conscripted into the army. In Mulan 2, she
is summoned by the emperor to provide safe passage for his daughters, who are to
be married to the sons of the next province’s emperor in order to forge an alliance.
As the first real Asian character portrayed as a historical cartoon character, Mulan
is genuinely conflicted by her duty to herself, her family, and her ancestors even
as she and her friends honor her fallen friends and family.
As more Asians came to the United States from South and Southeast Asia
during the 1960s, their influence was profoundly felt. Tibetan Buddhist centers
opened in Colorado and California, while Sri Lankan and Thai temples opened
around the country. Japanese Zen centers appeared in Los Angeles and New
York. These centers have made it possible for there to be dialogue between Bud-
dhists and mainstream Euro-American Christian and Jewish community leaders,
facilitating understanding between the groups. As celebrities such as “Beat Zen”
authors Jack Kerouac and Alan Watts, actors Richard Gere and Orlando Bloom,
author Alice Walker, and others have become known as Buddhist practitioners,
Americans have taken greater notice of Buddhist practices and beliefs. As a re-
sult, Buddhism has begun to appear in American film in a greater variety of
ways.
By the beginning of the 21st century, Euro-American actors had started por-
traying characters who were profoundly affected by Asian traditions and religions.
American directors have generally understood that Buddhism is not just a religion
but a way of life that permeates every aspect of how its adherents live and be-
have. Edward Zwick’s The Last Samurai (2003) emphasizes Katsumoto’s ability
to teach Nathan Algren the samurai way of life, not the American way of life.
Stephen Seagal takes this mentality one step further. Combining his real-life Bud-
dhist beliefs and his martial arts expertise, his direct-to-video Belly of the Beast
(2003) portrays him as an ex-CIA agent forced to fight again in order to rescue his
daughter. Unfortunately, as in the case of so many other American portrayals of
Asian Buddhists, Seagal and director Siu-Tang Ching still depict Asian Buddhists
as simplistic and uneducated. On the other hand, Sofia Coppola finds enchant-
ment for Bob and Charlotte on the streets of Tokyo in her Oscar-winning Lost in
Translation (2003). Bob and Charlotte are two lost American souls forced to exist
and interact in Japanese society. By visiting Shinto shrines, trying flower arrang-
ing, singing karaoke, and just talking, the two form a friendship that transcends
age and experience.
From a different perspective, some Chinese (and Chinese American) direc-
tors have released Chinese movies that focus on the dominant Asian themes of
honor and duty. Ang Lee’s Wo Hu Cang Long (Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon,
2000) was released to much acclaim, not only for its subject matter but also for
98 | Buddhism

his amazing stunts and cinematography. In this film, Li Mu Bai has returned home
from deep meditation, which has left him in a place of sorrow rather than enlight-
enment. However, fate intervenes when an enemy surfaces and Li is forced to
avenge his master’s death, ultimately leading to his own. Another movie full of
amazing (though not as visually stunning) martial arts is Stephen Chow’s Kung Fu
Hustle (2004). This movie, set in China in the 1940s, chronicles the problems of
two hustlers, Sing and his friend, who try to rob the area’s poorest neighborhood—
overlooked by the largest gang because it is so poor. Eventually, Sing is exposed as
a martial arts master whose “Buddhist Hand” technique (which he learned from a
comic book as a child) defeats the gang bully, thereby ensuring peace throughout
the area. Whereas Wo Hu Cang Long is a sweeping drama, Kung Fu Hustle is more
of a martial arts comedy. However, both emphasize the strength of the Chinese
people and their devotion to family and community.
Asian Buddhism has been around for centuries. When Buddhism has been
portrayed in films by Euro-Americans, it has generally been portrayed favor-
ably. However, in some cases, the Buddhists themselves have not always been
portrayed as being as intellectually astute as their American counterparts. In
many cases, those portraying the Asian Buddhists unfavorably have themselves
been Euro-Americans who were practicing Buddhists. Most filmmakers have
shown Buddhists and Asians as members of families trying to maintain their lives
and strengthen their relationships, much as members of any other group would,
thereby lessening the mystery around them. In this way, Buddhism in film has
become less of a theme and more of an aspect of the movie, such as clothing
or food choices. Buddhism is no longer the focal point, nor is it an element of
curiosity.
Tara Keiko Koda
See also: Animated Films; China; Japan; Kurosawa, Akira.

Further Reading
Cho, Francisca. “Imagining Nothing and Imagining Otherness in Buddhist Film.” In
Imag(in)ing the Other: Filmic Visions of Community, edited by S. Brent Plate and David
Jasper, 169–196. Atlanta, GA: American Academy of Religion, 1999.
Dilley, Whitney Crothers. The Cinema of Ang Lee: The Other Side of the Screen. London:
Wallflower Press, 2007.
Richie, Donald. The Films of Akira Kurosawa, 3rd rev. and expanded ed. Berkeley: Uni-
versity of California Press, 1996.
Storhoff, Gary, and John Whalen-Bridge, eds. Buddha at the Movies: Buddhism and Con-
temporary American Film. Albany: State University of New York Press, in press.
 Buñuel, Luis | 99

Buñuel, Luis (1900–1983)

Born Luis Buñuel Portolés in Calanda, Spain, on February 22, 1900, and con-
sidered the father of cinematic surrealism, Buñuel made 32 feature films over
the course of 50 years. From the first film, Un Chien andalou (An Andalusian
Dog, 1929), to the last, Cet obscur objet du désir (That Obscure Object of De-
sire, 1977), Buñuel’s work was highly original, characterized by a fast, concise,
unsentimental style and marked by his powerful, unforgettable imagery drawn
from dreams and resistant to interpretation. Throughout his career, Buñuel repeat-
edly returned to the same three themes: (1) a fascination with the unconscious
and dreams; (2) the emptiness of bourgeois life; and (3) the repressive effects of
religion on individual and social freedom. His attacks on the bourgeoisie were
designed to strip away its respectable façade and reveal its cruelty and hypocrisy.
These attacks often meshed with attacks on the Catholic Church, similarly por-
trayed by Buñuel as narrow-minded and hypocritical. Violent, scandalous, and
funny, Buñuel’s films target religion and society with picaresque satire and sur-
realist exposé.
Catholic dogma is a recurrent target in Buñuel’s films. He began his educa-
tion with the Jesuits at age 7; at 15, he transferred to the local public high school,
where he read Spencer, Rousseau, and Marx, crediting his reading of Darwin for
his complete loss of faith. The juxtaposition of secular and religious ideas high-
lighted for Buñuel the contradictions inherent in any system of belief, an observa-
tion he would visit repeatedly in his films. After graduating from the University of
Madrid, Buñuel moved to Paris, where he wrote film criticism and worked as an
assistant to director Jean Epstein.
In 1929, Buñuel collaborated with Salvador Dalí, his friend from the Univer-
sity of Madrid, to make Un Chien andalou, a landmark of surrealist cinema as
shocking today as when it debuted. In the opening sequence, the young Buñuel
is shown slitting a young woman’s eye, on camera, in closeup. Buñuel and Dalí
intended to make a film that was completely irrational, defying symbolic interpre-
tation. Hence a scene in which a leading man, while attempting to sexually assault
the leading lady, is revealed to be roped to enormous baggage: two clergymen, two
pianos, and two bleeding corpses of donkeys.
Buñuel immediately made two more surrealist films, L’age d’or (The Golden
Age, 1930) and Las hurdes (Land Without Bread, 1933). L’age d’or, a sharp criti-
cism of fascism and church doctrine, chronicles the efforts of an amorous couple
to consummate their lust, only to be repeatedly interrupted. Buñuel critiques the
absurdity of forbidding sex before marriage and attacks the growing links between
the church and fascist parties in Europe between the wars.
100 | Buñuel, Luis

Buñuel’s career as a director was interrupted by the Spanish Civil War—which

sent him into exile in France and the United States—and World War II, which
led to his departure from the United States for Mexico. Between 1946 and 1965,
Buñuel made 20 films in Mexico under the twin constraints of tight budgets and
commercial demands. Despite these constraints, Buñuel still produced works of
considerable originality and vision. Three in particular—Nazarín (1959), Viridi-
ana (1961), and Simón del desierto (1965)—took as their theme the futility of
Christian ideals in a harsh, miserable world.
Buñuel based the screenplay of Nazarín on a 19th-century novel by Spanish
novelist Benito Pérez Galdós about a Don Quixote–like fool. This film, which won
the 1959 Grand Prix International award at Cannes, highlights a theme recurrent in
Buñuel’s films: the folly of attempting to conduct one’s life according to Christian
faith in a harsh an uncompromising world. The movie depicts Nazarín, a young
priest, pure of heart and content with his vow of poverty, living off alms and shar-
ing what little he has with his hungry neighbors. He is the epitome of the Chris-
tian virtues of humility and charity, sheltering and nursing a wounded prostitute
wanted for murder and providing spiritual guidance to a lonely epileptic young
woman. Nazarín’s aim is to teach the women, by his own example, of God’s love
and forgiveness. Both women fall in love with him, not God, and their obvious
affection provokes scandal and the rejection of the priest by his church superiors.
Nazarín then begins a pilgrimage, accompanied by the two women.
What follows is a series of episodes that show just how pointless it is to live ac-
cording to Christian teachings. When Nazarín accepts a job working for food instead
of pay, he sparks a labor conflict that ends in bloodshed. Coming upon a village cut
off by plague, Nazarín enters the village to minister to the sick and administer last
rites. He cares for a dying young woman, offering to help her to heaven, but she only
wants one last sight of her lover. Nazarín is forced to retreat and watches helplessly
as the woman dies in her lover’s arms, her sins unforgiven by the church.
One of Nazarín’s companions, the prostitute, has killed another prostitute in a
fight and is wanted by the police. Eventually the police catch up with the pilgrims
and all are arrested, including Nazarín, who has not committed any crime. His
imprisonment is the beginning of his undoing. When he is attacked by a violent in-
mate, he remains true to his faith and does not defend himself, but another criminal
comes to his rescue. Nazarín asks his rescuer why he would do such a good deed.
His rescuer denies that his deed was good or that any deed is good and tells Naz-
arín, “You’re on the side of good, I’m on the side of evil, but neither of us is any
use for anything.” In the middle of so much misery, Nazarín is an impotent force.
Buñuel continued the theme of the futility of Christian ideals in his 1961
masterpiece Viridiana, winner of the Palme d’or at Cannes. Viridiana, a novice in
a convent, pays a visit to her uncle to say farewell before taking the veil. Her uncle
 Buñuel, Luis | 101

drugs her and attempts to rape her but stops at the last moment and then hangs
himself. Viridiana blames herself for her uncle’s suicide and delays her return to
the convent in order to run her uncle’s estate, as a way of atoning. Like the priest
Nazarín, Viridiana is a faithful Christian dedicated to the Christian ideals of com-
passion, love, charity, and humility. She brings beggars to the estate to live, gives
them work, and leads them in prayer.
One day, Viridiana and her half-brother Jorge are called away to town on busi-
ness. Believing that they will be gone overnight, the beggars take over the mansion
and enjoy a rowdy orgy of food, drink, bawdy humor, and dancing. In another land-
mark scene of cinema, Buñuel arranges the beggars in a precise copy of DaVinci’s
The Last Supper. Another of the beggars takes a “photograph” with a rude gesture.
Viridiana and Jorge return early and interrupt the festivities. Two of the beggars tie
up Jorge and set out to rape Viridiana. She is saved only because Jorge bribes one
of the beggars to kill the other before he rapes her.
Viridiana learns that her piety is not the consolation that the poor seek; their
misery is alleviated only by earthly delights. In the end, Viridiana takes the same
path. Her faith crumbles and she joins Jorge and the maid in a card game, suggest-
ing the ménage à trois that is to come.
Simón del desierto is Buñuel’s unfinished comedy about one of the stylites
of Egypt, zealots at the beginning of the Christian era who prayed in the middle
of the desert, perched on top of columns. Simón is tempted and taunted by Satan,
who finally shows him that faith cannot withstand doubt. After Simón del desierto,
Buñuel continued to live in Mexico but made the last of his films in Spain and
France with considerably improved financial and technical resources and creative
freedom.
La Voie lactée (The Milky Way, 1969) was exclusively about abstract religious
thought, in this case the dogmas of Catholic faith and the heresies they inspired.
Two tramps following a medieval pilgrimage route from Paris to Santiago de
Compostela, Spain, have a series of adventures, presented as a dreamlike series
of sketches without logic or temporal order. The sketches address the six major
Catholic dogmas—(1) the nature of Jesus; (2) the Trinity; (3) transubstantiation;
(4) the immaculate conception; (5) free will; and (6) evil—and are connected by
the heresies that arise from each of these dogmas. These heresies, which have been
argued and discussed for centuries by religious leaders and theologians, become
the subject of the characters’ normal daily conversations. Buñuel uses this incon-
gruity to ridicule people, Christians and atheists alike, who will adhere to a belief
so rigidly that they will fight, kill, wage war, and torture themselves and each other
in order to defend that belief.
Le Charme discret de la bourgeoisie (The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie,
1972) won the Academy Award for Best Foreign Film and is considered by many
102 | Buñuel, Luis

to be Buñuel’s finest film. There is less agreement on the meaning of the film,
which continues Buñuel’s interpretation-defying approach to filmmaking. The
confluence of religious and bourgeois oppression is found in Monsignor Dufour,
the bourgeois priest of the film, who discovers the limits of Christian teaching on
forgiveness when he meets the murderer of his parents. The man, poor, old, sick,
and unable to rise from his bed in a barn, has just asked Monsignor Dufour for
absolution, which Dufour provides. Dufour then takes a shotgun and kills him.
Buñuel does not ask the viewer to approve or condemn this shocking act. It is
enough to demonstrate the limits of Christian forgiveness.
Buñuel made his last film, Cet obscur objet du désir, in 1977. He then retired
and wrote his autobiography, My Last Sigh (1983). He died on July 29, 1983.
Beth Davies-Stofka
See also: Europe (Continental); Truffaut, François.

Further Reading
Bazin, André. The Cinema of Cruelty: From Buñuel to Hitchcock. Edited by François Truf-
faut and translated by Sabine d’Estrée. New York: Seaver Books, 1982.
Buñuel, Luis. An Unspeakable Betrayal: Selected Writings of Luis Buñuel. Berkeley: Uni-
versity of California Press, 2000.
Evans, Peter William, and Isabel Santaolalla, eds. Luis Buñuel: New Readings. London:
BFI, 2004.
Robinson, David. “Thank God I Am Still an Atheist: Luis Buñuel and Viridiana.” Sight
and Sound 32 (Summer 1962): 116–118, 155.
Valle, C. A. “Luis Buñuel and the Discreet Charm of Theology.” Media Development 40,
no. 1 (1993): 13–20.
C

Capra, Frank (1897–1991)

Born in Sicily in 1897, Frank Capra arrived in America with his family at the
age of eight. He demonstrated enormous drive to succeed in his new American
homeland in the highly competitive motion picture industry, working as a gag man
for Mack Sennett before his fruitful decade-long collaboration as a director with
Columbia began in 1927. Capra earned three Oscars for his directing skills and
was instrumental in pulling Columbia Pictures from its status as a poverty-row
studio to one of the major Hollywood studios before temporarily giving up work-
ing on feature films to serve his country in World War II. Small wonder that he felt
patriotic toward the country which had made his success possible; his gratitude is
palpable in most of his films. Although he was not uncritical of America (his films
do touch upon difficult social issues), his patriotism was rarely in doubt.
Religious topics are infrequent in his films and formal religion is as often as
not treated critically in them. Most controversial has been his bringing God into
It’s a Wonderful Life (1946), suggesting that the tensions in the American dream
are irresolvable without a miracle; on the other hand, the film is basically hu-
manistic. The most fruitful course for the exploration of religion in Capra’s film-
making is to examine the distinct sacramental Catholic sensibility filtered through
an Italian ethnicity discernible in his work. It’s a Wonderful Life figures largely
although not exclusively in this perspective.
Fundamentally, the religious imagination on the one hand pictures God as
distant from creation; on the other hand, God is also felt to be close to people.
Although the relationship of these two tendencies is dynamic and shifting, some
have argued that the Catholic imagination inclines toward accepting the closeness
of God to creation. This is one of the meanings of the sacraments, which stress the
availability of grace to God’s creatures. The religious sensibility that evolves from
this perspective is more sacramental and multiplies metaphors demonstrating the
proximity of God to humanity.

103
104 | Capra, Frank

The ambitious Capra strove to

prove his role as the dominant artistic
agent behind his films while willingly
placing his work under the judgment
of the public. To some extent, Capra’s
films hearken back to the comedies of
grace from the Middle Ages. He him-
self seemed partially aware of this re-
lationship when describing the mass as
a “divine comedy,” an off-handed but
significant reference to Dante, linking
the sacramental to the comedic.
Generally, most notable Capra
films are based on a romantic struc-
ture. Romance is close to folklore
and the fairy tale, with heroes battling
monsters and princesses marrying
paupers or vice versa. As J.R.R. Tol-
kien has put it, crucial to such tales is
the “eucatastrophe,” or the happy end-
American director Frank Capra, 1971. AP Photo/
George Brich. ing. In Capra’s versions there might be
a street vendor’s daughter marrying a
European aristocrat or an heiress marrying a journalist, as in It Happened One
Night (1934). Although the situations are improbable, for the enchanted imagina-
tion they are metaphors for the presence of grace in the world or the miracle of the
ordinary.
In the Catholic sensibility, beauty contains a kind of truth, if only on its own
terms. Even the most purely entertaining of Capra films have elements of the mo-
rality play within them. For instance, at a key juncture in the otherwise whimsical
story of Lady for a Day (1933), Apple Annie gives evidence that she is willing to
tell the truth about the carefully constructed subterfuge she and her coconspirators
are enacting so as to convince the parents of her daughter’s fiancé that she and
her daughter belong to a well-to-do family. Of course she is not allowed to do so.
Nevertheless the story echoes the biblical one of Abraham’s readiness to sacrifice
his son: when Apple Annie metaphorically raises her hand to sacrifice her daugh-
ter’s and her own happiness, Capra’s god sends an alternative sacrifice and the
comedy is resolved.
The most familiar instance along these lines is when Peter Warne abandons
the sleeping Ellie Andrews in It Happened One Night in order to get money and
his journalism position back so that he can marry his beloved. Predictably this gets
him into trouble. Because the situation may be legitimately read as a plot device to
 Capra, Frank | 105

delay closure, Capra nonetheless tries very hard to make the protagonist’s moral
dilemma authentic.
As in Dante’s Divine Comedy (1308–1321), one could argue that there are
three levels of comedy: the paradisial, purgatorial, and infernal. All of Capra’s
comedies are primarily human comedies, thus to a great extent purgatorial, but
those mentioned above tend toward the paradisial, in which the heroes achieve
their dreams with minimal effort. Not surprisingly, these films come from the
period preceding his social comedies. The somber Meet John Doe (1941) comes
closest to the infernal comedy, where darkness and even the possibility of death
are experienced. Arguably so does Lost Horizon (1937). The bulk of the film is set
in Shangri-la; nonetheless, with its “paradise lost” theme and the possible mad-
ness of its hero, it reflects authentic darkness.
Among Capra’s more memorable comedies are two that are more clearly
purgatorial. The heroes of the social comedies Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936)
and Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1938) face tremendous uphill struggles when
they leave their wholesome hometowns for big cities. Along the way they meet
Beatrice figures who serve them as guides in their new circumstances. Ultimately,
Mr. Deeds and Mr. Smith themselves turn out to be Beatrices (of sorts) for their
guides who have become too acclimated to their urban surroundings and have lost
the qualities that these heroes possess.
It is in the best-known of Capra films, It’s a Wonderful Life, that all three do-
mains of comedy are brought into play, and the film might be seen as the cinematic
divine comedy of the 20th century. It is a miracle play in a contemporary setting,
replete with an American everyman. The bulk of the narrative takes place in the
purgatorial setting of George Bailey’s life, with his struggle to maintain his fam-
ily and keep the cooperative Building and Loan solvent. When his uncle “loses”
a large sum of money and the threat of scandal hangs over the company, George
contemplates suicide. In answer to the prayers of the community he has served, an
angel saves his life. However, despair does not leave the hero and consequently the
angel takes him on a tour of the infernal Pottersville: ostensibly his own world as
it would have been had he not been born.
The decisive portion of the film takes place on Christmas Eve. The Christmas
carol that is sung at key moments of the film, “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing”
contains a verse about Christ coming to give us second birth. It’s a Wonderful Life
is a comedy of rebirth. Thus at one level it remains down to earth—even George’s
adversary is unpunished despite having gained an unearned fortune. At another
level, it is a heavenly sign; at the moment of resolution, when George rejoins his
family and the community gathers around him to express their support, a glimpse
of the celestial city is attained.
In It’s a Wonderful Life, the Catholic sensibility is inextricably bound to Capra’s
ethnic sensibility. The covertly ethnic community in a typically American setting
106 | Capra, Frank

of necessity confronts the dominant cultural code. Thus George Bailey can be seen
as an ethnic American brought up with a sacramental sense of community, but he
hears the siren call of radical individualism and its promise of liberation from al-
legedly confining circumstances. However, the Pottersville sequence implies that
it was the community that gave George his genuine individualism; the “autono-
mous” individuals of this netherworld, on the other hand, are alienated objects of
manipulation. Unlike the heroes of Mr. Deeds Goes to Town and Mr. Smith Goes to
Washington, who derive their strength from the close-knit communities they leave
to face the dominant cultural code in its more corrupt manifestations virtually on
their own, George remains inside his community, and the conflict is largely inter-
nal and highly dynamic. His wife Mary represents the ethnic American who is able
to incorporate the community’s values within the American cultural context; thus
she is also a much stronger figure than the heroines of Deeds and Smith.
At one level, hope can be defined as the unique human ability to generate
positive expectations regardless of the circumstances. At the theological level,
hope likewise has its eschatological dimension, with its promise of the ultimate
transcendence of the human condition. Although they gain much from the resul-
tant tension of a Catholic immigrant sensibility confronting radical individualism,
Capra’s best films are primarily parables of hope. After his personal experience of
despondency following the success of It Happened One Night in 1934, this hope
became more difficult to attain, and this is reflected in his films. The experience of
the Second World War led to his most profound meditation on hope, touching on
all levels in his masterpiece It’s a Wonderful Life.
Among others, Capra has had a substantial impact on the feel-good tradition
of Hollywood films, a tradition that cuts across genres. However, since hope is
difficult to reduce to simple formulas, Capra’s films survive because of their in-
imitable (if not unproblematic) authenticity. There are few more visible metaphors
in American culture of Augustine’s vision of the intertwining of the heavenly and
earthly cities than watching It’s a Wonderful Life on television at Christmas with
its moving black-and-white story continually intersected by color commercials.
Christopher Garbowski
See also: Angels; Catholicism; Eucatastrophe.

Further Reading
Blake, Richard A. Afterimage: The Indelible Catholic Imagination of Six American Film-
makers. Chicago: Loyola Press, 2000.
Brown, Stephen. “Optimism, Hope, and Feelgood Movies: The Capra Connection.” In
Explorations in Theology and Film: Movies and Meaning, edited by Clive Marsh and
Gaye Oritz, 219–232. New York: Oxford University Press, 1997.
 Catholicism | 107

Capra, Frank. The Name Above the Title: An Autobiography. New York: Da Capo Press,
1997.
Lourdeaux, Lee. Italian and Irish Filmmakers in America: Ford, Capra, Coppola, and
Scorsese. Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1990.
Sklar, Robert. “God and Man in Bedford Falls: Frank Capra’s It’s a Wonderful Life.” In The
American Self: Myth, Ideology, and Popular Culture, edited by Sam Girgus, 211–220.
Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1981.

Catholicism

Few religions have been featured so prominently in American film as Catholicism,

despite the long-standing presence of anti-Catholic attitudes in American popular
culture. Prior to the 1960s, American Catholics lived largely in their own subcul-
ture, marked by immigrant parishes, parochial schools, and parallel social organi-
zations. Ironically, however, Catholic moral attitudes governed the content of most
American films from the 1930s to the 1960s and, in the process, helped transform
American attitudes towards Catholicism. Thus, the representation of Catholicism
in the American cinema during the 20th century cannot be separated from the role
played by Catholics as the self-appointed guardians of cinematic morality.
Prior to the mid-20th century, Catholicism seemed to be a foreign presence
in America, where anti-Catholic attitudes had enjoyed a long cultural history. Yet,
Catholicism’s very “mysteriousness” proved to be attractive to American film-
makers, and so, from the very birth of the industry, Catholic characters and themes
found a place in the American cinema.
Perhaps the first American feature film to present images of Catholics and
Catholicism was D. W. Griffith’s silent epic Intolerance (1916), a lengthy montage
of four separate yet interspersed plots. The story line, titled “The Modern Story”
(recut and released as The Mother and the Law [1919]), presented as its protago-
nists working-class immigrant Catholics oppressed and exploited by sanctimo-
nious and meddlesome “reformers.” Although Griffith presented his characters
sympathetically, one reference to their religious practices—when the female lead
is forced by her father to kneel before an image of the Virgin and Child—hints
darkly at superstitious ritualism and sexual repression. But when the male lead is
unjustly accused of murder, Griffith offers audiences the first on-screen confes-
sion to a priest, a plot device that future filmmakers would use in various ways to
objectify moral conflict.
The Catholic press took little note of Intolerance, but by the early 1920s, local
dioceses were beginning to respond to what their bishops regarded as questionable
108 | Catholicism

moral content in films. One national group, the International Federation of Catho-
lic Alumnae (IFCA), developed a rating system to guide Catholics in their choice
of suitable films, and growing criticism about “unsuitable” films led some direc-
tors to employ Catholic priests as advisers for films with religious themes. One
such advisor was Father Daniel Lord, a Jesuit and professor of drama at St. Louis
University, who teamed with Martin Quigley, a Catholic layman and the publisher
of an industry journal, to draft a code of self-regulation that they pushed the in-
dustry to adopt. Their proposal was eagerly embraced by Will Hays, a devout
Presbyterian and the president of the Motion Picture Producers and Distributors of
America, whose own list of “Don’ts and Be Carefuls” was proving to be ineffec-
tive. Thus, the proposal of Lord and Quigley provided the basis for the legendary
“Hays Code,” which regulated film content for over 30 years.
One of the earliest films to provoke organized Catholic criticism, however, had
nothing to do with the issues of morality. MGM’s The Callahans and the Murphys
(1927) raised the ire of Catholics because of the blatant stereotyping of its Irish
immigrant characters. The Irish-dominated American church not only found these
characterizations offensive, but negative references to the Catholic faith—such as
characters being too drunk to properly make the sign of the cross or behaving in
raucous fashion at a St. Patrick’s Day celebration— drew condemnation from vari-
ous urban dioceses and forced MGM to withdraw the film until appropriate cuts
could be made.
By the early 1930s, the lack of compliance to the voluntary code led to the for-
mation of the Legion of Decency, a Catholic watchdog group that began with sepa-
rate diocesan chapters but rapidly developed a national administration. Throughout
the country, lay Catholics pledged annually to protest “unwholesome” pictures and
“to arouse public opinion against” objectionable themes and characterizations.
Joseph Breen, a lay Catholic recently hired by Hays to serve as his public relations
adviser, recognized the tremendous power that the threat of legion boycotts might
have in enforcing the code; therefore he helped to make the legion a formidable
national pressure group. Hoping to avoid the legion’s condemnation of films, Hays
appointed Breen head of the Production Code Administration (PCA), thus giving
him the power to edit offending scripts even prior to filming. This double threat of
PCA censorship and legion boycott gave a handful of Catholics tremendous power
over what appeared on American theater screens—an effort specifically endorsed
by Pope Pius XI in his 1936 encyclical Vigilanti Cura.
The code cautioned against negative depictions of religion and forbade ridi-
culing clerical characters in a comic or villainous manner. Neither prohibition was
specific to Catholicism, but with Catholics in charge of enforcement, filmmakers
tried specifically to appease Catholic sensibilities. Thus, Father John Devlin, the
head of the Legion in the Archdiocese of Los Angeles, not only received advance
 Catholicism | 109

scripts and served as adviser to many films with a religious character or plot, but
the changes he recommended were intended both to seek compliance with the code
and to defend the Catholic faith from any misrepresentation or negative depiction.
For the most part, the sensitive area of religious worship was avoided altogether,
but religion itself, and Catholicism in particular, proved to be an accepted means
of symbolizing the values urged by the code.
The first significant test of the code came with the development of the crime
drama genre in the 1930s. Films such as Little Caesar (1931) and Public Enemy
(1931) not only came close to glorifying criminal behavior but their title characters
were invariably Catholic (usually Irish or Italian). Although Catholicism might be
glimpsed only in passing in most of these films, in others the church, usually
through a priest, provided an essential element of the plot. Father Jerry Connolly
as the foil for Rocky Sullivan in Angels With Dirty Faces (1938) established the
priest as a key character who could provide the “compensating moral values” that
Breen demanded of such films. Unlike the overwrought Father Farley in Intoler-
ance, Father Connolly was not an ethereal presence—he was a collegiate football
star and a former boxer who could take down a bully with a single punch. It was
his role as Rocky’s confessor, however, that made Father Connolly the moral con-
science of the film and the “compensation” that balanced the portrayal of Rocky’s
glamorous life of crime. Although Catholic censors in the 1930s objected to de-
picting sacramental penance or using the confessional as a prop, future films such
as Alfred Hitchcock’s I Confess (1953) could make the sacrament and the seal of
the confession the fundamental elements around which the plot developed.
A less risky representation of the pugnacious priest with a strong social con-
science also appeared in 1938 with Father Flanagan in Boys Town (1938). For
the most part, Father Flanagan fought bureaucratic and government agencies, but
he was not above removing his collar to punch out a critic. No doubt the heroic
masculinity displayed by celluloid priests such as Connolly and Flanagan—or by
patriotic priests such as Father Duffy in The Fighting 69th (1940), Father “Big
Mike” Harrigan in God Is My Co-Pilot (1945), or even the “salt of the earth” lay
Catholics in The Fighting Sullivans (1944)—dampened any objections that the
Irish were again being stereotyped. Indeed, by the mid-1940s, the bellicose image
of the Irish, which had been so offensive to Catholic audiences in the 1920s, had
become the prime symbol of their patriotism and Americanization.
Catholic assimilation into the larger culture also developed as a subtle yet
important theme during the 1940s in films such as Going My Way (1944) and
The Bells of St. Mary’s (1945). Both films had as their principal character Father
Charles Francis Patrick O’Malley, who solved problems with his charm and his
(primarily musical) talents rather than his fists. Father O’Malley represented the
second generation of Irish-American clerics: assimilated into the larger culture,
110 | Catholicism

athletic, practical, and “progressive.” In Going My Way, the contrast between Fa-
ther O’Malley and the older immigrant “bricks and mortar” Father Fitzgibbon
was sharply drawn. Rather stiff and perfunctorily pious, Father Fitzgibbon always
wore a cassock and biretta, while Father O’Malley first appears with his Roman
collar counterbalanced by a jaunty straw hat. The more relaxed clothing (Father
O’Malley even meets Father Fitzgibbon while wearing “sweats”) indicates that
Father O’Malley is a different sort of priest; he is counselor but not a confes-
sor, and his sermons are in his actions, not his words. Eventually, both priests
find themselves brought together through their Irish roots, symbolized by a shared
bottle of Irish whiskey and Bing Crosby’s crooning of “An Irish Lullaby” (a scene
that purportedly received a positive review from Pope Pius XII). As a sequel, The
Bells of St. Mary’s offered a less satisfying plot but became the quintessential
Catholic film, its title appearing on movie marquees in films such as It’s a Wonder-
ful Life (1946) and The Godfather (1972). The film paired Father O’Malley with
an equally clever nun, Sister Mary Benedict. Although Sister Benedict’s full habit
was supposed to mark her as the counterpart of Father Fitzgibbon, she was also
able to use her wits and charm as occasion required, even teaching a young pro-
tégé how to box. This pairing of a priest and nun in a battle of wits, however, pre-
sented a stark contrast between the good sister, who remained a bit otherworldly,
and the more worldly-wise priest, who secured the property donation that would
save the nun’s financially troubled school. Ultimately, success within the larger
culture required practicality, not piety.
Nuns appeared with increasing regularity in postwar films but rarely as com-
plex or even conflicted characters. Like Sister Benedict, the sisters of the fictional
Order of the Holy Endeavor in Come to the Stable (1949) or the German sisters of
Lilies of the Field (1963) relied upon prayer to manipulate even the most hardened
sinners into supporting their cause, although it was their persistence rather than
their piety that usually triumphed. When a female religious appeared as a character
in a less sentimentalized film, a tension invariably developed between her broad
humanitarianism and her restrictive religious vows. Thus, the heroic Sister Luke in
The Nun’s Story (1959) is forced to choose between her vocation as a nun and her
vocation as a nurse, ultimately choosing the latter. The depiction of a nun breaking
her vows, however, was often enough to generate a protest by the Catholic Legion
of Decency in some dioceses.
One reason that priests and nuns proved to be such enduring characters was
because their religious vestments provided an easy way to depict inner struggles
through outward symbolism. Father Flanagan’s removal of his collar before strik-
ing an opponent was one early example of this, but the rejection of a habit by a
female religious novice or professed sister marked a much more defining action.
Although marriage could be justified as a sufficient rationale for such, Catholic
 Catholicism | 111

attitudes toward the sacrality of final vows meant that those who chose this path—
such as Sister Maria in The Sound of Music (1965)—had to be portrayed as nov-
ices or postulants whose simple vows were not regarded as permanent. In Change
of Habit (1969), Sister Michelle succumbs to the charms of none other than Elvis
Presley, whose character operates a clinic for the poor in Spanish Harlem, where
the Little Sisters of St. Mary staff a mission. True to its title, a key subtext in the
film has to do with the symbolism of the clothing worn by the Little Sisters, who
doff their habits for more conventional clothing at the beginning of the film (an
indulgence granted by the recent Second Vatican Council), but then they must
don them again at the insistence of the old-fashioned Irish parish priest. Sister
Michelle’s decision either to return to the habit or to leave to marry the good doc-
tor is left ambiguous in the film’s final scene. A reversal of sorts occurs in Sister
Act (1992), when a lounge singer witnesses a murder and must don a habit in order
to hide out in a convent. Inevitably, the new “novice” clashes with the crusty old
mother superior, but, true to convention, Sister Mary Clarence brings new vitality
to the dying convent, primarily through her musical talents. Her own short experi-
ence in the habit brings her a new moral fortitude as a means of redemption from
her earlier, more dissolute lifestyle.
Priests and nuns were one thing; saints presented a different set of problems.
Although the code prohibited negative depictions of clergy, Breen and his office
were willing to recognize that as humans, priests could certainly be tempted and
otherwise might stray from perfection. Thus, films such as The Garden of Allah
(1936), in which a Trappist monk has a romantic encounter with a woman while
experiencing a crisis of vocation, could pass muster as long as the final resolution
returned the wayward to his vows. But with canonized individuals, Catholics were
quick to object to anything that placed either the saint or the church in a negative
light. Cecil B. DeMille’s attempt to portray a very human Joan of Arc in Joan
the Woman (1917) aroused a storm of protest, not only for its background love story
regarding the future saint (Joan was not canonized until 1920) but for its one-
dimensional depiction of Joan’s adversary Bishop Cauchon and his fellow inquisitors.
DeMille’s attempts to defend this image of Cauchon as historically accurate fell on
deaf ears, and he finally said that the offending materials might be excised when the
film was shown in heavily Catholic areas. Given the problems that DeMille faced
before the creation of the legion, there is little wonder that subsequent attempts to
tell the story of Joan in film, such as Victor Fleming’s Joan of Arc (1948) and Otto
Preminger’s Saint Joan (1957), were more carefully innocuous.
Thus, Henry King’s reverent retelling of the story of Bernadette Soubirous’s
visions of the Virgin Mary at Lourdes in The Song of Bernadette (1943) was, in
many ways, a surprising choice of subject matter. Bernadette was appropriately
pious and the secular dignitaries suitably arrogant and condescending, but the
112 | Catholicism

story of an apparition of Mary—and the identification of the apparition as the Im-

maculate Conception—presented a dogma in need of careful explanation because
of both the possible offense it offered to Catholic sensibilities and its latent sexual
nature. The delicacy of the subject matter no doubt led to the famous epigraph that
opened the film and was later placed in the mouth of Father Peyramale, the dean
of Lourdes and initially an opponent of Bernadette: “To those who believe in God,
no explanation is necessary. To those who do not believe in God, no explanation
is possible” (or “will suffice”). Although the film presents a generally positive
portrayal of Catholicism, there is still a strong tension between the innocent piety
of Bernadette and the skepticism of the representatives of the church. The overall
tone of the film is respectful of and perhaps even deferential toward the young
saint and popular Catholic piety.
The Song of Bernadette was popular with both Catholic audiences and other
war-weary Americans who found comfort in the idea of transcendental values de-
spite great human suffering. A more overt use of Catholic piety for a specifically
political end came with John Brahm’s Miracle of Our Lady of Fatima (1952),
which portrayed the story of three Portuguese children who claimed to have ex-
perienced apparitions of the Virgin near the town of Fatima in 1917. One of the
messages delivered to the children concerned the conversion of Russia, and Brahm
used this connection to make the film a classic piece of Cold War propaganda in
which the innocent piety of the children did little more than provide a stark con-
trast to the soulless officials of Portugal’s socialist government.
The cinematic use of a Catholic devotion to symbolize the fight against Com-
munism was one sign of the maturation of the American Catholic community. The
activities of Senator Joseph McCarthy were strong evidence that capitalism and
Catholicism shared a common enemy, but many Americans were becoming more
conscious of the irony of combating Communism while denying free expression
at home. Changes in American cultural values and changes within the Catholic
Church, especially with the reforms of Second Vatican Council (also known as
“Vatican II,” 1962–1965), meant the decline of both the code and the legion dur-
ing the 1960s.
The repression of the McCarthy years had, of course, been keenly felt in the
film industry, and filmmakers, with the support of the courts, were increasingly
ignoring the restrictions of the code. At the same time, an expanded group of
reviewers for the official legion list began to disagree with Breen and some bish-
ops over film ratings and the proper scope of legion activity. In 1959, the legion
revised its pledge to remove the coercive language, and six years later it changed
its name to the less presumptuous National Catholic Office for Motion Pictures
(NCOMP). Combined with Breen’s departure from the PCA in 1954, Pius XII’s
more enlightened evaluation of film in the encyclical Miranda Prorsus in 1957,
and the adoption of an industrywide ratings system in 1966, the duties of NCOMP
 Catholicism | 113

were slowly but effectively reduced to providing a separate rating system for Cath-
olics. The task of providing public pressure against objectionable films fell to the
Catholic League, a new organization (founded 1973), although the activities of
this antidefamation group were not restricted to film. In 1980, the U.S. Catholic
Conference Office for Film and Broadcasting, later renamed the Catholic Com-
munication Campaign, assumed responsibility for ratings.
Released from both the constraints of the code and the threat of Catholic boy-
cotts, filmmakers could now move beyond the sentimental depictions of Catholi-
cism in favor of more realistic or even satirical portraits. Francis Ford Coppola’s
Godfather trilogy was perhaps the most significant example that a fundamental
change had occurred. The story of the rise of the Corleone family from immigrant
poverty to immense wealth as leaders of a crime syndicate forms the basic story
line, but the ethnic rags-to-riches story is played out against a backdrop of Catho-
lic symbolism that has led some critics to argue that the films are anti-Catholic in
their effect if not their intent. From the opening scene of The Godfather, in which
daughter Connie’s marriage provides the occasion for her father Vito to conduct
the “family business,” to the ending in which her brother Michael has rival dons
murdered even while he becomes the godfather of Connie’s child, Catholic sac-
raments and devotional rituals always signal the hypocrisy and violence of the
Corleones. This thematic use of ritual continued in The Godfather, Part II (1974),
which, as a prequel and a sequel, told the story of how Vito Corleone became the
patriarch of the crime family interspersed with the story of Michael’s continued
rise to power. A street festival to San Rocco serves as the backdrop to Vito’s first
murder; an attempted assassination of Michael follows the celebration of his son’s
first communion; and when Michael has his brother Fredo killed—because his be-
trayal made possible the assassination attempt—Fredo is reciting the “Hail Mary”
(as a talisman for catching fish, not for religious reasons). The Godfather, Part III
(1990) opens with Michael receiving a papal honor and then being admonished by
his ex-wife for having his true vocation disguised behind the church. In fact, Mi-
chael is attempting to legitimate his business with the aid of corrupt Vatican offi-
cials, who operate Vatican economic interests in the same manner as Michael does
his crime syndicate. Again, violence is masked by the veneer of religion—one of
Michael’s enemies is killed by a henchman participating in a Marian festival, and
Michael’s would-be assassin disguises himself as a priest. However, through the
character of Cardinal Lamberto, Michael is finally brought to confession if not
redemption. Following his election as Pope John Paul I, Lamberto is poisoned
before he can end the corruption of the banking system—a cinematic fiction that
nevertheless reflected the rumors that accompanied the sudden death of the real
John Paul I in 1978.
The reforms of Vatican II made the older Latin ritualism of the church seem
more exotic, and although the central sacrament of the church—the Eucharist—was
114 | Catholicism

still rarely depicted, the gothic mysteries were placed in the service of the horror
genre in films such as The Exorcist (1973). The exorcism itself, performed by
the title character Father Lankester Merrin, emphasizes the ritual aspects of the
process, from the purposeful vesting of the priests to the precise Latin incanta-
tions. Despite its graphic violence and obscenities, the film depicts Catholicism
as the only antidote to moral evil, which neither science nor modern medicine can
even comprehend, much less confront effectively. Subsequent films in this genre,
such as The Omen (1976) or The Amityville Horror (1979), present Catholicism as
equally ineffective (or even as the incubator for the rise of apocalyptic evil).
Still, intentionally anti-Catholic themes were rare before the mid-1980s. Agnes
of God (1985) revisited nativist fears about convent harems and murdered infants,
but with the twist that the pregnancy of a young cloistered novice—and the appar-
ent murder of her child—might be miraculous rather than malicious. The film cen-
ters around Dr. Martha Livingston, a psychiatrist summoned to examine Sr. Agnes,
whose infantile manner may be nothing more than insanity or, at the very least, a
psychological strategy for managing a repressed memory. Livingston’s attempts to
locate a rational explanation for whatever may have transpired are countered by
the mother superior, who refuses to dismiss the possibility of a miraculous (and
virginal) conception. The themes are as old as Maria Monk’s Awful Disclosures
(1836), perhaps the most infamous example of anti-Catholic literature ever pro-
duced, but unlike Monk’s sordid pseudopornography, the film never devolves into
anti-Catholic polemic. Although the exact nature of the pregnancy and infanticide
are never successfully explained, there is nothing to suggest that Sister Agnes’s
sexual “repression” under convent rules is to blame.
Such ambiguity is utterly lacking, however, in Stigmata (1999), which pre-
sented a litany of virtually every anti-Catholic theme ever conceived: bureaucratic
corruption, institutional secrecy in support of power, vaguely superstitious de-
votions, and ritualized violence. Stigmata is a confused film about the bizarre
possession of a “worldly” young woman by a dead priest, brought about by her ac-
cidental ownership of the priest’s stolen rosary and manifested by her receiving the
stigmata. The possession—which seems more demonic than divine—represents a
posthumous attempt by the priest to inform the world of the existence of a sup-
pressed gospel that would undermine the power of the Roman Catholic Church,
since the document promotes simple individual faith rather than institutionalized
religion. The identification of this gospel with the well-known Gospel of Thomas
and the sinister epigraph that “[t]he Vatican refuses to recognize this gospel and
has described it as heresy” concludes the film on a ludicrous note.
Although the Catholic League focused its attention on films such as Stigmata
and the curious religious satire Dogma (1999), not all recent films have adopted
such strong anti-Catholic themes. In The Third Miracle (1999), a priest pursues
 Censorship in Hollywood | 115

miraculous claims and possible sanctity, but the film focuses on questions of
faith—at times, in spite of the purported miracles—rather than institutional cor-
ruption. Romero (1989) tells the story of El Salvador’s martyred Archbishop Oscar
Romero, but the attempt to dramatize the early life of Catholic activist Dorothy
Day in Entertaining Angels (1996) was much less successful. Finally, The Mis-
sion (1986) and Black Robe (1991), both outstanding productions, use the contact
between Catholic missionaries and Native Americans to raise contemporary issues
of cultural tolerance and violence. Such films demonstrate the inadvertent poverty
that the restrictions of the code created as well as the richness that remains to be
explored.
Rodger M. Payne
See also: Capra, Frank; Censorship in Hollywood; Clergy; Coppola, Francis
Ford; DeMille, Cecil B.; Horror; Joan of Arc; Scorsese, Martin; Smith, Kevin.

Further Reading
Blake, Richard A. Afterimage: The Indelible Catholic Imagination of Six American Film-
makers. Chicago: Loyola Press, 2000.
Keyser, Lester, and Barbara Keyser. Hollywood and the Catholic Church: The Image of
Roman Catholicism in American Movies. Chicago: Loyola University Press, 1984.
Malone, Peter, ed. Through a Catholic Lens: Religious Perspectives of Nineteen Film
Directors from Around the World. Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield, 2007.
Mazur, Eric Michael. “Going My Way? Crosby and Catholicism on the Road to America.”
In Going My Way: Bing Crosby and American Culture, edited by Walter Raubicheck
and Ruth Prigozy, 17–33. Rochester, NY: University of Rochester Press, 2007.
McDannell, Colleen, ed. Catholics in the Movies. New York: Oxford University Press,
2007.
Ortiz, Gaye. “The Catholic Church and Its Attitude to Film as an Arbiter of Cultural Mean-
ing.” In Mediating Religion: Conversations in Media, Religion, and Culture, edited by
Jolyon Mitchell and Sophia Marriage, 179–188. London: Continuum, 2003.
Shafer, Ingrid. “Introduction: The Catholic Imagination in Popular Film and Television.”
Journal of Popular Film and Television 19, no. 2 (1991): 50–57.

Censorship in Hollywood

The rise and fall of the Hollywood Production Code and the film censorship appa-
ratus that enforced it (best known as the Hays Office and the Legion of Decency)
is a fascinating case study for exploring the relations among religious reformers,
116 | Censorship in Hollywood

media corporations, and ordinary consumers of mainstream popular culture.

Moreover, it is highly significant, since the code was among the major factors
that set the ground rules for the content of commercially available films during
the era when film and radio were the nation’s leading media. Although the code’s
enforcement power faded in the 1960s, it helped establish precedents that continue
to influence filmic treatments of religion, morality, and society to this day.
Before midcentury, Hollywood’s power was centralized in a handful of stu-
dios that monopolized the production and distribution of films. Thus Will Hays,
the head of the studios’ unified trade organization (the Motion Picture Producers
and Distributors of America, or MPPDA), could enforce standards for films. Reg-
ulation by what became known as the Production Code Administration (or Hays
Office—that is, the censorship bureaucracy of the MPPDA) evolved in stages,
largely because the industry did not want to fight a patchwork of inconsistent state
and local censorship boards that had emerged after 1907. (One scholar estimates
that by 1926 more than 100 cities and nearly a dozen states had censorship boards.)
Hollywood either desired no censorship at all—which was not in the cards after
the 1915 Supreme Court ruling in Mutual Film Commission v. Ohio—or it wanted
a centralized form of censorship that fit its business needs. These desires forced it
into negotiation with religious reformers.
Censorship boards that were built on a long-standing tradition in which clergy
and associated moral watchdogs sought to safeguard public morals from corrup-
tion by forms of art and entertainment that were deemed undesirable. Reform-
ers worked both by shaping public opinion and imposing laws. Their best-known
cause was the prohibition of alcohol, but they also promoted others, such as the
Sunday closing laws and the 1873 Comstock Act (criminalizing the circulation of
“obscene” writing—including information about birth control).
Such watchdogs became especially worried about film because early movie
houses (nickelodeons) were built upon the “low” entertainment of vaudeville and
were typically located in working-class neighborhoods. By the 1920s, the film
industry was upgrading its image by building opulent theaters and pressuring au-
diences to behave as if they were attending church or the opera. However, watch-
dogs also worried about films’ corrupting effects on youth, about what young
lovers did in dark theaters, and how immigrants who built the film industry—
who were largely Jewish—were using films to address social issues that disturbed
elites (such as labor struggles and changing gender roles). At the beginning, many
people felt that cinema might serve the public good, like journalism or nonfic-
tion writing, rather than serving as “mere entertainment.” If such a model had
been more successful, filmmakers might have been bolder in addressing contro-
versial issues through films, and notions related to the constitutional protection
of free speech might have limited the scope of censorship. However, films were
 Censorship in Hollywood | 117

increasingly understood as commercial products to be regulated in the public in-

terest and subject to stronger censorship than journalism or the theater. One of
the key cases that established this precedent concerned Jack Johnson, an African
American prizefighter who scandalized whites not only by knocking out white
challengers but also sleeping with white women. Films of his victories in the ring
were deemed inappropriate for screening by no less an authority than the U.S.
Congress (the Sims Act of 1912).
Given that regulation seemed inevitable, Hollywood sought a single national
standard; dealing with dozens of censorship boards was a nightmare for its pro-
duction and distribution system. Moreover, producers did not want a rating system
that would restrict their audiences. They wanted the power to regulate their own
films, either in-house or working with a relatively weak censorship board of their
choice. Thus Hays developed internal industry guidelines called the “Don’ts and
Be Carefuls” and worked with a National Board of Review (earlier the National
Board of Censorship, and before that the New York Board of Censorship) drawn
largely from Protestant social gospel networks. When this arrangement unraveled,
a similar Catholic group called the International Federation of Catholic Alumnae
(IFCA) took up the slack. Board members (including top leaders of the Federal
Council of Churches) were paid, raising questions about the reviewers’ indepen-
dence. Christian reformers assumed, as a matter of course, that they deserved
input into Hollywood policies, but Hays concluded that pursuing good relations
with religious organizations was a wise business expense for the public relations
and advertising wings of the industry he led.
During the early 1930s filmmakers experimented with more controversial
themes and bolder social criticism—notably in gangster films like Public Enemy
(1931) and screen adaptations of antiwar books like Ernest Hemingway’s A Fare-
well to Arms (1929). They pushed the envelope with risqué sexual plots featur-
ing strong independent women, such as She Done Him Wrong (1933) and Blonde
Venus (1932). Such trends led a group of Catholic reformers—Martin Quigley
of the Motion Picture Herald, Father Daniel Lord and Father Wilfred Parsons of
the Catholic journals Queens Work and America (respectively), Father FitzGeorge
Dinneen and Cardinal George Mundelein of Chicago, Bishop John Cantwell of
Los Angeles, and journalist Joseph Breen—to press for tougher censorship. Their
efforts led in 1933 to the Legion of Decency, which operated under the umbrella
of the National Catholic Welfare Conference.
The legion’s power reached into parishes throughout the country. Priests pub-
licized its lists of approved (“A”) and condemned (“C”) films, plus a midlevel
“B” category. Up to 9 million of the 20 million Catholic laypeople throughout
the country took solemn oaths in which they promised to boycott condemned
films—oaths suggesting that watching condemned films was a mortal sin. Local
118 | Censorship in Hollywood

Will Hays (left) and Joseph Breen, 1941. AP Photo.

applications of this model varied. For example, the legion in Cleveland held a mass
stadium rally, whereas the cardinal of Philadelphia simply ordered all Catholics
in his city to stop attending theaters entirely. At first, there were several compet-
ing censorship lists that sometimes disagreed, until the IFCA women emerged as
the main legion reviewers. For the first time, Hollywood faced a credible threat of
large-scale boycotts of its films. Pressure from the legion was enhanced by negative
publicity from a well-publicized set of books called the Payne Fund Studies, which
sought to document the negative effects of movies on youth, as well as by lobbying
from financiers who were associates of Bishop Cantwell and Cardinal Mundelein.
In response to this pressure, Hays agreed to put teeth into censorship guide-
lines, which filmmakers had earlier found relatively easy to evade through an
appeals process controlled by the producers. In 1934, the classic version of the
Hollywood Production Code emerged. More precisely, the Hays Office now began
seriously enforcing the 1930 code. That code forbade all negative portrayals of re-
ligion, law, and U.S. public authorities—as well as any portrayal of birth control,
miscegenation, homosexuality, divorce, revenge, sex outside marriage, and lust-
ful kissing. It also proclaimed Hollywood’s positive responsibility to teach public
morality. Every film was required not only to portray unambiguous lines between
good and evil but also to ensure that good was rewarded and evil punished.
Breen joined Hays’s payroll to administer this policy, and nothing could be
produced without his seal of approval. Thus a dual apparatus emerged—the Hays
 Censorship in Hollywood | 119

Office as the internal police for the film industry and the Legion of Decency po-
licing the Hays Office. Together they mediated between people who desired less
censorship (notably producers, who continually pushed the envelope) and more
conservative church people. Thickening this plot was the fact that many film-
makers were Jewish, while key players among the moral watchdogs were anti-
Semitic—including Breen. To say the least, this was not a case of seamless and
fully harmonious cooperation between religious reformers and film producers.
Nevertheless these contentious groups forged a compromise that put conservative
Catholic values at the heart of U.S. popular entertainment—not solely in the role
of policing films that transgressed Catholic sensibilities but near the center of in-
stitutional decision making and at the roots of Hollywood’s stated mission.
During the production process, scripts bounced back and forth between the
Hays Office and the producers. If the producers accepted Breen’s demands, the
Legion of Decency usually followed with an “A” or “B” rating. However, some-
times the legion still condemned the resulting film, requiring more negotiation.
The case of The Outlaw (1943) dragged on for six years as Howard Hughes, its
maverick producer, flouted condemnations by both Breen and the legion by releas-
ing the film outside of industry channels and centering his advertising campaign
on the star’s breasts. Eventually the producers cut enough from the film’s rape
scenes and sexual dialogue for the legion to lift its condemnation. By the time the
final version was approved, some censors had viewed it 20 times.
To avoid censorship, film projects were sometimes altered in striking ways.
By the time the censors finished with Black Fury (1935), it no longer portrayed a
strike pitting a coal miners’ union against greedy owners and their hired thugs. In-
stead, a well-treated miner who resented his corrupt labor bosses foiled the plans of
outside thugs—thugs whose violence was contrary to the wishes of the concerned
mine owners. Censors did not permit a Catholic missionary priest in The Keys of
the Kingdom (1944) to suggest that non-Catholic believers could go to heaven. He
was only allowed to show a Christ-like tolerance for other religions—in this case
only Methodists, although there was a subtext of dialogue with Chinese religions
because of the film’s setting—even though he knew they were wrong. These were
films that made it to the stage of negotiation; many projects were ruled out from
the beginning.
Of course many films managed to glamorize sex, question authority, and glo-
rify violence despite censorship. One scriptwriter, after being briefed about the
behavior required of heroes, simply produced plots without heroes. Often Breen
and the legion could only ensure that compelling gangsters and renegades received
pro forma punishments in the final reel, or that plots based on glamorizing sex-
ual transgression ended in marriage or death. In biblical epics, earnest Christian
heroes appeared against a background of Roman debauchery, which looked like
120 | Censorship in Hollywood

much more fun. Censors struggled with filmmakers over the ending of the western
Duel in the Sun (1946), which earned the nickname “Lust in the Dust.” Everyone
agreed that its lovers must die, but would their sins be adequately punished if they
died in each other’s arms, or must the film kill them before they reached each
other’s arms? The steamiest parts were cut and the opening scene encouraged
viewers to watch for the film’s supposed moral: that a “grim fate lay waiting for
the transgressor of the laws of God and man.” Adding insult to injury from the cen-
sors’ perspective, the film’s lovers had recently been cast as a priest in The Keys of
the Kingdom and a nun in Song of Bernadette (1943).
Despite ongoing efforts by producers to stretch the boundaries of what could
be screened under the code, much of Hollywood’s creative effort flowed comfort-
ably within the channels created by its ground rules and underlying philosophy.
No doubt Hollywood would have produced many films with strong moral/religious
themes with or without the code. Nevertheless the code strongly reinforced this
tendency. Dozens of films portrayed biblical characters, virtuous priests and nuns,
and heroes of faith like Joan of Arc. Such a list expands dramatically if one adds
films with overtly Christian heroes—several versions of Harriet Beecher Stowe’s
Uncle Tom’s Cabin (1852), hundreds of films featuring soldiers with God on their
side, and so on. If films championing values that are central to one religion or
another—sacrifice, faith, courage, mother love, and so on—are included, the list
of proreligion films expands indefinitely. Indeed, the code’s goal was to make
every film religious—or at least not antireligious—in this latter sense.
This censorship system continued well past World War II but unraveled in
the 1960s. One factor in its decline was the rise of television, which weakened
the commanding position of Hollywood. Another was the Supreme Court ruling
in Joseph Burstyn, Inc. v. Wilson, the 1952 decision involving Il Miracolo (The
Miracle, 1948), which strengthened First Amendment protections for films, thus
opening space for competition from foreign films that could be produced and mar-
keted outside industry constraints. Hays retired in 1945 (replaced by Eric John-
ston and later Jack Valenti) and the MPPDA was renamed the Motion Picture
Association of America. Breen retired in 1954, and the code was liberalized in
1956. Priests influenced by the liberalizing spirit of the Second Vatican Coun-
cil took over the reins of the legion; its reviewers increasingly disagreed among
themselves and experimented with new rating categories for adults. Thus both
loopholes in enforcement and gray areas in decisions about ratings increased, with
ample opportunities for disagreement and negotiation among Hollywood produc-
ers, foreign filmmakers, the code, the legion, and the viewing public. Mainly the
system collapsed under its own weight, as the former Hays Office (more often
called the Production Code Administration, or PCA, after Hays’s retirement) ap-
proved trivial trash that was an affront to the spirit of the code (such as Kiss Me,
 Censorship in Hollywood | 121

Stupid, 1964), while acclaimed films tackling social problems, such as Ladri di
biciclette (The Bicycle Thief, 1948) and The Pawnbroker (1964) were condemned
for trivial reasons. In 1966 the system was scrapped for a version of the current rat-
ing system; this happened at the same time that the Hollywood studio system gave
way to a decentralized distribution network and a production system more open
to independent producers. After 1965, the legion continued to rate films under a
new name (the National Catholic Office for Motion Pictures, or NCOMP), but it
declined in influence and finally folded in 1980.
For better and for worse, the code’s demise helped to open the way for a
wider range of ideas about good, evil, and religion to be widely screened. It also
opened more space for sex, violence, and films that questioned authority in vari-
ous ways—although, of course, not all films moved into this space. Some people
interpret this story as a decline of religion and a victory for secularization in U.S.
culture, and commentators have had no difficulty selecting, from among the many
films produced in any given decade, examples that fit a narrative of decline toward
secularism. Armed with such selections, some present-day religious conservatives
carry forward an ideal of censorship, albeit with limited power to enforce their
recommendations. They often complain that Hollywood is hostile to religion and
look back nostalgically to an era when religious characters in Hollywood films
were unambiguous good guys who almost always succeeded.
Although a narrative of moral decline might make sense of selected devel-
opments in Hollywood, overall it is better to stress the ongoing diversity in the
ways that films have interacted with religion throughout the past century. In every
decade some films have challenged conservative religious values and others have
reinforced them; for example, both Duel in the Sun and Song of Bernadette in
the 1940s, and both Kinsey and The Passion of the Christ in 2004. Importantly, the
code was a mixed blessing for the portrayal of religion in the long run. It is not
always clear whether it is a bad thing for “religion” that Hollywood has gained
greater scope to screen complex representations of right and wrong and to experi-
ment with representations of religion that are not necessarily flattering and heroic;
this is a question that must be explored case by case. Moreover, the legacy of
censorship helps to explain a backlash against religion by many filmmakers since
the 1960s, the tendency of some filmmakers to be uninterested in religion, and a
gap between Hollywood’s sophisticated conventions for evoking ideas about ro-
mance compared with its underdeveloped traditions for conveying spirituality. The
flat-footed and sanctimonious behavior typically demanded of religious characters
under the code still haunts the screening of religion, so that films such as The
Apostle (1997) and Little Buddha (1993), which portray complex religious charac-
ters, remain less influential than satires like Life of Brian (1979). Films commonly
portray clergy and social reformers as repressed and humorless killjoys—a trend
122 | Censorship in Hollywood

that no doubt has multiple causes, but is influenced in part by Hollywood’s experi-
ence with religious censors under the code. Films that paint a picture of ordinary
U.S. citizens often spend far more time representing schools, workplaces, and
nightclubs than they do filming churches, even though in real life churches are
equally important. Once again this trend results from multiple factors, but Hol-
lywood’s long history of trying to avoid conflict with religious pressure groups is
surely one of them.
At the same time, considerable momentum remains from Hollywood’s tradi-
tion (formerly its official policy, set down in the code) of dramatizing clear and
unambiguous lines between good and evil, ensuring the triumph of the good, and
presupposing that religion is basically on the side of the good. This momentum is
easy to see if we focus on underlying themes that many films take for granted. Star
Wars (1977) and its invocation of “the Force” is a classic example, but we might
also note the complexities of a film that conservatives loved to hate, Leap of Faith
(1992). Although this film lampoons a corrupt faith healer, it judges him against
standards of Christian virtue and true faith healing that are the film’s core pre-
suppositions. Although it encourages skepticism about televangelists, it presup-
poses that sincere religion is a positive thing, echoes arguments from the Bible’s
prophetic tradition, and redeems most of its characters. This is just one example
among many postcode films that ruffle the feathers of current conservatives and
incorporate themes that would have been censored under the code but that con-
tinue to pursue narrative closure in ways that are largely in continuity with the
code’s underlying rationale.
All this suggests that the rise and fall of religious censorship in Hollywood is
best understood less as a story of religious tradition being defeated by processes
of secularization and more as a case study of ongoing conflict and negotiation
between diverse groups of people, all of whom sought to use films to promote
their values, with results that must be explored case by case. Whatever the impact
of censorship on particular cases, it was a major factor shaping Hollywood for
several decades, with a legacy that continues to echo into the present.
Mark Hulsether
See also: Catholicism; Clergy; Judaism; The Miracle Controversy; Protestantism.

Further Reading
Black, Gregory D. Hollywood Censored: Morality Codes, Catholics, and the Movies. New
York: Cambridge University Press, 1994.
Couvares, Francis G. “Hollywood, Main Street, and the Church: Trying to Censor Movies
before the Production Code.” American Quarterly 44, no. 4 (1992): 584–616.
 China | 123

Grieveson, Lee. Policing Cinema: Movies and Censorship in Early-Twentieth-Century

America. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2004.
Skinner, James M. The Cross and the Cinema: The Legion of Decency and the National
Catholic Office for Motion Pictures, 1933–1970. Westport, CT: Praeger,1993.
Vaughn, Stephen. “Morality and Entertainment: The Origins of the Motion Picture Pro-
duction Code.” Journal of American History 77, no. 1 (1990): 39–65.
Walsh, Francis R. “The Callahans and the Murphys (MGM, 1927): A Case Study of Irish-
American and Catholic Church Censorship.” Historical Journal of Film, Radio, and
Television 10, no. 1 (1990): 33–45.
Walsh, Frank. Sin and Censorship: The Catholic Church and the Motion Picture Industry.
New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1996.

China

China’s religious landscape has been characterized by the interplay of sanjiao

(the “Three Teachings”): Confucianism, Daoism, and Buddhism. As in most Asian
countries, these seemingly contradictory religions have coexisted because the Chi-
nese generally do not perceive them as separate systems but as complementary
ones and because each operates within its own sphere: Confucianism structures
social interactions; Daoism helps one gain harmony with nature; and Buddhism
deals with death and the afterlife. Confucianism and Daoism—opposing yet com-
plementary philosophies—are indigenous to China, both dating to the 6th century
bce. During the Han Dynasty (206 bce to 220 ce), Confucianism became the state
orthodoxy. Since the Communists won control in 1949, China officially has been
an atheist country. However, not long after Chairman Mao Zedong died in 1976,
China began witnessing an upsurge in religious and quasi-religious activity, and
today Confucianism—which Mao denounced as being one of the “Four Olds”—is
experiencing a resurgence and is even being endorsed by the government. One
need only look at Chinese cinema (broadly understood) that has been produced
since the 1980s to find evidence of Confucianism, Daoism, Buddhism, and even
popular religion being used by directors as diverse as Zhang Yimou, Peter Chan,
Ronny Yu (born in Hong Kong), and Ang Lee (born in Taiwan).
Chinese filmmakers have had an ambivalent attitude toward Confucianism.
A number have attacked it by showing its patriarchal and repressive attitude.
After all, women were encouraged to be obedient: first to their fathers, then to
their husbands, and then to their grown sons. Zhang Yimou’s early films, such as
Hong gao liang (Red Sorghum, 1987), Ju Dou (1990), and Da hong deng long
gao gao gua (Raise the Red Lantern, 1991), illustrate the restricted and often
124 | China

miserable lives of young women. In the latter film, once Songlian’s father dies,
she has no choice but to leave the university and become the fourth wife of a
much older man. As soon as she moves in, she can feel the tension and resent-
ment that swirls in the custom-entrenched household. Because the master gives
preferential treatment to whichever wife he chooses for the night, scheming wor-
thy of Shakespeare ensues, and in the end the main character goes insane. Emo-
tionally unaffected by the death of his favorite servant and the murder of his third
wife, the master simply remarries. Raise the Red Lantern clearly demonstrates
the powerlessness of these wives and the sexual double standards that they are
forced to endure.
Jianxin Huang’s Wu kui (The Wooden Man’s Bride, 1994) is as condemnatory
of Confucian patriarchy in that it focuses on a young woman who, because of her
father’s debt, is promised to the son of a wealthy tofu maker. On the way to her
future home, her entourage is ambushed by bandits and she is taken captive. Kui,
a local farmer, gets her back and delivers her to the Liu family. Even though the
young master has died in an accident, the matriarch proceeds with the wedding
anyway, marrying the young woman to a wooden sculpture of her son. The young
widow is expected to honor her wooden “husband” and, as her mother-in-law has
done, preserve her chastity. Interestingly, all but Red Sorghum are set during the
1920s, an era of warlordism reminiscent of feudal China.
Confucianism is not always portrayed negatively. Even though China’s boom
has resulted in more economic prosperity, many are lamenting its side effects: the
breakdown of the family unit, the overemphasis of wealth, the devaluation of edu-
cation, and an overall loss of traditional values. In Wo de fu qin mu qin (The Road
Home, 1999), Zhang Yimou looks back with nostalgia to a time when scholars
were revered, elders were respected, and the rural community worked together
with purpose. In Xingfu shiguang (Happy Times, 2000), the director illustrates
China’s changing values by contrasting the treatment given to a blind woman by
her stepmother and by a group of retirees who barely know her. Whereas the older
generation exhibits true empathy and compassion for her, the stepmother sees her
merely as a financial impediment. Other similar “nostalgic” films include Yang
Zhang’s Xizao (Shower, 1999), which depicts the last days of a community bath-
house; and even Ang Lee’s Yin shi nan nu (Eat Drink Man Woman, 1994), which
focuses on the relationships between a senior chef and his three grown daughters.
In the former film, the eldest son who has left the family business to pursue a
career in the big city returns home to rediscover the meaning of family and the
importance of the community. The latter film is not only an elegy to the disappear-
ing art of Chinese cooking but also demonstrates how, because of an increasingly
fast-paced life in Taiwan, the Chinese are losing the connection between food and
family.
 China | 125

Confucian values also can be found in the wuxia pian, or “film of martial
chivalry.” In these films the heroic main character, a kind of knight errant, op-
erates by a code of honor that does not differ much from the one followed by
Confucius’s junzi (“gentleman scholar”). The two most notable ruling ideals are
those of righteousness (yi) and honor. In Ang Lee’s Wo Hu Cang Long (Crouch-
ing Tiger, Hidden Dragon, 2000), Master Li Mu Bai and Yu Shu Lien live within
a community ruled by decorum and moral principle. The conflict in the film oc-
curs between these characters—who are aware of and act in accordance with their
familial and social obligations—and Jade Fox and her young protégé Jen Yu, who
are impulsive, disrespectful, prideful, arrogant, and uncivilized. Yu Shu Lien em-
phasizes that warriors value rules, friendship, trust, and integrity. “Without rules,
we wouldn’t survive for very long,” she says. Although she is a great warrior
and successful businesswoman, she supports traditional Confucian attitudes about
women, saying that “the most important step in every woman’s life is to get mar-
ried.” By contrast, Jen Yu sees true happiness as being able to choose whom to love
and being free to pursue what one wants. As her mentor Jade Fox says, “We’ll be
our own masters. We’ll be happy. That’s all that matters.” Yu Shu Lien, too, de-
sires freedom and happiness, but not at the risk of dishonoring the memory of her
deceased husband.
(It may be simply a coincidence, but each of the main characters in the film has
one of the Confucian virtues in his or her name. Li means “ritual” or “propriety,”
jen is “humaneness,” and shu means “reciprocity.” Li’s friend—and soon-to-be
recipient of his sword—is Sir Te; in Daoism, te [or de] translates as “virtue.” And
the bandit who falls in love with Jen is Luo Xiao Hu; xiao represents “filial piety.”
The only main character without a Chinese name is Jade Fox, possibly because
she is the only character with no redeeming qualities within a Confucian or Daoist
framework.)
Ronny Yu’s Huo Yuan Jia (Fearless, 2006), may get its title from a quote by
Lao Tzu, the founder of Daoism—“Mastering others is strength. Mastering your-
self makes you fearless”—but it is essentially a Confucian film; in the character
of Huo Yuanjia it shows what a junzi is not. When he is a boy, his father tells him
to write out the sayings of Confucius, but Yuanjia does not see the merit in this,
so he coerces his friend Nong Jinsun to do it for him. Huo Yuanjia’s only passion
is wushu, and he dreams of being the master of all fighters. Because of this obses-
sive drive for fame, he neglects his daughter and familial obligations, foolishly
accepts unworthy students, almost bankrupts his friend, and even mercilessly kills
a rival. After spending several morally instructive years in the countryside, he
returns to his hometown a changed man. He has learned the importance of kind-
ness, compassion, and generosity. While at his parents’ and daughter’s graves, he
apologizes for his past unfilial actions and vows to make amends. In the end, he
126 | China

sacrifices himself for the benefit of the many. Zhang Yimou’s Ying xiong (Hero,
2002) is a recent wuxia pian that focuses on four assassins—Nameless, Broken
Sword, Flying Snow, and Sky—who conspire to kill the king of Qin, the historical
warlord who eventually united China. Rather than have Nameless kill this ruler,
the assassin lets him live for the greater good, saying “My decision will cause the
deaths of many and Your Majesty will live on. A dead man begs you to remember,
a warrior’s ultimate act is to lay down his sword.”
Interestingly, Crouching Tiger and Hero were box office successes in the
United States but failures in China. One scholar argued that the former was un-
popular with Chinese audiences because the characters did not act as would have
been expected, while the latter was criticized because Chinese audiences did
not like how Emperor Qin Shihuang’s dictatorial and tyrannical qualities were
downplayed.
Although it is a wuxia pian, Zhang Yimou’s Shi mian mai fu (House of Fly-
ing Daggers, 2004) extols more Daoist ideals than Confucian ones; one might
say that without the Daoist-inspired interval in Fearless, Huo Yuanjia would not
have undergone a transformation. If Confucianism is represented by active and
masculine principles, Daoism is represented by passive and feminine principles.
Whereas the former extols education and social responsibility, the latter focuses
on harmonizing the individual with nature. Based largely on the Dao De Jing—
philosophical musings credited to the elderly sage Lao Tzu—Daoism teaches that
the Dao, a universal, unnamable, omnipresent force, lies behind all things and
comprises the opposing yet complementary forces of yin and yang. For harmony
and peace to ensue, these forces must be in balance; for chaos, they must be out
of joint. As for human beings, when they are born, they are like uncarved blocks
of wood, capable of living in accordance with the Dao. The key to harmony is to
let nature take its course—to find the path of least resistance and practice wu wei
(actionless action). After the Han dynasty—as Daoism became more preoccupied
with alchemy, breath control, and immortality—biographies of spirit immortals
emerged. These types of stories undoubtedly had an influence on the wuxia genre,
which features heroes performing such superhuman feats as flying through the air
and walking on water.
As in Crouching Tiger and Hero, the main characters in House of Flying
Daggers—Jin, Leo, and Mei—adhere to a code of honor, particularly the latter
two, who are members of the Robin Hood–like band of rebels known as the Fly-
ing Daggers; they embody the Confucian ideals of bravery, self sacrifice, respect,
and loyalty. However, Zhang Yimou breaks with wuxia tradition by focusing more
on the characters’ emotions and Jin and Mei’s desire to leave behind their socially
restricted lives to be “free like the wind.” One of the main themes of the film is
to “go live life like the wind;” to be free and independent, a central teaching of
 China | 127

Daoism. In Flying Daggers, neither Jin nor Mei ever become “free like the wind,”
but at least they acknowledge that the way through their respective, socially re-
strictive situations is to simply “let go.”
In Fearless, after Huo Yuanjia learns that he has killed an innocent man, he
boards a boat and leaves his village. Near death, he is eventually rescued by a blind
woman named Moon and her grandmother who nurse him back to health. During
the several years that he spends with them, he internalizes all of the Confucian
values that he neglected to learn when he was younger: selflessness, kindness,
respect, and generosity. But his most important teacher is probably nature itself.
When he begins planting rice, he does not take his time to do it right but views it
as a competition to see who can finish the task first. Moon goes back to replant
the young shoots, remarking that “seedlings are alive. They can’t be planted too
close together. Too close, they cannot grow properly, like people. We have to learn
to respect each other. We can all live in harmony this way.” Huo Yuanjia responds
that he will remember this. Furthermore, while the men are planting, they take a
minute to pause and feel the wind on their faces. At first Yuanjia is perplexed by
this and continues working. As time goes on, he too follows this action. What he
learns coincides with the teachings of the Dao De Jing. In essence, in this small
village, Yuanjia learns to live in accordance to the Dao, and he does this by allow-
ing things to happen naturally rather than forcing them. He lives close to nature,
learning from it.
After the second century CE, some Daoists became increasingly preoccupied
with longevity, and they sought ways to extend their lives through physical ex-
ercises, sexual techniques, and ingesting special diets and elixirs. Some of these
“experiments” developed into today’s Chinese medical practices, which include
acupuncture (the use of needles to stimulate the body’s vital energy), herbal reme-
dies, T’ai Chi Chuan, and chi gong. Some martial arts films have exploited some of
the “oddities” of longevity Daoism. For example, in Tsui Hark’s Wong Fei Hung II:
Naam yi dong ji keung (Once Upon a Time in China II, 1992), Huang Feihong
squares off against followers of the White Lotus Sect, who, because of secret prac-
tices, can walk through fire without being burned and be shot at without being pen-
etrated by the bullets. Early on in the film, Feihong even delivers a brief explanation
and demonstration of acupuncture. The superiority of Chinese medicine provides
the backdrop for the “Going Home” sequence in Saam gaang (Three Extremes II,
2002). Directed by Peter Chan, this horror story is about a Chinese couple who
successfully use traditional herbs to bring the dead back to life. In the “Dumplings”
sequence in Saam gaang yi (Three Extremes, 2004), an aging actress discovers the
fountain of youth and sexual vitality in a “secret” dumpling recipe. Finally, in Eat
Drink Man Woman, the middle daughter explains that according to ancient Chinese
philosophy, food was balanced according to its energy, flavor, and nature.
128 | Clergy

As one can see, Chinese filmmakers, working in genres ranging from histori-
cal drama to horror, have mined Confucianism and Daoism for different reasons.
Some have exploited the fringe elements of Daoism for dramatic and horrific ef-
fect, while others, such as Zhang Yimou, have been both critical and laudatory of
Confucianism.
Julien R. Fielding
See also: Buddhism; Japan.

Further Reading
Berry, Chris, ed. Chinese Films in Focus: 25 New Takes. London: British Film Institute,
2003.
Bliss, Michael. Between the Bullets: The Spiritual Cinema of John Woo. Lanham, MD:
Scarecrow Press, 2002.
Cho, Francisca. “Imagining Nothing and Imagining Otherness in Buddhist Film.” In
Imag(in)ing the Other: Filmic Visions of Community, edited by S. Brent Plate and
David Jasper, 169–196. Atlanta: American Academy of Religion, 1999.
Chow, Rey. Sentimental Fabulations, Contemporary Chinese Films: Attachment in the Age
of Global Visibility. New York: Columbia University Press, 2007.
Dilley, Whitney Crothers. The Cinema of Ang Lee: The Other Side of the Screen. London:
Wallflower Press, 2007.

Clergy

If religious art reflects religious life, a cynic might expect a cornucopia of wretched
and wicked clerical characters to inhabit film narratives. Surprisingly, representa-
tions of (mostly Christian) clergy are mixed and include everything from the most
pious to the most deplorable of human behaviors.
During the Progressive Era, representations of clergy ranged from the Vic-
torian Anglican to the evangelical preacher; the stoic nobility of these characters
illustrates the respect they commanded in the early years of film. The New York
Hat (1912) satirizes church busybodies who unfairly judge a young minister’s
seemingly inappropriate relationship with a young lady. In The Confession (1920),
a priest tries to convince a murderer to confess so that an innocent man will not
be executed. Simultaneous subterranean currents reveal less salutary portrayals;
Hell’s Hinges (1916) follows a seminary graduate succumbing to the temptations
of the flesh, while both Hypocrites (1915) and Souls for Sale (1922) cast minis-
ters as weak and virtually spiritually impotent. Nevertheless, silent films generally
 Clergy | 129

respect ministers. One of the last films of the era, The Gaucho (1928), idealizes a
priest of the poor enduring persecution for his fidelity to the Gospel.
In the 1930s and 1940s (sometimes called the “golden age of Hollywood”), the
guidelines of the Motion Picture Production Code guaranteed a particular, if unre-
alistic, image of clergy, and the studios followed them by mostly ignoring clergy.
Many cinematic ministers officiated at weddings or became jolly sidekicks, like
Friar Tuck in The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938). Frank Capra challenged this
blandness with an attractive, vengeful, and inspired Sister Fallon in The Miracle
Woman (1931), a loosely veiled story of evangelist Aimee Semple MacPherson.
And while most ministers were presented more mildly, the most memorable dur-
ing this period were Catholic priests—tough, smart, hip, and energetic: Father
Mullin, the moral conscience in San Francisco (1936) who teaches a saloon owner
how to pray; the quintessentially ideal Father Flanagan in Boys Town (1938); the
confident, cheerful cleric Father Jerry Connolly in Angels with Dirty Faces (1938);
or the charming and affectionate model priest Father O’Malley, who takes over the
parish from an irascible but lovable curmudgeon in Going My Way (1944).
By the beginning of World War II, clergy appeared in unabashedly patriotic
roles. In The Fighting 69th (1940), an Irish priest turns a cowardly braggart into a
redemptive soldier, while in Sergeant York (1941) the enthusiastic hillbilly evan-
gelical pastor is tough, good-humored, old-fashioned, and straight-talking. During
the war, clergy traveled to other countries, bringing the gospel and democracy, as
in The Keys of the Kingdom (1944), with Father Chisholm desperately trying to
re-establish a Catholic mission in China.
Postwar ministers were still situated in battle zones, if not specifically World
War II. Methodist Reverend Samuel Sayer ministers in a World War I–era African
mission in The African Queen (1951); The Quiet Man (1952) travels to Ireland to
introduce two mutually affectionate clerics, Catholic Father Lonergan and Angli-
can Reverend Cyril Playfair; Battle Hymn (1957) chronicles the true life of clergy-
man Dean Hess, who rescued orphans in Korea.
Harbingers of an emerging recognition of human frailty in clergy appear with
several shadowy figures, such as the whiskey priest in The Fugitive (1947)—a
gentle retelling of Graham Greene’s 1940 novel The Power and the Glory—
prefiguring the spiritual grit and integrity of Roman Catholic priests like Father
Barry, the tough populist priest who works the docks with prophetic toughness in
On the Waterfront (1954), or the sinister “Love”/“Hate” tattoo-knuckled Preacher
Harry Powell in Night of the Hunter (1955).
Found in most decades—but particularly in the golden age—are films that
celebrate the life and sacrifice of historical saints or showcase the noble lives of
actual clergy, both Roman Catholic and Protestant, such as the classic La Passion
de Jeanne d’Arc (The Passion of Joan of Arc, 1928) and The Song of Bernadette
130 | Clergy

(1943), which explores the visions and miracles experienced by Bernadette at

Lourdes in 1858. Historical recreations borrow liberally from both primary ac-
counts and Hollywood scriptwriters, as in Stanley and Livingstone (1939), which
details the quest of the missionary to find the renowned Dr. Livingstone. One Foot
in Heaven (1941) relates the experiences of itinerant Methodist minister William
Hartzell Spence and his family, while I’d Climb the Highest Mountain (1951) tells
the story of Methodist minister William Asbury Thompson helping the poor. Inn
of Sixth Happiness (1958) chronicles the life of Gladys Aylward, a missionary to
China; and A Man Called Peter (1955) celebrates the ministry of Peter Marshall,
chaplain of the U.S. Senate.
The Cold War years highlighted both bland and quirky clerics, with a resur-
gence of Catholic priests: Episcopal Bishop Henry Brougham in the postwar film
The Bishop’s Wife (1947; remade as The Preacher’s Wife [1996]); the saintly par-
ish priest in The Miracle of the Bells (1948); Father Brown (1954), a merry monk
and detective who solves crimes by understanding the human heart rather than
deductive logic; Reverend Macklin, a two-fisted frontier preacher in The Twin-
kle in God’s Eye (1955); Father Conroy, the priest to Broadway in Say One for Me
(1959); and Reverend John Smallwood, a cleric who does not fit in with the elite
parish to which he is sent in the classic satire Heavens Above (1963).
The 1950s and early 1960s saw a number of films in which clergy are pre-
sented in a less than flattering light, challenging the requirements of the Production
Code. In The Left Hand of God (1955), the fraudulent Father O’Shea eventually
redeems himself by pretending to be a clergyman, a motif dating back to The Pil-
grim (1923). Elmer Gantry (1960), based on Sinclair Lewis’s 1927 novel about
a flamboyant 1920s huckster evangelist on the Midwest revival meeting circuit,
evoked a particularly strong reaction; Angel Baby (1961; remade as Leap of Faith
[1992]) portrayed a manipulative faith-healing preacher around whom a genuine
miracle occurs. Devil at 4 O’Clock (1961) continued the deconstruction of old
stereotypes with a hard-drinking and cussing priest, Father Matthew Doonan, who
sacrifices his life for a leper hospital.
The optimism of the Kennedy era also showcased an ecumenical and interna-
tional spirit. The Cardinal (1963), following the life of a young Rome-educated
American priest as it moves from the backwoods to high office, challenged rac-
ism, abortion, and the complicity of the church during the rise of Nazism; Lilies
in the Field (1963) examined interracial social work; and One Man’s Way (1964),
based on the ministry of Norman Vincent Peale, emphasizes “the power of positive
thinking.” Both Becket (1964) and A Man for All Seasons (1966) document the
tension between the British crown and the Roman Catholic Church, using clergy
as models for those who, during the Vietnam era, rejected arbitrary authority. This
is not to suggest that portrayals of flawed clergy did not continue. In Night of the
 Clergy | 131

Iguana (1964), for example, the Reverend T. Lawrence Shannon is presented as a

defrocked Episcopal clergyman leading cheap bus tours for gullible Baptist ladies.
But harkening back to The Bells of St. Mary’s (1945), the early 1960s also ushered
in lovely and lively nuns, with fresh, luminous faces adorning those who dedicated
themselves to serve God and others, in such films as The Sound of Music (1965),
Change of Habit (1969), and (on television) The Flying Nun (ABC, 1967–1970).
This era also saw several retrograde clergy dotting the cinematic landscape, with
such figures as Reverend Clayton Brooks, a minister leading his town to quit
smoking in the comedy Cold Turkey (1971).
The late 1960s and early 1970s would also usher in the unbelieving priest as
well as portrayals of the abdication or impotence of good clergy in the face of evil.
Seven Women (1966) emphasized the nobility and courage of an atheist doctor over
a missionary in 1930s China, while Hawaii (1966) excoriated the strict, zealous,
and self-righteous missionary Reverend Abner Hale. The bumbling and clueless
chaplain Father John Patrick Mulcahy in M*A*S*H (1970) is given the nickname
“Dago Red,” as a reference to the sacramental wine that is stolen from him.
The “traditional values” debates in the 1980s and 1990s, embodied by film
critic Michael Medved’s 1992 book Hollywood vs. America, revived the debate
over popular culture’s impact on traditional values. In contrast to sympathetic por-
trayals of religious figures from the golden age of Hollywood, much of that with
which Medved found fault evolved out of portrayals of “comic book clergy” of
the 1980s, from ambitious and seductive Father John Flaherty in The Monsignor
(1982) to the lighter-toned Mass Appeal (1984), with its indictment of church poli-
tics. And in Footloose (1984), a film with tremendous impact on popular culture,
Reverend Shaw Moore is transformed from a Bible-quoting fundamentalist stick
figure into a sympathetic father. A long line of severely damaged, alcoholic, inept,
and downright evil ministers also inhabit the last decades of the 20th century,
ranging from the sleazy cross-dressing peep-show voyeur and homicidal street
preacher in Crimes of Passion (1984) and the Pentecostal cult leader in Children
of the Corn (1984) to the ghostly cult leader in Poltergeist II (1986).
In the troubled era of television evangelist scandals, several films mocked
their money-grubbing hypocrisy, such as Heaven Help Us (1985), a coming-of-
age comedy complete with repressive monks; Pass the Ammo (1988), with the
corrupt Reverend Ray Porter; and The Pope Must Die (1991), about a case of
mistaken identity. Even as caricatures, these ministers are vital reminders of the
potential moral downfall of even the best men and women.
However, a few memorable religious characters stand out in the 1980s, par-
ticularly in missionary films set in either a nostalgic or exotic past. The Academy
Award–winning Chariots of Fire (1981) recreates the historic Olympic Games of
1924 with true-life Scottish missionary Eric Liddell. The Mission (1986) recreates
132 | Clergy

the 18th-century Brazilian conflict between greedy Portuguese government author-

ities and Jesuit missionaries, while in Black Robe (1991), Jesuit Father Laforgue
explores his own faith on missionary journeys among the Huron and Iroquois.
As the new millennium approached, representations of the clergy were more
balanced, with both critical and affirming portrayals. A tender humanity is cap-
tured in A River Runs through It (1992), in which a Presbyterian minister and his
two sons connect in their shared avocation of fishing rather than in the father’s
religious vocation. In the wake of Roman Catholic sexual abuse scandals, Sleep-
ers (1996) follows abused boys from a Catholic parochial school who find a tough
friend in Father Bobby. In comedies, clergy have often served as fodder for gags
and are often portrayed as forgetful, generally benign, merrily incompetent, or
just superfluous. Four Weddings and a Funeral (1994) portrays Father Gerald, a
nervous cleric who prays in the name of the “holy goat”; cynical faith healer Jonas
Nightengale is a barnstorming fraud in Leap of Faith; Dogma (1999) satirizes the
Roman Catholic Church with the thumbs-up Cardinal Ignatius Glick. Capping
the trend, a vulgar monk communicates both pathos and comic timing in Nacho
Libre (2006).
Notable international films have indelibly sculpted the images of clergy into
more damaged characters, adding nuance with shades of doubt and ambiguity.
Danish director Carl Theodor Dreyer, for example, presented his clerics as mostly
oppressive (La Passion de Jeanne d’Arc), troubled (Vrendens dag [Day of Wrath,
1943]), or modernist skeptics who have lost faith in the miraculous (Ordet [The
Word, 1955]). Similarly, Swedish director Ingmar Bergman’s angst-ridden and
austere Lutheran pastors (Nattvardsgästerna [Winter Light, 1962]; Fanny och
Alexander [Fanny and Alexander, 1982]) betray waning of faith during the 1950s
and beyond. Robert Bresson’s classic country priest suffers like his Savoir, both
spiritually and physically, in Journal d’un curé de campange (Diary of a Country
Priest, 1951), and Spanish director Luis Buñuel satirizes the inability of clergy to
live up to their ideals in Nazarín (1959). Priests fare well in some war films, like
Roberto Rosselini’s neorealist classic Roma, citta aperta (Rome, Open City, 1945),
where the cleric is finally martyred. After the war, French filmmakers mostly ig-
nored clerics until La Religieuse (The Nun, 1966), in which a nun is driven to
suicide by the perversity of other clergy. In contrast to the oppressive nature of
the church, Louis Malle showcases the valor of a Roman Catholic priest in Au
revoir, les enfants (1987), with the cleric seeking to hide a Jewish boy in Vichy,
France, during World War II.
More recent international representations have maintained many of these cri-
tiques. The righteousness and bliss of the Lutheran patriarch overshadows the nar-
rative in Babettes gaestebud (Babette’s Feast, 1987), while the petty village priest
in Nuovo cinema Paradiso (Cinema Paradiso, 1988) labors as the village censor,
 Clergy | 133

cutting kissing out of American films lest his young charges be led astray. In the
French Canadian film Jésus de Montréal (Jesus of Montreal, 1989), Father Leclerc
serves merely as a stale institutional cipher in the presence of a real Christ. Choco-
lat (2000) exposes the prejudice and judgmental dogmatism of a priest’s religious
crusade against the earthly temptation of the confection and its sexual connota-
tions, continuing the stereotype of a clergy obsessed with sexual immorality. Fi-
nally, controversy boils over in the graphic presentation of a young priest having
an affair while serving a corrupt church hierarchy in El Crimen del Padre Amaro
(The Crime of Father Amaro, 2002).
Films portraying clergy have been made not only across the continents but
also across the various genres that have developed over the century. For example,
beginning in the silent era, a number of films were produced for predominantly
African American audiences. Race films not only inaugurated a tradition of black
filmmaking to counter Hollywood stereotypes but also included films that paral-
leled religious caricatures: the musical The Green Pastures (1936) portrays a rea-
sonable and inventive Sunday school teacher who gently explains Bible stories to
children. On the other hand, Hallelujah (1929), an early all-black “talking” drama,
presents an eloquent and passionate minister torn between gospel and jazz. Body
and Soul (1925) introduces the Right Reverend Isaiah T. Jenkins, a leering and ra-
pacious charlatan minister; in The Blood of Jesus (1941), a gaggle of sisters strug-
gle against the jazzy temptations of Satan; and in Go Down Death (1944), Sunday
saints battle Saturday sinners in a clash of good versus evil in which a bar owner
tries to blackmail a stalwart minister. Serious issues of race are addressed in Cry,
the Beloved Country (1952; remade in 1995), in which preacher Stephen Jumala
and Reverend Msimangy explore death, injustice, and grace in South Africa.
Black ministers have often fared much better than their White counterparts
and have been portrayed with interests in social justice, spiritual regeneration, and
concern for the downtrodden, even in a slapstick comedy like Big Mama’s House
(2000). On the other hand, even in the years immediately following the civil rights
era, in which preachers often stood at the vanguard of social justice, African
American clergy were often portrayed as comics, like the con man preacher in
Buck and the Preacher (1972), “The Preacher” in Uptown Saturday Night (1974),
and “Daddy Rich” in Car Wash (1976). The revival of upright black clergy would
occur in the new millennium, with Pastor Jones (2005), the hilarious Tyler Perry
Madea films—including Diary of a Mad Black Woman (2005) and Madea Goes
to Jail (2009)—and Atlanta preacher T. D. Jakes in his church’s production of
Woman, Thou Art Loosed! (2004).
Clergy of any sort rarely find a place in science fiction, usually because its
writers do not often expect religion to survive into the future. There are some no-
table exceptions, including white-collared Anglican priest in the original The War
134 | Clergy

of the Worlds (1953) and the denominationally ambiguous priest in The Fifth Ele-
ment (1997). On the other hand, because contemporary horror films are rooted in
a historical tradition of war between good and evil, clergy are desperately needed
in this genre, for their holy water and crucifixes if nothing else. For example, Sis-
ter Agnes is almost invisible in Rosemary’s Baby (1968), the young, angst-ridden
Father Damien Karras does not have the faith of the physically frail and elderly
Father Merrin in The Exorcist (1973), and none of the clergy in The Omen series
(The Omen [1976]; Damien: Omen II [1978]; The Final Conflict [1981]; Omen IV:
The Awakening [1991]) has any chance of stopping the onslaught of evil. The Ami-
tyville Horror (1979) places impotent clergy in a possessed house, and The Blob
(1988), locates a deranged and maniacal fundamentalist pastor who identifies the
toxic creature as a way to usher in the end of the world. Father Lancaster Merrin
and Vatican emissary Father Lucci try to help prevent the end of the world in The
Seventh Sign (1988); and in Stigmata (1999), Father Andrew Kiernan is sent by
the Vatican to investigate signs of the crucifixion on a young hairdresser. Clergy
also serve as sidekicks, like Friar Carl, who accompanies the vampire hunter in
Van Helsing (2004), and Father Hennessy, the drunken, inept collaborator of the
demon fighter in Constantine (2005). Sometimes, like Pastor Lowe in Silver Bullet
(1985), clergy are just werewolves.
Despite their dominance in American culture, not all portrayals of clergy have
been of Christians. A number of films have presented rabbis, though usually opt-
ing for traditional, Orthodox, or ultra-Orthodox rather than Conservative or Re-
form members of the clergy, in part because the latter are less easily identifiable to
filmgoing audiences. This was more important in silent films such as the German
thriller Der Golem (The Golem, 1920), in which a rabbi invokes Jewish mysticism
to animate a statue and save the Jews of the ghetto, and the first “talkie,” The Jazz
Singer (1927; remade in 1952 and 1980), in which a young American struggles
between his parents’ wish that he become a hazan (ritual chanter of Jewish liturgy)
and his own dream of going into show business. One notable exception is Keep-
ing the Faith (2000), in which a hip young Conservative rabbi struggles (barely)
over the implications of his attraction for a non-Jewish woman (who, in the end,
converts to avoid the matter entirely). Some films focusing entirely on the Jewish
world have, of necessity, included portrayals of rabbis, but like many of the cor-
responding films portraying priests and ministers, these films—like Fiddler on the
Roof (1971)—have located the rabbi in the background of the narrative. Others—
like The Chosen (1981), Yentl (1983), and A Stranger Among Us (1992)—have
centered on the world of rabbis and rabbinic students, while the western comedy
The Frisco Kid (1979) pairs a central European Orthodox rabbi with an American
gunslinger as they make their way across late-19th-century America.
Representations of clergy from beyond Judaism and Christianity are signifi-
cantly less common but are increasingly available even if many perpetuate cultural
 Clergy | 135

stereotypes (as in the solemn spirituality of Lost Horizon [1937]) or create comedy
by challenging such stereotypes (as in the monastic fight scene in Anger Manage-
ment [2003]). Films in which Buddhist and Hindu religious figures are presented
by filmmakers sensitive to those religious traditions are increasingly available and
include such notables as Little Buddha (1993), which interweaves the tale of the
founder of Buddhism; Kundun (1997) and Seven Years in Tibet (1997), both about
the Dalai Lama; or Phörpa (The Cup, 1999), in which Buddhists monks raise funds
to rent a television set so that they can watch the World Cup soccer tournament.
After a century of films, ministers are still portrayed as susceptible to the temp-
tations of the flesh. Sex remains a primary temptation, as in Sirens (1994), where
a progressive young minister and his wife find repressed sexual urges awakened.
But ultimately, the normal, ordinary lives of clergy appear in nostalgically ori-
ented films. A dependable old-fashioned priest appears in Rudy (1993); Preacher
Purl and Reverend Doty stand as principled and quiet supporters of the new coach
in Hoosiers (1986). Romero (1989) elevates the popularity of the archbishop and
his resistance to the tyranny in 1980s El Salvador; Dead Man Walking (1995)
highlights the role of clergy and the controversy over capital punishment in the
account of Sister Helen Prejean’s ministry with a death-row murderer; and Amaz-
ing Grace (2006) powerfully adapts the story of William Wilberforce’s mission to
abolish the British slave trade. Among the most authentic clergy to be portrayed in
film are the straightforward Baptist Reverend Hotchkiss in Tender Mercies (1983)
and the Texas radio preacher E. F. in The Apostle (1997).
Films have modeled the life and vicissitudes of ministry, from the silent clas-
sic Shadows (1922), in which a Chinese character is converted by the integrity
and grace of the local minister, to the ambiguity of Doubt (2009), where personal
accountability, race, and moral authority complicate the lives of various clergy. It
seems that the cinematic images of clergy will continue to contrast ironically with
the public perception of actual clergy.
Terry Lindvall
See also: Altman, Robert; Bergman, Ingmar; Black Church, The; Bresson,
Robert; Buñuel, Luis; Capra, Frank; Catholicism; Censorship in Hollywood;
Dreyer, Carl Theodor; Europe (Continental); Horror; Jesus; Joan of Arc; Latin
America; Protestantism; Science Fiction; Vampires; Westerns; Women.

Further Reading
Lacy, Allen. “The Unbelieving Priest: Miguel de Unamuno’s Saint Emmanuel the Good
Martyr and Bergman’s Winter Light.” Literature/Film Quarterly 10, no. 1 (1982): 53–61.
Lindvall, Terry. “The Faint Image of the Chaplain in 20th Century Combat Films.” Military
Chaplains’ Review 16 (1987): 1–26.
136 | Coen, Joel and Ethan

Lindvall, Terry. “The Organ in the Sanctuary: Silent Film and Paradigmatic Images of the
Suspect Clergy.” In Sex, Religion, Media, edited by Dane S. Claussen, 139–152. Lan-
ham, MD: Rowman and Littelfield, 2002.
Messer, Donald. Contemporary Images of Christian Ministry. Nashville, TN: Abingdon
Press, 1990.
Paietta, Ann C. Saints, Clergy and Other Religious Figures on Film and Television, 1895–
2003. Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 2005.
Sanders, Teresa. Celluloid Saints: Images of Sanctity in Film. Macon, GA: Mercer Uni-
versity Press, 2002.

Coen, Joel (1954– ) and Ethan (1957– )

The Coen brothers are critically acclaimed American filmmakers known for their
quirky characters, rich detail, and quick-witted, provocative dialogue. Their films,
hovering between “cult” status, highbrow artistic cachet, and mainstream success,
are explorations in American mythology and morality or the lack thereof.
The brothers’ first film, the low-
budget Blood Simple (1984), demon-
strated early a complete mastery of
directing and plotting technique as
well many of the thematic and moral
concerns that have come to inform
their oeuvre to date, while the criti-
cal and commercial success of their
second film, the comedy Raising
Arizona (1987), helped secure their
filmmaking future. Their fourth film,
Barton Fink (1991), was nominated
for three Academy Awards and won
the coveted Palme d’Or for best film
of the festival at the Cannes Film
Festival, where Joel also won “Best
Director” honors. That noteworthy
success was followed with their big-
gest critical and commercial disap-
pointment, The Hudsucker Proxy
American directors Joel and Ethan Coen at the
Toronto International Film Festival, 2009. AP (1994). They quickly rebounded
Photo/Carlo Allegri. with Fargo (1996), which received
 Coen, Joel and Ethan | 137

seven Academy Award nominations and gave the brothers their first Academy
Award (for “Best Original Screenplay”). O Brother, Where Art Thou? (2000) re-
ceived two award nominations, including “Best Screenplay.”
The pair have worked together closely on the set, and the current practice of
each being listed as directors and producers is accurate, but until Intolerable Cru-
elty (2003), Joel was billed as the director of the brothers’ movies while Ethan was
billed as producer. The duo have always written their films together and, under the
pseudonym Roderick Jaynes, have also served as coeditors. All this suggests that
the Coen brothers possess a rare degree of creative independence for those work-
ing within the Hollywood studio system. Their independence was rewarded when
in 2007 they jointly won Academy Awards for writing, directing, and producing
No Country for Old Men (2007). Despite the fact No Country is based on a Cor-
mac McCarthy novel and hews fairly closely to the source novel’s plot and motifs,
the film has many of the same religious themes as the Coens’ previous films.
Rarely are the Coen brothers referred to as “religious” filmmakers; typically,
critical analyses of the brothers describe them as masters of genre and technique
and as ironic chroniclers of 20th-century America. Unlike others, such as Martin
Scorsese, the Coens rarely depict visual representations of religion (such as clergy
or churches), nor are they known to have a sincere spiritual vision. In most of the
Coen brothers’ movies, religion appears in the background.
Of course there are a few exceptions, notably biblical symbols and allusions.
In Barton Fink, for example, the protagonist turns to the Bible placed in his hotel
room, where he sees the words of his play, instead of the creation story, in Gen-
esis 1. However, in two movies, O Brother, Where Art Thou? and The Ladykillers
(2004), religion is central to the story and setting; perhaps not incidentally, both
films take place in the American South. In O Brother, two of the characters are
baptized and proclaim themselves “born again,” while the third offers a penitent
prayer and receives a “miraculous” answer, which he quickly denies in the next
scene. In The Ladykillers, the devout church-going landlady survives several at-
tempts on her life through sometimes miraculous means and is rewarded at the end
of the film. Both films’ soundtracks feature gospel music.
Except in Ethan Coen’s short story “The Old Country” set at a Hebrew school,
there is little evidence of the Coen’s own middle-class Jewish American back-
ground; Joel and Ethan were born in Minneapolis, Minnesota, in a semiobservant
Jewish home, where they were sent to Hebrew school five days a week after the
end of the regular school day. Today neither of the brothers is observant, and the
few overtly Jewish characters in their films often conform to anti-Semitic ste-
reotypes, notably in the back-stabbing loan shark Bernie Bernbaum in Miller’s
Crossing (1990), the crass movie mogul Jack Lipnick in Barton Fink, and the
Sabbath-observing, Theodor Herzl–quoting, overbearing Walter Sobchak in
138 | Coen, Joel and Ethan

The Big Lebowski (1998). Nonetheless, beyond these representations of specific

traditions, if one uses a broad definition of the term religion, the Coen brothers’
films are religious in several important ways.
On one level of interpretation, some theorists argue that fan culture is religious
and film going is a ritual. These arguments pertain especially to that small cate-
gory known as “cult” films, which can be as commercially successful as Star Wars
(1977) or as niche-marketed as The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975) but in any
case inspire active audience participation. This might include seeing the movie
numerous times, reciting lines of dialogue, dressing and acting like the characters,
or obsessively acquiring details about the film. These cult films create community
around shared interpretation of text, much like religions.
The Big Lebowski is one of the few films of the 1990s that has achieved cult
status. The plot involves the Dude, a bowling-obsessed stoner who, because he
shares his name (“Jeff Lebowski”) with a shady millionaire, becomes involved in
a kidnapping scheme. When this film was first released, this shaggy-dog comedy-
noir seemed like a minor work, but as fans have come to discover through multiple
viewings, it possesses a rich, coherent subtext that incorporates war and revolution
as well as sex and death. True Lebowski aficionados embrace all aspects of the
film: the names of the quirky minor characters and the actors who played them
and also the real people who served as models for the characters of the Dude
and Sobchak. They might attend Lebowski Fest, an annual convention (held since
2002) dedicated to living like the Dude: bowling, drinking White Russians, and
wearing “jelly” shoes. Most importantly, fans also take the gentle Dude’s ethic
seriously—one fan even began the religion of “Dudeism” based on the Dude’s
philosophy.
The Big Lebowski may be the only Coen film to be an unintended “cult” film,
but it is not their only film to contain a rich mythology, and all of their films give
they impression that they are part of a larger coherent universe. The Coen brothers
give viewers polyvalent narratives both within and about the films; these create
a shared cultural meaning, in true mythic fashion. Foremost among the mythic
narratives about the films is the mystique about the brothers themselves. Affect-
less and evasive in interviews and award acceptance speeches, they seem to exist
in their own universe. They finish each other’s sentences and speak in a private
language, including special jargon for film terms such as sound effects and camera
shots. They are also known for their in-jokes: all their published screenplays have
introductions allegedly written by scholars or associates but are in fact written by
the brothers themselves, using pseudonyms (including their “nom-de-editor” Rod-
erick Jaynes). The Coens are also known for using recurrent themes, references,
actors, and visual motifs: many of their films have one lengthy sequence where
only music plays as a major event unfolds, a certain phrase repeated throughout the
 Coen, Joel and Ethan | 139

movie or in a specific scene, and/or scenes featuring vomiting, large men shouting,
and crass, untrustworthy men sitting behind desks.
All their films have elaborate inside jokes and multiple layers of meaning. One
film in particular seems to joke about the nature of mythology itself. O Brother
purports to be about Greek mythology, and there are many references to Homer’s
Odyssey: wily Ulysses encounters versions of the lotus eaters, the Sirens, a Cyclops,
and a blind soothsayer, all in an effort to return home to his wife Penny (short for
Penelope), though he has to fight off her suitor first. And yet this series of references
unabashedly demonstrates a “Cliff Notes” knowledge of the Odyssey. In truth, the
Coen brothers have admitted that they had not read Homer when they wrote the
screenplay. Instead, one might argue that the clues referring to the Odyssey are red
herrings, baiting film scholars to analyze the Homeric references while missing the
true theme of the film. Even the pretentious phrasing of the opening credits—“Based
upon the Odyssey by Homer”—should have given the game away, but it was enough
to fool members voting for the Academy Awards, who nominated the film for “Best
Adapted Screenplay.” (This is not the first time the brothers used the opening credits
to play mythological games; Fargo claims, falsely, to be based on a true story.)
The true theme of O Brother, Where Art Thou? is American mythology. Set in
the Deep South during the Great Depression, the film portrays the electrification
of the South by the WPA, the career of the bank robber “Babyface” Nelson, the
rebirth of the Ku Klux Klan, and the bluesman who makes a deal with the Devil,
all conveyed in a visual style that mimics Depression-era photography. Although
these incidents may seem like nothing more than an American mythological pas-
tiche, there is yet another layer of mythology—this one quite serious and based on
sound historical research. This is the origin myth of American popular music and,
one might argue, of America itself. O Brother reveals this origin as a miscegena-
tion: a mix of black and white cultures (the protagonists are mistaken for black),
folk and commercial cultures (their success on the quest is tied to their recording
a hit song), and the sacred and secular (we hear the same music used for political
campaigns and for religious revivals).
O Brother may be the best example of how the Coens play with the myth of
America, but it is not the only one. Virtually all their films are set at very specific
times and places: the Texas border in 1980 (No Country); Los Angeles on the eve
of World War II (Barton Fink) and the first Gulf War (The Big Lebowski); and a
small town during the beginning of the UFO craze and postwar anomie (The Man
Who Wasn’t There, 2001). But these films are not mere period pieces—rather, they
are explorations of American mythology.
Although the Coen brothers deny that their works carry any messages or mor-
als, all can be interpreted as modern morality plays. According to the Coens, most
people are motivated by greed and self-interest to perform evil acts. If they fail in
140 | Coen, Joel and Ethan

their schemes, it is usually because of their stupidity and lack of self-knowledge.

This basic bleak situation is best seen in the Coen brothers’ most used narrative
device, the botched kidnapping plot. But the Coens’ moral critique extends beyond
individual behavior to social institutions. Their business satire Hudsucker Proxy
portrays the evils of corporate capitalism, but the amorality of the American busi-
ness ethic is more subtly probed in films such as The Man Who Wasn’t There,
Raising Arizona, and The Big Lebowski. In the Coens’ moral universe, however,
there is something worse than quotidian greed and hypocrisy, and the Coens take
seriously the existence of an apocalyptic and unredeemable evil that leaves de-
struction and spiritual desolation in its wake. This evil is often personified in the
Coens’ films as an unstoppable violent killer. The character Anton Chigurh from
No Country for Old Men is the most notable example, but this figure can be traced
back to Leonard Smalls in Raising Arizona.
This morally bleak universe is leavened by the Coens’ take on goodness. The
true heroes of the Coens’ films are those who know their limitations and have the
moral imagination to see others’ capacity for self-delusion and vanity. The hero list
would include Miller’s Crossing’s Tom Regan, the Dude, Fargo’s Marge Gunder-
son, and Ed Tom Bell from No Country for Old Men. These last two have the most
in common: both are plain-spoken law officers surrounded by evil and violence
who embrace the true morality of domesticity and everyday life. For example,
Marge, seven months pregnant, buys worms for her husband’s ice-fishing expedi-
tion. Ed talks with his wife about their horses.
In Miller’s Crossing, Tom Regan must make the “right” decision, despite the
fact that it forces him to turn his back on his boss, his girlfriend, and his way of life.
Yet when he does, society at large returns to “normal.” Notes the first line of the
film’s dialogue: “It’s a question of ethics.” And despite his goal to remain drunk,
stoned, and unemployed in The Big Lebowski, the Dude has a true moral center and
a philosophy of life that owes not a little to Taoism: “The Dude abides . . .” His mo-
rality stands out all the more as he faces off against pornographers, nihilists, snobs,
frauds, and warmongers. Indeed, if the narrator is to be trusted, the Dude’s sloth
has a redemptive function for the rest of us; he is “takin’ ‘er easy for us sinners.”
Elijah Siegler and Tim Craig
See also: Film as Religion; Judaism; Ritual.

Further Reading
Allen, William Rodney, ed. The Coen Brothers: Interviews. Jackson: University Press of
Mississippi, 2006.
Falsani, Catherine. The Dude Abides: The Gospel According to the Coen Brothers. Grand
Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2009.
 Coppola, Francis Ford | 141

Lenzner, S. J. “A Cinematic Call for Self-Knowledge: An Interpretation of Miller’s Cross-

ing.” Perspectives on Political Science 30, no. 2 (2001): 85–92.
Mazur, Eric Michael. “ ‘I’d Rather Light a Candle Than Curse the Darkness’: Bringing
Religion to Light in Raising Arizona.” In Art and the Religious Impulse, edited by Eric
Michael Mazur, 104–124. Lewisburg, PA: Bucknell University Press, 2002.
Rowell, Erica. The Brothers Grim: The Films of Joel and Ethan Coen. Lanham, MD:
Scarecrow Press, 2007.

Coppola, Francis Ford (1939– )

Francis Ford Coppola established his legacy with four films in the 1970s—The
Godfather (1972), The Conversation (1974), The Godfather: Part II (1974), and
Apocalypse Now (1979)—that most vividly capture his concerns: the family, a
sense of guilt in the human condition, the dynamics of the American dream, and
the consequences of unchecked human malice. They also show a pronounced in-
terest in ritual—violent, familial, technological, and religious. Although Coppola’s
films rarely address religion directly, their themes are aligned to—or displace—
religious content, inviting viewers to reflect on religious questions.
Coppola has often spoken with affection of his youth and his closest family
ties. He has unapologetically transferred these experiences to his film productions,
their narratives, and the characters therein. Indeed, he is renowned for generating
on-set “family” environments and has had no qualms about hiring family mem-
bers, most notably his father, who scored roughly half of his films, winning an
Oscar for The Godfather: Part II. For Coppola, the family represents a form of
communion, and where protagonists fall foul of it, they become lost souls, discon-
nected, by extension, from the larger world, and from God.
Coppola’s first feature as writer and director—the low-budget horror film
Dementia 13 (1963)—examines a family coping with the death of a young girl.
Some unsettling sequences, with nods to the supernatural, are made memorable by
Coppola’s detailing of the emotional destruction of family life, including a scene
in which the family remembers the girl through ritual. His next film of note, The
Rain People (1969), focuses less on the dynamics of family than on the fear of a
family’s potential to disintegrate. Coppola’s later films, including his adaptations
of The Outsiders (1983) and Rumble Fish (1983), achieve dramatic tension by
exposing unflinchingly ragged family dynamics. Others explore other aspects of
family: the joyful spontaneity of a large family (Tucker: The Man and his Dream,
1988); the relationship between a woman and her grandparents (Peggy Sue Got
Married, 1986); and the supportive family (Jack, 1996). In the Godfather trilogy,
142 | Coppola, Francis Ford

Coppola portrays his most memorable family—the Corleones—in which an align-

ment of family and religion can be seen most clearly.
Coppola has noted that segments in The Godfather films (weddings and meals
especially) are drawn from his own experiences, showing Italian Americans with
dignity and realism. His depiction of the united, even cozy Mafia family creates an
inviting aura around criminal life. Traditional law enforcers in The Godfather are
either corrupt or ineffective; the new “law” is the family—its struggle to dominate
others and to look after its own—and is nostalgically linked to the law of the “old
country”: loyalty, honor, and the wisdom of silence. This Sicilian code functions
as a religious bond, which, if broken, results in severe punishment. For good or
ill, The Godfather establishes a new paradigm for later crime dramas, including
HBO’s The Sopranos (1999–2007). The language used to enforce the code is im-
bued with religious symbolism, most obviously in terms like godfather (with its
ties to Catholicism) but also in the economy of men presenting offerings for for-
giveness and protection. Particularly in The Godfather, family gatherings function
as a surrogate church; the opening wedding scene may be the most spectacular
example, with its pure joy and conspicuously absent priest. In another celebrated
sequence, the murder of the five heads of the rival families is intercut with a bap-
tism at which the newly appointed head of the family, Michael, serves as the god-
father to his sister’s son. As Michael repeats the liturgical rites renouncing Satan,
the brutal executions that he ordered are being carried out. Through Michael, the
worlds of family, religion, and “the business” collide with violent consequences.
The family is conspicuously absent in The Conversation, which centers en-
tirely around the quiet and serious life of Harry Caul, an audio surveillance ex-
pert. Coppola chronicles Caul’s passage from paranoia to moral certitude and back
again, offering an effective portrait of alienation and the desire for social connec-
tion. From the beginning, Harry is alone, struggling to connect, until he becomes
personally invested in a case on which he is working, losing sight of the point
of his work but sensing that something is deeply wrong and that it is up to him
to remedy it. As he feels increasingly bewildered at the conspiratorial incidents
swirling around him, he finds himself in his church, in confession, identifying his
sins by rote: taking the Lord’s name in vain, stealing newspapers, impure thoughts,
and his “work.” The mechanical response of the priest leaves no impression on
Harry, but it magnifies the sense in which he is a lost soul, unable or unwilling to
trust even the sanctified confidentiality of the confessional. The only way he finds
release from his self-imposed guilt is when he plays his saxophone, accompanying
a recording—a distinctly solitary form of escapism. Harry is incapable of forming
meaningful relationships, refusing even to tell his own girlfriend where he lives.
Like Michael Corleone in The Godfather: Part III (1990), he seeks reconciliation
with his past, troubled by the memory of a professional error that led to the murder
 Coppola, Francis Ford | 143

of a couple and their child. In the end, like Michael, he fails. Indeed, in one of
Coppola’s most devastating film endings, Harry’s judgment is revealed once again
to be fatally flawed and Harry to have lost all confidence in his skills and reputa-
tion (in which he has invested himself over and above all personal relationships).
The final image, as with so many of Coppola’s films, is of an isolated, alienated
protagonist, literally living in a shell of his own creation.
Long after its release, Coppola saw Apocalypse Now as emblematic of his
own experience of making it—an increasingly frightening and disorienting jour-
ney into madness. The circumstances of its production are now the stuff of movie
lore and legend: shooting took more than nine months longer than scheduled;
unable to get U.S. military support, Coppola had to rely on an erratic Philippine
government to supply troops and decrepit helicopters; a typhoon demolished sets
early on, adding $1.1 million to a budget that would balloon to $27 million. Even
set design reflected the harrowing enterprise, particularly Colonel Kurtz’s com-
pound, which was modeled on the Cambodian ruins of Angkor Wat and was so
successfully made to resemble an ancient and decrepit temple of death that cast
and crew were physically repelled. Coppola suffered terrible bouts of depression
and lost a dangerous amount of weight; postproduction was prolonged more than
two years as Coppola edited over a million feet of footage. Never confident of the
final product, he provided three different endings, eventually settling on the one
that audiences most preferred.
Although The Conversation explores Coppola’s interest in the alienation of
the individual, Apocalypse Now examines one person’s response to chaos and
moral ambiguity. Like Caul and Michael Corleone, Willard is invested in an all-
consuming search; the precise goal, however, remains unclear even at the end. On
the surface his goal is to terminate a wayward commander, the brilliant Colonel
Kurtz. Along the way, Willard becomes isolated, increasingly unsure of the legiti-
macy of his mission: is he any different from Kurtz, who rules by his own terms,
with no regard for (or connection to) the wider world and its values? Initially, Wil-
lard is visibly shocked at Commander Kilgore’s callous disregard for human life.
As the narrative progresses, Willard adopts the same ruthlessness, slaughtering a
wounded and clearly innocent Vietnamese woman. Coppola’s success in captur-
ing the disorientation of war was reflected by the strong support the film received
from Vietnam veterans.
Apocalypse Now is rich with mythological imagery. Kurtz leadership is
modeled on Virgil’s Aenied and the medieval tale of The Fisher King. Coppola
conceived of the film as a retelling of Conrad’s Heart of Darkness (1902), with
elements of Homer’s Odyssey. Apocalypse Now certainly recalls the contemporary
Werner Herzog film Aguirre, der Zorn Gottes (Aguirre: The Wrath of God, 1972),
which chronicles the river-based search for the mythological city of El Dorado.
144 | Coppola, Francis Ford

Willard’s experience is rendered as a passage into night and back into day; as
such, it has been understood by some as symbolic of death and resurrection. Ritual
is prominent in the film, nowhere less so than in the ritual slaughter of a cara-
bao (a domesticated water buffalo) performed by the Montagnard tribespeople
of Kurtz’s compound. Coppola’s wife had witnessed the ceremony performed by
local Ifugao tribespeople and convinced her husband to persuade them to re-enact
the unforgettable spectacle for the cameras. Spray-painted across the walls of
Kurtz’s compound, where the ceremonial slaughter takes place, is the religiously
reminiscent motto “Apocalypse Now.”
Although he denies the charge, in Coppola’s most critically regarded films he
seems enamored with screen violence and its ritualized presentation. One inter-
pretation of Coppola’s approach suggests that through his prolonged takes he al-
lows viewers to reflect on the outcome of violent resolutions. Yet the scrutiny that
lingering enables is confounded by the elegance with which it is executed. Viewers
may both admire and be repulsed by Michael’s stylized murder of Sollozo in The
Godfather or the now iconic chopper attack choreographed to Wagner’s Ride of
the Valkyres in Apocalypse Now.
Few of Coppola’s later films engage the probing themes that typified his work
of the 1970s, and some that showed potential—and that Coppola selected as per-
sonal projects—failed to ask questions of significant depth. An example is Bram
Stoker’s Dracula (1992), billed as a “faithful adaptation” of Stoker’s celebrated
novel. It starts well, with an imaginative prologue that explains the origins of Vlad
Dracul’s self-imposed excommunication from the church. Dracul’s wife Elisabeta
commits suicide after being fooled into believing that Dracul was killed in battle,
and Dracul returns to find that the church rejects her soul for the offense. He
swears himself as an enemy and devotes himself to the undead. Coppola saw the
story as a morality tale of what happens when people willingly cut themselves
off from the creative spirit of God. But Dracula’s characters are two-dimensional
ciphers and plot devices who ask no meaningful questions. And although the film
is full of Christian imagery, any attempts at reflection are drowned by a frighten-
ingly lurid stylistic palette.
The Godfather: Part III is a partial return to Coppola’s querulous form; it
fails to achieve the production and narrative quality of its prequels but is more
interested than those films in Michael’s search for release from his violent past.
Throughout, Michael is vulnerable and weakened by a loss of power within the
family and his own diabetes. Scholars of religion and film often discuss one of the
most memorable scenes in Part III: Michael’s visit to Rome and a warm-hearted
cardinal there who is the only person he trusts in his compromised relations to the
church. As Michael shares his concern that the Vatican is dealing dishonestly with
him, the cardinal reflects on the corruption: “Look at this stone. It has been lying
 Coppola, Francis Ford | 145

in the water for a very long time, but the water has not penetrated it.” He cracks
open the small stone. “Look: perfectly dry. The same thing has happened to men
in Europe for centuries. They have been surrounded by Christianity, but Christ has
not penetrated. Christ doesn’t live within them.” This describes Michael as well as
it does The Conversation’s Harry Caul. Christ and the communion of family and
church are merely environments that the two inhabit. For Michael this becomes
even clearer when the cardinal convinces him to confess his own sins, which he
does, weeping as he relates his order to murder Fredo, his brother. The cardinal
utters what we already suspect: “Your life could be redeemed. But I know that you
don’t believe that. You will not change.” There is no doubt that Michael’s desire
for redemption is genuine, but after years of deceit, compromise, and self-imposed
alienation, Michael is unable to live at peace.
Coppola is a man with an unrelenting self-belief, particularly in the face of
virulent criticism. His best work shows an artist in restless pursuit of elusive goals.
And if there is a religious legacy to Coppola’s films, it is perhaps found in his
search for communion, for peaceful connection to one’s immediate family, and
reconciliation to a haunting past.
Eric S. Christianson
See also: Catholicism; Ritual; Vampires.

Further Reading
Blake, Richard A. Afterimage: The Indelible Catholic Imagination of Six American Film-
makers. Chicago: Loyola Press, 2000.
Christianson, Eric S. “An Ethic You Can’t Refuse? Assessing The Godfather Trilogy.” In
Cinéma Divinité: Religion, Theology and the Bible in Film, edited by Eric Christianson,
Peter Francis, and William R. Telford, 110–123. London: SCM Press, 2005.
Graham, Paul. “Revisiting Violence in The Godfather: The Ambiguous Space of the Victi-
mage Model.” Journal of Religion and Film 9, no. 2 (2005): http://www.unomaha.edu/
jrf/Vol9No2/grahamGodfather.htm.
Kreitzer, Larry J. “The Scandal of the Cross: Crucifixion Imagery and Bram Stoker’s
Dracula.” In The Monstrous and the Unspeakable: The Bible as Fantastic Literature,
edited by George Aichele and Tina Pippin, 181–219. Sheffield, UK: Sheffield Aca-
demic Press, 1997.
May, John R. “The Godfather Films: Birth of a Don, Death of a Family.” In Image and
Likeness: Religious Visions in American Film Classics, edited by John R. May, 65–75.
New York: Paulist Press, 1991.
D

DeMille, Cecil B. (1881–1959)

Cecil B. DeMille can be credited with one of the earliest and arguably most success-
ful uses of film as a tool for Christian evangelism. As more Americans became reg-
ular patrons of the silver screen, DeMille provided them with moralizing cinematic
adaptations of religious narratives. In many of his movies, he tugged at the spiritual
heartstrings of his ever-increasing audience with a sophistication unparalleled in
American cinema. Best known for
his remake of The Ten Command-
ments (1956), DeMille began his
career in film with a studied atten-
tion to the religious power of film.
From the making of his first pic-
ture, DeMille took advantage of the
moving picture’s ability to concret-
ize representations and narratives
that, when presented in plays, relied
upon the imagination of the viewer.
The opening credits of the 1956 re-
make promise that the film’s view-
ers “will make a pilgrimage over
the very ground that Moses trod
more than 3,000 years ago.” Watch-
ing DeMille’s films, the epigraph
seems to imply, was no substitute
for religious experience; it was re-
ligious experience.
DeMille was the son of Henry C. American director Cecil B. DeMille, 1949.
DeMille, a successful New York AP Photo.

147
148 | DeMille, Cecil B.

playwright who was also a lay minister in the Episcopal Church, and the young
DeMille saw an easy alliance between the two professions. As a young man, De-
Mille embarked on a series of cross-country tours in the traveling theater with his
wife; but by the time he was 30, he had recognized the large-scale decline of play-
acting as popular entertainment. He teamed up with friend and theater colleague
Jesse Lasky, who had orchestrated the formation of the Jesse Lasky Feature Play
Company (which would later become Paramount Pictures) both to make a foray
into the increasingly popular medium of film and to take a shot at success in the
new genre. DeMille began making hugely popular marriage comedies that at once
entertained audiences with their racy depictions of extramarital affairs and, with
the moralizing resolutions of their plots, reinforced Victorian codes of conduct.
DeMille was a master of the juicy cautionary tale; audiences paid not only for
scenes of excess but also for the moral conscience that was always there to temper
them. These early pictures sustained DeMille’s forays into what would become
his hallmark, the religiohistorical epic. With The Ten Commandments (1923), The
King of Kings (1927), and The Sign of the Cross (1932), DeMille provided the
moviegoing public with what he would later consider his great religious trilogy.
Allegedly, DeMille’s intent to make his first version of The Ten Command-
ments was solidified by a Los Angeles Times contest in which readers were asked
to choose the story they most longed to see released as a film. Following the dictum
included in the winning suggestion (“You cannot break the Ten Commandments—
they will break you”), the script presented the religious narrative as an allegorical
guide to a contemporary drama. Although the film’s biblical “prologue” shows
Moses leading thousands of extras out of Egypt, the second half attempts to dem-
onstrate the contemporary repercussions of all 10 laws being broken; a melodrama
unfolds in which two rival brothers fight over Mary, a young waif brought home
by their charitable but self-righteous mother. Whereas Dan, the pious son, pursues
a modest career as a carpenter, John, his romantically victorious older brother,
succeeds as a corrupt contractor. When years later the boys’ mother wanders into
John’s shoddily constructed cathedral, she is crushed by a falling apse and buried
in the ruins. The film’s structure barely coheres, but the contemporary append-
age was at the time familiar territory for DeMille and his audience. Nonetheless,
DeMille’s 1956 remake of the picture eliminated the present-day morality play
entirely; the film’s legacy was the wide shots and special effects that gave the
biblical narrative a new kind of reality for an audience already familiar with it.
Indeed, besides being DeMille’s first filmic venture into biblical spectacle, The
Ten Commandments gave viewers an idea of the lavishness of the religious pic-
tures that DeMille was yet to make. The entrance alone for the prologue’s City of
Rameses—dynamited and buried with the rest of the set following production—
marked the largest set piece ever constructed for a single film.
 DeMille, Cecil B. | 149

In his penultimate silent film, The King of Kings, DeMille abandoned the
structure of embedded historical narrative, choosing to portray only the story of
Christ. The film was financed in part by philanthropist Jeremiah Milbank, who
with DeMille dedicated his share of the film’s proceeds to sustaining the film’s
availability for churches and missionaries. Unadulterated by the contemporary al-
legory that weighed down The Ten Commandments, this film afforded DeMille
the opportunity to present a Christology that would both inform and reflect view-
ers’ religious ideas. With a regal self-assurance, the Christ of The King of Kings is
shown walking through the familiar stages of the Passion. Yet DeMille had made
sure that more was familiar about the film than its depiction of the biblical text;
appended to the Gospel narrative is an opening focus on the immoral eroticism
of Mary Magdalene. Having left Judas, her lover, to follow Jesus (and thus more
closely resembling the other female lead, Mary the Mother), DeMille’s Magdalene
implies a feminine dichotomy in which the primary effect of Jesus’ teachings is to
deeroticize the female. Leading her away from sexual licentiousness, Jesus guides
his followers toward moral purity in much the same spirit as DeMille’s Moses
come down from Mt. Sinai. (Indeed, if the Moses of both versions of The Ten
Commandments is unmistakably Christ-like, then no less so is the Jesus of The
King of Kings Mosaic.) Despite accusations of anti-Semitism, the film was hugely
successful, and continued screenings demanded by church organizations meant
that in less than a decade The King of Kings had grossed over $2 million. Less
visible was the film’s contribution to DeMille’s growing belief in himself as a sort
of cinematic prophet.
As the final installment in his de facto religious trilogy, The Sign of the Cross
is a morality play set in pre-Christian Rome. Intended as a sort of appendix to his
previous Old and New Testament pictures, the film was, like many of DeMille’s
“secular” endeavors, adapted from a late 19th-century play (written by Wilson
Barrett). Owing to the pressure he was under to produce a successful film under
budget, The Sign of the Cross is more tightly structured than The Ten Command-
ments and The King of Kings. The film begins with the burning of Rome, which
a half-mad Nero decides to blame on the Christian minority. Responsible for ar-
resting adherents of the faith, Roman prefect Marcus Superbus stumbles upon the
beautiful and virtuous Mercia, with whom he quickly falls in love. The infatuation
appears mutual, but DeMille preserves Mercia’s piety and lets Nero’s court supply
the contrasting debauchery and titillation. Inspired by Mercia’s resistance to the
tempting and taunting of Roman revelers, Marcus chooses to join her in Chris-
tian martyrdom. (Owing to DeMille’s incorporation of courtship into the religious
drama, The Sign of the Cross ultimately links Christian piety to a certain romantic
desirability.) In the film’s final sequence, the Roman Circus makes quite a spec-
tacle of the carnival-like slaughter. Consistent with the moral code broadcast in
150 | DeMille, Cecil B.

all of DeMille’s films, the public depravity of the Circus contrasts nicely with the
private, dimly lit scenes of Christian virtue.
Though an odd problem for an ostensibly religious film, it is perhaps not sur-
prising that The Sign of the Cross ran into some trouble with Hollywood censors.
One scene in particular met with disapproval with a consulting pastor; Joyzelle
Joyner, as the pagan temptress Ancaria, performs a provocative “lesbian dance” to
tempt the Christian Mercia, which, according to DeMille, was necessary for plot
development. Staying true to his admonitions against censorship, DeMille kept
the film’s most risqué scenes and heard few complaints from his audience. He also
succeeded in neutralizing any potential public outcry through his comparisons of
Depression-era America with the declining Roman Empire. DeMille seemed to be
suggesting that if one opposed The Sign of the Cross, one would be opposing the
sacrifice of the righteous private citizens depicted in the film. Well suited to De-
Mille’s twin goals of entertainment and evangelism, the message seemed to resonate
well with audiences, and the picture met with great success. Rereleased in 1944, it
had a World War II prologue that drew analogies between Nero and Hitler.
Amid numerous forays into westerns and other Americana, DeMille contin-
ued to make religiohistorical pictures for the rest of his career. The grand fi-
nale was his 1956 remake of The Ten Commandments, a nearly four-hour-long
epic version of the 1923 biblical prologue, shot on location in Egypt, in which
DeMille was at his most grandiose, pulling out all the stops in Technicolor and
VistaVision, not to mention special effects that allowed for the monumental part-
ing of the Red Sea. Indeed, of all his films, The Ten Commandments recapitulates
most of the features that DeMille had spent his career cultivating. As the film
begins—not in ancient Egypt, but in a modern theater—DeMille steps from be-
hind a curtain and provides an introduction that confidently frames the unfolding
drama as the archetypical Cold War narrative. “The theme of this picture,” pro-
claims the man outside the curtain, “is whether men ought to be ruled by God’s
law or whether they are to be ruled by the whims of a dictator like Rameses. Are
men the property of the state or are they free souls under God? This same battle
continues throughout the world today.”
Establishing both the historical authenticity and contemporary relevance of
the picture about to be shown, DeMille and the opening credits cite Philo, Jose-
phus, Eusebius, the Midrash, and the “Holy Scriptures” as sources and also give a
nod to three more recent novels: Reverend J. H. Ingraham’s Pillar of Fire (1858),
Reverend A. E. Southon’s On Eagles’ Wings (1937), and Dorothy Clarke Wilson’s
Prince of Egypt (1949). Taking place within the peculiar logic of the Cold War
milieu, where patriotic piety necessarily meant religious piety, The Ten Command-
ments remake allowed DeMille’s entrepreneurial and filmmaking skills to meet
with his religious agenda like never before. Indeed, perhaps the most significant
 DeMille, Cecil B. | 151

argument DeMille makes through the film concerns the relationship between
religion and liberty. A free society is possible for Moses and the Israelites only
because of their religion. DeMille took no pains to be subtle in conveying the
message: With the assistance of the Fraternal Order of Eagles, he launched an
elaborate publicity campaign to donate and dedicate stone replicas of the biblical
commandments in public spaces such as courthouses across America.
Such increasingly explicit references to contemporary political concerns not-
withstanding, none of DeMille’s religious films shows any signs of a social gos-
pel. Redemption is always framed privately, a structure that resonated particularly
well with the “Red-hunting” evangelicism DeMille championed after the Second
World War. And whether it was Rameses, Caiaphas, or Nero, powerful enemies of
the privately righteous are regularly defeated by the overwhelming virtue of the
private citizen. Individual morality and individual conversion, not social action,
constitute the straight and narrow in the moral economy of a DeMille film.
Contrary to the assaults of his numerous critics—and DeMille the auteur
took a special pride in the poor regard of Hollywood intellectuals—he made his
films with a view to much more than mere showmanship. As he claimed in an
essay promoting The King of Kings, he saw the screen as a “religious teacher.”
And though the content of his films ranged from biblical morality plays to west-
erns to bawdy sex comedies, the thrust of his work never strayed far from his
evangelistic vision.
Frank Pittenger
See also: Bible Films; Jesus; Missionary Films; Silent Film.

Further Reading
DeMille, Cecil B. “The Screen as Religious Teacher.” Theatre (March 1927): 45, 76.
DeMille, Cecil B. “Teaching vs. Preaching as Related to the Production of Moving Pic-
tures.” Moving Picture Age 3, no. 7 (1920): 10.
Herman, Felicia. “ ‘The Most Dangerous Anti-Semitic Photoplay in Filmdom’: Ameri-
can Jews and The King of Kings (DeMille, 1927).” Velvet Light Trap 46 (Fall 2000):
12–25.
Kozlovic, Anton Karl. “ The Whore of Babylon: Suggestibility, and the Art of Sexless Sex
in Cecil B. DeMille’s Samson and Delilah (1949).” In Sex, Religion, Media, edited by
Dane S. Claussen, 21–31. New York: Rowman and Littlefield, 2002.
Nadel, Alan. “God’s Law and the Wide Screen: The Ten Commandments as Cold War
Epic.” PMLA: Publications of the Modern Language Association of America 108, no. 3
(1993): 415–430.
Noerdlinger, Henry S. Moses and Egypt: The Documentation to the Motion Picture The
Ten Commandments. Los Angeles: University of Southern California Press, 1956.
152 | Devil

Devil

In the earliest films portraying the Devil, the idea of featuring the fallen angel is
suggested by the link between magicians and satanic powers. Georges Méliès, a
magician who created hundreds of short films featuring astounding special effects
that played as interludes in his stage act, exploited the idea that magic is a human
manifestation of hellish supernatural abilities (frequently played up in advertis-
ing and theatrical business by illusionists) in many early films. The director and
star himself portrayed the Devil, the better to connect his abilities with demonic
favors. In Le Manoir du diable (Manor of the Devil, 1896), he produces super-
natural creatures from a cauldron before being defeated by a crucifix. Similarly,
Le Cabinet de Méphistophélès (The Cabinet of Mephistopheles, 1896) focuses on
the Devil’s workroom, where objects and people appear and disappear, furniture
flies around, and items pass through the bars of a large cage. The focus here is
on the inexplicable (and therefore possibly nefarious) powers of the magician to
make possible the impossible. In a few later efforts, the Devil is shown wreaking
havoc in somewhat more detailed and plot-driven settings. In The Devil in the
Convent (1899), the Devil preys on nuns by slowly transforming their holy house
into a hellish dungeon. In one of the more elaborate short films, Le Diable géant
ou Le Miracle de la madonne (The Devil and the Statue, 1902), the Devil appears
to foil the romance of Romeo and Juliet by growing to enormous size, only to be
shrunk and sent packing by a statue of the Madonna, who comes to life through
Juliet’s prayers.
As the personification of evil, the Devil has a natural role in cinema. Film is
a visual medium, and a concrete figure representing illicit desires and immorality
of all kinds proves most helpful in the visualization of existential conflict. In the
silent era, an emphasis on melodrama and allegory rendered the Devil an integral
part of many dramatic features and shorts. The various tales of Faust and Me-
phistopheles provide the underpinning to a number of early short films, like Bill
Bumper’s Bargain (1911), while Edward Sloman’s Faust (1915) uses the Charles
Gounod 1859 opera of the same name as its plot outline. Feature-length versions
proliferated as the silent era reached its peak, perhaps the most famous being
F. W. Murnau’s Faust—Eine deutsche Volkssage (Faust, A German Folktale, 1926),
with titles by the German playwright Gerhard Hauptmann. Inspired by Faust’s bar-
gain, the theme of selling one’s soul for love, talent, or money became a frequent
and enduring theme. In The Black Crook (1916), the main character tries to get sep-
arated lovers to sell their souls to Satan in order to fulfill his own bargain to deliver
fresh souls to his infernal master. Naturally, the Devil also appears in movies with
biblical origins or inspirations; for example, the book of Job inspired D. W. Grif-
fiths’ The Sorrows of Satan (1926), in which the Devil tries to prove that everyone
 Devil | 153

is corruptible by luring a lovelorn writer to his doom. Bedazzled (1967) takes the
theme in a comedic direction.
As storytelling sophistication increased and the theatricality of early films
gave way to a more naturalistic style, the Devil was relegated to films with fan-
tastical elements and to animated shorts. As the “Night on Bald Mountain” seg-
ment of Walt Disney’s Fantasia (1940) illustrates, depictions of devils, demons,
skeletons, ghosts, and other supernatural horror elements were not at all taboo in
the first few decades of talking pictures. In fact, the Devil and the denizens of hell
were frequently depicted in Disney’s cartoons and those of competing studios.
One notable live-action example of the allegorical power of the Devil during this
period is Fritz Lang’s Liliom (1934), based on Ferenc Molnár’s play. Liliom is
a carnival barker in love with a Budapest maid, who is given a final chance at
making amends for his life gone wrong after being frightened by hell’s terrors in
purgatory. Most other feature-length examples between 1930 and 1955, however,
occur in films with a comical or grotesque air, as in The Devil and Daniel Webster
(1941) and Cabin in the Sky (1943).
In the 1950s, Roger Corman’s American International Pictures began to
change the face of the horror genre by churning out low-budget pictures to fill
out multifilm bills at theaters and drive-ins. The Undead (1957) uses Satan as
a character in the story of a prostitute sent back in time by psychic researchers
and accused of being a witch. Following Corman’s lead, other shoestring studies
began using Satanism as a plot device, suggested by the connection to witch-
craft, long a horror staple: for instance, The Devil’s Partner (1962), The Devil’s
Hand (1962), The Kiss of the Vampire (1963), and one of the most famous bad
movies of all time, Manos: The Hands of Fate (1966). The profitability and
popularity of these horror films, combined with social forces such as hysteria
over juvenile delinquency and the accessibility of strange new religious move-
ments, combined to produce the environment in which the Devil film became
nearly ubiquitous.
With the birth of the contemporary horror genre in the 1960s, the Devil took
a starring role in an entire subgenre of exploitation and drive-in features that used
satanic elements for shock value. Rosemary’s Baby (1968) can be credited with
bringing the fear of Satanism that had been simmering in evangelical subcultures
into the mainstream and combining this potent source of imagery with horror ele-
ments pioneered for a mass audience in Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho (1960). In
Rosemary’s Baby, a pregnant woman experiences misgivings and fears about her
baby and learns that she has been impregnated by a coven of witches who are
using her to carry Satan’s son. The Exorcist (1973), with its portrayal of a young
girl possessed by the Devil, cemented the trend’s place in the esthetic of the 1970s.
Although The Omen (1976) was about the Antichrist rather than Satanism, the
154 | Devil

popular linkage of the Antichrist with the offspring of Satan connected the end-
times and Satanic plot lines for the duration of the decade.
Benefiting from the breakdown of production code standards in the 1960s
and the rise of the MPAA ratings—which allowed far more explicit material
on theatrical screens—exploitation films featuring Satanism proliferated through-
out the decade. Some of the background material for these films can be traced to
the Swedish documentary Häxan (The Witches, 1922), based on director Bernard
Christensen’s research into the superstitions that led to medieval witch hunts. The
film contained dramatized sequences interspersed with a slide show illustrating
Christensen’s lecture, and these dramatic interludes, especially as seen in the
shortened version Witchcraft Through the Ages (1968), narrated by William Bur-
roughs, influenced the supernatural horror esthetic of the 1970s. Another possible
source is the cult classic Incubus (1965), a surreal feature filmed entirely in Espe-
ranto about demons luring weak, libertine men to perdition.
Satanists seemed to motivate the plot in every other drive-in horror picture
for several years, and these were often combined haphazardly with other bogey
men of the period. In I Drink Your Blood (1970), hippie devil worshippers rape a
farmer’s daughter, whose brother then feeds them pies laced with a rabid dog’s
blood. Werewolves on Wheels (1971) brings together a biker gang with a monastic
order engaged in Satanic rites. After the bikers destroy their monastery, the female
member who was chosen as a sacrifice turns into a werewolf and terrorizes her
former colleagues. Tom Selleck, just a few years before his TV breakout role in
Magnum, P.I. (CBS, 1980–1988), starred in Daughters of Satan (1972), the story
of a man whose wife is possessed by the spirit of witches living inside a painting.
The Canadian thriller The Pyx (1973) featured Christopher Plummer as a detective
investigating the death of prostitute Karen Black and finding evidence of a vast
Satanist conspiracy. The key clues found on the victim’s body are a necklace with
an upside-down cross and a pyx (container for consecrated communion wafers).
John Travolta made his feature-film debut in The Devil’s Rain (1975), about a rural
satanic cult who use their devil-granted powers to melt those who oppose them.
Major studios also released films that cashed in on the fascination with the
Devil and his followers. Columbia Pictures offered The Brotherhood of Satan
(1971), starring a town doctor who apparently tries to help a young family caught
in a town controlled by a group of strange children. However, the doctor is actu-
ally the leader of a coven of elders who are organizing the children into a Satan-
worshipping cult. Twentieth Century Fox produced Race with the Devil (1975),
a classic of the genre, in which family patriarchs on vacation witness a Satanic
sacrifice and cannot get anyone to believe them.
The British film and television industry paralleled its American counterparts
with regard to the Satanism craze. Indeed, an early entry in the craze was The
 Devil | 155

Devil Rides Out (also known as The Devil’s Bride, 1968), a costume drama in
which the Duke of Richeleau battles the forces of evil to win back his young ward
from a group of Satan worshippers who aim to baptize him in darkness. Blood on
Satan’s Claw (1971), another historical drama, portrays a group of 17th-century
children in the grip of demon possession, featuring occult ceremonies led by an
evil teenage girl. In Blue Blood (1973), a nobleman discovers that his servants
have formed a devil-worshiping cult. To the Devil a Daughter (1976) featured an
American novelist trying to save a friend’s daughter from a satanic ring run by an
excommunicated priest. Satan’s Slave (1976) starred Michael Gough as the patri-
arch of a devil cult; he is pitted against his niece, who is trying to escape.
Satan and Satanism were far from an underground phenomenon. To the contrary,
several made-for-television movies and miniseries aired on major networks explor-
ing the same fascination with the Devil. Paramount Television produced The Devil’s
Daughter (1973), about a mother who sells her daughter’s soul to Satan, only to find
that the Devil wants the girl to marry a demon. Later the same production company
released the TV sequel Look What Happened to Rosemary’s Baby (1976). Aaron
Spelling made Satan’s School for Girls (1973), featuring Kate Jackson and Cheryl
Ladd, who would later star in Spelling’s hit series Charlie’s Angels (ABC, 1976–
1981). The plot involves a woman’s undercover investigation into a school where
her sister committed suicide; naturally the school is less about academics than in-
struction in Satan worship. Spelling also produced Cruise into Terror (TV 1978),
about an Egyptian sarcophagus containing the son of Satan that unleashes hellish
fury on a cruise ship. In Universal’s House of Evil (1974), two sisters enter a pact
with the Devil and terrorize their neighbors. Conspiracy of Terror (1975), based on
a David Delman novel, is about husband-and-wife detectives trying to shine a light
on murderous Satanic cults. Veteran TV actor-director Leo Penn led the miniseries
The Dark Secret of Harvest Home (1978), based on the novel by Tom Tryon, about
a Devil-worshipping cult in a New England town. CBS aired Devil Dog: The Hound
of Hell (1978), perhaps the apotheosis of the genre, involving a father whose family
is terrorized by a minion of Satan in the form of a vicious dog.
A trend so pervasive naturally inspires spoofs and parodies. One of the first to
take the theme lightly was Children Shouldn’t Play with Dead Things (1972), directed
by the same man later responsible for A Christmas Story (1984). A group of friends
decides to use a Satanist text to raise the dead, and soon the graveyard is overrun with
living corpses. The over-the-top spoof Satan’s Cheerleaders (1977) had a high school
janitor kidnapping the cheerleading squad to use in his coven’s ritual sacrifices.
Innumerable knockoffs of both prestige and low-budget pictures came from
Italy, Mexico, and South America during this period, with titles like La orgía de los
muertos (Terror of the Living Dead, also known as The Hanging Woman, 1973),
Riti, magie nere e segrete orge nel trecento (Black Magic Rites and the Secret
156 | Dogme 95

Orgies of the Fourteenth Century, 1973), L’Anticristo (The Antichrist, 1974), Un

urlo nelle tenebre (The Return of the Exorcist, 1975), and Tutti i colori del buio
(All the Colors of the Dark, 1976). Many foreign productions utilized English-
speaking actors, especially as horror icons; for instance, the Greek production The
Devil’s Men (also known as Land of the Minotaur, 1976) starred Donald Pleasance
and Peter Cushing.
As the seventies gave way to the eighties, supernatural horror was supplanted
by the slasher movie as the predominant shock genre in commercial film. Those
films that continued to be based in the supernatural moved more toward an interest
in psychic phenomena and ghosts, a trend that reached the mainstream and was
popularized widely by Steven Spielberg’s Poltergeist (1982). A link between these
two horror genres can be seen in The Visitor (1979), about a girl with psychic pow-
ers who becomes a battleground between the forces of God and Satan. Although
horror movies with titles referencing the Devil or Satan continued to proliferate
in the 1980s, the plots veered away from Satanism or demonic incarnations and
focused more on vampires, werewolves, or other occult spirits.
Donna Bowman
See also: Animated Films; Catholicism; End-of-the-World Films; Horror;
Protestantism; Science Fiction; Vampires.

Further Reading
Fry, Carrol L. “The Devil You Know: Satanism in Angel Heart.” Literature/Film Quarterly
19, no. 3 (1991): 197–203.
Malone, Peter. Movie Christs and Antichrists. New York: Crossroad Publishing, 1990.
Mitchell, Charles P. The Devil On Screen: Feature Films Worldwide, 1913–2000. Jeffer-
son, NC: McFarland, 2002.
Poole, W. Scott. Satan in America: The Devil We Know. Lanham, MD: Rowman and Little-
field, 2009.
Schreck, Nicholas. The Satanic Screen: An Illustrated Guide to the Devil in Cinema.
London: Creation Books, 2001.

Dogme 95

“Auteur theory” is the school of thought that argues that for some film produc-
tions, the role of the director is not only central but vital to understanding the
overall meaning of a film. Auteur is the French word for “author,” and the “poli-
tique des auteurs” (“politics of auteur”) were first articulated by director Francois
 Dogme 95 | 157

Truffaut in his 1954 article “Une certaine tendance du cinema francais” (Cahiers
du cinema). Truffaut postulated that one person, usually the director, bears the
artistic responsibility for a film and reveals a personal worldview through the ten-
sions among style, theme, and the conditions of production. In short, auteur theory
argues that a film can be studied like a novel or painting as the product of an
individual artist. Truffaut maintained that the work of an author could be found
in many Hollywood films; it was the quality of the director that was the measure
of the work, not necessarily the work itself, and filmmakers often referred to as
auteurs include Stanley Kubrick, Alfred Hitchcock, and Woody Allen. Truffaut’s
pronouncement helped defend the late 1950s Hollywood system of filmmaking
against France’s popular criticism.
In current film criticism, there is a general acknowledgement that films are not
the product of merely one single auteur or creator but are collective efforts; most
people now refer to the “new auteur theory.” Although the director still receives
most of the credit for the voice of the film, many of the current directors who are
considered auteurs use the same cast and crew for most (if not all) of their films.
The new auteur theory raises the question of whether it is possible to distinguish
the voice of the director from that of the collective (screenwriters, actors, and
all those responsible for creative decision making) if the crew is virtually the same
in every film, and contemporary auteurs such as the Coen brothers, Wes Anderson,
and Christopher Guest almost always use the same creative team.
Many comparisons can be made between auteur theory and aspects of reli-
gious study: the emphasis placed on authorship of sacred texts or the view of God
as “author” in monotheistic traditions. One good example of auteur theory is the
Dogme 95 movement. Drafted in 1995 by four avant garde directors—Thomas
Vinterberg, Lars von Trier, Søren Krag Jacobsen, and Kristian Levring—Dogme
95 utilized some of the traditional categories of religious fundamentalism (hence
the name, which is Danish for “dogma”), notably a vow of chastity, the need for
confession, and the role of incarnation. The responsibility for adhering to the
Dogme tenets rested upon the director as auteur. The challenge set forth through
Dogme 95 was a call to directors to adhere to key tenets of “filmic piety” with
the goal of maintaining artistic purity. In their description of the rationale for the
Dogme 95 mandate, the founding directors of the movement decried the use of
technology to fool audiences.
The Dogme 95 10-point “vow of chastity” included the requirements that all
shooting must be done “on location” without the introduction of foreign props;
all sound had to be consistent with the location; and all shooting had to be done
with handheld cameras, in color, without the use of special lighting or filters, and
in 35 mm. In addition, “genre” films were prohibited, as was temporal and geo-
graphic “alienation,” and the director had to go uncredited. In order for a film to be
158 | Dogme 95

considered a Dogme 95 film, the director had to adhere to this “vow of chastity”
as well as certain other conditions, including a prohibition against the introduction
of personal taste. As with strict dogma, there is the humble realization that human
failings will fall short of the ideal, raising the need for confession. Thomas Vinter-
berg, the director of the first Dogme 95 film Festen (The Celebration, 1998), was
the first to see the limits of human ability and creativity in relation to dogmatic
regulations placed on directors striving for the vow of chastity addressed in the
Dogme 95 movement. As he made Festen, he succumbed to the “temptation” to
bend the rules in order to fulfill his artistic vision, ushering in the need for “con-
fession.” Given that Dogme directors are left to their own consciences to adhere
to the tenets of Dogme 95, they are also absolved by admitting wrong. Vinterberg
listed his transgressions in relation to these rules and submitted to the authority of
the Dogme directors by seeking “absolution.”
As it stands, no one can forbid a director from calling his film a Dogme 95
film. The roles of confession, absolution, and reprimand play into the ongoing
reality that films are public enterprises. The works would be measured against the
tenets upon which they were said to have been formed and therefore judged by the
critics and the audience, many of whom were very aware of the rules.
The Dogme 95 manifesto was exclusively aimed at the filmmaking process
and not the “afterlife” of the film (public relations, marketing, and distribution).
The Dogme rules were considered to be symbolic and not meant to remain secret
or hidden. They were an expression of the director’s wish to recede into the back-
ground and thus push other talent into the foreground. According to Vinterberg,
the duty of the director was to record human interaction, not create it.
While the role of Dogme 95 was to call auteurs to a “vow of chastity,” and to
acknowledge the need for confession in the face of breaking this vow, the Dogme
manifesto was also an attempt on the part of the directors to bring filmmaking into
a more incarnational form. As Vinterberg stated, the role of Dogme 95’s rules was
to free through and with form. He noted that films had to take risks, and that the
makers of those films had to feel that risk. The goal of Dogme 95 was to get down
to the basics of film; the strict rules were designed to liberate the filmmaker from
conventions in conception as well as in production. Vinterberg even reflected that
the prohibition against a soundtrack meant that he could let his characters sing.
Although there was great excitement surrounding the movement in its first
few years, fewer explicitly Dogme 95 films are being made today. Part of the
challenge rests in the fact that every time a new Dogme 95 film was made and dis-
cussed, it became more difficult to determine what makes a truly Dogme 95 film.
In addition, given that it has become increasingly difficult to get all the Dogme
95 directors together as they became occupied with their own new films, they
 Dreyer, Carl Theodor | 159

did not always agree upon the “verdict.” For example, when one views Harmony
Korinne’s Julian Donkey Boy (1999), one is certainly challenged to categorize
the film within a genre such as Dogme 95, and one can understand the trouble
the founding directors had; this tough description of a schizophrenic young man
stretches the Dogme 95 rules to the limit.
Jeff Keuss
See also: Allen, Woody; Bazin, André; Coen, Joel and Ethan; Kubrick, Stanley;
Truffaut, François; Trier, Lars von.

Further Reading
Bainbridge, Caroline. The Cinema of Lars Von Trier: Authenticity and Artifice. New York:
Wallflower Press, 2007.
Hjort, Mette, and Scott Mackenzie. Purity and Provocation: Dogme ’95. London: British
Film Institute, 2008.
Stevenson, Jack. Dogme Uncut: Lars von Trier, Thomas Vinterberg, and the Gang That
Took on Hollywood. Santa Monica, CA: Santa Monica Press, 2003.

Dreyer, Carl Theodor (1889–1968)

Carl Theodor Dreyer, the most important director in Danish film history, is also
one of the most relevant authors for a study on cinema and theology. His films are
characterized by guilt and redemption, generally thought to be a consequence of
his troubled childhood.
Born Karl Nielsen to an unmarried Swedish housekeeper, Josefine Bernhar-
dine Nilsson, who died very early in his life, Dreyer was adopted at the age of two
by Carl Theodor and Inger Marie Dreyer, and he assumed his new father’s name.
Thanks to his writing skills, he started a brilliant career as a journalist in the most
prestigious Danish papers (Berlingske Tindede and Politiken) before turning to
film. Because of a penchant for experimentation and innovation, Dreyer had dif-
ficulty raising funds for his film projects and was considered a risky director by
most producers, who could not be assured of a profitable financial outcome. As
a result, between 1913 and 1964 he shot only 15 feature films—very few when
compared with the number he conceived. This difficulty in finding funds for his
films led Dreyer to develop an international reputation as he traveled all over
Europe to direct movies in Sweden, Germany, Norway, and France as well as in
160 | Dreyer, Carl Theodor

Denmark. Unfortunately, he never managed to find money for his project of a film
on Jesus’ life.
Dreyer’s courageous journey into new styles and techniques made him one
of the very few authors who directed excellent sound films after an outstanding
career in silent movies. The first film to give him international celebrity was Blade
Af Satans Bog (Leaves from Satan’s Book, 1921), reminiscent of D. W. Griffith’s
Intolerance (1916); the plot is organized in four stories (Palestine, the Inquisition,
the French Revolution, and the Red Rose of Finland). Dreyer was less ideological
than Griffith, as Blade Af Satans Bog tells the story of intolerance focusing espe-
cially on the body and the soul of his characters, who express betrayal, supersti-
tion, and misunderstanding. The four episodes focus on Satan tempting human
beings. The narrative is less fragmented than Intolerance, with Satan present in
all four episodes. In other words, as a connecting element between the episodes,
Dreyer’s Satan is different from Griffith’s young mother, as he is a decisive actor
in the daily story of intolerance, while she represents the universal background; he
is a character internal to the stories, while she is an external element. For this rea-
son Blade Af Satans Bog more closely resembles F. W. Murnau’s Satanas (1920),
which is less familiar than Intolerance.
In 1926, after few successful films, the Societé Générale des Films invited
Dreyer to Paris, where he spent the following year and a half in shooting his silent
masterpiece: La Passion de Jeanne d’Arc (1928). This film is characterized by the
encounter of extremes, both in the making and in the plot. The static plot is shot in
an extraordinary (and sometimes imperceptibly) dynamic way; the silence of the
film contrasts with the verbal excess typical of a trial; the violence of the judges
contrasts with Jeanne’s harmlessness. Ultimately, the destruction of Jeanne affirms
her innocence and holiness. Especially in this last point one can see the difference
between Dreyer’s Joan of Arc and other representations of the heroine, particularly
in the influence of the Lutheran doctrine of the deus absconditus (the hidden God).
God is hidden in the helpless figure of Jeanne as the mob shouts “You killed a saint,”
just as the centurion under the cross said “Truly this man was the son of God.”
Another interesting aspect is what many critics define as the reduction of five
months of trial to the final day, which concludes with the Jeanne’s execution. It is
quite clear that Dreyer is not interested in the chronos of the trial but in the kairos
(the time of God); in other words, the viewer is not watching a chronicle of a his-
torical event but the eternal moment of the holy person persecuted by the unholy
ones, of the powerless one tortured by the powerful ones. In La Passion de Jeanne
d’Arc, Dreyer explores the link between the time of a movie and the time of God.
In fact, as the encounter with God is a suspension of the chronological stream of
events, likewise cinemagoers experience a similar suspension when they watch a
film (or when a story is being told or a book is read).
 Dreyer, Carl Theodor | 161

Unfortunately, La Passion de Jeanne d’Arc (together with Dreyer’s following

feature film) was a commercial failure, leading to yet more difficulty for Dreyer
in finding funds for his movies. Eventually returning to Denmark, he directed
Vredens Dag (Day of Wrath, 1943), a film set in a context of witch hunting in
the 17th-century Danish countryside. In Vredens Dag, Anne is the second wife
of Absalon, an old Lutheran minister who has a son (Martin) from his previous
marriage. Martin and Anne are approximately the same age. Merete, Absalon’s
mother, lives in the manse. All of Anne’s doubts about her relationship with Absa-
lon explode when she learns that her mother had been a witch and falls in love with
Martin. Dreyer’s preoccupation with contrasts continues in Vredens Dag, as Anne
develops her own witchcraft as a spontaneous and natural spirituality in opposi-
tion to the organized religion of rules and repression represented by Absalon and
Merete. Absalon’s religion acquires a magical value similar to Anne’s; he invisibly
“feeds” on her, absorbing her young, vital, and erotic potentials, just like a vam-
pire. (This vampiresque vision of organized religion continues to influence Danish
cinema, especially in the Dogme 95 movement.) It is the “religion of life” against
the “religion of death.” This is confirmed by Absalon’s death, which comes when
Anne states that she does not love him; when Absalon is denied access to Anne’s
vitality, youth, and eroticism, he cannot continue living. Unfortunately for Anne,
Absalon’s death does not save her but accelerates her own path toward death. She
does not fight the power and violence of organized religion but renounces all of-
fences, strongly affirming the organized vampirism of her enemies. In this attitude
she is very similar to Joan of Arc, who is not a warrior but a lamb led to slaughter;
yet Anne’s death does not reveal any hidden sanctity but is just the end of a fragile
life of one who opposed greater powers.
Vredens Dag was another commercial failure, causing Dreyer to temporar-
ily “migrate” to Sweden and, when he returned to Denmark, to shoot only short
documentaries. Another decade was to pass before Dreyer was able to direct his
spoken masterpiece, Ordet (The Word, 1955), based on the play by Kaj Munk. The
film is set at the beginning of the 20th century in rural Denmark; the protagonist
(Johannes) is the son of a farmer who, after studying Kierkegaard, behaves and
talks as if he were Jesus, weeping over the lack of faith among his family and his
fellow villagers. (The reference to Kierkegaard is very important; the Danish phi-
losopher focused on the importance of a spontaneous religiosity as opposed to an
established one.) Although Johannes is related to Dreyer’s previous protagonists
(Jeanne and Anne), he is quite different; he is not persecuted. Nobody wants to kill
him or to put him on trial. Nevertheless, he is already condemned, with no need of
a trial, since everyone regards him as alienated. Nobody seeks to kill him for the
“scandalous” things that he says; his words are somehow already “dead” and they
are simply ignored. Additionally, whereas the two women may be considered to
162 | Dreyer, Carl Theodor

be two “Christ-like” characters, Johannes directly refers to the words and deeds of
Jesus of Nazareth. The most significant difference is that Johannes does not fight
a violent religious establishment, which is either criminally linked with the politi-
cal power (La Passion de Jeanne d’Arc) or feeds off of spiritually oriented people
(Vredens Dag). In Ordet, the religious people are honest, even if naïve and blind.
The established church is more acceptable in Ordet than in Dreyer’s previous mov-
ies. Harsh criticism of two visions of church revival collapses in the presence of the
death of Inger (Johannes’s sister-in-law), while true unity (or redemption) comes
when she comes back to life. This “sign” is not the consequence of the little faith
of the great church but of the great faith of Inger’s little daughter in Johannes’s
power to save her mother from death. Again, Ordet was not a success at the box
office, although it was awarded the Golden Lion at the Venice Film Festival.
Dreyer’s importance does not lie only on his great masterpieces La Passion
de Jeanne d’Arc and Ordet but also on the influence he had on northern European
cinema. Often he is associated with Ingmar Bergman; the similarities between the
two can be seen mostly in the common milieu (Scandinavian Lutheranism) and
the influence on both authors of Strindberg’s Kammarspel. Their theological vi-
sions differ substantially. Dreyer presents a spontaneous spirituality that is totally
alien to Bergman’s understanding of faith and remains a humanist who brings a
universal message that is valid in the past, present, and future. Bergman’s vision
is directly related to the challenges of the 20th century. More obvious is Dreyer’s
legacy on the Danish Dogme 95 movement and on its founder and main represen-
tative, Lars von Trier.
Peter Ciaccio
See also: Bergman, Ingmar; Dogme 95; Europe (Continental); Trier, Lars von.

Further Reading
Dreyer, Carl Theodor. Carl Theodor Dreyer’s Jesus. New York: Dial Press, 1972.
Drouzy, Martin, and Lisbeth Nannestad Jørgensen, eds. Letters about the Jesus Film:
16 Years of Correspondence between Carl Th. Dreyer and Blevins Davis. Copenhagen:
University of Copenhagen, 1989.
Monty, I., ed. Carl Theodor Dreyer’s Jesus: A Great Filmmaker’s Final Masterwork. New
York: Dell, 1971.
O’Brien, Charles. “Rethinking National Cinema: Dreyer’s La Passion de Jeanne d’Arc and
the Academic Aesthetic.” Cinema Journal 35, no. 4 (1996): 3–30.
Schrader, Paul. Transcendental Style in Cinema: Ozu, Bresson, Dreyer. Berkeley: Univer-
sity of California Press, 1972.
Tybjerg, Casper. “Forms of the Intangible: Carl Th. Dreyer and the Concept of ‘Transcen-
dental Style.’ ” Northern Lights 6 (2008): 59–73.
 Dystopia | 163

Dystopia

It may seem odd to consider dystopia—an imagined place where everything is

negative/bad—alongside religion. Yet, the attempt to transform the ideals of faith
into a way of living is actually readily distorted by the dystopic genre, where
frequently a minority dictates the rules of society and attempts to force them on
others. The film based on Margaret Atwood’s 1985 novel The Handmaid’s Tale
perfectly illustrates the parallels detectable in religious and dystopian societies
by focusing on the corruption of religion by a minority to oppress the members of
society, particularly women. Examining the overt connection of dystopia and reli-
gion as represented in The Handmaid’s Tale (1990) provides a lens through which
to examine other films’ dystopian societies and their more implied religious links,
as in Nineteen Eighty-Four (1984) and Minority Report (2002).
The patriarchal authorities of the futuristic society of Gilead in The Hand-
maid’s Tale underpin their ideologies with a distortion of Old Testament scripture,
as the name of the society suggests. The aim of society to procreate in a relatively
infertile environment is blamed on women’s previous use of contraception and on
abortion but is quite likely due to environmental ruin. The ensuing surrogacy upon
which efforts to procreate are based finds a grounding in the surrogacy of Bilhah
in Genesis 30:1–3 (which is cited in the epigraph of Atwood’s novel):

And when Rachel saw that she bare Jacob no children, Rachel envied her sister;
and said to Jacob, Give me children or else I die. And Jacob’s anger was kindled
against Rachel; and he said, Am I in God’s stead, who hath withheld from thee
the fruit of the womb? And she said, Behold my maid Bilhah, go in unto her; and
she shall bear upon my knees, that I may also have children by her.

In the film, this part of scripture is read by the male prior to the institutional-
ized rape that occurs on the nights of the sex ceremony, where the Handmaid,
lying in the lap of the Wife of the husband, undergoes penetration. The whole so-
ciety is founded upon this manipulation of scripture. Women are classified accord-
ing to their ability to bear children: Handmaids as the young fertile women, Wives
as the older women married to men high in the hierarchy, Econowives as women
useful for domestic work, Aunts as trainers of Handmaids, and others who are cast
out to work in dangerous places. The strict regime forms a kind of distorted caste
system for both women and men, but the gender imbalance prevails in that it is
unquestionable that the older men might not be fertile.
In this society we thus see religion subsumed for the purposes of the state. The
young women are rounded up and sent off in cattle trucks, in an image eerily reso-
nant of the Holocaust, to the Red Centre, to be trained as Handmaids; they are told
164 | Dystopia

by the Aunts to “serve God and your country.” The Red Centre envelops prayers
to God and hymns in its socialization of these women and at the ceremony where
they are “ordained” Handmaids by a minister, he declares, “We pledge allegiance
to the Bible [. . .]. The Old Testament shall be our sole constitution [. . .]. I pro-
nounce you Handmaids.” The language here pertinently echoes U.S. nationalistic
ceremonies, pledging allegiance to a flag and having a constitution, but inserts the
Bible and Old Testament in these roles. It also echoes the marriage ceremony in
the final phrase, sealing religious and social positioning of the women.
There are further key scenes in the film that indicate the warped institutional-
ism of the Bible in Gilead, notably the idea of scapegoating in the Salvaging cere-
monies, the idea of a scapegoat as atonement for sins stemming from Leviticus 16.
These ceremonies function as a safety valve to let out the anger of the Handmaids
upon supposed criminals, where the women are made to partake in public execu-
tions of these victims of the Gileadean regime. “Crimes” might be “gender treach-
ery” (homosexuality in a time where procreation is paramount) or rape, though
such crimes, it is suggested, may well be fabricated in order to dispose of political
prisoners. For example, Deuteronomy 23:25 is invoked to substantiate putting to
death an alleged rapist of a Handmaid: “Suppose a man out in the countryside
rapes a girl who is engaged to someone else. Then only the man is to be put to
death.” As the man is killed in an hysterical frenzy instilled in the women, Ofglen,
a member of the underground resistance, secretly states to Offred, the central pro-
tagonist, that he was a political victim.
This rigidly structured society cannot sustain itself without breaking the rules,
even the men in the highest echelons, such as Offred’s owner, the Commander (her
name, like that of all Handmaids, indicating his ownership of her). There is a kind
of acceptable rule breaking in a secret microcosm, a place whose name, Jezebels,
again resonates with Old Testament implications, Jezebel being an insulting term
for a woman. Jezebels in Gilead is a secret prostitution den, a kind of nightclub
where women who have escaped the system are secretly permitted to work. The
nightclub is an echo of a regular club from the time before Gilead came into being,
making it current with the film’s mid-1980s date. The women who work here wear
old skimpy dresses, a remnant of the time before that draws a sharp contrast with
the current society, because in Gilead women wear habits according to their roles,
Handmaids red, Wives blue, Econowives grey, and so on. The Handmaids’ habits
are constructed to conceal their physique and sexual potential, rather like nuns’
habits or burkas. Like burkas or other forms of religiously sanctioned dress among
women, the concealment has a dual purpose: restriction and protection.
Foregrounding the possible connections between religion and dystopia so ex-
plicitly, The Handmaid’s Tale performs a critique of fundamentalism of any kind
and of empowerment of a minority manipulated to control the many. Through
 Dystopia | 165

its ideological machinations—the way the society is mediated—the dangers of

religious distortion and extremism are displayed also in Nineteen-Eighty Four, a
remake of 1984 (1956) based on George Orwell’s novel of the same name. In both
The Handmaid’s Tale and Nineteen Eighty-Four, access to language and informa-
tion is severely restricted, and there is a sense that language creates reality and sets
the limits of thought. This again is something of a distortion of extreme religion’s
restriction of freedom and its dependence usually on some form of scripture to
substantiate its ideals. Both films deal with the erasure of individualism in favor of
a collective subject to a higher power. Nineteen Eighty-Four is less overtly critical
of religion, yet the required worship of a dominant figure, Big Brother, resonates
with the worship of a deity, although the film’s more specific critique is of com-
munist societies, both producing a kind of theocracy. Members of the society are
expected to “love” Big Brother and not only to follow the rule, but also to have a
faith instilled in them for the leader of the corrupt system. The leader is never seen
by anyone in any way other than as an iconic image portrayed everywhere—in
screens in individuals’ homes, for example. His omniscience and omnipotence
(the all-seeing, all-knowing, all-powerful godlike figure) is exaggerated in the fact
that there are cameras throughout this society and in people’s homes; thus they can
be seen and controlled at virtually all times. Here we see the orderly imposition
of rules without a faith, rules attempting to produce a faith, in a corrupt inversion
of religious doctrines. The imposition of the ideology goes so far as to torture in-
dividuals until they believe—an inversion of the torture that those persecuted for
their beliefs can undergo.
As can be seen in each of these films, the dystopias raise the question of indi-
vidual freedom versus the following of orders imposed by a minority. Individual
freedom, destiny, and fate are topics with religious significance also raised by the
film Minority Report, where the prophetic visions of three individuals who can fore-
see murders are harnessed by Department of Precrime in 2054 in Washington, DC.
In acting to change the future based on the visions of the prophets—preventing
murders by imprisoning “perpetrators” before the crime—the police might be
seen as usurping the power of God. A murder-free city might be deemed a utopia
rather than a dystopia, but questions surrounding free will as constitutive to being
human are incorporated by the film. Notions of agency and of moral responsibil-
ity are pitted against the saving of lives. When it becomes clear that the future is
not preordained if the perpetrator of the murderer is forewarned of her or his own
crime and can choose not to kill the proposed victim, the pre-emptive saving of
lives becomes highly questionable. In addition, the treatment of the “precogni-
tives” (the prophets) themselves is problematic. These people are human but are
kept half alive, used merely as conduits for the crime predictions. As one character
states, it is better if they do not think of them as human, and near the close of the
166 | Dystopia

film, the central precognitive, Agatha, having been kidnapped by the lead charac-
ter to aid in his quest, states that she is neither dead nor alive.
As with The Handmaid’s Tale, Minority Report does foreground the reli-
gious usurpation of roles by individuals, though to a much lesser extent. For ex-
ample, the space in which the precognitives are kept is nicknamed the “temple” and
some members of the society have begun to deify them. One character points out
the need to believe in something now that science has taken away the notion of
miracles, suggesting that the precognitives give hope of the existence of the divine
and, as with all religious hierarchies, it is the priests (here the cops) who have the
power rather than the oracle itself. In response to this, one of the cops states they
are more like clergy than cops in the changing of destiny. The fact that humans
are ultimately in control of the system is what brings its downfall: the instigator of
precrime is found to have murdered Agatha’s mother in order to keep the system
intact and maintain his power. In some respects, he represents the overreacher, and
his power is imminently expanding as the system is about to go national following
a six-year trial in Washington, D.C.
Underlying each of these dystopian societies, then, is the religious motif of
good versus evil, of individual will versus fate and/or predestined constraint. Each
film possesses central protagonists morally at odds with the society in which they
find themselves. Such figures might be read as upholders of moral values in the face
of increasing secularization in Minority Report, or, in the case of The Handmaid’s
Tale, in the face of the distortion of religious ideals, and, in Nineteen Eighty-Four,
in the face of the building of a false theocracy. The films each stress the importance
of the Christian concept of free will in the composition of humanity and exhibit the
struggles that occur when this is threatened.
Julie Scanlon
See also: End-of-the-World Films; Horror; The Matrix Trilogy.

Further Reading
Griffiths, Paul J. “Orwell for Christians.” First Things: A Monthly Journal of Religion and
Public Life 148 (December 2004): 32–40.
Moylan, Tom. Scraps of the Untainted Sky: Science Fiction, Utopia, Dystopia. Boulder,
CO: Westview Press, 2000.
Torry, Robert. “Apocalypse Then: Benefits of the Bomb in Fifties Science Fiction Films.”
Cinema Journal 31, no. 1 (1991): 7–21.
Wanner, Adrian. “The Underground Man as Big Brother: Dostoevsky’s and Orwell’s Anti-
Utopia.” Utopian Studies 8, no. 1 (1997): 77–88.
E

End-of-the-World Films

Traditionally, the end of the world has been associated with the belief in God’s
coming judgment upon a sinful earth, in which fire rains from the sky, the sun and
moon are blotted out, and godless multitudes perish. The end of days has tended
to elicit images of doomed populations desperately praying for heaven to send
a savior, or of wretched hordes scratching for what little sustenance their bleak
“postapocalyptic” terrain can provide. Anguish, agony, torment, a world filled
with hopelessness and despair: these are the dramatic features that most end-time
films draw upon to excite, entertain, and instruct moviegoers.
Evil need not be divine or satanic to be destructive. Indeed, evil might be
embodied in a demented ecoterrorist, as in Twelve Monkeys (1995), a psychotic
spaceship computer programmer, as in The Apocalypse (1997), the end-time vi-
sions of a troubled teen, as in Donnie Darko (2001), an army of cyborgs, as in The
Terminator (1984) and its sequels (Terminator 2: Judgment Day [1991]; Termina-
tor 3: Rise of the Machines [2003]), or even in the misunderstanding and mistrust
among nuclear superpowers, as in Dr. Strangelove (1964)—or in any number of
science fiction films in which the trademark “mad scientist” unleashes misery and
death upon an unsuspecting world. Although the end of the world is a religious
belief, few films that depict world-ending disasters or near-disasters actually treat
identifiably religious concerns in their story lines. Often, the end of the world
becomes not the focus of the film but the setting through which many stories can
be told; a plot device, a vehicle that conveys a dramatic sense of urgency that
audiences immediately recognize and generally find appealing. It becomes the
perfect medium through which to examine timely issues and to exhibit the latest
in cinematographic effects.
Typically, films depicting the destruction of the world—whether by natural or
supernatural forces—are called “apocalyptic,” while those set in the aftermath of
a catastrophic event are labeled “postapocalyptic.” In both, the word apocalyptic

167
168 | End-of-the-World Films

is used metaphorically. Properly defined, an apocalypse is a type of revelatory lit-

erature (apocalypsis being Greek for “revelation” or “an unveiling”) whose source
of authority is divine or otherworldly. Although the context of the revelation may
include a prediction of the world’s destruction, additional features likewise define
this literary genre: the triumph of good over evil, the judgment of the wicked, the
dispensing of heavenly rewards and hellish punishments, and the restoration of
paradise. Other aspects that lend themselves to a filmmaker’s imagination include
signs of the last days, dreams and prophetic visions, angelic and demonic visita-
tions, a gathering of diabolic forces, heavenly warfare, and the revealing of cosmic
secrets, such as in the opening of heavenly seals or scrolls, as well as the appear-
ance a messianic figure, either to save the world from an Antichrist figure or to
bring about cosmic rebirth and renewal.
Much of this end-time imagery comes from the Bible, most notably from the
Book of Revelation (also titled The Apocalypse). Thematically, this text has proved
to be an abundant source of hope and horror for Christian and non-Christian film-
makers. The Book of Revelation relates the end-time vision of Jesus’ beloved dis-
ciple the Apostle John, whom the Roman authorities banished to the Greek island
of Patmos. In his vision, John is caught up (or “raptured”) to heaven, where he
beholds the future judgment and destruction of the world and the appearing of
Zion, the heavenly city come to Earth. After a series of disasters befall the Earth
and its people (called the Tribulation), the forces of good and evil array themselves
along the Plain of Megiddo (Armageddon) for the final battle. The Antichrist and
his armies are utterly destroyed by Christ and his divine forces. The text ends with
Satan being cast into the lake of fire and brimstone (Rev. 20:10) and with Christ
establishing his eternal kingdom in Jerusalem, the city of peace (Rev. 21:1–2).
The dwelling place of God is once more among his people, “and there shall be no
more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain, for
the former things are passed away” (Rev. 21:3, 4).
Over the past several decades, a small but influential number of Christian
films have sought to depict aspects of the Apostle John’s vision. Perhaps the best-
known example is A Thief in the Night (1972), a film widely viewed in evangelical
and fundamentalist churches. Thief follows the harrowing experiences of Patty
Myers, a lukewarm Christian who had scoffed at the idea of a coming Rapture. To
her shock and horror, the Rapture takes place as predicted: Patty’s husband and
other believers suddenly disappear, the Antichrist (the leader of the United Na-
tions, now called “United Nations Imperium of Total Emergency” or “UNITE”)
takes control of the Earth, and Patty is left behind to suffer through the Tribulation
while trying to elude UNITE’s evil agents. Though ponderous and preachy, Thief
proved effective as an evangelistic tool designed to reach young adults drifting
into the counterculture of the 1970s, inspiring three sequels, each following the
 End-of-the-World Films | 169

experiences of Patty and other persecuted Christians left behind to witness the un-
folding Apocalypse firsthand. These sequels included A Distant Thunder (1978; in
which Patty, captured and awaiting execution, remains ambivalent about commit-
ting her life to Christ); Image of the Beast (1980; which begins with Patty’s execu-
tion and continues the Tribulation saga in which it is revealed that the “Mark of the
Beast” [666] is none other than the UPC label [at that time newly introduced on
retail packaging]); and The Prodigal Planet (1983; which chronicles the desperate
last days of Antichrist’s rule).
Thief and its sequels went virtually unnoticed by mainstream American audi-
ences and critics during the 1970s and 1980s. However, several films produced
during this same period did attract secular as well as religious audiences. Chief
among them was The Late Great Planet Earth (1979), a documentary-style ren-
dering of Hal Lindsey’s best-selling prophecy book of the same title narrated by
actor and director Orson Welles. Lindsey’s book was essentially an updated inter-
pretation of the Book of Revelation, in which Lindsey argued that biblical prophe-
cies concerning the end times were being fulfilled. Although this film piqued some
interest (Lindsey’s book sold over 15 million copies during the 1970s), it would
not be until the 1990s that Christian end-time films would attract the attention of
the general viewing public.
In 1999, with the new millennium approaching, Trinity Broadcasting Network
(TBN) produced The Omega Code (1999), which capitalized on the popularity
of such best-selling books as The Bible Code (1998), and its apocalyptic sequel,
Bible Code II: The Countdown (2002). The film relates the pre-Rapture efforts of
sinister men seeking the code to unlock the sacred power of the Bible. Once dis-
covered, the Bible’s power could then be used to control the world. In the wrong
hands—say, the Antichrist’s—this power could be devastating. Surprisingly, The
Omega Code was a box office hit and was soon followed by the prequel Megiddo:
The Omega Code 2 (2001). In this film, the audience is taken back to the child-
hood of Stone Alexander, the future Antichrist, and David, his younger brother,
whose rivalry began when their mother died giving birth to David. After attempt-
ing to murder David and their father, Stone is sent off to military school, where he
is placed under the tutelage of “The Guardian,” an emissary of Satan. Although
Stone’s path leads him toward a military career, David is drawn into American
politics, soon becoming vice president. As leader of the European Union, Stone
seeks to unify and dominate the world, offering to engineer events to make his
younger brother president of the United States. Realizing that Stone is the proph-
esied Antichrist, David, now president, gathers a coalition of forces to stop his evil
brother. Bible prophecy is fulfilled when both armies engage at Megiddo.
What is interesting about this series and other overtly Christian films of the
period is their producers’ attempts to gain respectability for their films by putting
170 | End-of-the-World Films

recognizable actors on the marquee. Despite their best efforts, however, most or all
evangelical filmmakers have found their works panned by secular critics. None-
theless, contemporary Christian filmmakers have learned that, whether or not the
story line makes sense, it is not a movie unless someone dies or something gets
blown up.
Such is the case with Apocalypse III: Tribulation (2000; also known simply
as Tribulation), part of a series of four films (including Apocalypse: Caught in
the Eye of the Storm [1998]; Apocalypse II: Revelation [1999; also known simply
as Revelation], and Apocalypse IV: Judgment [2001; also known simply as Judg-
ment]), written and produced by Canadian televangelistic doomsayers Paul and
Peter Lalonde, which anticipates the success of the Left Behind films. Although
Tribulation sought to cross over into the secular market, the film basically re-
hearsed much of the same prophetic and personalized terror covered in A Thief
in the Night. Like Thief, in the Apocalypse series the focus is on the aftermath of
the Rapture. Here, the Antichrist rules the world through a United Nations–style
organization called O.N.E. (One Nation Earth) aimed at consolidating political
and military power. Much of the action focuses on a cat-and-mouse game between
O.N.E. agents and the “left behind” Christians (and their new converts, known as
the Haters), whom the Antichrist seeks to round up and eliminate.
Currently, the best-known and most successful end-time film franchise has
been Left Behind, based on a popular series of fictionalized accounts of the Trib-
ulation period authored by evangelist Tim LaHaye and Jerry B. Jenkins, with
screenplays by the Lalonde brothers. Left Behind: The Movie (2000) revolves
around Buck Williams, a secular TV journalist trying to make sense first of the
sudden disappearance of millions (the Rapture) and then of the ominous signs that
point to the rise of a world dictator (the Antichrist). In the sequel, Left Behind II:
Tribulation Force (2002), Buck and the three main protagonists finally get what’s
going on and “get religion.” Calling themselves the “Tribulation Force,” they seek
to warn the world of the demonic power behind the leader of the United Nations,
the rising Antichrist. Left Behind: World at War (2005) continued this fictionalized
chronicle of Earth’s last days.
It would be easy to dismiss these end-time films and every other movie that
gives credence to the prophecy beliefs of conservative Protestants were it not for
the release of The Rapture (1991), written and directed by Michael Tolkin. Al-
though The Rapture may not actually have given respectability to films featuring
fundamentalist teachings about the end of the world, its dark and psychologically
disturbing treatment of end-time beliefs did give audiences a moment’s reflec-
tive pause. The Rapture, which presents Bible prophecy and end-time belief in
matter-of-fact fashion, follows the personal and spiritual transformation of Sha-
ron, a telephone operator who seeks to escape the boredom of life through sexual
 End-of-the-World Films | 171

pleasure. All is well until Sharon meets Jesus and becomes a devout Christian. Up
to this point in the story, The Rapture seems to be just an “R” rated version of an
evangelical film about religious conversion.
But this is not an evangelistic film about finding God. Rather, it is about the
irrationality of faith and the extremes to which religious fanaticism can lead. Here,
we do not witness the transformation of a woman from sinner to saint. Instead,
we witness a woman’s descent into religious madness—or rather, a person’s slow
seething hatred of God for the evils He allows to befall her. Sharon’s otherwise
uninteresting conversion to evangelical Christianity takes a distressing turn when
Randy, her equally devout husband, is brutally murdered. Faith-shaken and dis-
oriented by her loss, Sharon retreats to the desert with her daughter to await the
coming Rapture. What appears to viewers as utter madness—she shoots her young
daughter to hasten her reunion with her father in the afterlife—takes an unexpected
turn when the Rapture then does take place. Suspended between heaven and hell in
a Bergmanesque landscape, Sharon is invited by God and her pleading family to
join them in heaven. With teeth-gnashing defiance, Sharon refuses, preferring to
live in the darkness of hell rather than spend an eternity in the presence of a God
whom she thoroughly despises. Although The Rapture is not a religious film, it
does appear to stand between Christian films that seek to evangelize audiences and
secular films that draw upon end-time themes to give moviegoers a good scare.
Around the same time that evangelical filmmakers were setting the Apocalypse
to celluloid, secular filmmakers began to draw upon end-time themes to frighten
their audiences. Although The Exorcist (1973) is an example of a films in which good
battles against demonic forces, the most prevalent examples of apocalyptic films
concern the Antichrist, an evil force often depicted as the spawn of Satan. One of the
best-known films in this category is Rosemary’s Baby (1968), about the unexplained
events that accompany Rosemary and Guy Woodhouse, a young couple who have
just moved into a Manhattan apartment complex next to an unusual elderly couple.
Strange things begin to happen; after Rosemary experiences an unsettling dream in
which she is raped by some sort of beast, she discovers that she is expecting a child.
But this is no ordinary pregnancy and certainly no ordinary child.
Although the connection in Rosemary’s Baby between Rosemary’s demon
child and the coming Antichrist is not direct, the film did inspire a number of simi-
lar “son of Satan” sagas, including the Omen trilogy (possibly the most sinister),
which bears the closest resemblance to the evangelical and fundamentalist under-
standing of the rise of the Antichrist. The Omen trilogy, with a preview tagline
“you are one day closer to the end of the world,” concerns the childhood (Omen
[1976]), adolescence (Damien: Omen II [1978]), and young adulthood (Omen III:
The Final Conflict [1981]) of Damien, the Antichrist, as well as the evil that be-
falls all who cross his path. In the third film of the trilogy, Christ returns to earth
172 | End-of-the-World Films

as a child whose destiny it is to destroy Damien. In most of these types of films

good does ultimately triumph over evil, but in this case heaven’s victory may not
be complete. When Omen III ends, the audience is left wondering if the Antichrist
may yet return to complete his wicked plans. In fact, a decade later, in the made-
for-television movie, Omen IV: The Awakening (1991), the Antichrist does return,
but this time as a little girl.
Apart, however, from religious films that attempt to dramatize the end-time
prophecies of the Bible and secular films that trade on themes associated with
the end of days, almost all other films that would be typed as apocalyptic or po-
stapocalyptic are merely a hybrid of the conventional disaster movie. Indeed, the
shock and awe of the world’s destructive end becomes the context into which film-
makers can place any number of film types. Some are set in the moments before the
catastrophe occurs and are usually intended as cautionary tales. More often, how-
ever, the story is set in the aftermath of a devastating event, a “postapocalyptic”
landscape replete with roving bands of outlaws or flesh-eating mutants terroriz-
ing a frightened population. Specific examples of pre- or postnuclear disaster
settings—of varying levels of sophistication—include the classic The Day the Earth
Stood Still (1951) as well as other great films such as On the Beach (1959), Fail-
Safe (1964), and the Planet of the Apes series (Planet of the Apes [1968]; Beneath
the Planet of the Apes [1970]; Escape from Planet of the Apes [1971]; Conquest of
Planet of the Apes [1972]; Battle for the Planet of the Apes [1973]) as well as later
films like WarGames (1983), The Apocalypse, and The Postman (1997), among
many others. Perhaps the best-known “postnuke” films are in the Mad Max/Road
Warrior trilogy (Mad Max [1979]; Mad Max 2 [1981; also known as The Road
Warrior]; Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome [1985]). Some films (like The Shep-
herd [1999; also known as Cybercity]) draw upon specific religious themes, while
others (like Offret [The Sacrifice, 1986], in which a man offers himself to God in
exchange for his son’s safety and to protect the planet from a nuclear holocaust)
are overtly religious. Other films fall generally under the heading of biological
disaster or epidemic plague films (also pre- and postapocalyptic); closely related
are films that concern coming environmental, astronomical, climatic, reproduc-
tive, or other looming disasters and their catastrophic effects on humanity. Even
An Inconvenient Truth (2006) fits this category, with former Vice President Al
Gore effectively recast in the role of doomsday prophet. But whether the impend-
ing disaster is an approaching asteroid, a spreading alien virus, an evil villain with
a nuclear or biohazardous device, a superpower arms race gone awry, renegade
angels wreaking havoc on Earth, the accidental unsealing of a prophetic book, the
cataclysmic results of environmental changes, or technology run amok, the story
line is essentially the same: unless a solution is found or a savior appears, the
world as we know it will cease to exist.
 End-of-the-World Films | 173

Fritz Lang’s classic Metropolis (1927), set in the year 2000, inspired a number of
later futuristic films that consider the benefits and detriments of technology. In the
years between the world wars, technology comes to the rescue of war-devastated
world in Things to Come (1936). However, in the Cold War and postmodern
periods, films such as Colossus: The Forbin Project (1970), Demon Seed (1977)—
featuring a frisky computer and a scientist’s soon-to-be-pregnant wife—The Ter-
minator series, and The Matrix trilogy (The Matrix [1999], The Matrix Reloaded
[2003], and The Matrix Revolutions [2003]) depict humanity’s heroic fight against
anthropomorphized technologies that seek to enslave or exterminate mankind. In
the latter two, there is also a strong a messianic component.
Thus, in comparing films that portray the Apocalypse with those normally
referred to as “apocalyptic”—whether nuclear, biological, environmental, or
technological—it is apparent that apocalyptic fiction films are not apocalyptic in the
true sense of the word (revelatory) but only as the term is applied metaphorically.
In most cases, overtly religious themes and revelatory elements of these end-of-
the-world films have been abandoned in favor of quasi-religious allusions. Angels
and demons have been replaced with extraterrestrial beings. Satan has become a
sinister force or an evil presence. Otherworldly journeys have been replaced with
space and time travel. Eschatological judgment has been replaced with world-
ending catastrophes. The persecuted faithful have been transformed into an un-
derground resistance movement or a small band of freedom fighters. And, while
visions and dreams that portend end have remained, these are usually attributed to
a psychological disorder or ESP. Indeed, had St. John lived in our time, his vision
might very well have relied upon the staples of science fiction for its inspiration.
As in his revelation, the moral of these end-of-the-world films is clear: although
the heavens may fall and the world be consumed by evils too horrible to imagine,
the human spirit remains indomitable. In the end, love and justice—backed by
plenty of firepower—will always triumph over hatred and evil.
Jon R. Stone
See also: Devil; Dystopia; Horror; The Matrix Trilogy; Protestantism; Science
Fiction; Tolkin, Michael.

Further Reading
Lamm, Robert. “Can We Laugh at God: Apocalyptic Comedy in Film.” Journal of Popular
Film and Television 19, no. 2 (1991): 81–90.
Lindvall, Terry, and J. Dennis Bounds. “The Late Great Planet Hollywood: The Apocalyp-
tic Imagination in Popular Film.” Christianity and the Arts 6 (Fall 1999): 31–34.
Mitchell, Charles P. A Guide to Apocalyptic Cinema. London: Greenwood, 2001.
174 | Eucatastrophe

Newman, Kim. Apocalypse Movies: End of the World Cinema. New York: St. Martin’s/
Griffin, 1999.
Stone, Jon R. “A Fire in the Sky: Apocalyptic Themes on the Silver Screen.” In God in the
Details: American Religion in Popular Culture, edited by Eric Michael Mazur and Kate
McCarthy, 65–82. New York: Routledge, 2001.
Strug, Cordell. “Apocalypse Now What?: Apocalyptic Themes in Modern Movies.” Word
and World 15, no. 2 (1995): 159–165.

Eucatastrophe

A neologism coined by author J.R.R. Tolkien, this term refers to a joyful turn in a
narrative when all seems lost, often taking the form of a consoling, happy ending.
Tolkien connected eucatastrophe to glimpses of the Christian Gospel (“the Great
Eucatastrophe”) and the outlook that, ultimately, the world is not doomed but des-
tined for restoration. Eucatastrophe in film privileges the creation of authentic
happiness above other objectives, such as realism or iconoclasm. Its use implic-
itly suggests that joy is something
humans can hope to experience
despite otherwise bleak circum-
stances. The concept is increas-
ingly used in religious reflections
on film.
The term likely entered popular
consciousness through Time maga-
zine’s article “Eucatastrophe,” on
September 17, 1973, which used
Tolkien’s own oft-quoted defini-
tion: “a catch of breath, a beat
and lifting of the heart, a pierc-
ing glimpse of joy and heart’s de-
sire.” In addition to its ubiquity in
popular discussions of faith and
film, the concept also resonates
with many academic approaches
to religion and culture. It has been
British author and Oxford University professor discussed in relation to Irenaeus of
J.R.R. Tolkien, 1967. AP Photo. Lyons’s treatment of Christ’s life as
 Eucatastrophe | 175

“recapitulation” or reworking of cosmic history, the symbolic redemptive pattern

identified in Carl Jung’s psychology, the theme of longing for paradise described
in Mircea Eliade’s work on primitive religion, the “rescue from without” of Joseph
Campbell’s work on mythology, and the yearning for meaning in the existential
therapy of Viktor Frankl.
Eucatastrophe is not synonymous with deus ex machina (literally “god in the
machine”), which is an implausible or inept plot device used to escape a story-
line quagmire, nor is it used merely for commercial appeal. Rather, eucatastrophe
makes the bold claim that the arc of human history ultimately curves toward jus-
tice, restoration, and hope. From this perspective, rescue comes not from a conve-
niently inserted god but is part of the very fabric of a fictive world. The approach is
easily distinguished from films that seek to demonstrate the gritty reality of human
existence, such as one might find in film noir.
Cinematic eucatastrophe confronts viewers’ assumptions by asking them to
entertain an outlook of hope, at least for the duration of a film. When this is effec-
tive, audience members cannot respond dispassionately; they must either indulge
the joyful sense of meaning presented or scoff with cynical disdain.
Although eucatastrophe need not be understood in terms of Christianity, Tol-
kien made an explicit connection to the Gospels, arguing in his essay “On Fairy
Stories” that the birth of the Christ was the eucatastrophe of human history and the
Resurrection was the eucatastrophe of the Christ narrative. In reply to the charge
that eucatastrophe involves mere escapism, Tolkien differentiated two kinds of
escape. During war, he argued, deserters wrongly escape a just battle but prisoners
of war rightly escape from prisons. Narrative escape, therefore, is a healthy form
of escape, since it attempts to break free from hopeless perspectives.
Given the term’s origins, obvious instances of eucatastrophe occur in the Lord
of the Rings films, directed by Peter Jackson. Examples include Arwen’s magical
rescue and restoration of the wounded Frodo in Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship
of the Ring (2001), Gandalf’s “unlooked for” return with a rescuing cavalry in
Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (2002), and the culmination of the whole tale
in Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King (2003).
Often influenced by Tolkien’s work (directly or indirectly), fantasy films lend
themselves to eucatastrophe. This is primarily because audiences are expecting
to suspend disbelief—and cynicism with it. Examples of eucatastrophe in fantasy
films include Neo’s death and resurrection in The Matrix (1999) and the
destruction of the Death Star in Star Wars (1977). The cinematic adaptation of
C. S. Lewis’s 1950 classic novel The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe: A Story for
Children (The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, 2005)
provides further examples.
176 | Eucatastrophe

Eucatastrophe is not restricted to fantasy. For example, unanticipated grace

is well depicted in O Brother, Where Art Thou? (2000), when Everett, the hero
who is not only (as he sings several times) “a man of constant sorrows” but also
a model of Homer’s Odysseus, escapes from prison, is pursued by the authori-
ties, and faces numerous trials throughout, only to be pardoned for his help in a
political campaign and is literally washed clean in a salvific flood. Tom Tykwer’s
Lola rennt (Run Lola Run, 1998) provides another example in its “final ending,”
in which a woman races to save her beloved. After a desperate prayer, she not only
experiences death’s reversal but also a blessing that exceeds anything she could
have anticipated. The ending of The Shawshank Redemption (1994) provides a
further example, when the innocent protagonist/prisoner tunnels underground to
escape prison and flees to paradise.
In each example, the good fortune of seemingly doomed characters makes the
narratives scandalous (in the same sense that the Resurrection was a scandal in the
early Christian church). However, simply far-fetched success of a protagonist does
not suffice. Thus, eucatastrophe is rarely achieved when studios append happy
endings to plots, hoping to make them palatable to general audiences. Such films
rarely make a larger claim about the ultimate meaning of existence. Examples of
happy endings that are not eucatastrophic abound in the dénouement of formulaic
action films and teen romance movies.
Effective eucatastrophe often retains elements of tragedy and the memory of
sorrow. An acute example of this occurs in The Return of The King, in which,
though Frodo has saved Middle Earth from the evil army of Sauron and has been
saved from death by eagles, he is so scarred by his life’s events that he cannot fully
enjoy existence in his old home. Thus, eucatastrophe does not deny suffering and
evil (what Tolkien called dyscatastrophe) but rather denies its ultimate victory. For
this reason, eucatastrophic films sometimes provide glimpses of ultimate hope
rather than a direct representation of the world’s end.
As the literature on faith and film grows, the discussion of eucatastrophe will
likely increase. Already, the term has been used in popular and scholarly essays
to refer to everything from the “environmental eucatastrophe” in Final Fantasy:
The Spirits Within (2001) to the upset of the New York Yankees by the Boston Red
Sox in the 2004 World Series. Actual occurrences of eucatastrophe will depend
on larger cultural and intellectual trends. Arguably, its frequency in North Ameri-
can cinema is cyclical. Yet even in periods saturated with irony and gloom, films
including eucatastrophe are likely to emerge as long as sparks of hope remain
among writers, directors, and audiences.
Jeffrey Mallinson
See also: Belief; Capra, Frank; Coen, Joel and Ethan; The Matrix Trilogy.
 Europe (Continental) | 177

Further Reading
Garbowski, Christopher. Spiritual Values in Peter Jackson’s The Lord of the Rings. Lub-
lin: Maria Curie-Sklodowska University Press, 2005.
Mallinson, Jeffrey. “A Potion too Strong?: Challenges in Translating the Religious Sig-
nificance of Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings to Film.” Journal of Religion and Popular
Culture 1 (Spring 2002): http://www.usask.ca /relst /jrpc/article-tolkien.html.
Montgomery, J. W., ed. Myth, Allegory, and Gospel: An Interpretation of J.R.R. Tolkien,
C. S. Lewis, G. K. Chesterton, Charles Williams. Minneapolis: Bethany, 1974.
Tolkien, J.R.R. “On Fairy-Stories.” In The Tolkien Reader, edited by J.R.R. Tolkien, 33–90.
New York: Ballantine, 1966.

Europe (Continental)

The countries of Europe have produced films that draw not only from a collective
history but also from particular national religious patterns. In the Scandinavian
countries, films and filmmakers have been influenced by Lutheran theological and
philosophical trends, which have lent many of their films an almost existential air,
while in the Mediterranean countries, one of the most significant influences has
been the Roman Catholic Church. In the heart of the European continent, where
different religious traditions have come in close contact, many of the films reflect
the struggle of identity in confrontation.
In Denmark, filmmaker Carl Theodor Dreyer, raised Lutheran, set the tone by
suffusing his films with spirituality. The silent film La Passion de Jeanne d’Arc
(The Passion of Joan of Arc, 1928) is a straightforward account of the trial of Joan
of Arc but was censored by the Catholic Church in France and banned in England.
Vrendens dag (Day of Wrath, 1943), set during the 17th century, tells the story of
a woman who is tried and burned as a witch after her pastor husband dies. And
Ordet (The Word, 1955), based on the 1925 play by Kaj Munk, is about a man
who believes he is Christ; no one takes him seriously until he begins to perform
miracles. Other filmmakers have followed in Dreyer’s footsteps, creating personal
works with religious overtones. Bille August, born 60 years after Dreyer, directed
Pelle erobreren (Pelle the Conqueror, 1987), a classic example of a morality tale
about a Job-like character who, despite all of his misfortunes, remains selfless
and loving. August also directed Den goda viljan (Best Intentions, 1992)—based
on the lives of Ingmar Bergman’s parents—about the trials and tribulations of a
poor theology student and his rich wife, and Jerusalem (1996), another story of
hardship and disillusionment about a town that becomes divided after a preacher
convinces some of the inhabitants to leave behind their worldly possessions and
178 | Europe (Continental)

go on a pilgrimage to Israel to build a new Jerusalem. Gabriel Axel’s Babettes

gaestebud (Babette’s Feast, 1987), critically acclaimed on both sides of the
Atlantic, is set during the 19th century and centers on two elderly spinsters—who
have upheld the religious ways of their father—and a French woman who prepares
for them a sumptuous feast that not only makes them reconsider their austere
lives but the meaning of life itself. Arguably the most important Danish filmmaker
working today is Lars von Trier, a convert to Catholicism, whose films question
the very nature of faith. In Riget and Riget II (The Kingdom and The Kingdom II,
1994; 1997), the miniseries he directed for the Danish Broadcasting Company, he
explores death and the world that exists beyond it, and in his Oscar-award winning
Breaking the Waves (1996) he takes his heroine, Bess, on a journey of love, faith,
suffering, and ultimately redemption.
In Sweden, Ingmar Bergman has served as the model of the quintessential
religiophilosopher, relying on allegory and symbolism in his early films. Many of
the dozens of films he directed over the course of his career can serve to provide
insight into humanity’s inner life. In Det Sjunde Inseglet (The Seventh Seal, 1957),
considered by many to be his masterpiece, a knight returning from the Crusades is
challenged by Death to a game of chess. Jungfrukallan (The Virgin Spring, 1960)
explores a “universe in which God understands the vengeance of the righteous
and forgives it,” while three other films form a “crisis of faith” trilogy: Såsom i en
spegel (Through a Glass Darkly, 1961), Nattvardsgästerna (Winter Light, 1962),
and Tystnaden (The Silence, 1963). Following in Bergman’s footsteps, Lasse Hall-
strom directed Chocolat (2000), an overtly religious film that explores the strug-
gle between the patriarchal church and the more free-spirited feminine sense of
spirituality.
The portrayal of religion has developed significantly differently in Italy, where
many of the films have taken a more tradition-based approach. Filmmaker Roberto
Rossellini, who began his career making wartime films, did not turn to overtly
religious subjects until the end of the 1940s. In Il Miracolo (The Miracle, 1948),
a film on which he collaborated with Federico Fellini, a peasant woman believes
that she is carrying a holy child. Another Fellini collaboration, Francesco, guil-
lare di Dio (The Flowers of St. Francis, 1950), examines the life of St. Francis of
Assisi and his acolytes. And like Dreyer, Rossellini found inspiration in the story
of Joan of Arc, making Giovanna d’Arco al Rogo (Joan of Arc at the Stake, 1954).
At the end of his career, he explored the life of St. Augustine in a televised ver-
sion of Agostino di Ippone (Augustine of Hippo, 1972). Fellow Italian Vittorio
de Sica, after gaining considerable acclaim for Ladri di Biciclette (The Bicycle
Thief, 1948), directed Miracolo a Milano (Miracle in Milan, 1951), a fable about
heavenly intervention. Pier Paolo Pasolini—although basically an unbeliever—
was preoccupied with the nature of belief, and his Mamma Roma (1962)—which
 Europe (Continental) | 179

was banned as immoral—mingles eroticism with Catholicism. For Il vangelo sec-

ondo Matteo (The Gospel According to St. Matthew, 1964), he lifted dialogue
directly from the Christian scripture; he then interpreted medieval morality tales in
Il Decameron (The Decameron, 1971), Racconti di Canterbury (The Canterbury
Tales, 1972), and Il fiore delle mille e una notte (Arabian Nights, 1974).
Similarly, a number of notable Spanish films have addressed religion in its
tradition-based and institutional forms. Luis Buñuel, best known for collaborat-
ing with Salvador Dali for cinematic exercises in Surrealism, by midcareer had
turned his attention to films with more of a religious bent, including Nazarín
(1959), which portrays a wandering priest encountering incidents from the Gos-
pels, Simón del desierto (Simon of the Desert, 1965), which focuses on Christian
ascetic Simon Stylites, who spent nearly 40 years perched on a pedestal, and La
Voie Lactee (The Milky Way, 1969), which follows a couple of tramps on a pil-
grimage. Fellow Spaniard and controversial filmmaker Pedro Almodovar mined
experiences from his youth of being sexually abused by local priests for La Mala
educación (Bad Education, 2004), and created a zany story about a nightclub
singer who seeks shelter at the Convent of Humble Redeemers in Entre Tinieblas
(Dark Habits, 1983). Despite the seeming similarity to Sister Act (1992), it is un-
likely that one will encounter nuns such as these in any other film. And Alejandro
Amenabar, who was born in Chile but raised in Spain, examines the afterlife in
the Gothic ghost tale The Others (2001), while in Mar Adentro (The Sea Inside,
2004), based on the true story of Ramon Sampedro, he tackles the moral dilemmas
of euthanasia and the right to die.
The rich and dramatic history of the Catholic Church in France seems to have
had an effect on French filmmakers. Director Robert Bresson, among the most no-
table of these, can be seen as a Catholic filmmaker in every sense of the term. His
films explore every facet of religiosity, usually within the confines of a religious
institution. Les anges du péché (Angels of the Streets, 1943) takes place in a nun-
nery, and Journal d’un curé de campagne (Diary of a Country Priest, 1951) ex-
amines the life and death of a priest. Even films such as Un condamné à mort s’est
échappé ou Le vent soufflé où il veut (A Man Escaped, or The Wind Bloweth Where
it Listeth, 1956), which takes place in a prison cell, and Au hasard Balthazar (Bal-
thazar, 1966), in which a donkey (named after one of the Three Wise Men) stars
in a parable about man’s aptitude for cruelty and love, demonstrate the possibility
of faith. In his later years, Bresson remained preoccupied with morality, directing
L’Argent (Money, 1983), which explores how sin manages to affect even the inno-
cent. His work also mines French history, giving audiences yet another look at the
female saint in Procès de Jeanne d’Arc (Trial of Joan of Arc, 1962).
Other French directors have approached traditional forms of religion, often
turning to the lives of the saints and religious figures for inspiration. Maurice
180 | Europe (Continental)

Cloche’s Monsieur Vincent (1947) is the true story of a 17th-century priest who
encouraged aristocrats to give to the poor, while Maurice Pialat’s Sous le Soleil de
Satan (Under the Sun of Satan, 1987), portrays a troubled priest caught between
good and evil. Jean-Luc Godard courts controversy by giving the Virgin Birth a
modern setting in “Je vous salue, Marie” (Hail Mary, 1985), Alain Cavalier takes
on the subject of St. Thérèse of Liseux in Thérèse (1986), and in Le Fabuleaux
Destin d’Amelie Poulain (The Fabulous Destiny of Amelie Poulain, 2001), the lead
character is inspired by the death of Lady Diana to make the world a better place.
In Marcel Carne’s film La Merveilleuse Visite (The Marvelous Visit, 1974), based
on H. G. Wells’s novel (The Wonderful Visit, 1895), an angel comes to Earth and
provokes only hostility and unhappiness. Following his fellow Frenchman Robert
Bresson, Luc Besson also interpreted the story of Jeanne d’Arc with The Mes-
senger: The Story of Joan of Arc (1999), and has developed other saving heroines,
such as the female lead in The Fifth Element (1997), whose mission it is to save the
world. Jean-Jacques Annaud made several films with a religious setting, including
Der Name der Rose (The Name of the Rose, 1986), based on Umberto Eco’s 1980
novel whose hero is a sleuthing Franciscan monk.
Similarly, in Poland, filmmaker Krzysztof Kieślowski found inspiration in the
Bible. Of his Trois couleurs films, Rouge (Three Colors: Red, 1994) covers more
traditionally religious ground, exploring the themes of faith and destiny. But he
tackled the Ten Commandments in his Dekalog television series (1989), letting
each film explore a commandment, and although he left behind a religious trilogy
when he died, German filmmaker Tom Tykwer completed Heaven (2002), and
Bosnian director Danis Tanovic finished the second, l’Enfer (Hell, 2005), leaving
only Purgatory unfilmed.
In Germany, Werner Herzog has used both documentarian and feature film-
making skills to explore religious tradition in such films as Aguirre, der Zorn
Gottes (Aguirre: The Wrath of God, 1972), about a conquistador on a maddened
quest for gold, and Jeder fur Sich un Gott Gegen Alle (Every Man for Himself and
God Against All, also known as The Enigma of Kaspar Hauser, 1974), a mod-
ern fable about a holy innocent. Dusseldorf-born Wim Wenders explores what is
meant to be human through the eyes of an angel in Der Himmel uber Berlin (The
Skies Over Berlin, also known as Wings of Desire, 1989; remade as City of Angels,
1998). The long-awaited sequel, In weiter Ferne, so nah! (Faraway, So Close!,
1993) proved to be a considerable disappointment.
With the German Occupation in the rearview mirror, several filmmakers have
re-examined World War II, including French directors such as Louis Malle, who
drew on his own childhood for Au Revoir Les Enfants (1987), François Truffaut,
who directed Le Dernier Metro (The Last Metro, 1981), Claude Lanzmann, who
produced the documentary Shoah (1985), a nine-hour meditation on the Holocaust,
 Europe (Continental) | 181

and Jean-Pierre Melville, whose film Léon Morin, prête (The Forgiven Sinner,
1961) recounts the tale of a priest living during World War II France. Polish di-
rector Roman Polanski turned to the biography of Wladyslaw Szpilman, a Polish
Jew who survived the Nazis, for his critically acclaimed film The Pianist (2002),
while fellow Polish director Agnieszka Holland, born to a Catholic mother and a
Jewish father, explores the collision of religion and politics in society in such films
as Bittere Ernte (Angry Harvest, 1986), which examines the World War II-era
relationship of a Jew and a Catholic, and Europa, Europa (1991), in which a Jew
escapes harm by joining the Hitler Youth. Finally, Italian director de Sica directed
Il Giardino dei Finzi-Contini (The Garden of the Finzi-Continis, 1970), about a
Jewish-Italian family during World War II.
Generally Jews and Judaism have been handled gingerly in Germany; Swiss
filmmaker Dani Levy’s critically acclaimed comedy Alles auf Zucker! (Go for
Zucker!, 2004) therefore stands out, poking fun at Jews and non-Jews alike. An
earlier film, Meschugge (Don’t, 1998), covered less comical territory, and drew
the lead characters back to 1940s Germany. But German directors have also ex-
plored this aspect of their history, with films such as Volker Schlöndorff’s Der
Unhold (The Ogre, 1996), an adaptation of Michel Tournier’s 1970 fable-like
novel Le Roi des Aulnes, about a man used by the Nazis to round up young boys,
and Der Junge Törless (Young Torless, 1966), an adaptation of Robert Musil’s
1906 novel about a Jewish lad whose torture and humiliation is overlooked by his
classmates.
Not all European films addressing religion are so preoccupied with Christi-
anity and World War II. Some, like French filmmaker Claude Berri’s Mazel Tov
au le Mariage (Marry Me! Marry Me!, 1969), about a poor Jewish Frenchman
who falls in love with a rich Jewish Belgian, take a lighter approach. Others have
looked beyond the western religious traditions and explored Buddhism, includ-
ing Italian filmmaker Bernardo Bertolucci, whose film Little Buddha (1994) al-
ternates between a fantastic biography of Siddhartha and the modern story of a
boy thought to be a reincarnated Tibetan lama; Jean-Jacques Annaud, whose film
Seven Years in Tibet (1997) retells the story of ace mountaineer Heinrich Harrer,
who befriends a young Dalai Lama; and Werner Herzog, a German filmmaker
whose documentary Wheel of Time (2003) examines one of the largest Buddhist
rituals in Bodh Gaya, India. Herzog also explores aboriginal beliefs and the clash
with nonaboriginal cultures in Wo die grünen Ameisen träumen (Where the Green
Ants Dream, 1984).
Almost reassuringly, European filmmakers have also produced their share of
dark psychological thrillers, most notably those of the Polish-born director Roman
Polanski, who pursued a penchant for the diabolical most profoundly in Rose-
mary’s Baby (1968), adapted from Ira Levin’s 1967 novel about a woman who is
182 | Europe (Continental)

the target of a satanic cult, and The Ninth Gate (1999), about a rare book dealer
searching for a 17th-century satanic text.
Julien R. Fielding
See also: Bergman, Ingmar; Besson, Luc; Bresson Robert; Buñuel, Luis;
Catholicism; Clergy; Dreyer, Carl Theodor; Fellini, Federico; Horror; Joan of Arc;
Judaism; Kieślowski, Krzysztof; The Miracle Controversy; Pasolini, Pier Paolo;
Trier, Lars von; Truffaut, François.

Further Reading
Falkowska, Janina. “Religious Themes in Polish Cinema.” In The New Polish Cinema,
edited by Janina Falkowska and Marek Haltof, 65–80. Wiltshire, UK: Flick Books,
2003.
Pasolini, Pier Paolo. “The Catholic Irrationalism of Fellini,” translated by Frank and Pina
Demers. Film Criticism 11, nos. 1–2 (1986–1987): 190–200.
Sorlin, Pierce. “Jewish Images in the French Cinema of the 1930s.” Historical Journal of
Film, Radio, and Television 1, no. 2 (1981): 139–150.
Wright, Rochelle. The Visible Wall: Jews and Other Ethnic Outsiders in Swedish Film.
Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1998.
F

Fellini, Federico (1920–1993)

Federico Fellini, Italy’s most important director, has been called the world’s great-
est filmmaker. The quintessential auteur, Fellini’s work is synonymous with the
“art film.” His uncanny insight into the human condition and unique comic vision
have worked together to yield films that stand among the strangest and most mem-
orable in the history of cinema, European or otherwise. Fellini’s films are infused
with an odd, often grotesque commingling of sex, humor, politics, and, repeatedly,
religion, specifically the Catholicism of his background. So influential has been
his style and imagery that the adjective Fellinian (or Felliniesque) has come to
connote lavishness, extravagance, self-indulgence, and outrageous fantasy.
Fellini was born on January 20, 1920, in Rimini, on Italy’s Adriatic coast. The
landscape of this place was a key influence, especially the sea and its beaches,
and nearly all of his films utilize this imagery to dazzling effect to evoke a wide
range of emotion. His family was comparatively small and solidly middle class,
and Fellini was characteristically elusive about his unremarkable beginnings. He
was educated in Catholic schools; his strict, devout mother hoped that her son
would become a priest, while his uncle dabbled in the occult and exposed young
Federico to books on black magic. This early influence, coupled with the general
religious superstition characteristic of everyday life in his hometown, contributed
to Fellini’s fascination with religion and, later, to an adult interest in astrology and
psychic consultation.
The fascist Italy of Mussolini was the setting of Fellini’s youth. The Catholic
Church sought to guarantee its survival in such adverse circumstances by acqui-
escing to the state; as a result, the Catholic schools Fellini attended approached
education with an almost fascist heavy-handedness. In his films, Fellini’s disdain
for institutional authority is frequently directed at both church and state. But how-
ever harsh his criticism of these dominant “powers” might have been, his attitude
toward Roman Catholicism and Italy is—though deliberately ambiguous—much
more charitable.
183
184 | Fellini, Federico

While still a young man, Fellini moved to Rome in 1939 and began pursuing
a law degree, which he never completed. He got his professional start in journal-
ism as a cartoonist / caricaturist and writer, working primarily for the magazine
Marc’Aurelio (1939–1942). The writers he met during this time helped pave his
way into the world of cinema, where his first work was as a rewriter, adding comic
gags to dull scripts. In 1943, Fellini met and soon married Giulietta Masina, who
later starred in a number of his films (La strada [The Road, 1954], La notti di
Cabiria [The Nights of Cabiria, 1957], Guilietta degli spiriti [Juliet of the Spirits,
1965]) and was destined to be a significant influence on his work.
He collaborated with Roberto Rossellini (1906–1977) on the screenplay for
the Neo-Realist manifesto Roma, citta aperta (Rome, Open City, 1945) and con-
tributed also to the script for Francesco, giullare di Dio (literally, “Francis, God’s
Jester,” but also known as The Flowers of St. Francis, 1950). Fellini’s first foray
into acting was as a villainous parody of St. Joseph in Il miracolo (The Miracle,
1948), one part of a two-film set in of Rossellini’s scandalous L’amore (Love),
which Fellini also cowrote. This particular film concerned Catholic critics and was
denounced by the Vatican as “a sacrilegious blasphemy.” But while Fellini’s earli-
est film work is associated with Italian Neo-Realism, his own oeuvre is a decided
break from the Neo-Realist school; as his career developed, his style became more
closely associated with fantasy, dreamscapes, and surrealism. The imagination,
illusion, symbolism, and what Peter Bondanella calls “Christian humanism” (and
his contemporary Pasolini regarded negatively as “Catholic irrationalism”) that
would come to define his own films are already evident in these early efforts.
In adulthood, Fellini was devoted to Jungian psychoanalysis, with its quest for
inner unity and the well-being of the soul (in Italian, anima; in Jungian terms anima
refers to every man’s unconscious feminine identity). This prompts the repeated
phrase “asa nisi masa,” a sort of scrambled version of “anima,” in 8½ (1963), Fell-
ini’s autobiographical film about a director in creative crisis. Jung’s theories about
dreams and imagination—that their source was the “collective unconscious”—
were very important to Fellini. Critics surmise that his interest in Jung and his be-
lief that dreams were the source of creativity influenced the filmmaker’s decision
to abandon realism and develop his distinctive, allusive, imaginative style.
Clearly the early Catholic influence on Fellini’s sexuality and creativity
was more stifling than nurturing, but had it not been for Fellini’s ecclesiastical
upbringing and education—its disdain for sex and the body while paradoxically
exalting the crucified body of Jesus Christ and the emphatically virginal, female
body of his mother—this visionary director’s imagination would have been made
up of altogether different material. For Fellini, who admitted that religion was
a source of guilt (especially regarding sexuality), an inextricable connection al-
ways existed between women/sexuality, religion, and the cinema. Fellini’s films
are full of nearly as many kind-hearted prostitutes and heartbreakingly beautiful
 Fellini, Federico | 185

bombshells as they are of catastrophically inept, if not downright cruel men of the
cloth; one wonders if, for Fellini, celibacy and a suspect character are fundamen-
tally linked. For example, in Amarcord (I Remember, 1973), a young boy (a cipher
for Fellini’s own adolescent libido) confesses his juvenile lust to a indecorous
priest who takes disturbing pleasure in both the boy’s sin and his penance; in 8½,
a young Guido (yet another Fellini figure) is made to stand before a tribunal of
priests and admonished for his perverse desire for the beastly yet voluptuous pros-
titute La Saraghina. These instances are the workings out of a sense of moralism
that can be repeatedly disregarded but perhaps never entirely shaken; Fellini seeks
to embrace the source of his early shame and to redeem it toward his own psychic
healing. At times it is anger and not shame that prompt his most imaginative and
scathing imagery. His deep criticism of clergy and church authority and hierarchy
is evident in the “clerical fashion show” sequence in Roma (1972), which depicts
bishops and cardinals showing off absurdly elaborate (and, as the scene develops,
increasingly lavish) vestments, tackily adorned with flashing lights—eventually
reaching fever pitch in a parade of raiments emptied of their bodies, costumes with
no content—all for the amusement and applause of the audience (congregation)
seated around the catwalk.
We might infer from this that Fellini regarded Christianity as utterly farcical
and devoid of meaning. However, he retained a certain reverence for the Catholic
Church, for its symbolism and rituals. He was committed especially to Christian-
ity’s central teaching: the profound love for others demonstrated by Jesus Christ,
who, he believed, lives on in anyone who lays down his life for his neighbor. In this
sense Fellini, perhaps reluctantly, considered his works to be “Christian” films. One
scholar refers to Fellini’s “trilogy of grace”: Il bidone (The Swindle, 1955), Le notti
di Cabiria, and the most remarkable of the three, La strada. These films involve
central characters who, like Gelsomina, sacrificially impart salvation—albeit in a
more “this worldly,” humanist sense—to those whose lives they touch. They are
“holy fools” or, in St. Paul’s terminology, “fools for Christ,” secular saints who lay
down their lives and kenotically empty themselves for the sake of others in acts of
pure love. In an almost sacramental sense, they bring about the redemption that is
such a central theme in Fellini’s work. That the face of sacrificial love, this love that
effects transformation, even conversion, is often that of his wife speaks volumes of
their relationship, and all the more so in light of Fellini’s historic infidelity.
The opening scene of La dolce vita (The Sweet Life, 1960)—Fellini’s master-
ful reflection on a world without grace, God, or a cultural center (“2000 Years
After Jesus Christ” and “Babylon 2000” were considered as alternative titles)—is
one of his most recognizable: a helicopter transports a statue of Christ to the Vati-
can; as the silent stone Savior looks down, dangling beneath the modern machine,
several sunbathing beauties notice the flying Jesus but are quickly distracted by
the young, handsome helicopter pilots, to whom they wave and call out, but to no
186 | Fellini, Federico

avail. This juxtaposition of the old and new, tradition and progress, religion and
sexuality, history and youth, presents once again the ambiguity so characteristic of
Fellini and his work. The film’s religious symbolism ranges from the overt, as in
the Christ statue, and, to a lesser degree, Sylvia’s “baptism” in the Trevi Fountain,
to the implicit, such as Marcello’s encounter with the giant sea monster at the end
of the film—perhaps an intertextual nod to the great white whale in Melville’s
Moby Dick, another fish representative of the Divine. However, in Melville’s case,
the fish (a traditional Christian symbol) represents all that is mythical and un-
graspable about the Divine, whereas Fellini’s creature is pathetic, dead, bloated,
and so tangibly incarnate that we can almost smell it through the celluloid.
Rome, the Eternal City, also plays a prominent role in several films (La dolce
vita; Roma; Satyricon [1969]) not simply as backdrop but almost as a character it-
self. In a cameo appearance in Roma, writer Gore Vidal reflects: “This is the city of
illusions. It’s a city, after all, of the Church, of government, of movies. They’re all
makers of illusions. I’m one too, and so are you.” This could sum up Fellini’s attitude
toward religion, politics, and art, which is not entirely disparaging but rather, or at
least in part, affectionate, for Fellini maintained a lifelong love affair with illusion.
A full catalogue of the religious imagery in Fellini’s film would fill a volume,
and even one interpreter’s explication of that imagery would comprise several
more. Fellini’s films are often described as poetic, and indeed, like great poems,
they are endlessly interpretable. But they also share this characteristic, and an
added (if hidden) element of ethical teaching, with Jesus’ parables. This should
come as no surprise. Like the man himself, religion is part of the very fabric of the
mythopoetic world of Fellini’s films; the sense of the sacred fills with significance
frames that would otherwise be hollow spectacle or trite melodrama. The role re-
ligion plays in Fellini’s films, and indeed played in his life, might cut both ways,
eliciting as much pain as it does healing, but both the man and his work would be
impoverished were it not for its inextricable and ubiquitous influence.
In all, Fellini wrote and directed 21 feature films and several shorter works. In
August 1993, having earlier in the year undergone cardiac bypass surgery, Fellini
suffered a stroke that left him partially paralyzed; another more massive stroke
followed two months later. A Catholic in birth and in death, he received final unc-
tion and died on October 31, 1993, the day after his 50th wedding anniversary. His
body lay in state at Cinecittà’s massive Teatro 5, which had served many times as
the canvas for his artistic imagination. Fellini’s death ended his lifelong feud with
the Catholic Church; many prominent church leaders were involved in his funeral,
including those who had previously accused him of perversion and sacrilege.
Brannon Hancock
See also: Catholicism; Dogme 95; Europe (Continental); The Miracle Controversy.
 Film as Religion | 187

Further Reading
Bondanella, Peter. The Films of Federico Fellini. New York: Cambridge University Press,
2002.
Costantini, Costanzo, ed. Conversations with Fellini. New York: Harcourt / Harvest Books,
1997.
Fellini, Federico. Fellini on Fellini. New York: Da Capo, 1996.
Ketcham, Charles B. Federico Fellini: The Search for a New Mythology. New York: Paulist
Press, 1976.
Pasolini, Pier Paolo. “The Catholic Irrationalism of Fellini,” translated by Frank and Pina
Demers. Film Criticism 11, nos. 1/2 (1986–1987): 190–200.

Film as Religion

Most Americans spend far more time watching and thinking about film than they
do attending church or considering traditionally religious ideas. In an era where
mainstream Christian churches are losing congregants and both fundamentalism
and eclectic new religious movements are growing rapidly, film has become a cul-
turewide touchstone whose forms and content are appreciated by both the religious
right and religious left, as well, perhaps, as by the more casual religious center.
Using a variety of approaches, scholars have begun to explore seriously the
religious impact of film. When film is treated as a partner in theological dialogue,
a given film may or may not be seen as having a unique religious message, but it
may still powerfully articulate cultural themes. The messages of popular films can
productively challenge and expand theology, whether by causing theologians to
revise their message or by offering criticisms of mainstream society’s values.
For example, in Explorations in Theology and Film (1997, with Gaye Ortiz),
Clive Marsh suggests a three part-model to understand how Christ and culture
relate—Christ in opposition to culture, Christ in agreement with culture, and
Christ in dialogue with culture. Marsh puts most of his emphasis for the study of
film on the third category, seeing film as providing both confirmations of the con-
tent of Christian theology and challenges to it. This approach relies heavily on the
work of Protestant theologian Paul Tillich, who saw all art as potentially religious,
as it orients itself toward issues of meaning and value most fundamental to human
beings. Like fellow religion and film scholar John R. May, whose edited volume
Religion in Film (1982) helped establish the field, Marsh argues that both theology
and film must retain their autonomy in order for them to interact productively.
Robert K. Johnston also advocates a dialogic model of theology and film.
In his work Reel Spirituality (2000), he arranges his five approaches on a scale
188 | Film as Religion

between ethics and aesthetics: (1) avoidance, in which religious people boycott
films that are offensive to their religious beliefs and pressure filmmakers to submit
themselves to censorship; (2) caution, in which religious people view films that
may conflict with their moral values, but still evaluate them primarily from a theo-
logical and ethical standpoint; (3) dialogue, in which films are first understood
as self-contained texts with their own meaning, and are only then brought into
dialogue with theology and ethical values; (4) appropriation, in which films are
examined for religious wisdom and insight but are not baptized as “unconsciously
Christian”; and (5) divine encounter, in which films provide opportunities to ex-
perience the sacred outside of any specific religious tradition. As an advocate for
the approaches that fall more on the side of esthetics (dialogue, appropriation,
and divine encounter), Johnston suggests that film may provide opportunities for
genuinely religious insight and experience.
Using a different approach, scholars have explored the use of film to com-
municate ethical norms and ideology. Films present values in both content
and form, often doing so as convincingly as traditional religions. For better or
worse, film is portrayed as an important shaper of popular morality. For ex-
ample, in Seeing and Believing: Religion and Values in the Movies (1996), Mar-
garet Miles approaches film primarily through its social context. Concentrating
on popular films because of their cultural impact, Miles argues that, because of
their accessibility and pervasiveness, such films must be investigated in detail
for ethical and religious values, particularly in those films that culture dismisses
as “harmless entertainment.” She identifies film as an important site for both
the representation and production of culture. Miles is relatively uninterested in
films as art, portraying them as vehicles for cultural values, not as artistic ends
in themselves. She emphasizes that the need to make a film successful at the
box office often undermines its potential for liberating ethical or religious mes-
sages. To the degree a film is “entertaining,” she argues, it cannot be genuinely
religious.
Others represent the ethical impact of popular films more positively. In The
Gospel According to Disney: Faith, Trust, and Pixie Dust (2004), journalist Mark I.
Pinsky interprets Disney films as consistently reinforcing values of optimism,
hard work, and faith in oneself and in a higher power. In many of the essays in
Marsh and Ortiz’s Explorations in Theology and Film, as well as in Bryan Stone’s
Faith and Film: Theological Themes at the Cinema (2000), theology and film are
brought into dialogue with the assumption that some popular films effectively
communicate such important religious values as compassion, community, hope,
and forgiveness. Although scholars of religion and film disagree as to whether
films express desirable ethical values, there is widespread agreement that they do
present such values convincingly and to a wide audience.
 Film as Religion | 189

Using a third approach, other scholars have examined films as expressions of

myth where films present not just values, but systems of meaning-making narra-
tive that may offer entire cosmologies for understanding the world. In their edited
volume Screening the Sacred: Religion, Myth, and Ideology in Popular Ameri-
can Film (1995), Joel Martin and Conrad Ostwalt define mythological criticism
as broadly equating religion with universal archetypes and symbols rather than
merely with widely recognized religious traditions such as Islam, Christianity, or
Buddhism. Accordingly, their collection contains a number of essays arguing for
the mythic, meaning-making function of contemporary films. Particularly notable
is Andrew Gordon’s “Star Wars: A Myth for Our Time,” which charts the connec-
tions of the Star Wars series to Joseph Campbell’s notion of the monomyth, the
narrative of the hero’s journey that Campbell believed could be found cross cul-
turally. Gordon sees Star Wars (1977) as having a deliberately old-fashioned plot
that borrows heavily from fairy tales and American popular fantasy. According to
Gordon, the film creates a pastiche that resonates deeply with the narratives and
archetypes with which Americans have grown up, and he concludes that the “pas-
sion for Star Wars is akin to the fervor of a religious revival” (82). Gordon asserts
that popular film can fill the gap left by the lack of shared mythic narratives—a
gap once filled by religious narratives. Because of the power of myth to bind com-
munities together in a shared sense of meaning, it is important to study exactly
what narratives Americans are embracing through popular film. The mythic ap-
proach to film is particularly relevant when studying science fiction, a genre that
confronts present social trends with utopian and dystopian futures, often for the
purpose of examining questions of ultimate concern.
Last, scholars have approached film through the lens of ritual studies, enabling
them to see films as venues for ritualized performance of community myths and
values, whether in the physical act of viewing, the psychological act of identify-
ing with characters in the film, or the elaborately staged enactment of subcultural
community values that accompanies the screening of some “cult” films. In Film as
Religion: Myths, Morals, and Rituals (2003), John C. Lyden sees films as provid-
ing a number of possible ritual functions, many of them through the ability of the
spectator to identify with the characters in films. Using Rene Girard’s concept of
scapegoating, he suggests that film can offer a cathartic exploration of suffering,
sacrifice, and redemption. As in Aristotle’s theory of tragedy, films offer audiences
the opportunity to express emotions and suggest cognitive strategies for dealing
with life. Lyden further argues that films can support mainstream culture by pre-
senting myths that reinforce the status quo, or undermine it by presenting alterna-
tives. The viewing of a film can enable an experience similar to Victor Turner’s
communitas, a state where a group of people enter a liminal (in-between, uncer-
tain, initiatory) space together, undergo a period of self-exploration and bonding
190 | Film as Religion

while outside normal social structures, and then return to society. The utopian
experience of communitas, though it cannot be fully carried back into “the real
world,” nevertheless can affect one’s behavior in the period of integration and pos-
sibly provide an opportunity for personal or social reform. The viewing of a film,
therefore, can be considered as a performative ritual that may well have lasting
effects outside of the theatre.
Other scholars have followed the same reasoning. Michael Jindra has exam-
ined fans who have been so profoundly affected by Star Trek’s optimistic, human-
istic philosophy that they consider the world of the television series to be a way of
life. Jennifer E. Porter has examined Star Trek conventions as pilgrimages, where
fans gather to celebrate shared values in an egalitarian community that—like the
series and its films—transcends lines of social division. The viewing of Star Trek
becomes a ritualized activity around which fans can organize their utopian hopes
for the future, as well as temporarily create a miniature version of that future in
the form of group gatherings with like-minded others. In its extreme, the study of
the ritualization of film has led scholars to ponder the “cult film” genre, the quin-
tessential example being The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975). Since the film’s
release, its costumed fans have attended viewings at which a cast of actors mirrors
the action on the screen. Viewers chant along with the dialogue and songs; shout
scripted, catty comments back at the screen; throw toast; squirt water guns; dance
the “Time Warp”; and generally do their best to blur the line between the screen
and the audience—in other words, as Lyden suggests, they become a part of the
story. Rocky Horror performances represent an elaborate ritual practice that cel-
ebrates values such as sexuality and freedom. Among the largely unchurched and
countercultural young people who attend, these activities may provide the sense
of community and the opportunity to affirm shared values that more mainstream
Americans experience in church.
It is not, however, just the unchurched who find profound spiritual experiences
in the ritual of viewing film. Queer Christian theologian Gerard Loughlin sug-
gests in Alien Sex: The Body and Desire in Cinema and Theology (2004) that the
emotional, bodily reactions provoked by films provide opportunities to connect
with the divine as experienced in human embodiment and sexuality, and Johnston
writes in Reel Spirituality that he received his call to Christian ministry while
watching the film Becket (1964). For these writers, film is not something that is
passively consumed by the viewer; it is participatory and potentially transforma-
tive, and may even help to build and sustain community.
Although most scholars have tended to favor one or another of the four domi-
nant approaches to the study of religion and film outlined here (film in dialogue
with theology, film as communicator of ethics, film as expression of myth, and
film as venue for ritual), Lyden has synthesized them. In Film as Religion: Myths,
 Film as Religion | 191

Morals, and Rituals, he develops the provocative argument that film may fulfill so
many religious functions in American life that it is useful to consider it a religion
in its own right. Using “myth” to mean “a story that expresses the worldview and
values of a community” (4), he suggests that films are sites where modern myths
are created and spread. The act of viewing a film is a ritual, a participatory perfor-
mance that shows both the world as it is and a vision of the world as it should be.
Films express moral values and offer opportunities for audiences to engage with
these values through vicarious experiences of liminality, redemptive suffering, and
sacrifice. Lyden is aware of the way imposing alien theological norms on films
mutes their unique religious voices, as critics have sometimes done in an attempt
to use film to spread orthodox Christian theology. Instead, he proposes a model of
interreligious dialogue between religions and films, where the critic seeks to hear
and understand films’ religious messages before bringing them into dialogue with
other religious traditions. Finally, Lyden considers both the individual viewer and
the community of viewers to be integral to the experience of a film, and he em-
phasizes the fact that film does not simply broadcast values that are then passively
taken in by the audience. This model suggests that films may have a pervasive
religious afterlife that extends far beyond the moment when the lights come up
and everyone leaves the theater.
Although Lyden makes a strong case for film’s functioning as a religion in
American society, his model does not go quite far enough in addressing audience
reaction to and interaction with films. He advocates the greater use of viewer-
response studies in religion and film criticism and rejects the idea that “meaning
rests first of all in the film rather than in the spectator” (29). His model, however,
still implicitly portrays the process of meaning creation as having stopped after
the film has been viewed and interpreted. If the “film as religion” model is to be
a meaningful one, scholars need to study the cultural afterlife of films. Such an
exploration might delve into how these filmic “modern myths” influence the re-
ligious beliefs and practices of viewers, the ways in which the world views they
represent are reproduced and changed in the productions of fan fiction writers, or
the new meanings films take on by becoming the sacred texts of particular coun-
tercultural communities. For example, films such as Star Wars and The Matrix
(1999) have provided a religious vocabulary that has become pervasive in popular
culture in the years after their release. In language drawn from the Matrix trilogy, a
2004 ad posted by the Vineyard Christian Church in Boston-area subway stations
advertised, “I never knew friendship could be like this. I feel like I’ve taken the
red pill.” The explosion of interest in Zen Buddhism and Gnosticism in the wake
of the Matrix films (The Matrix [1999]; The Matrix Reloaded [2003]; The Matrix
Revolutions [2003]) suggests a religious impact on viewers that may extend well
beyond the specific images and rhetoric they contain.
192 | Film as Religion

Lyden’s notion of film as religion falls short when popular films are compared
to established religious traditions, traditions that have developed in the conscious
attempt to define ethics and seek meaning. Although the fan culture surrounding
films adds significantly to the complexity of their meaning and the depth of their
impact, it is inevitable that films will seem shallow in comparison. However, it is
clear that films are playing a vital and influential religious role in contemporary
popular culture, and may be filling some of the gaps left by disillusionment with
organized religion.
Christine Hoff Kraemer
See also: Dystopia; The Matrix Trilogy; Myth; Ritual; Theology and Film.

Note
Portions of this entry are reprinted from Christine Hoff Kraemer’s “From Theological to
Cinematic Criticism: Extricating the Study of Religion and Film from Theology.” Reli-
gious Studies Review (January 2009): 243–250. Reprinted with permission from John
Wiley & Sons, Inc. (www.interscience.wiley.com).

Further Reading
Austin, R., ed. “Screening Mystery: The Religious Imagination in Contemporary Film.”
Special issue, Image: A Journal of the Arts and Religion 20 (Summer 1998).
Austin, Ron. “The Spiritual Frontiers of Film.” Image: A Journal of the Arts and Religion
31 (2001): 95–104.
Comstock, W. Richard. “Myth and Contemporary Cinema.” Journal of the American
Academy of Religion 43 (1975): 598–600.
Deacy, Christopher. Screen Christologies: Redemption and the Medium of Film. Cardiff,
UK: University of Wales Press, 2001.
Gordon, Andrew. “Star Wars: A Myth for Our Time.” In Screening the Sacred: Religion,
Myth, and Ideology in Popular American Film, edited by Joel W. Martin and Conrad
Ostwalt Jr., 73–82. Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1995.
Holloway, Ronald. Beyond the Image: Approaches to the Religious Dimension in the Cin-
ema. Geneva: World Council of Churches, 1977.
Lyden, John C. Film as Religion: Myths, Morals, and Rituals. New York: New York Uni-
versity Press, 2003.
McDowell, John C. The Gospel According to Star Wars: Faith, Hope, and the Force. Lou-
isville, KY: Westminster/John Knox Press, 2007.
Peavy, Charles D. “The Secularized Christ in Contemporary Cinema.” Journal of Popular
Film and Television 3, no. 2 (1974): 139–155.
G

Gilliam, Terry (1940– )

Seen through the films of Terry Gilliam, the search for meaning in the modern age
is something of a fool’s quest. Gilliam’s career as a filmmaker began with Monty
Python and the Holy Grail (1975), a movie he wrote about the Grail Quest as told
by the modern-day fools (comedians) of Monty Python’s Flying Circus. The cli-
max of this spoof comes as King Arthur and his knights are rounded up and thrown
into a paddy wagon by a band of modern policemen. For all their cinematic variety,
Gilliam’s subsequent films return to the theme of the individual’s quest for mean-
ing, which—narrated by a trickster like Gilliam—never turns out as expected by
either character or audience. He has noted that, even in films not based on his own
scripts, he prefers situations involving individuals who have unrealized dreams
and are struggling in society to find romance. Identifying with the fool-heroes of
various quests, Gilliam straddles the genres of comedy and tragedy. On the one
hand, a sense of the absurd and/or the grotesque pervades his decidedly fantastical
worlds, in which the homeless break out into show tunes, a psychiatric patient lib-
erates animals from zoos, and plastic surgeons shrink-wrap their patients’ heads.
On the other hand, his characters are typically frustrated in their fantasies, as fairy
tales turn into nightmares. Romantic love leads to imprisonment and torture, bac-
chanalia usher in madness and death, and a hero’s quest ends in death.
The immediate context for understanding both the director’s embrace of tragi-
comedy and the public’s reception of his work is found in the social tumult of
the 1960s. As the animator for Monty Python’s Flying Circus, Gilliam entered
the entertainment industry as the sole American-born member of a British com-
edy troupe whose skillful use of parody rendered absurd the conventions of bour-
geois culture. Although it would be a misnomer to designate the humor of Monty
Python as “political,” it was nevertheless the radical cultural politics of the 1960s
that fueled the acerbic wit of its creators and whetted the appetites of its viewers
throughout Europe and, to a lesser extent, the United States. Despite its late-night

193
194 | Gilliam,Terry

showings and frequent cancellations, Monty Python’s Flying Circus (BBC, 1969–
1972) became something of a subcultural fad in Great Britain almost immediately
following the airing of its first episode in 1969, prompting BBC to air three sub-
sequent series from 1970 to 1973. In the meantime, economic support for Monty
Python films came from countercultural icons in the British rock scene, including
George Harrison of the Beatles and the bands Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd. In his
autobiographical reflections, Gilliam recalls his own growing awareness of social
injustices in the United States throughout his adolescent years and his realization
of film’s potential to expose the repressed political and cultural truths of his coun-
try. By the time he joined Monty Python in the late 1960s, Gilliam’s humor (his
first job was as an illustrator for Mad magazine), his interest in visual art and film,
and his countercultural political sensibilities were well defined. It was through the
vehicle of Monty Python that they first reached a widespread modern audience.
Gilliam’s emergence as an independent director came with the release of
Jabberwocky (1977), a tale of a medieval peasant swept up against his will into
heroism—which bars him from marrying his true love. Gilliam’s oeuvre portrays
characters trapped in hermetically sealed psychological or social worlds that
thwart their dreams of love and freedom. A sampling of a few plot climaxes illus-
trates this. For example, a little boy travels with angels throughout Creation and
meets God face to face—only to watch as his parents vanish from the earth (Time
Bandits, 1981); a clerk follows his dreams to meet the perfect woman—only to be
arrested, tortured, and driven insane (Brazil, 1985); a time traveler from the future
unravels a plot to destroy the world—only to be shot to death moments before he
can avert the Apocalypse (Twelve Monkeys, 1995). Other movies with decidedly
happier endings are nevertheless set against a backdrop of chronic and ineradi-
cable suffering: a bard enchants his audience for the last time before the Age of
Reason disenchants the world (Adventures of Baron Munchausen, 1988), and a
professor regains his sanity after watching his wife’s head being blown to bits by a
stray gunman (The Fisher King, 1991). In their graphic and relentless exposure of
suffering, death, and insanity—juxtaposed always with beauty, hope, and love—
Gilliam’s films emerge as a testimony to the ambiguous and double-sided nature
of existence.
Gilliam’s film magic echoes the cinematic styles of George Méliès and Feder-
ico Fellini, and his crafting or choice of screenplays reflects his love of fairy tales,
legends, and the English nonsense tradition, particularly the work of Lewis Car-
roll. Jabberwocky (inspired by the Carroll poem of the same title), Time Bandits,
and The Adventures of Baron Munchausen all bring to life imaginary landscapes
with little regard for realism. But even his most fantastical films seek to explore the
contours of reality in everyday life, and Gilliam creates fantasy worlds to remind
his viewers of their limitations. The princess in Jabberwocky absurdly clings to her
 Gilliam, Terry | 195

fairytale expectations of reality; the little boy wakes up as if from a dream after
his cosmic travels in Time Bandits; and Baron Munchausen spins outlandish yarns
that only partly deliver his audience from the atrocities of warfare. At the same
time, Gilliam exposes the absurdity of what might be called “naïve realism”—an
uncritical acceptance of inherited psychological, social, and political conventions.
The time traveler from the future in Twelve Monkeys—who is institutionalized for
his “psychotic” rants about an impending Apocalypse—is ultimately vindicated,
and the psychiatric “experts” who have dismissed him throughout the film are
discredited. Sam Lowry, the protagonist in Brazil, meanders through a labyrinth
of modern political propaganda and commercialism in his search for truth and
love. The Fisher King relentlessly exposes the greed and pettiness of corporate
America. In the Gilliam universe, there are no simple answers. Sometimes fantasy
liberates, but sometimes it destroys. Political, social, and economic “realities” are
based on lies or fantasy, but not always. Besides death, the only constant in the
Gilliam oeuvre is relentless questioning.
Gilliam’s films make many overt references to organized religion or religious
themes. More explicitly than his other films, the screenplay of Time Bandits ex-
plores the Christian cosmology of heaven, hell, angels, and demons. Other movies
include scenes or at least shots of monastics, like the fanatical penitents in Jabber-
wocky or the nuns wandering through Grand Central Station in The Fisher King.
But the most “religious” aspects of Gilliam’s work—the director’s contribution
to questions of ultimacy—come in and through the vision of the sacred clown.
Clowns or fools appear in sacred ceremonies as embodiments of what Carl Jung
called the principle of coincidentia oppositorum (the union of opposing principles,
affects, or powers) and as symbols of transformation. The etymology of the En-
glish word clown reveals its association with the words clot and clod—merging
of internally incongruous elements. The clown unites such structural dichotomies
as sacred/profane, culture/nature, and custom/taboo. Because of their association
with boundaries or thresholds, clowns are also associated with transformation and
transition. They have serious religious work to do in healing and giving new life
to those who are befuddled or oppressed by the contradictory or limiting struc-
tures of their societies. The protagonists of Gilliam’s films—who are both comic
and tragic, insightful and mad, agents and victims—are clowns or fools in this
religious sense; through their quests, they come to know the contradictions and
complexities of life and are therefore transformed, in some completely unforeseen
way, through this experience and knowledge. Gilliam’s films preclude any easy re-
ligious or ideological “answers” to the perennial questions of suffering, injustice,
and death, but they both honor and encourage the questions.
Gilliam’s serious playfulness reflects a maturation of the Pythonesque sensi-
bility in the years following the 1960s. His movies can be read in part as a fool’s
196 | Gilliam,Terry

indictment of the romantic quests of that era. To his filmic rendition of Hunter S.
Thompson’s 1989 work Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (1998), Gilliam brings to
bear not only the full weight of his craftsmanship in creating altered states of view-
ing consciousness but also his experience of living through and beyond a decade
of naïve idealism. Midway through the movie—based on Thompson’s autobio-
graphical account of his alcohol and drug binge in the hotels and casinos of Las
Vegas—Gilliam inserts an edited version of the journalist’s own reminiscences of
a past Golden Age:

Has it been five years? Six? It seems like a lifetime, the kind of peak that never
comes again. San Francisco in the middle sixties was a very special time and
place to be part of, but no explanation, no mix of words or music or memories,
can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and alive in that corner of
the world, whatever it meant. You could strike sparks anywhere. There was a
fantastic, universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were
winning. And that, I think, was the handle. That sense of inevitable victory over
the forces of old and evil. Not in any mean or military sense—we didn’t need
that. Our energy would simply prevail. We had all the momentum. We were rid-
ing the crest of a high and beautiful wave. So now, less than five years later, you
can go to a steep hill in Las Vegas and look west, and with the right kind of eyes
you can almost see the high water mark, that place where the wave finally broke,
and rolled back.

Thompson’s words poignantly capture the pathos of Gilliam’s works. Magic

is real, but it has its limits. No less than Thompson, Gilliam quickly outgrew the
comic or utopian ethos of the decade that had shaped him both politically and
artistically, while still retaining many of the emancipatory ideals of the 1960s.
“That was the fatal flaw in Tim Leary’s trip,” the drug connoisseur concludes in
the penultimate scene: “He crashed around America selling ‘consciousness expan-
sion’ without ever giving a thought to the grim meat-hook realities that were lying
in wait for all those people who took him seriously.”
In the final analysis, Gilliam’s work is the legacy of an American “sacred
clown” of the late 20th and early 21st centuries. His works are not unlike some
of the literary texts of the 19th-century American Renaissance writers, which
eulogized the end of American innocence. Yet Gilliam’s films are also a prod-
uct of postmodern American society, a world described by Jean Baudrillard as
“hyperreality,” where high-tech virtual realities—like Las Vegas, Disneyland, and the
Internet—render the quest for truth and justice even more daunting. In such a world,
the need for sacred clowns becomes especially apparent. Clowns are always one
step ahead of the illusory worlds they inhabit. They encourage their onlookers to
enjoy the faux—even as they point to the limits of illusion. Gilliam’s fantastical
 God | 197

worlds and plots revel in the pleasures of hyperreality even as they underscore the
pervasiveness of suffering, injustice, and death. In an era when religion (together
with art and ideology) has failed for many to provide compelling answers, the
clownish films of Gilliam take seriously the urgency and timelessness of religious
questions.
Darryl V. Caterine
See also: God; Jesus; Magic.

Further Reading
Gilliam, Terry. Gilliam on Gilliam. Edited by Ian Christie. London: Faber and Faber, 2000.
Gilliam, Terry, and Bob McCabe. Dark Knights and Holy Fools. London: Orion Media,
1999.
Morgan, David, ed. Monty Python Speaks. New York: Avon Books, 1999.
Sterritt, David, and Lucille Rhodes, eds. Terry Gilliam: Interviews. Jackson: University of
Mississippi Press, 2004.

God

God—specifically, the Judeo-Christian God—occasionally appears as a character

in feature films. Although each film has idiosyncratic features in its portrayal of
God, there are also a few common themes that cut across a number of films.
Issues of theodicy—attempts to defend God’s goodness in light of human
suffering—arise prominently in Bruce Almighty (2003) and Oh, God! (1977), al-
though these films emphasize different responses. In Bruce Almighty, Bruce Nolan
complains that God is not doing his job; God, Bruce avers, could “fix everything
in five minutes” but has inexplicably declined to do so. In Oh, God!, Jerry Land-
ers is less whiny and more polite than Bruce but nevertheless asks God similar
questions.
The answer to questions of theodicy in Oh, God! is straightforward and sim-
ple. When Jerry asks why God does not “do something” about the world’s prob-
lems, God replies, “I did! I gave you each other.” Jerry seems to think that the
world would be better served if God used supernatural means, but God’s answer
asserts that Earth already contains all the resources necessary to “fix” the world—
namely people, who can and must work together to improve their collective lot.
The approach to theodicy in Oh, God!, then, is to “shift the burden” for solving the
world’s problems from God to humanity.
198 | God

Oh, God! Book II (1980) takes a slightly different tack, suggesting constraints
on God’s creative options. During a particularly bleak moment, Tracy asks God,
“Why do you let bad things happen?” After a nod to a “bigger picture” type of
theodicy—“things that you might think are bad are not always bad”—God cites
necessity to explain those things that are genuinely bad (such as Tracy’s example
of children with terminal illnesses). “I know this sounds like a copout,” God tells
Tracy, “but there’s nothing I can really do about pain and suffering. It’s built into
the system.” According to God, everything implies its own opposite; just as “front”
implies “back” and “top” requires “bottom,” so “there can’t be good without bad,
life without death, pleasure without pain. That’s how it is. If I take sad away, happy
has to go with it. If anyone knows another way, I wish they’d put it in the sugges-
tion box.”
Bruce Almighty, although sounding themes similar to Oh, God! about human-
ity itself as God’s answer to humanity’s problems, strikes a different note. Bruce’s
assertion that “the only one not doing his job around here is [God]” is “rewarded”
with the opportunity for Bruce to “fill in” for God while God goes on vacation.
Although at first reveling in his new powers, Bruce soon finds that being God
is no easy task. Managing prayers seems especially difficult for Bruce. Filtering
prayers through an e-mail interface on his computer, Bruce sets up an “automatic
reply” of “yes” to all prayers. Havoc ensues when multiple conflicting prayers
are all answered “yes”—for example, when thousands of people all win the same
lottery. Bruce’s bumbling attempts to “play God” resemble the biblical Job’s in-
ability to fill the same role. To this extent, Bruce Almighty’s theodicy is quite in
line with Job’s; being God is exceptionally difficult, and human objections to the
way that God performs the divine job stem from ignorance of the true complexi-
ties involved.
In a different way, Time Bandits (1981) might also be considered to explore
themes of theodicy, although the film seems at first to question God’s goodness
less than God’s competence. Time Bandits is a quirky film in which God, more
frequently called “the Supreme Being,” is a constant presence even when not vis-
ible. God first appears on screen as a disembodied head chasing the movie’s titular
thieves down a hallway in a British home, demanding that the gang return a stolen
map. The time bandits, essentially subcontractors to whom God had assigned the
work of designing trees and shrubs, had incurred God’s wrath by designing the
pink bungadoo, a bright-red 600-foot tree that smelled terrible. As a disciplinary
measure, God transferred the bandits to the repair department. Because the cre-
ation of the world was a rushed job, crammed into seven days, the fabric of the
universe contained a number of holes. Instead of repairing these holes, however,
the time bandits stole God’s map charting the locations of the holes and traveled
through the holes to try to get rich through larceny. God always seems to be one
 God | 199

Morgan Freeman as God, chatting with Steve Carell as a modern-day Noah, in Evan Almighty, the
sequel to Bruce Almighty. AP Photo/HO/Ralph Nelson/Courtesy of Universal Studios.

or two steps behind the bandits, appearing until the end of the movie as a disem-
bodied head.
Evil personified criticizes God for creating such “riff-raff ” as the bandits
and for spending all his time creating parrots and butterflies instead of focusing
on lasers and digital technology. Evil intends to master the knowledge of digital
watches, cellular telephones, and computers, which would make him the Supreme
Being instead of God. At the end of the movie, when the bandits have exhausted
their best efforts to retrieve the map from Evil, God appears and destroys death,
then proceeds to assign the bandits to cleanup detail. When Randall, the bandits’
leader, tries to apologize to God for stealing the map, God tells Randall that God
had planned the entire caper all along as a way of testing his creation, Evil—which
God considers to be a great success. God turns out not to be so incompetent after
all. The somewhat ridiculous criticisms hurled at God by Evil and the hints that
the bandits might yet elude God are all revealed to be misdirections. God knew
exactly what he was doing from the beginning.
And yet this vindication of God’s competence comes at the price of God’s
beneficence. The theodicy of Time Bandits is quite unconventional, laying the ex-
istence of evil firmly at God’s feet. In the vision of Time Bandits, God remains
omnipotent and omniscient but comes off as uncaring and manipulative, interested
200 | God

in experimenting with creation but disinterested in the effects these experiments

might have on humanity or other created beings. Time Bandits leaves viewers with
the uncomfortable idea that Evil exists because God created it, and God created it
because, well, God is creative.
Despite its ubiquitous yet superficial irreverence, Dogma (1999) addresses
some poignant if not profound theological concepts. One of the major tropes in
Dogma is the fragility and riskiness of incarnation. The film opens with three
young hooligans viciously attacking an old man outside of a skeeball arcade. As
the film unfolds, the victim of this assault—dubbed “John Doe Jersey” by the
news media—is maintained on life support in a New Jersey hospital. Eventually,
the Metatron, the Muse, and the Apostle reveal to Bethany Sloane that God likes
to take on human form and visit Earth to play skeeball. While in human form,
God is subject to all human biological frailties, but biological death releases God
from the selected human form and returns God to heaven. God, however, has gone
missing, and none of the heavenly host know where to look for her. At the climax
of the film, Bethany realizes that John Doe Jersey is God’s latest human guise,
and that the life support machinery that keeps John Doe Jersey biologically alive
also keeps God trapped in human form. By pulling the plug on John Doe Jersey,
Bethany frees God from this human prison.
Earlier in the film, the Metatron, who speaks for God because no human can
survive the sound of God’s true voice, opines to Bethany that Jesus’ incarnation
was “unfair.” When Bethany protests her role in saving the world, saying “I don’t
want this. It’s too big,” Metatron responds,

That’s what Jesus said. I had to tell him. You can imagine how that hurt the
Father: not to be able to tell the Son himself because one word from his lips
would destroy the boy’s frail human form. So I had to deliver the news to a scared
child who wanted nothing more than to play with other children. I had to tell
this little boy that he was God’s only son, and it meant a life of persecution and
eventual crucifixion at the hands of the very people that he’d come to enlighten
and redeem.

From the Metatron’s point of view, Jesus’ incarnation causes a rift between
the Father and the Son—not because of any metaphysical transference of sin from
humanity to Jesus at Jesus’ crucifixion but simply because of the inherent frailties
of the human body in contrast to divine glory and omnipotence. Paradoxically,
divine glory and omnipotence limit God’s interactions with humanity.
The entire plot of Dogma centers around a “loophole” that threatens to undo all
of existence precisely because of God’s inflexible infallibility. Near the beginning
of the film, the Metatron explains to Bethany that just after the tenth plague, Loki,
 God | 201

the angel of death, was convinced by his angelic friend Bartleby to resign from his
position. Angry, God decreed that neither Loki nor Bartleby could ever re-enter
heaven. However, the Catholic Church created a loophole through the doctrine of
plenary indulgence, or forgiveness for all past sins. (The inaccuracies in Dogma’s
portrayal of Catholic dogma are left aside here for purposes of considering the
story on its own terms.) Since Jesus Christ had given the power of “loosing and
binding” to Peter, taken by Catholics to be the first pope, God was bound to respect
the church’s doctrines. When Loki and Bartleby learn that plenary indulgence is
to be invoked at a particular New Jersey church during a special grand reopening
ceremony, they decide to take advantage of plenary indulgence so that they can be
forgiven and re-enter heaven. If this should happen, the Metatron tells Bethany,
God would be proven wrong (since God had decreed that Loki and Bartleby could
never re-enter heaven). According to the Metatron, “Existence in all its form and
splendor functions solely on one principle: God is infallible. To prove him wrong
would undo reality and everything that is.” Therefore if Loki and Bartleby man-
aged to circumvent God’s will and find re-entry into heaven through the plenary
indulgence loophole, they would, in the Metatron’s words, “unmake the world.”
By opening incarnation and infallibility as doors onto divine vulnerability,
Dogma raises fascinating questions about the nature of divine power itself. Dogma
entangles viewers in relatively sophisticated version of the question whether God
could create a rock that God could not lift—a question that philosophers of reli-
gion still debate. Here, the question is what would happen if two divine decrees
turned out to be incompatible in such a way that adherence to one would violate the
other. The film’s answer is that divine infallibility must be preserved at all costs.
Bethany’s task is to prevent Loki and Bartleby from entering St. Michael’s Church
in Red Bank, New Jersey, and receiving plenary indulgence. In the end, Loki and
Bartleby (having become human by the severing of their angelic wings) are both
killed (Loki by Bartleby, and Bartleby by God) before they can enter the church.
Presumably, the two former angels spend the rest of eternity in hell, but God’s
competing decrees (the banishment of Loki and Bartleby and the grant to Peter
of ecclesiastical “binding and loosing” power)—and thus God’s infallibility—
are preserved.
The God portrayed in Oh, God! is in some ways the polar opposite of the one
portrayed in Dogma. In the former, God appears in physical form, but selectively,
visible at times only to Jerry Landers, at other times more publicly, but never with
a sense of physical vulnerability. Infallibility, though, is explicitly disclaimed by
this God. God admits to various mistakes (such as making the avocado pit too big,
or, in Oh, God! Book II, making mathematics too difficult) and to an ignorance of
the future until it becomes the past—anticipating by almost two decades the “open
theism” debate.
202 | God

In most theatrical films that feature God as a character, the God character is
meant to really represent the God of the Judeo-Christian tradition. Star Trek V: The
Final Frontier (1989) offers a different approach. Sybok, a renegade Vulcan and
half-brother of Spock, uses his telepathic/empathic abilities to seduce the crew of
the starship Enterprise into helping him pursue his quest to find God within the
“great barrier” at the center of the galaxy. According to Sybok, all of the god-
concepts of the humans, Vulcans, Romulans, Klingons, and other species in the
Milky Way converge on this one figure and location. Apparently, all the major spe-
cies in the Star Trek universe are monotheistic, at least on Sybok’s telling.
Upon arriving at the planet behind the barrier, Sybok contacts God, who
appears to Sybok, Spock, Captain Kirk and Doctor McCoy as a large, bearded
Caucasian head. Sybok offers the Enterprise as a “chariot” to carry God’s power
beyond the barrier, until Kirk poses the impertinent question, “What does God
need with a starship?” “God’s” violent reaction reveals him to be a powerful alien
imprisoned within the barrier by some yet superior force.
After the alien has been defeated (by Starfleet photon torpedos and Klingon
blasters), Spock and McCoy stare into space through an Enterprise viewport, won-
dering, as McCoy puts it, “Is God really out there?” Kirk replies, “Maybe he’s not
out there, Bones. Maybe he’s right here”—Kirk points to his own chest—“in the
human heart.” Kirk’s encounter with an alien deceptively posing as an external,
cosmic god has apparently led him to question whether such a God exists at all
and to instead identify God with humanity’s best impulses. In placing God within
the human heart, however, both Kirk and the filmmakers miss an opportunity to
explore the intriguing question of whether and how one might interpret the god
concepts not just of individual cultures but indeed of intelligent species separated
by galactic distances in a fashion that coheres in a single god concept without
erasing cultural differences. Star Trek V avoids these harder questions by collaps-
ing religious differences into a kind of weak pantheism or, even more weakly, an
appeal to pangalactic ideals.
R. Christopher Heard
See also: Catholicism; Gilliam, Terry; Science Fiction; Smith, Kevin.

Further Reading
Anker, Roy M. Catching Light: Looking for God in the Movies. Grand Rapids, MI:
William B. Eerdmans, 2004.
Cawkwell, Tim. The Filmgoer’s Guide to God. London: Darton, Longman and Todd, 2004.
Elkin, Frederick. “God, Radio, and the Movies.” Hollywood Quarterly 5, no. 2 (1950):
105–114.
 Greek and Roman Myths | 203

Pilkington, Ace G. “Star Trek V: The Search for God.” Literature/Film Quarterly 24, no. 2
(1996): 169–175.
Walsh, Richard. “Recent Fictional Portrayals of God, or: Disney, Shirley MacLaine, and
Hamlet.” In Culture, Entertainment, and the Bible, edited by George Aichele, 44–65.
Sheffield, UK: Sheffield Academic Press, 2000.

Greek and Roman Myths

Films inspired by classical literature, myth, and history have abounded since
the silent era, with a noticeable increase from the mid-1950s to the mid-1960s.
MGM’s production of Cleopatra (1963), with its cost overruns and scandals, is
generally considered to have made Hollywood wary of the large-scale classi-
cally themed epic. Nevertheless, films on classical themes appeared sporadically
throughout the 1970s and into the 1990s, when a resurgence of interest in the genre
became apparent. The popularity of the television series Hercules: The Legendary
Journeys (USA Network, 1995–1999)—and, more recently, of such classically
themed blockbusters as Gladiator (2000), Troy (2004), Alexander (2004), and 300
(2006)—indicates the renewed popularity of this kind of film.
The specific representation of classical myth in film has taken many forms.
One form provides a rendition of a specific work that recounts a myth. Exam-
ples include The Odyssey (1997), Troy, director Mihalis Kakogiannis’ The Trojan
Women (1971), Ifigeneia (Iphigenia, 1977), and even Pier Paolo Pasolini’s Edipo
Re (Oedipus Rex, 1967). Despite a modern setting and a new prologue in this last
film, the essence of Sophocles’ Oedipus the King and Oedipus at Colonus can
still be discerned. A second form attempts to retell an ancient myth without fol-
lowing a specific literary work. Examples include Teseo contro il minotauro (The
Minotaur, 1960), and Clash of the Titans (1981) as well as the numerous “Her-
cules” films of the 1960s and 1970s. A third form uses elements from or aspects
of myth in an entirely new context. Some films borrow ancient narrative patterns,
like the use of the Iliad in Unforgiven (1992) or the Odyssey in O Brother, Where
Art Thou? (2000). Others focus on mythological motifs like katabasis, or trip to
the underworld (often signifying death and rebirth); these include The Searchers
(1956), Apocalypse Now (1979), and Star Wars: Episode V—The Empire Strikes
Back (1980). The aspects of classical myth that receive emphasis in a film can also
vary. On the one hand, a film can emphasize the story of a myth (the sequence of
events) and turn this story into a cinematic narrative that is interesting and acces-
sible to a modern audience. On the other hand, films can emphasize the essential
meaning of the myth and pay less attention to the sequence of events.
204 | Greek and Roman Myths

One example of classical myth in film, Clash of the Titans, retells the myth of
Perseus, referred to frequently in classical literature, while condensing and alter-
ing the story in several important ways. In the traditional myth, the reader is pre-
sented with a heroic story with a quest (to obtain the Gorgon’s head), the denied
birthright (Perseus’ banishment by Acrisius), a damsel in distress (Andromeda and
the sea monster), gender anxiety (the threat of Medusa’s gaze), several wicked sur-
rogate parents (Acrisius and Polydectes), and the theme of mortal hubris and the
vengeance of the gods (Cassiopeia’s vanity). Perhaps the most striking difference
in the film is its emphasis on the love story. In the myth, Perseus falls in love with
Andromeda upon seeing her chained to the rock. In Clash of the Titans, he falls in
love with Andromeda much earlier in the plot, and most of the adventures in the
film are keyed toward the eventual reunion of the lovers. Perseus must first defeat
a made-up monster (Kalabos), to whom Andromeda had initially been betrothed.
Then Perseus must obtain the Gorgon’s head in order to defeat the sea monster
(here called the Kraken) who threatens Andromeda. As in the myth, it is Cassio-
peia’s vanity that nearly brings about the destruction of her daughter at the hands
of the sea monster. But in the film this episode is subordinated to the love story of
Perseus and Andromeda. Cassiopeia’s folly, as well as the Kraken himself, are just
more obstacles in the way of love. Hence the theme of the myth (the impossible
quest) is reduced to a subsidiary role within the context of the love story. Even
the denied birthright theme is short-circuited by Acrisius’ demise early in the film
at the hands of the Kraken. Spectacle is also obviously central to this film, as the
prominence of the special effects attests. Love and adventure take center stage in
this retelling of the Perseus myth.
The two versions of Jason and the Argonauts (1963; 2000) both perform simi-
lar transformations. In this myth, most famously portrayed in Apollonius’ Argo-
nautica, Jason, the rightful heir to the throne of Iolcus, is sent on a seemingly
impossible task—to obtain the Golden Fleece from King Aeetes at the edge of
the world—by his wicked uncle Pelias. Along the way Jason and his companions,
the Argonauts, encounter various obstacles and creatures. Upon reaching Aeetes’
kingdom, Jason is assisted by Medea, the king’s daughter, and her magic. Medea
then escapes with the Argonauts who return to Greece by a circuitous route.
Although the impossible quest narrative remains central to both modern versions,
they both play up the love story between Jason and Medea and downplay Jason’s
weakness and Medea’s treachery. Like Clash of the Titans, both versions are more
interested in presenting a heroic quest with an integral love story. The ambivalence
of Jason’s love for Medea, so pronounced in Apollonius’ version, is entirely ab-
sent from the modern versions. Indeed both resolve into the “happily ever after”
motif for the lovers; Jason is a suitably robust and moral male protagonist, with
none of the indecision and depression that characterizes his epic incarnation. Love
 Greek and Roman Myths | 205

prevails, and hence the love story tends to overshadow the thematic elements of
the ancient story. Troy does something similar to the story of Achilles, since the
character Briseis is turned from a war prize into a love interest. There is more to
Troy than this, but this preference to present a novelistic narrative pattern instead
of interrogating the “deep” meaning of the myth can be seen as a characteristic of
many modern cinematic retellings of classical myths.
A rather different cinematic approach to the Jason and Medea myth may be
seen in Pasolini’s Medea (1969) and Jules Dassin’s Kravigi Gynaikon (A Dream
of Passion, 1978). Both of these films dwell on Medea’s terrifying nature and her
ability to murder her children. Pasolini emphasizes cultural reasons (Medea “loses
her religion” in her transit to Greece/the West) while Dassin explores the psychol-
ogy of a “real” child killer in an actress’s attempt to play the role of Medea in a
production of the Euripides play. Pasolini portrays Medea’s anguish over human
sacrifice and ritual purification in her native culture, then her remorse at having re-
jected these very rites in her passage to Greece. She slaughters her children to take
revenge not on Jason per se but to re-embrace the sacred through human sacrifice
and to reject the secularism (and even nihilism) of Jason’s Greece. In A Dream
of Passion, the actress, Maya, attempts to understand the character of Medea by
visiting Brenda, a mother who is serving a life sentence for killing her children.
The film explores the tensions between Brenda’s ideologies (her religion, her ethi-
cal beliefs about marriage) and her love for her children. The film also hints at
the shared anguish of all women as Maya comes to identify with Brenda’s (and
Medea’s) pain. In these two films it is evident that the story/plot has been subor-
dinated to the exploration of meaning. What is important is the presentation of the
essential conflicts and “truths” found in the myth. These two films get at the heart
of the original myth in much the same way that Euripides’ tragedy does.
The emphasis on uncovering a myth’s meaning may also be seen in Cocteau’s
Orphée (Orpheus, 1950). As noted above, katabasis is a common motif found in
many modern films. The mythical journey to the underworld seems to signify the
death and rebirth (real or metaphorical) of the hero of the mythic narrative. One of
the most famous katabases in Greco-Roman myth is that of Orpheus, the putative
first poet, who goes to the underworld in search of his beloved Eurydice, who has
been snatched away by the god of death. This story has been treated cinematically
many times. In Cocteau’s version Orpheus, a modern poet, meets a mysterious
“princess” (his “death”) and becomes obsessed with her. Meanwhile, Eurydice,
Orpheus’ wife, is killed by the princess’s motorcyclists. Orpheus follows Eury-
dice to the “underworld” and obtains her return, only to lose her again by look-
ing at her. Then Orpheus himself is accidentally killed. In the end Orpheus and
Eurydice are returned to their comfortable bourgeois life through the self-sacrifice
of Heurtebise and the princess. Cocteau’s version presents a particular challenge
206 | Greek and Roman Myths

because the writer once claimed that the film, in spite of its modern setting and
modernist sensibilities, was no more than a retelling of the ancient myth. Indeed
the princess at one point in the film tells a befuddled Orpheus, “You try too hard
to understand—and that is a mistake.” These statements obviously raise problems
of meaning for both the film and for the myth. At the end of the film, Orpheus’
return to “normalcy” involves him forgetting his “descent” to the underworld. This
perhaps is a comment on Cocteau’s part upon the meaning (or meaninglessness) of
the katabasis theme of death and rebirth: in the film it is as if katabasis has never
happened.
In Troy, we are presented with a film version of Homer’s Iliad, in which the
gods have been removed and Achilles does not die until after Troy has fallen. The
film does, however, dwell on one central theme of the Iliad: mortality. The theme
of the mortality of the epic hero appears to be a very ancient one, going back as
least as far as the Gilgamesh story from the third millennium bce. In the Iliad,
Achilles has been told by his mother, the goddess Thetis, that he has a choice:
to live a short but glorious life or a long but obscure one. Achilles’ privileged
knowledge about his own death propels much of the tragedy of the Iliad. In Troy,
Achilles’ choice is dramatized by a tension between his almost reckless desire for
martial glory and his new-found attraction for Briseis (now a captured daughter of
Priam and priestess of Apollo). When Agamemnon threatens to take Briseis away
from Achilles and Achilles is about to kill Agamemnon, it is Briseis, not Athena,
who intervenes, saying “enough blood has been spilled.” In Troy, Briseis repre-
sents the world of peace and love that Achilles could have if he could give up his
penchant for seeking glory in war. In this way Briseis also serves as a constant re-
minder of the cost of war. In spite of all this, the inevitable tragic return of the epic
hero occurs when Patroclus, Achilles’ companion, is killed by Hector. Thereupon
Achilles kills Hector, then returns the body to Priam after mutilating it. So far so
good, the film matches the poem. Troy diverges, however, when Achilles releases
Briseis (symbolically renouncing what she represents while at the same time em-
bracing it). Then, after participating in the Trojan Horse stratagem, Achilles seeks
out Briseis, is shot down by Paris, and has a final moment of redemption. We are
left with the impression that Achilles finally “understands” what life is about and
what life is worth, and although he meets a tragic and somewhat antiheroic end
(killed by the weakling Paris), his internal conflict seems to have been resolved:
the life with love, even a short one, is worth it in the end.
The translation of classical myth into film inevitably involves strategies of “fa-
miliarization” that make the new versions accessible and interesting to a modern
audience. Films can alter the plot to a more recognizable pattern (the love stories
in Clash of the Titans and Jason and the Argonauts), remove the gods (as in Troy),
update the context (as in Orphée), or attempt to get at the myth’s “deep meaning”
 Greek and Roman Myths | 207

(as in the Medea films). Whatever approach they take, classically themed films
perpetually renegotiate the meaning of the myths they recount, sometimes leading
to a deeper vision of the original myth and sometimes creating something entirely
new.
Christopher Chinn
See also: Coen, Joel and Ethan; Coppola, Francis Ford; Myth; Pasolini, Pier
Paolo; Westerns.

Further Reading
Blundell, Mary Whitlock, and Kirk Ormand. “Western Values, or the Peoples’ Homer:
Unforgiven as a Reading of the Iliad.” Poetics Today 18, no. 4 (1997): 533–569.
Christie, Ian. “Between Magic and Realism: Medea on Film.” In Medea in Performance
1500–2000, edited by Edith Hall, Fionna Macintosh, and Oliver Taplin, 144–165.
Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press, 2000.
Clauss, James J. “A Course on Classical Mythology in Film.” Classical Journal 91 (1996):
287–295.
Elley, Derek. The Epic Film: Myth and History. London: Routledge, 1984.
Winkler, Martin M. “Classical Mythology and the Western Film.” Comparative Literature
Studies 22 (1985): 516–540.
H

Heaven

How can film create an image of the afterlife without reducing heaven to a series
of visual clichés? Visions of a holy and happy afterlife are notoriously difficult
to represent in cinematic form. If hell is no longer widely believed in as the final
dwelling place of those souls subjected to eternal punishment, it is often used as
an epithet for countless bleak and desperate locations on Earth. These nightmares
are frequently replicated on celluloid, appearing, for example, in the filthy battle-
fields of war movies and in the claustrophobic, deathly spaces that pervade the
many sub-genres of horror. Yet filmmakers have never quite found an appropriate
grammar with which to represent heaven. We are surrounded by violence, abuse,
greed, and destruction to such an extent that it becomes a familiar set of images.
The hope of heaven, by contrast, seems if not quite absurd, then certainly beyond
the scope of standard cinematic idiom. Redemption, resurrection, and eternal life:
all of these terms belong to what has been collectively named “the sublime”—a
form of experience that is unrepresentable or that exists beyond the limits of frail
and deceptive language. Screenwriters and directors continue to construct imagi-
native (if inevitably limited) interpretations of life after death and the possibility of
eternal redemption. Earlier models of the future life, even when no longer widely
believed, unavoidably influence even the most startlingly innovative cinematic vi-
sions of eternity. In contemporary western societies, visions of heaven, even in
post-Christian cultures, are dependent on forms of eschatology. What place can
such ideas find outside of traditional theology? In fact, the absence of a single
coherent religious faith that might act as a common bond in contemporary western
culture has given rise to more rather than fewer visions of heaven.
“Heaven” films frequently engage with material rather than spiritual issues.
A significant number of films blur the line between romantic and spiritual desire
but, at their best, challenge traditional ways of viewing the relationship between
film and religion. Successive generations of screenwriters and directors have

209
210 | Heaven

continually sought to envision a transcendent world, one that exists beyond the
present, material sphere, and these alternative, imagined versions of paradise il-
luminate both contemporary political and theological anxieties.
How can a film that emerges from the cruelty of world war conceive of a
peaceful afterlife? A Matter of Life and Death (1946), perhaps the most estheti-
cally impressive “heaven” film of the last century, is defined by a compelling
series of contradictions and defamiliarizing incongruities. Set in the final days of
the last century’s bloodiest global conflict and what should be the last moments
of a pilot’s life, this uncanny film mediates between a series of binary opposites;
the boundaries between skepticism and miracle, reality and fantasy, violence and
love, law and justice, transience and eternity are explored and ultimately viewed
as temporary fictions. The film wrestles not just with angels but, more specifi-
cally, with their mythic origin: it is both a comic masterpiece and a visual essay
on human constructions of the heavenly realm. For all the film’s metaphysical
concerns, A Matter of Life and Death has a very distinctive political context: it
materialized from the violent, uncertain years of World War II. The filmmakers
were working in a world traumatized by death as a daily occurrence, and this film,
from the melodramatic English title to its central narrative, is always conscious
of the fragility of human life. Yet what the film’s strange blending of heaven/
Earth, time/eternity, and reason/faith achieves is a new approach to representing
a world so bizarre that standard film conventions were no longer sufficient. In the
screenplay’s remarkable but straightforward movement between heaven and Earth,
A Matter of Life and Death has become an exemplary “two worlds” movie. The
concept was later used in the comedy Heaven Can Wait (1978), itself a remake of
Here Comes Mr. Jordan (1941). In this film, heaven is literally deferred and the
dead protagonist, along with the audience, is given only intimations of eternity via
a waiting station in the clouds (a classic cliché used to denote a benign supernatu-
ral world) and a now-entertainingly dated form of heavenly transport—a model
of the Concorde jet airplane that sits in the clouds waiting to take the righteous to
heaven. This motif of luxury reveals much about the way in which heaven might
have been viewed in the late 1970s: rather than as a space of eternal redemption,
the afterlife could simply be a place of earthly fulfillment. The rather simple, ma-
terialistic version of heaven resonates with scholars’ claims that images of the
afterlife have changed in American culture since World War II. Both Heaven Can
Wait and A Matter of Life and Death struggle to find a visual language to represent
eternity. They are both more confident in their depictions of the present, flawed,
material world. A Matter of Life and Death, however, uses an estranging cinematic
device to distinguish the movement between its “two worlds” of heaven and earth,
the alternative spaces of eternity and history. The director’s decision to shoot the
scenes of heaven in black and white with the action on Earth filmed in Technicolor
 Heaven | 211

is a brilliantly counterintuitive, reversing device used in The Wizard of Oz (1939),

one of the first films to make bold use of the new color technology. The pilot/
poet Peter Carter is determined to exploit the bureaucratic error in heaven that has
allowed him, perhaps briefly, to remain on earth and to fall in love. A simplistic
reading might suggest that by representing heaven as a monochrome bureaucracy
and the Earth as a vibrant, colorful paradise in which simple pleasures are a route
to happiness, the filmmakers were belittling any hope of eternal life. In fact, the
unexpected visual contrast prevents the heavenly realm from being pure spectacle
to be consumed by passive viewers. There is a distinctive contrast with more re-
cent visions of the afterlife, particularly Vincent Ward’s What Dreams May Come
(1998), in which heaven is viewed as subjective—and rather solipsistic—painterly
paradise. Ward’s film, one of a series of late 1990s attempts by Hollywood movies
to explore spirituality, constructs a gorgeous, computer-generated vision of eter-
nity; Chris Neilsen enters a heaven of his own choosing that is based on his wife’s
paintings. These images resemble romantic attempts to represent the sublime.
Although the images are striking, they also lack the otherness and the uncanny
peculiarity of the orderly, black-and-white future life that the dead heroes of World
War II enter in A Matter of Life and Death. This is partly because we know that
Neilsen is initially utterly at home in these paintings: rather than divine, these
vistas, beautiful as they are, seem to represent the limits of human creativity rather
than the limitless, impossible world of a divine kingdom. Yet cultural representa-
tions of heaven are always compromised by the artistic and philosophical con-
straints of their historical moment.
A safe, popular vision of heaven as a consumerist fantasy is not always con-
formed to by screenwriters and directors. Peter Carter’s dream of heaven is far
more troubling than a conventional, sentimental paradise. The image of thousands
of dead servicepeople—nurses, soldiers, airmen—as they walk, resurrected, the
streets of heaven must have been an enormous visual shock for audiences in 1946.
One of the most striking set pieces in the film is the celestial escalator that con-
nects heaven and Earth. In a film littered with literary allusion, this reworking of
the story of Jacob’s dream (Gen. 28:12) is one of the only explicit references to
the Bible. The brief appearance of John Bunyan, author of The Pilgrims Progress
(1678), the most famous Christian allegory in the English language, is a further al-
lusion that encourages a symbolic reading of this heavenly space. The U.S. title of
the film (Stairway to Heaven) makes the religious citations still more explicit. The
climactic courtroom drama, deployed to explore the distinctively nonspiritual but
rather secular or worldly issues of Anglo-American relations, also echoes biblical
imagery; the sequence anticipates eschatological ideas regarding the inevitability
of divine judgment. In a sense, these traditional theological ideas are subverted to
become a defense of human rather than divine love.
212 | Heaven

A figure missing from this view of heaven is God; A Matter of Life and Death
avoids the problem of representing the Godhead, presumably to avoid allegations
of blasphemy, but also to allow spectators to participate in imagining an alterna-
tive reality. A God-centered vision of heaven is frequently avoided in films that
attempt to imagine the afterlife. Theological accounts of the afterlife have tra-
ditionally emphasized the reconciliation between creator and created in a time
beyond human history. Yet God seems to be either hidden or nonexistent in many
heaven films. In What Dreams May Come, for example, the bemused Neilsen asks
his heavenly guide where God is in this paradise, only to be told, in strikingly
earthly terms, that the creator is somewhere above, looking down and offering
divine love from afar. Heaven Can Wait is almost entirely bereft of references to
divinity, judgment, or faith.
A Matter of Life and Death, by contrast, combines a skeptical tone—we are
told from the outset that the “other world” resides in Peter’s consciousness—with
a sincere hope that this violent and fractured world might yet be a space of po-
tential and realized miracles. The film might bear the traces of a distinctly British
romanticism in its allusions to Shakespeare, Shelley, Marvell, Yeats, and Words-
worth, but it is also strongly internationalist, particularly in its vision of heaven.
The tribute that it pays to America, for example, is that, at its best, the United
States has brought together multiple nationalities, religions, and traditions.
The use of the supernatural in an otherwise recognizable reality was not
unique; 1946 was also the year of another “two worlds” movie. Frank Capra’s
first postwar film, It’s a Wonderful Life (1946)—a famous box-office flop that
is now a sentimental fixture of festive viewing—also deals with the depressing
realities of life after the war via the collision of the angelic with the everyday. The
film’s forthright and witty use of the miraculous—in particular, its emphasis on
the intimate relationship between the everyday and the sacred—had an incalcu-
lable influence on future generations of moviemakers. It certainly foreshadows
the late-20th-century obsession with angels. Wim Wenders’s Der Himmel über
Berlin (Wings of Desire, 1987), for example, follows melancholy ministering an-
gels around the then divided city of Berlin and tracks the fine line between eternity
and fallen human history. In Bill & Ted’s Bogus Journey (1991), a comic fantasy
about the misadventures of two naïve Californian teenagers, the titular heroes are
brought before a heavenly court in what appears to be a conscious if playful allu-
sion to Peter Carter’s experience in A Matter of Life and Death.
Steven Spielberg’s Always (1989), a remake of A Guy Named Joe (1943), has
a similar narrative to A Matter of Life and Death and explores the intervention of
the supernatural world in the violence of war. Yet the experimental approach of
A Matter of Life and Death that pioneered this innovative blending of fantasy and
reality was not well received in the 1940s; the director was prepared to experiment
 Heaven | 213

with the visionary and strange, to rewrite the conventions of cinematic realism that
have become dominant in British cinema.
In their experiments with visionary experience, Powell and Pressburger prefig-
ured the postmodern re-enchantment of popular culture by several decades. A Mat-
ter of Life and Death is emphatically not a work of creedal Christian faith, but
it does attest to the limits of secular reason that had been challenged since World
War I; the widely accepted story of continual human progress and the fetish of
technological revolution was less credible after the shockingly inhumane ways in
which this scientific knowledge was used. The aura generated by the first and final
scenes of this strange film is less like simple magic—illusion and seductive visual
deceit—and closer to the troubling and transformative experience of miracle. In
the beginning, the film’s hero is facing an ending: the pilot faces death with wit,
dignity, courage, and hope for what might lie beyond. In the final frames of the
film, both Peter and June are prepared to sacrifice their own lives to save the other.
This offer of vicarious sacrifice—a reworking of scapegoat stories, including that
of Jesus—is the film’s most explicitly religious narrative strategy. Heaven, the
film suggests, can be discovered only via radical, selfless love. This emphasis on
willing personal sacrifice is an explicit echo of Jewish and Christian ideas. By
contrast, Heaven Can Wait and What Dreams May Come have a more syncretistic
approach to world religion: both films intimate at the possibility of reincarnation,
for example. The latter does draw on the image of the resurrected body but sug-
gests that this too is temporary and that eternity is only one alternative in an array
of possibilities, including that of being endlessly reborn on earth.
Paradoxically, one of the most arresting films to focus on themes of eternity
and the hope of redemption avoids deploying the supernatural almost entirely. Tom
Tykwer’s Heaven (2002), adapted from a screenplay by Krzysztof Piesiwicz and
the late Krzysztof Kieślowski—one of the most distinctively religious filmmak-
ers of the late 20th century—depicts a journey from sin to a mystical moment of
redemption. The film represents a collision between stark realism—set in contem-
porary Turin, the narrative is driven by a story of police corruption, drug dealing,
and an act of revenge—with an atmosphere that is closer to the strict economy of a
parable. Philippa’s violent action is portrayed vividly and sympathetically, but the
spectator, like the character, is also forced to recognize the consequences of her
actions. The escape enacted is not simply a matter of a criminal and her accom-
plice fleeing the police; it is a kind of pilgrimage toward repentance and possible
redemption. Controversially, the narrative implies that this salvation has nothing
to do with human law: Philippa confesses her sins to Filippo in a church but not
inside the confessional. The final image of the film is striking and bizarre; as the
stolen helicopter soars into the sky it disappears, inexplicably, and seems to merge
with heaven. It is a clear image of ascension. The characters avoid human law
214 | Hinduism

but it is implied that they willingly face divine justice. This moment might be de-
scribed as a kind of secular epiphany—a moment of intense personal revelation—
but the language of the film (including the title) is explicitly religious. Philippa
wants to be judged for her crimes and, unlike the other films discussed, those of
Tykwer, Kieślowski, and Piesiwicz explore the human search for heaven in a way
that seems dependent on notions of repentance, judgment, and possibly grace.
Can we judge a society or an individual on the basis of the ability to envision
a life beyond the present? If heaven is knowable only via dream, prophecy, and
speculation, these cinematic images, comic or elegant, bound up in the limits of
their historical moment, might help audiences to recover a sense of hope. Cinema
cannot replace the ongoing need for spiritual vision, but it can, in the unlikely
shapes projected by its temporary light, sustain the quest to rediscover paradise.
Andrew Tate
See also: Angels; Capra, Frank; God; Kieślowski, Krzysztof.

Further Reading
Fiddes, Paul S. The Promised End: Eschatology in Theology and Literature. Oxford, UK:
Blackwell, 2000.
Hughes, Robert. Heaven and Hell in Western Art. London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson,
1968.
Russell, Jeffrey Burton. A History of Heaven: The Singing Silence. Princeton, NJ: Princ-
eton University Press, 1997.
Wuthnow, Robert. After Heaven: Spirituality in America Since the 1950s. Berkeley: Uni-
versity of California Press, 1998.

Hinduism

The use of Hinduism in English language–accessible films falls into four catego-
ries: first, films made by non-Hindus who often use South Asian culture/religion
as exotica; second, films by American or English filmmakers of Indian heritage
that may use Hinduism to express diaspora cultural issues; third, films that focus
on religion to address social concerns; and fourth, films that focus specifically on
Hinduism. The presentation of religious traditions in each of these has variations,
but certain patterns are visible. These patterns seem to reflect the experience of
Hinduism in the larger cultural context of the filmmakers.
In films made by non-Indian westerners, romantic orientalism is the dominant
trend. Hinduism is used as the colorful “other” in both positive and negative ways,
 Hinduism | 215

but both treatments are extremely simplistic. Positive portrayals generally have
Hindu holy men or women bringing great wisdom to a troubled westerner who is
seeking meaning in life. An early example of this may be seen in the 1946 produc-
tion of The Razor’s Edge, based on Somerset Maugham’s novel of the same name.
The protagonist, who is dissatisfied with the emptiness of European society after
World War I, goes on a search for meaning that leads him to India and the guid-
ance of a Hindu guru. But no time is devoted to the teachings of the guru, and the
audience never gets to actually hear any great philosophies expounded. There is
an assumption that the guru is wise because he is an exotic figure, not because of
defined actions or dialogue.
Orientalism also operates by selecting a few aspects of Hinduism for empha-
sis while avoiding the complexity of lived religion. In negative treatments, this
leads to a focus on deity imagery and rituals that are considered unacceptable by
western standards. The rich iconic traditions of India, with multiarmed deities
and half-animal gods, still trigger the “idolatry” reflex in many outsiders. Daily
ritual offerings to those images are part of everyday Hinduism in both homes
and temples. Films seeking the most “exotic” imagery focus on temple rituals in
which priests chant (untranslated) Sanskrit hymns while sacrificing animals or
even people to the idols. The most infamous example of this is Indiana Jones and
the Temple of Doom (1984), in which Indiana Jones accidentally lands in a north
India community being terrorized by a group of Kali worshipers. The priest of the
goddess Kali has enslaved the village children to work in mines and enforces his
rule with periodic rituals during which he makes offerings of human hearts taken
from still-living victims.
Although the film has been universally condemned by Hindus for taking a
historical detail (there was a cult of assassins called Thugees who worshipped
the goddess Kali) and seemingly presenting it as normative Hinduism, the film is
intriguing for its presentation of Hinduism as efficacious magic. The priest really
does have the ability to manipulate people in ways that are beyond the norm. The
villagers are experiencing a drought and famine caused by the priest’s theft of their
Shiva-lingam, a stone idol of Shiva; later, when Indiana Jones chants a Sanskrit
prayer to three Shiva-lingams, the stones heat up and burn the priest, causing him
to fall to his death. At the end of the film, these idols are returned to their villages
along with the liberated children; rain and prosperity are presumed to follow. This
is entirely in keeping with Hindu village traditions about fertility and prosperity
resulting from honoring the gods.
The distinction between the positive and negative uses of Hinduism in these
films is largely a difference in emphasis—one focuses on philosophy and the other
on ritual. The philosophies are perceived as full of wisdom that may be useful to
westerners, whereas the rituals are seen as foreign and weird, part of a premodern,
216 | Hinduism

magical worldview. And yet the fascination these “weird” rituals hold for the west-
ern audience, and the efficacy with which they are credited in the films, may in-
dicate a subconscious belief that in some way these too might be meaningful for
the westerner. Having reached a point in which non-Christian philosophy is under-
stood to be as legitimate as Christian philosophy, there is now a growing interest
in non-Christian rituals, perhaps because middle-class Protestant Christianity has
so few rituals of its own.
Movies made by Indian American and Indian English filmmakers tend to treat
Hinduism as a cultural category rather than an active religion. The main charac-
ters in these films are second-generation residents of western countries, the big-
gest issues with which they struggle having to do with the differences between
their parents’ old-world expectations and the new-world cultures to which they
belong. One rarely sees a character engaged in personal religious practices such
as puja, meditation, or visiting a temple, but there is usually a traditional wedding
performed by a priest. These wedding scenes do not include commentary or ex-
planation, so the ritual is a visual part of the culture rather than an active form of
religious practice. The priest does not inform the audience of the meanings behind
the ritual elements (walking around the fire, repeating Sanskrit prayers, use of
kumkum, turmeric, and henna, eating certain foods), and the characters do not ask
questions or express interest in understanding these proceedings. The wedding is
simply a cultural ritual, a dynamic wallpaper at the back of the scene.
A particularly striking example of this may be seen in Bride and Prejudice
(2004), loosely based on Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice (1813). This film
uses misunderstandings based on culture to create a conflict and romance between
an American hotelier named William Darcy and a Punjabi woman named Lalita.
The Golden Temple of Amritsar, the center of the Sikh religion, appears in the
background of several scenes, and yet Darcy, who seems singularly ignorant about
India for a man whose college roommate and friend is Punjabi, never asks about
it. Hindu Lalita wants him to have greater respect for her country and its cultural
traditions, but when she takes him on a tour and tries to impress him, she never
mentions religion or takes him to any religious sites. The avoidance of religion as
spiritual tradition is even more striking in a wedding scene. Darcy has come to
Amritsar with his friend Balraj to attend a wedding, after which the two will go
to Goa to check out a possible hotel acquisition. The film presents a traditional
wedding scene during which Darcy cannot take his eyes off of Lalita. In earlier
scenes, Balraj had explained some of the cultural traditions to his clueless Ameri-
can friend, but no one explains the wedding ritual and Darcy asks no questions,
even as he sees the bride and groom, with their clothing knotted together, circum-
ambulating the sacred fire while a priest chants in Sanskrit. This is in keeping with
the pattern of other films such as Monsoon Wedding (2001), where the wedding
 Hinduism | 217

ritual is part of the culture and is not presented as a spiritual event, but the lack
of any interest in the meaning of the ritual is made more noticeable in Bride and
Prejudice by the presence of an American character who asks no questions and is
offered no explanations.
A few filmmakers have taken this very disjunction and used it to express the
cultural divide between the first and second generations of South Asians living in
western countries. A good example of this is ABCD (1999)—“American-born con-
fused Desi,” referring to Indians born in western countries and struggling to find
their own sense of identity—where Hinduism divides the generations. In ABCD,
a devout mother, who has raised her children in the United States, utilizes Hindu
rituals to pray for the welfare of her son and daughter and consults an astrologer
to arrange marriages for them. But her grown children have no interest in their
natal religion; they go to temple only if their mother insists on it and they barely
take part in the service when there. In one scene, Raj, the son, tells his sister Nina
that the images make him uncomfortable because their eyes seem to follow him
wherever one goes. The images seem to symbolize the burden of Indian culture for
two people who wish to be fully “American.” Nina finally expresses her rejection
of this burden by marrying a European American in a church. To her, church wed-
dings are “happy” and celebrate love, whereas Hindu weddings are sorrowful and
symbolize a culture that oppresses women. Wedding rituals are treated as cultural
symbols rather than religious activities.
In most Indian films (many of which are available with English subtitles),
Hinduism is part of the daily life and is simply incorporated into the movies as
part of the cultural context. In these cases, it is usually not a major focus. But
some filmmakers use religion to explore social issues, like women’s experiences
and political communalism. Perhaps one of the most striking uses of this motif oc-
curs in Phoolan Devi (Bandit Queen, 1994). Phoolan Devi is a low-caste girl who
was abused by her husband and his family and has ended up living among ban-
dits. The few decent people she encounters are depicted as being strongly devout
even though they are living outside regular society. Vikram, the man with whom
Phoolan Devi has a fairly stable relationship, sets up a protection racket and uses
the village shrine as the location for pledging to protect the village in exchange for
payment. He engages in regular religious rituals, such as morning puja at the river
(gun in hand), and also takes money from slain bandits to give to the poor. He is re-
spectful of women because he believes in the Hindu identification of women with
the goddess. Religion plays the same roles in the bandits’ lives as in regular village
life. In setting out on a new venture, the bandits go to the temple to pray, but here
the venture for which they seek blessings is one of vengeance. When Phoolan Devi
beats her former husband in revenge for his treatment of her as a child bride, she
claims to feel the kind of peace that comes from going on a pilgrimage. When she
218 | Hinduism

finally loses all options and is about to be arrested, she feels that the goddess must
be angry with her.
Two major themes emerge here. First, traditional devotional behavior signi-
fies a decent person like Vikram, who may be a bandit, but has a code of ethics.
The same theme occurs in other Indian films where seeing a character perform
religious activities tells the audience that this person is virtuous. Second, depicting
the bandits as taking part in Hindu (and Muslim) religious practices makes them
part of the larger Indian culture. The viewer is confronted with the fact that these
people are part of Indian society and they are not bandits simply because they have
rejected social values. By including religion in bandit life, the film broadens the
perspective beyond simple moral claims to force the audience to consider larger
cultural issues.
Satyajit Ray also does this in the film Devi (The Goddess, 1960), in which he
examines social and family dynamics in late-19th-century India by depicting the
life of a young wife who comes to be seen by her father-in-law as a manifestation
of the goddess Kali. Here, the filmmaker looks at the ramifications of the Hindu
belief in human deities, not as a philosophical issue but as it relates to relation-
ships, especially the role of women within the family and society. The “modern”
husband tries to rescue his wife from her role as goddess, but she herself has be-
come convinced of it by the miraculous recovery of a sick child brought into her
presence. Later, when she fails to cure her beloved nephew, she goes mad and runs
away. The story uses Hinduism to explore the stresses women face living in their
husbands’ family homes and also the difficulties between the generations as sons
move into a world of knowledge that differs from that of their fathers.
Ray makes similar use of Hinduism to explore how faith beliefs may compro-
mise wisdom in Ganashatru (An Enemy of the People, 1989). In this film, a doctor
tries to warn his industrialist brother that the holy water in the local temple may be
contaminated by poor pipes. Because of religious beliefs about the purity of holy
water and financial concerns about compromising the value of a temple that brings
wealth from pilgrims, no one will listen to him. The doctor comes to be seen as the
enemy rather than a man trying to protect people. The film is based on Ibsen’s An
Enemy of the People (1882), but Hinduism provides the setting for contemplating
how good intentions can fail in the face of stubborn faith and how tradition clashes
with modernity.
Mystic Masseur (2001) is a lighter film about Hinduism and politics. Set in
1940s Trinidad, the story follows the life of Ganesh, who settles in a village to
write books. Instead of great novels, however, he produces books on questions and
answers about Hinduism. He becomes a success as a masseur with a reputation for
healing, after learning to spice up his presentation with a turban and some “spiri-
tual” touches. He then gains such status in the local community that he becomes
 Hinduism | 219

a politician. The film does not really denigrate the mixture of religion, money,
and politics, it just observes the way a reputation for spirituality elevates a person
in the eyes of others. Since one of the issues over which the politicians compete
is who represents true Hinduism, this film can be seen as a comment on the way
politicians all over the world use religion to build communal ties. But it is also one
of the few films to make Hinduism an important part of the characters’ lives.
Finally, there are films that focus on Hinduism. A whole genre of films de-
picting Hindu myths exists in India, but only a few are available in English. One
notable entry in this area is The Mahabharata (1989) production put together
by Peter Brooks, who used an international cast to symbolize the universality of
Hindu teachings. The film records a stagelike production of the great epic, focus-
ing on some of the most famous episodes from the story about the battle between
the Pandavas and the Kauravas. The scenes chosen for the film emphasize the
Hindu philosophy from the epic, illustrating how to live a moral life by doing
one’s duty to family and society without being attached to the physical or social
world. There are also examples of the power of devotion and God’s role in ensur-
ing that order triumphs over chaos. Rituals appear in scenes to provide the actors
with busy work, but they are not explained, since the primary focus is the universal
philosophy rather than the culturally specific ritual activity. Although made for an
international audience, the production requires that viewers enter into the world-
view of the myth without any extra explanation about who the gods are or how the
society is organized, and this can make the film confusing.
Sometimes the effort to make a film universal actually de-Hinduizes a subject
that should include Hinduism. One remarkable example of this is the film Gandhi
(1982), which manages to portray Mahatma Gandhi as a Hindu saint without in-
cluding a single scene of a temple or a daily household ritual. There are no yogis
or sadhus (renouncers) in any of the crowd scenes and Gandhi is never seen inter-
acting with any other religious people. There is no mention of Hindu beliefs, and
the only reference to a scripture comes in a scene in which Gandhi makes passing
reference to the “Gita” and the Qur’an in the same sentence. When assassinated,
Gandhi says “Oh God” rather than the Hindu term “Ram.” Perhaps the filmmaker
thought Hinduism too complicated a subject to explain, or perhaps he wanted to
universalize Gandhi and make him an ethical example for any person regardless
of religious affiliation. But the elimination of all reference to the traditions that
shaped the Mahatma’s personal philosophy seems curious.
A reverse pattern is evident in films that attempt to express Hindu philosophy
without including Indian culture. The Legend of Bagger Vance (2000), adapted
from the book of the same title, transposes the Bhagavad Gita onto a golf course.
There, the lessons about seeking to understand one’s true self-nature and learning
to act without attachment to the fruits of one’s actions are conveyed during the
220 | Holidays

battle of a golf tournament. The ideas do, of course, shift slightly when taken out
of their original cultural context. The caste system of ancient India, which sets
some of the context for the scripture, is not part of the film world, and karma in
relation to golf is not quite the same as karma in relation to the cycle of rebirth.
But it is an interesting attempt to present Hindu ideas to a non-Hindu audience in
a way that lets people focus on the ideas rather than the romantic trappings.
When Hinduism is treated positively in English-language films, it is usually as
a source of exotic wisdom or as a universal teaching. It is valued in western films
as a source of philosophy—not as a tradition enriched by rituals, art, music, dance,
food, and all the devotional practices of daily life. Western films are more likely
to use the ritual aspects of Hinduism negatively, to empower evil characters. Films
made by Indian Americans also include Hindu ritual, but they use it to express the
disjunction between the parental generation, which practices these rites, and the
Americanized children who may not be comfortable in temples. Hinduism becomes
a cultural symbol rather than a source of spirituality. Films made in India present a
fuller vision of Hinduism and use it to comment on social issues such as inequality,
women’s lives, politics, and modernization. The uses of Hinduism in film reflect
the many roles it plays in the lives of those who make and view the films.
Cybelle Shattuck
See also: Bollywood.

Further Reading
Derné, Steve. “Market Forces at Work: Religious Themes in Commercial Hindi Films.” In
Media and the Transformation of Religion in South Asia, edited by Lawrence A. Babb
and Susan S. Wadley, 191–216. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1995.
Dwyer, Rachel. Filming the Gods: Religion and Indian Cinema. New York: Routledge, 2006.
O’Connor, Garry. The Mahabharata: Peter Brook’s Epic in the Making. San Francisco:
Mercury House, 1990.
Vasudevan, Ravi. Making Meaning in Indian Cinema. New Delhi: Oxford University
Press, 2000.

Holidays

Films involving holidays have been around since the early days of cinema—
including such silent films as A Christmas Carol (1908) and The Right to be Happy
(1916), and, since the 1940s, holiday films like Holiday Inn (1942) and It’s a Won-
derful Life (1946). Films of this kind have become an established genre. Although
 Holidays | 221

many consist of plots in which the holiday component is atmospheric, there are a
number of movies in which a holiday is central to the theme. Frequently religion
even enters as a primary element of the holiday portrayed, revealing something of
relationship between religion and holidays in American culture.
The analysis of this relationship is by no means a new field. Recent studies
have contributed critical insights on the dynamic relationship between holidays
and religion; however, none have focused exclusively on the depiction of this re-
lationship in film.
Based on the role religion plays in relation to the depiction of the holiday,
holiday films can be grouped into three general types. The first category examines
how religion is presented in the film, either explicitly or implicitly. The second
identifies the type of religion featured in the film, either cosmological or transcen-
dental. And the third category is predicated on a paradox and/or inversion in the
depiction of various components of the holiday, its portrayal, or in the way it is
traditionally understood.
Holiday films in which religious themes are explicitly presented are the easiest
to recognize, since they present religion overtly in the context of the holiday being
depicted. However, movies that merely contain a scene in a cathedral or a scene

Jimmy Stewart as George Bailey, wandering Bedford Falls, in It’s a Wonderful Life, 1946. AP Photo.
222 | Holidays

with a crèche in the background are not explicitly religious. Explicitly religious
films not only contain religious ideas and imagery but the religious features are
also essential to the plot. Thus films presenting the birth narrative of Christ—for
example, The Nativity (1986) and The Nativity Story (2006)—are explicitly reli-
gious. Their release during the Christmas season also tie them to the Christmas ex-
perience in the United States. With commercials on television and posters in malls
advertising them, these films are insinuated as part of the holiday celebration.
Some explicitly religious films become identified with holidays because of
when they are released or rebroadcast. The Passion of the Christ (2004) is an
explicitly religious film that has become part of the Easter holiday in America
because it was rereleased in March of 2005. The film, which is a depiction of the
crucifixion and (ironically) not the resurrection, is nonetheless promoted as part of
the Easter holiday tradition. The Ten Commandments (1956), the cinematic retell-
ing of the Exodus story, is another example of an explicitly religious film that is
considered a holiday film, mostly because it is traditionally broadcast on Easter
weekend. Therefore, just as films depicting the birth of Christ function within
Christmas (and Easter), viewing The Ten Commandments has become part of the
holiday experience. Although the Exodus narrative is not part of the Christian res-
urrection narrative but rather central to the Jewish holiday of Passover, which falls
at roughly the same time as Easter—watching this film is still considered by many
Christians to be an inherent part of their Easter tradition.
Although explicitly religious holiday films are not difficult to identify, im-
plicitly religious holiday films can be more of a challenge. Such movies are not
grandiose visual presentations of unmistakably religious narratives; rather, they
are holiday films in which the overall theme or message is religious in character.
Perhaps the most commonly encountered implicitly religious holiday films are
those that convey the idea of the “Christmas spirit,” which is often understood as
an overwhelming feeling of munificence and generosity experienced during the
Christmas season. Whether it is an overly kind bestowing of largesse or generous
words, the Christmas spirit causes someone to act in a charitable manner. The
most powerful portrayals of this Christmas spirit are those that focus on a callous
individual who is transformed through the power of this inescapable spirit and
who then immediately seeks redemption through an act of uncharacteristic kind-
heartedness. Examples include the various retellings of Charles Dickens’s novel
A Christmas Carol (1843) and the various versions of the “Dr. Seuss” book How
the Grinch Stole Christmas! (1957), written by Theodor Seuss Geisel.
When religion is present in holiday films, it appears as either cosmological
(locating the ultimate power in nature) or transcendental (locating the ultimate
power apart from nature). Cosmological religion seems to be the more common
of the two in both implicitly and explicitly religious films: both The Santa Clause
 Holidays | 223

trilogy (The Santa Clause [1994]; The Santa Clause 2 [2002]; The Santa Clause 3:
The Escape Clause [2006]) and The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993) are all
implicitly religious holiday films containing cosmological religious themes, while
The Ten Commandments and The Passion of the Christ are explicitly religious
holiday films that also contain predominantly cosmological religious themes.
The Nightmare Before Christmas is an excellent example of a holiday film
proliferating with cosmological imagery. The protagonist, Jack Skellington, is a
shamanlike character for Halloween town—“The Pumpkin King,” as he is called
to by the townspeople. He has exclusive access to the sacred, Halloween, and
the various Halloween rituals cannot properly be done without him, much like
the tribal rituals of primal cultures. Parallel to Jack’s status in Halloween town is
Santa Claus in Christmas town; when Jack attempts to usurp Santa and perform
the rituals of Christmas town, chaos ensues. The shamanistic roles of both Jack
Skellington and Santa Claus are essential to the plot.
Although The Ten Commandments and The Passion of the Christ are certainly
sacred narratives of transcendental religions, the themes of these holiday films
are strikingly cosmological. The Ten Commandments presents the story of Moses
becoming a shaman; his staff (which possesses mystical powers), his exclusive ac-
cess to the sacred, and his status as the only spiritual leader of the Hebrews qualify
him as a shaman. Since The Ten Commandments is essentially the tale of a shaman
leading a nomadic tribal society through adversity and hardships, it accentuates
the cosmological dimensions of the biblical narrative.
The Passion of the Christ is also a primarily cosmological film. Whereas the
idea of a transcendental deity is certainly present, the very notion that Jesus is an
incarnated form of God is inherently cosmological. This film tells the story of the
presumed messiah’s last hours on earth before he is sacrificed for the iniquities
of the world, an analogy to animal sacrifices performed by various other ancient
civilizations. With its focus on the sacrifice and not the resurrection, The Passion
of the Christ depicts an innately cosmological narrative.
In the third category, paradox or inversion films depict various components
of the holiday in an exceedingly ironic and incongruous manner, and traditional
portrayals and understandings of the holiday are inverted and shown paradoxi-
cally. Religion is often implicitly presented, but within the context of the inversion;
meaning that the paradoxical presentation of the various components of the holiday
provide the framework within which the implicitly religious themes must develop.
One such example, National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation (1989), is a wild
tale of how the Griswolds’ plan to have an “old fashioned family Christmas” turns
into a circus of bad luck and unforgettable mishaps. The typical Christmas rituals
are ridiculously magnified and every aspect of a traditional American Christmas is
inverted and turned in to a disaster; Clark Griswold completely covers the exterior
224 | Holidays

of his home with lights, the family cat is electrocuted by the Christmas tree lights,
the Christmas tree catches fire, and cousin Eddie kidnaps Clark’s boss because
he did not give Clark the Christmas bonus he expected. However, the implicitly
religious themes of transformation and redemption appear in this wacky Christ-
mas story; Clark’s boss experiences that ever-present spirit of Christmas and gives
every employee the Christmas bonus he or she deserves. The paradox/inversion
aspect of the film is most apparent at the end, when a lit cigar ignites sewage in
the front yard and launches a Santa decoration into the air. The movie ends as the
Christmas spirit manifests itself in everyone as they all watch this flaming Santa
soar through the sky.
Another example of paradox/inversion, Bad Santa (2003), is a story about
Willy Soke, a womanizer, alcoholic, and criminal who happens to play Santa
Claus in the mall each Christmas. Actor Billy Bob Thornton’s portrayal of Claus
is an obvious inversion of the iconic, godlike depiction of Santa that has been an
established part of American culture since the late 19th century; even his elf is a
criminal married to a prostitute. Santa and elf work in a different mall each Christ-
mas season, robbing the mall safe on Christmas Eve before they leave town. How-
ever, this Christmas season is different because of Soke’s encounter with a young
boy (“the kid,” as he nicknames him), whom he finds to be rich and therefore a
good robbery target. However, the implicitly religious themes of transformation
and redemption move Soke to give the kid a Christmas gift and to write a note
confessing his crimes. The film ends with a transformed Soke intending to form a
family with the kid and his mother.
Films in the “holiday film” genre provide us with some insight into what is
most meaningful in our various holidays. Regardless of the category into which
the film is placed, the ideas of transformation, redemption, and altruism are often
present, and the popularity of this motif reveals and reinforces deeply held Ameri-
can beliefs and values. Although religion is not explicitly presented in most holi-
day films, it is present implicitly in nearly all of them, frequently through the
theme of transformation. This implicit presence of religion permeates American
culture and is thus reflected in films that portray some of America’s most treasured
experiences—the experiences related to the observation of religious holidays.
Don Surrency
See also: Jesus; The Passion of the Christ Controversy; Protestantism; Ritual.

Further Reading
Connelly, Mark, ed. Christmas at the Movies: Images of Christmas in American, British,
and European Cinema. New York: I. B. Tauris, 2000.
 Holocaust, The | 225

deChant, Dell. The Sacred Santa: Religious Dimensions of Consumer Culture. Cleveland,
OH: Pilgrim Press, 2002.
Horsley, Richard, and James Tracy, eds. Christmas Unwrapped: Consumerism, Christ,
and Culture. Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 2001.
Marling, Karal. Merry Christmas! Celebrating America’s Favorite Holiday. Cambridge,
MA: Harvard University Press, 2000.
Schmidt, Lee Eric. Consumer Rites. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1995.

Holocaust, The

Discussing and evaluating Holocaust films that address religion requires aware-
ness of two significant questions about the relationships between art and the Holo-
caust: Can art deal with a disaster and atrocities of the magnitude of the Holocaust
in a meaningful and authentic way? More particularly, what of cinematic art’s
ability to record, interpret, and evaluate the Holocaust?
The answers have led to a number of perspectives that shape our understand-
ing of what is at stake in representing the Holocaust in any medium. Generally
these perspectives suggest limits to Holocaust representation—limits that define
what makes artists and viewers morally uneasy about a representation’s claim to
truth; that define the balance between memory and forgetting tipping back and
forth as survivors and new generations of Jews and Gentiles work through their
relationship to the event in art and cinema; and that define representations of the
Holocaust that have been made to serve a number of political, social, and cultural
ideologies and agendas. Three key themes emerge related to these perspectives:
God’s absence; the fate of Judaism and Jewish rituals after being severely threat-
ened and tested by this catastrophe; and the complex nature of Christian–Jewish
relationships, whose connections and tensions result either in positive support,
conversion, or betrayal.
The first theme’s theological focus asks if God deserted the Jews, and if so,
why? In Eli Cohen’s The Quarrel (1991), two long-lost friends who had survived
the Holocaust heatedly debate the issue. Chaim, now a secular Jew and a writer,
charges that God betrayed his people and did nothing to stop the destruction, es-
pecially of the children. He asserts that God should be put on trial. Hersh, who has
become a rabbi, responds that the Jews abandoned God, not vice versa, and that
mankind was to blame for this evil. The argument ends in a stalemate.
Questions about God’s position during the Holocaust also arise in Andras Je-
les’s film Senkiföldje (Why Wasn’t He There? 1993). During the Nazi occupation
of Hungary, 13-year-old Eva records in her diary the rise of anti-Semitism and
226 | Holocaust, The

the gradual dissolution of her world. Through her, audiences witness various dep-
redations to her family and to the Jews in her town—curfews, confiscations of
Jewish households, deportation to Poland and to labor camps, the fear and anxiety
that gradually engulf the adults around her. As Eva’s life descends into misery
and hopelessness, she finds solace and an emotional correlative, in the character
of David Copperfield from the Charles Dickens’s novel; but scenes of countless
deportations function as confirmation that there will be no deliverance from evil
for her.
A final and perhaps more subtle issue raised in some films focuses on whether
or not there will be divine punishment and retribution for these crimes against
humanity. Though not as explicitly stated, this is explored in Paul Mazursky’s En-
emies, A Love Story (1989), Sidney Lumet’s The Pawnbroker (1964), and George
Stevens’s The Diary of Anne Frank (1959), wherein the pain of loss seems to carry
with it a desire for ultimate justice. Yet in all these films, the arguments, thoughts,
and implications about God’s presence or absence remain unresolved, and ques-
tions about retribution and final judgment go unanswered.
The second theme focuses on questions of religious and cultural continuity.
A number of films show Jews deepening their religious commitments in the midst
of, and despite, violence, deprivation, and suffering. In arguments with his friend
Chaim in The Quarrel, Hersh still looks to God and believes in His intercessions
and in His gifts and provisions to mankind. As for the Holocaust, mankind, not
God, is to blame. In response to Chaim’s claim that what makes people moral and
care for others resides in us as human beings, Hersh counters that there is a great
need for a higher being. Only God can provide meaning, protect us, and give us
hope to overcome our human frailties, especially the limitations of reason. Hersh
now teaches the Torah to young Jews at a yeshiva, and he urges Claim to return
to one—to return to the kind of educational and cultural center in which they had
studied together in Poland before the Holocaust. They part as friends, but only
Hersh remains committed to Judaism.
The Frank and Van Daan families in The Diary of Anne Frank both remain
faithful to Judaism during their ordeal of confinement in an attic while hiding
from the Nazis. Otto Frank, Anne’s father, even conducts school for the children
to teach them Jewish traditions. Together they celebrate Hannukah. They ask for
God’s blessing and hope for deliverance, like their ancestors thousands of years
before. Their continued confinement stimulates Anne to want to believe in some-
thing and to appreciate the freedom and beauties of the outside world. As Anne
muses further about God, she looks to the open sky, birds, and clouds that symbol-
ize both the promise of heaven, or (in the case of the clouds) the fate of those sent
to the crematoriums. Nevertheless, Anne remains optimistic and retains her faith
in a universal order which “we are too little to understand.”
 Holocaust, The | 227

More challenging are those films that focus on Jews who depart from or cast
away Judaism. In Henry Bean’s The Believer (2001), Danny, a Jew, embraces
Neo-Nazism and blames the Jews for not standing up to the Nazis in the camps.
In an interchange between his group of skinheads and Holocaust survivors, Danny
calls the survivors unprincipled cowards for not resisting and then asserts that he
and his friends have nothing to learn from them. Significantly, when Danny and
his friends raid a Jewish temple, he reacts strongly against the mishandling of
the Torah; he takes it away from the others and tries to repair the damage. Subse-
quently, he finds himself drawn to a woman who wants to learn more about the
Torah. In the final act, Danny’s conflicted loyalties lead him to save the lives of his
old Jewish schoolmates by urging them to leave the synagogue where he himself
had planted explosives set to detonate during High Holiday services. Danny dies
in the explosion and, at the end of the film, is seen running up stairs. Is he ascend-
ing to heaven as a believing Jew or does he remain forever on the stairs, never
arriving at a final destination?
The films Sunshine (1999) and Europa, Europa (1990) deal with situations
in which Jews must abjure Judaism or hide their Jewish identity in order to adapt
to political systems or survive the Nazis. Istvan Szabo’s Sunshine follows three
generations of the Hungarian Sonnenschein family as they make political and so-
cial bargains that they hope will propel them forward in the Gentile world. Ignaz
changes the family’s Jewish name to the more Hungarian Schorsch, a name they
will keep for three generations. Later, to advance a career in fencing, his son Adam
becomes a Roman Catholic, raising the question of where his loyalties ultimately
lie—with Judaism, his country, or fencing. Despite all these maneuvers, as the
Holocaust develops Adam still faces anti-Semitism and various state-sponsored
restrictions on Jews. When the Nazis enter Hungary, Adam is sent to a camp where
his son Ivan sees him beaten to death. When the Communists take over after World
War II, Ivan joins them and becomes a police investigator. Eventually, prejudices
against Jews as conspirators against the Communist regime arise, and when Ivan
wants to acquit a Holocaust survivor, he is warned to be careful or he himself
could be investigated. At the film’s end, Ivan leaves the police force, changes his
name back to Sonnenschein, and returns to Judaism. He now feels that he can
breathe freely and looks to religion “as a boat to get you to the safe shore.”
The focus of Agnieszka Holland’s Europa, Europa is on the life of young
Solomon Perel, who assumes different roles to survive the Holocaust. To escape
the Nazis, Solly and his brother Isaak leave their family in Lodz and go further
east, where they are separated. Solly ends up with the Russians and is taught Com-
munist doctrine, especially the tenet that religion is the opiate of the masses. In a
letter, his father urges him to remain faithful to Judaism and to remember his roots,
but Solly must maintain the appearance of a Communist. When Hitler invades
228 | Holocaust, The

Russia, Solly is captured by the Germans and changes his identity to survive. He
assumes the German name Josef Peters and gains favor because he can translate
Russian for the German military leaders. In a meeting with an officer, he is told
that this conflict is a holy war against the Jews.
Later, as he works his way into the good graces of the Germans, they decide to
send him (as Josef Peters) to a Hitler Youth school. In his new identity, he swears
allegiance to Hitler and becomes an inside witness to anti-Jewish hatred and Nazi
rituals. He is taught all the stereotypical attitudes and beliefs about the heinous Jews
and the perfect Nordics. But he is also at risk of revealing the one ineffaceable mark
of his Jewish identity, his circumcision, a bodily reminder of the covenant between
Jews and God. Through a painful stratagem, Solly manages to pass, and, ironically,
he is declared to be a true Aryan. When the war turns against the Nazis, Solly defects
to the Russians and tells them he is a Jew, but, in another irony, he is not believed.
He is about to be killed when his brother Isaak miraculously appears and saves him.
Once the brothers are reunited, Solly finds out that the rest of his family was mur-
dered. Therefore he returns to Judaism and migrates to Israel. His life illustrates the
psychological costs of religious “passing” during the war as well as the solace and
“naturalness” of self-selected Jewish community.
One last variation of this second theme, from Enemies, A Love Story, concerns
the seeming absence of religious morality and belief in God among Holocaust
survivors. Adapted from the novel by Isaac Bashevis Singer, the story revolves
around Herman Broder, now a ghostwriter for an American rabbi, who tries to
juggle three relationships—with his Polish wife Jadwiga (with whom he currently
lives), with his Jewish mistress Masha, and with his first wife Tamara, who he
thought was killed in the camps but who unexpectedly returns, as if from the dead.
They live their lives without faith or rituals, although Jadwiga, a Polish Christian
who saved Herman’s life, persuades him to maintain some Jewish religious cus-
toms, primarily because she wants to keep him from straying. Indeed, Masha (also
a survivor) and Herman question God’s presence and concern for them, and both
prefer to lose themselves in a life of passionate, sensual pleasures. Tamara, on the
other hand, embodies a stoic attitude toward the absence of God. She seems to ac-
cept the injustices of human existence; expert at managing her pain, she offers to
help Herman manage his life. Herman, though, is looking for an escape from the
trauma of the Holocaust. At one point, under pressure from Jadwiga, he makes a
stab at keeping the holidays and traditional observance; however, Herman’s solu-
tion to the issue of his three “wives” is to disappear. After failing to follow through
on his suicide pact with Masha, Herman simply runs away, leaving Jadwiga and
her child under Tamara’s care and sending them occasional letters with money. As
a figure of the withdrawn patriarch, Herman’s character is a resonant theological
allusion.
 Holocaust, The | 229

Thus the fate of Judaism and Jewish rituals during the Holocaust era, as ex-
pressed in these films, is complicated and diverse. Some Jews remain faithful and
even deepen their commitments to religious tradition. Others reject or ignore tra-
dition and rituals. Still others make adaptations in their religiosity in order to ad-
vance politically and socially or even to survive, but then they eventually return to
Judaism or ultimately reaffirm their Jewish identity.
The third theme in these films, Christian–Jewish relationships under the im-
pact of the Holocaust, raises several complex issues, such as the suggestion that
Jewishness is somehow flawed and inadequate and that advancement or salvation
lies in Christianity in one form or another. This is evident in The Pawnbroker.
Sol Nazerman is a Holocaust survivor, plagued by survivor guilt, who has barred
himself against any emotional involvements with, or feelings for, his poor and
predominantly Christian customers. Nazerman exploits them mercilessly, explain-
ing to his Christian assistant Jesus Ortiz that, historically, Jews were forced into
pawnbroking because of their exclusion from farming and from Christian society.
Christianity is seen to subsume and supplant Judaism in the film’s climax, when
Jesus and others attempt to rob the shop. During the robbery, violence erupts and
Jesus sacrifices his life to save Nazerman by stepping in front of him and taking a
bullet meant for the pawnbroker. Jesus’ name and sacrifice are all too suggestive.
In anguish over Jesus’ death, Nazerman then pierces his hand on a spike in the
shop, a kind of crucifixion that signals his moral and spiritual transformation. In
several scholars’ interpretation of the film, Nazerman achieves redemption through
this re-enactment of Christian self-sacrifice. Yet interpreting Nazerman this way
is controversial; the film’s climax could also be read as Nazerman’s traumatic re-
experience of his powerlessness in the concentration camp.
A second issue raised in films that picture Christian–Jewish relationships dur-
ing the Holocaust is their potential for overstating or understating Christian sym-
pathy and aid for Jews. The Diary of Anne Frank is illustrative here as well. The
Krallers, a Christian family who operate a business downstairs from the Frank’s
attic, show great respect for Otto Frank and his family. During the Franks’ confine-
ment, the Krallers provide them with food and even a radio to get outside news.
Some have observed that when favorable news is reported on the radio, ringing
church bells on the film’s soundtrack seem to reinforce a warm Jewish–Christian
friendship. And viewers appreciate the full impact of the Krallers’ actions know-
ing that if discovered, such aid would condemn them to the same fate as the Jews.
In the film’s conclusion, Otto Frank, the sole survivor, returns to the apartment,
where Mr. Kraller declares that he would do it all again if necessary. Although
the historical truth of this particular relationship is not in doubt, the film is often
read as a metonymy for Christian regard toward Jewish victims. The danger is that
such a feel-good movie about Christian–Jewish relations, in prodding viewers to
230 | Holocaust, The

see this story as standing in for all such relations during the war, misrepresents a
complicated and fraught subject whose dynamics were different in different oc-
cupied countries.
How complicated these relationships were is evident in a quick comparison of
the made-for-television film Leni (1994) and Steven Spielberg’s Schindler’s List
(1993), films that provide opposing images of German Catholics. In Leo Hiemer’s
Leni, Catholics are seen as complicit and cooperating with the Nazis. Leni deals
with the birth in a convent of a Jewish girl, who is then taken by a nun to be raised
in the country by an elderly couple. Brought up as a Christian, Leni enjoys life
on her adoptive parents’ farm until the fervent Nazi mayor begins to question her
origins. He forces the couple to return Leni to the convent, from which all the Jew-
ish children are then deported to the camps. The Catholic Church does not exert
itself to protect them.
In Spielberg’s film, the Catholic Schindler is the very model of the righteous
Gentile. His skill and dedication in shielding Jews from the Nazis is portrayed in
the film as a moral lesson in the right use of power. When Amon Goeth, the new
Nazi commandant of Plaszow, enforces harsher measures against the Jews, Schin-
dler tries to persuade him to exercise restraint by implicitly asking whether power
is the ability to take life or to spare it. Schindler exemplifies the latter definition,
and when Goeth allows him to transfer his Jewish workers to a safer locale in
Czechoslovakia, Schindler specifically encourages them to practice their religion
inside the factory. When the war ends, his workers show their admiration and love
for him by presenting him with a ring inscribed with a passage from the Talmud:
“Whoever saves one life saves the world entire.” Thus references to religion in the
film function as discreet reminders of Schindler’s moral role—the example par
excellence of Christian sympathy and aid for Jews during the Holocaust.
A third and final issue is the way in which Christian–Jewish relationships in these
films contribute to and help promote the concept of a “Judeo–Christian” tradition
and value system. This issue is given particular expression in Grzegorz Linkowski’s
documentary film Wpisany w gwiazde Davida (Cross Inscribed in the Star of David,
1997). The film introduces viewers to Father Romuald Jakub Weksler-Waskinel, a
Polish Catholic priest who discovers that he was born a Jew during the Holocaust
and was given to a Polish woman outside the ghetto, who raised him. As some
have observed, the film’s message becomes clear when the priest declares, “I am a
Jew from Jesus. I survived to speak of it with a loud voice.” Throughout, the film
explores the ambiguity of religious identity in a country whose history and culture
were intertwined for close to 700 years with Jews and Judaism. As the film suggests,
the priest’s solution to this ambiguity, wearing the Star of David with the cross in-
side, ultimately signifies a symbolic fusing of the two religions, though quite obvi-
ously Christianity is the executor of this Christian–Jewish inheritance.
 Horror | 231

Thus Christian–Jewish relationships under the impact of the Holocaust are

portrayed as varied and complicated. Christians provide positive support and pro-
tection to Jews in danger; Christians and their organizations at times cooperate
with the Nazis and adopt their anti-Semitism. And some films suggest that Ju-
daism is flawed and Jews in need of redemption through Christian intervention,
while others, like Cross Inscribed in the Star of David, present Judaism and Chris-
tianity as linked religions.
The extent to which film is capable of providing stable meanings or enabling
clear understandings of the Holocaust remains debatable. However, in films that
address its relation to religion, it is evident that the characters, actions, and theol-
ogy in these films offer cinematic studies of the Holocaust’s effect on faith, Juda-
ism, and Christian–Jewish relationships. In that respect, their illustrations of the
vagaries of representation, memory, and ideology add significantly to our knowl-
edge, if not our comprehension, of this horrific event.
John Longaker, Laurence Roth, and Shannon Nagy
See also: Catholicism; Judaism.

Further Reading
Avisar, Ilan. Screening the Holocaust: Cinema’s Image of the Unimaginable. Blooming-
ton: Indiana University Press, 1988.
Doneson, Judith E. The Holocaust in American Film, 2nd ed. Syracuse, NY: Syracuse
University Press, 2002.
Insdorf, Annette. Indelible Shadows: Film and the Holocaust, 3rd ed. New York: Cam-
bridge University Press, 2003.
Levinson, Julian. “The Maimed Body and the Tortured Soul: Holocaust Survivors in
American Film.” The Yale Journal of Criticism 17, no. 1 (2004): 141–160.
Loshitzky, Yosefa, ed. Spielberg’s Holocaust: Critical Perspectives on Schindler’s List.
Bloomington: University of Indiana Press, 1997.
Wright, Melanie J. “ ‘Don’t Touch My Holocaust’: Responding to Life Is Beautiful.” The
Journal of Holocaust Education 9, no. 1 (2000): 19–32.

Horror

Horror films have been a staple of American movies since the dawn of the motion
picture. Drawing on western folklore, European Gothic literature, and the Victo-
rian ghost story, filmmakers early on recognized the aesthetic and commercial
possibilities of horror themes. Silent masterpieces from Europe—such as Paul
232 | Horror

Wegener’s Der Golem (The Golem, 1920), Benjamin Christensen’s Häxan (The
Witches, 1922), and F. W. Murnau’s Nosferatu (1922)—soon gave way to the so-
called Golden Age of Hollywood horror, catalyzed by Tod Browning’s Dracula
(1931) and James Whale’s Frankenstein (1931). Since that time, horror film pro-
duction, both in the United States and abroad, has remained high. Horror films are
consistently among the most profitable genres in the movie industry.
The persistent popularity of horror films begs the question “Why?” Ever since
the rise of the Gothic novel in the late 18th century, critics have puzzled over the
appeal of horror literature, given its morbid preoccupations with fear, death, and
monsters. The horror film, reaching a far broader audience and achieving even
greater heights of popularity, has only made the question more urgent. A veritable
academic industry of horror criticism has risen in response. Most critics have been
naturalistic in their presuppositions. They assume that horror films hide mean-
ings of psychological, sociological, or ideological import. A few, however, have
detected religious meanings in these films.
Horror films are narratives designed to evoke both profound fear and fascina-
tion. That this combination of emotions is the sine qua non of horror tales is gener-
ally upheld by critical consensus, although some critics debate the precise quality
of fear that defines horror. Ann Radcliffe, an early-18th-century pioneer of the
Gothic novel, insisted on a clear distinction between what she called “terror” and
“horror”: the fascinating fear of “terror” is that of the sublime, while the fascinat-
ing fear of horror is that of disgust. And yet such a restricted definition does not
accord well with the popular definition. Zombie films such as Night of the Living
Dead (1968) or slashers like Friday the 13th (1980) may indeed evoke disgust to
delight the squeamish, but the giant ape of King Kong (1933; 1976; 2005) and the
ghosts of The Haunting (1999) are clearly more awe-inspiring than disgusting, at
least before the killing starts. In the case of cinema, then, the horror “canon” fre-
quently includes films that display both terror and horror in the same film.
As with most other film genres, the narrative structure of the horror film is ex-
ceedingly simple: a stable situation is upset by the introduction of some disturbing
force, which is then resisted in the hope of restoring the status quo by story’s end.
Where the horror genre differs from all other genres, however, is that the agent of
conflict is invariably a monster, a being anomalous in form or psychology who is
dangerous if not malevolent. Drawing on the work of anthropologist Mary Doug-
las and psychologist Julia Kristeva, critics have noted that anomalous beings, by
their very nature, blur cultural boundaries. They thus challenge the classificatory
systems so important for the stability of human society and individual identity,
which instinctively renders them objects of fear and fascination. And yet, this alone
is not enough to qualify an anomalous being as a horror monster. John Merrick,
the grotesquely malformed protagonist of The Elephant Man (1980), is definitely
 Horror | 233

an anomaly evoking disgust and fascination, but The Elephant Man is definitely
not a horror film, for no gentler creature than Merrick could be imagined. Fran-
kenstein’s creature, on the other hand, though beginning his life as an innocent,
is rejected because of his anomalousness and earns his designation of monster
by degenerating into a brutal killer. Monsters, therefore, are anomalous beings
that actively bring death, destruction, and chaos into the world; they confirm our
unconscious fears of anomalous beings by committing the violence to which we
assume their warped natures make them heir.
The range of possible monsters is potentially as vast as the human imagina-
tion, but in the West certain types of monsters occur regularly. These can be clas-
sified as either supernatural or supranatural (i.e., products of nature but rare or
novel). In the supernatural group fall ghosts and evil spirits, witches, demons, and
Satan himself, with the most popular being vampires, werewolves, and reanimated
mummies. In the supranatural category belong such man-made monsters as Fran-
kenstein’s creature and Godzilla, while unaided nature is implicated in the produc-
tion of such monstrous animals as King Kong, the ravenous shark in Jaws (1975),
and the bloodthirsty arthropod in Alien (1979). Finally, and growing in popularity
since the 1960s, are the human monsters, serial killers, psychotics, and chainsaw-
wielding cannibals. A few popular monsters are difficult to classify in this way
(are zombies super- or supranatural beings?), and others seem to cross over (for
example, Michael Myers in Halloween [1978]). Most, however, fall clearly in one
category or the other. Critics are divided on whether this distinction has any bear-
ing on the religious meanings of a horror film.
Religious studies scholars reading the above definition of horror will probably
experience a sense of déjà vu, for it bears a striking resemblance to the definition
of religious experience adduced by theologian Rudolf Otto in The Idea of the Holy
(1917). Otto defined religious experience as a sense of mysterium tremendum et
fascinans, or, put another way, that “the numinous” (the supernatural object of
religious feeling) ineluctably provokes intense feelings of both fear and fascina-
tion. Otto further subdivided this complex of emotions into a “daemonic” form, in
which fear originates in loathing, and a higher “sublime” form, in which fear pro-
ceeds from an overpowering sense of wonder and awe. Both sets of emotions are
fundamentally religious and constitute a continuum of possible responses to the
numinous. Not surprisingly, therefore, some literary critics have seized on Otto’s
work as the most adequate explanation for the peculiar hold that the horror genre
has on its audiences. Since both the numinous and the horror tale produce similar
emotional effects, these critics argue that horror and the holy must somehow be
related.
Monsters have played prominent roles in the mythologies of many ancient reli-
gions, and such stories as Leviathan, Behemoth, and the dragon of the Apocalypse
234 | Horror

are included not simply to inspire horror but to legitimate the biblical worldview
in a particularly effective way. It could be argued that today’s movie monsters con-
tinue to function along the same lines. Although shorn of overt religious contexts,
Dracula, the shark in Jaws, the demon in The Exorcist (1973), and Hannibal Lector
in The Silence of the Lambs (1991) all represent the same ancient cosmology—a
cosmology that apparently still resonates strongly in the minds of many. Perhaps it
is in this sense that we can see horror cinema as a distant echo of ancient rites.
Some critics who cite the mysterium tremendum et fascinans as the reason for
horror’s continued popularity deny that it arises through contact with some numi-
nous object embedded in a dualistic cosmos but rather occur when human beings
are confronted with the fearful prospect of transcending their own finitude. If re-
ligion is not necessarily about the supernatural but about human beings’ attempts
to transcend their biological natures, then horror stories can more easily be con-
sidered religious. According to one scholar, horror films can be broken into two
categories depending on the kind of transcendence they illustrate. In the first, the
monster threatens to reduce us to nothing and thereby annihilate us, while in the
second, we are shown what would happen if one were to aspire to know cosmic
secrets. The Incredible Shrinking Man (1957) and “X”: The Man With the X-Ray
Eyes (1963) are good illustrations of this. In the first, the hapless hero is exposed
to a radioactive gas that causes him to shrink uncontrollably. By the film’s end, he
is reduced to fighting off a spider with a sewing needle before slipping off forever
into the subatomic world and oblivion. Despite an improbably happy ending, The
Incredible Shrinking Man is a truly frightening imagining of what it might be like
to become infinitesimal. At the other end of the scale, the scientist-hero of “X”:
The Man with the X-Ray Eyes seeks to expand his sight infinitely, even though a
colleague warns him that “only the gods see everything.” Successful in his enter-
prise, the scientist peers deeper and deeper into the cosmos, leading inevitably to
madness and mayhem. The film ends with the scientist dying in an evangelist’s
tent after confessing the sin of hubris. In both films, according to Schneider’s
thesis, a sense of the mysterium is generated through depictions of infinite tran-
scendence of one’s humanity.
Another approach focuses as much on the content of the tale as on the specific
emotions it generates. Critics who take this approach have tacitly adopted the in-
tellectualist definition of religion as a belief in supernatural beings. These critics
thus see an important distinction between supernatural horror and supranatural
horror, for while both can provoke strong emotions, only the former is properly
labeled religious. The question remains, though, “What makes the supernatural
more attractive when it is presented through horror?” One response is that super-
natural horror functions to reinforce beliefs in the supernatural in general. Such
might be the case of many modern horror films. William Peter Blatty, author and
 Horror | 235

producer of The Exorcist, wrote that he found transcendence in his story. Simi-
larly, Stanley Kubrick reportedly observed to horror novelist Stephen King before
filming The Shining (1980) that ghost stories imply life after death. On the other
hand, some argue that believers are not the target audience of modern supernatural
tales—skeptics are. According to this argument, during periods when there is no
consensus about the supernatural, horror tales function to permit speculation. In
other words, horror tales satisfy a yearning for “otherworldly” gratification with-
out the burden of having to take it seriously. Recent research seems to suggest
that, in terms of the audiences for these films, both interpretations may be correct.
One scholar has argued that the increasing assertiveness of Evangelical Christians,
with their belief in the active presence of Satan in the world, ironically contrib-
uted to the explosion of horror films from the 1970s on, since their beliefs made
such films more plausible. Conversely, in interviews with secular families, schol-
ars found that many relished the experience of supernatural monsters and cited
horror films as a source of much of their information on afterlife beliefs. Few,
however, connected horror films with organized religion or morality. Finally, it is
interesting to note that during the 1950s, a period in which arguably there did exist
in the United States a social consensus on the supernatural, there was a dearth of
supernatural horror films. It might be that this was because the then high levels of
traditional religiosity obviated the need.
Traditional religious concepts and symbolism have often been featured in hor-
ror films. Until the 1960s, though, Christian symbols were carefully decontex-
tualized and not identified with any one denomination so as not to offend any
“important” segment of the film’s audience. When specific religious traditions
were invoked in horror films, “exotic” traditions were used, for example, ancient
Egyptian religion in The Mummy (1999) or, even more insistently, voodoo. For
many westerners, White Zombie (1932) was their first contact with voodoo, and
many thought it a wholly Hollywood creation. White Zombie established all the
prominent elements of the “voodoo picture,” and all subsequent examples, from
I Walked with a Zombie (1943) to The Serpent and the Rainbow (1988), have
recycled such elements as zombie dust, voodoo dolls, and the evil zombie master
first introduced in that earlier film. Despite the obvious racism of the “voodoo pic-
ture,” moviemakers have found the ready identification of voodoo as a sinister cult
too bankable a horror premise to discard entirely (perhaps for this reason zombies
unaffiliated with any religious tradition have become a thriving subgenre of their
own, e.g., Night of the Living Dead and its progeny). For practitioners and scholars
of voodoo, however, disentangling the actual tradition from that portrayed in the
movies has been a formidable problem; in the United States, at least, practitioners
find it expedient to maintain a low profile and keep their worship services out of
the public eye to avoid stigmatization.
236 | Horror

Perhaps inevitably, given horror’s roots in the Gothic novel, Roman Catholi-
cism eventually provided fodder for Hollywood horror films. The church’s ritual-
ism, hierarchy, and complex mythology, a source of endless fear and fascination
for many Protestants, figures prominently in the Satan movies that became popular
in the late 1960s. In the seminal Rosemary’s Baby (1968), for example, Catholic
hierarchy and ritual are conflated with those of a Satanist coven in a lurid dream
sequence that managed to include the Kennedys, the Pope, and Satan. In 1976,
audiences were treated to another appearance of the Devil, this time in the guise of
Damien the Antichrist in The Omen (1976). That film and its sequels were nothing
less than primers on the mythology of premillennialism, and their success proved
that the baroque horrors of the Book of Revelation never go out of style. True to
Reformation sensibilities, Catholics are the villains of The Omen; in an egregious
bit of Catholic bashing, a priest and nun protect the baby Antichrist and arrange his
advantageous adoption by a politically well-connected American Catholic family,
thus setting Damien up to be president of United States by the second sequel.
Similar anti-Catholic themes can be found in such films as The Amityville Horror
(1979), Amityville II: The Possession (1982), and Evilspeak (1981).
Not all Catholic-themed horror films cast the church in a negative light. De-
spite the fact that many Catholics denounced Rosemary’s Baby, members of the
church actively collaborated with the making of what is arguably the greatest Devil
picture of all time, The Exorcist. Several Jesuit priests appeared in the movie, and
the filmmakers counted on the cooperation of Catholic Georgetown University to
give the film an authentic look. Indeed, in the wake of the tremendous response
to the movie, which one critic tagged “the greatest advert for Catholicism that the
world has ever seen,” vocations to the priesthood actually increased for a time,
as did visits to the confessional. From that point on, the pro-Catholic horror film
proved to be as enduringly popular as the anti-Catholic horror film; in addition to
four Exorcist sequels, one can also point to such examples as The Unholy (1988),
Stigmata (1999), and The Order (2003). Perhaps the most ludicrous example of
this subgenre was Van Helsing (2004), in which our eponymous hero is a hit man
for the Vatican tracking down such famous movieland monsters as Dr. Jekyll, the
Wolf Man, Frankenstein, and, of course, Dracula.
Cecil B. DeMille once said “God is box office,” and films such as The Ten
Commandments (1956) and The Greatest Story Ever Told (1965) seem to confirm
this dictum. And yet, religiously themed horror films have been far more popular
and far more abundant than straight religious films. Why is it that audiences seem
to be more responsive to traditional religious themes when they are presented
through horror? One naturalistic explanation is that horror helps to underscore the
“otherness” of other people’s religions, thus articulating our subconscious fears
 Horror | 237

in this regard. However, thousands of Catholics were thrilled to see their own
tradition in The Exorcist, and Catholics and Protestants alike flocked to see Satan
preside over the torture of Jesus in Mel Gibson’s fantastically gruesome The Pas-
sion of the Christ (2004). This could be yet another confirmation of the continued
power of the dualistic worldview discussed above. In such a culture, even the be-
nevolent side of religion must be closely linked to evil and pain to be believable.
According to this thesis, then, horror films are among the few venues in contempo-
rary culture where traditionally religious concepts and symbols can be employed
with potency and persuasiveness.
Are horror films intrinsically religious? As should be clear from the foregoing,
it depends on whom you ask. According to the “religious experience” camp, all
horror films that effectively evoke the correct combination and strength of emo-
tions (or at least promise to do so) are irreducibly religious. According to the “re-
ligious ideas” camp, although horror films can be effective vehicles for religious
expression, they are only as religious as the explicit religious concepts and sym-
bols featured in them. However, what is ultimately important in such a discussion
is not a final agreement on a particular religious interpretation but that horror films
can be so interpreted at all. As mentioned above, most critical interpretation of
horror films has been predominantly naturalistic. That is, most critics attribute the
popularity of these films to the fact that they are symbolic expressions of psycho-
sexual repression, sociological anxieties, or evolving constructions of race, class,
and gender. These interpretations may indeed be valid, but what has been shown
above is that naturalistic interpretations do not exhaust the hermeneutical possi-
bilities of these films. Religious interpretations, and thus more broadly humanistic
interpretations, are not only possible but, for many, compelling as well.
Brian Wilson
See also: Catholicism; Devil; Kubrick, Stanley; Vampires; Voodoo.

Further Reading
Benshoff, Harry M. “Blaxploitation Horror Films: Generic Reappropriation or Reinscrip-
tion?” Cinema Journal 39, no. 2 (2000): 31–50.
Cowan, Douglas E. Sacred Terror: Religion and Horror on the Silver Screen. Waco, TX:
Baylor University Press, 2008.
Edmundson, Mark. Nightmare on Main Street: Angels, Sadomasochism, and the Culture
of Gothic. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1997.
Jones, Darryl. Horror: A Thematic History in Fiction and Film. London: Arnold Press,
2002.
238 | Horror

Leggett, Paul. Terence Fisher: Horror, Myth, and Religion. Jefferson, NC: McFarland,
2002.
Schneider, Kirk J. Horror and the Holy: Wisdom Teachings of the Monster Tale. Chicago:
Open Court, 1993.
Skal, David J. The Monster Show: A Cultural History of Horror. New York: Farrar, Straus
and Giroux, 2001.
I

Indigenous Religions

Indigenous peoples and their religions have been grossly misrepresented in cin-
ema. Successful comedic films such as The Gods Must Be Crazy (1980), Joe Ver-
sus the Volcano (1990), and Crocodile Dundee (1986) present indigenous peoples
as animal-like, unsophisticated, ignorant, and superstitious. In most films, indig-
enous peoples are portrayed as everything westerners are not; they are either ex-
tremely childlike or barbaric, they wear little or no clothing, and they are sensual
in their dance and ritual. Whether films have depicted actual people—as is the case
with African bushmen of The Gods Must be Crazy—or “fictional” people, like
those from the island of Waponi Woo in Joe Versus the Volcano, the stereotypes
remain much the same.
Since its advent, cinema has been linked to—and has had an intimate relation-
ship with—colonization, ethnography, and entertainment. One of the first films to
depict indigenous peoples was recorded by Félix-Louis Regnault in Paris in 1895.
Regnault, an amateur anthropologist and physician, documented the “savage lo-
comotion” of West Africans—that is, he compared and contrasted the way “sav-
age” people walked with the way that Europeans or “civilized” people walked.
This film established the standard by which indigenous peoples would come to
be represented. The immensely popular Cannibals of the South Seas (1912), for
instance, claims to present “real” cannibals in the South Pacific and tells of the at-
tempted abduction of a white woman. The success of this film (and others like it)
ensured the production of countless other “ethnographic” movies.
Even films not directly dealing with indigenous peoples, such as D. W. Grif-
fith’s The Birth of a Nation (1915), have had an impact on how indigenous peo-
ples have come to be represented. Although The Birth of a Nation, an adaptation
of Thomas Dixon’s The Clansman (1905), is ostensibly concerned with what
white southerners called “Redemption”—that is, the deliberate destruction of the
North’s Reconstruction effort in the South and the return of white supremacy,

239
240 | Indigenous Religions

it celebrates the Ku Klux Klan’s effort to re-establish social order by violently

putting the “primitives” in its midst back into their proper place of servitude and
obedience. Nonetheless, The Birth of a Nation asserts that without the benevolent
and disciplining institution of slavery, African Americans would inevitably return
to their uncivilized ways. Emancipated African Americans (whites in blackface)
are depicted by Griffith as reverting to their primitive or savage state.
Every genre has contributed to the negative portrayal of indigenous peoples
and their cultures, languages, and religions. Dramas such as Tabu (1931), but es-
pecially action–adventure films—such as the various depictions of Tarzan and all
three versions of King Kong (1933; 1976; 2005)—are responsible for the resil-
ience and informing power of the derogatory depictions of indigenous peoples
and their religions, particularly the two aspects most commonly depicted in film:
superstition and ritual sacrifice.
Superstition—that is, the irrational belief in the supernatural power of objects,
things, animals, people, or beings, real or imagined—is the most fundamental and
commonly emphasized aspect of indigenous religion in film. Indeed, indigenous
religions are portrayed as nothing more than belief systems built upon supersti-
tions. In some films, superstitious beliefs are presented as harmless, silly, or non-
sensical, while in others, superstitious beliefs have dangerous ramifications. An
example of the former occurs in the comedy The Gods Must be Crazy, in which a
brave African bushman attempts to dispose of an empty soda pop bottle by tossing
it off of the “edge of the world.” The bottle had been discarded by a careless air-
plane pilot and found by tribesmen. In their ignorance, the tribesmen assume that
the empty bottle was a gift from the gods. However, there is only one bottle to go
around, and soon tension enters the once peaceful and noble tribe. A lone African
bushman resolves to purge the sacred object from their midst, ridding the world of
its chaotic powers.
In the drama Tabu, the silly beliefs of the indigenous people have serious
consequences. Set in Bora Bora, the film depicts two young islanders in love. The
royal priest of a neighboring island arrives and selects Reri, one of the young lov-
ers, to be the sacred maiden of the people. She objects—as a sacred maiden she is
“tabu,” and it is forbidden for any man to look, desire, or touch her—but tradition
and law demand that she fulfill her duty. In the dark of night her lover abducts her
and they flee to a French-occupied island “where the white man rules and the old
gods are forgotten.” On this new island they are content; the young man has a job
diving for pearls and the young woman stays home. Eventually the royal priest
locates Reri and warns (threatens) her that if she does not return with her lover, he
will die within three days. She reluctantly agrees to return with the royal priest in
the hope that her lover’s life might be spared. In the middle of the night, the priest
escorts Reri to his boat. Moments after they launch, the young man discovers what
has happened and swims out into the open sea in pursuit of Reri. She is ignorant
 Indigenous Religions | 241

of his efforts but the priest has seen the young man, and, in the final scene of the
movie, the young man gets close enough to grip a rope hanging from the ship, the
royal priest cuts it, and the young man drowns. The message is clear. Superstitious
beliefs not only interfere with industry, happiness, and love but also kill. Addition-
ally, indigenous priests or tribal religious leaders are commonly portrayed as petty
tyrants or fanatics for the “old ways,” which is not in keeping with indigenous
religions of the Pacific islands, the Americas, and Africa; the religions there, un-
like those in the West, are generally neither inclined to hierarchical thinking nor
obsessed with notions of orthodoxy.
Another aspect that has fired the imaginations of generations of film directors
is ritual sacrifice. Such rites, performed by savage tribes to appease gods, mon-
sters, and volcanoes or for the purpose of cannibalism, probably offer the most
popular images of indigenous religions. In the King Kong films, a beautiful white
woman is abducted from the security of her ship by “savages” to be ritually sacri-
ficed to Kong, an overgrown ape on a mysterious island forgotten by time. In all
three versions of the film, the unfortunate white woman is taken, bound, and left
to face Kong alone. When her disappearance is discovered, the white men attack
the islanders and pursue Kong into the interior. With grit, pure determination, and
a little help from western firepower, the hero rescues the screaming woman from
her captor. Not only are the white men able to save the white woman but—with
their brains and guns—they manage to subdue and abduct Kong himself.
In the romantic comedy Joe Versus the Volcano, a man named Joe is duped
into believing that he is terminally ill with a “brain cloud.” Joe quits his job and is
offered an opportunity to live lavishly if he will sacrifice himself by jumping into
a volcano. The man making the offer is a wealthy entrepreneur who is interested
in mining minerals on an island named Waponi Woo in the Pacific Ocean. Unbe-
knownst to Joe, the inhabitants need to sacrifice a human at least once a century
and have agreed to let the entrepreneur mine their island if he can provide a sac-
rifice for them, since none of the inhabitants are willing. At the end of the film,
Joe follows through on his commitment after an impromptu wedding to one of the
entrepreneur’s daughters. Husband and wife descend into the volcano together but
are miraculously ejected by volcanic gases and descend safely into the ocean. The
eruption, however, destroys the island, so that it and (presumably) its inhabitants
sink into the ocean.
Mel Gibson’s Apocalypto (2006) shows a different sort of sacrifice from Joe
Versus the Volcano. In this action–adventure film set just prior to the arrival and
subsequent conquest of New Spain by the Spanish, Gibson presents Mayan civi-
lization as brutal, decadent, and overtly sensual. The film’s protagonist, a “noble
savage” named Jaguar Paw, and his fellow tribesmen are violently abducted from
their idyllic forest village by brutal raiders and taken to a Mayan city either to
be sold as slaves or sacrificed to the gods. The women are inspected and sold on
242 | Indigenous Religions

the auction block to highest bidder; the men are marched to the temple to have
their hearts cut out and their corpses tossed into a heap below. The temple priests
presiding over the sacrificial rites are portrayed as power-drunk charlatans. Fortu-
nately for Jaguar Paw, an eclipse occurs just seconds before he is to be killed by
one of the priests, and he is spared. He and his cohorts are then taken to an open
field to be killed for sport, but Jaguar Paw makes his escape by sprinting into the
forest. The rest of the film consists of a long pursuit on foot; Jaguar Paw is saved
only by the serendipitous arrival of the Spanish conquistadores.
Besides confusing Mayan brutality with the reign of terror the Spanish would
unleash on all of the indigenous inhabitants of New Spain and being little more
than a preapocalyptic Mesoamerican remake of Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome
(1985), Apocalypto is filled with a number of historical inaccuracies, none more
pronounced than the depiction of human sacrifice. Mayan methods of temple sac-
rifice are inaccurately shown as occurring one after another, day after day, in an
attempt to appease the gods and bring back the maize. In reality, the Maya had all
but abandoned their urban centers centuries before the arrival of the Spanish and,
with the collapse of the urban centers, large-scale temple sacrifices had ceased. If
Mayan human sacrifice was still occurring at the time of Spain’s invasion—the
Mexica (or Aztecs) were conquered in 1521, the Maya were not conquered until
1546—it would have occurred at the village level. In Apocalypto, human sacrifice
occurs on such a large scale that mass graves are located outside of the city, but
no mass graves linked to pre-Columbian sacrifices have ever been discovered in
Yucatan or Central America. Still, human sacrifice in the film is shown as an act
performed simply to appease the blood lust of the cheering crowds and for the
pleasure of corrupt rulers. What is not shown is that Mesoamerican peoples who
did practice human sacrifice did it because they actually believed that the world
would end if human blood were not spilled.
Overtly missing in the history of cinema—with rare exception—are honest
attempts to represent indigenous religions accurately. Complex forms of abstract
thought, notions of hospitality, concepts concerning the universal humanity of
man, laws of morality, political philosophies, rigid rules about sexuality and the
body, and the history of traditional place names are ignored. Instead, what is pre-
sented is a picture of peoples—animal-like at worst or childlike at best—who wor-
ship empty soda bottles, cannibalize foreigners, and abduct pretty white women to
give to their gods or monsters. In this way, cinema has never accurately portrayed
the Manobo of Mindanao, Igorot of Luzon, Aymara of the Andes, and Maya of
the Yucatan. To be sure, the negative depictions exist not solely because of belief,
misinformation, or simple ignorance. These representations exist in film because
they work; they work because audiences enjoy seeing indigenous peoples in a
particular way. There are signs, however, that change is occurring. Whale Rider
 Islam | 243

(2002), for example, takes seriously the sanctity of oral traditions and examines
the social and economic conditions affecting an indigenous people. Whatever its
shortcomings, it is a step in the right direction.
Robert L. Green Jr.
See also: Africa; American Indian Religion; Australia.

Further Reading
Bernardi, Daniel, ed. The Birth of Whiteness: Race and the Emergence of U.S. Cinema.
New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1996.
Bernardi, Daniel, ed. Classic Hollywood, Classic Whiteness. Minneapolis: University of
Minnesota Press, 2001.
Rony, Fatimah Tobing. The Third Eye: Race, Cinema, and the Ethnographic Spectacle.
Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1996.
Smith, Linda Tuhiwai. Decolonizing Methodologies: Research and Indigenous People.
New York: Zed Books, 1999.

Islam

Long before September 11, 2001, films like True Lies (1994), Executive Decision
(1996), Air Force One (1997), The Peacemaker (1997), and especially The Siege
(1998) presented villains that were all Muslim and all terrorists. Indeed, a realisti-
cally complex representation of Islam for most Americans is almost exclusively
limited to films of non-American origin, in which Islam often appears not as the
point of the film itself but rather as the natural backdrop for the lives of characters.
Some of the most realistic renderings of Muslim life that have most easily made it
into mainstream video outlets in America include a number of cinematically rich
Iranian films like Bacheha—Ye aseman (Children of Heaven, 1997), Bad ma ra kha-
had bord (The Wind Will Carry Us, 1999), and Raye makhfi (Secret Ballot, 2001).
Also popular on U.S. shelves are issue-based films that touch on Muslim life,
such as the Afghani–Canadian film Safar e Ghandehar (Kandahar, 2001), about
struggles under Taliban rule; the British film My Son the Fanatic (1997), about
generational and cultural clashes within a British Muslim family; and Kashmir
(1951), a nuanced and sophisticated film about survival and tough choices in a war-
torn region where violence seems unavoidable. The British film Hideous Kinky
(1998), although somewhat narrow in its depiction of Moroccan women, does sym-
pathetically portray the appeal of the Sufi faith for some people, and it shows a des-
perately devoted if confused male Muslim character. Viewers looking for positive
244 | Islam

representations of Islam will appreciate the Muslim-produced film The Message

(1976), which tells the story of Muhammad’s life and the early Muslim community.
Out of reverence for the prophet, no actor plays the role of Muhammad; instead,
those scenes in which the prophet is present are filmed as if through his eyes.
Whereas foreign films often more readily recognize Islam’s role as an integral
part of the fabric of many people’s lives, American films tend to represent Islam
almost exclusively through plots driven by the supposed irrational rage of fanatical
Muslims bent on destroying the freedom of others. Furthermore, despite the fact
that only a small percentage of the world’s Muslims are Arab, filmmakers repeat-
edly depict Arabs and Muslims as identical. This raw identification encourages
viewers to draw some clumsy conclusions, such that Islam is practiced only in
Arabic-speaking nations, that Iranians and Turks are Arab (and also all Muslim),
or that all Muslims confront exactly the same set of political and social concerns in
relation to “western” powers. Unfortunately, in their distilled dualistic view of the
world, many American films contribute to ongoing misperceptions about Islam,
perpetuating misleading stereotypes that are not easily disentangled from larger
international cultural and political conflicts. There are six repeated and easily rec-
ognizable stereotypes that recur with relative frequency in American film, many of
them dependent upon the facile identification of Muslims with Arabs.
The first stereotype is that Muslims (as Arabs) are exceedingly wealthy, ex-
ercising a choke hold on American economics through monopolies on oil—an
image stoked by American frustration with the 1973 Arab OPEC oil embargo.
One of the most politically charged films to be produced in the wake of new oil
power in Saudi Arabia was the PBS film Death of a Princess (1980), a docudrama
purporting to uncover the “true story” of the beheading of a Saudi princess and her
lover for adultery. The film sparked outrage among Saudi royalty and guilty titil-
lation among American viewers, many of whom failed to detect the film’s subtle
interweaving of fact and fiction.
Death of a Princess portrays numerous inaccuracies about Islam and a few
outright ridiculous charges, as when it suggests that Saudi royal women, so con-
strained by their societal limitations under Islam, commonly cavort with lovers
in the dressing rooms of boutiques or prowl the desert at night looking for mates,
watching these potential lovers perform elaborate sword dances by firelight be-
fore selecting the most suitable sexual partners. Through its editing sequences of
remote desert areas juxtaposed with rapid urban growth, the film also taps into a
related stereotype about Islam that crops up in many films: the idea that Muslims
(as Arabs) lack the sophistication to know how to use their new oil wealth and are
in desperate need of western assistance to make “progress” toward modernity.
The stereotype of the morally degenerate wealthy Arab also appears in the
American romantic comedy Father of the Bride II (1995), in which an Arab/Muslim
 Islam | 245

man castigates his wife and bargains for kitchen accessories for her, throwing his
money around and failing to appreciate the joys of American family life. Similar
representations of irresponsible and wealthy Muslims (as Arabs) appear in two
1980s blockbusters: Protocol (1984) and The Jewel of the Nile (1985). Similarly,
in Bugs Bunny’s Third Movie: 1001 Rabbit Tales (1982), Yosemite Sam plays the
unreasonable, phenomenally wealthy Sultan Sam, who forces Bugs to tell stories
to his unruly and selfish son Prince Abadaba, threatening to boil him in oil if he
refuses.
The stereotype of the selfish, wealthy Muslim/Arab is also used in the nu-
merous American retellings of the story of Alladin (“debt to Allah”—the name
is misspelled “Aladdin” for western audiences). Filmmakers typically revise the
young Aladdin’s heroic status as a Robin Hood type of figure, recreating Aladdin
as an American-looking hero of western values of individualism and hard work (as
in Disney’s Aladdin [1992]) or lumping Aladdin together with the thieves he de-
feats, completely ignoring his own representation as a Muslim hero in the original
Persian tales. The clashing stereotypes take on ludicrous proportions in the early
cartoon Popeye Meets Ali Baba and His Forty Thieves (1937); the cartoon resolves
inconsistent stereotypes of Arab oil wealth alongside the stereotype of primitivism
by showing characters filling up camels with gasoline.
The second stereotype of Muslims in American film is that Muslim women
are unconditionally and cruelly repressed and demeaned by Muslim men. The
most powerful example of this stereotype is Not Without My Daughter (1991), a
docudrama still replayed frequently on cable television. The film directly attacks
Islam, building on the real-life accounts of Betty Mahmoody’s travels to Iran with
her husband. The film exploits Betty’s many misunderstandings about Iranian cul-
ture and her fear of Islam arguing that Muslim men, once they return to their home
countries, become violent, bestial, and dishonest, belittle women, and expect rigid
adherence to fixed and irrational principles of behavior. Radically oversimplify-
ing the quality and experience of the varied responses to the Iranian Revolution,
the film invites viewers to condemn all of Iran and all of Islam, showing only the
worst abuses of power and none of the beauty of the faith.
Similarly, Protocol presents viewers with a fictional Arab sheikh attempting to
purchase an American woman’s affections. Never Say Never Again (1983) portrays
Bedouin Arabs haggling over a sumptuous American blonde. Whereas American
women are sometimes captured and treated as chattel by filmic Arabs (as Mus-
lims), Muslim women themselves are often mute. The Sheltering Sky (1990) pres-
ents a common image of Muslim women, silent and covered in a monotonous sea
of black fabric.
Juxtaposed with the image of the silent, oppressed woman is the image of
the belly-dancing, hypersexualized Muslim woman hungry for male attention.
246 | Islam

Assuming the popular identification of Middle Eastern culture with Islam, we can
find a children’s version of this image in Disney’s Aladdin, with Jasmine’s diapha-
nous silks, her exposed abdomen, and her bare shoulders as she strives to over-
come her father’s overbearing and apparently anachronistic expectations of her
role in marriage. Similarly, in Sahara (2005), a group of Germans ask a Muslim
leader to pay for arms shipments, to which the Muslim replies that first “prayers
must be said and the women must be pleasured.”
To some scholars, these images are faulty; the image of the hypersexualized
Muslim women depends upon the assumption that women are indeed viewed as
mere sexual chattel by Muslim men. Sadly absent from most portrayals of Muslim
women in American film is the obvious fact that Muslim women deal with the
same human struggles that all women around the world must confront, living their
lives with the burqa and without, in loving relationships and in troubled ones,
experiencing human life in as much variety of experience as any women of any
faith or culture.
The third stereotype, perhaps the most common one in American action films,
is the direct association of Islam with terrorism and violence, to the near exclusion
of any nonviolent representations of the faith. One of the most chilling depictions
of this stereotype appears in the final scenes of The Siege. A female FBI agent
discovers that her lover is a terrorist when she watches him performing a sadistic
form of wudu, or purification before prayer, as a prelude to killing innocent civil-
ians. Given the fact that this character has previously been portrayed as violating
the most basic expectations for Muslim behavior, to portray him as here identify-
ing prayer with terrorism—and by association to invite viewers to uncritically
associate Islam with violence—is grossly misleading.
A similar association appears in Ernest in the Army (1998), which features an
Arab terrorist who gleefully admires his pluton missile while shouting “Allah be
praised” and “I will bring the infidels to their knees!” Executive Decision directly
links Islam with terrorism and violence, portraying Palestinian Muslim fanatics
waving the Qur’an around with a bomb. The film also shows the camera zooming
in on a terrorist’s ring emblazoned with the name of Allah and depicts one Muslim
character claiming that the Qur’an justifies abuse. This same character shouts “Al-
lahu Akbar” as he brags that he and his partners are “the true soldiers of Islam.”
In a similar vein, Ground Zero (1987) presents viewers with a Muslim terrorist
who prays for martyrdom. The Hitman (1991) features the death of a Muslim “bad
guy” who is shot with the happy exclamation, “So much for Allah!”
Another lopsided depiction appears in Black Hawk Down (2001), which pur-
ports to be based on the “real” events of the Marine intervention in Somalia in
1994 but uncritically blends fact with fiction to depict unsympathetic Somalis
violently attacking downed U.S. helicopters without also depicting the personal
struggles of these same Somalis in their everyday lives or offering any explanation
 Islam | 247

for their apparent rage. Similar one-sided editing in Midnight Express (1978) re-
sults in the disturbing scene of a dead cat hanging from a ceiling beam in the dawn
light while the call to prayer is intoned in the cityscape in the distance.
Rules of Engagement (2000) resembles these films in its dependence on ir-
rational, violent Muslims as characters. In one scene, the film portrays terrorists
who lay down their weapons to pray and then immediately take them up again
afterwards. In another scene, marines open fire on Yemeni women and children,
killing dozens of them in a massacre that is seemingly justified by the film’s rep-
resentation of them as hiding guns and other weapons beneath burqas and inside
children’s clothing. One scholar has noted that when he first viewed the film,
fellow audience members cheered when the Yemenis were gunned down. This
film, along with True Lies and Executive Decision, credits the U.S. Department of
Defense and the U.S. Marine Corps, revealing that the final stamp of approval on
plot and representation was determined by these governmental agencies.
The fourth stereotype is of Muslims who engage in outright anti-Semitic be-
havior, often also exhibiting pronounced anti-Christian bias. In The Delta Force
(1986), raging Palestinians hijack a plane. One terrorist emerges from the lavatory
fully armed and raging “God be praised” in Arabic, announcing his willingness
to die as a martyr if necessary. Unable to control their hatred of Jews, the ter-
rorists in this one-sided film re-enact a mock Holocaust, segregating Jews in a
separate cabin and smashing their guns against people’s heads, refusing the pleas
of a blond-haired blue-eyed stewardess with a thick German accent, and bellow-
ing that although millions of Jews died in the Holocaust, it was “not enough!” It
becomes difficult to tease out the film’s plot from its political functions when one
realizes that The Delta Force, Chain of Command (1994), King Solomon’s Mines
(1985), American Ninja 3: Blood Hunt (1989), American Ninja 4: The Annihila-
tion (1990), and other similar films were produced by an Israeli–American film
company, Cannon Productions, with distinctive ideological leanings. The English
Patient (1996) offers a more complex portrait of Islam in relation to other faiths,
showing a Muslim nurse willing to slice off a patient’s thumbs as punishment but
also representing Muslims, Christians, and Sikhs as being deeply respectful of
one another. A similarly rich and multidimensioned film is Earth (1998), which
depicts Muslims, Hindus, and Sikhs all caught up in the horror of Partition, trying
to cope as best they can with forces largely beyond their control.
The fifth stereotype is that Muslims are unpleasant in character: crass, obese,
corrupt, and generally uncouth. In the midst of his rage at being imprisoned for
years in Turkey for drug smuggling, the lead character in Midnight Express belts
out to his unyielding judge, “For a nation of pigs, it sure is funny that you don’t
eat pork!” In the meantime, in the bowels of the prison, sullen, insane, and filthy
prisoners walk counterclockwise in a dismal parody of the circumambulation of
the Ka’bah in Mecca.
248 | Islam

Some have noted of the supporting characters in Disney’s Aladdin that they
reflect stereotypes about Islam (that the religion is violent; that women are de-
meaned; that the religion endorses magic), making it impossible to separate ste-
reotypes about Arabs from stereotypes about Islam, as all are lumped together into
an unattractive and uncouth stew of attributes.
The sixth stereotype is that Muslims are irrational and/or crazy, often driven
by a frenzied desire to commit terrorist acts and harm others, especially Ameri-
cans. Because The Siege represents Islam as the terrorist’s prime motivating force,
viewers are invited to view Islam itself as the irrational cause for violence in the
real world and encouraged to view complex governmental and political situations
very simplistically.
Viewers are also encouraged to view all Muslims, like the terrorist, as blithely
ignoring the Qur’an’s qualified acceptance of violence only as a form of self-
defense. The film’s representation of a “good” Muslim family, supportive of
wholesome American values and actively seeking assimilation, does little to undo
the stereotypes it presents, since this family is subjected to the same forms of dis-
crimination as other Arabs in the film.
The binary oppositions (“us” versus “them”; “good” versus “evil”; “the West”
versus “Islam”) reinforced by the denigration of Islam in many American films
are, for many people, comforting in their sinister simplicity. It may be fruitless to
inquire whether these films simply reflect already existing misperceptions about
Islam or if the films contribute to the manufacture of these misperceptions. Both are
apparently true to some degree. Viewers interested in a fuller picture of Islam are
encouraged to check out the foreign film section of their local video libraries and to
actively seek out films produced in predominantly Muslim countries to find a more
balanced view of life within the world’s many Muslim communities.
Rachel Wagner
See also: Arab Film.

Further Reading
Dönmez-Colin, Gönül. Women, Islam, and Cinema. London: Reaktion, 2004.
Esposito, John. Islam: The Straight Path. New York: Oxford University Press, 1997.
Lawrence, Bruce. Shattering the Myth: Islam Beyond Violence. Princeton, NJ: Princeton
University Press, 2000.
Ramji, Rubina. “Representations of Islam in American News and Film: Becoming the
‘Other.’ ” In Mediating Religion: Conversations in Media, Religion, and Culture, edited
by Jolyon Mitchell and Sophia Marriage, 65–72. London: Continuum, 2003.
Shaheen, Jack. Reel Bad Arabs: How Hollywood Vilifies a People. New York: Olive Branch
Press, 2001.
J

Japan

Motion picture technology entered Japan at the end of the 19th century, with the
Association of Japanese Motion Pictures forming in 1899. This began a century
of prolific film production whose vitality continues into the present day. Indeed,
prior to World War II, Japan stood second only to Hollywood in volume of film
production, putting out 500 films per year by the start of the war.
The immense popularity of Japanese film has its roots in a period of political
and cultural isolation. Few foreign films found their way into the 2,500 theaters of
prewar Japan and virtually no Japanese films appeared abroad. In its early period,
Japanese film was produced by and for the Japanese. This isolation laid the foun-
dations for a distinctively Japanese style of filmmaking. Film historian Donald
Richie has identified two major features of this style. First, Japanese film followed
the traditions of theater rather than film’s technological ancestor, photography.
Early Japanese films staged kabuki dramas and relied on a benshi (a live narrator)
operating behind the screen and filling the gaps between scenes. Second, this thea-
trical heritage moved Japanese film into a more “presentational” mode in which
the representation of reality was less important than adherence to certain esthetic
conventions of visual composition and narrative structure. Although later Japanese
film developed a tradition of realism paralleling that of western film, a more poetic
and self-consciously artificial style has continued to inform Japanese filmmaking
at the most basic levels of cinematography, art, and subject matter.
As the sharp distinction between religious and secular life is not indigenous to
Japanese culture, Japanese films tend to bear their religious heritage in a more ca-
sual, implicit way rather than in explicit presentations of doctrine or institutional-
ized religious practices. For example, the Japanese concept of mono no aware (an
appreciation for ephemeral beauty and the acceptance of its passing) finds expres-
sion in the naturalistic environs of Shinto temples, the simplicity of Zen Buddhist
drawings, and the carefully composed scenes of Yasujirō Ozu’s films. In Bakushû
(Early Summer, 1951), an enormous statue of the Buddha provides the frame for
249
250 | Japan

the passing of three generations: during a casual afternoon in the park, carefree
children test their great-uncle’s deafness as he leans against the Buddha’s knees,
while, as a businessman lights incense in the background, their aunt discusses the
possibilities of her impending marriage. The Buddha, who represents transcen-
dence of the transience of life, serves as the literal and metaphorical background
for this picture of human frailty, the innocence of childhood, and the passing from
one life stage to another. In Kenji Mizoguchi’s Ugetsu monogatari (Tales of Ug-
estu, 1953), a seduction provides strikingly beautiful scenes that are later revealed
as the product of supernatural deception: a ghost has fed the greed and wishful
thinking of the protagonist and nearly draws him into death. Drawing on Japan’s
indigenous religious themes, Mizoguchi has a spirit prey on the moral weakness of
a man who values wealth and pleasure over his commitment to his family. In both
of these films, the precarious grip of human attachments finds expression within
religious frames, but without explicit discussion.
Occasionally religious themes take a more prominent position within Japanese
film, and here the contours of Japanese religion require closer discussion. Shinto,
which dates from the earliest periods of Japan’s history, guides the relationship
between humans and a myriad of spirits that infuse both the natural and social
worlds. These kami (spirits) may inhabit natural features such as streams, trees, or
mountains, but they may also exist without specific location or take a more general
form, as indicated in a person’s genius or skill. Over the centuries, the ubiquitous
presence of kami has found reflection in innumerable temples and shrines, often of
modest size and lacking ornamentation, which provide regular and convenient ac-
cess to kami. Although devotion to kami has declined in contemporary Japan, this
heritage lives on in film and finds particularly fertile ground in Japanese anima-
tion, or anime. Unfettered by the strictures of live-action filmmaking, films such
as Hayao Miyazaki’s Mononoke Hime (Princess Mononoke, 1997) depict fantastic
metamorphoses that link humans and kami. In this film the economic exploitation
of natural resources results in the appearance of a vengeful evil spirit that threatens
to destroy the city. Whereas Princess Mononoke emphasizes harmony and balance
in relation to the land, Miyazaki’s Sen to Chihiro no Kamikakushi (Spirited Away,
2000) portrays the spiritual maturation of a young girl. In this film, an abandoned
amusement park turns into a bathhouse for kami each night, and the film’s protag-
onist must work within the spirit world to free her parents, who have fallen under
a spell. In these films Shinto themes of respectful negotiation with the spirit world
find expression in fantastic narratives and spectacular transformations.
Although Shinto concerns itself with the spiritual dimension that underlies
everyday concerns and surroundings, Japan’s Buddhist traditions have proved par-
ticularly important in funerary ritual and the cult of ancestors. While the highest
goal of Buddhism is the pursuit of enlightenment, including a state of detachment
 Japan | 251

from the transience of life, many popular forms of Buddhism assume that such a
goal may be achieved only after multiple lifetimes within cycles of rebirth. For
this reason many Buddhists, and particularly the Japanese, practice their Bud-
dhist traditions by praying for the posthumous prosperity of family members and
maintaining a domestic shrine in their honor. An example of such concerns can be
found in Kon Ichikawa’s Biruma no tategoto (The Burmese Harp, 1956), which
sets a Buddhist approach toward death within the frame of national consciousness.
Set in Burma near the end of the Second World War, this film tells the story of a
Japanese soldier who, after being separated from his unit, disguises himself as a
Buddhist priest and walks 200 miles to rejoin his comrades. During his journey
he encounters so many dead compatriots that, upon finding his unit as it prepares
to return to Japan, he decides to stay and become a priest, burying and praying for
the dead. From a more satirical perspective and targeting the economic aspects
of the Buddhist funeral industry, Juzo Itami’s Ososhiki (The Funeral, 1984) shows
the decline of the cult of ancestors as a family debates and tries to remember the
proper customs for caring for the dead.
Buddhism represents only one nonindigenous tradition that has played a
highly influential role within Japanese culture. One may also note the influence of
Chinese traditions such as Confucianism, with its elevation of the family order to
the status of the sacred, and Taoism, with its numerous health practices and cal-
endar of auspicious dates. Indeed, despite its isolation, Japan has long maintained
a fascination with foreign cultures, often assuming the validity and superiority
of foreign customs while fashioning uniquely Japanese versions of them. Such a
tendency can be seen very early in the history of Japanese film. Minoru Murata’s
Rojo no Reikon (Souls on the Road, 1921) adapts Maxim Gorky’s The Lower
Depths (1902) and opens with the following quotation from that work: “We, as
human beings, must have pity for those about us. Christ had this quality and we
also must cultivate it. There is a time for us to express this—this we must watch
for.” Drawing on a Russian socialist’s appreciation for Christian values, Murata
here creates a religious frame for an audience who could hardly be familiar with
the broader context of the quotation, thus creating an opening for a distinctively
new and Japanese perspective on Christian pity.
Japan’s defeat in 1945 and the American occupation that followed left an en-
during imprint on Japan’s reception of foreign cultures. The desacralization of the
emperor, who had claimed divine status up until Japan’s surrender, propelled a
secularization of Japanese culture and of Japanese film in particular. On the one
hand, overt celebrations of Japanese religion would have raised concerns among
the American occupiers (and censors) who wished to denationalize cultural ex-
pression. On the other, the Japanese themselves became disillusioned with the
intense religious devotion that had accompanied the militarism that had driven
252 | Japan

the country into war. Given this climate, Japanese filmmakers moved toward a
complex cosmopolitanism (with the important exception of Ozu, who turned in-
ward into the Japanese home), refusing to produce films that could serve as icons
of Japanese nationality. Foremost among such filmmakers stands Akira Kuro-
sawa. His Yojimbo (1961) adapts the American genre of the western to a Japanese
context, with the itinerant gunslinger now an unemployed, morally ambivalent
samurai of 19th-century Japan, and ends on a religiously ambiguous note. After
the final bloodbath which resolves the drama, a villager walks among the bodies,
beating a prayer drum, while the dying villain rejects the prayers and pledges to
meet the protagonist in hell. Kurosawa’s Ran (1985) combines the story of a 16th-
century Japanese warlord with elements of Shakespeare’s King Lear. After the
catastrophic dissolution of his family, the aging lord declares that Buddha is ab-
sent from the world. The film ends with a blind man, wandering through the ruins
of his family’s castle, stumbling and dropping a Buddhist scroll over a precipice.
In his films, Kurosawa draws on a number of cultural and religious traditions,
always in a critical vein.
More recently, Japanese anime has offered some of the most eclectic uses of
religious themes within a secular context. Mamoru Oshii’s Kôkaku kidôtai (Ghost
in the Shell, 1995), based on the comic book by Masamune Shirow, gives a reli-
gious cast to the emergence of artificial intelligence: a disembodied voice intones 1
Corinthians 13:12 to announce a new era and life form: “for now we see through
a glass, darkly.” Rintaro’s Metoroporisu (Metropolis, 2001), based on the comic
book by Osamu Tezuka, can be read as an adaptation of the story of the Tower of
Babel, opening with a triumphant announcement of the creation of a ziggurat (a
temple of the type built by the ancient Babylonians) that would reach to the heav-
ens and effect a technological acquisition of divine power. In these films, religious
allusions address the philosophical and social consequences of an increasingly
technological society, one that holds capabilities that were formerly the exclusive
province of the gods.
Beyond explicit allusions, one can see the influence of religion in Japanese
treatments of existential themes more broadly. In Hirokazu Koreeda’s Wandâfuru
raifu (After Life, 1998), the recently dead visit a special agency that prepares them
for the rest of their afterlife. They must choose a memory that the agency will
then recreate, with sets and actors, in order to create a short film that the dead per-
son in question will watch for eternity. Many find the choice of memory difficult
and some refuse entirely. Those who refuse, the viewer learns, join the agency and
help others in their choice. In terms of religion, the bureaucratic, technical, and
managerial dimensions of the agency speak to conceptions of the afterlife drawn
largely from Chinese religious traditions. The characters who stay behind reflect
the Buddhist notion of the bodhisattva, a figure who has achieved enlightenment
 Japan | 253

but who remains in the world of illusion out of compassion for those who continue
to labor and suffer therein.
Although secularization has by no means eliminated religion from Japanese
film, it has engendered an eclecticism and ambivalence with respect to religious
tradition. The Burmese Harp and After Life display inverted bodhisattvas, figures
who remain with the dead rather than the living, or who create illusions in their
refusal to accept them. Kurosawa’s Yojimbo gives a picture of hell on earth, but its
hero is neither demon nor angel and its ending is hardly hopeful. Japanese films
rarely “preach,” and their religious statements often contain an underside or com-
plication that negates any simple affirmation.
Finally, one cannot ignore the shock value of religious themes and images.
Japanese film has made use of the figure of the nun, either Catholic or Buddhist,
to give a perverse charge to pornographic images. Norifumi Suzuki’s Seijû gakuen
(School of the Holy Beast, 1974), a prototype of the “nunsploitation” genre of Jap-
anese film, emphasizes sadomasochism and bondage in its portrayal of religious
penitential practices. More recently, Japanese anime has developed a subgenre
of “demon porn” (a contribution to a more long-standing tradition of eroguro,
the “erotic grotesque”) in which fantastic creatures star in orgies of sexual viola-
tion, death, and destruction. For example, in Hideki Takayama’s Chôjin densetsu
Urotsukidôji (Legend of the Overfiend, 1989), a mythic prophecy states that every
3,000 years an archdemon will come to unify the three worlds of demons, humans,
and man/beasts. The plot centers on the demonic impregnation of a young girl.
Even the catastrophe of nuclear destruction has not escaped esthetic exploitation.
Whereas the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki receive more somber treat-
ments in Isao Takahata’s Hotaru no haka (Grave of the Fireflies, 1988), and Shohei
Imamura’s Kuroi ame (Black Rain, 1989), atomic explosions become apocalyptic
spectacles of destruction and renewal in anime works such as Katsuhiro Otomo’s
Akira (1988). Japanese film here imparts mythic overtones to spectacles of de-
struction and violation, thus fusing sensory bombardment and religious meaning.
Religious expression in Japanese film follows the trends of Japanese religios-
ity in general. In Japan, most associate the category of “religion” with specific sets
of beliefs and a sense of exclusive group identification (the category is closer to
the western conception of “sect” or “cult”). For this reason only a minority of Jap-
anese consider themselves “religious.” However, scholars have noted that while
lacking in religious belief, a majority of Japanese participate in prayers, holidays,
and festivals. Multiple religious affiliations are therefore the rule, not the excep-
tion: many households maintain both Shinto and Buddhist shrines and celebrate
religious holidays from a variety of traditions. From this perspective, prayers and
religious celebrations are often seen simply as social and cultural traditions: the
background of life. When religious features appear in film, therefore, one should
254 | Jesus

not be surprised if they play a role whose significance is not highlighted. Reli-
giously significant figures and events may flow in and out of Japanese films with-
out taking center stage or demanding elaboration on the part of the filmmaker.
Kerry Mitchell
See also: Buddhism; Kurosawa, Akira; Miyazaki, Hayao; Mizoguchi, Kenji;
Ozu, Yasujirō.

Further Reading
Bordwell, David. Ozu and the Poetics of Cinema. London: British Film Institute, 1988.
Cavallaro, Dani. The Anime Art of Hayao Miyazaki. Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 2006.
Le Fanu, Mark. Mizoguchi and Japan. London: British Film Institute, 2005.
Napier, Susan J. Anime from Akira to Princess Mononoke: Experiencing Contemporary
Japanese Animation. New York: Palgrave, 2001.
Prince, Stephen. The Warrior’s Camera: The Cinema of Akira Kurosawa. Princeton, NJ:
Princeton University Press, 1999.
Washburn, Dennis, and Carole Cavanaugh, eds. Word and Image in Japanese Cinema.
New York: Cambridge University Press, 2001.

Jesus

Jesus’ life, especially the last week of it, has been a favorite topic of filmmakers
since the beginning of the film industry. Even in recent years, with the viewing pub-
lic supposedly less religious, filmmakers as diverse and popular as Martin Scors-
ese and Mel Gibson have felt the urge to make a cinematic statement on the life of
Jesus. In both of these recent cases, great controversy erupted, along with both crit-
ical acclaim and derision; in the case of Gibson, it also resulted in one of the top-
grossing movies of all time. One common thread that runs through all of these
films—whether they are intended to edify or merely entertain, whether they are
from the most agnostic or even atheist perspective or from the most conservatively
Christian—is how these filmmakers play with the Gospel narratives, frequently
(and usually without any acknowledgment) supplementing them with extrabiblical
details or even relying on a later novelization of the Gospel accounts.
The silent-film industry produced several versions of Jesus’ life, but the
master of epics, Cecil B. DeMille, made the most memorable one—The King of
Kings (1927). It begins with a long sequence of a beautiful and seductive Mary
Magdalene, who is angry because her lover Judas has left her to follow a Galilean
 Jesus | 255

preacher. Besides the nonbiblical detail of a Mary–Judas liaison, there is also the
equally nonbiblical but visually stunning sight of her driving a chariot pulled by a
team of zebras. The first time we are shown Jesus in the film it is also in a nonbibli-
cal scene, through the eyes of a blind girl whom he has healed. When Mary meets
Jesus, she seems mesmerized by him, so that Judas looks quite jealous. Judas is
also shown in the film as disappointed that Jesus will not establish an earthly king-
dom, a theme found in several of the movies. The love triangle and the failed revo-
lution both give some plausibility and explanation to Judas’s betrayal of Jesus.
Following on decades of films more indirectly or peripherally depicting Jesus’
life—such as The Robe (1953) and Ben-Hur (1959)—director Nicholas Ray, best
known for the film Rebel without a Cause (1955), made his own King of Kings
(1961). Here again we have the addition of scenes to make it seem that Jesus
is specifically rejecting the promptings of others—in this version, led by Barab-
bas and helped by Judas—to raise a rebellion against Rome. Some scenes are
also added just for excitement, including two large and extravagantly violent (by
the day’s standards) battle scenes. The film also works in the famous theory of
Thomas DeQuincey (1785–1859) that Judas betrayed Jesus in an attempt to force
Jesus to fight against the Romans.
Shortly after King of Kings, one of the best-known Jesus movies was released,
The Greatest Story Ever Told (1965), directed by George Stevens. The film is a
big epic in the worst sense of the term—two of the more noticeable shortcomings
are how it has every part, no matter how small, played by a famous actor, and how
intent Stevens was on presenting visually stunning scenes, but with little attempt
at drama or characterization. This is brought out especially during the Passion,
where we see the deaths of both Judas and Jesus from such a long distance that the
scenes are unemotional and merely spectacular but not engaging. Nonbiblical ad-
ditions include the repeated appearances of Satan, and Judas’s death by throwing
himself into a huge fire.
Two rock musicals were based on the life of Jesus, Jesus Christ Superstar
(1973) by Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice, and Godspell (1973), with songs
by Stephen Schwartz. Stage versions of both are still produced and popular.
Movie versions of both were released in 1973, with Superstar directed by Nor-
man Jewison and Godspell directed by David Greene. In Superstar, Jesus seems
out of control in general—an early scene in which he is overwhelmed by zom-
bielike lepers brings this out very vividly, as does his inability to make himself
understood by either Mary or Judas, both of whom seem devoted to Jesus but
frustrated by his enigmatic and unresponsive communications. With regard to
Judas, the musical essentially inverts the proposed scenario of DeQuincey and
is more similar to that of Dorothy Sayers (1893–1957) in her novel The Man
Born to Be King (1943). Judas believes that Jesus’ message and popularity are
256 | Jesus

Max von Sydow portrays Jesus in The Greatest Story Ever Told, 1965. AP Photo.

dangerous to himself and his followers; therefore Judas tries to protect Jesus by
turning him over to the authorities, as fatal as his actions turn out to be. Judas’s
deeds seem in the end to have been positively motivated and/or forgiven, as he
returns after his death for a final triumphal song. The movie version was rendered
much more controversial by the casting of Carl Anderson, an African American,
in the role of Judas, though his ambiguously dual role as both Jesus’ betrayer and
the hero of the story make it difficult to know what further twist his race is sup-
posed to imply.
Godspell, on the other hand, is a more lighthearted retelling of the gospel
story. Among Jesus movies, which sometimes downplay Jesus’ ethical teachings
in preference for his miracles and his passion, the musical includes both direct
statements of some of Jesus’ teachings as well as re-enactments of some of the
parables. The musical is problematic for some Christians in its depiction of the dis-
ciples and especially of Judas. The disciples in general are shown much more
positively than they are in the canonical Gospels—they obey Jesus throughout,
help enact some of the parables, suffer in crucifixion postures along with Jesus,
and tend to his body after his death. And Judas is only following Jesus’ command
 Jesus | 257

to betray him, the explanation also found in The Last Temptation of Christ (1988)
as well as in the apocryphal Gospel of Judas. Jesus appears a playful, clownish
figure, leading disciples who are not very much in need of redemption because
they are not as sinful and disobedient as they are in the Gospels.
Shortly after, what is probably the most widely viewed Jesus film appeared
as a television miniseries, Jesus of Nazareth (1977), directed by Franco Zeffire-
lli. Although the production promised a more human Jesus, his actions and de-
meanor seemed more detached and angelic than most other performances of Jesus
on screen. And although there is more time spent on the setup and beginning of
Jesus’ life, and seemingly more attention to biblical accuracy, again this is not the
whole story. The plot is to a large extent driven by Zerah, a wholly nonbiblical
character, who tricks Judas into handing Jesus over to the Sanhedrin. The whole
story in general seems intent on making one feel good about Jesus, or even Judas,
by not having anyone behave in a wicked or provocative manner and by having
Jesus behave in as inoffensive and misunderstood a way as possible.
In the next decade, Martin Scorsese produced his version of Jesus’ life; how-
ever, he did not claim to base it on the Gospels directly but instead on the 1951
novel The Last Temptation of Christ by Nikos Kazantzakis. The film was contro-
versial when it was released because in many ways it did deliver on the promise
of a more human Jesus, a Jesus with doubts and weaknesses, and such a depiction
was not acceptable to some believers. The “temptation” of the title is, in fact,
the temptation offered by the attractiveness of being human, of being an ordi-
nary person who is not called to some world-changing or world-saving mission.
Such a temptation seems to be felt by Jesus throughout the film, but it reaches
its climax on the cross. While dying, Jesus imagines the Devil coming to him in
the form of a beautiful little girl who takes him down from the cross and leads
him away to live a normal life. He imagines the pleasant normalcy of such a life,
which would include sex (including adultery), work, raising children, and dying
a peaceful death many years hence. But this reverie is shattered when his loyal
friend Judas appears in the dream and reminds Jesus of his responsibility, espe-
cially his responsibility to Judas, who had helped bring about Jesus’ crucifixion
by following Jesus’ command to turn him over to the authorities. And although
Jesus being tempted in this way is troubling to some, it should be noted that in the
end Jesus rejects even this last and most powerful temptation and accomplishes
his sacrificial death.
The following year, French Canadian director Denys Arcand released Jésus
de Montréal (Jesus of Montreal, 1989). Unlike most of the Jesus films, this one
is set in modern times, though it is not just a story of a Christ figure, but a full re-
telling or reimagining of the Gospel story. In it, Daniel and four friends are asked
by a Father Leclerc to put on a play of Jesus’ life. The friends do some research
258 | Jesus

to come up with a version that is a sort of pastiche of various theories, almost a

parody of the historical–critical method: the virgin birth is rationalized away and
Jesus is the illegitimate son of a Roman soldier (the exact scenario for Brian of
Nazareth, who is mistaken for Jesus in Monty Python’s Life of Brian [1979]).
Much like modern critics in the Jesus Seminar—a colloquium of scholars inves-
tigating the sources of the New Testament—the actors depict Jesus’ miracles as
superstitious antics similar to those performed by many other men of his time;
they excise from his teaching anything apocalyptic or judgmental; and they spiri-
tualize his resurrection to suggest merely that Jesus will live on in the hearts of
his followers. Although the audiences enjoy the play’s novelty, Father Leclerc and
his superiors demand that it be shut down. But outside the play, Daniel’s own life
starts to bear a frightening resemblance to many of the excised parts of the Gospel
story: defending a female friend who has prostituted herself to do commercials,
Daniel wields a scourge of video cables against the wicked directors; in an of-
fice high in a skyscraper, he is tempted by a devilish lawyer to sell out to market
demands; he is actually killed in the crucifixion scene and held by the one female
character in a pose deliberately meant to evoke a pietá; finally, his dead body is
laid with its arms sticking straight out and dismembered to provide literal “resur-
rection” with the organs thus harvested. The film works as a moving indictment of
both the institutional church and the scant value of the historical–critical method
in light of the mysterious power of the Gospel to transform lives.
Finally, the most recent and most commercially successful of Jesus films is
The Passion of the Christ (2004). Gibson’s film does not attempt much acknowl-
edgment of Jesus’ life or even his last week but focuses steadily on his last hours.
It is known for its extremely graphic violence, which has been defended as an
appropriate way to focus on Jesus’ sacrifice. However, it has also been criticized
because it lacks much in the way of context—Jesus’ life and his resurrection are
barely hinted at. The film makes high claims for verisimilitude, going so far as
to be filmed in Aramaic and Latin with subtitles. But, as noted with the other
films, such claims again must be set against the extrabiblical influences—in this
case, The Dolorous Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ of Anne Catherine Em-
merich (1774–1824), which provides some of the nonbiblical details and may
account for some of the alleged anti-Semitism of Gibson’s film. Although many
would admit that the Gospels themselves are not wholly free of anti-Semitism,
especially the most damaging verse of the “blood libel” in Matthew 27:25, the
director’s choice of which verses to ignore and which to highlight in his film
do make a difference in how the overall action is perceived and interpreted by
the audience. Accusations of anti-Semitism seemed confirmed when Gibson
was later pulled over for drunken driving and proceeded to launch into an anti-
Semitic rant against the policeman. Whatever the director’s personal flaws, many
 Joan of Arc | 259

obviously found The Passion an enlightening and powerful presentation of the

end of Jesus’ life.
Kim Paffenroth
See also: Bible Films; DeMille, Cecil B.; The Last Temptation of Christ
Controversy; The Passion of the Christ Controversy; Scorsese, Martin.

Further Reading
Baugh, Lloyd. Imaging the Divine: Jesus and Christ-Figures in Film. Kansas City, MO:
Sheed and Ward, 1997.
Humphries-Brooks, Stephenson. Cinematic Savior: Hollywood’s Making of the American
Christ. Westport, CT: Praeger, 2006.
Kinnard, Roy, and Tim Davis. Divine Images: A History of Jesus on the Screen. New York:
Citadel Press, 1992.
Reinhartz, Adele. Jesus of Hollywood. New York: Oxford University Press, 2007.
Stern, Richard, Clayton Jefford, and Guerric DeBona. Savior on the Silver Screen. Mah-
wah, NJ: Paulist Press, 1999.
Tatum, W. Barnes. Jesus at the Movies: A Guide to the First Hundred Years. Santa Rosa,
CA: Polebridge Press, 1997 (revised and expanded edition, 2004).
Walsh, Richard. Reading the Gospels in the Dark: Portrayals of Jesus in Film. Harrisburg,
PA: Trinity Press International, 2003.

Joan of Arc

Considered France’s most famous daughter, Joan of Arc was a pious peasant born
at Domremy on January 6, 1412; she died at Rouen on May 30, 1431. Unable to
read or write, she was inspired by heavenly “voices” that she believed were sent
by God. When she was 16, Joan obeyed those voices to assist the crown prince
of France. After passing a number of tests devised by the prince, learned theolo-
gians, and doctors and despite her youthfulness, gender, and lack of education or
military training, she was given the rank of captain and led French soldiers into
battle against the English, who were invading France during the Hundred Years
War (1337–1453).
Joan had great personal charisma and proved to be a fierce, relentless, and ef-
fective warrior/leader who actively participated in the battles and even survived a
severe arrow wound. Joan achieved a miraculous military victory over the English
in the Siege of Orleans in May 1429, resulting in the crowning of the prince to
become King Charles VII at a coronation in Rheims Cathedral on July 17, 1429,
260 | Joan of Arc

with Joan standing in a position of honor. In March 1430, Joan was captured by the
Burgundians while defending the town of Compiegne and later sold to the hated
English. The apathetic King Charles refused to pay her ransom, thus effectively
abandoning her to her fate.
Joan was tried in ecclesiastical court for being a witch, a schismatic, and a
male impersonator, yet she defended herself with such eloquence and subtlety
that her accusers canceled their public hearings and harassed her behind closed
doors. After 14 months of grueling interrogation and harsh prison life, Joan weak-
ened, signed a confession, and was sentenced to life imprisonment. However, she
quickly recovered, recanted, and was subsequently found guilty of being a re-
lapsed heretic and witch, while her supernatural “voices” were deemed false and
diabolical. She was sentenced to death and burned at the stake; her ashes were
thrown into the Seine.
In 1449, her conviction was appealed, and in 1456, a commission of ecclesiasti-
cal lawyers declared Joan’s trial null and void; thus her conviction was overturned.
Joan was beatified by the Roman Catholic Church on April 11, 1909, canonized
by Pope Benedict XV on May 16, 1920, and ultimately became the patron saint of
France. She has become one of the Catholic Church’s most celebrated saints.
The story of Joan of Arc has been interpreted and reinterpreted many times
and has become a powerful cultural artifact that is frequently appropriated and
reconstructed to fit the sociopolitical ideals of the day. In addition to the wealth of
historical, artistic, and literary treatments based on her life, she is a much-favored
film icon, second only to Jesus Christ. In general, religion, myth, history, art, and
politics have converged to the point where Joan of Arc has achieved cinematic im-
mortality as the female symbol of heroism and/or profound religious faith.
Many Joan of Arc films were made immediately after the birth of the cin-
ema, including one from the studios of inventor Thomas Alva Edison, Joan of
Arc (1895), and another by film pioneer Georges Méliès, Jeanne d’Arc (1899).
This latter film consisted of 12 tableaux depicting vast crowds and elaborate cos-
tumes, thus making it the grand spectacle of its day. Regrettably, many Joan of
Arc films are lost to history; those that have survived are few but significant, such
as Widgey R. Newman’s one-reel Saint Joan (1927), which focuses on the ca-
thedral scene from George Bernard Shaw’s play. However, the crowning glory
of the silent genre (and some argue the entire Joan of Arc genre) is Carl Theodor
Dreyer’s La Passion de Jeanne d’Arc (The Passion of Joan of Arc, 1928). Based
upon actual court records and concentrating heavily upon her inquisitors and the
trial process, it was shot mostly in tightly framed closeups that brought the human
side of Joan vividly to life, thus proving Dreyer to be the master of communicating
human tragedy via the face. The film still inspires audiences today, especially the
harrowing burning shots from Joan’s point of view. Ironically, this powerful story
 Joan of Arc | 261

of medieval Catholicism was directed by a German Protestant. Dreyer’s intention

was not to make a religious spectacle or a historical documentary but rather an
emotional drama out of the intense questioning that Joan had to endure throughout
the trial. She is portrayed as a pious victim, full of naïvete, innocence, and spiritual
wisdom, who was subjected to intense terror by the sophisticated perfidy of the
clerical judges. Dreyer’s Joan was not a saint, a political symbol, or a nationalistic
hero but rather a soul in turmoil. Dreyer became the target of some opprobrium as
a result of his negative depictions of church officials.
Cecil B. DeMille’s Joan the Woman (1917), in a flashback sequence that mixed
fantasy with reality and the past with the present, focuses powerfully upon Joan as
a normal woman. However, the Episcopalian DeMille was vilified for infusing ro-
mance into his bifurcated plot, and like Dreyer, for maligning the Catholic clergy.
The posturing of the prosecuting bishop and his shadowy cohorts—in their dark
cassocks and cowls—became the very image of cruelty, vanity, self-indulgence,
inhumanity, and inscrutability. It was the first Joan of Arc film done entirely as
a spectacle, and it emphasized Joan’s dignified humanity over her otherworldly
saintliness.
The other major silent film in this genre was Marc[o] de Gastyne’s La Merveil-
leuse vie de Jeanne d’Arc (Saint Joan the Maid, 1929). Unfortunately it has been
overlooked by historians because of the earlier release of Dreyer’s masterpiece.
Unlike Dreyer’s haunting Joan or DeMille’s dignified Joan, de Gastyne’s Joan is
of boyish build but still a poignant and powerful if also reluctant hero. De Gastyne
focused on Joan’s attachment to, and forced renunciation of, her male dress, which
supposedly underpinned her voices and sense of divine mission. Dramatically
speaking, it contains powerful battles and an elaborate coronation scene, which
was shot in front of the real Rheims Cathedral (with its Joan of Arc statue tempo-
rarily removed).
Despite the dramatic power of silent films, the introduction of sound to film
ushered in a new wave of Joan of Arc films to further tantalize, amaze, and inspire
audiences. One of the most prominent offerings was Gustav Ucicky’s Das Mäd-
chen Johanna (Joan the Maid, 1935), a Nazi propaganda film. It was officially
sanctioned by the Nazis for its patriotic, artistic, nationalistic, militaristic, and
anti-English qualities. Ucicky’s Joan was portrayed as a martyr sent to restore a
sense of divine mission to France; however, she was a divinity rooted in the ideal
of the “superman,” not of Christianity. Not surprisingly, the film was considered
blasphemous by the Roman Catholic Church. Victor Fleming’s color film Joan of
Arc (1948) portrayed Joan as diffident, self-effacing, boisterous, persecuted yet
pure tomboy heroine who could rouse a crowd. However, Joan the warrior is em-
phasized at the expense of her spirituality. Roberto Rossellini’s Giovanna d’Arco
al Rogo (Joan of Arc at the Stake, 1954) emphasizes the Christian miracle and
262 | Joan of Arc

supernatural flavor of the Joan story but lacks poetic forcefulness, although this
Joan is here presented as a more reflective character than she is in earlier versions.
The “Jeanne” segment in Jean Delannoy’s Destinees (1954) was designed to illus-
trate the concept of faith. The segment focuses upon the moment that the king and
soldiers desert Joan. She is portrayed as triumphing through hope, not as a victim
but as an agent who used war to help her fulfill her cosmic destiny.
Irwin Allen’s The Story of Mankind (1957) is a fantasy film about humankind
being judged in the court of heaven over its newly acquired super H-bomb, which
could destroy all life on earth. In defense of humanity, the Spirit of Man evokes the
story of Joan of Arc as an example of both human triumph and tragedy. Otto Prem-
inger’s Saint Joan (1957) continued in the tradition of Joan as a boyish person of
waiflike build. She is portrayed as a holy innocent, not a calculating heroine, who
conveys truthfulness and sincerity in a very restrained fashion. Robert Bresson’s
Procès de Jeanne d’Arc (Trial of Joan of Arc, 1962) was adapted from actual
court transcripts and attempts to recreate her trial and execution, including an
imitation of medieval scholastic dialectics. Bresson focused upon the psychologi-
cal and physical torture that Joan had to endure. He used nonprofessional actors
and a muted, low-key, cinema verité style that was the antithesis of Hollywood
pageantry, commercialism, and anti-intellectualism. Bresson depicted his Joan as
a sophisticated, calculating woman who was not naïve, and he compared Joan’s
fiery end with Jesus’ passion. Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure (1989) concerns
two teenage, rock ’n’ roll airheads who are about to flunk their history course but
are given the opportunity to travel in time to meet historical figures, including Joan
of Arc. In the process, they provide an alternative view of the sources of Joan’s
heavenly voices.
Luc Besson’s The Messenger: The Story of Joan of Arc (1999) is an epic ren-
dition of Joan’s story that focuses on the nation-founding aspects of the narrative
and the brutality of the trial process but not on Joan’s spiritual qualities. Bes-
son was more interested in the political struggles and court maneuvering of the
time than Joan’s voices, which are represented as hallucinations and dreams sup-
posedly coming from her unflagging passion for revenge against the English for
raping and killing her sister (fury rather than faith). Besson portrayed Joan as a
warrior and a feminist (carrying the torch of womankind into a man’s world) who
was terribly disturbed by the violence and injustice of war. Besson portrays her
as being plagued by mental demons, suggesting that she was hysterical, confused,
demented, misled, guilt-ridden, and thus a religious phony, thereby reducing
Joan’s divine mission into poor historical fiction. This is an innovative twist in the
tale, but overall the film failed to comprehend (let alone express) the miraculous.
Instead, it opted for fashionable skepticism.
 Joan of Arc | 263

Many versions of the Joan of Arc story exist around the world, as well as many
innovative Joan of Arc figures, Joan-related objects of desire, or Joan references
both within the popular cinema and on TV. For example, George Willoughby’s
silent Australian film The Joan of Arc of Loos (1916) is about World War I pa-
triotism; after seeing a vision of an angel, Emilienne Moreau, a young peasant
woman, leads the Allied attack at the village of Loos, which is under German oc-
cupation. In George Loane Tucker’s silent World War I propaganda comedy Joan
of Plattsburg (1918), Joan, a modern-day orphan girl, overhears voices, but they
belong to a nest of German spies, not saints. Taking matters into her own hands,
Joan brings the spies to justice and earns the undying gratitude of the army train-
ing camp in Plattsburg, New York. Joseph Santley’s Joan of Ozark (1942) is a
musical comedy about Judy Hull, an Ozark maiden who bags a Nazi spy pigeon
and becomes a U.S. hero-cum-counterespionage agent, while Robert Stevenson’s
wartime drama Joan of Paris (1942) has its protagonist a Joan who idolizes Joan
of Arc, her patron saint, who sacrifices herself to save some downed British pilots
from a Nazi firing squad. Frank McDonald’s crime film The Big Tip Off (1955) has
as its heroine a skeptical nun called Sister Mary Joan of Arc, which at least links
Joan with pious religiosity, while Patrick Ledoux’s French drama film Klann—
Grand Guignol (1969) tells the story of a successful megalomaniac film director
who is seeking an ideal present-day Joan of Arc for his next film. However, after
confusing women and actresses, work and life, and failing to impose his will upon
a succession of applicants for the role, he realizes that his ideal Joan is unobtain-
able. Sam Wells’s black-and-white experimental film Wired Angel (1999) is a re-
telling of the story of Joan of Arc in a postindustrial setting. Its gritty, high-tech
urban style set in a modern industrial landscape belies the historical Joan’s rustic
origins. Nonetheless, it evokes the essence of the Joan mythology. Drawing upon
transcripts from the trial, it offers a brooding psychological portrait of Joan that
explores aspects of her interior life from childhood to death.
No doubt many more renditions of France’s most famous female martyr will
be produced in the future and thus will reflect the cultural and sociopolitical con-
cerns of their director, day, age, and culture.
Anton Karl Kozlovic
See also: Besson, Luc; Catholicism; DeMille, Cecil B.; Dreyer, Carl Theodor.

Further Reading
Blaetz, Robin. Visions of the Maid: Joan of Arc in American Film and Culture. Charlot-
tesville: University of Virginia Press, 2001.
264 | Judaism

Bordwell, David. Filmguide to La Passion de Jeanne d’Arc. Bloomington: Indiana Uni-

versity Press, 1973.
Maddox, Peggy. “Retiring the Maid: The Last Joan of Arc Movie.” Journal of Religion and
Popular Culture 3 (Spring 2003): http://www.usask.ca/relst/jrpc/art-joanofarc-print.html.
Margolis, N. Joan of Arc in History, Literature, and Film: A Select, Annotated Bibliogra-
phy. New York: Garland, 1990.
Scalia, B. “Contrasting Visions of a Saint: Carl Dreyer’s The Passion of Joan of Arc and
Luc Besson’s The Messenger.” Literature/Film Quarterly 32, no. 3 (2004): 181–185.

Judaism

Judaism, a religious tradition that originated in the Middle East some 4,000 years
ago, has undergone much subsequent change and development. Although conver-
sion to Judaism is possible, Jewish identity has been closely associated with a
multicultural community, the Jewish people, since biblical times. Not all Jews are
adherents of Judaism; particularly in Israel and the United States (the countries
with the largest Jewish populations), many understand their identity in ethnic–
cultural terms. However, this discussion concentrates on representations of Jewish
religious culture.
The early cinema was more accessible to immigrants than were most estab-
lished industries, and many of the Hollywood studios were founded by Jews who
had only recently arrived in the United States. Not atypically, Adolph Zucker
(Paramount) and Samuel Goldwyn (Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer) studied in European
yeshivot (institutions of traditional Jewish religious education) before immigrat-
ing to America. More recently, numerous people who have risen to prominence
since the studio system’s decline (from the 1960s onward) are of Jewish descent
(including directors Woody Allen, Darren Aronofsky, Sidney Lumet, Joan Micklin
Silver, and Steven Spielberg). Given these realities and the persistent perception
among cineastes and scholars that Jews have played a disproportionately signifi-
cant role in the film industry, there are surprisingly few positive screen images of
Judaism. Until the last 30 years, most films were negatively stereotypical in their
representation of Jewish culture. Even those that were not explicitly so tended to
be assimilationist, focusing less on Judaism and other Jewish “differences” than
on common values and experiences. Some positive images emerge in contempo-
rary films, but sympathetic, nuanced treatments remain rare. As a “structuring
absence,” this lack of representation throws into relief those images of Judaism
that are present in film, demanding investigation of the reasons for their inclusion
and appeal.
 Judaism | 265

Films with biblical themes provide some of the earliest, most widely consumed
images of Jewish religion. Biblical films are significant because of their enduring
popularity and because their images of Judaism are, within the conventions of the
genre, presented as authoritative. Pre-1960, these images were generally cursory
and disapproving, providing negative foils for Christianity. Often referenced as
an illustration of D. W. Griffith’s progressive politics, Intolerance (1916) depicts
ostentatious prayers by tallit- and tefillin- (prayer shawl and phylactery) wearing
Pharisees who thank God that they are better than other men, in a scene that melds
the New Testament (Matt. 6:5) and a distortion of birkhot hashachar (blessings
traditionally recited by Jewish men each morning). Moreover, Intolerance pres-
ents itself as a credible guide to Judaism, when intertitles in a scene depicting the
marriage at Cana announce dependence on biblical scholarship and instruct view-
ers that the consumption of wine, and its offering to God, is “an important part”
of the Jewish religion. In this respect, Intolerance epitomizes a genre that tends to
downplay both historical change and diversity within Judaism.
Contemporaneous with Griffith’s work and the growth of Hollywood was the
rapid development of another transnational industry: Yiddish cinema. Often secu-
lar in orientation, depicting the shtetl (“little town”—the name for a small Jewish
settlement in central eastern Europe) as stiflingly primitive and advocating a move
away from tradition, it nevertheless drew on novels and plays steeped in Judaism,
especially Hasidism (a mysticism infused movement, dominant in Europe in the
late 18th and early 19th centuries). Like the satirical plays traditionally associated
with Purim (a festival commemorating events described in the Book of Esther),
Yiddish films juxtapose dance and song with pietistic, symbolic scenes. The best
known example is Der Dibuk (The Dybbuk, 1937), a film inspired by the writ-
ings of ethnographer S. Ansky, who documented shtetl life in 1912–1914. In this
film, two friends who are making their annual visit to their tzaddik (charismatic
religious leader within Hasidic Judaism) betroth their unborn children. Years later,
the children meet when one (Khonnon) travels to the town where the other (Leah)
lives. Drawn irresistibly to Leah, Khonnon experiments with kabbalah (Judaism’s
mystical tradition) in order to win her. He dies—historically, Judaism regarded
kabbalah study as dangerous, suitable only for men of mature age and character—
and his dybbuk (spirit) possesses Leah. Leah’s family take her to the tzaddik for
exorcism, but, shockingly, she prefers to die with Khonnon inside her rather than
live alone. The film’s handling of Hasidism is sympathetic but not uncritical. Leah
and Khonnon fall in love over a Sabbath meal. Before the exorcism, the tzaddik
offers a psak din (judgment on a question of religious law, or halakhah) on the
betrothal made by the two fathers. There are many hints at the spiritual core under-
pinning observant Orthodoxy. Simultaneously, shtetl culture appears unfavorably
in scenes accentuating the divisions between rich and poor. In the film’s closing
266 | Judaism

moments, the figure of the ailing tzaddik—wearied by his followers’ problems and
lacking the powers of his predecessors—suggests an embattled, declining tradi-
tion, perhaps the perceptions of more assimilated Jews like Ansky and director
Michal Waszynski.
Yiddish cinema was largely destroyed by the Holocaust. This near genocide
of European Jewry inevitably signaled a shift in images of Jews. Other factors,
including the rise of multiculturalism (which meant that filmmakers no longer felt
the need to shy away from portraying Jewish life) and the general impetus toward
self-examination and self-consciousness (triggered in the United States by events
like the King and Kennedy assassinations), have also had an impact on screen
representation of Judaism.
Several postwar biblical films are notable for their attempts to avoid earlier
pitfalls. Jesus of Nazareth (1977) was partly motivated by the desire to show its
protagonist as a faithful Jew, in keeping with post-Holocaust reassessments of
Catholic teachings on Judaism. Jesus’ circumcision and bar mitzvah (rite marking
the attainment of religious majority) are depicted, as is the betrothal and marriage
of Joseph and Mary according to halakhah. Recitation of the shema (the oldest
fixed daily prayer in Judaism) punctuates the action. Nevertheless, director Zef-
firelli’s wish to show Jesus’ message as both a continuation and a fulfillment of
Judaism leads to tensions, and the anachronistic projection of later rituals (the bar
mitzvah scene, for example, owes much to ceremonies that developed in Germany
as late as the 15th century) constructs a Judaism that is at best ahistorical and at
worst a living fossil.
The Holocaust is itself the subject of many films, but religious questions
prompted by events are rarely to the fore. Films like The Quarrel (1991), in which
two survivors—one secular, the other Orthodox—debate issues of theodicy and
survivor guilt in a Montreal park on Rosh Hashanah (Jewish new year, the be-
ginning of a period of self-reflection and repentance) are rare. More commonly,
rituals and imagery function as cursory devices to establish a character’s Jew-
ish identity. In Europa, Europa (1990), Solomon Perel’s circumcised penis (the
consequence of the rite commemorating God’s covenant with Abraham and his
descendants) is the persistent factor reminding him (and audiences) of his Jew-
ishness when he poses as first a Communist and later as a Fascist in his quest
for survival. Schindler’s List (1993)—the most significant Holocaust film of the
1990s—opens with the inauguration of the Sabbath, signaled by the lighting of
candles and making of kiddush over wine. Toward the film’s end, the now freed
laborers in Schindler’s factory again light Sabbath candles. In this and numerous
other films, such images of comparatively well-known practices function as brief
“Jewish moments” enacted by characters of otherwise indeterminate origin and
allegiance.
 Judaism | 267

If few Holocaust films feature characters living Judaism-filled lives, even fewer
capture the diversity of modern European Jewry. Unusually, Left Luggage (1998)
juxtaposes a dysfunctional family headed by secular survivors and a Hasidic fam-
ily, the Kalmans. The Kalmans are also traumatized by the father’s survivor guilt
(as a child, he watched as his father and brother were hanged in a concentration
camp for refusing to curse the Torah), but the film suggests that religious ob-
servance functions positively, providing a sense of continuity and meaning amid
anomie and despair.
Although both the possibility and the morality of representing genocide on
the screen are questionable, only a small minority of Jews interpret Exodus 20:4
as prohibiting any reproduction of human images. The absence of Judaism from
Holocaust films therefore requires explanation. It may be prompted by the need
to appeal to a predominantly non-Jewish audience or by a conviction that Jews
are defined not by intrinsic differences but by their identification as such by anti-
Semites. Thus in the Academy Award–winning Gentleman’s Agreement (1947),
over which the Holocaust casts a lengthy if ill-defined shadow, the protagonist is
a Presbyterian journalist (Phil) who poses as Jewish in order to investigate anti-
Semitism. Narrative and dialogue assume a non-Jewish audience for whom Phil
(the non-Jewish Jew) mediates the experience of the Jewish “other.” Identity is
a garment one can change at will, and Judaism receives scant treatment when
Phil describes it to his son as just another kind of “church.” Similarly sugges-
tive absences characterize recent Academy Award winners with Holocaust themes,
including La Vita é bella (Life is Beautiful, 1997), The Pianist (2002), and Nir-
gendwo in Afrika (Nowhere in Africa, 2001).
Judaism is more prominently represented in two categories of films popular
since the 1980s—those depicting romance between Jews and non-Jews and those
set in locations that are commonly regarded as quintessentially Jewish, like New
York’s Lower East Side.
Romance between a religious Jew and a Christian was a common motif in
the early cinema. In The Jazz Singer (1927), secular stardom and marriage to a
Christian are the prizes awaiting Jake Rabinowitz, son of a cantor (a community
official who leads synagogue services) when, on the eve of Yom Kippur (the Day
of Atonement, or high point of the Jewish year) he abandons Judaism. Judaism
functions here as an example of the ties one must abandon in order to join the
American mainstream. Partly because of The Jazz Singer’s status as the first real
“talkie,” subsequent depictions of Jewish/non-Jewish romance are either elabora-
tions of or responses to its approach. Suzie Gold (2004) is notable for its attention
to rituals surrounding marriage and death and its setting in north London (the most
significant area of Jewish population in Britain). But it is essentially a variation
on the older theme: Jewish life is depicted as shallow and brash (Suzie’s Jewish
268 | Judaism

suitor asks her for a date during shiva—the seven-day period of mourning follow-
ing a relative’s burial); viewers are encouraged to prefer, like Suzie, Darren, her
non-Jewish boyfriend. Keeping the Faith (2000) both acknowledges and subverts
established trends. Its protagonist, too, is a Jake whose moment of decision is Yom
Kippur. However, Keeping the Faith’s Jake is a rabbi, positively depicted as a lov-
ing son, friend, and charismatic speaker. The film is generally in keeping with the
advocacy of individual happiness and integrity over communal expectation and
habit. But when Jake declares his love for non-Jewish Anna, it is she who converts
to Judaism at the film’s close, not vice versa.
Although Suzie Gold and Keeping the Faith represent mainline Juda-
ism (modern Orthodoxy and Conservative Judaism respectively), filmmakers
seem increasingly interested in depicting Haredi (carefully observant/“ultra-
Orthodox”) Judaism, especially its largest subgrouping, Hasidism. The attrac-
tiveness of Hasidism for filmmakers is readily explained. Nostalgia is a factor.
Not all nostalgic films represent Judaism positively, however—witness Woody
Allen’s Radio Days (1987), with its strict disciplinarian rabbi and a family who
observe Yom Kippur but lack understanding of religion. Thus the appeal of
Hester Street (1975), which charts processes of acculturation and assimilation
in fin de siècle New York, lies partly in its recreation of a moment in Ameri-
can Jewish history and partly in its accentuation of more universal values. On
the one hand, the film painfully depicts Gitl’s trauma when her husband (Jake)
demands that she abandon her wig and scarf (which she wears because of the
halakhic requirement that a married woman cover her head). On the other hand,
broader American notions of liberation and newness, and of economic advance-
ment and opportunity, are to the fore when, as a condition of agreeing to receive
a get (bill of religious divorce) from Jake, Gitl secures sufficient funds to open
a business and remarry.
The success of Peter Weir’s Witness (1985), in which a policeman goes un-
dercover in an Amish community, has provided further impetus. Like the Amish,
Hasidic Jews provide filmmakers with a highly visible, linguistically and phil-
osophically distinctive community. In Sidney Lumet’s A Stranger Among Us
(1992), plot is secondary; policewoman Emily’s need to go undercover in order
to investigate a murder functions as a device (like Phil’s project in Gentleman’s
Agreement) for the mediation of Hasidic belief and practice. The film captures
the rhythm of life centered on prayer and Torah study and structured by regu-
lations governing food preparation and sexual modesty. Not all images of Ha-
sidic Jews are positive, however. A group using Hebrew numerology or gematria
(converting words into numbers by assigning each letter a numerical value) to
search for the divine name (the pronunciation of which was largely proscribed
in ancient Judaism, and was subsequently lost) is among the range of sinister
 Judaism | 269

figures encountered by mathematician Max Cohen in π (Pi, 1998). Menachem,

the hero of the Israeli film Ha-Hesder (Time of Favor, 2000), is a participant in
the Hesder Yeshiva program (which allows men to combine Torah studies with
military service), but it suggests that religion poses a threat to modern Israel’s
largely secular values when one of Menachem’s fellow settlers, inspired by the
teachings of their rebbe, plots to bomb the Dome of the Rock. Judaism also fares
badly in several films where gender concerns are uppermost. Whereas A Stranger
Among Us offers some nuance in its representation of Jewish women (Leah is
quiet and gracious; Shayna decisive and intellectual), in A Price Above Rubies
(1998), which takes its name from Proverbs 31 (a text traditionally recited by
husbands to wives on the Sabbath eve), Judaism appears as a patriarchal soci-
ety, oppressive of women. Sonia’s passions (sexual; spiritual) increasingly dis-
tance her from the Hasidic community. Kadosh (meaning “sacred”; 1999) offers
a negative portrayal of life in Mea Shearim, Jerusalem’s haredi (ultra-Orthodox)
quarter. Loving couple Meir and Rivka are ordered by their rebbe to divorce so
that Meir may remarry and fulfil the commandment to procreate (Gen. 1:28).
Malka, Rivka’s sister, is caught up in a violent arranged marriage. As in A Price
Above Rubies, rituals surrounding food and the mikveh (ritual bath, visited by
carefully observant women after each menstrual period) appear as elements of a
claustrophobic, sterile culture.
Screen representations of Judaism are, then, many and diverse, but they also
display a number of tendencies. They may be intended to serve as negative com-
parators for images of another religious or ethnic culture. Alternatively, they may
function as a sort of visual shorthand to establish the identity of a character or to
add “exoticism” to a plot’s setting. The representation of Judaism is scarcely ever
the primary motivation behind film production. However, if Judaism often seems
to be of little import to the film industry, this does not mean that film is of little
consequence to Judaism. In the television comedy The Hebrew Hammer (2003),
the eponymous hero distributes videocassettes of Yentl (1983) and Fiddler on the
Roof (1971) to Jewish children who are attracted by Christmas holiday celebra-
tions. The scene’s point is humorous, but its linking of film with Jewish continuity
gestures toward bigger issues. The images discussed in this article are all part of
what Judaism “is” for many Jews as well as non-Jews. Although the cinema is a
vehicle of fantasy (one that allowed many early filmmakers to bury—and many
later filmmakers to recreate—their Jewish roots), it also affords moments of Jew-
ish community, intimacy, memory, and transcendence.
Melanie J. Wright
See also: Allen, Woody; Bible Films; Brooks, Mel; Holocaust, The; Jesus;
Mamet, David.
270 | Judaism

Further Reading
Bartov, Omer. The “Jew” in Cinema: From The Golem to Don’t Touch My Holocaust.
Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2005.
Erens, Patricia. The Jew in American Cinema. Bloomington: Indiana University Press,
1984.
Friedman, Lester D. The Jewish Image in American Film: 70 Years of Hollywood’s Vision
of Jewish Characters and Themes. Secaucus, NJ: Citadel Press, 1987.
Gabler, Neal. An Empire of Their Own: How the Jews Invented Hollywood. New York:
Anchor, 1989.
Gertel, Elliot B. Over the Top Judaism: Precedents and Trends in the Depiction of Jew-
ish Beliefs and Observances in Film and Television. Lanham, MD: University Press of
America, 2003.
Hoberman, Jim, and Jeffrey Shandler: Entertaining America: Jews, Movies, and Broad-
casting. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2003.
Paskin, Sylvia, ed. When Joseph Met Molly: A Reader on Yiddish Film. Nottingham, UK:
Five Leaves Publications (in association with the European Jewish Publication Soci-
ety), 1999.
Samberg, Joel. Reel Jewish: A Century of Jewish Movies. Middle Village, NY: Jonathan
David Publishers, 2000.
K

Kieślowski, Krzysztof (1941–1996)

Krzysztof Kieślowski is one of eastern Europe’s most important filmmakers.

His professional work, which gradually shifted from documentaries to intro-
spective fictional narratives, is European art cinema in its ideal form, suggestive
and abstract without approaching obscurantism. Kieślowski’s films are not explic-
itly religious or strewn with overt religious symbolism; but as his subject matter
grew increasingly interior, even spiritual, the religious undercurrents of his cinema
were brought into clearer focus. His mature work invites religious reflection, as
his recurrent themes—communion,
human relationships, life and death,
coincidence and providence, love,
longing, revelation—share much
in common with the themes of
religion.
To fully appreciate Kieślowski’s
unique vision, one must place it in
the context of recent Polish history.
Kieślowski was born in Warsaw
on June 27, 1941, two years after
Poland had been invaded by Ger-
many and the Soviet Union. After
the war, with the Polish population
diminished by millions, Poland
fell entirely under Stalin’s control;
even after Stalin’s death in 1953, Po-
land remained a Communist Soviet-
bloc nation. The rise of Solidarity, Polish director Krzysztof Kieślowski, 1994. AP
the oppositionist movement in the Photo/Michel Lipchitz.

271
272 | Kieślowski, Krzysztof

late 1970s, led to the institution of martial law between 1981 and 1983. Although
it was certainly no overnight success story, Poland became a democracy in 1989
but still faced several transitional years of political and economic unrest, which
finally began to moderate in the years following Kieślowski’s death.
Kieślowski’s life was shaped by two inescapable influences: his identity as
a Pole and his identity as a Catholic. It is significant to note that prior to World
War II, Poland was Catholic by a modest majority; but after the war, nearly all of
the remaining population was Catholic. This national and religious identity gave
the Polish people a sense of unity, which was heightened in 1978, when Polish
Cardinal Karol Wojtyla was elevated to the papacy as Pope John Paul II. However,
Kieślowski always maintained an uneasy relationship with both his religion and
his nationality while still regarding both as an undeniable part of his character. For
Kieślowski, being Polish was synonymous with being Catholic.
Kieślowski’s childhood is paradigmatic of the national condition. His early
years were unsettled by his father’s itinerant visits to tuberculosis sanatoria through-
out the country, each one involving the relocation of the entire family. Further,
Kieślowski’s parents feared that he was a weak, sickly child, possibly prone to
the same debilitating condition as his father. As is often recounted, when he was
not at school or in the hospital, his boyhood was spent reading and climbing to the
roof of a local cinema, where he and his friends could glimpse only a fraction of
the movie screen through the openings in a ventilation unit (and also spit on those
inside the theater who were privileged with the means to gain admission).
His father finally lost his battle with tuberculosis, dying when Kieślowski
was still a student. His mother died in an automobile accident in 1981. These
two deaths reappear in various ways in his films. It has even been suggested that
Kieślowski prefigures his own death at least once in his films, in La double vie de
Véronique (The Double Life of Véronique, 1991), which depicts two women of dif-
ferent nationalities leading startlingly similar lives: like Kieślowski, both charac-
ters suffer from weak hearts, a fact that only one discovers soon enough to prevent
tragedy, while the other gives her life for her art (in her case, singing). At age 54
and at the height of his international acclaim (and many would say the height of
his artistic ability), Krzysztof Kieślowski died after suffering a second heart attack
on March 13, 1996, just two days after undergoing bypass surgery.
Oddly enough, Kieślowski professed no aspirations of working in cinema
and claimed that his career in filmmaking was largely an accident. Around the
time he was accepted to film school, he was most interested in avoiding the com-
pulsory military service expected of every young man of his generation, which
he did by convincing the authorities that he was schizophrenic and thus being
declared unfit for service. Relieved of this burden, he trained at the College for
 Kieślowski, Krzysztof | 273

Theatre Technicians in Warsaw, and from 1964 to 1968 studied directing at the
famous Lodz Film School, which had produced his predecessors of the “Polish
school” (such as Andrzej Wadja, Jerzy Kawalerowicz, and Andrzej Munk). Here
Kieślowski first became acquainted with those colleagues who would come to
be known collectively as the “cinema of moral anxiety” (alternately translated
by some members as “distrust” or “concern”), a movement of like-minded film-
makers of Kieślowski’s generation spanning roughly from the mid-1970s to the
early 1980s, including Janusz Kijowski, who coined the term, as well as Krzysztof
Zanussi, Agnieszka Holland, Edek Żebrowski, and Andrzej Wadja, who would
serve as a mentor figure for Kieślowski.
During and immediately following his training at Lodz, Kieślowski focused
primarily on documentary films depicting the everyday lives of ordinary Poles.
As a young filmmaker, he believed that it was the unique ability of cinema to
authentically capture day-to-day existence; but he later abandoned this idealism
and accepted the camera’s role as a mediator of reality, as that which shapes and
manipulates rather than merely observes. He learned to embrace this vision, ex-
ploring and attempting to portray those aspects of human experience which are
ineffable. According to Kieślowski, if the gaze of the documentary filmmaker is
directed out toward the world, recording things “as they really are,” his move away
from documentary was related to a decisive gaze inward, into the enigmatic realm
of the spiritual and emotional.
Kieślowski was never quite comfortable with his association with the cinema
of moral anxiety, and his films were set apart by their ambivalent or ambigu-
ous attitude toward the protagonist and his (or her) actions. His characters often
face moral or ethical dilemmas, but it is difficult to judge the motivation or virtue
behind their actions. In cinematic fictions, he explores the relational, emotional,
spiritual, and—to a lesser though always-present degree—political quandaries
that plague contemporary life.
Kieślowski despised being labeled a moralist (or worse, a moralizer), but he
was quite happy with the title “metaphysician,” an apt description of his mature
work, which is acutely aware of the spiritual realm insofar as the spiritual has
as much to do with relationships between persons as with one’s relationship to
God or the supernatural. His films are preoccupied with the relationship between
chance, the necessary by-product of free will, and providence (that is, fate or des-
tiny), the necessary by-product of belief in a sovereign God. Kieślowski struggled
with his conception of God, no doubt invoked by the disparity between the mys-
terious and mystical faith given him by Catholicism and the bleak reality of his
surrounding world. Contrary to critics who characterize him as an atheist or ag-
nostic, Kieślowski confessed his belief in the existence of “an absolute point of
274 | Kieślowski, Krzysztof

reference” or “authority,” but he had difficultly reconciling the “demanding, cruel”

God of the Old Testament and the “merciful, kind-hearted” God of the New. He
maintained a degree of distrust of therapists, politicians, priests, and teachers, be-
cause of their claims to be able to show people how to live their lives. Kieślowski
was not an atheist but a believer, one with a profound faith in faith, the certainty of
things unseen, certainty about the essentially uncertain.
Kieślowski’s tumultuous relationship with his national and religious identity
may stem in part from the criticism he received throughout his career. Despite
the decidedly apolitical (or at least politically neutral) perspective of his films, all
sides of Poland’s political struggles considered him noncompliant with their agen-
das. The state authorities (who funded his films and on several occasions delayed
or prevented their release) were displeased with his sympathy toward the opposi-
tion in both Przypadek (Blind Chance, 1987) and Bez Końca (No End, 1985), and
Solidarity was consistently disappointed with his bleak and rather defeatist depic-
tion of the national situation, desiring instead a univocal statement in their favor.
Additionally, the Catholic Church was often dissatisfied with what they perceived
as gratuitous eroticism and moral relativism in both of the films mentioned previ-
ously, especially regarding Urszula’s suicide in Bez Końca.
Kieślowski’s work remained relatively unknown outside eastern Europe be-
fore the completion of Dekalog (1989), now considered his masterpiece. First
conceived by his cowriter Krzysztof Piesiewicz, Dekalog is a series of ten short
films based loosely on the Ten Commandments. The episodes depict the dilem-
mas and decisions of characters all living in the same Warsaw housing block.
Although the connections are hardly explicit, the series as a whole might be
considered a meditation on the Ten Commandments or a reflection on certain
fundamental human values, such as life, love, family, and trust, which persist in
contemporary (that is, increasingly secular) society despite the seeming with-
drawal of God. Two episodes, Dekalog “V” and “VI,” were extended and re-
named Krótki film o zabijaniu (A Short Film About Killing, 1988) and Krótki
film o mił ości (A Short Film About Love, 1988), respectively. These two films
¯
were given theatrical release independent of the series and were heralded by
critics and audiences. In the winter of 1988–1989, the completed Dekalog se-
ries aired on Polish television and was met immediately with much acclaim, a
boost to the filmmaker’s reputation after the ambivalent responses to his previ-
ous features.
Following Dekalog, Kieślowski’s career took a markedly different stylistic
direction while maintaining the centrality of his distinctive themes of transcen-
dence, destiny, and human interdependence. Maintaining much of his collaborative
team, he left his native Poland for France. Following La double vie de Véronique,
Kieślowski embarked on his final project, considered by some a masterpiece to rival
 Kieślowski, Krzysztof | 275

Dekalog: a three-film cycle based around the colors and themes (liberty, equality,
and fraternity) represented in the French flag—Trois couleurs: Bleu (Three Col-
ors: Blue, 1993), Trois couleurs: Rouge (Three Colors: Red, 1994), Trzy kolory:
Bialy (Three Colors: White, 1994), which might be considered a reflection on the
nature of grace and providence. As with his previous film cycle, Kieślowski em-
ployed different cameramen for each film (all three of whom had worked on Deka-
log), and the thematic unity of the three films is cloaked in typical Kieślowskian
ambiguity.
Despite announcing his retirement in 1994, Kieslowski continued to collabo-
rate with Piesiewicz on scripts, and what is known of these twilight endeavors
confirms that, had he lived longer, Kieslowski would have continued to gravitate
toward themes of a religious or spiritual nature. At the time of his death in 1996, the
two were working on screenplays for a new trilogy tentatively titled Heaven, Hell,
and Purgatory. Only the script for Heaven was completed prior to Kieślowski’s
death, and Piesiewicz finished the screenplay for L’Enfer (Hell, 2005). The future
of the final film, for which Kieślowski produced only a basic plot outline, remains
uncertain. Heaven (2002) was brought to the screen by German director Tom Tyk-
wer, yet it does not achieve the subtle brilliance that characterizes Kieślowski’s
work. Still, the film attests to Kieślowski’s unwavering commitment to a body
of work centered around metaphysical, spiritual, and religious themes, which he
consistently expressed with eloquence, singularity of vision, and a spirit of com-
passion for humankind.
Brannon Hancock
See also: Belief; Europe (Continental).

Further Reading
Coates, Paul, ed. Lucid Dreams: The Films of Krzysztof Kieślowski. Wiltshire, UK: Flick
Books, 1999.
Garbowski, Christopher. Krzysztof Kieślowski’s Decalogue Series: The Problem of the
Protagonists and Their Self-Transcendance [sic]. New York: Columbia University
Press, 1996.
Haltof, Marek. The Cinema of Krzysztof Kieślowski: Variations on Destiny and Chance.
London: Wallflower Press, 2004.
Perlmutter, Ruth. “Testament of the Father: Kieslowski’s The Decalogue.” Film Criticism
22, no. 2 (1997): 51–65.
Wilson, Emma. Memory and Survival: The French Cinema of Krzysztof Kieślowski.
Oxford, UK: Legenda, 2000.
Žižek, Slavoj. The Fright of Real Tears: Krzysztof Kieślowski Between Theory and Post-
Theory. London: British Film Institute, 2001.
276 | Kubrick, Stanley

Kubrick, Stanley (1928–1999)

Part of the significance of Stanley Kubrick’s impact as a director was that he im-
mersed himself in the world of words as well as vision. He began his adult career
as a photographer before moving to film but was always deeply interested in nar-
rative. Born on July 26, 1928, in New York City, he remains one of the most talked
about film directors of the past century. His work was highly regarded by his peers:
he received four Academy Award nominations for directing, five for screenplays,
and another two for “Best Picture,” but he was associated with only one film actu-
ally to win an Academy Award: 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), for special effects.
In 1999, Kubrick began shooting Eyes Wide Shut, based on the Frederic Raphael
novel, marking his return to filmmaking after a decade of cinematic silence. It
would be his last film; he died on March 7, 1999, after submitting the final cut of
the film, which was released posthumously to mixed reviews.
One aspect not fully addressed by scholars is Kubrick’s deep concern with
the religious aspects of life. When 2001 premiered at the Vatican, he called it an
agnostic prayer that could serve as the organizing impetus for his filmic oeuvre.
While not making any overtly dogmatic pronouncements, Kubrick provides ample
evidence in his work as a director of being one who invokes an experience of the
numinous and the predestined. It is a mystical experience, an ecstasy at the end of
things, that continually threatens to consume or immerse the subjects of his films
and ultimately draws us as viewers into this experience of the holy as well.
To read Kubrick’s films is to partake of works that display a profound discon-
tent with the state of modern humanity, a feeling akin to the fervor of an evangelist
calling for an encounter with something more, something larger, and ultimately
something transcendent. As a filmmaker Kubrick is known as much for his com-
mand of cinematic form as for the controversial content of many of his films. This
is exemplified as early as his 1962 film, Lolita, based on Vladimir Nabokov’s
controversial 1955 novella. Filmed directly after the completion of Spartacus
(1960), Lolita was shot in long master shots, sometimes up to 10 minutes per take.
Kubrick was able to bring out the essence of the story’s deep themes of ethical
transgression by using cinema as a trope for voyeurism into spiritual and moral de-
cline. What we notice in Kubrick’s command of the camera is the way he not only
shows us the images on the screen but also communicates in no uncertain terms
that he knows what we are watching and, more importantly, why we are watching
and what we are truly looking for in our viewing. In short, the cinema becomes a
confessional par excellence where the moviegoer is the confessor; we are being
watched as we watch.
One aspect of Lolita’s power is the illusion of looking in on a private world,
the ordinary magnified to the scale of spectacle, from our vantage of security and
 Kubrick, Stanley | 277

anonymity. In a representative scene, Kubrick draws the viewer into the tempta-
tion of the protagonist Humbert Humbert as he gazes upon young Lolita while in
the company of her mother, Charlotte. As the viewer is drawn to look upon Lolita
Haze—whose surname evokes the dreamlike quality of Nabokov’s character, well
framed by Kubrick—swirling with her hula hoop, we are brought to account for
our “viewing” by the burst of the flash from Charlotte’s camera. The dream/temp-
tation bursts apart with a burst of light that breaks the clouds or “haze” away. Cin-
ematically, we have been caught in the act of “looking.” A whole body of critical
literature has developed out of this argument concerning cinema’s manipulation of
the gaze and how it reflects our deep psychological obsessions and the society that
produces them. Throughout this film of temptation, Kubrick continues slowly to
allow the approach of Lolita and Humbert, but as in the classic tale of Tristan and
Isolde, they are continually pushed back, leaving desire rather than consummation
as the mark of the human dilemma.
Kubrick’s films were manifestations of the search for what theologian Paul
Tillich called “this infinite and inexhaustible depth and ground of all being,”
calling moviegoers to account as to that which they seek and desire. By acknowl-
edging that moviegoers are both readers and watchers, Kubrick was a true theolo-
gian in exposing them to their own desire for the transcendent amid the decadence
filling the screen. One need only look to Kubrick’s work in A Clockwork Orange
(1971) for multiple instances in which he exposes the nature of desire as both a
key to our downfall and a mark of the divine spark in all of us.
In his 1980 retelling of Stephen King’s 1977 horror classic The Shining, Ku-
brick again uses the camera to take the viewer “along for the ride,” engaging in
what French cultural theorist Jacques Lacan called le regard, or the director’s cin-
ematic control of the viewer’s gaze with interpretational precision. With every
purposeful selection of camera angle, every jump cut between scenes, and every
nuance of lighting and blocking (choreographing the movement of the actors),
film directors control the viewer’s perception of what is real. With Kubrick, this
control of the gaze sustains a deeply theological foundation as well. For example,
in The Shining, Kubrick introduced the Steadicam, which at the time was revolu-
tionary in allowing the director to forego typical dolly apparatuses and tracking
cameras. Prior to this new camera’s adoption, film production would produce sets
around bulky camera tracks and dollies; with the Steadicam, it became possible to
“free” the camera and move within scenes as fluidly as a person would. The abil-
ity to control the viewers’ gaze was thus profoundly shifted; filmmakers no longer
needed to begin with a set and then construct the right shots by adjusting the cam-
era technology. Rather, they could begin with the foundation of how things are to
be seen—the angle of the shot first—and then build their vision around that. In
The Shining, for example, Kubrick could employ natural lighting—something he
278 | Kubrick, Stanley

had used to great effect in his 1975 production of Barry Lyndon—for the interior
scenes of the Overlook Hotel, itself a central protagonist in the film.
In Kubrick’s universe, seen especially in The Shining and 2001, the camera
angles acheived with the Steadicam give the viewer a steady view of fear: the anxi-
ety of not being able to “see” what is about to come around the next corner. This
reminds the audience that in addition to desire, they must acknowledge the nature
of fear; unlimited space does not solve this but in many ways makes us realize how
little we do “know” and apprehend. What Kubrick proposes through his use of in-
finite space is that freedom is not found in a lack of boundaries. Ironically, it is the
seemingly infinite space that is both physically and psychologically imprisoning
for the hotel occupants of The Shining and the space travelers of 2001.
In many of Kubrick’s films, human identity is theologically framed as both a
seeking after something transcendent just beyond one’s grasp—the unapproach-
able and forbidden lust of Lolita, the vast endless universe of 2001, and, with
the possibility of crucifixion in Spartacus (1960), the life beyond martyrdom as
legions of slaves cry “I’m Spartacus!”—and an exploration of the labyrinthine
inner life, where the sacred and profane find a nexus point. In The Shining, the
Overlook Hotel as a haunted and therefore living thing is an anthropomorphized
example of the human search for meaning, with doors upon doors constantly being
opened but leading only into ever larger spaces. In a converse yet similar manner,
Kubrick’s war epic Full Metal Jacket (1987)—which followed The Shining by
seven years—encloses the protagonists on their last night of boot camp on Parris
Island in a claustrophobic scene in the barracks bathroom, bringing the search for
meaning inward and deathly close. In a scene reminiscent of the famed “Here’s
Johnny” bathroom scene of The Shining, Private Pyle recalls both the insanity of
The Shining’s vastness of space and yet the inner claustrophobia of the human
condition. When asked by Private Joker what he is doing in the cloistered rest-
room, Pyle evokes the name of God from Exodus 3:14, uttering a sinister “I am”
prior to killing the drill sergeant and himself. Whether in the vastness of space or
the interior labyrinth of human longing, despair, and wonder, Kubrick continues
to find something of the sacred amid the profane. This is not the Interior Castle of
St. Theresa of Avila, where, through the many rooms and water wheels, one finds
the unifying embrace of God. More akin to finding the Minotaur or the curse of
Narcissus, Kubrick’s films suggest an amorality where perhaps the greatest fear is
that we are truly isolated—that around each corner is another corner and another
hallway, and we have been “abandoned” to our fears.
With God displaced, the weak and conflicted self moves to the center, but often
alone. Whether with the grizzled and wild-eyed Jack Torrance in The Shining, the
suicidal Private Pyle in Full Metal Jacket, or the drifting astronaut David Bow-
man in 2001, Kubrick’s protagonists are often men at a loss in a world without the
 Kurosawa, Akira | 279

divine. They are set adrift, often slowly slipping into insanity as they strive to see
the face of God yet only see their own horrified reflections framed in the screen,
filling most of the view.
Jeff Keuss
See also: Dogme 95; Mysticism.

Further Reading
Chion, Michel. Kubrick’s Cinema Odyssey. London: British Film Institute, 2001.
Kolker, Robert. A Cinema of Loneliness: Penn, Stone, Kubrick, Scorsese, Spielberg, Alt-
man, 3rd ed. New York: Oxford University Press, 2000.
Mainar, Luis Garcia. Narrative and Stylistic Patterns in the Films of Stanley Kubrick. Lon-
don: Camden House, 1999.
Nelson, Thomas Allen. Kubrick: Inside a Film Artist’s Maze. Bloomington: Indiana Uni-
versity Press, 1982.
Smith, Jeff. “Careening Through Kubrick’s Space.” Chicago Review 33, no. 1 (1981): 62–73.

Kurosawa, Akira (1910–1998)

Akira Kurosawa is without question Japan’s most famous filmmaker and among
the dozen most influential directors in film history. Over a 50-year period—from
the release of Sugata Sanshirô (1943) to that of Madadayo (1993)—Kurosawa
produced 30 films, 8 to 10 of which are considered to be masterpieces.
One of the most remarkable works of world cinema, Kurosawa’s Rashô-
mon (1950) was adapted from two short stories by the early-20th-century writer
Ryūnosuke Akutagawa (1892–1927). Famously, the film tells a tale—of the rape of
a woman and the murder of a samurai—from four different perspectives, thereby
deconstructing the viewer’s sense of truth and fact. The most overtly philosophi-
cal of Kurosawa’s major works, Rashômon sets in motion the director’s unique
brand of skeptical humanism. Four characters provide conflicting reports of the
events—a nameless woodcutter, a bandit, the samurai’s wife, and even, via a miko
(medium), the murdered samurai—while a Buddhist priest and a commoner re-
spectively narrate and provide commentary on the various stories.
Given the whirlwind mix of sex, death, power, honor, punishment, guilt, and
shame, it is hardly surprising that each of the characters has something to lose from a
purely factual recounting of the events. Who killed whom? Was the death an honor-
able suicide, the result of a heroic (or comic) duel, or a shameful defeat by the sword
of a dirty bandit? Was the woman raped or did she willingly go with the bandit,
280 | Kurosawa, Akira

casting off her husband? Kurosawa,

here as in his later samurai films,
turns a critical though not wholly
dismissive eye toward values such
as loyalty and honor, which seem so
often to be swallowed up by our very
worst tendencies: greed, pride, mal-
ice. It is not so much that each of the
Rashômon characters is engaged in
outright falsehood but that they may
be deceiving themselves most of all,
caught up in their respective webs of
self-justifying illusions. This, if any-
thing, is their sin—the inability or
unwillingness to see through the il-
lusions that ground their very identi-
ties as consistent and unchangeable
“selves.” Interpreted this way, Rashô-
mon takes on a distinctively Buddhist
Japanese director Akira Kurosawa at the Cannes flavor. From a Buddhist perspective,
International Film Festival, 1980. AP Photo/Levy.
the moral failure of the characters
can be attributed in large part to their
egos, which bind them to an illusory world—one that is ultimately as harmful to
themselves as to those around them.
At the end of the film, the humble priest is clearly shaken by learning of the evil
ways of all those involved—including the woodcutter, who eventually confesses
to witnessing the crime and afterwards stealing the woman’s valuable dagger. The
final scene—added by Kurosawa to the original story—restores the priest’s faith
in humanity, as the woodcutter repents of his sins and offers to raise an abandoned
baby discovered by the interlocutors.
Inspired by Leo Tolstoy’s 1886 novella The Death of Ivan Ilyich, Ikiru (1952;
literally “to live”) is a powerful meditation on the meaning of one man’s actions
amid the seeming absurdity of life. Trapped in a dead-end job and surrounded by
a selfish and loveless family, Kanji Watanabe discovers that he has six months
left to live. This sets up a classic and universal dilemma: how should he spend his
last days on earth, knowing that the end is imminent? Watanabe’s attempts at live
the life of pleasure are soon abandoned—la dolce vita strikes him as hollow and
frivolous. Inspired by an encounter with a vivacious young coworker who finds
meaning in her job as a toy maker, Watanabe makes it the goal of his remaining
 Kurosawa, Akira | 281

time to transform a filthy neighborhood area into a children’s playground. Despite

encountering frustrating setbacks from the local bureaucracy, his persistence pays
off and the old man dies in peace. At his wake, his drunken coworkers vow to
change their own lives, but the sober light of dawn finds them immersed in the
same routines as the day before.
Although some critics have read Ikiru as a Christian allegory of sacrifice (Wa-
tanabe as the “suffering servant”)—which is plausible given the Tolstoyan roots of
the story—upon closer inspection the “spiritual” themes of Ikiru do not fit so eas-
ily into Christian understanding. For one, there is little to indicate that Watanabe
acquires any sort of faith in a higher power. Watanabe’s enlightenment can be best
interpreted from a Buddhist perspective as a sudden but dramatic recognition of
the reality of change and the consequent acceptance of death. Despite some read-
ings of the director’s work, of Ikiru and others, Kurosawa is not interested in posit-
ing a (western) heroic individualism against the confining structures of (Japanese)
society and family. Rather, he contrasts the possibility of an open and dynamic
“self ” based on compassion for others, with the closed and ultimately illusory
“self ” ostensibly bound to social codes but in fact rooted in human weaknesses
such as greed, anger, and delusion.
Finally, it is worth noting that the young lady who provides inspiration for
Watanabe is, for all her boundless energy, a rather ordinary person. When asked
about her life, she responds that she simply “works and eats”—a line reflective of
the earthy realism of some currents of Zen Buddhism, where awakening is to be
found in a concentrated awareness amid the vagaries of life. Or, in a more existen-
tialist vein, the meaning of life can be found only in concentrated action—in the
meaning that we give to what we do.
The connection between Kurosawa’s samurai films and American westerns
runs deep. Yet Kurosawa’s jidai-geki (period pieces) are frequently satirical and
darkly comic—deconstructing in fundamental ways the very basis of the tradi-
tional samurai drama (or western, for that matter). This is most evident in the
character of Sanjûrô in both Yojimbo (1961) and Tsubaki Sanjûrô (1962). Essen-
tially amoral though heroic in his determination and fighting skills, he is a figure
who goes out of his way to reject the ideals of “proper” samurai behavior. (It is
not incidental that Kurosawa’s samurai heroes are rōnin—masterless warriors—
who are poor, hungry, and literally looking for something to do.) In these films,
those who attempt to follow bushidō (the samurai code) most strictly come across
as pompous or at best ridiculous. Bushidō values of loyalty, self-sacrifice, and
honor are held up to ridicule in Yojimbo and (especially) Sanjûrô and are ques-
tioned throughout Kakushi-toride no san-akunin (The Hidden Fortress, 1958) and
Shichinin no samurai (Seven Samurai, 1954), where the good and bad alike are
282 | Kurosawa, Akira

ultimately trumped by the ugly. It is often unclear what the warriors are fighting
for other than their daily bread and a bit of amusement. Violence appears real and
thus is rarely glorified—more often it verges on the comic or the grotesque.
All of this might be read as a rejection by Kurosawa of traditional Japanese
values, but it is more plausibly seen as his rejection of the illusions of an idealized
and imagined past or present in favor of a focus on the world as it really is, with all
its blights and boils. The truly heroic man (in Kurosawa the heroes are inevitably
men) is one who is able to face the ugliness of reality (especially of human be-
ings) and still, through his actions, find meaning and purpose in life. Ultimately,
the truth lies less in the telling than in the doing—a message that resonates well
within Japanese religion, which tends to favor orthopraxis over orthodoxy. Our
very beliefs and assumptions—especially if they do not account for change—may
be the biggest stumbling blocks in our human quest.
Kumonosu jô (Throne of Blood, 1957), Kurosawa’s adaptation of Macbeth, is
transformed by being set in early modern Japan. It draws heavily on Noh theater
for its visual and dramatic techniques—a reliance that injects a good measure of
Buddhism into the film, taking it far away from the Shakespearean original. Most
notably, the emotions of the characters in Throne of Blood are abstracted from the
characters themselves; they become objectified. Thus the sins of ambition, pride,
lust, and cruelty become corruptions of the general human condition and perhaps
the very condition of nature itself. In Throne of Blood and to varying degrees in
Donzoko (The Lower Depths, 1957), Kagemusha (1980), and Ran (1985; literally
“chaos”), Kurosawa’s sceptical (and quixotic) humanism is overtaken by despair
at the fallen state of humanity, the brevity of life, and the inexorable workings of
fate (or karma). Ironically, the final scenes of Ran include a number of Buddhist
images, yet here the emphasis is clearly on the darker, more world-denying aspects
of Buddhism: the sufferings of the Avı‐ci hells, the battles of the Asura demons,
and the emergence of the age of mappō, the “end of the Dharma.”
Kurosawa’s final films, produced while he was in his eighties, step back from
the awful precipice to which Ran appears to have led. In these three films, made
over a four-year period, the tone is quiet, thoughtful, and decidedly less pessi-
mistic. The heroes are themselves elderly men and children, evoking a theme of
innocence not seen in Kurosawa since the 1940s.
Although sometimes criticized in his homeland for being too “western” in both
his technique and his choice of stories of his films—many of which, like Ikiru,
Throne of Blood, Tengoku to jigoku (High and Low, 1963), and Ran were adapted
from western literature—Kurosawa was also indebted to both Kabuki (Tora no
o wo fumu otokotachi [The Men Who Tread on the Tiger’s Tail], 1945) and Noh
(Throne of Blood) traditions as well as Japanese jidai-geki (Rashômon and the
samurai films). As a result of such eclecticism and given his own self-description
 Kurosawa, Akira | 283

as a citoyen du monde, it is hardly surprising to find a wide range of religious ele-

ments in Kurosawa’s oeuvre.
Taken as a whole, Kurosawa’s films display a deep and abiding humanism, yet
one that refuses to get lost in lofty ideals or otherworldly realms. It is a humanism
that pushes on in spite of the facts, including, most importantly, the blurred lines
that exist between right and wrong, good and evil, friend and foe, heaven and hell.
Something like the doctrine of karma—which in its simplest form teaches that acts
breed (moral) consequences—seems to underlie Kurosawa’s ethos. At least in his
earlier works, karmic law is tempered by an emphasis on the power of the will to
transform oneself, one’s behavior, and one’s surroundings by a kind of contagion
of goodness. This is also the correct Buddhist interpretation of karma, although
it has often been taken in a more deterministic manner, akin to what we find in
Kurosawa’s later films, like Kagemusha and Ran.
Kurosawa’s heroes go through a period of internal—perhaps spiritual—crisis,
leading them to change the way they live. For all the implied criticism of Japa-
nese (especially Confucian-derived) social norms, the Kurosawan hero, at least in
the earlier films, combines a very Japanese mixture of dogged determination and
stoic patience—along with a touch of the quixotic. The film’s resolution becomes
an acting out—a realization in both senses of the term—of the hero’s awakening
experience. Yet things are rarely perfectly resolved, as the final scenes of Ikiru and
Seven Samurai indicate. Indeed, it appears that the better nature of the hero will
often be what causes or nearly causes his downfall (as in Yojimbo). One of the
ironies of Kurosawan enlightenment is that it entails the knowledge that the lines
between good and evil are blurred, and thus compassion—while still a virtue—
may not lead to happiness, at least in any worldly sense. All we can do is to keep
our eyes wide open and be assiduous.
James Mark Shields
See also: Buddhism; Japan; Leone, Sergio.

Further Reading
Galbraith, Stuart IV. The Emperor and the Wolf: The Lives and Films of Akira Kurosawa
and Toshio Mifume. New York: Faber and Faber, 2001.
Goodwin, James, ed. Perspectives on Akira Kurosawa. New York: Macmillan, 1994.
Kurosawa, Akira. Something Like an Autobiography. New York: Knopf, 1982.
Prince, Stephen. The Warrior’s Camera: The Cinema of Akira Kurosawa. Princeton, NJ:
Princeton University Press, 1999.
Richie, Donald. The Films of Akira Kurosawa, 3rd revised and expanded ed. Berkeley:
University of California Press, 1996.
L

The Last Temptation of Christ Controversy

Director Martin Scorsese began work on his film adaptation of The Last Tempta-
tion of Christ (1988) in the 1970s. A former aspirant to the Catholic priesthood,
he had been fascinated by Nikos Kazantzakis’s 1955 Greek novel since Barbara
Hershey gave it to him on the set of Boxcar Bertha (1972) and had aspired since
the beginning of his filmmaking days to create a life of Christ on film. The screen-
play by Paul Schrader, another lapsed Catholic and a frequent Scorsese collabo-
rator, substituted a potent visual language for the interior dialogues of the novel.
The relatively low-budget project ($7 million)—a labor of love 11 years in the
making—was filmed in Morocco. Paramount Pictures pulled out of the project in
1983 and Universal Pictures released the film in 1988.
Abbreviating the narrative of Kazantzakis’s short novel as well as supplement-
ing it with reinterpretations of biblical material, Scorsese’s film emphasizes the
humanity of its central character. The film begins with a title card reading: “This
film is not based on the Gospels but is a fictional exploration of the eternal spiritual
conflict,” followed by a quotation from Kazantzakis’s novel: “The dual substance
of Christ—the yearning, so human, so superhuman, of man to attain God . . . has
always been a deep inscrutable mystery to me. My principal anguish and source
of all my joys and sorrows from my youth onward has been the incessant merci-
less battle between the spirit and the flesh . . . and my soul is the arena where these
two armies have clashed and met.” In the film, Jesus struggles to submit his will to
God’s and to understand why God wants him to die. Satan tempts Jesus with sen-
sual satisfaction and the emotional release of violence. The disciples are obtuse
and naïve, so Jesus leans most heavily on Judas Iscariot, making him promise
to help Jesus fulfill his strange destiny. In the film’s most analyzed sequence,
Jesus is visited on the cross by a young girl, an angel, who says that God does not
want him to die. She leads Jesus away from the cross and stays at his side as he
resumes a normal life: marrying Mary Magdalene, having children, meeting the

285
286 | The Last Temptation of Christ Controversy

fanatical preacher Paul of Tarsus and trying to set him straight, and finally lying
on his deathbed in old age, being visited by his former disciples. At that point in
what is now revealed to be a fantasy sequence, Jesus realizes that this is not God’s
will. He protests and finds himself back on the cross, where he proclaims with a
triumphant smile, “It is accomplished!”
Anticipating that the film would touch upon sensitive topics for evangelical
Christians, Universal hired a liaison to the born-again community in early 1988
and arranged for advance screenings for Christian leaders. Far from alleviating
their concerns, the screenings ignited demands for Universal to pull the film from
release. A network of over 1,000 Christian radio stations in California denounced
the film, and the Christian media ministry Mastermedia (headed by Larry Poland,
who had worked closely with the Universal liaison as a consultant) called for a
boycott of businesses owned by Universal’s parent company MCA. Universal re-
sponded to the prerelease controversy with an open letter, printed in newspapers
nationwide, stating that giving in to the protesters’ demands to pull the film would
violate the spirit of the First Amendment and infringe on the rights of all Americans
in order to assuage the religious sensibilities of a few. On August 11, 1988, the day
before the film’s premiere, an estimated 25,000 people gathered outside Univer-
sal’s Los Angeles headquarters in a protest organized by local Christian radio sta-
tions. The filmmaking community responded the next day with a press conference
at which prominent directors—including Billy Wilder, Peter Bogdanovich, John
Carpenter, Oliver Stone, and Warren Beatty—stated their support for Scorsese and
for Universal’s decision to release the controversial film.
Coming at the end of the Reagan presidency, which saw the rise of the reli-
gious right as a political force and was marked by attacks on blasphemy in pub-
licly funded art, The Last Temptation of Christ quickly became a prime battlefield
in the American culture wars. Christians who held a high Christology—believing
that the divinity of Christ would preclude such vacillation or weakness as the
movie portrayed—tended to be shocked by descriptions of what Kazantzakis’s
and Scorsese’s Jesus said and did. Many found the fantasy sequence in which
Jesus has sex with Mary Magdalene blasphemous, believing it highly objection-
able and offensive to connect sexuality to Jesus, even in a dream.
Groups that had been organized to decry indecency in the media or promote
family values rallied their supporters in opposition to Scorsese’s film. Donald
Wildmon, head of the influential American Family Association, wrote to the pres-
ident of Universal’s parent organization, MCA, accusing the company of “anti-
Christian bias” and demanding to know how many Christians sat on MCA and
Universal’s boards of directors. Joseph Reilly, president of Morality in Media, said
that the film was “an intentional attack on Christianity.” James Dobson, founder
of the powerful Focus on the Family, asked how “the King of the Universe can be
 The Last Temptation of Christ Controversy | 287

subjected to such ignominy and disrespect.” Bill Bright, president of Campus Cru-
sade for Christ, called Last Temptation “absolutely the most blasphemous, degen-
erate, immoral depraved script and film that I believe it is possible to conceive.”
Bright offered to reimburse Universal for the full amount of its investment in the
film in exchange for all existing prints, which he promised to destroy.
Prerelease pressure by mobilized evangelicals succeeded in persuading sev-
eral major theater chains not to book The Last Temptation of Christ. United Art-
ists, General Cinemas, and Edwards theaters all announced corporate decisions to
refuse bookings of the film, affecting more than 3,500 screens nationwide. By the
time the movie rolled out nationwide in September 1988, the heat of the media
attention on the controversy had passed, but local groups still turned out in force
to picket theaters that booked the film. Individual towns and cities banned screen-
ings of the film within their borders, including Savannah, Georgia; New Orleans;
Oklahoma City; and Santa Ana, California.
Boycotts and protests continued to be aimed at the corporate parents of Uni-
versal. Urging a boycott of businesses owned by MCA, one advocate explained:

We must send this unmistakable message to the producers and directors at Uni-
versal: “If you continue to assault the Christian system of beliefs and under-
mine the morality of our children, it will cost you dearly at the box office. It will
decrease the profits of every business you own for years to come.” There’s noth-
ing unchristian about that position in a free enterprise system.

At the Cineplex Odeon Showcase Theater in New York City, vandals slashed
seats and spray-painted threats aimed at the chairman of MCA: “Lew Wasserman:
If you release ‘The Last Temptation of Christ,’ we will wait years and decimate all
Universal property. This message is for your insurance company.” Overseas, at the
September 28 opening in Paris, demonstrators who had gathered for a prayer vigil
threw tear gas canisters at the theater’s entrance. Catholic clergy led rock-throwing
and fire-bombing assaults on theaters in many French municipalities. A thousand
rioters in Athens trashed the Opera cinema, ripping apart the screen and destroying
the projection equipment.
The American Family Association claimed victory even though they did not
prevent the movie from being released. According to their figures, Universal suf-
fered a $10 million to $13 million loss in revenue from the film because of evan-
gelical protests and boycotts. At the time, evangelical groups tended to attribute
motives of greed and financial gain to the filmmakers and their corporate backers,
misunderstanding or ignoring the nature of art-house filmmaking and distribution.
The low-budget, artistically ambitious film was never intended to be a blockbuster;
in fact, the media attention generated by the controversy probably helped the box
288 | The Last Temptation of Christ Controversy

office receipts during the theatrical run, which, at a reported $8 million domesti-
cally and $4 million overseas, were substantial for a boutique release and earned
Universal a small profit.
After the film left theaters, the controversy flared up again several times.
Blockbuster Video, at the time the nation’s largest video rental chain, declared
in 1989 that it would not stock The Last Temptation of Christ. True to its word,
it has never carried the video or DVD in its stores, although the movie is avail-
able for purchase or rental through Blockbuster’s online outlets. Some protesters
re-emerged in conjunction with Martin Scorsese’s Academy Award nomination
for Best Director for the film, but he did not win the award. Michael Medved, a
long-time film critic who became a conservative icon for his lambasting of the
film upon its release, cited it as a prime example of the degradation of the media
industry in Hollywood vs. America: Popular Culture and the War Against Tra-
ditional Values (1994). In 1995, the film was shown on the BBC in Great Brit-
ain, generating an unprecedented 1,554 complaints to its media regulatory arm,
a record not eclipsed until the network aired Jerry Springer: The Opera in 2005.
When the American Family Association, Southern Baptist Convention, Presbyte-
rian Church in America, Free Will Baptists, and others boycotted the Walt Disney
Corporation beginning in 1997, one of the cited reasons was the corporation’s
signing of Martin Scorsese, “the director of The Last Temptation of Christ,” to a
four-year contract.
Although the claim that Christians of all denominational affiliations con-
demned the film, little evidence now exists that most organized Christian denom-
inations ever released official statements to that effect. The National Association
of Evangelicals, which warned its members away from the film, comes closest
to approximating a denominational policy condemning the film. Although
American Catholics were not united against it, the U.S. Catholic Conference
supported protesters and called the film “morally offensive.” Certainly condem-
nation of the film was widespread from evangelical pulpits, and ministers of
large evangelical churches were prominent in the protests and resistance. But
the organizations behind the protests were extrachurch and parachurch bodies,
following the pattern throughout the height of the Christian right cultural and
political movement. Mainstream denominations, on the other hand, tended to
be neutral or even supportive. The Evangelical Lutheran Church in America,
for example, stated that it “does not advise its members whether they should or
should not attend individual films.” An official for the United Church of Christ
said, after a prerelease screening, that the film “raised compelling questions
about faith and the nature of divinity,” although he personally found it boring.
Such denominations, as time has passed, have tended quietly to embrace the film
as a serious exploration of such venerable theological issues as docetism and
 Latin America | 289

monophysitism, not to mention as a resource for provoking devotional reflection

on Jesus’ humanity.
Donna Bowman
See also: Bible Films; Jesus; The Passion of the Christ Controversy; Schrader,
Paul; Scorsese, Martin.

Further Reading
Lindlof, Thomas R. “The Passionate Audience: Community Inscriptions of The Last
Temptation of Christ.” In Religion and the Mass Media: Audiences and Adaptations,
edited by Daniel A. Stout and Judith M. Buddenbaum, 148–167. Thousand Oaks, CA:
Sage, 1996.
Middleton, Darren J. N. Scandalizing Jesus?: Kazantzakis’ The Last Temptation of Christ
Fifty Years On. New York: Continuum, 2005.
Morris, Michael. “Of God and Man: A Theological and Artistic Scrutiny of Martin Scors-
ese’s The Last Temptation of Christ.” American Film 14, no. 1 (1988): 44–49.
Poland, Larry W. The Last Temptation of Hollywood. Los Angeles: Mastermedia, 1988.
Riley, Robin. Film Faith and Cultural Conflict: The Case of Martin Scorsese’s The Last
Temptation of Christ. Westport, CT: Praeger, 2003.

Latin America

Religious images and expressions are ubiquitous in Latin America. It is not surpris-
ing, then, that there have been plenty of references to the sacred in Latin American
film. Latin America has always had a certain degree of religious diversity, but until
the 1960s, Roman Catholicism was clearly the dominant, if contested, religion in
a majority of Latin America’s social, political, and cultural spheres. In the same
decade, however, Protestantism—particularly in its Pentecostal expressions—and
African-derived religions grew in popularity and exposure. Latin America subse-
quently morphed into a more pluralistic religious environment.
Conversely, the distinct regional and national streams of Latin American film
seemed to converge to such a degree in the 1960s that scholars began to speak of
“New Latin American Film”—a rubric that highlighted the perceived congruities
and common goals of Latin American cinema. The “new” Latin American films
and the independent, privately financed films of the 1990s and 2000s have fre-
quently critiqued traditional Roman Catholicism and offered neutral or positive
portrayals of hybrid expressions of religion. In addition, Latin American film-
makers have used religious content to sacralize practices and identities that have
290 | Latin America

at times been ignored, shunned, or denounced by traditional religionists. Con-

sequently Latin American film has captured and formulated competing visions
of religion.
When liberation theology emerged in Latin America in the 1960s, it challenged
traditional Roman Catholic conceptions of the faith. Liberationists insisted that
Christianity should primarily promote justice for the poor. Adherents of liberation
theology challenged the church’s hierarchical and sacramental emphases, claim-
ing that the acute crises of Latin America’s poor demanded a frank denouncement
of sociopolitical ills. The theology of liberation has appeared both implicitly and
explicitly in Latin American film.
In La Última Cena (The Last Supper, 1976), director Tomás Gutiérrez Alea
drew attention to many of the same revolutionary themes of Christianity that ap-
pear in the writings of liberation theologians. In this Cuban film, set in 1795 on
a sugar plantation, the Count of Bayona arrives at a plantation where he is struck
not by the dire circumstances of the slaves but rather by their tenuous grasp of the
Catholic faith. He decides to rectify this situation by hosting a didactic dinner in
which he models the Last Supper and teaches 12 slaves the meaning of Christian-
ity. As the evening progresses, he consumes numerous glasses of wine and, with
comic histrionics, claims that the heart of Christianity is found in this-worldly
resignation, suffering, and obedience. Nevertheless, the count unwittingly inspires
some of the slaves to rebellion with his description of a heaven in which there are
no distinctions of class or race and where there is certainly no slavery. Gutiérrez
Alea’s mockery of autocratic pie-in-the-sky religion is similar to the charges that
liberation theologians have sometimes made against the Catholic Church in Latin
America; the church, they claim, has too often encouraged the poor to accept a
miserable lot in life while awaiting joy in heaven.
Carlos Carrera’s El Crimen del Padre Amaro (The Crime of Father Amaro,
2002) also draws on themes from liberation theology and is equally unflinching
in its critique of traditional religiosity. One of the most sympathetic and saga-
cious characters in the film is the humble priest Father Natalio, who quietly puts
progressive faith principles into practice as he works among campesinos. He is
suspected of having sympathies with guerillas and, as a result, becomes an embar-
rassing thorn in the side of the church’s hierarchy. The bishop, by contrast, is the
most detestable character in this film; his all-consuming goal is preserving the
cultural prestige and influence of the Church. He thus winks at the Church’s shady
alliances with drug lords, all the while insisting that supposedly lofty ends justify
despicable means. The complex web of institutional deceit involves the church,
the government, and the drug lords; its most pathetic victim is Amelia, a young
woman carrying Father Amaro’s child. In a desperate and ultimately fatal step,
she has an abortion in an underground clinic. The mayor’s wife is oblivious to the
 Latin America | 291

invisible institutional hands that have, in part, governed such personal misfortune.
When she learns of Amelia’s death, she proposes that her husband eradicate “those
places” (the underground health clinics). This is trenchant and sardonic commen-
tary on the masking of institutional evil.
In keeping with the revolutionary roots of new Latin American film, evil is
often portrayed as embedded in the structures and institutions of society. La Úl-
tima Cena, for example, is a patent indictment of oppressive social structures.
Likewise, El Crimen del Padre Amaro emphasizes institutional corruption more
than individual culpability. There is a sense that the unsavory church leaders in
this film have been formed by (and now help perpetuate) an antiquated institution
whose strictures have squeezed the pastoral life out of its offices. Priests fail to
fulfill their vows in this film, but their sexual peccadilloes pale in comparison with
the church’s failure to uphold what the Jesus of the Gospels calls the “weightier
matters of the law”—justice, love, and mercy.
Although Latin American films have continued to delineate the institutional
and social characteristics of evil, there has also been a move from what some
scholars call “exteriority to interiority.” The Mexican film, Amores Perros (Love’s
a Bitch, 2000) not only “interiorizes” evil but even makes a biblical allusion in the
process. The notion of inner wickedness is conveyed in sharp relief when Gustavo
Garfias hires Chivito, a hit man, to kill his half-brother and business associate.
There are apparently no marginalized socioeconomic conditions to account for
Gustavo’s murderous intentions, and thus it seems that his greed and malice spring
from within. Upon realizing that he has been hired to kill a man’s brother, Chivito
makes explicit reference to the story of Cain and Abel and lays bare before the
brothers the evil inclinations of their hearts.
Traditional Roman Catholicism often acts as the foil when Latin American
films explore religious views of the body and sexuality. In Yo, La Peor de Todas
(I, the Worst of All, 1990), for example, the historical figure Sor Juana Ines de la
Cruz is depicted as a nun with soaring intelligence and emotional depth whose
multiple capacities are restrained by the patriarchal environment of the church.
Her ecclesiastical superiors devalue her intellectual gifts and chide her for her
supposedly lascivious poetry. Indeed, it seems that Sor Juana’s deepest sexual (and
apparently lesbian) desires are forced mainly into sublimation through poetry.
The Cuban film La Vida es Silvar (Life Is to Whistle, 1998) offers an even
more subtle critique of the church’s relationship to sexuality. María is an overtly
and spontaneously sexual character whose quotidian activities are imbued with po-
etic sexual imagination. She is desperate, however, to procure a part in a play and
thus promises God, in a Catholic Church, that she will remain celibate if God will
grant her the role. Thus to find favor with the divine, María must relinquish one of
her most robust and distinctive qualities. After María lands the part, her struggle
292 | Latin America

to maintain the vow of chastity proves to be a source of incessant and repressive

tension. One of the primary themes in the film is that false dichotomies between
spirit and body are injurious. By contrast, social, individual, and national health
are shown to depend on a unity of diversity that eschews binary oppositions.
Perhaps the most overt criticism of the church’s perceived denigration of the
human body and sexuality is found in El Crimen del Padre Amaro. Father Amaro
is a young priest with a timorous view of sexuality. When Amelia, a smitten young
parishioner, briefly touches his hand, Amaro recoils in fear. The church has not
provided Father Amaro with a living lexicon that would unify bodily desire with
spiritual hunger. He parrots the church’s official position that the body and spirit
are of one essence, but it is clear that this is nothing more than a religious platitude
for Amaro.
In contrast to Christianity, African-derived religions, such as Santería in Cuba,
offer a more malleable view of sexuality. Some scholars argue that the incor-
poration of people whom traditional convention might deem sexually extrava-
gant or deviant is part of the growing niche appeal of African-derived religions.
Unlike Roman Catholicism, African Latin religions do not make strict demarca-
tions between sacred and profane sexual acts or identities. In fact, the orishas
(spirits) of African Latin religions may themselves be sexually deviant by societal
standards—Pomba Gira, for example, is the unofficial patron spirit of prostitutes
in Brazil.
African Latin religions are thus prevalent in Latin American films that deal
with the sexually subaltern. In Fresa y Chocolate (Strawberries and Chocolate,
1994), Diego (a gay artist) and Nancy (a prostitute living in the same building
block) practice elements of Santería. The incorporation of Nancy’s hybrid faith, in
particular, allows for an unabashed mix of the sacred and the sexual in the film. In
both a highly sensual and obviously religious scene, Nancy bathes during a ritual
of Santería and calls on the spirits to assist her in seducing Diego’s straight friend
David. Furthermore, Nancy’s and Diego’s religious devotion complicate facile ste-
reotypes: the characters are both sexually subaltern and patently religious. That
both Nancy and Diego play a part in awakening David to a more complex view
of human relationships makes it seem that their prayers to unite with him have
been answered, albeit in more nuanced ways than either has requested in private
supplication. And both of their sexual identities are at least partially affirmed in
the process.
Although religion in Latin American film can be both oppressive and liber-
ating, it is perhaps best characterized as pervasive. That is not to say that Latin
American cinema always deals with religious belief and behavior but rather that
when religion does appear, it is frequently depicted as a deep-seated cultural trait
that manifests itself in diverse and often unlikely scenarios and characters. In the
 Latin America | 293

Colombian film La Virgen de los Sicarios (Our Lady of the Assassins, 2000), a
middle-aged writer (Fernando) develops a romantic and sexual relationship with a
gun-toting, churchgoing teenage boy named Alexis. Alexis is a cold-blooded killer
but also devout—he refrains from killing a passerby out of respect for a special
commemoration of the Virgin Mary. The boy also explains to his older, bemused
lover the intricacies of “holy bullets,” the practice of blessing the bullets used in
an assassination so that the victim’s death will occur quickly. These paradoxes are
indicative of a culture in which religion is so pervasive that even in the darkest
crevices of society sacred impulses militate (however absurdly) against an other-
wise profane existence.
Sometimes, when religion appears where it is least expected, its presence is
the grounds for ironic symbolism. One scholar notes the ample use of this ironic
religious symbolism in the Brazilian film Cidade de Deus (City of God, 2002);
there are various features in this film that resonate (albeit ironically) with the
Bible, including a title that denotes peace and harmony in a world characterized
by chaos and discord, a gang leader who is baptized “into a religion of hate”
through a kind of shamanistic inversion of the Christian ceremony, and opposing
gangs’ recitation of the Lord’s Prayer before going into battle. One suspects that
the resonances would be muted if these religious images and practices were not so
prevalent in Brazilian culture.
The pervasive nature of religion in Latin American culture means that even
those at odds with the church cannot easily escape the presence of traditional
religion in their lives. In the Argentinean film El Hijo de la Novia (The Son of
the Bride, 2001), religion is relatively impotent in shaping morals and belief
in Argentinean society, but the Catholic Church does wield a kind of negative
power as it impedes individual and familial aspirations. As Norma declines into
a more advanced stage of Alzheimer’s, Nino decides to give her something that
she has always wanted—a church wedding; they had never been married in the
Church because of his “principles.” His son Rafael eventually decides to help his
father plan the wedding. Rafael’s frustrated attempts to have the church perform
this wedding seem analogous to the ambivalent relationship that some secular-
minded Latin Americans have to religion in general and Catholicism in particu-
lar. They may, on the one hand, see the church as a relatively benign institution
with the potential to be a cultural unifier. On the other hand, some claim that the
church is money-hungry and that meticulous attention to the letter of its own laws
trumps the spirit of Jesus’ teachings.
A priest initially convinces Nino to splurge and have a wedding that will cost
an exorbitant 5,000 pesos. When he learns, however, that Norma has Alzheimer’s,
the priest consults the bishop and canonical lawyers, who, in turn, refuse permis-
sion for the couple to be married because they do not meet one of the church’s
294 | Latin America

three qualifications for matrimony: that the bride be able to give her consent to the
marriage. Rafael interjects and points out that the church never asked for his moth-
er’s consent to be baptized as an infant because, as a new member, she represented
more money. He is especially miffed that the church does not honor the obvious
love of this union—a man who has devoted 44 years of his life to one woman. The
diatribe continues with an ironic assertion that the church perpetuates a naïve mes-
sage to impressionable youth that love will conquer all in marriage. Rafael claims
to have swallowed that sentiment and suffered divorce as a result.
Ultimately the wedding between Nino and Norma takes place outside the offi-
cial sanction of the church in the chapel of the assisted-living home where Norma
lives. Unbeknownst to most of those present, Juan Carlos, an actor friend of the
son, pretends to be a priest and conducts the ceremony. This character’s comic
pontifications and belabored reading from the book of Genesis seem to be part of
a broader critique of the church. The message seems to be that the church pays
meticulous attention to high ceremony but often commits a more pernicious sin of
omission—a failure to celebrate authentic love wherever it is found.
Still, the pervasiveness of religion in Latin American culture is not always
depicted in a negative light. The seeming omnipresence of the church in general
and its religious imagery in particular can also be fodder for comedic romps such
as Alejandro Springall’s Santitos (Little Saints, 1999). In this movie we see a light-
hearted depiction of what scholars call “popular Catholicism.” In Springall’s film,
saints intimately occupy every nook and corner of quotidian life. Indeed, there
seems to be a saint for every one of Esperanza’s (the protagonist’s) needs and dis-
tresses, and the movie generally affirms the vitality of a life saturated with faith.
The presence of discrete religious visions of life in Latin America means that
the potential for drama is acute when different religions meet on screen. Religious
symbolism is sometimes used to dramatize national and cultural differences (as
it is in Life Is to Whistle). Religion can thus also play a role in imagining a cul-
tural unity of disparate parts. The Mexican film Cabeza de Vaca (1991) depicts
an aborted attempt at cultural synthesis via interreligious encounter and blending.
Cabeza de Vaca tells a story based on the life of Alvar Nuñez Cabeza de Vaca,
who, as a Spanish explorer, was shipwrecked off the Gulf Coast in 1528. He is
captured by an indigenous tribe and becomes a shaman of their faith. The movie
conveys a kind of mutual illumination between the European and the indigenous.
Cabeza de Vaca learns the power of indigenous healing practices and comes to
self-identify with them. He, in turn, becomes an unlikely foreign conduit of the
divine for the indigenous; he even vaguely appropriates the symbol of the cross in
his indigenous healing ceremonies. After eight years of a journey on foot, Cabeza
de Vaca encounters fellow Spaniards, who abruptly and violently truncate any
hope for interreligious or cultural understanding.
 Leone, Sergio | 295

By contrast, when the Chilean film La Frontera (The Frontier, 1991) consid-
ers the potential for the peaceful coexistence of members of indigenous and Chris-
tian religions, it ends on a more tentatively hopeful note.
The interplay between religion and Latin American film is a relatively new
area of study. Even though the religious landscape of Latin America continues
to diversify, Latin American films do not always reflect that variety. Pentecostal-
ism, for example, has had explosive levels of growth in the region but remained
relatively underrepresented in Latin American film. When evangelicals do appear,
they tend to be stock and stereotypical characters bent on retreating from society;
this conception belies academic works that increasingly point to the autochthonous
character and appeal of Latin American Pentecostalism. More complex depictions
of Latin American evangelicalism, and other religions such as Judaism and Islam,
may provide further material for the ongoing cultural discourse between observers
and practitioners of Latin American religion.
Sean Samuel O’Neil
See also: Catholicism; Clergy; Protestantism.

Further Reading
Bowman, Donna. “Faith and the Absent Savior in Central Station.” Journal of Religion
and Film 5, no. 1 (2001): http://www.unomaha.edu/jrf/centstat.htm.
King, John. Magical Reels: A History of Cinema in Latin America. New York: Verso,
2000.
Pick, Zuzana M. “The New Latin American Cinema: A Modernist Critique of Modernity.”
In New Latin American Cinema, Volume One, edited by Michael T. Martin, 298–312.
Detroit, MI: Wayne State University Press, 1997.
Rich, B. Rich. “An/Other View of Latin American Cinema.” In New Latin American Cin-
ema, Volume One, edited by Michael T. Martin, 273–297. Detroit, MI: Wayne State
University Press, 1997.
Rodriquez-Mangual, Edna M. “Santería and the Quest for a Postcolonial Identity in Post-
Revolutionary Cuban Cinema.” In Representing Religion in World Cinema, edited by
S. Brent Plate, 219–238. New York: Palgrave/Macmillan, 2003.

Leone, Sergio (1929–1989)

Children are gunned down in the street and in their homes. Women are forced
into slavery, beaten, and raped. Men are slowly, methodically tortured. Lifelong
friends casually—and sometimes inexplicably—betray one another. Priests are
296 | Leone, Sergio

hypocrites, intellectuals are cow-

ards, and rich capitalists are fat spi-
ders who live off the sweat of the
poor. The world that Sergio Leone
consistently portrays in his genre
films is violent, gritty, and unpre-
dictable, yet he renders it on screen
in a surrealist, operatic style that can
understandably be called beautiful.
Consequently, Leone seems to have
ambivalent feelings for his charac-
ters and for the blood-soaked oeu-
vres of westerns and gangster films.
He expresses this ambivalence not
only through the beauty of his films’
visual style and music scores but
also through the actions of his crimi-
nal protagonists, who are frequently
childlike, superstitiously religious,
and strangely innocent in the con-
Italian director Sergio Leone, 1983. AP Photo.
text of the hostile world in which
they live.
Leone’s signature directing style has several prominent characteristics that
are inevitably cited whenever his work is discussed, whether it is by scholars such
as Christopher Frayling or filmmakers such as Quentin Tarantino. As Frayling
observed, his poetic directing techniques—his frequent (and visually striking) al-
ternation between extreme closeups of characters’ faces and extreme far shots of
panoramic landscapes, his alternation between a virtually silent, deathlike sound
track and a rousing, orchestral score that emphasizes the grandeur of the events
taking place, the slow pacing of his long films, and the slowly unfolding action
segments with long periods of silence broken by rapid bursts of gunfire and sud-
den death—help bestow epic sensibilities on formerly B-movie material, thereby
elevating genre films to a more literate status. But why are the people, places,
and events in Leone’s films presented in such a melodramatic manner? Leone’s
frequent actor–collaborator Clint Eastwood once suggested that the director never
outgrew a child’s wide-eyed view of the world, where everything is always larger
than life.
An Italian raised by parents who worked in the film industry, Leone cultivated
a love of film from an early age and felt a particular affinity for America and Amer-
ican movies. After an apprenticeship in film that allowed him to make uncredited
 Leone, Sergio | 297

writing and directing contributions to some of Italy’s epic “sword and sandal”
films, Leone eventually earned the opportunity to direct “spaghetti westerns”—
Italian-made cowboy films that became international blockbusters when they were
exported to America. He teamed with Eastwood during the 1960s to film his most
famous westerns, the three installments of “The Man with No Name Trilogy”—
Per un pugno di dollari (A Fistful of Dollars, 1964), Per qualche dollaro in più
(For a Few Dollars More, 1965), and Il buono, il brutto, il cattivo (The Good, the
Bad, and the Ugly, 1966). Like the classic western heroes of the John Ford films,
Leone’s protagonists act as avenging angels or wrathful Christ figures, smiting the
unjust and delivering the victimized from evil. However, it is important to note that
the Leone variant of this western archetype is more ruthless than that of the Ford
westerns, and Eastwood’s “stranger” is often more interested in personal gratifica-
tion than mere altruism. Another of Leone’s gunslingers, Colonel Mortimer from
Per qualche dollaro in più, overtly combines religious and gunslinger imagery by
dressing as a preacher, publicly reading the Bible, and carrying an array of cus-
tomized weapons. Arguably more accessible than Eastwood’s stranger character,
Mortimer is cultured, intelligent, polite to women, and charismatic, but he is also
an efficient killing machine driven to avenge his raped and murdered sister.
In several of his westerns, Leone pairs his pseudosupernatural gunslinger
characters with a very earthy, broadly comic foil, effectively granting the “Christ-
like” protagonist a fallible human companion. This “Sancho Panza” character
is frequently a hard-drinking Mexican bandit with a tendency to swear oaths to
God, laugh a lot, and kill with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. He appears in
Il buono, il brutto, il cattivo as Tuco, C’era una volta il West (Once Upon a Time
in the West, 1968) as Cheyenne, and Giù la testa (A Fistful of Dynamite, 1971)
as Juan. Each of these characters is humanized with a “back story” and a lovable
rogue quality suggesting Leone has some Marxist sympathies, but they collectively
offer a provocative perspective on the role of religion in the lives of the poor.
In Il buono, il brutto, il cattivo, Tuco represents the “ugly” side of a moral trin-
ity that also includes Blondy, a trickster character, as “the good,” and Angel Eyes, a
heartless assassin, as “the bad.” In an American landscape gone mad with the mass
slaughter and destruction caused by the Civil War, such labels seem almost mean-
ingless, especially since the three characters are more alike than the designations
suggest. Although Angel Eyes is certainly the most evil of the central characters,
Tuco is the most ambiguously presented. For example, even though he is capable
of killing without a second thought, Tuco sometimes pauses beside the body of
one of his victims to cross himself. This Catholic ritual, associated with righteous
practitioners of the faith, is a gesture that may be mere custom or a sign of Tuco’s
genuine awe at bearing witness to the passing of a soul into the afterlife. Also,
as cynical and treacherous as he can be, Tuco appears genuinely shocked when
298 | Leone, Sergio

Blondy betrays him. Cursing Blondy as a “Judas,” Tuco hopes to see Blondy die
as Judas did, with a rope around his neck. (This Judas theme returns later in C’era
una volta il West when Cheyenne, Tuco’s counterpart in the film, is seemingly be-
trayed by his gunslinger friend and similarly curses his betrayer as a “Judas.”)
In one of Leone’s memorable scenes, the bandit Tuco is reunited with his
brother Pablo for the first time in nine years. Now a Franciscan who tends to the
wounded soldiers on both sides, Pablo greets Tuco with stony silence and a disap-
proving glare. He responds to Tuco’s attempts at friendliness by admonishing him
for living a life of crime and debauchery and for missing their parents’ funerals.
Tuco replies angrily with a passionate and unforgettable monologue:

Go on, preach me a sermon. . . . You think you’re better than I am? Where we
came from, if one did not want to die of poverty one became a priest or a bandit.
You chose your way, I chose mine. Mine was harder. You talk of our mother and
father. You remember when you left to become a priest I stayed behind. I must
have been ten, twelve—I don’t remember which—but I stayed. I tried, but it was
no good. Now I’m going to tell you something. You became a priest because you
were too much of a coward to do what I do!

The two exchange blows and Tuco leaves in disgust. Pablo stares after his
brother sadly and says, “Please forgive me, brother.”
In Giù la testa, a poor bandit character not unlike Tuco encounters a priest
traveling in the lap of luxury on a train as part of a group of bourgeoise snobs.
The cross-wearing bandit Juan passes himself off as a simple peasant and listens
in as the priest discusses him with the other travelers as if he were not in the com-
partment with them. Less sympathetically presented than Pablo, this priest calls
Mexican peasants “unfortunate brutes” that, like animals, can be “tamed and made
harmless.” He adds, “I hate saying it, but you should hear them in the confessional.
You can’t imagine it.” The audience is expected to applaud Juan’s revolutionary
actions shortly thereafter when, his wrath having been awakened, he robs the party,
strips them naked, and drives them off into the desert.
As the film unfolds, it suggests that Juan’s personal faith is more sincere and
heartfelt than the middle-class spirituality of the priest on the train. Later in the
movie, it is a significant moment when, after Juan’s six children are slaughtered
by enemy soldiers, he tears the cross from around his neck and discards it. Juan’s
friend John Mallory feels guilty for the children’s deaths, and for Juan’s loss of
faith, because he was the one who recruited Juan to join the Mexican Revolution,
thereby endangering the children in the first place. By the end of the film, John
avenges his friend by killing the soldiers who shot the children, but he himself is
mortally wounded. In the closing scenes, the dying John gives Juan his cross back
 Leone, Sergio | 299

and says, “I gave you a right screwing.” The implication is that John was really the
one responsible for the children’s deaths, not God, so Juan should no longer bear
a grudge against the deity.
Ostensibly less melodramatic in look and feel than Leone’s westerns, Once
Upon a Time in America (1984) offers a similarly symbolic narrative about the
significance of violence, religion, and personal values in the lives of poor American
immigrants. The story follows Max and Noodles, two childhood friends, as they
grow up and apart struggling to survive as part of a Brooklyn Jewish community in
Christian America. By the time they reach young adulthood, Max has grown wealthy
from bootlegging during Prohibition and entertains ambitions to “go straight” and
become a respectable member of the political elite. His hopes amount to a dis-
avowal of his Jewish heritage and a desire to “convert” to become a Kennedy-style
Catholic royal. Although he keeps these intentions secret from his friends, he sym-
bolically announces them to the world by purchasing the throne of a 17th-century
pope for his office. Noodles, meanwhile, is too nostalgic for his past and too wary
of businessmen and politicians to follow Max on a similar path. Instead, Noodles
wishes to win over his childhood love, a young Jewish dancer named Debra. As an
adult, he fixates on their secret meetings as teenagers, when she would read him
the Song of Songs and observe that he was a lot dirtier and smellier than the lover
Solomon described. Unfortunately for Noodles, Debra shares Max’s desire to leave
her humble past behind, hoping to become a famous actress. In his attempts to keep
Max and Debra at his side and keep them Jewish, Noodles winds up wounding and
betraying them both, thus losing their friendship forever.
The story is told from Noodles’s perspective; since he has an opium habit, it
is not clear how reliable the narrative is or whether certain events in the film are
literally or metaphorically a pipe dream. However, the story flashes forward to pe-
riods when all three central characters are old and each seems cursed by the career
paths they have chosen. Max ultimately succeeds in killing off his gangster iden-
tity, changing his name to Bailey (an Irish Catholic moniker), and being appointed
as a secretary of commerce. Unfortunately, his attempts at upward mobility have
brought him to a point in life where political scandals have ruined him and his
only remaining options seem to be suicide, prison, or public disgrace. Debra has
married Max (or Bailey) and become a successful actress, but she seems tragically
lonely in her success. Noodles, who has worked hard to live his life as he had in
childhood, has returned penniless to the Brooklyn neighborhood of his youth to
see Jewish cemeteries being torn up and synagogues falling into disrepair. As in
the case of Tuco and his brother Pablo, Max and Noodles chose two different paths
out of a life of poverty, neither of which was ultimately correct or fulfilling.
Even though Sergio Leone’s films are not religious in the traditional sense, they
offer an intriguing, somewhat Marxist commentary on religion as a cultural force.
300 | Leone, Sergio

Their sweeping, epic scope grants a mythic significance to the lives of the criminal
and disenfranchised, thereby transforming bandits into saints and unmasking cler-
gymen as pious hypocrites. In that respect, the films are very religious and act as a
hymn to the beleaguered, privately devout, working-class man or woman.
Marc DiPaolo
See also: Catholicism; Clergy; Judaism; Tarantino, Quentin; Westerns.

Further Reading
De Fornari, Oreste. Sergio Leone: The Great Italian Dream of Legendary America. Rome:
Gremese, 1997.
Fawell, John. The Art of Sergio Leone’s Once Upon a Time in the West: A Critical Appre-
ciation. Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 2005.
Frayling, Christopher. Once Upon a Time in Italy: The Westerns of Sergio Leone. New
York: Harry N. Abrams, 2005.
Hughes, Howard. Once Upon a Time in the Italian West: A Filmgoer’s Guide to Spaghetti
Westerns. London: I. B. Taurus, 2005.
M

Magic

Magic can be defined as those practices that are thought to compel supernatural or
other extraordinary powers to help human actors achieve particular, often very tan-
gible goals. Typically, magic is deployed to predict the future, heal, ward off evil,
bring good fortune, induce romantic love, or influence events with uncertain out-
comes. Since its invention in the late 19th century, cinema has borrowed from the
world’s magical traditions in at least two significant ways. At the level of represen-
tation, portrayals of practitioners of magic (witches, wizards, magi, etc.), magical
rituals (casting spells, séances, exorcism, etc.), and magical powers (telekine-
sis, transformation, etc.) stretch from the earliest silent films to the most recent
summer blockbusters. Magic continues to be a staple of two of the most popu-
lar film genres, fantasy and animation. At a more theoretical level, the cinematic
experience for both artists and audiences often parallels the content and function
of magic found in more traditional contexts. For example, the use of directorial
techniques to give apparent agency to nonhuman things (i.e., objects that fly, ani-
mals that speak) mirrors the “animistic” beliefs that Victorian theorists found at
the heart of all magical thinking. Likewise, audience reaction suggests that cin-
ema can evoke for the modern masses the types of sentiments and emotions that
magic has traditionally conjured up in more intimate circumstances—hope, delight,
charm, fear, terror, and courage. The cathartic effects of film can also, like magi-
cal rituals, bring feelings of renewal and transformation. Taken together, these
trends strongly suggest that “magical” qualities remain central the creation and
consumption of modern cinema in spite of the ostensibly “secular” character of
the film industry.
Magic has long been a central category in the comparative study of religion;
scholars have done extensive work to document its scope and influence. World-
wide, magical lore is extremely rich and varied and can be found in diverse societ-
ies, including some of the most technologically sophisticated ones. Conceptually,

301
302 | Magic

many magical systems are built from the belief that the cosmos is an intercon-
nected system, linked by often invisible “correspondences” or “sympathies” that
can be manipulated to gain information or influence actions over great distances.
Magical power accrues to those with knowledge of these relationships, and the
ability to control the forces and spirits thought to regulate them. In some cultures,
magic involves tapping into latent powers thought to reside in special objects, ani-
mals, and human beings. Many magical practices involve highly structured rituals
that include elaborate verbal formulas, the manipulation of objects, and careful
control of the mind and body. Also important are the use of empowered objects
such as fetishes, idols, and talismans, as well as systems of rules, or taboos, whose
violation can bring on negative magic and misfortune. Many societies believe that
expert practitioners can overcome or otherwise influence natural processes. Thus
religious lore abounds with stories of magicians who fly, change shape, control
objects at a distance, cause illness and suffering, protect and heal the body, and
alter the weather.
Because they can be used for good or ill, considerable moral ambivalence and
uncertainty surround magical practices, and they often arouse hostility and cen-
sure. The world’s great religious traditions have decidedly mixed relations with
magic. Often religious authorities have been sharply critical of magical practices
that challenge their authority or exploit the gullible, and powerful religious insti-
tutions have used rhetoric, legal tactics, and even violence against practitioners
of illicit magic. Yet under some circumstances the great traditions tolerate and
absorb magical practices that are compatible with their basic beliefs and aims.
For example, in the Christian tradition, all major historical eras show evidence of
laypersons, and even some clergy, who engage in astrology, divination, and magi-
cal healing.
Although typically associated with “primitive” or “folk” cultures, magic also
has been cultivated among educated elites in advanced societies. The European
Renaissance, for example, developed complex systems of magic, some of which
contributed the artistic and technical achievements of the era. Likewise, the mod-
ern religious history of the West, while dominated by theism and secularism, in-
cludes the survival and revival of groups that make magic (or Magick) rituals
central to their practice—for example, various Hermetic, Spiritualist, and Neo-
pagan groups.
Alongside the continuous presence of magical thought, the more modern peri-
ods gave rise to various antimagical movements that sought to actively contain and
suppress magic through ridicule, critique, and legal restriction. Magic often served
as a ready foil for those dedicated to conventional piety or the life of reason. The Re-
formation, for example, condemned many magical rituals as ineffective, distracting,
and deceptive, and thus inimical to a life of true faith. The Enlightenment, as well,
 Magic | 303

aggressively devalued “superstitious” beliefs and practices as contrary to a proper

emphasis on reason and the study of nature. Following the Enlightenment critique,
a persistent strain of modern thought has argued for the rejection of magic as primi-
tive and irrational. Victorian scholars like E. B. Tylor and James Frazer qualified
this view somewhat by arguing that magic was an early stage of humanity’s ongoing
efforts to understand and control the natural world. As such it resembled but fell far
short of the more accurate and effective methods of modern science.
Social theorists have tended to qualify questions about the rationality of magi-
cal practices by emphasizing their social and psychological functions. For ex-
ample, ethnographic studies suggest magical rituals can increase self-confidence,
manage risk, improve the performance of technical tasks, and reinforce social net-
works in a wide range of societies. Magic “ritualizes” human optimism and quells
anxieties, thereby reinforcing values necessary for social life, notably cooperation,
coordination, and commitment in the face of difficult and dangerous tasks. Other
studies have noted that magical rituals often provide solidarity and a sense of em-
powerment for marginalized groups. At times, they can even serve as the rallying
point for social protest movements and revolutions.
Discussions of magic in the modern world are complicated by common usage,
which associates the term with stagecraft (sleight of hand tricks, escapes, disap-
pearances). In terms of film, however, this connection is suggestive in that the
filmic representation of the “magical,” like theatrical magic acts, relies on care-
fully crafted illusions, dramatic flair, and the suspension of doubt on the part of the
audience. Both cinematic and theatrical forms of magic can, of course, be traced
to older forms ritual performance, some dating to antiquity.
A dense, dialogic medium, film includes many layers, voices, and perspec-
tives. It has absorbed much of the world’s heritage of magical practices, and also,
more selectively, some of the critical perspective on magic. Thus films that por-
tray magic as malevolence or trickery must contend with the implicit message that
magic continues to renew, inspire, and embolden; thus magic remains an essential
part of the modern cultural matrix.
Tellingly, the roots of the film industry intertwine with the work of professional
stage magicians, who had long included projected visual effects in their shows.
Many early filmmakers had experience with the popular Victorian “phantasmago-
ria” and “magic lantern” shows that used translucent images and focused beams
of light to projected images of ghosts and famous historical figures. Frenchman
Georges Méliès, for example, made films using stop action and double-exposure
techniques to create the appearance of objects that could move, instantaneous dis-
appearance, and images of ghosts and demons. Directors also quickly learned to
use lighting techniques, such as the familiar halo effect created by backlighting, to
highlight objects or bodies that have special powers or energies.
304 | Magic

Critics also were quick to recognize a special relationship between film and
magic. In his 1922 work The Art of the Moving Picture, for example, poet Vachel
Lindsay noted how “the camera has a kind of Hallowe’en witch power”—the ca-
pacity to animate objects and landscapes. He called this power “splendor,” and
argued that it was among the distinguishing features of film as an art form, giving
life and motion to the more static arts of sculpture, painting, and architecture (59).
Anticipating auteur theory, Lindsay called for “prophet wizards” (visionary direc-
tors) to guide creative development of the medium. By using “transubstantiation”
these “magicians” would “derive strange new pulse-beats from the veins of the
earth, from the sap of the trees, from the lightening of the sky, as well as the
alchemical acids, metals, and flames” (296).
Stemming from the innovations of the silent era, subsequent generations of
filmmakers developed increasingly sophisticated technologies to make magic less
consciously “staged.” Many effects require the manipulation of the film itself after
the scenes have been shot, for example, the addition of images to a scene (fire-
balls, beams of light) or the concealment of apparatus (wires used to make an
actor “fly”). Originally done by hand painting or staining each frame, later special
effects “wizards” invented split-screen and “blue screen” techniques (two scenes
shot separately that are later blended). Given that audiences have come to expect
innovation, often movie magic has driven the technological development of the
film industry. In recent years, editors have turned to increasingly sophisticated
computer-generated imaging techniques to add color, scenery, and even charac-
ters. As a result, the presentation of “magic” has become even more impressive
and audiences have come to expect ever more spectacular and realistic effects.
Witches, particularly those derived from European folklore, are perhaps the
most familiar magic-using characters in film. Witches, often portrayed as mali-
cious monarchs, menacing crones, demonic consorts, or members of conspiratorial
covens, often serve as the villains in the horror and fantasy films. These negative
witches tend to deploy malevolent forms of magic, including spells, poisons, and
subterfuge, against the main characters, who must counter with protective and
restorative “good magic” empowered by bravery, faith, and virtue. For example,
the Queen in the animated feature Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937) uses
a magical mirror, disguises, and poisons in various attempts to eliminate her more
beautiful and virtuous maid.
Not all witches are clearly villains, however; nor are they limited by genre. The
romantic comedies I Married a Witch (1942) and Bell, Book, and Candle (1958),
for example, portray witches who use their powers to land the leading man. In the
taut psychological thriller, Hexen bis aufs Blut genquält (Burn Witch Burn, 1970),
the wife of a young academic (ironically, a skeptic) uses witchcraft to protect
him from spells cast by ruthless colleagues. A more feminist sensibility informs
 Magic | 305

The Witches of Eastwick (1987) which follows a trio of independent single women
who use witchcraft to counter mainstream conformity and male loutishness. Simi-
lar themes inform The Craft (1996), which focuses on teenage girls who use magi-
cal rituals to negotiate the challenges of coming of age. Like other witchcraft films
in recent decades, it draws upon the growing interest in neopaganism. Finally,
numerous films explore historical persecution of witches, often in the service of
social and political criticism. The silent classic Häxan (The Witches, 1922), the
British thriller Witchfinder General (also known as The Conqueror Worm, 1968),
and film versions of Arthur Miller’s 1953 play, The Crucible (1957; 1996), for
example, examine the rivalries, social tensions, and mass hysteria that lead to the
torture and execution of alleged witches. Parallels with the abuse of political and
judicial power in the 20th century are no doubt intended.
Male characters that use magic need not be limited by genre and often figure
prominently in films that explore various political and psychological themes. For
example, portrayals of Merlin from Arthurian legend, including Camelot (1967)
and Excalibur (1981), explore the ambiguities of serving powerful and ambitious
leaders. Likewise various cinematic renditions of Shakespeare’s The Tempest,
most notably Prospero’s Books (1991), suggest that visual wonders of the magical
imagination can compensate for the losses and deprivations of aging and exile.
More recently, films based upon the fantasy novels of J.R.R. Tolkien and J. K.
Rowling highlight battles between good and evil wizards armed with arsenals of
magical powers courtesy of the latest digital techniques. Both series demonstrate
that magic-using characters continue to be popular cinematic strategies for explor-
ing decidedly “modern” challenges: the industrialization of warfare and environ-
mental devastation. Examples include The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of
the Rings (2001), The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (2002), The Lord of
the Rings: The Return of the King (2003), and films depicting the coming of age
in highly competitive educational institutions, for example, Harry Potter and the
Sorcerer’s Stone (2001), Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (2002), Harry
Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (2004), and Harry Potter and the Goblet of
Fire (2005).
Thanks to annual broadcasts on network television, the musical The Wizard
of Oz (1939) might well be the most viewed American film of all time. It also
brings together most of the key themes of magical cinema. The plot follows the
adventures of Dorothy Gale, a young girl who lives in a dusty, sepia-toned Kansas
prairie town. Early on a twister hits her family farm and Dorothy falls uncon-
scious. She “awakens” to find her house transported via the storm to the Tech-
nicolor land of Oz, a place of magical creatures and dreamlike, expressionistic
landscapes. Desiring a way back to Kansas, she is advised by a good witch and
some amiable “munchkins” to seek out a powerful wizard who lives in the utopian
306 | Magic

Emerald City at the end of a meandering yellow-brick road. Along the way, Doro-
thy gains traveling companions with their own quests, a scarecrow seeking a brain,
a tin woodsman seeking a heart, and a cowardly lion seeking courage. The group
has various adventures, including encounters with the malevolent wicked witch of
the West, who can fly on a broom, hurl fireballs, cast spells, and “see” over large
distances using a crystal ball.
Eventually, the group meets the wizard, a gigantic disembodied head with a
booming voice enhanced by fiery explosions. The group is awestruck and terrified,
as if brought before an ancient deity. They are soon told that they must bring back
the broomstick of the evil witch before the wizard will grant their requests. They
succeed, only to discover that the wizard is really just a man behind a curtain whose
“magic” is smoke, mirrors, and technological trickery. Nevertheless, through flat-
tery and encouragement, the wizard helps Dorothy’s friends realize their latent
powers of intellect, emotion, and courage. Attempts to help Dorothy return home,
however, go awry until she learns that the power has been with her all the time, in
her ruby slippers. She clicks her heels and incants “There’s no place like home,”
soon finding herself restored to her Kansas farm with her family and friends all
around her. Her journey into the timeless magical realm of Oz seems to have given
her a renewed sense of the intrinsic goodness of her own domestic life.
Like other fantasy films, The Wizard of Oz borrows from literary and folkloric
sources, notably L. Frank Baum’s adolescent novels. But it also adds much that is
unique to its medium. Most daringly, the film reveals that cinematic magic is less
about the control of supernatural powers than it is about the use of special effects
to project dreams and wishes in vivid cinematic form. For both filmmakers and au-
diences, magic has become a strategy for self-realization and self-fulfillment. For
filmmakers, the ability to provide ever more vivid and compelling visual effects
has become a central feature of the industry. The ascendancy of the Disney con-
glomerate, strongly identified with all manner of “magic” technologies, under-
scores this trend. For audiences, these effects become visual pleasures, imagined
scenarios to vicariously enjoy the extension of normal human powers and abili-
ties. Of course the discovery of the “wizard behind the curtain” does not, as we
might expect, unravel and discredit the film’s magic. Rather, it points to a paradox
that still strongly influences film esthetics. Although the knowledge that “magi-
cal effects” are technical creations is widespread, so too is the willingness to be
charmed and possibly transformed by them. Thus for the average filmgoer, movie
magic is characteristically modern insofar as it mingles a knowing skepticism with
a longing for enchantment.
Lisle Dalton
See also: Animated Films; Film as Religion; Horror; Ritual.
 Mamet, David | 307

Further Reading
Barnouw, Erik. The Magician and the Cinema. New York: Oxford University Press, 1981.
During, Simon. Modern Enchantments: The Cultural Power of Secular Magic. Cambridge,
MA: Harvard University Press, 2002.
Lindsay, Vachel. The Art of the Moving Picture, rev. ed. New York: Liveright, 1970.
Moore, Rachel. Savage Theory: Cinema as Modern Magic. Durham, NC: Duke University
Press, 2000.

Mamet, David (1947– )

American playwright, poet, novelist, essayist, screenwriter, and director David

Alan Mamet was born to a Jewish family in Flossmoor, Illinois, on November 30,
1947. Primarily known as a dramatist, Mamet is also a prolific writer of novels,
verse, and criticism. His involvement in film ranges from writing screenplay adap-
tations and original screenplays to directing and writing essays on the craft of film.
He has directed 10 original feature-length screenplays to date. Mamet is famous
for his powerful, rhythmic, profane dialogue, dubbed “Mametspeak” by critics.
Primarily interested in exploring masculinity, alienation, power, and collapsing
moral values, Mamet’s films show a flair for the melodramatic that, coupled with
his distinctive dialogue, have made him a critical and box office success. Mamet
has won a number of prestigious awards for both his stage and screen work, and
he won a Pulitzer Prize in 1984 for his play Glengarry Glen Ross.
Mamet sometimes details his films with biblical references. A torrential rain
falls in Glengarry Glen Ross (1992), evoking a sense of the Flood and implying
a judgment on the 1980s, the decade in which the play was written. A slick repre-
sentative from the head office of the firm for which the characters work is named
Blake, like the author (William Blake) of The Marriage of Heaven and Hell (1794).
In William Blake’s story, Satan is an angel, and in Mamet’s story, Blake tells the
salesmen he’s there on a “mission of mercy” but announces that one of them will
lose his job at the end of the sales drive. Blake has contempt for community and
compassion, a recurring theme in Mamet’s work, along with the profound sense of
desperation and need experienced by some of his more alienated characters.
Unlike other Jewish American writers like Woody Allen and Philip Roth,
Mamet is rarely discussed in terms of his double identity. In his film work, an
exception is his movie Homicide (1991) about Jewish homicide detective Bobby
Gold. Detective Gold does not think about being Jewish. Indeed, as is typical in
police dramas, the job seems to have taken over the person of Bobby Gold. In one
scene, a black superior officer calls him a “kike” and Gold is ready to fight, but
308 | The Matrix Trilogy

the viewer doubts that Gold is feeling an insult to his identity. The conflict seems
more a function of departmental strife. In a pivotal scene, we see Gold speaking
bitterly on the phone, screaming obscenities and anti-Semitic insults because he’s
been pulled off a big drug bust to investigate the shooting death of an elderly Jewish
shopkeeper. When Gold realizes that his bitter protests have been overheard by the
murdered woman’s granddaughter, he understands what he has been saying and be-
gins his self-conversion, his path to the rediscovery of his Jewish identity. Accord-
ing to a biographer, the script of Homicide reflects a process that Mamet himself
went through after attending a niece’s bat mitzvah. Mamet has said that Homicide is
about self-loathing and the importance of counteracting anti-Semitism in oneself.
Mamet has most fully explored Judaism and Jewish identity in his writings.
In a column written for The Guardian, Mamet famously characterized Steven
Spielberg’s Schindler’s List (1993) as “emotional pornography” and has said that
portrayals of Jews being killed in the Holocaust are exploitative, regardless of the
motive for the portrayal. The only legitimate response to the Holocaust, he has
noted, is silence, quoting the Talmud’s instruction to remain silent when someone
is in mourning. Capping his religious transformation, Mamet coauthored a com-
mentary on the Torah with Lawrence Kushner, his rabbi, in 2003.
Beth Davies-Stofka
See also: Holocaust, The; Judaism.

Further Reading
Bigsby, C. E. The Cambridge Companion to David Mamet. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge
University Press, 2004.
Kushner, Lawrence, and David Mamet. Five Cities of Refuge: Weekly Reflections on Gen-
esis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy. New York: Schocken, 2003.
Mamet, David. Make-Believe Town: Essays and Remembrances. Boston: Little, Brown,
1996.
Mamet, David. The Old Religion. New York: Free Press, 1997.
Mamet, David. On Directing Film. New York: Viking, 1991.
Mamet, David. The Wicked Son: Anti-Semitism, Self-Hatred, and the Jews. New York:
Nextbook, 2006.

The Matrix Trilogy

The Matrix trilogy is a film series about an illusory world created in the brains
of captive humans by their machine masters. The story, beginning in The Matrix
(1999), centers around Neo, a computer programmer who receives a message from
 The Matrix Trilogy | 309

rebels and eventually realizes that his entire life is a mental construct fed to him by
the machines. Armed with knowledge of the real world and mental mastery of the
false one, he battles the agents of the Matrix. The story continues in The Matrix
Reloaded (2003), in which Neo penetrates the inner chambers of the Matrix and
confronts its Architect, and in The Matrix Revolutions (2003), the final install-
ment, wherein the machines storm the rebel stronghold and Neo travels to the
machine city.
The release of The Matrix provoked both popular and scholarly discussion of
the film’s relationship to philosophical and religious ideas. Aside from the central
mind–body dichotomy posited by its premise—the idea that we directly experi-
ence only mental events and therefore would not be able to tell the difference
between a “feed” of data directly into the mind and experience of a real world
through the senses—the film contains overt messianic references. Neo is hailed
by the rebel group as “the One,” a prophesied savior. Indeed, his hacker handle
“Neo” is an anagram for “One,” while Thomas Anderson, his real name, indicates
that he is a “son of man” (Greek andros, “man”). His mentor Morpheus instructs
him in the unreality of the Matrix, a lesson that eventually allows Neo to overcome
death. Riddled by the bullets of Agent Smith, an endlessly replicating, sunglass-
wearing Matrix defender, Neo resurrects himself and defeats the enemy, proving
that he has transcended the world of appearances and achieved mastery over his
mind. Character and place names throughout the movie contain religious refer-
ences: Trinity (Neo’s romantic interest), Nebuchadnezzar (the rebel spaceship),
and Zion (the rebel community).
A series of journal articles and books soon took the discussion deeper.
The messianic overtones of Neo’s character arc in The Matrix hide a more he-
retical secret: Neo is a Gnostic savior, not an orthodox Christian one. The im-
perative to “free your mind” urges us to detach our intellect from the world of
appearances—an illusory, unreal world—and ascend to the higher truths. Gnosti-
cism, a catchall term for a movement popular in the first centuries of the Com-
mon Era and inspired by Platonic philosophy and mythology, teaches that the
sensual world is a degraded form of reality and that our task in life is to climb
the ladder of truth out of matter and into the purity of ideas. In order to take that
journey, we need secret knowledge to unlock our true power, just as Neo must be
tutored by Morpheus to realize his potential. Neo’s first name, Thomas, indicates
his connection to the Gnostic path of salvation taught in the noncanonical Gospel
of Thomas.
Other commentators have noticed Buddhist overtones to the first film. The
Matrix evokes the central Buddhist problem of samsara, the world apparently
populated by selves that is, in reality, an empty projection of those selves’ de-
sires. Maya (“illusion”) is the human condition. A young boy dressed like a Bud-
dhist monk teaches Neo that “there is no spoon”; that he can change the world
310 | The Matrix Trilogy

by changing his mental relationship to it. Neo is a bodhisattva, an enlightened

one who delays his exit from the world of samsara in order to liberate others, or
perhaps a buddha whose coming presages the final destruction of the system that
enslaves them. Members of the missionary-minded Buddhist sect Soka Gakkai
have reportedly used The Matrix to introduce American proselytes to Buddhist
doctrine. Morpheus (in whose actions many found echoes of Moses and John the
Baptist) poses riddles and martial tests for his acolyte (like a Zen teacher). How-
ever, the violence of the battle against the machines, both within and without the
Matrix, and the film’s apparent endorsement of this violence as appropriate and
effective, contradict Buddhist ideals.
The second film in the trilogy, The Matrix Reloaded, complicated the Chris-
tian and Gnostic readings of the first installment while adding a wealth of further
religious detail. Niobe (a name from Greek mythology) and Seraph (a Hebrew
word designating a class of angels) become significant players. Neo meets a pro-
gram called the Merovingian (the name of the French family that allegedly guards
the secret bloodline of Jesus and Mary Magdalene) who promises him access to the
secrets of the Matrix. The Gnostic call to “free your mind” (one of the advertising
taglines for Reloaded ) was turned on its head by the movie’s relentless emphasis on
the sensual and bodily, celebrated in a central montage featuring dancing, sweating,
and sex to a primal drumbeat. Unlike Gnosticism, here the life of the mind is the
illusion while the life of the body is a sacrament.
As is customary with the middle terms of trilogies, The Matrix Reloaded, in
preparation for a final synthesis, calls into question many of the established veri-
ties of the series. Its central trope is dualism, presaged in the “red pill vs. blue pill”
choice of the original film. The idea of a binary choice, an “either/or” (a minor
character in Reloaded is named Søren, in honor of Kierkegaard) haunts the second
film. Good versus evil, light versus dark, humans versus machines—these Mani-
chean opposing forces, which the first film assumes as a framework, become
highly controversial in the second film. One of Zion’s councilors points out the
machines—running silently under the surface of Zion—on which the community
depends even as they seek to free themselves from their machine masters. Repeat-
edly, Neo is faced with a binary choice: kiss Persephone and receive access to the
Keymaster, or do not. Choose one of the two doors in the Architect’s chamber. By
acceding to the proffered binary choice rather than challenging it, Neo surrenders
to the Matrix the control over its “reality” that he had achieved in the previous
film. The film ends with Neo choosing to bring Trinity back from the dead by ma-
nipulating her “information body” within the Matrix rather than choosing to free
all of humanity while letting her die. The implicit solution to the false dichotomies
presented in Reloaded is a third way—perhaps even a Buddhist “middle way.” Or
perhaps it is a more Hegelian (and therefore Christian) synthesis, transcending
 The Matrix Trilogy | 311

the binary opposites with a solution that encompasses and affirms both thesis and
antithesis in a new form.
Just such a transcendence occurs in the climax to the final film. In the final film,
The Matrix Revolutions, Hindu names, images, and ideas appear prominently, filling
out the hint of Hindu cosmology found in Reloaded. Three Indian characters—Rama
Kandra (a version of Ramchandra, an incarnation of Vishnu), Kamala (another name
for Laksmi, the goddess of good fortune), and daughter Sati (the self-sacrifice of a
wife upon her husband’s funeral pyre) appear in a subway station and are interro-
gated by Neo about the concept of karma. Sati enters a relationships with the Oracle,
the “rogue” program that guides the rebels within the Matrix. A Vedic chant, “Asato
ma sad gamaya,” plays over the closing credits and during the climactic fight scene.
And the Source completes a trinity many interpret in Hindu terms: The Architect
(Brahman), the Oracle (Shiva), and the Source (Vishnu). The Wachowski brothers—
who created the series—also acknowledged the burgeoning academic discourse sur-
rounding the trilogy’s religious significance by loading up Zion’s protective fleet of
hovercrafts with significant names: Brahma, Gnosis, Logos.
The bulk of Revolutions follows the massive spectacle of the machines’ attack
on Zion, and the community’s spirited defense. At the same time, Neo ascends to the
machine city to offer himself as a reconciliation to end the war. The machines, orga-
nized into a composite entity called the Deus ex Machina (“God from machines,” a
reference to the contrived endings of Greek plays when a god would be lowered
from the rafters to tidy up the plot), allow Neo to connect to the Matrix for a final
showdown with Smith, whose growing power through assimilation of other programs
threatens the Source. When Smith tries to assimilate Neo, however, he destroys him-
self as well. (One theory argues that Neo deliberately allows Smith to kill him—
a kind of “fishhook” theory of Matrix atonement.) Neo’s death is not followed by
a resurrection in Revolutions, but the Oracle “suspects” that she’ll see him again
“someday”; he has ascended to make intercession for human beings, and will return.
Copious material, both scholarly and popular, has been produced in the wake
of the series. Popular books use The Matrix movies as an introductory text to
philosophical and religious issues, seeking to interest readers in Descartes, Bau-
drillard, Christianity, or Gnosticism while at the same time deepening the ref-
erences found in the films by providing their real-world background. Scholars
have used the films as texts, asking how philosophical and religious frameworks
illuminate the characters, plots, and themes of the films. The official trilogy
Web site (whatisthematrix.com) collected many scholarly papers and presented
them under the heading of “Philosophy and the Matrix.” The deluxe DVD edi-
tion of the trilogy, a 10-disc set, includes a feature-length documentary exploring
philosophical and religious themes in the films, and scholars have also provided
commentary tracks for the three films.
312 | The Miracle Controversy

Taken as a whole, the trilogy offers no single religious vision or synthe-

sis. Its meaning, like its references, are thoroughly syncretistic. Web sites like
thematrix101.com and thelastfreecity.com provide extensive glossaries and dis-
cussion of the symbols for the series. But in the end, the series makes sense only
within its own continuity (and perhaps not even there; fans and scholars have
accused the filmmakers of many inconsistencies, and the ending is not thoroughly
explained). Although it draws heavily and overtly from philosophy, theology, and
world religions, it is not reducible to an allegory for any single world-interpretive
scheme, nor does it seek to proselytize for any identifiable ideology. Instead, in
good epic storytelling fashion, it sets up an initial approach to its reality, com-
plicates and problematizes that approach, and concludes with some openness
to further revision. Given that the Wachowskis worked in comics prior to their
filmmaking career and have supervised adjuncts to the storyline of The Matrix,
it is not surprising that the trilogy has more in common with a serially produced
comic book than an exhaustive metaphysical or theological system.
Donna Bowman
See also: Bible Films; Buddhism; Dystopia; Hinduism; Science Fiction.

Further Reading
Bowman, Donna. “The Gnostic Illusion: Problematic Realized Eschatology in The Matrix
Reloaded.” Journal of Religion and Popular Culture 4 (Summer 2003): http://www.
usask.ca/relst/jrpc/art4-matrixreloaded.html.
Faller, Stephen. Beyond the Matrix: Revolutions and Revelations. St. Louis: Chalice Press,
2004.
Irwin, William, ed. The Matrix and Philosophy: Welcome to the Desert of the Real. La
Salle, IN: Open Court, 2002.
Seay, C., and Garrett, G. The Gospel Reloaded: Exploring Spirituality and Faith in the
Matrix. Colorado Springs: Pinon Press, 2003.
Yeffeth, G., ed. Taking the Red Pill: Science, Philosophy and Religion in the Matrix. Dal-
las: Benbella Books, 2003.

The Miracle Controversy

Beginning in 1915, the U.S. Supreme Court considered film to be a commercial

product and therefore subject to the same licensing as other commercial products.
In its decision in Mutual Film Corporation v. the Industrial Commission of Ohio
(236 U.S. 230), decided that year, the Court ruled that Ohio could regulate—and
 The Miracle Controversy | 313

even censor—films without violating the state’s constitutional protection of free

expression. (The Supreme Court would not extend the First Amendment’s pro-
tection of free speech to citizens involved in legal action against the states until
1925.) As the Court noted in its decision, film exhibition was a “business” that was
“conducted for profit, like other spectacles,” and therefore “not to be regarded . . .
as part of the press of the country, or as organs of public opinion.” Reflecting
the contemporary concern relating film and morality, the Court noted that while
films were “mere representations of events, of ideas and sentiments published
and known; vivid, useful, and entertaining, no doubt” they were also “capable of
evil, having power for it, the greater because of their attractiveness and manner of
exhibition.” Ohio could censor films as part of the government’s responsibility to
safeguard the morality of its citizenry.
By 1948, the Court’s attitude toward film had changed significantly, in large
part because the understanding of free speech rights had changed sufficiently. That
year, while the Mutual Film Corporation decision was still the law of the land,
Justice William Douglas, writing for the majority in United States v. Paramount
Pictures, Inc. (334 U.S. 131), an antitrust decision involving the movie industry,
noted (in an aside) that the Court had “no doubt that moving pictures, like news-
papers and radio, are included in the press whose freedom is guaranteed by the
First Amendment.” Nonetheless, by 1950 there were still licensing authorities in
six states and nearly 200 cities across the country.
In March, 1949, Joseph Burstyn, a distributor of imported films who had ear-
lier brought Ladri di biciclette (The Bicycle Thief, 1948) to American audiences,
was granted a license by the Motion Picture Division of the New York State Edu-
cation Department to show Il Miracolo (The Miracle, 1948) without English sub-
titles. The film—about a young woman who is seduced by a stranger she thinks
is St. Joseph and who becomes the target of ridicule when, now pregnant, she
declares that she is carrying the Messiah—was exhibited at the 1948 Venice Film
Festival to mixed reviews. Burstyn delayed showing the film in the United States,
but in November, 1950, he had applied for and was granted a license to show it as
part of Ways of Love, a three-film package that also included Partie de campagne
(A Day in the Country, 1936) and Jofroi (1933). Protests began soon after it opened
at Manhattan’s Paris Theater on December 12, 1950; the film was condemned as
“sacrilegious” by the National Legion of Decency—the first film so labeled by the
Legion since its founding in 1934. On December 23, the New York City Commis-
sioner of Licenses Edward McCaffrey declared the film “officially and personally
blasphemous” and ordered the theater to stop showing it or risk having its license
revoked. The theater complied, but Burstyn got a temporary injunction, appealing
to the New York State courts for permission to resume showing the film. On Janu-
ary 5, 1951, the New York Supreme Court (the trial-level court in New York) ruled
314 | The Miracle Controversy

that a city official like McCaffrey had no authority to interfere with the exhibition
of a film that had been licensed by the state. The Paris Theater resumed showing
the film.
On Sunday, January 7, 1951, Francis Cardinal Spellman, the Archbishop of
New York, read a statement from the pulpit of St. Patrick’s Cathedral calling on all
Catholics to boycott the film. For the next three weeks, Catholic groups picketed
the theater. On February 16, 1951, the New York Board of Regents, responding
to “numerous complaints,” exercised its authority as the board with oversight re-
sponsibility for the New York State Education Department and revoked the license
for the film, which it now identified as “sacrilegious.” Burstyn removed the film
from the Paris Theater and filed a suit with the Appellate Division of the New
York Supreme Court. The Appellate Division upheld the decision of the Board of
Regents, noting that its actions were “related to public peace and order” and not
an infringement of anyone’s religious liberty rights. Burstyn appealed, and the
New York Court of Appeals affirmed the decisions of the Appellate Division and
the Regents, noting that sacrilegious was a self-evident term not needing further
explication.
Burstyn then filed suit in federal court, and on April 24, 1952, the U.S. Su-
preme Court heard oral arguments on the constitutionality of sacrilegious as a
standard for censorship by state and local municipal licensing boards. Ruling
unanimously on May 26, the Court supported Burstyn’s claim that the standard
that had been applied by the Board of Regents was an unconstitutional limitation
of his free speech and free press rights. Justice Tom Clark, writing for the Court
in Joseph Burstyn, Inc. v. Wilson (343 U.S. 495), noted “that motion pictures are
a significant medium for the communication of ideas,” explicitly overturning the
Court’s 1915 decision in Mutual Film Corporation v. the Industrial Commission
of Ohio. Although the majority opinion dismissed the religious liberty claims as
unnecessary for the disposal of the issue, Justice Felix Frankfurter, writing a con-
currence signed also by Justices Robert Jackson and Harold Burton, seemed sensi-
tive to it, taking issue with the New York Court Appeals decision’s suggestion that
sacrilegious was a self-evident term.
The Supreme Court’s decision was narrowly tailored to prohibit sacrilegious
as a standard to be used by state and municipal licensing boards; the majority
was not questioning a state’s power to license films using “a clearly drawn statute
designed and applied to prevent the showing of obscene films.” However, in the
years immediately following the Burstyn decision, the federal courts would over-
turn many state and municipal standards that censored films because they were
deemed “harmful” or “immoral,” or which tended to “debase or corrupt morals.”
Obscenity would remain as a constitutional standard by which boards could cen-
sor films, but the definition of the term would be limited to materials “utterly
 Missionary Films | 315

without redeeming social importance”—a standard that did not necessarily in-
clude sexual activity per se. By 1961, only four states and 14 cities maintained
licensing boards.
Eric Michael Mazur
See also: Catholicism; Censorship in Hollywood; Fellini, Federico.

Further Reading
Couvares, Francis, ed. Movie Censorship and American Culture. Washington, DC: Smith-
sonian Institution Press, 1996.
Draper, Ellen. “ ‘Controversy Has Probably Destroyed Forever the Context’: The Miracle and
Movie Censorship in America in the Fifties.” Velvet Light Trap 25 (Spring 1990): 69–79.
Jowett, Garth. “ ‘A Significant Medium for the Communication of Ideas’: The Miracle
Decision and the Decline of Motion Picture Censorship, 1952–1968.” In Movie Censor-
ship and American Culture, edited by Francis G. Couvares, 258–276. Washington, DC:
Smithsonian Institution Press, 1996.
Westin, Alan F. The Miracle Case: The Supreme Court and the Movies. Tuscaloosa: Uni-
versity of Alabama Press, 1961.
Wittern-Keller, Laura, and Raymond J. Haberski. The Miracle Case: Film Censorship and
the Supreme Court. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 2008.

Missionary Films

As early as the turn of the 20th century, missionaries and other evangelically
minded Christians were quick to exploit the potential of new media such as radio
and television for religious outreach; film was no exception. Although it took about
two decades of film industry growth and development to produce the first explic-
itly evangelical film in 1918, early commercial filmmakers rolled religious fea-
tures off their assembly lines as quickly as the dramas, comedies, and vaudeville
entertainments that were the industry staples. Between 1897 and 1910, multiple
passion plays were filmed at various lengths, including four one-reel versions in a
single year. Although some saw danger—even possible idolatry—in the mesmer-
izing iconography of the silver screen, others saw a communication tool that could
bring God’s word and Christ’s morality to millions.
The power of film to reach the unchurched proved to be an irresistible lure for
evangelists, although the industry had a slow start. Dr. Paul Smith, a San Francisco
pastor, created the International Church Films Corporation in 1918 and produced
10 films before succumbing to bankruptcy. The Historical Film Corporation of
316 | Missionary Films

America planned to film the Bible from cover to cover but managed to release only
one film based on Philemon in 1920. Similarly, the Geographic Film Company
announced a series of 50 one-reel shorts on biblical topics, but few were ever seen
by the public.
This first rush of optimism about film’s potential as a missionary tool coincided
with the end of World War I, a new global consciousness, and rising concern about
modern vices such as alcohol, sexual license, and popular entertainments. Philan-
thropist William E. Harmon founded the Religious Motion Picture Foundation to
create short films as supplementary material for traditional sermons, and Iowa pastor
Bertram Willoughby’s New Era Films sought to reclaim the motion picture for the
glory of God. Their products aimed to avoid sectarian theology, focusing instead on
improving the audience through moral tales and uplifting, tasteful alternatives to
commercial cinema’s spectacles. However, the Great Depression ended these fledg-
ling ventures, and the market for religious productions lay dormant until 1939.
That year saw the cinematic debut of Carlos Octavia Baptista, a Venezuelan
businessman who filmed a children’s Sunday School lesson called The Story of
a Fountain Pen (1939). Its success encouraged Baptista to found the Scriptures
Visualized Institute (SVI) in 1942 in Chicago. His rapidly expanding production
schedule came into conflict with the unwillingness of many churches (based on
economic and theological considerations) to purchase film projectors and rent his
movie. The company struggled during the war, despite a generous free preview
policy, and Baptista decided to design his own sound projection system (the Mir-
acle Projector) to overcome the lack of infrastructure in his marketplace. Baptista
claimed that his second-generation version, the Miracle 2, so impressed a projec-
tionist at its unveiling that his soul was saved on the spot.
SVI’s creative high point was the world premiere of Pilgrim’s Progress
(1950)—an hour-long animated version of John Bunyan’s 1678 classic—at the
Moody Church in Chicago. In subsequent years Baptista concentrated more on his
slide projector invention, the Tel N’See, and phased out the film operations of SVI,
which was deeply in debt by the end of his life.
In the same year as Baptista’s first production, James Kempe Friedrich, an
Episcopal seminarian, used an inheritance to finance a feature-length film titled
The Great Commandment (1939). Shot on the same lot and at the same time as
Gone With the Wind (1939), Friedrich’s film was optioned by Twentieth Century
Fox and was also highly successful as a 16-mm rental. After America’s entry into
the war dampened early hopes of big-budget remakes and theatrical distribution,
Friedrich’s company, Cathedral Films, regrouped and concentrated on rentals to
churches. Between 1939 and 1954, Cathedral produced films of high produc-
tion value and personnel who would go on to notable work in secular movies,
including the noted cinematographers John Alton and Sven Nyquist, and Great
 Missionary Films | 317

Commandment director Irving Pichel, who would briefly be blacklisted after

World War II for his association with members of the “Hollywood Ten.”
Cathedral Films and SVI dominated the religious film industry in its brief hey-
day in the 1940s, yet they evinced opposing philosophies on how to use the cinema
to spread the Gospel. While Friedrich saw the entertainment value of his films as the
attraction—teaching while the viewers enjoyed themselves—Baptista believed that
his films’ value lay in their informative, educational content, something that would
only be obscured by slick visuals and other entertainment elements. These differing
styles led to differences in the filmmaking process; Baptista refused to hire non-
Christians, but Friedrich had no restrictions on the personal beliefs of his actors and
crew. Therefore Cathedral Films approached professional quality while SVI produc-
tions remained at a more independent, do-it-yourself level.
Friedrich’s fortunes turned when Cathedral Films attempted once again to
break out of the church market and into theaters with Day of Triumph (1954). The
film flopped, a result Friedrich blamed on a controversy about whether its portrayal
of Judas was anti-Semitic. In later years, the company turned to educational film-
strip production but continued to distribute its most popular film series (including
the 12-part programs Life of Paul [1949–1951] and The Living Christ [1951–1957])
alongside films developed by arms of the Lutheran and Mormon churches. In the
1970s, Cathedral created a youth-oriented subsidiary called Outreach Films that
produced films with surfing, mountaineering, and counterculture settings.
The Christian film industry of the World War II era had two main goals,
which were occasionally found to be in tension. First, there was the endeavor to
introduce its audiences to the Bible and to Christian teachings. Dramatizations of
Bible stories were prominently featured in the catalogs of both SVI and Cathedral
Films—a natural approach if the overall aim was to spread the word of God—while
other films had preachers and other well-known Christian personalities deliver-
ing sermons or giving their testimonies. The second goal was to produce whole-
some cinema, creating a countermovement to the money-driven (and therefore
sensation- and vice-driven) secular film industry. Friedrich in particular prided
himself on the inspirational messages and family-friendliness of his product.
During the 1960s, Christian filmmakers and distributors built a professional
infrastructure to deliver their product to churches. Ken Anderson’s Gospel Films,
founded in 1950, became the largest distributor of evangelical films during its
second decade. Under the long-time leadership of evangelist Billy Zeoli, the com-
pany produced biographies of born-again entertainers, like The Tony Fontane Story
(1963), and parables of Christian life, like The Gospel Blimp (1967). Having left
the company in 1960 to pursue filmmaking with a more international and mission-
ary orientation, Anderson concentrated on productions in Africa and Asia during
the first decade of his new venture, Ken Anderson Films. Dick Ross, a director
318 | Missionary Films

and writer who began work on Christian films in the 1950s, boasted high produc-
tion values in films like Shadow of the Boomerang (1960) and The Restless Ones
(1965), financed by Billy Graham, which invariably included the real-life evange-
list’s crusades and ministries as elements of the plot.
The Christian film industry’s goal of creating wholesome entertainment as an
alternative to secular movies faded into the background during the 1970s, when
apocalyptic films began to dominate the genre. A few end-times films had been
produced in the pioneering days of religious filmmaking, such as Baptista’s The
Rapture (1941); but as the end of the millennium approached, such films became
almost synonymous with evangelical film as a whole. Mark IV Pictures was
founded in Des Moines, Iowa, by Donald W. Thompson and Russell S. Doughton.
Their first release, A Thief in the Night (1972), is the earliest and still best-known
example of the Rapture and end-times thrillers that came to dominate Christian
filmmaking in the last few decades of the 20th century and persisted well into
the millennial anxiety of the early 21st. Its nightmare imagery (the entire story
line, involving disappearing Christians and a malevolent one-world government,
is revealed at the end to have been the protagonist’s dream) fit with the growing
desire of evangelicals to tap into the free-floating anxiety of American culture and
use it to win souls. The film played in innumerable church basements throughout
the early seventies and featured the song “I Wish We’d All Been Ready,” which
quickly became a youth ministry staple.
Mark IV made three sequels to A Thief in the Night, the last appearing in
1983. Another major player in 1970s apocalyptic Christian film, although with a
far less polished product, was Ron Ormond, an exploitation filmmaker who began
backing Christian film projects after surviving a plane crash in 1968. His best-
known film is the surrealistic If Footmen Tire You, What Will Horses Do? (1971),
an anti-Communist warning based on a sermon by Baptist preacher Estus Pinkle
of Mississippi. The film shows dramatized scenes of the dangers faced by the
United States from a Communist underground (including explicit, violent scenes
of torture) and advocates a return to the country’s Christian roots as the only way
to survive the coming onslaught. Ormond also released The Burning Hell (1974),
a depiction of Pinkle’s vivid descriptions of the torments of the damned. Together
with the fear-driven Rapture genre, these films represent a turning away from
wholesomeness as an important criterion of Christian cinematic witness and a
move toward the shock tactics previously associated with revivalist movements,
which had been marginalized through most of the 20th century.
Perhaps the most significant evangelical film of the 1970s, however, was Jesus
(1979, often called “the Jesus film”), an initiative of Bill Bright, founder of Cam-
pus Crusade for Christ. The aim was to produce a historically and biblically ac-
curate film portrayal of Jesus’ life. At a reported cost of $6 million—a significant
 Missionary Films | 319

budget for any film at the time—the Jesus film was made on location in the Middle
East. Although the theatrical release by Warner Brothers was a failure (damp-
ening Hollywood’s enthusiasm for religious material for more than a decade to
come), the eventual VHS distribution of the film through churches and Christian
bookstores—and Bright’s highly publicized quest to have the film translated into
as many languages as possible so it could become a missions tool—raised the
film’s profile enormously. The Jesus Film Project claims that its film was the most
viewed movie of all time—thanks to its promise to send the film on home video
to anyone who requested it and to the volunteers in 229 nations around the world
who have presented screenings.
Although the use of apocalyptic story lines in Christian film subsided in the
1980s, owing to the perception that America under Ronald Reagan was becoming
more friendly to evangelical messages, the trend re-emerged in the 1990s as the
year 2000, with its millennial implications, approached. However, the theatrical
climate outside church culture was now perceived to be far more conducive to
such films, thanks to an accelerating trend of secular thrillers focusing on apoca-
lyptic scenarios (e.g., Independence Day [1996]). Cloud Ten Pictures, founded
by the LaLonde brothers of Ontario, Canada, after many years of producing the
syndicated television series “This Week in Bible Prophecy,” pioneered the return
to these themes with its low-budget video Apocalypse (1998), distributed through
Christian bookstores and mail order. The film’s three sequels in the early 2000s
featured recognizable actors and higher-profile productions.
The advent of direct-to-consumer distribution channels, as well as changing
priorities for the Christian film industry and evangelical culture, led to a decline in
the production of feature films designed for churches or mission fields. The Trinity
Broadcasting Network financed the apocalyptic thriller The Omega Code (1999)
and released it into 300 theaters in select markets with strong evangelical commu-
nities. When Cloud Ten made Left Behind: The Movie (2000), a film version of the
1995 novel, its brisk video sales and timely millennial message led to the unusual
decision to release the film in theaters after it had been available on video for four
months. Thus began a trend in which theatrical presentation was seen as the “gold
standard” for evangelical films. The theatrical success of films aimed at or largely
supported by evangelical Christians, such as The Passion of the Christ (2004),
has led major studios to establish divisions devoted to producing, acquiring, and
distributing films for the “faith market,” thus marginalizing explicitly Christian
production companies in the marketplace.
Donna Bowman
See also: Bible Films; End-of-the-World Films; God; Jesus; The Passion of
the Christ Controversy; Protestantism.
320 | Miyazaki, Hayao

Further Reading
Hale, F. “The Mission as Cinema of Liberation Theology.” Missionalia 23, no. 1 (1995):
72–91.
Lindvall, Terry. “God in the Saddle: Silent Western Films as Protestant Sermons.” Austra-
lian Religious Studies Review 21, no. 3 (2008): 318–344.
Lindvall, Terry. Sanctuary Cinema: Origins of the Christian Film Movement. New York:
New York University Press, 2006.
Ludmann, Rene. “The Cinema as a Means of Evangelization,” translated by Joseph E.
Cunneen. Cross Currents 8, no. 2 (1958): 153–171.
Messer, Donald. Contemporary Images of Christian Ministry. Nashville, TN: Abingdon
Press, 1990.
Neely, Alan. “Images: Mission and Missionaries in Contemporary Fiction and Cinema.”
Missiology 24, no. 4 (1996): 451–478.

Miyazaki, Hayao (1941– )

Hayao Miyazaki is Japan’s most successful director of animated films (anime).

Though largely unknown to western audiences prior to the success of Mononoke
Japanese director Hayao Miyazaki at the Venice
Film Festival, 2005. AP Photo/Domenico Stinellis. incidental that the very term anime
Hime (Princess Mononoke, 1997), Mi-
yazaki’s animated films have gained
critical acclaim while smashing box
office records in his native Japan since
the formation of his Studio Ghibli in
the mid-1980s. His Academy-award-
winning Sen to Chihiro no Kamikak-
ushi (Spirited Away, 2000) remains
the highest-grossing Japanese film of
all time.
To begin, it should be noted that
any attempt to locate specific aspects
of Japanese religion in the anime of
Miyazaki founders upon the very
notion of “Japanese religion”; more
specifically, there is a fine line be-
tween aspects of Japanese religion
and what might simply be called
Japanese “culture” or “values.” At
the same time, it may not be purely
 Miyazaki, Hayao | 321

comes (via the English “animation”) from the Latin root for “soul” (anima), which
also provides the root for the word animism, a form of religion based on the wor-
ship of nature and ancestor spirits. Shinto, usually called Japan’s indigenous re-
ligion, is largely animistic, and it is this bedrock of animism that one finds in
Miyazaki’s works.
Although rarely religious in theme, Miyazaki’s stories are frequently based
on a bedrock of what might be called “folk religiosity”—in particular, the ten-
sions inherent in what Japanese scholar Sakaki Shoten has called the animistic–
shamanistic complex, categorized by a tension between kami (spirits) that should
be approached with reverence and thanks (okagesama) and those that should be
feared because of their power to curse (tatari). In Miyazaki’s films, however, the line
between these two is often blurred, so that the seemingly vicious kami are often
the ones who must be approached with reverence and thanks, in order to calm their
rage and reassert the proper order of things. Both Kaze no tani no Naushika (Nau-
sicaä of the Valley of the Wind, 1984), and Mononoke begin with scenes of rage-
filled tatarigami attacking humans, and both films conclude with the pacification
of spirits bent on the destruction of human civilization.
Another common theme in Miyazaki’s films is the ambiguity of good and evil.
This is in stark contrast to the vast majority of U.S. comics and animated films,
which generally have clearly demarcated lines between the good guys and the bad
guys. Although the films tend to be bildungsromans (coming-of-age stories) and
thus have a fairly clear “hero” (or in a majority of the films, heroine), the struggles
of the main characters are rarely if ever fought against a single monolithic enemy
but rather against individuals or groups who are going through their own struggles
and have more than a few redeeming qualities of their own. The web of rela-
tionships is constantly changing, as one-time foes become friends or vice versa.
Indeed, it sometimes seems as though Miyazaki is intentionally deconstructing
the good–evil divide, perhaps most obviously in the complex motives driving the
various colorful characters in Mononoke.
Finally, Miyazaki’s films—especially the epics Nausicaä and Mononoke—
revel in their own complex causality, in which the attempt to eliminate bad situ-
ations often leads to a recognition that nothing is as “black and white” as it first
appears. As in Buddhism, all sentient beings—even the gods and spirits—are
caught up in an intricate web or interrelation, an appreciation of which softens
moral divisions and judgment even as it reinforces the necessity of cooperation.
Any resolution that takes place in the films is more often than not based on recog-
nition of the legitimacy of alternative perspectives.
Miyazaki’s second film as director and first as writer, Nausicaä, is also the
one that made him a household name in Japan. Based on his own series of manga
(comics), the film tells a story of a Nausicaä, young princess, who inhabits a future
322 | Miyazaki, Hayao

world—a postapocalyptic dystopia brought on by human pollution and troubled

by constant warfare between the “great powers.” Along with the later Mononoke,
Nausicaä has an ecological message yet does not prey to an idealized view of a
pristine world totally free from human technology. Even the paradisial Valley of
the Wind relies on fire and machinery; what is sought is less an elimination of
human technology than a proper balance between civilization and nature.
Nausicaä herself, like San/Mononoke, is a spirited and purpose-driven young
woman who is both a skilled fighter and a friend of the animals, even the terrible
giant insects called Ohmu (literally “king of insects,” but resonant with the mysti-
cal Buddhist aum syllable) who protect and spread the poisonous Sea of Decay,
snuffing out the warring human civilizations one by one. In a classic Miyazaki
twist, Nausicaä discovers that it is the horrible Ohmu, along with the other insects
and poisonous trees and plants, who are the secret protectors of life. By the end
of the film, Nausicaä emerges as the resurrected messiah whom legends predicted
would “reunite with the earth” and bring people together to the “Blue Pure Land”
(aoki seijō no chi)—an eschatology with echoes of Judeo-Christian as well as
popular Japanese Buddhist belief. (The largest of all Buddhist sects in Japan since
the Kamakura period has been the Jōdo or Pure Land school, and the notion of
a Buddhist messiah can be found in the ancient Mahayana belief in Maitreya or
Miroku, the future buddha). Interestingly, Miyazaki eventually came to regret the
overtly religious aspect of this final scene.
Despite the kami-like nature of the title character, Miyazaki once noted that
Tonari no Totoro (My Neighbor Totoro, 1988) had no religious significance.
Much less epic in scope than Nausicaä or Mononoke, Totoro—like his later Spir-
ited Away—presents the world from the point of a view of children and evokes
nostalgia for a simpler time when humans interacted with the spirit-filled natural
world. As in Tenku no Shiro Rapyuta (Castle in the Sky, 1986), here too a massive
tree plays the role of a protector and source of vital power—in this case the tree
is the home of the totoros, harmless, playful nature spirits that can be seen only
by the innocent eyes of children and who can be called on for help in times of
need. The Buddhist bodhisattva figure Jizō—protector of children—also appears
throughout the film in the form of small statues. Along with the appearance of
shimboku—sacred trees identified with a straw rope (shimenawa) as powerful
kami—these provide the film with a realistic backdrop of rural Japan.
The most overtly religious of Miyazaki’s films—and the most complex
in terms of its portrayal of the relationships between various kami and human
beings—Princess Mononoke tells the story of the young prince Ashitaka of the
Emishi tribe (a real ethnic/cultural group who, similar to the still-existing Ainu,
were conquered and absorbed by the expanding Yamato clans in the medieval
 Miyazaki, Hayao | 323

period). Set during the transition between the medieval and early modern periods
in Japan, the background story is a clash between humans, intent of technology and
development, and the wild kami of the forest who stand in their way. Yet things are
more complex than this simple dichotomy might suggest. Leading the battle are
a trio of huge wolf gods, accompanied by a feral human girl—San or Mononoke
(literally “possessed princess”)—who wants to destroy the humans, in particular
her forsworn enemy and alter ego, the poised and powerful Lady Eboshi, leader of
Iron Town.
While Ashitaka’s (and Miyazaki’s) sympathies lean towards the kami and San,
a peek inside life in Iron Town suggests that Eboshi is a fair and benevolent ruler
who goes out of her way to help prostitutes and lepers, those shunned by “nor-
mal” society. The wild gods are themselves divided (the apes, wolves, and boars
all having different motivations and strategies for fighting the humans), and the
wolves in particular display what can only be called a taste for blood. The only
character in the film that is fairly consistently “evil” is the cynical rogue Jiko, who
happens to be a Buddhist monk, as well as a representative of the Mikado (Yamato
Emperor). At the other end of the spectrum, the elusive and mysterious Forest
God (shishigami), a kind of master kami who appears in the form of a deer, is en-
dowed with powers of fertility, but also destruction, as becomes readily apparent
upon his transformation into the Nightwalker (didaribotchi). Finally, there are the
kodama—tiny luminous sprites who appear and disappear throughout the forest—
claimed by Miyazaki to be the most successful of his efforts to portray what he
called the depth, mystery, and “awe-inspiringness” of a forest.” Prince Ashitaka
attempts, with varied success, to balance the needs and desires of all these figures.
Once again, it is harmony that is valued, over and above justice.
If Mononoke explores the tatari or “curse” element of Shinto, with a focus on
the shamanistic roots of Japanese religion, Spirited Away brings us more directly
into the okagesama side of Shinto animism as well as the significance of purifica-
tion, which in Shinto implies both physical and spiritual cleansing. Trapped in a
nighttime netherworld of the spirits, the young Chihiro watches as her gluttonous
parents literally turn to pigs before her eyes. Her quest to set them free from the
curse leads her to take a job at the bathhouse for the spirits, run by the irascible
old witch Yubaba and her helper Haku. Along the way, Chihiro—now called Sen,
her real name being “stolen” by Yubaba—meets with a wondrous array of gods,
spirits, and creatures (in Japanese, yaoyorozu no kamisama), ranging from the
sublime to the ridiculous: dragons, frog-servants, slug-maids, river kami, kami of
vegetation, and even a “stink spirit” (kusarigami) who, after bathing, turns out to
be the powerful kami of a very polluted river. Most intriguing of all is an ambigu-
ous and (literally) shadowy masked spirit called No Face (kao nashi), who tries
324 | Miyazaki, Hayao

to buy Chihiro’s friendship and, after being rebuffed, ends up leaving a path of
destruction in his wake. Finally, in typical Miyazaki fashion, No Face settles down
to become a silent partner of Chihiro and helper of Yubaba’s twin Zeniba.
The notion of a bathhouse for spirits is not so far fetched. Miyazaki took
inspiration from a Japanese rural solstice tradition in which the kami are invited
by villagers of certain towns to enter their houses for a bath. Moreover, the bath-
house reinforces the aspect of purification that holds such a significant place
in Shinto belief and ritual. Ritual purification in Shinto—which often involves
some sort of physical cleansing—conditions one’s heart/spirit (kokoro) in order
that one may more readily cultivate sincerity (makoto) in dealing with others.
Significant in Miyazaki’s vision is the fact that the kami, from highest to lowest,
must go through the same cleansing process as ordinary humans—indeed, the
bath-house guests and staff are clearly prey to the negative human emotions of
greed, pride, anger, and so on. Chihiro’s own self-development in the film is not
simply a matter of gaining courage or confidence but also of learning to be un-
selfish, sincere, and caring in her relations with those around her, whether kami
or human.
By the time he made Mononoke and Spirited Away, Miyazaki’s earlier dis-
avowal of religious influence in his films had withered away. Although these
two films—which happen to be his two most successful works—do not concern
themselves with the institutional forms of Shinto or Buddhism, they do repre-
sent attempts by Miyazaki to re-envision some core elements of Japanese folk
religiosity.
James Mark Shields
See also: Animated Films; Buddhism; Dystopia; Japan; Kurosawa, Akira;
Miyazaki, Hayao; Mizoguchi, Kenji; Ozu, Yasujirō.

Further Reading
Boyd, James W., and Tetsuya Nishimura. “Shinto Perspectives in Miyazaki’s Anime
Film ‘Spirited Away’.” The Journal of Religion and Film 8, no. 2 (2004): http://www.
unomaha.edu/jrf/Vol8No2/boydShinto.htm.
Cavallaro, Dani. The Anime Art of Hayao Miyazaki. Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 2006.
McCarthy, Helen. Hayao Miyazaki: Master of Japanese Animation. Berkeley: University
of California Press, 1999.
Napier, Susan J. Anime from Akira to Princess Mononoke: Experiencing Contemporary
Japanese Animation. New York: Palgrave, 2001.
Wright, Lucy. “Forest Spirits, Giant Insects and World Trees: The Nature Vision of Hayao
Miyazaki.” Journal of Religion and Popular Culture 10 (Summer 2005): http://www.
usask.ca/relst/jrpc/art10-miyazaki.html.
 Mizoguchi, Kenji | 325

Mizoguchi, Kenji (1898–1956)

Kenji Mizoguchi, along with Akira Kurosawa and Yasujirō Ozu, is part of the so-
called holy trinity of 20th-century Japanese filmmakers. Though less well known
than Kurosawa outside of Japan, critical acclaim has raised Mizoguchi to an ex-
alted status in the history of Japanese film, particularly in the genre of politi-
cal filmmaking (he has been called the “father of feminist film”). From his early
experimental films of the 1920s and early 1930s, through his neorealist middle
period of the late 1930s and early 1940s, and into his much-celebrated classic pe-
riod in the decade before his death at the age of 58, Mizoguchi produced a total of
85 films, though many of the early works have been lost.
The first of Mizoguchi’s films to garner international acclaim, Saikaku ichi-
dai onna (The Life of Oharu, 1952)—an adaptation of Ihara Saikaku’s Life of an
Amorous Woman (1696)—is a tale of a samurai’s daughter living within the walls
of Kyoto’s Imperial Palace. As with most of Mizoguchi’s films from the late 1930s
on, the protagonist is a good woman caught amid an array of forces beyond her
control—forces that ultimately lead to her ruin. Her early love affair with a man
of humble origin brings about the initial fall from grace, as her lover is killed and
Oharu is forced into exile. From this point begins an almost unrelenting downward
spiral as she attempts suicide, becomes mistress to a nobleman, then a high-class
courtesan, a maid, a Buddhist novice, and a beggar. Finally, she is forced into
the meanest form of prostitution. The one possibility of hope amid all this de-
spair comes with the film’s climax, where Oharu tries to reclaim her illegitimate
child. Although this, too, ends in failure and exile, the closing scene reveals that
Oharu has returned to her robes, chanting Buddhist sutras as she goes from door
to door in a small village. Her final gesture in the film is a slight bow to a distant
temple, perhaps a stoic acceptance of the sufferings of human—and especially a
woman’s—life.
Even more than the dark Oharu, Mizoguchi’s next film Ugetsu monogatari
(Tales of Ugetsu, 1953) presents a story and evokes a mood that are strikingly
Buddhist; the filming itself consciously mimics the light touch and dreamlike
quality of traditional Buddhist scroll paintings (e-maki). Set in the turbulent 16th
century, Ugetsu open with the story of two poor brothers—one a potter, the other
a would-be samurai—who dream of better lives. The film chronicles their ups
and downs and those of their wives, who more often than not suffer the brunt of
their husbands’ mistakes—in a way that evokes Mizoguchi’s mastery of mood and
emotion. While the hapless Tobei tricks his way into the samurai ranks, his “sen-
sible” brother Genjuro finds himself seduced into a life of luxury by a noble lady
who is ultimately revealed (by a wandering Buddhist mendicant) to be a ghost.
Returning home to his abandoned wife and young son after years away, Genjuro
326 | Mizoguchi, Kenji

wakes the next morning to find that this too, was an illusion—his wife had in fact
been killed years before by drunken soldiers and his son raised by a village elder.
Tobei also returns to his wife, who—though very much alive—has been raped
and forced into prostitution. Finally, the chastened family settles down to a simple
farming life.
The most overtly religious of Mizoguchi’s films, Sanchô dayû (Legend of Bai-
liff Sansho, 1954), tells a tale—not of the eponymous bailiff, a symbol of all that
is wrong in the world—but of the fall from grace of an aristocratic family. Set in
the turbulent Kamakura period (1185–1333), when Buddhism was undergoing
significant transformation and popularization, the general theme of this film is
repeated in mantralike fashion by Zushio, the hero, in words taught to him by
his exiled father: “A man without pity is no longer human.” Separated from both
parents and taken as slaves by the cruel Sansho, Zushio and his sister Anju grow
to adulthood, the former with an increasingly hardened heart. Upon hearing the
news that their mother may still be alive and living as a courtesan, Zushio escapes
from Sansho and becomes a governor of the province. Taking the route of compas-
sion over political ambition, his first act is to exile his nemesis Sansho and liberate
the bailiff’s many slaves. Resigning his post and learning of his sister’s suicide,
Sansho goes in search of his mother, who recognizes him only by his presentation
of the family heirloom, an ancient statue of the bodhisattva Kannon, goddess of
mercy. Their reunion, one of the most heralded scenes in Japanese film, power-
fully evokes the redemption of Zushio, a redemption that is, as critics have noted,
at least as Christian as it is Buddhist, given the pietà-like staging and the heavy
emphasis on mercy and forgiveness.
Mizoguchi did not limit his representation of religion to these films, how-
ever. One of his early films, Samidare zoshi (The Chronicle of May Rain, 1924),
was banned in Tokyo for being sacreligious. Its theme: a Buddhist priest lusting
after a geisha. A decade later, during a time of growing nationalism and state con-
trol, Orizuru Osen (Downfall of Osen, 1935) depicts a gang of corrupt Buddhist
monks who profit from the sale of stolen temple goods. In Shin heike monogatari
(Tales of the Taira Clan, 1955), we see the arrogance and hypocrisy of the “warrior
monks” (sōhei) as they make their way down into Kyoto to challenge the Imperial
guard. Mizoguchi never shied away from depicting the ugly realities of institution-
alized Buddhism in premodern and modern Japan. This cannot be taken, however,
as an antireligious sentiment, as Mizoguchi’s later works reveal a deep religious
sensibility, one that may well be connected to the director’s own growing religios-
ity in later life; around the time of the making of Ugetsu, he embraced Nichiren
Buddhism, a popular sect combining devotional flavor with strong sociopolitical
commitment (Mizoguchi’s father had embraced Nichiren Buddhism after the dev-
astating 1923 Kanto earthquake).
 Mormonism | 327

Indeed, associates and later critics such as Alain Masson have suggested that
Buddhism was the guiding vision behind Mizoguchi’s last great films. The mes-
sage of stoicism in the face of immeasurable suffering—once again, usually on
the part of women—resonates well with Buddhist teachings, although such a read-
ing may well subvert or minimize the political message of liberation that crit-
ics often read into these films. It can be argued that it is precisely the jidai-geki
(“period films”), generally considered Mizoguchi’s greatest works, that offer up
the heroines to the intricate and inevitable workings of cultural forces, while the
gendai-geki, or modern dramas, leave room for solidarity and social change. On an
esthetic level and in a manner that is quintessentially Japanese, the Buddhist truths
of suffering, change, and impermanence—symbolized most adroitly by Mizogu-
chi’s obsession with the subtle play of light and shadow—can be appreciated not
only for the sadness they bring but also for their beauty.
James Mark Shields
See also: Buddhism; Japan; Kurosawa, Akira; Miyazaki, Hayao; Ozu, Yasujirō.

Further Reading
Andrew, Dudley, and Paul Andrew. Kenji Mizoguchi: A Guide to References and Resources.
Boston: G. K. Hall, 1981.
Le Fanu, Mark. Mizoguchi and Japan. London: British Film Institute, 2005.
Richie, Donald. A Hundred Years of Japanese Film: A Concise History, with a Selective
Guide to Videos and DVDs. New York: Kodansha, 2001.
Washburn, Dennis, and Carole Cavanaugh, eds. Word and Image in Japanese Cinema.
New York: Cambridge University Press, 2001.

Mormonism

From the beginning, Mormons have had two vibrant narratives that would later
affect their attempts at the arts: a new scriptural testimony and revelation contain-
ing 1,000 years of biblical-era stories and their own dramatic 19th-century history,
including elements of violence, persecution, endurance, communitarian idealism,
and their own very real pioneer American exodus. Today, the Mormon relationship
with film can be found in films about Mormonism, in “official” films produced
by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (LDS), in films made by Mor-
mons, and most interestingly, in a new genre of films (by Mormons) that address
Mormon theology, history, and culture, and which are aimed primarily but not
exclusively at Mormon audiences.
328 | Mormonism

Early commercial films were almost exclusively “anti-Mormon.” One such

example, produced by Cecil B. DeMille’s film company, is A Mormon Maid
(1917), about Mormons who save a pioneer family from attacks by Native
Americans only to force them into a world of polygamy, rape, and suicide. The
British film Trapped by the Mormons (1922) carried a similar theme, and was
followed by Married to a Mormon (1922). Eventually the controversial Holly-
wood Production Code would prohibit such religious attacks. More recently,
Mormonism has become a target because of the church’s official position on
sexual orientation. There is a newer crop of gay-themed films considered by
many Mormons to be anti-Mormon: Orgazmo (1997), Bash (2001), and Latter
Days (2003) all focus on gay or sex-oriented themes revolving around LDS
members and standards.
Hollywood has portrayed Mormonism as having a heroic tale worth telling;
Brigham Young (1940) is likely the most important example. Costing approxi-
mately $1.5 million to produce, it was among Twentieth Century Fox’s most ex-
pensive movies at the time. The Mormon Church was allowed to have input on
the script in the preproduction stages, although the filmmakers acknowledged that
much of it was fictional. Polygamy was downplayed but not ignored, and refer-
ences to contemporary events in terms of prejudice, anti-Semitism, and rising fas-
cism in Europe were consciously added to the script to make it more patriotic and
relevant. The film ends dramatically with the famous Mormon story of the early
pioneers facing starvation as crickets devour their crops, only to have seagulls
miraculously arrive to eat the crickets.
Few other mainstream films have addressed Mormonism so directly. John
Ford’s Wagon Master (1950)—the story of two cowhands who join up with a
Mormon wagon train heading west—later inspired the television series Wagon
Train (NBC, 1957–1965). In more recent years, Mormonism has become a mere
plot convenience or the target of an easy joke; with writers often making a char-
acter Mormon as an idiosyncrasy. One exception is Melvin and Howard (1980),
about Melvin Dummar, a mythical Mormon loner who picks up a lonely Howard
Hughes in the desert late one night and is repaid when Hughes wills much of his
fortune to him and the Mormon Church. This was based on one of the more inter-
esting claims circulating about the Hughes will, which was missing at the time of
his death.
The Latter-day Saints have been involved in the film business from the early
years, from Rudolph Valentino’s notorious wife—the exotically renamed Natasha
Rambova—who was the granddaughter of Heber C. Kimball, an early Mormon
apostle from Salt Lake City—to Moroni Olson, a famed character actor in over
100 films, to the 1940s star Laraine Day. Mormon filmmakers first attempted to
communicate family values to general audiences by making low-budget features.
 Mormonism | 329

For example, beginning in 1974, Lyman Dayton produced several films—Where

the Red Fern Grows (1974), Seven Alone (1974), and Against a Crooked Sky
(1975)—and directed Baker’s Hawk (1976), all of which contained wholesome
themes of courage, determination, and honesty but were not specifically Mor-
mon. Also not specifically Mormon were films directed by Richard Rich, such as
The Fox and the Hound (1981) and The Black Cauldron (1985). Rich eventually
opened his own studio to produce scriptural and church history for the LDS market
in direct-to-video animated shorts, but he would eventually direct animated ver-
sions of The Swan Princess (1994) and The King and I (1999) for general release.
Don Bluth, a major figure in animation, directed An American Tail (1986)—a
film often identified as more Jewish in character—as well as The Land Before
Time (1988) The Secret of NIMH (1982), Anastasia (1997), and Titan, A.E. (2000),
among others, all large-budgeted animated feature films without specific Mormon
content or character.
Perhaps the first major director to make realistic films around his own esthetic
vision is Neil LaBute, a one-time Mormon convert and Brigham Young University
graduate, who directed the well-respected In the Company of Men (1997) and
Nurse Betty (2000). LaBute’s films differ from those of other Mormon directors in
that they are more bleak, neither wholesome nor upbeat, and often contain strong
language and violence. Yet in interviews, LaBute has claimed that he has set his
films in a very religious-styled, moralistic universe where good and evil exist; he
is just more interested in exploring the lives of those who choose evil in such a
universe.
Despite a history of official Mormon drama and frequent productions, the
most successful musical play began in 1974, when Lex de Azevedo, a Hollywood
record producer, composer, and arranger, teamed up with Brigham Young Uni-
versity (BYU) Motion Picture Studio writer Doug Stewart to create Saturday’s
Warrior, a musical play. The music was not cutting-edge rock ‘n roll but had a
much younger beat than the traditional Mormon Tabernacle Choir; young and
old alike flocked to see an LDS-themed production, sometimes over and over,
bringing friends and family with them. Although the story, jokes, and music may
seem trite today, the film was groundbreaking in its day for several reasons: it was
produced inexpensively yet professionally (with Hollywood actors and singers),
featured young semirock melodies and beats, allowed Mormons to laugh at their
own idiosyncrasies, was incredibly popular and profitable, and dealt specifically
with unique LDS themes of pre-existent spirit life, eternal marriage, missionary
service, family size and unity, and children lost in the modern world. There was no
shying away from Mormon topics in this play. It succeeded without any official ap-
proval or backing from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and proved
that there was a commercial market for major artistic productions with specifically
330 | Mormonism

and unapologetically LDS themes. In July, 1977, The Ensign (the official Mormon
Church magazine) printed a speech by then Church President Spencer W. Kimball
who, speaking positively about the value of the arts, pleaded for church members
to surpass the artistic output of the (secular) world. In the years following, BYU
put greater emphasis on its film division, and talented young students continued
to emerge with sophisticated technical and artistic training. Institutional film pro-
duction improved in production value and quality, reaching outside of Utah to find
acting and filmmaking talent.
The most successful product of this new Mormon cinema has been the popu-
lar but offbeat comedy Napoleon Dynamite (2004), which won the MTV-award
for best film in June 2005. This strange film with a fanatical cult following was
produced for about $400,000 and earned over $44 million. Directed by recent
BYU graduate Jared Hess (and cowritten with his wife Jerusha Hess), it starred
fellow classmate Jon Heder. Some have questioned whether this film qualifies as
Mormon cinema, since there seems to be nothing Mormon in it. Yet those who
come from small towns like Preston, Idaho, claim that it is completely Mormon
down to the smallest detail—not doctrinally but culturally, in a small-town Idaho
way, including the Mormon habit of substituting “gosh” and “flip/fetch” for more
common vulgarities. Napoleon Dynamite remains as the most prominent, contro-
versial, offbeat, and successful addition to this new genre, even if most fans would
not recognize it as Mormon.
Every Mormon genre film has been low-budget by Hollywood standards, pre-
senting challenges in each instance. Nevertheless, as the total increases, the awk-
ward flaws decrease, and fans and students of Mormon cinema can go into any
national chain of video stores and find up to a dozen specifically LDS-focused
feature films on display, something that was not only impossible but unthinkable
only a few years earlier.
Chris Conkling
See also: Animated Films; Censorship in Hollywood; Westerns.

Further Reading
Brigham Young University. “Mormons and Film.” Special issue, BYU Studies 46, no. 2
(2007).
D’Arc, James V. “Darryl F. Zanuck’s Brigham Young: A Film in Context.” BYU Studies 29,
no. 1 (1989): 1–24.
Kimball, Spencer W. “First Presidency Message: The Gospel Vision of the Arts.” The
Ensign (July 1977): 3.
Nelson, Richard Alan. “Mormons as Silent Cinema Villains: Propaganda and Entertain-
ment.” Historical Journal of Film, Radio, and Television 4, no. 1 (1984): 3–14.
 Mysticism | 331

Mysticism

Mysticism denotes a belief that the experience of union or direct communion with
God, spiritual truth, or ultimate reality is achievable through subjective experi-
ences, insight, or intuition. Broader definitions include the “possibility of direct
and intuitive acquisition of ineffable knowledge or power,” and “obscure or irra-
tional speculation.” Most world religions have mystical sects and adherents, as do
other local, ethnic belief systems, and many of these appear in film. From Jewish
Kabbalism to early Christian Gnosticism, from the whirling dervishes of Sufism
to the yogic oneness of Hinduism and the attainment of nirvana in Buddhism,
from the enlightenment of Zen koans to the hallucinogenic mushrooms of many
native cultures and modern day cults, film has evoked mysticism throughout its
history. But the communion with “ultimate reality” and the invocation of “inef-
fable knowledge” and power mean that film mysticism is by no means limited to
the realm of religion.
Because of the ineffable nature of mysticism, we here divide film mysticism
into three broad categories: those that attempt to provide a direct audience experi-
ence that is mystical in nature (“mystic experience”); those that document, whether
factually or fictively, the mystical experience or way of life of others (“mystic
biography”); and those that do not necessarily treat mystical subjects but use the
medium of film to create a mystical or fantastical reality or atmosphere (“mystical
ambience”). “Mystical ambience” necessarily encompasses a wide gamut of films
and subgenres including fantasy, science fiction, romance, and dramas. Within
the “mystic experience” and “mystic biography” genres are additional subgenres
of mystical films that frequently overlap: “erotic transcendence” films, wherein
sexual ecstasy is conflated with spiritual transcendence, including such disparate
examples as Fellini’s Giulietta degli spiriti (Juliet of the Spirits, 1965) and Lars
von Trier’s Breaking the Waves (1996). Additionally, “supernatural thrillers” are
a subgenre where the techniques of suspense and horror are used to heighten the
experience of the supernatural, leading sometimes to mystical experience for
the viewer and sometimes merely to mystical ambience.
Also within our third category of mystical ambience films are romantic films
in which star-crossed lovers are united mystically beyond death, throughout eter-
nity. Recent examples include What Dreams May Come (1998), Ghost (1990), and
Terry Gilliam’s The Fisher King (1991). Important earlier examples of the genre
include Peter Ibbetson (1935, a remake of the silent film, Forever [1921]), Jean
Delannoy’s L’Eternal Retour (Love Eternal, 1942, with a screenplay by Jean Coc-
teau, based on the Tristan and Isolde story), Cocteau’s Orphée (Orpheus, 1950),
and Pandora and the Flying Dutchman (1951). Vincente Minelli’s film version of
the Lerner and Loewe musical Brigadoon (1954) is in a similar vein.
332 | Mysticism

This survey provides a brief and necessarily incomplete chronology and tax-
onomy of mysticism in film, drawing most heavily on western (European and
American) filmmaking. Of course, as with any attempt to categorize works of art,
many films defy easy labeling, and several films here might easily be classed dif-
ferently or be counted as members of multiple genres.
As early as 1915, the Jewish mystic story of a clay statue brought to life by
the 16th-century mystic Rabbi Loew, using Kabbalistic knowledge to protect the
Jews from pogroms and persecution, had been seen as a fit subject for film in Der
Golem (The Golem, 1920). While not treating mysticism itself directly, this is one
of the earliest examples of film drawing on a religious, mystical source and is
often seen as a precursor to Frankenstein and his monster. The story was filmed
again as Le Golem (1936).
The next few decades saw many more films with story lines based on mysti-
cal texts or historical events, although few of them were truly mystical in content.
These include such mystic biography films as Carl Theodor Dreyer’s La Pas-
sion de Jeanne d’Arc (The Passion of Joan of Arc, 1928) and Der Dibuk (The
Dybbuk, 1937), also based on the Yiddish tale of spiritual, romantic misalliance
and exorcism.
Death features as a character in many films with mystic content. Körkarlen
(The Phantom Carriage, 1921, based on the 1912 Swedish novel of the same name)
revolves around Death’s assistant reaping souls for the coming year, who dies at
midnight on New Year’s Eve. (The same premise was used again in La Charrette
fantôme [The Phantom Wagon, 1939]). Death is a character again in yet another
Scandinavian film that presents the metaphysical with the texture of everyday
life in Ingmar Bergman’s seminal classic, Det Sjunde Inseglet (The Seventh Seal,
1957), in which a man plays chess with Death while seeking answers to life’s
riddles.
In Das Blaue Licht (The Blue Light, 1932), Leni Riefenstahl’s mystic experi-
ence film, a young girl is the only member of her village able to climb the nearby
mountain to a secret crystal grotto that glows blue in the moonlight, luring lesser
souls to their deaths. Persecuted as a witch for this ability, she later tries to share the
secret with a lover but is betrayed, leading to her own death. Some consider this the
best of the “mountain” films popular in Germany at the time, and the mystical rela-
tionship that the film draws between the land and the souls of its purer inhabitants
has been credited with bringing Riefenstahl to Hitler’s and Goebbels’s attention.
The 1930s also saw Death Takes a Holiday (1934) and Fährmann Maria (Death
and the Maiden, 1936), two of the better-known mystic experience films, where an
anthropomorphic Death engages humans directly.
The 1940s, of course, saw many films related to World War II, which was
then raging, but also, perhaps as a reaction to that horror, several films of escape
 Mysticism | 333

from this world into distant spiritual retreat, including The Razor’s Edge (1946;
1984)—based on W. Somerset Maugham’s 1944 novel—and the mystic biopic,
Black Narcissus (1947), about Anglican nuns establishing a religious community
in the Himalayas. Also from this period was A Matter of Life and Death (1946,
also known as Stairway to Heaven), in which a man must argue his case before
a heavenly court—a theme echoed almost 50 years later in the comic Defending
Your Life (1991).
The World War II period also saw what critics like Leo Charney have called
“one of the most important and influential experimental films of the 20th century.”
This film, Meshes of the Afternoon (1943), clearly belongs to our third category,
using the visual nature of the film medium to mystic effect without any direct link
to religious or metaphysical mysticism. In Meshes of the Afternoon, writer and
director Maya Deren imbues ordinary, everyday objects with mystery and danger
through the film’s exploration of a woman’s daydream images. Deren eschews
plot to make a film like a poem: juxtaposing images to create a mood or startle us
with the strangeness immanent in the mundane.
Film encountered mysticism in new ways in the 1960s, from Stanley Kubrick’s
sublime and monumental 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), where man’s pursuit of
knowledge leads from prehistoric times to a mystic communion fusing past and
future, to the ridiculous fun of Help! (1965), a musical comic jaunt with the Beat-
les, who are pursued by a caricature of a mystic cult. It is not surprising perhaps,
that the countercultural 1960s led to an outpouring of films treating the turn to
eastern mysticism, drugs, and attempts at erotic transcendence among the youth of
that time. Many such films strive for the mystic experience while achieving merely
an adolescent ambience of the mystical.
Another notable classic of this period is Rosemary’s Baby (1968), which bril-
liantly uses the techniques of suspense films, culminating in highly distorted drug-
induced dream sequences, so that a mystical experience is created both by the
feeling of suspense and the eerie quality of the waking dream. Rosemary’s Baby
won both critical and popular acclaim and is a direct ancestor of such films as The
Exorcist (1973) and The Omen (1976), which both combine a supernatural story
with the terror of the everyday to create a powerful mystical experience.
German writer Hermann Hesse was a favorite with 1960s youth for a series of
midcentury novels whose protagonists rejected the crassness and emptiness of the
adult, bourgeois world and sought meaning instead in a transcendent, interior real-
ity. These include Demian (1919), Siddartha (1922), Steppenwolf (1927), and Jour-
ney to the East (1932), many of them translated to the screen, including Siddhartha
(1927), the spiritual journey of an avatar of the Buddha and strong example of the
mystic biography. Another example of this form, from the early 1970s, is Fratella
sole, sorella luna (Brother Sun, Sister Moon, 1972), the story of St. Francis of
334 | Mysticism

Assisi, founder of the Franciscan order, from his wealthy beginnings as the son of a
merchant to his humble end. Like Siddartha, Francis rejects wealth and debauchery
for a simple life of poverty and humility. A hippie zeitgeist is partly infused into the
film by folk singer Donovan’s arrangements of old Italian melodies.
As quickly as the era of peace and love blossomed in the1960s, it ripened and
began to rot as western society was convulsed by violent civil unrest, rising urban
crime, and oil shortages. It was then that the communalism of “flower power”
metamorphosed into the “me generation.” Perhaps reflecting this new unease were
such early 1970s mystical experience pictures as The Exorcist, based on the 1971
best-selling novel of the same name by William Peter Blatty, which was based on
a 1949 Vatican-sanctioned exorcism in the United States. Like Rosemary’s Baby,
the film uses the techniques of horror films to present a visceral mystical experi-
ence of evil and the hope of redemption. The influence of these two films can be
seen in many of the supernatural thrillers that followed.
Another example of the souring of the happy hallucinations of the1960s’ into
the harrowing 1970s is El Topo (1970) and The Holy Mountain (1973). While not
widely popular, these films continue to influence popular culture, if only in music
videos, for their surrealistic handling of religion, war, deviant sex, violence, and
eternity.
Jonathan Livingston Seagull (1973), based on Richard Bach’s 1970 best-seller
of the same name, demonstrated Hollywood’s preference for the puerile in spiri-
tuality. Purporting to offer a spiritual experience, it is really a mystic biography
tracking the spiritual pilgrimage of a seagull, with a soundtrack by Neil Diamond.
Similarly, Steppenwolf (1974) provided both a spiritual experience through its
avant garde and hallucinogenic evocation of the Magic Theatre and a mystical
biography of its protagonist’s spiritual journey. Another film sitting comfortably in
two of our genres, the mystical experience and the mystical ambience, is the Aus-
tralian film The Last Wave (1977), one of the first to introduce American audiences
to the aboriginal dreamtime, with its mystical evocation of the supernatural.
In Resurrection (1980), Edna narrowly survives a car crash and has a near-
death experience. Crippled by the accident, she returns home to Kansas gradually
to learn that she has acquired healing powers. As others struggle over whether her
gift is from God or the devil, she struggles initially with her decision to use her
power over her relationships. Although it may be easier to characterize this film as
a spiritual biography, it also provides a mystic experience. And in Altered States
(1980), a professor studying psychological regression and sensory deprivation ul-
timately regresses to so primal a state of being that he must literally pound his
protean mass against the walls to force himself back to mundane, physical reality.
The climax of the film is a powerful, nonreligious mystical experience of existen-
tialism, as described in Sartre’s Nausea (1938).
 Mysticism | 335

In what may be deemed the first “environmental mystical experience” film,

Koyaanisqatsi (1983) fuses hypnotic earth images with the hypnotic music of
Phillip Glass. It was followed by Powaqqatsi (1988) and Naqoyqatsi (2002).
Difficult to characterize as belonging to any of our defined genres, Agnes of
God (1985) offers the mystery of a pregnant nun and her dead baby and can per-
haps best be described as providing a mystical experience by omission, as flocks
of birds startle us, perhaps symbolically, every time a spiritual answer is hinted at,
while the true answers to the film’s questions involve evil of a more banal nature.
Jacob’s Ladder (1990) is another film overlapping the mystic experience and mys-
tic ambience genres, a supernatural thriller with a cult following for its hallucina-
tory portrayal of a Vietnam veteran whose reality is slowly being rent apart. Like
William Golding’s 1956 novel Pincher Martin, the struggle for life gives way to
recognition of the afterlife. And Flatliners (1990), another supernatural thriller
exploring the pseudoscience of near-death experiences, provides a strong mystic
ambience, with rippling green tones giving the film an eerie, ethereal, somewhat
mystical quality.
The 1990s saw a new spate of mystic biographies, first with Bernardo Berto-
lucci’s Little Buddha (1993) and then with Martin Scorsese’s Kundun (1997). The
former provides three mystic biographies in one, giving us the spiritual stories of
the original Buddha as well as those of a young American boy who may be the latest
reincarnation and his father, while the latter recounts the story of the Dalai Lama.
The film also provides elements of mystical ambience with Philip Glass’s typically
hypnotic musical score, a fable-like screenplay, and painterly cinematography.
The late 1990s also saw a raft of popular supernatural thrillers, some more
focused on mystical ambience than on true mystic experiences. In The Devil’s
Advocate (1997), the protagonist finds the fabric of reality slipping off its frame
to reveal the work of the devil, and by implication his nemesis, God. Another in-
teresting variation in this subgenre is π (Pi, 1988), a thriller with cosmic powers
invoked by transcendental computer mathematics, making their author the target
of gangsters and Hasidic cults.
The Matrix films (The Matrix [1999], The Matrix Reloaded [2003], and The Ma-
trix Revolutions [2003]) share an element that emerged powerfully in the 1990s using
the new technologies of computer-generated imagery (CGI) to explore the immer-
sion of real people in the virtual worlds inside computers, first seen in Tron (1982).
Similar films also frequently feature characters who escape from virtual reality into
the real world and must be returned, much like ghosts in more traditional supernatu-
ral films who haunt this world until they are appeased or relieved of their burdens so
that they can return peacefully to their own realms, leaving ours undisturbed.
The late 1990s also offered several films of a more traditional nature, includ-
ing The Sixth Sense (1999), in which a young boy can see the dead, and Stigmata
336 | Mysticism

(1999), which is interesting in that it may be an example of a film that can reside
comfortably in all three of our mystic genres. A scientist-priest, perhaps suffering
some disillusion or ennui in his calling, is sent to help an apparent victim of pos-
session. However, this victim is actually possessed by another priest, who has un-
covered a lost gospel, the publication of which would threaten the authority of the
Vatican by exposing a feminist, inclusive Christ. With various supernatural events,
stigmata, and other mystical appearances, the film provides a strong mystical am-
bience and a mystical biography of the spiritual educations of both characters; its
attempt to provide a mystical experience is unfortunately undermined by the es-
sential silliness of its premise.
A far more interesting film, which acquired a cult following and achieved a
true mystical experience for viewers, was Donnie Darko (2001), a tale featuring
time travel, science fiction, and apocalypticism. Released that same year, K-PAX
(2001), though not offering a truly religious mystic experience, did display a va-
riety of mystical ambience effects with its use of light, prisms, and refractions; it
also offered its viewers a mystical experience by the simple device of not resolv-
ing its central mystery, the otherworldliness of the possibly alien character.
The philosophical Waking Life (2001) introduced new digital techniques, but
its use of animation over digital video and attention to the role of dreams provides
an inescapable mystical ambience, while The Order (2003), an intelligent super-
natural thriller, uses the arcana of Catholicism to provide a mystic experience
wrapped in a murder mystery, with lots of mystic ambience along the way. And
Whale Rider (2002), an interesting New Zealand film that won an international
audience for its powerful tale of feminist triumph in a Maori context, provided (to
its American audience, at least) a mystical ambience by including exotic religious
rituals, haunting aboriginal music, and vibrant use of color. More recently, What
the #&*! Do We (K)now?! (2004) is, perhaps, sui generis—a semidocumentary
that attempts to show that the very latest research in physics confirms the same
truths espoused by New Age proselytizers. It uses a montage methodology, per-
haps better called pastiche here, to achieve a mystical ambience. Critics largely
ignored it and the public appear to have either loathed or loved it, depending on
their appetite for New Age pseudoscientism.
Although many filmmakers over the past century have successfully docu-
mented the lives of mystics or harnessed their medium to create a mystical am-
bience, far fewer have achieved a truly mystical experience, transcending mere
affect to illuminate the ineffable mysteries of life.
Adam Isler
See also: Bergman, Ingmar; Dreyer, Carl Theodor; End-of-the-World Films;
Film as Religion; Gilliam, Terry; Horror; Scorsese, Martin; Trier, Lars von.
 Myth | 337

Further Reading
Austin, R., ed. “Screening Mystery: The Religious Imagination in Contemporary Film.”
Special issue, Image: A Journal of the Arts and Religion 20 (Summer 1998).
Comstock, W. Richard. “Religious Transcendence and the Horizons of Culture: Observa-
tions on the Role of Religion in American Film.” Revue Français D’Etudes Americ-
aines 12 (October 1981): 275–289.
Deacy, Christopher. “Redemption and Film: Cinema as a Contemporary Site of Religious
Activity.” Media Development 47, no. 1 (2000): 50–54.
Engnell, Richard A. “The Spiritual Potential of Otherness in Film: The Interplay of Scene
and Narrative.” Critical Studies in Mass Communication 12, no. 3 (1995): 241–263.
Holloway, Ronald. Beyond the Image: Approaches to the Religious Dimension in Cinema.
Geneva: World Council of Churches (Oikoumene), 1977.
Pavelin, A. “Films Evoking a Sense of Religion: The Classics and Their Successors.”
Media Development 40, no. 1 (1993): 25–27.

Myth

Myth may be defined broadly as any type of culturally transmitted narrative or

story. Such narratives give people a sense of communal identity, often imparting
implicit models that people follow in their day-to-day lives. In the field of religion,
myth has a more specific definition: a culturally transmitted and constituted nar-
rative about superhuman characters, often set in a time or place far from our own.
The modifier superhuman is a term used to suggest characters who possess quali-
ties, abilities, and attributes well beyond the qualities, abilities, and attributes of
normal human beings. Thus the term supernatural has also been used to qualify
mythological characters.
In modern societies, film has become the predominant vehicle for myth mak-
ing in the sense that films often give us a collective sense of who we are, helping
to define modern identities in terms of what is fashionable and what is in the
public discourse—for example, in films such as Easy Rider (1968) or Fahrenheit
9/11 (2004). Different films may circulate among cultural groups and subcultures,
defining common values within them, and helping these communities to imagine
themselves.
The almost ritual act of going to the movies, the experience of film—including
the suspension of disbelief involved and the immersion into the world of the
narrative—all closely resemble the process of inculcating mythology in traditional
societies. This process is typified in films that achieve “cult status,” when the stories
within films become memorized and transmitted throughout culture; for example,
338 | Myth

The Big Lebowski (1998); The Rocky

Horror Picture Show (1975), and the
Matrix trilogy (The Matrix [1999],
The Matrix Reloaded [2003], The
Matrix Revolutions [2003]). Films
like these become embedded in the
fabric of culture itself, as exempli-
fied in merchandizing and “buzz.”
Films often promulgate the
myths at the center of modern cul-
ture. For example, American myths
that espouse extreme forms of capi-
talism and excess are promoted in
the “culture industry” in Hollywood,
where the “stars” of film and tele-
vision are subject to a cult of per-
sonality, coming to resemble the
Most of the cast of The Rocky Horror Picture Show, superhuman agents of traditional
1975. AP Photo.
myth. This process is exemplified
by the rituals and myths surrounding
the figure of Elvis Presley. Indeed, since fame is constituted mainly through the
circulation of images and stories about someone, gods can be understood to have
been among the first to become famous in human societies. Tabloid celebrities in
America, like royalty elsewhere, border on the superhuman. Their extreme wealth
and notoriety allow them to do things other people cannot do—or at least this is
the image that must be projected to maintain the myths about them.
Aside from the notion that film is modern myth, the relation between myth
and film is significant primarily in two other ways. First, film narrative often fol-
lows the themes and structures of myth. Second, films have been created that tell
precisely the same story as those of religious myths.
Both film and myth are “good to think with.” That is, myths must be transmitted
from one generation to the next, so they must be remembered and maintained. This
has led scholars of religion to conclude that most myths follow basic mnemonic
themes and patterns, many of which arose in the context of archaic humans’ inter-
action with their environment but continue to engage us intellectually as transfor-
mations of these elemental experiences. As cultural productions, films engage these
elemental psychological and social patterns at the heart of myth. Their ability to
access mythical elements is part of what gives them their psychological potency.
Myths express the basic conflicts and preoccupations of the human condition.
As material culture changes over time, the human mind stays relatively the same;
 Myth | 339

our conceptual resources attempt to resolve the paradoxes these changes present
to us by artfully playing with the problems and associations that arise because of
them. Thus many regard the opposition between nature and culture to lie at the
heart of myth, expressed in the Tarzan character in Greystoke: The Legend of Tar-
zan, Lord of the Apes (1984) and the documentary Baraka (1992).
Films may be compared to myth with regard to theme, a broad category con-
cerning the basic psychological elements of the narrative, or pattern, the structure
of the narrative itself. Examples of mythic themes in film include, among many
others, human interaction with plants and animals in films such as King Kong
(1933; 1976; 2005), Jurassic Park (1993), and Doctor Dolittle (1967; 1998); the
discovery of new technologies such as fire and agriculture in such films as The
Terminator (1984) and Artificial Intelligence: AI (2001); changing demographic
patterns such as the birth of cities in films such as Earth (1998), Metropolis (1927),
and Collateral (2004); and the most common today, human sexuality, lovemaking,
and the relations between sexes in such films as When Harry Met Sally . . . (1989),
Brokeback Mountain (2005), and Fire (1996).
Film may also be compared to myth with regard to mythic patterns. Mythic
patterns are the core narrative structures that myths tend to follow. Films are
often purposefully crafted by their authors to follow these patterns, for example
George Lucas’s Star Wars (1977) is based on the work of a theorist of myth Joseph
Campbell, and the Wachowski brother’s Matrix is based on myths of Gnosticism,
Buddhism, and Christianity. Indeed Campbell’s theory of myth is taught in screen-
writing classes as a way to sell successful screenplays.
These films represent one of the most powerful mythic patterns, often termed
“the hero pattern.” In these types of myth, the main character is a superhuman
being who is born in unusual circumstances, has special powers, and is persecuted
but eventually overcomes persecutions, especially those of death, darkness, or
evil. Moses, Krishna, the Buddha, and Jesus are all examples of the hero character
in myth. The character Luke in the Star Wars series may be regarded as a hero
character, for he has an unusual birth (he is in fact a prince), has special powers
(the Force), and overcomes the forces of death, darkness, or evil. The slew of
superhero movies such as Superman: The Movie (1978) and most westerns also
adhere to this pattern. In the latter, an outsider or drifter of strange circumstance
protects a frontier town from evildoers; examples include Shane (1953) and many
of John Wayne’s films.
A few more patterns are worth mentioning. For example, another common
pattern in films of today’s Hollywood is the “end of the world” pattern. Scholars
of religion call myths about the end of the world “eschatology” and myths about
forecasts of the cataclysmic destruction of this world “apocalypticism.” In these
myths, the world is threatened by the powers of death, darkness, or evil. Often,
340 | Myth

a hero savior is required to save the world from the powers of destruction. Films
such as Independence Day (1996), War of the Worlds (2005), and Armageddon
(1998), represent this pattern.
A third example is the “journey to the underworld” pattern. In these myths, a
character must journey to the far off land of the dead, often to meet, trick, or de-
feat its ruler, represented in films such as the Lord of the Rings series (Lord of the
Rings: Fellowship of the Ring [2001]; Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers [2002];
Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King [2003]), and Apocalypse Now (1979).
This theme is common to ancient myths from Egypt and is part of the mythic cycle
of the Odyssey.
A final example worth mentioning is the “trickster” pattern. In these myths a
crafty, scheming character, usually an animal of some kind with human features,
makes trouble for another character. In the end, either the trickster gets away with
his mischief or falls prey to it himself. The trickster is usually not wholly good or
evil but rather an ambiguous figure whose activities often serve as a catalyst for
good or evil indirectly. For example, in many myths tricksters are the ones who
bring humanity technology and culture, such as the snake in the biblical Garden of
Eden, who brings knowledge, and Prometheus in Greek myth, who tricks the gods
into giving humanity fire. Films that incorporate this pattern include Ace Ventura
(1994), The Pink Panther (1963), and The Nutty Professor (1996).
As scholastic theories about myth become more widely circulated and indeed
are used as tools for screenwriting, films have also become increasingly reflex-
ive about their relation to myth. This reflexivity is exemplified in a film such as
Unbreakable (2000), which preceded the rash of films about superheroes such
as Spider-Man (2002), X-Men (2000), The Incredible Hulk (2008), and Fantastic
Four (2005), all of which were adapted from comic books. The film skillfully plays
on the human propensity to be gripped by stories about superhuman characters for-
merly found in the domain of myth but which today are often embodied in film.
As noted previously, we also find films that are simply the retelling of classic
myths in cinematic form—for example, Greek myths in such films as Hercules
(1997) and Troy (2004), biblical myths in The Ten Commandments (1956), Hindu
myths in Mahabharata (1989) and Agni Varsha (The Fire and the Rain, 2002),
Chinese folk myths incorporated into Kung Fu movies such as Shaolin Temple
(1976), Buddhist myths as in Little Buddha (1993) and Shaka (Buddha, 1961), and
of course the numerous cinematic retellings of the life and passion of Jesus, most
recently The Passion of the Christ (2004).
But calling film the modern myth is not without its analytic problems, for
there are significant differences between the terms. The first important difference
is that myths, especially those about the nature and origin of the world (that the
world emerged from the navel of a god or was created in six days), called creation
 Myth | 341

myths, are presented as true, not as fiction or falsity. In other words, myths are
believed. Aside from documentary forms of filmmaking, films are not generally
thought to be true but are fictive in nature. In both cases audiences “suspend dis-
belief ”; they are willing to entertain ideas they normally would not take to be true.
In the case of filmgoers, this suspension generally evaporates at the conclusion of
the film, while in the case of myth, it lives on. Recently, film has challenged this
dichotomy, blurring the line between fiction and reality in such movies as C’est
arrivé pres de chez vous (Man Bites Dog, 1992), Adaptation (2002), and more re-
cently Stranger than Fiction (2006). Indeed, many postmodern film theorists think
that the distinction should be challenged.
Another difference is that, partly because myths are believed to be true, they
usually have authority that films do not have. Myths are often part of a broader
religious landscape and are packaged together with doctrines that require an indi-
vidual’s compliance. Myths are thus sometimes enforced by dominant groups over
less powerful ones. Sometimes films such as The Birth of a Nation (1915) or, more
recently, Kurtlar vadisi—Irak (Valley of the Wolves: Iraq, 2006) may serve these
purposes in the form of propaganda.
Myths are understood by scholars to be culturally transmitted and consti-
tuted, fashioned organically out of the elements of culture that surround us. Thus
the third major difference between myth and film is that there are no individual
authors of myth. Myths are authored collectively by repetition and transmission
over time, while films are most often the artistic creation of an individual or
nameable group of individuals.
A final difference is that, technically, film and myth are different forms of
media. In their technical sense, myths are oral performances, whereas films are
recordings of speech and visual performance. As a form of recording like writing,
film is a second-order representation in comparison to myth. Since we naturally
organize our lives and communicative tendencies in the form of narratives, myths
access a primitive layer of speech and memory, fitting smoothly with human cog-
nitive architecture. These factors were especially helpful in transmitting and re-
membering myths before the invention of writing and other forms of inscription.
Cognitively, that is, in the mind of any individual, myths still retain their predomi-
nantly oral characteristics. Thus although myths must be remembered, films need
not be in order to live on as cultural products.
To conclude, we may say that, despite the caveats stated above, film utilizes
many features of myth, both deliberately and unconsciously, and in this sense film
may be thought of as a modern form of myth making. Furthermore, in the present
era of globalization, larger geopolitical movements—such as the rise of religious
forms of nationalism or conflicts over sacred space that are encouraged by reli-
gious myths—are played out through the medium of film; for example Ha-Hesder
342 | Myth

(Time of Favor, 2000), Seven Years in Tibet (1997), and Thunderheart (1992). With
the recent “return of religion” in the form of religious fundamentalisms through-
out the world, this tendency is becoming more common.
Film is thus part of larger global currents reacting to the godless ideologies of
secularization and liberalism; many argue that without myth, life is meaningless.
A great number of films in recent decades have expressed precisely this lack of
myth and lack of meaning—for example, Rashômon (1950), which explores the
nature of truth following the Second World War, and La Vita é bella (Life Is Beau-
tiful, 1997). Many more recent films—such as Gerry (2002), American Beauty
(1999), and About Schmidt (2002)—have sought to capture either the emptiness
that seems to characterize postindustrial capitalism or to restore a sense of cos-
mic unity or mystery—such as I ♥ Huckabees (2004), and Donnie Darko (2001).
Whether through special effects, story line, or the imagistic rhythms of film itself,
this capacity to re-enchant is precisely the reason why many scholars regard film
as modern myth.
Gabriel Levy
See also: End-of-the-World Films; Film as Religion; Greek and Roman Myths;
Kurosawa, Akira; The Matrix Trilogy; Westerns.

Further Reading
Comstock, W. Richard. “Myth and Contemporary Cinema.” Journal of the American
Academy of Religion 43 (1975): 598–600.
Hill, Geoffrey. Illuminating Shadows: The Mythic Power of Film. Boston: Shambhala,
1992.
Hirschman, Elizabeth. Heroes, Monsters, and Messiahs: Movies and Television Shows as
the Mythology of American Culture. Kansas City, MO: Andrews McMeel, 2000.
Hurley, Neil P. “Hollywood’s New Mythology.” Theology Today 39 (1983): 402–408.
Peck, Russell A., ed. Myth, Religious Typology, and Recent Cinema. Special issue, Chris-
tianity and Literature 42, no. 3 (1993).
Slotkin, Richard. “Prologue to a Study of Myth and Genre in American Movies.” Pros-
pects: An Annual of American Cultural Studies 9 (1984): 407–432.
O

Ozu, Yasujirō (1903–1963)

Yasujirō Ozu made a total of 54 films over his 35-year career (1927–1962), though
it is generally his postwar films such as Banshun (Late Spring, 1949), Bakushû
(Early Summer, 1951), Tôkyô monogatari (Tokyo Story, 1953), Soshun (Early
Spring, 1956), and Akibiyori (Late Autumn, 1960) that have secured his reputation
both within and outside of Japan. Of the big three directors of classic Japanese
cinema (Kurosawa, Mizoguchi, and Ozu), Ozu is the one most often lauded for
his formal techniques and stylistic ingenuities; he is typically seen (especially
by western scholars and critics) as the most quintessentially “Japanese” of film-
makers. In speaking of religious aspects of their respective oeuvres, the younger
Kurosawa evokes a sustained if ironic humanism and Ozu’s peer Mizoguchi a pal-
pably Buddhist ideal of stoicism in the face of suffering and impermanence; how-
ever, Ozu’s “religion” may be found less in the narrative content or general themes
of his films than in their structure or esthetic form. Given this link to esthetics and
formalism, critics tend to locate the religious roots of Ozu’s work more specifi-
cally in the Zen tradition—the school of Buddhism that has played a significant
if not determinative role in the shaping of modern Japanese esthetics. Although
there is something to the connection between Zen and Ozu’s filmmaking, it is a
link that is frequently both overstated and unexplored, as critics—both Japanese
and western—tend to fall into the easy trap of locating the ineffable “essence” of
the “Japaneseness” within Ozu’s “Zen” approach to the world.
Certainly, on the face of things there does not seem to be much overt religion
in Ozu’s works, the greatest of which are of the shomin-geki (working-class fam-
ily drama) subgenre, set for the most part in a largely secular and urban postwar
Japan. Two exceptions to this are the silent Ukikusa monogatari (Story of Floating
Weeds, 1934)—with its frequent (often ironic) cutaway shots to both Shinto and
Buddhist icons and artifacts—and the propagandistic Chichi ariki (There Was a
Father, 1942)—which is rife with Buddhist imagery, used here in the service of

343
344 | Ozu,Yasujirō

wartime ideology. In the classics of the late 1940s and 1950s, Buddhism plays a
role as background scenery—the Great Buddha statue of Kamakura in Early Sum-
mer and the Kyoto temples of Kiyomizu-dera and Ryoanji (with its unparalleled
Zen rock garden) in Late Spring. Although the case could be made that these im-
ages simply add a layer of realism to their respective stories, it is hard to ignore the
fact that Ozu has chosen the most famous and perhaps stereotypical Buddhist loca-
tions in Japan—places known to each and every older Japanese as highlights of a
common cultural heritage and in danger of being swamped by the pace and values
of modern culture. Still, compared with the overt usage of religious themes in the
great films of his rival Mizoguchi, Ozu avoids the intrusion of Buddhist doctrines
or any religious ideas into his plots, which tend to be simple, if psychologically
and emotionally acute, family dramas.
What exactly is the Zen formalism that critics see in Ozu’s works? Simplicity
of plot is an obvious root of the Zen theory, as is a conscious lack of high melo-
drama in favor of a concentration on seemingly mundane or trivial matters (once
again, in stark contrast to Mizoguchi). The pace of Ozu’s films is slow and the
takes are long, even in the postwar “talkies,” where many techniques of the silent
era continue to frame Ozu’s direction. Cuts between scenes become “still lifes,”
lingering on ordinary household objects such as a vase or a stack of books perched
on a chair suddenly slipping to the ground. Zooms and pans are nonexistent, and
Ozu’s famously low camera makes for a somewhat unique perspective, though
the reasons behind this are still debated. The acting also takes on a formalism
that verges on ritualized performance—Ozu was known to have his actors repeat
scenes dozens of times to produce this effect. In addition, speakers are often po-
sitioned in ways that appear unnatural, evoking surprise and even irritation in the
viewer used to the standard codes of cinematic placement.
Much of this has been attributed to a Zen appreciation of emptiness, simplic-
ity, and the beauty of the quotidian, though it may be just as easily taken as the
director’s attempt to push the limits of cinema by flaunting its artificiality as a
medium. Filmmaker and critic Yoshida Kiju has labeled Ozu’s later work as a form
of “anticinema”—“a theology of motion pictures” that calls into question the very
basis of the cinematic artifice by alternatively taking in the world “as it is” and
at the same time stretching the limits of that artifice via the intrusion of form (or
the camera) into the narrative. It should be noted that Ozu’s headstone, located on
the grounds of the Zen temple Engakuji in Kamakura, contains a single character
mu—the traditional Zen term for nothingness and the answer to a famous Zen
koan (a riddle intended to provoke instant awakening).
Japanese critics in general have been less inclined to read Ozu’s films in terms
of traditional Japanese esthetics, whether based in Zen or the (Shinto) mono no
aware. There is, they correctly note, a manifest hybridity and dynamism in Ozu’s
 Ozu, Yasujirō | 345

films—and an appreciation for human psychology—which includes but ultimately

extends far beyond these traditional religious categories. Given both Ozu’s life-
long love for early western cinema and his attempt to reconcile traditional Japan
with the changing mores of the postwar period (as in Late Spring), this should
hardly be surprising.
Considered by most to be Ozu’s magnum opus, Tokyo Story is frequently
taken as a locus for interpretation of his oeuvre. Typical of all his later works, the
story is simple: an elderly couple in postwar Japan departs for Tokyo to visit their
children but are met with coldness and irritation. Only their widowed daughter-
in-law (played by Ozu’s muse, the “eternal virgin” Setsuko Hara), an outsider
to the main family group, is willing to care for them. Every action, every gaze,
every simple conversation seems rife with meaning, though the meaning cannot
be found in anything other than the action, gaze, or words themselves. Here as
elsewhere, Ozu’s films require a “suspension of belief ”—a willingness to give up
on a meaning beyond what appears; a refusal of transcendence. In contrast to the
often heavy symbolism one finds in Mizoguchi, objects and vistas stand for them-
selves and often seem to be displayed from the perspective of the viewer (or the
camera) rather than that of the characters in the story. The conclusion of the film,
where the old man comes to terms with the death of his wife and the loneliness of
having to be separate (physically and emotionally) from his children, appears to
be a straightforward gloss on the Buddhist teaching of impermanence, yet the fact
that the final scene so closely mirrors the opening one also indicates an even more
basic theme of Ozu’s films: repetition and recurrence amid change.
James Mark Shields
See also: Buddhism; Japan; Kurosawa, Akira; Miyazaki, Hayao; Mizoguchi,
Kenji; Schrader, Paul.

Further Reading
Bordwell, David. Ozu and the Poetics of Cinema. London: British Film Institute, 1988.
Geist, Kathe. “West Looks East: The Influence of Yasujiro Ozu on Wim Wenders and Peter
Handke.” Art Journal 43, no. 3 (1983): 234–239.
Richie, Donald. Ozu. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1977.
Schrader, Paul. Transcendental Style in Film: Ozu, Bresson, Dreyer. Berkeley: University
of California Press, 1972.
Yoshida, Kiju (Yoshishige). Ozu’s Anti-Cinema. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press,
2003.
P

Pasolini, Pier Paolo (1922–1975)

Pier Paolo Pasolini is considered by some to be the most important Italian intellec-
tual of the second half of the 20th century. A poet, writer, journalist, and painter,
Pasolini was also a scriptwriter and film director; his films reflect his multiple in-
terests. He was born in Bologna, and his childhood was influenced by the military
environment both in his family—his father was an Army officer—and his country.
In the last months of the Second World War, Pasolini’s brother, a liberal partisan,
was killed by Communist partisans linked to Marshal Tito. This event, the collapse
of Fascism, and his homosexuality—an issue to his critics during his life and after
his death—made politics an unavoidable part of Pasolini’s public life.
In 1950, Pasolini moved to Rome, where he began his cinematographic career
as a coauthor of scripts for Mario Soldati’s La donna del fiume (The River Girl,
1955) and Federico Fellini’s Le notti di Cabiria (The Nights of Cabiria, 1957). Pa-
solini’s interests went toward the sottoproletariato (“sub-” or “underproletariat,”
that is, the poor) living in the Roman slums who migrated to the capital after
the end of the war. He wrote several short stories and novels on the Roman sot-
toproletariato and dedicated his first two films as a director—Accattone (1961)
and Mamma Roma (1962)—to this subject. In a Marxian evolution of neorealism,
he represented poor people as trash rejected by the conformist bourgeois middle
class. His attitude was considered scandalous and, although many of his oppo-
nents never actually saw it, his work was publicly condemned.
One scandal of his career came with the first movie in which he specifically
addresses religion: “La ricotta,” an episode of Ro.Go.Pa.G. (Let’s Have a Brain-
wash, 1963; the title stands for the directors involved in the project: Roberto
Rossellini, Jean-Luc Godard, Pasolini, and Ugo Gregoretti). The main character,
Stracci (“rags”), is a poor man from the Roman slums who is an extra in a movie
on the Passion of Christ; he plays one of the thieves who dies with Jesus. He is
literally a morto di fame (one who is “dying of hunger”); before being tied to the

347
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cross, he eats a whole ricotta cheese and dies of indigestion while hanging on
the cross. The troupe—directed by an impious Orson Welles—completely ignores
Stracci’s death. Pasolini was persecuted for this movie and charged with “public
defamation of the State religion.” The film was ordered to be withdrawn from
theaters. It took four years for Pasolini to be cleared of all charges. Nevertheless,
Pasolini was defended by many Catholics, even conservative ones. Il popolo, the
official paper of the Christian Democrats (the main government party in Italy from
1948 to 1992) considered the message embedded in “La ricotta” to be provocative
but doubtlessly valid.
In preparation for making Il vangelo secondo Matteo (The Gospel Accord-
ing to Saint Matthew, 1964), his next major film with specific religious content,
Pasolini received theological assistance from the Franciscan friars in Assisi. After
visiting Israel, he decided to shoot the film in the poor areas of southern Italy, in
part because the landscape there was less influenced by industrialization and tour-
ism and in part because the people in southern Italy could better represent those
whom Jesus had taught centuries before. Pasolini’s Jesus is not a miracle maker
but rather a great speaker; very few of the great sermons found in the Gospel of
Matthew are cut from the screenplay. Moreover, Pasolini’s Jesus speaks with au-
thority and with a vigor that seems to verge on anger.
Il vangelo secondo Matteo differs from other “Jesus” films in several ways. It is
not simply a biographical portrayal of Jesus that harmonizes the four gospels; Paso-
lini took the Gospel of Matthew as a rough screenplay. It is also not an “epic” film;
most of the miracles are neglected in the narration. Jesus’ holiness does not come
from his performance of miracles but rather from the power of his words. Last, the
rhetoric is balanced by an extended and iconographic use of closeup images. In
order to achieve greater authenticity, no professional actors were used in the film.
Pasolini does diverge from the Gospel of Matthew on one point: Pasolini
places Mary, Jesus’ mother, at the crucifixion—a detail reported in the Gospel of
John, not the Gospel of Matthew. Some have argued that this deviation from the
text is based on Pasolini’s secular understanding of the uniqueness of the Passion;
namely, that suffering is a universal experience that can best be represented by the
particular pain of a mother watching her son die. Pasolini radicalized this concept
by having his own mother play Mary.
As with “La ricotta,” Il vangelo secondo Matteo attracted some controversy.
Neofascist youth violently attacked its screening at the Venice Film Festival, and
the jury of the International Catholic Cinema Organization (today known as Signis)
was repudiated by the Catholic hierarchy because it awarded a prize to the film.
Many film critics have interpreted Il vangelo secondo Matteo as a sort of Marx-
ist gospel, an assertion that is only partially true. In part, the film reflects some of
the pronouncements of the Second Vatican Council. Indeed, Pasolini was a Marxist;
still, he was not the only one among his contemporaries who considered Christianity
 Pasolini, Pier Paolo | 349

and Marxism to be not only compatible but also closely correlated. For many, both
Marx’s political philosophy and Jesus’ teachings were a means of liberation for the
poor; Catholic liberation theologians specifically had drawn on Marx’s philoso-
phy. Seeming to understand the nature of these controversies, Pasolini dedicated
Il vangelo secondo Matteo to the recently deceased Pope John XXIII.
The relationship between Marxism and Christianity is more conscious in Pa-
solini’s next film Uccellacci e uccellini (The Hawks and the Sparrows, 1966). Part
morality play, part fairy tale, and part road movie, Uccellacci e uccellini tells the
story of a pilgrimage of a father and his younger son through human poverty in the
Roman suburbs. They share their journey with a talking crow, who is presented as a
leftist intellectual in the era before the death of the Italian Communist leader Palm-
iro Togliatti. The crow tells them a story of St. Francis, where two of his disciples
are sent by the saint to evangelize sparrows and hawks. After a long time and great
effort, they finally succeed, but then a hawk eats a sparrow. When the two friars
tell their leader that the “class of sparrows” cannot agree with the “class of hawks,”
St. Francis quotes Karl Marx’s Capital (1867–1894) to illustrate that it is possible.
Back in the present, father and son, not understanding the crow’s tale, continue
their journey, behaving cruelly toward those who owe them money and in a cow-
ardly way toward those who claim money from them. In the middle of the film,
the narration is suspended while original footage of Togliatti’s funeral is inserted,
with thousands of people mourning, holding their red flags, making the sign of
the cross, and praying for the Communist leader. With this footage Pasolini shows
once again that the link between Marxism and Christianity (Roman Catholicism,
in particular) is not one of his provocative inventions but part of Italian contem-
porary history. After Togliatti’s death, the talking crow meets its own death; father
and son decide to eat it, since “if we don’t eat him, someone else will do it.”
Pasolini’s later films do not have as direct a religious theme but focus more
on politics and morals/amorality, bringing the viewer from bourgeois decadence
in Teorema (Theorem, 1968) to earthly hell in Salò, o le centoventi giornate di
Sodoma (Salò—The 120 Days of Sodom, 1975). The church is always present in
his movies, yet it is not considered different from any other source of power: this
is quite explicit in Salò, o le centoventi giornate di Sodoma, where a high priest
is—with a nobleman, a judge, and a capitalist—one of the lords of power and
violence.
However, in two scripts that he wrote but were never produced, Pasolini main-
tained his interest in religion: San Paolo (written between 1968 and 1974) and
Porno-Teo-Kolossal (written in 1975). San Paolo is both an interesting exegetical
work and an extremely controversial project. The story is set in the 20th century;
the Apostle Paul visits cities that bear different names from those in Acts but that
serve similar functions: New York replaces Rome as the center of the empire, Paris
replaces Jerusalem as the cultural center, Rome replaces Athens as the historical
350 | The Passion of the Christ Controversy

center, London replaces Antioch as the capital of an earlier empire, and, naturally,
the Atlantic Ocean takes the place of the Mediterranean. The provocation comes
with the interaction of two elements: 20th-century roles for first-century charac-
ters. For example, Paul cooperates with the Nazi regime and is responsible of the
execution of Stephen, a partisan; Paul then converts and becomes the champion of
his former enemies. The dialogue is taken directly from the New Testament, which
is considered a rough screenplay, just as with Il vangelo secondo Matteo. The San
Paolo project presents the church as a powerful establishment, with Paul as the
great intellectual who has transformed a good faith into a dogmatic church.
Porno-Teo-Kolossal is closer to Uccellacci e uccellini; it is another fairy tale/
road movie, telling the story of a contemporary wise man from Naples who is
following a star (or comet) that is heading north and then east. This project was
discontinued at the end of 1975 when Pasolini was killed in an abandoned football
pitch at the seaside Roman suburb of Ostia; the reasons and circumstances of his
death are still not fully clear. Inspired by Porno-Teo-Kolossal, Pasolini’s friend
Sergio Citti directed I magi randagi (We Free Kings) in 1996.
Peter Ciaccio
See also: Catholicism; Europe (Continental); Fellini, Federico; Jesus.

Further Reading
Cootsona, Greg. “Jesus the God of Justice and Compassion in Pasolini’s The Gospel
According to Matthew.” Radix 23, no. 1 (1994): 8–9, 26.
Maggi, Armando. The Resurrection of the Body: Pier Paolo Pasolini from Saint Paul to
Sade. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2009.
Pasolini, Pier Paolo. Heretical Empiricism. Washington, DC: New Accademia Publishing,
2005.
Rohdie, Sam. The Passion of Pier Paolo Pasolini. Bloomington: Indiana University Press,
1996.
Testa, Bart. “To Film a Gospel . . . and Advent of the Theoretical Stranger.” In Pier Paolo
Pasolini: Contemporary Perspectives, edited by Patrick Rumble and Bart Testa, 180–
209. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1994.

The Passion of the Christ Controversy

Mel Gibson’s film The Passion of the Christ (2004) was not merely a cinemato-
graphic event—an independently produced film by a controversial director that
grossed more than $400 million in the United States, depicting the crucifixion of
 The Passion of the Christ Controversy | 351

Jesus and thus joining a long line of films dealing with the life and death of the
Christian savior—but also a major episode in American religious culture that year,
as the public controversy it generated was split deeply along religious lines.
The controversy began slowly and took unexpected turns. Gibson’s personal
views were regarded with suspicion by many in the Jewish community, and his
religious views generated considerable discomfort among post–Vatican II Roman
Catholics. When word of Gibson’s interest on making the film spread, alarm bells
went off among Jewish organizations already concerned about rising levels of
Islamic anti-Semitism and marked increases in European anti-Semitism. Jew-
ish spokesmen such as the Anti-Defamation League’s Abraham Foxman and the
Simon Wiesenthal Center’s Rabbi Marvin Hier expressed concern that the film
would depict the Jews as crucifiers of Christ and reinvigorate pre–Vatican II por-
trayals of the crucifixion.
Based on earlier experiences and upon the etiquette of inter-religious civility,
representatives of the organized Jewish community presumed that Gibson would
meet with them and attempt to find common ground; they did not believe that
they needed to pay attention to Gibson’s deeply personal cinematic vision or to
the theological competition between traditionalists and post–Vatican II Catho-
lics. In short, they misread the situation. Gibson simply chose not to meet with
consultants who were not of his own choosing. His defenders counterattacked
skillfully and imaginatively, working through conservative media outlets, sympa-
thetic newspapers, clergy, and, especially, the increasingly popular Internet. They
were supported by conservative church officials and those aligned politically with
evangelists, including some of their Jewish supporters. The film, they argued, was
not anti-Semitic; instead, the attacks were anti-Christian. The more that Jewish
spokespersons protested, the stronger the “defense” of Christianity against its “at-
tackers.” When officials involved specifically in Jewish-Catholic relations at the
United States Conference of Catholic Bishops expressed concern, Gibson turned
the tables, and accused them of stealing the script that had been willingly given to
them by his own subordinates.
These attacks allowed Gibson to perceive himself—and be perceived by
others—as a martyr and hero. Like the figure he strove to represent, Gibson could
see himself and be seen by others as being crucified by the Jews. Unintentionally,
the perception of Hier, Foxman, and others helped elevate the film to front-page
news, so much so that a satiric cover of the Los Angeles Jewish Journal had Gib-
son announce that he had hired Foxman as his publicist for his upcoming film.
The debate over The Passion revealed and widened broad fissures in American
society, with potentially lasting cultural consequences. Both the marketing cam-
paign for The Passion of the Christ and the debate over the film demonstrate that
the fault line in American Christianity is not between Protestants and Catholics,
352 | The Passion of the Christ Controversy

nor indeed between evangelical and mainline Protestants, but between messianic
progressives and pietistic conservatives. Messianic progressives are commit-
ted to realizing the Kingdom of Heaven on earth; pietistic conservatives pursue
an inner-oriented separation /isolation from the “wider world” that is deeply
individualistic—even atomistic—at its core. Gibson’s Passion is a pæan to pietis-
tic conservatism, and its critics were mostly messianic progressives disappointed
by its detachment from the world.
Led by figures like Rick Warren, Ted Haggard, and Franklin Graham, evangeli-
cals demonstrated their cultural and consumer power. The Passion’s remarkable
financial success—nearly $400 million gross in the United States alone—was due
largely to an unprecedented campaign by evangelicals not only to deliver theatrical
audiences who were unaccustomed to attending R-rated movies, but also to keep
the film in the media spotlight. Controversy became a marketing tool. In this latter
effort, evangelicals demonstrated their political savvy as well when they perceived
themselves as “attacked” by the film’s critics and joined forces with traditionalist
and conservative Catholics to defend their religious worldview.
Retrenchment—on the left and the right—led to exclusivist, mutually recrimi-
nating positions on the film that made reasoned debate almost impossible, as op-
ponents drowned each other out with competing narratives of “victimization” and
“pariah” status. The Passion’s Jewish critics were portrayed as “anti-Christian,”
and the film’s defenders were portrayed as potentially murderous anti-Semites. In
the end, many Jews were so offended that they were unable to appreciate the maj-
esty of the film, while many Christians were so moved by the film’s narrative that
they could not see the depiction of the Jews through non-Christian eyes.
Paradoxically, however, fundamentalist polarization generated a backlash
among those committed to the uniquely American practice of interreligious
civility despite political and religious disagreements. The “Passion panel”—a
community-based event that was often held at local mainline churches or estab-
lishment synagogues—became a phenomenon in its own right, typically featuring
a priest, a minister, and a rabbi, with a college professor often added for good
measure. The more sophisticated panels also included an evangelical or conserva-
tive Catholic representative to “defend” the film. Such conversations not only rein-
forced local and regional cultural bonds of goodwill, but also created connections
where none had existed before. Even panelists who found The Passion divisive
nonetheless praised it for kick-starting civic dialogue.
From the outset, The Passion most likely was a losing proposition for the
American Roman Catholic Church to the extent that the film both reflected and
highlighted Gibson’s traditionalist Catholicism and very publicly aired the ongo-
ing conflict among opponents and defenders of the Second Vatican Council. For
an episcopate that had recently been battered on fronts both moral (the pedophilia
scandal) and political (the debate over providing communion to “pro-choice”
 The Passion of the Christ Controversy | 353

political candidates), the Passion episode seems to have opened a new losing theo-
logical battle. Gibson took the offensive and for a time amplified his own views so
loudly that the institutional church could not be heard. The problem for the church
was exacerbated by a “did he or did he not?” mystery of a papal endorsement,
exposing a less-than-certain command of the curia by the ailing Pope John Paul II.
During a papacy otherwise marked by doctrinal confidence, the vacuum left room
for widely disparate, even contradictory “official statements” about the movie.
The announcement in the spring of 2004 concerning the forthcoming beatification
of Sister Anne Catherine Emmerich, a traditionalist icon whose purported visions
inspired scenes in the film, was interpreted by many as a concession to Gibson
and his allies. One also wonders whether the reinstatement by Pope Benedict of
the Latin mass was also not a concession to traditionalists and an attempt to bring
them back into the mainstream fold. The success of the Passion film, especially in
European and Latin American countries, gave the Vatican a startling portrait of the
persistence of Tridentine Catholicism.
Despite the rhetoric of the “most important evangelism opportunity in 2,000
years,” and despite Gibson’s own assertion that the film was for “the unchurched,”
recent studies suggest that The Passion turned few nonbelievers into Christians,
let alone evangelical ones. The film itself did not deal with Jesus as a teacher and
preacher but merely with the anguish of his last hours. To Jews accustomed to
Holocaust films, such suffering had diminished impact. On the political front, a
promising alliance of evangelicals with those American Jews who shared their
hawkish views on Israel came under threat as the debate over the film forced seri-
ous theological disagreements to the fore—and weakened the credibility of their
cheerleaders in the Jewish community.
The Passion controversy showed that the religious fault lines in American
society are deeper and more complex than the liberal–conservative or metro–rural
divide; a conflict between world-affirming activism—whether by evangelicals or
by ecumenicals—and an individualistic pietism that seeks separation and purifica-
tion from a decadent culture.
Michael Berenbaum and J. Shawn Landres
See also: Bible Films; Catholicism; Jesus; Judaism; The Last Temptation of
Christ Controversy; Missionary Films.

Further Reading
Boys, Mary C. “ ‘I Didn’t See Any Anti-Semitism’: Why Many Christians Don’t Have a
Problem with The Passion of the Christ.” Cross Currents 54, no. 1 (2004): 8–15.
Burnham, Jonathan, ed. Perspectives on The Passion of the Christ: Religious Thinkers and
Writers Explore the Issues Raised by the Controversial Movie. New York: Miramax, 2004.
354 | Posthumanism

Fredriksen, Paula, ed. On The Passion of the Christ: Exploring the Issues Raised by the
Controversial Movie. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2006.
Garber, Zev, ed. Mel Gibson’s Passion: The Film, the Controversy, and Its Implications.
West Lafayette, IN: Purdue University Press, 2006.
Landres, J. Shawn, and Michael Berenbaum, eds. After The Passion is Gone: American
Religious Consequences. Walnut Creek, CA: AltaMira, 2004.
Plate, S. Brent. Re-viewing The Passion: Mel Gibson’s Film and Its Critics. New York:
Palgrave/ Macmillan, 2004.

Posthumanism

Posthuman has emerged as a term signifying the potential next step in human evo-
lution. Posthumans are generally represented in film as superheroes, cyborgs, or
androids, though in some cases aliens, artificially intelligent computers, and non-
humanlike robots could be considered posthuman. For our purposes, however,
posthumans are considered with reference to how such characters as superheroes,
cyborgs, and androids challenge us, their present human viewers, to rethink our
own engagement with technology and our own pre-established notions of self,
world, and community.
Although posthuman imagery and discourse does reflect postmodern concerns
such as the loss of identity, the uncertainty of knowledge, and the unraveling of
metanarratives, it is the unique role played by technology in the posthuman imagi-
nation that distinguishes the posthuman from the postmodern. Posthuman fiction
and philosophy depend upon technology to facilitate the creation of speculated
posthuman entities. Generally, technology is used in two ways: posthumans are
created when either a present human has a transforming encounter that ushers him
or her into a posthuman state (cyborgs, superheroes), or when technology is used
to create humanlike posthuman beings such as androids or replicants.
Because posthuman themes are used across a variety of disciplines, the term’s
definition is nuanced. In one form, reflected most dramatically in film and fiction,
the posthuman is defined through images of cyborgs, androids, and superheroes that
reflect technology’s potential for creating beings that function as successor species
to present humans, and technologies are used to reveal the blurry line between what
separates humans from the posthuman, calling into question established notions of
humanity. The second, related definition, used primarily in philosophy, employs
the image of the posthuman to critique a humanist philosophical agenda arguing
that the individual is the autonomous center of his or her own world, able to arrive
at meaning and value based on the unique nature of human reason. The posthuman
 Posthumanism | 355

response argues that humanity never has been and never will ever be the center
of its own self-created world. For the posthuman, humanity is not constituted by
reason or divinely given superiority over nature. Instead, the human and the post-
human alike are emergent beings which arise from complex webs of material and
cultural sources; the definition of humanity is always open for constant reinter-
pretation. Posthuman theory, when seen as a critique of humanism, understands
human being and human destiny as a product of culture and technology. For the
posthuman theorist, the human–technology relationship is indicative of the whole
of human cultural and biological evolution; although the term posthuman is often
employed symbolically, the idea is materially embodied within the speculative sci-
ences, where nanotechnology, bioengineering, and even information technology
are viewed as steps towards the fulfillment of a very real posthuman destiny.
Although the theme of the posthuman has become increasingly prevalent,
some argue that its earliest representations can be traced to the myth of the Golem
of Prague or the late Enlightenment fascination with mechanical automata. In
early science fiction film, the idea of an artificial person as posthuman being ap-
pears as early as Fritz Lang’s Metropolis (1927), where the masters of Metropolis
seek to subvert the workers’ liberation movement by replacing their leader with a
mechanical replacement programmed to do their will.
The most commonly recognized religious significance of posthuman themes
relates to the challenge they pose to traditional Christian understanding of person-
hood. The Christian creation myth describes the creation of humanity as the direct
result of divine activity. God’s creative word breathes humanity into existence,
making man and woman living souls. The relationship between humanity and God
is described in terms of the image of God, a doctrine arguing that humanity is
uniquely endowed by God with what is variously interpreted as human intellectual
capacity, the human role as the ruler and manager of creation, or the human poten-
tial for sociality. St. Paul describes salvation as tantamount to the restoration of the
broken image in humanity to a more complete image made available by Christ’s
redemptive work. The loss or damage of the original divine image in Christianity
is the result of human perdition. The restoration of this image is possible only by
the activity of divine grace. The posthuman understanding of a self without divine
creation, and its implicit belief in human perfectibility through human technol-
ogy, stands in stark contrast with this Christian understanding. By making human
activity (technology and culture) the principle mark by which authentic humanity/
posthumanity is realized, posthuman ideology offers a purely immanent (as op-
posed to transcendent) interpretation of what constitutes a human being.
Themes relating to posthumans can be traced to the very early history of film.
Like contemporary posthuman films, the narratives they depicted—through basic
set design and rudimentary special effects—explored the complicated relationships
356 | Posthumanism

between humans, society, and technologies. Yet the affect of such films was se-
verely hampered by their limited capacity for special effects with extant cinemato-
graphic technologies. Today, posthumans in film are portrayed in an increasingly
convincing manner through the use of advanced technologies. The close knitting
of filmic technologies within postmodern science fiction has been considered by
many to be the hallmark of the genre. The technologies depicted in posthuman
films often mimic the film technologies used to represent them. In American cin-
ema in particular, the use of new electronic technologies in the content, produc-
tion, distribution, and exhibition aspects of the industry has made them a means of
articulating a new and highly technological experience. Contemporary postmod-
ern science fiction films alter viewers’ perceptions of space, time, and depth and
thereby complicate their interpretation of the now, the here, and the self. This form
of self-estrangement is most pronounced with regard to the cinematic portrayal of
otherness through the creation of artificial forms of sentient life.
Furthermore, the posthuman is a particularly apt subject for visual representa-
tion because so many of the technologies described as the means of creating the
posthuman (nuclear energy, nanotechnology, genetic engineering, information
technologies) are themselves visually abstracted. Both nanotechnology and genetic
engineering deal with objects so infinitesimally small that, apart from visual repre-
sentation, the development and application of such technologies would be impos-
sible. The converse problem arises in the face of nuclear energy, where the release
of energy is so great that it is only through mediation (either in the form of video
equipment, protective optics, or instrumentation) that this force can be measured,
observed, or recorded. Furthermore, with the advent of graphic user interfaces for
personal computers, information technology has become—in the public eye—an
industry that is synonymous with video displays and visual manipulation.
We can identify three types of portrayals of the posthuman and examine how
posthumans as superheroes, cyborgs, and androids uniquely compel the viewer
to imagine the place of the posthuman within their own social matrix, described
below in terms of the posthuman as “me” (superheroes), the posthuman as “they”
(androids), and the posthuman as “you” (cyborgs).
Although superheroes are not typically classified as posthumans, they are,
according to one of the definitions given above, transformed through an encoun-
ter with technology, and it is clear that filmic superheroes such as Spider-Man,
Daredevil, and the Hulk—through their technologically mediate transformations
from the so-called little guy to the superhero—exhibit key posthuman traits. These
three characters are reluctant posthumans, whose plights are depicted as struggles
between their old self-understanding as normal and their new self-understanding
as super (or post-) human. Prior to their transformations, Spider-Man, Daredevil,
and the Hulk are portrayed as having lived relatively normal lives, complete with
 Posthumanism | 357

relationships, jobs, and even disabilities. In the opening scenes of Spider-Man

(2002), Peter Parker is characterized as a puny, geeky, uncoordinated high school
student whose unrequited love of Mary Jane Watson is emphasized by the pres-
ence of her much larger, stronger, and more popular football-playing boyfriend.
The back story of the Hulk (2003) reveals the complicated origins of the young
Bruce Banner, whom we later discover is the orphaned son of a mad scientist bent
on filicide. In Daredevil (2003), Matt Murdock becomes the “man without fear”
only after having been driven by his fear of bullies into the shipping yard where
he encounters the toxic waste that robs him of his sight. In all three cases, the “not
yet” superhero appears as the archetypal underdog, exhibiting characteristics of
weakness, clumsiness, and perhaps poverty or an unstable family background.
These traits make such characters infinitely identifiable to the viewers, who see
in the weakness of their onscreen heroes the same weaknesses they recognize in
themselves. Each undergoes his posthuman transformation through some unfore-
seen (and importantly unpursued) encounter with technology. Through technol-
ogy, they are endowed with powers and abilities that enable them to overcome
their own natural human limitations. Yet, ambiguously, many of their pre-existing
personal challenges still remain. Peter Parker—though given a new athletic phy-
sique, perfect vision, and the many superpowers that accompany his Spider-Man
persona—must still wrestle with his public image. In the case of Spider-Man 2
(2004), he finds that his still unrequited love for Mary Jane Watson prevents him
from realizing his full potential as a successful crime fighter. In Hulk, when Bruce
Banner takes on the personality of his posthuman alter ego, he does so only at
the cost of the very human ability to control his own raw emotions. The posthu-
man superhero provides an example of a character who has embraced the negative
potential of technology and subverted it by transforming into something that is
ultimately redemptive. Thus, the posthuman as me presents a narrative that en-
courages the viewer to embrace and seek out a form of redemption in his or her
own interactions with contemporary technologies. Technology, even in its most
seemingly corrupt manifestations, is shown to reveal its ambiguity through the
superhero’s (and therefore one’s own) transformation.
The posthuman in film is also expressed as otherness. Whereas the superhero
construction relies upon a first person realization of a superhero’s posthuman des-
tiny, the cyborg construction explores issues relating to one’s relationship with
posthuman beings. In other words, themes pertaining to posthuman otherness rely
more upon the depiction of one’s relationship to posthumanity than to one’s identi-
fication with posthumanity. The posthuman as “they” and “you” evokes the theme
of alienation, a topic explored across a wide range of postmodern films. For ex-
ample, through encounters with grandly apocalyptic scenarios, one is faced with
questions regarding alienation from existence (that is, death); through depictions of
358 | Posthumanism

virtual reality, one is faced with questions about alienation from culture—The Ma-
trix trilogy (The Matrix [1999]; The Matrix Reloaded [2003]; The Matrix Revolu-
tions [2003]) is a good example here—and through images of the robot, the cyborg,
and the android, one is faced with questions regarding alienation from the self.
There are two types of relationships to posthuman beings that evoke this theme of
self-alienation. The third-person relationship (posthumans as “they,” androids) can
be described as a relation of resemblance, whereas the second-person relationship
(posthumans as “you,” or cyborgs) can be described as a relation of similitude. For
philosopher Michel Foucault, relations of resemblance imply sameness between
parties but are demonstrated and communicated across difference. They are hierar-
chical and require the subordination of one party in the face of the other. Relations
of similitude, on the other hand, assert difference but speak across sameness. These
relations are nonhierarchical and encourage mutuality.
In posthuman science fiction, the image of the android operates under the ru-
bric of relations resemblance. They are a true “they” who appear similar to the
human but distinct in ways that tend to threaten humanity. One could note the
plight of the android boy David in Steven Spielberg’s Artificial Intelligence: AI
(2001), who is ultimately rejected by the Swinton family because, by compari-
son with their biological son, David is never able to seem as authentic as a real
boy. Indeed, the more humanlike the posthuman android, the more problematic the
human–android relationship becomes. In films as diverse as Blade Runner (1982)
and I, Robot (2004), increasingly humanlike androids are met with increased ob-
jection to their integration into the fabric of human society.
Relations of resemblance serve to emphasize the otherness of the android,
who appears uncanny—that is, as both strangely familiar and strangely foreign.
We relate to such an entity by emphasizing the privileged nature of what consti-
tutes authentic humanity. In Blade Runner, the human is emphasized by its unique
ability to express empathy, yet this certainty is undermined by the film’s reluc-
tance to indicate whether or not the protagonist is a replicant. In I, Robot, human-
ity is defined by its apparent free will and its ability to choose right and wrong.
The robots, in contrast, are restricted by three laws that control their behavior,
making them the de facto slaves of humanity. Yet when one character is given
the ability to question the laws, the unique purview of human freedom is put into
doubt. In AI, humanity is apparently defined as that species that can uniquely
differentiate between self and other. This is highlighted by the objectification of
sentient (and notably, feeling) android life in the “Flesh Fair,” where robots are
destroyed for human pleasure. In all three cases, relations of resemblance allow
humans to distance themselves from their posthuman creations. Yet, the plot twists
that accompany these films force the viewer to reassess the relationship’s valid-
ity. This points to the uncertainty of human creativity; it also gives one pause
to examine the human ability to unquestionably subjugate any “other,” whether
 Posthumanism | 359

natural, technological, or fellow human. Although the relationship of resemblance

advanced early in such films would advocate a harsh judgment against human tech-
nology, the later subversion of the hierarchy leads to the possibility of similitude.
In I, Robot, for example, the protagonist Del Spooner lives with a superhuman
prosthetic limb that was made by the same man who designed the robots Spooner
fights during the film’s action sequences. In AI, the film’s controversial ending de-
picts the resurrection of the android boy David by a posthuman successor species
in a future devoid of biological human life. After reviving David, they absorb his
memories into their collective consciousnesses, taking from him the only contact
that this species has had with biological humanity. In the first case, Del Spooner
becomes a cyborg because android technology is integrated into his body; in the
second, David becomes a cyborg (rather than an android) because his unique expe-
rience of humanity transforms him into something other than a machine. When the
boundary between the human and the posthuman becomes confused, the hierarchy
necessitated by relations of resemblance begins to collapse.
Relations of similitude, unlike relations of resemblance, present images of
posthumans who are not like us but who are us. Cyborgs are a “you,” not a “they.”
They cannot be dismissed as something beneath one’s own image, because implied
within cyborg logic is the notion that all beings share in the same kind of hybrid
origin that cyborgs call their own. Unlike the relation of resemblance that androids
encourage, cyborgs and their relations of similitude prohibit those with whom they
relate from imposing upon them any form of subordination or hierarchy. Through
a relationship of similitude, all parties are equal. Although, from the perspective
of the cyborg, all share in a common cyborg nature, their story fails to compel the
viewer into the same kind of relationship of identification that was encouraged by
the superhero. Theirs is an imposed image driven by their intentional adaptation
of technology rather than a compelled image driven by one’s sense of familiarity
with the posthuman (superhero) character.
In recent films, cyborgs have been represented in two distinct ways. Initially,
cyborg characters were represented as muscle-bound action heroes who appeared
completely human, although their intellect and superhuman strength came from
technological body modifications. Films like The Terminator (1984), RoboCob
(1987), Cyborg (1989), Hardware (1990), and Eve of Destruction (1991) play
on the idea of the action figure as cyborg, who embodies the potential dangers
portrayed as inherent within a human–machine synthesis. Toward the end of the
1990s, the image of the cyborg underwent a radical transformation, as the tanned,
sweaty, muscular killing machines of the late 1980s were replaced by slim and
pale computer hackers, a transition (seen in such films as Johnny Mnemonic
[1996], Strange Days [1995], Hackers [1995], Virtuousity [1995], The Net [1995],
The Matrix trilogy, and Cypher [2002]), from cyborg body to cyborg mind, where
through expanded consciousnesses (and not expanded muscles) one embraces the
360 | Posthumanism

cyborg ethos. Cyberthrillers, influenced by cyberpunk fiction and the economics

of the burgeoning “dot-com” era, moved away from the depiction of the cyborg
as a force of disruption in this world to the cyborg as the force of order that is im-
posed upon the corrupt systems. The technological novelty of the early 1980s was
no longer the dream of a obsequious robotic/cybernetic companion but of a life
lived online in the hive-mind of cyberspace.
The posthuman as cyborg is an image that explores the loss of control in the
face of technology. Whether it is the destruction of personal will in the form of a
RoboCop, the controlling power of the ubiquitous Matrix, or the corporate brain-
washing depicted in Cypher, cyberthrillers and their cyborgs grapple with the very
postmodern concern that, within a complex networked world, personal will and
control are illusions that are quickly dissipating. Through the image of the cyborg,
posthuman science fiction films have provided narrative and image to the confu-
sion, diffusion, helplessness, and hybridization endemic to postmodernism. Unlike
the cyberthrillers of the 1980s and early 1990s, which played on this instability
through the image of the dominating cyborg, the cyberthrillers of the later 1990s
attempt to define life through cybernetic existence by giving over to the hybrid na-
ture of the networked self. In this way, the relations of similitude portrayed in such
films—which depict cyborgs ranging from the forcefully assimilating Borg Queen
of Star Trek: Nemesis (2002) to the cyborg-like Morgan Sullivan in Cypher—offer
viewers a means of reflecting on their own entanglement within the cybernetic
systems of contemporary life.
The posthuman comes to us in film to challenge our given assumptions about
what it means to be human, to live in the world, and to exist alongside others and
alongside technology. Posthuman films call the viewer to actively question his or
her passive acceptance of the status quo and to pursue, through the fictional imagi-
nation on screen, new modes of being in the world. For religions of the West, the
challenge is to reinterpret traditional ways of describing self-knowledge in light of
a changing culture and to challenge cultural modes of self-description while keep-
ing in consideration the provenance of divine grace.
Michael W. DeLashmutt
See also: Dystopia; End-of-the-World Films; The Matrix Trilogy; Science
Fiction; Superheroes.

Further Reading
Badmington, Neil, ed. Posthumanism: Readers in Cultural Criticism. New York: Palgrave,
2000.
Bukatman, Scott. Terminal Identity: The Virtual Subject in Post-Modern Science Fiction.
Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1998.
 Protestantism | 361

Hayles, N. Katherine. How We Became Posthuman: Virtual Bodies in Cybernetics, Litera-

ture and Informatics. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1999.
Wiener, Norbert. God & Golem, Inc.: A Comment on Certain Points Where Cybernetics
Impinges on Religion. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1964.
Wood, Gaby. Living Dolls: A Magical History of the Quest for Mechanical Life. London:
Faber and Faber, 2002.

Protestantism

Because of the cultural prominence of the Protestant tradition in America, Protes-

tant themes, characters, and institutions have figured prominently in mainstream
American cinema. The resulting representations have varied widely.
Protestantism is part of the larger theistic and Christian traditions but also a
specific manifestation of those traditions. Some films contain generically theistic
themes but are not particularly—or at least not distinctively—Protestant. Thus, for
example, even though the female lead in Vanilla Sky (2001) asks the male lead,
“Do you believe in God?” this important theme is generically theistic and not
specifically Protestant. Similarly, Schindler’s List (1993) introduces an important
Christian representation when a group of otherwise anonymous benefactors an-
nounce that their Christian faith has motivated them to feed the starving Jewish
internees on a Nazi train. Such representations are generically Christian and thus
outside the scope of this article, which focuses only upon characters and institu-
tions that are distinctively Protestant rather than common property of the larger
Christian or theistic traditions.
Most Protestant denominations have internal media arms to create films that
chronicle their history, celebrate the saints and leaders of their tradition, and pro-
mote their contemporary work. Such films are intended both for internal distri-
bution to the denomination’s congregations and for release to other interested
parties; they often border on propaganda. Protestant denominations and traditions
also commonly work in conjunction with external production companies in order
to gain a broader audience for their distinctive messages. Such films seldom have
significant commercial success, but a few recent films have garnered broader at-
tention. Various Lutheran organizations funded Luther (2003), a “biopic” (bio-
graphical film) of Martin Luther. The film was a nuanced portrayal of Luther’s
life and work produced in such a way that even non-Lutherans could appreciate
it. In the same genre, the portrayal of the death of pacifist Protestant missionar-
ies in The End of the Spear (2005) was based on true events and gained modest
success in the mainstream market, as did the less romanticized Amazing Grace
362 | Protestantism

(2006), a story based on the life of William Wilberforce, the 18th-century Protes-
tant abolitionist.
An older film, A Man Called Peter (1955), provided an idealized account of
the rise of Peter Marshall, a Presbyterian minister, to the chaplaincy of the U.S.
Senate, while Sergeant York (1941), an even older biopic, portrayed the evangeli-
cal Alvin C. York’s journey from pacifist to the most decorated soldier of World
War I. York’s story was the most successful Protestant biopic until the release of
the critically acclaimed Chariots of Fire (1981), which portrayed Eric Liddell,
a devout 1920s era Presbyterian and an Olympian, who was willing to forfeit
his Olympic dream in order to remain true to his conviction against competing
on Sunday. Apart from Sergeant York and Chariots of Fire, Protestant true-to-life
biopics and historical dramas have not been particularly successful—either criti-
cally or popularly. Probably the most recent critical success in this genre was
Shadowlands (1993), in which Anthony Hopkins portrayed the prominent Protes-
tant thinker C. S. Lewis.
In a polar opposite genre, the Protestant tradition and Protestant characters
have often served as the foil in comedies and satires. This tradition of satire
and cynical comedy reached an early peak in the 1932 film Rain, which por-
trayed a shamed woman who flees “civilization” only to encounter a straitlaced,
temperance-obsessed Protestant missionary. Not even her self-imposed tropical
exile can spare her from her foe’s preoccupation with her conversion to Prot-
estant Christianity. Eventually, however, by wit, wiles, and superior ethics, she
outsmarts her would-be reformer. Comedy gave way to satire in two Academy
Award–winning films from 1960: Elmer Gantry and Inherit the Wind. The for-
mer poked fun at a manipulative and corrupt itinerant evangelist, while the latter,
a legal drama, reprimanded the ignorance and fanaticism that gave birth to the
antievolution fervor so common in fundamentalist Protestantism. More recently,
the same satirical attitude has been aimed at nondenomination evangelical tradi-
tions in Saved! (2004), and at Baptist traditions in The Big Kahuna (1999), while
O Brother, Where Art Thou? (2000) offered comedy without cynicism or satire.
Several films portray devout Protestants, particularly Protestant ministers,
as admirable characters. Such noble, God-fearing characters can be relied upon
for sound judgment, as is the case for the Irish Protestant minister who ad-
vises John Wayne’s character in The Quiet Man (1952). The portrayal of the
Protestant minister as an admirable character took an important turn in 1940,
when an African American minister served as the voice of conscience among
the otherwise all-white cast of the award-winning western The Ox-Bow Incident
(1943). However, the nobility of Protestant characters is not strictly limited to
ministers. In Casualties of War (1989), Michael J. Fox plays a Lutheran layman
who braves death threats from his peers and indifference from his superiors to
 Protestantism | 363

bring his fellow soldiers to justice for their rape and murder of a young Viet-
namese girl.
The intermingling of Protestantism and nationalism is fairly common, as Prot-
estants and Protestant ministers are also often depicted as loyal citizens and pa-
triotic Americans. Thus, in The Patriot (2000), Revolutionary War soldiers are
recruited within a Protestant church, just as Civil War soldiers are sought out in a
Protestant church in Shenandoah (1965). Both of these themes—trustworthiness
and zealous patriotism—are brought together in the Protestant minister in John
Ford’s western The Searchers (1956).
More negatively, Protestants and their ministers are sometimes portrayed as
puritanical and even hypocritical, like the Reverend Arthur Dimmesdale in the
1995 version of The Scarlet Letter or the Pentecostal pastor in There Will Be Blood
(2007). Similarly, in Brokeback Mountain (2005), the leading characters, who
struggle to come to grips with their sexual orientation, characterize their Meth-
odist and Pentecostal roots as hateful and hostile to their sexuality and person-
hood. In The Neon Bible (1995), a young man struggles to overcome the emotional
trauma inflicted upon him by the Protestant church of his youth.
Protestant faith is sometimes added to characters primarily to make them more
complex or mysterious. For example, a detective in Minority Report (2002) claims
to have attended Fuller Theological Seminary, perhaps the most influential Protes-
tant seminary in America. Similarly, the central character in Clint Eastwood’s Pale
Rider (1985) appears to be a Protestant preacher, even though the film provides
no clue about how his faith informs his violent behavior. In such films, Protes-
tant faith—and even Protestant ecclesiastical office and training—are personality
quirks that provide no real help for understanding the characters’ behavior and
motivations.
Some films are created to advocate a particular theological concern within
Protestantism. Left Behind: The Movie (2000) is based on Tim LaHaye and
Jerry Jenkins’s popular book series by the same name and strongly advocates
dispensational theology. Time Changer (2002), an equally disappointing film,
argues for a return to the white Anglo-Saxon Protestant–dominated culture of
the 19th century. Although produced for a niche market, films created for Af-
rican American churches have far surpassed films like Left Behind and Time
Changer in quality. The Gospel (2005), though unable to attract a broad au-
dience, was a realistic portrayal of a healthy Protestant congregation. King-
dom Come (2001) offered an insider’s perspective on the humorous aspects of
life in the African American church. With a major director and A-list actors,
The Preacher’s Wife (1996; a remake of the 1947 film The Bishop’s Wife) at-
tracted audiences outside of the African American community but had very
little critical success.
364 | Protestantism

A number of films have depicted the idealism of Protestant faith as it en-

counters the harsh realities of life in this world. The “peace” church traditions
have gained particular attention in this regard: in Friendly Persuasion (1956), Jess
Birdwell is a pacifist Protestant confronting the Civil War; in High Noon (1952),
a small-town sheriff just married to a pacifist Quaker woman must confront local
outlaws; and in Angel and the Bad Man (1947), Quirt Evens experiences at least
a partial conversion from violence when he falls in love with a Quaker woman.
In The African Queen (1951), Charlie Allnut is wooed away from sin and gin by
a Protestant missionary and temperance advocate. But a Protestant, Bible-toting,
temperance-preaching Eula is less successful in wooing Rooster Cogburn away
from drink in Rooster Cogburn (1975). In Witness (1985), Detective John Book
is sent to protect a child witness in an Amish community committed to Christian
nonviolence. In all of these films, a Protestant believer comes into close contact
with a worldly-wise outsider and together the duo face situations that challenge an
important tenet of the believer’s Protestant faith—normally nonviolence or tem-
perance. In each case, the sinner (usually a male) and the saint (usually a female)
join—often romantically—to face an outside threat. This shared experience of
threat typically results in a change of conviction on both sides.
A number of films depict Protestant believers and Protestant themes with a
perspective that encourages reflection from within a Protestant tradition. In A
River Runs Through It (1992), Reverend Maclean, a decidedly Presbyterian min-
ister who claims to regard Methodists “as Baptists who can read,” watches one of
his sons self-destruct and reflects upon the providence and election of God. In The
Poseidon Adventure (1972), two Protestant ministers debate the nature of divine
action: as direct intervention in answer to prayer or as human conduct motivated
by the teachings of Scripture. In The Apostle (1997), a holiness preacher struggles
with his inability to live up to the faith that he proclaims and believes. To End All
Wars (2001) suggests that another war will never bring an end to war, offering
instead a nonviolent Protestant theology forged by the experience of war itself.
Signs (2002) portrays a former Episcopalian minister reflecting upon the problem
of evil, while in Saints and Soldiers (2003), Deacon, a Protestant soldier, brings a
fellow soldier to faith by offering his own life as a sacrifice in his compatriot’s de-
fense. And a local Lutheran congregation demonstrates inclusive love in Lars and
the Real Girl (2007) when a dysfunctional young man begins cohabitating with
Bianca, a life-sized doll. Stanley Kramer’s socially conscious film On the Beach
(1959) features a Salvation Army preacher and band to promote his message that
there was still time to avoid a nuclear holocaust.
Representations of Protestants in film, therefore, have been quite varied. Prot-
estant characters and institutions have been represented in several different genres
of film, including comedies, biopics, and drama. These films have enjoyed varying
 Protestantism | 365

degrees of popular and critical success and have ranged in perspective from propa-
ganda to searing critique. However, a significant number of films have succeeded
in providing mature theological reflection on the various Protestant traditions.
Thomas E. Phillips
See also: Black Church, The; Catholicism; Clergy; Coen, Joel and Ethan;
End-of-the-World Films; Missionary Films; Westerns.

Further Reading
Phillips, Thomas E. “Finding the Wesleyan Needle in the Cinematic Haystack: Seeing
Sanctification in Contemporary Films.” Wesleyan Theological Journal 41, no. 2 (2006):
242–251.
Rendleman, Todd. “ ‘Evil’ Images in At Play in the Fields of the Lord: Evangelicals and
Representations of Sexuality in Contemporary Film.” Velvet Light Trap 46 (Fall 2000):
26–39.
Rendleman, Todd. “ ‘I Didn’t Need to See the Tattooed Lady Takin’ it Off’: Evangeli-
cals and Representations of Sexuality in Contemporary Film.” In Sex, Religion, Media,
edited by Dane S. Claussen, 91–99. Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield, 2002.
Romanowski, W. D. “John Calvin Meets the Creature from the Black Lagoon: The Dutch
Reformed Church and the Movies 1928–1966.” Christian Scholars’ Review 25, no. 1
(1995): 47–62.
Steiner, M. A. “The Humiliation of the Faith: Representation and Evangelical Christianity
in The Apostle.” Journal of Communication and Religion 24, no. 1 (2001): 94–109.
R

Ritual

In the popular mind, rituals are typically associated with religious ceremonies.
More broadly defined, rituals include the actions or observances that mark, in
symbolic ways, the most significant days, events, or transition points in a per-
son’s or a community’s life. The passage of time gains significance through ritual.
A community’s history is marked by shared experiences and momentous events,
with each observed event reaffirming its meaning and importance to the com-
munity. An individual’s passage through life—birth, puberty, graduation, mar-
riage, parenthood, death—is ritualized, symbolizing changes in social or family
standing.
Transformative experiences that occur outside family or community settings
are also attended by ritual. The most typical of these are the vision quest—taken
by an individual—and the pilgrimage, a journey taken by individuals or a group of
pilgrims to a holy site. Thus, although rites of passage are actions meant to sym-
bolize an individual’s changes in life and altered status within the group, the vision
quest and pilgrimage represent ritualized approaches to gaining access to sacred
power beyond the family and community.
At its essence, then, a ritual is a religious performance. The motions and
gestures that comprise ritual activity—waving a hand, crossing a threshold—
communicate meaning more profound than the actions themselves. The use of
natural elements adds to the meanings ritual actions can convey. As performances
connected to religious myths, customs, and beliefs, rituals re-enact events in either
somber or celebratory ways, mark periods of transformation for individuals or
groups, or imitate extraordinary acts—be they the deeds of gods, saints, or legend-
ary figures within the tradition. It is this performance aspect of ritual, as well as
its symbolic meaning, that lends itself ideally to film. Rituals are moving pictures
that frame and focus events, enabling the filmmaker to draw attention to the most
significant aspects of those experiences or events.

367
368 | Ritual

In speaking of ritual and film, one almost immediately thinks of films, both
dramatic and comedic, that depict weddings (Four Weddings and a Funeral [1994];
My Big, Fat Greek Wedding [2002]), funerals (The Big Chill [1983]; Unstrung He-
roes [1995]), baptisms (The Apostle [1997]; O Brother, Where Art Thou? [2000]),
a brit milah (ritual circumcision or bris) (Cours Toujours [Dad on the Run, 2000]),
a bar/bat mitzvah (Keeping the Faith [2000]), coming-of-age events (Quinceañera
[2006]), Catholic masses (Four Christmases [2008]), Sabbath observances (Fid-
dler on the Roof [1971]; The Chosen [1981]), revival meetings and faith healing
services (Leap of Faith [1992]; Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil [1997]),
and other common religious ceremonies. For example, in The Godfather (1972),
the Catholic baptism ceremony—in which the child’s godfather rejects the works
of Satan—is interspersed with scenes of his rivals being assassinated, presumably
by his order. The use of this initiation ritual symbolizes the passing of leadership
from father to son as well as the son’s acceptance of his place as paterfamilias—
his baptism by blood.
Outside the western tradition, most of the films that depict religious rituals—
especially weddings and individual rites of passage—tend less toward the comedic.
Typically, these films feature protagonists struggling to balance their desires to live
comfortably within the modern world with their religious and familial obligations.
Some of these films—by nonwesterners or simply depicting nonwestern cultures
and traditions—depict Buddhism (Kundun [1997]; Phörpa [The Cup, 1999]; Wo
de fu qin mu qin [The Road Home, 1999]; Bom yeoreum gaeul gyeoul geurigo bom
[Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter . . . and Spring, 2003]), Hinduism (Monsoon Wedding
[2001]; Bend It Like Beckham [2002]; Bride and Prejudice [2004]), and Islam
(Urs al-jalil [Wedding in Galilee, 1987]; Bab al-sama maftuh [A Door to the Sky,
1989]; Al qods fee yom akhar [Rana’s Wedding, 2002]). Both Malcolm X (1992)
and Le Grand Voyage (2004) depict the Hajj—the annual pilgrimage to Mecca a
Muslim male is enjoined to undertake at least once in his lifetime—with the vari-
ous rituals in and around Mecca.
Numerous films also depict native or indigenous religious rituals, including
Little Big Man (1970), the Australian film Walkabout (1971), Dances with Wolves
(1990), and Apocalypto (2006). In A Man Called Horse (1970), the protagonist
experiences the ritual of the Native American Sun Dance, while in Cabeza de Vaca
(1991), after capture by native Indians, the Spanish explorer learns native healing
rituals and becomes a respected shaman-healer. In an (albeit fictitious) example of
contemporary native religious ritual, the macabre Vietnam War film Apocalypse
Now (1979) ends by juxtaposing the assassination (ordered by the U.S. military) of
a rogue officer turned village god with the native villagers’ ritualized slaughter of a
water buffalo. Both the assassin’s victim and the buffalo seem to acquiesce to their
respective fates as they are ceremoniously hacked to pieces with machetes.
 Ritual | 369

Although one approach to understanding ritual and film is to analyze how

films depict religious rituals, another is to examine themes or plot lines that use
elements of ritual or are themselves a type of rite or ritual experience. Rituals mark
transformations; in a number of films, events mark a change in the main charac-
ter’s life. Often, such dramatic or marked changes coincide with the coming of age
of the main character—male or female—and correspond to that character’s pas-
sage from youth to adulthood. The plot line follows what French folklorist Arnold
van Gennep termed les rites de passage. In his work, van Gennep noted that such
rites unfold in a three-part process: separation, liminality, and reintegration into
society. Separation from society or from one’s current position in society begins
the transition from child to adulthood. Thus separated, the person is neither one
thing nor another but stands precariously in limbo—the liminal phase of the pro-
cess. Successful completion of the rite comes when new status is conferred upon
the person, now reintegrated into society, with all the rights and recognition that
new status brings.
In this analysis, liminality is the pivot point, supplying drama to the story.
The audience is held in suspense, wondering whether the hero or heroine will
succeed or fail. Will she overcome all odds to achieve the chosen task and prove
herself worthy? Although tests of character, trials, temptations, personal demons,
and other obstacles might damn lesser individuals to oblivion, the main character
demonstrates his or her heroic status by turning these obstacles to advantage. Still,
though successful transition from youth to adulthood might come traditionally
through heroic physical achievement such as victory in battle against overwhelm-
ing odds, more often than not, in a film, the main character’s success is reached in
a moment of self-reflective pause, through the discovery of a previously unknown
power or ability, or in a flash of insight through which the character achieves
Buddha-like enlightenment. Typical of most Hollywood films, however, is the plot
line in which an unlikely simpleton is transformed into a godlike being. He earns
the respect of all and wins the heart and hand of his female love interest, who has
gone through a miraculous metamorphosis of her own.
Perhaps the best-known film depicting a rite of passage from youth to adult-
hood as its story arc is Star Wars (1977), in which Luke Skywalker, a youthful and
impetuously naïve protagonist, leaves his home planet, encounters a variety of
obstacles in his attempt to rescue Princess Leia, and along the way discovers that
he possesses superhuman powers with which to fight and subdue the evil forces
in the universe. At the conclusion of the film, Skywalker is no longer an aimless
adolescent living on a back-galaxy planet but a legendary hero of the rebellion and
Jedi knight-in-training.
Beyond Star Wars, the variety of boy-to-man tales is endless and even in-
cludes Hook (1991), a rewritten version of the classic Peter Pan narrative. Disney’s
370 | Ritual

quasi-oedipal Peter Pan (1953) and its live-action remake Peter Pan (2003) are
among the most famous examples of the boy hero who, in a perpetual liminal state,
refuses to grow up. In Hook, Pan has left Neverland and entered the adult world as
Peter Banning, a corporate lawyer with wife and children. Having at last chosen to
follow the conventional path of marriage and career, his carefree days as Peter Pan
have faded from his memory. Still plotting revenge, however, is Captain Hook,
who kidnaps the Banning children and takes them to Neverland to use as bait to
trap Peter Pan. The adult Peter Banning is forced to return to Neverland—and the
liminality of being Peter Pan—to rescue his children from Hook’s clutches. To
save his children, Peter must learn to be a kid again. The film—and Peter’s rite
of passage—ends at London’s Kensington Gardens, with Peter Banning and a
woman-sized Tinker Bell standing beside the famous statue of Peter Pan, the adult
Peter vowing henceforth to be a better husband and more attentive father.
One dynamic in the original Peter Pan story often overlooked by filmmakers
is the rite of passage taken by Wendy Darling, the girl whose stories, told to her
two younger brothers in the nursery, prompts Pan’s initial visit. Though nearly
13, Wendy, in defiance of her father, refuses to leave the nursery; doing so would
signal the onset of adolescence and the beginning of her transition to womanhood.
Peter Pan invites Wendy to travel with him to Neverland, where she can become a
mother figure to the Lost Boys. She agrees but soon regrets it, especially after fall-
ing in love with a disinterested Peter Pan and then having to escape the treachery
of a violently jealous Tinker Bell. Although Pan wishes to remain a boy, Wendy
realizes that growing up is part of life, and as much as she might wish, she cannot
remain in the nursery forever. Womanhood and motherhood hold out a greater
hope of fulfillment than does perpetual childhood. Upon her return from Never-
land, Wendy completes her passage by agreeing to leave the nursery.
Although the girl-to-woman rite of passage is not as prevalent in films as are
boy-to-man tales, there are a fair number of films featuring this plot line. And
whereas the majority of male transformation tales involve the willful and ungov-
ernable boy accepting social responsibilities and gaining control over his emo-
tions, female rites of passage films tend to be a variation of the story of the ugly
duckling that is transformed into a graceful swan—or, in the hands of Hollywood
screenwriters, the transition from homely schoolgirl to sexy and sophisticated
debutante. This transformation narrative—based loosely on the 1913 George Ber-
nard Shaw play Pygmalion—is most obvious in My Fair Lady (1964) but can also
be seen in such classics as Little Women (1933, 1949), Sabrina (1954, 1995), Gigi
(1958), Gidget (1959), West Side Story (1961), The Sound of Music (1965), and
Thoroughly Modern Millie (1967).
One popular film that follows the ugly duckling tale is The Princess Diaries
(2001), in which an awkward and unpopular teenage girl suddenly and reluctantly
 Ritual | 371

discovers that she is the daughter and heir of the recently deceased crown prince
of Genovia. Her transition from commoner to royalty begins with a crash course
from her paternal grandmother, the dowager queen, on how to be a princess or
else forfeit her throne to a rival family. She succeeds, both in nobly taking her fa-
ther’s place as esteemed ruler and in remaining true to herself, her school friends,
and her blossoming idealism. Similarly, in Sixteen Candles (1984), a socially awk-
ward sweet-16-and-never-been-kissed teen gets her birthday wish by winning the
heart of the most popular boy in her high school, while in The Devil Wears Prada
(2006), an aspiring young journalist is transformed after becoming the personal
assistant of the demanding and domineering diva-in-chief of a fashion maga-
zine. Additional examples of films that feature women who are transformed from
weak, harried, or emotionally or physically disabled to strong, self-assured, and
resourceful women include Wait Until Dark (1967), Aliens (1986), Terminator 2:
Judgment Day (1991), and Cold Mountain (2003).
Some films play off the dated notion that a wild young woman needs a strong
man—who is either a type of father figure or a determined suitor—to rein her in,
a model based loosely on Shakespeare’s The Taming of the Shrew and found most
obviously in the musical comedy based on that play Kiss Me, Kate (1953). In the
disturbing comedy The Quiet Man (1952), a newly married man attempts to tame
his “bucking bronca” Irish bride, who takes her American husband for a coward.
Even The Sound of Music, identified above as an ugly duckling tale, might also
be considered a taming-of-the-shrew film, although in this case the “shrew” is
the very masculine retired Austrian naval captain Georg von Trapp, the widowed
father of seven children whom, in his grief, he orders around like so many powder
monkeys on a warship. Maria, a tomboy novice who has become a headache for
the nuns in the convent, is sent by the mother superior to become the new govern-
ess of von Trapp’s mischievous children. Through persistence and charm, Maria
tames the shrewish captain and becomes a surrogate mother to his children. Maria,
too, is transformed from tree-climbing novice to devoted second wife and beloved
stepmother.
Another aspect of ritual in film is the vision quest or pilgrimage, usually pre-
cipitated by a crisis event in the main character’s life or initiated by an outside cry
for help. In either case, the main character is called upon to journey to a distant
and unknown land, is usually aided by an odd assortment of individuals met along
the way, is given a variety of tasks to accomplish, and returns having fulfilled his
destiny. Examples of such journey films are diverse, and include such films as
The Wizard of Oz (1939); Powwow Highway (1989), a Native American road trip
and quest for identity; Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (1989), an adventure
film centered around a search for the Holy Grail; The Fisher King (1991), another
modern-day grail tale; As Good as It Gets (1997), about three neighbors taking an
372 | Ritual

unlikely road trip; Smoke Signals (1998), about two late-adolescent male Coeur
d’Alene Indians on a modern-day quest; and The Lord of the Rings trilogy (The
Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring [2001]; The Lord of the Rings: The
Two Towers [2002]; The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King [2003]) as well
as comedies like Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975), yet another grail quest;
and Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure (1989), in which two young men travel
through time collecting historical figures to perform in their high school project.
In other cases, the main character or characters feel compelled to travel to a
sacred site or experience a sacred event, in this way renewing their spirits, their
belief in life’s magic, or in other ways escaping the drudgery of their lives. This
pattern can also be seen in the “road home” type of film.
At the risk of casting the net too widely on ritual and film, there are also a
number of ritualized “quest into the unknown” films—most inspired by Herman
Melville’s 1851 classic Moby Dick—including The White Buffalo (1977), about
Wild Bill Hickok hunting a white buffalo that appears to him in a dream; Star
Wars, in which the Death Star functions as a type of intergalactic white whale;
and Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan (1982), in which the megalomaniacal Khan
morphs into a type of Captain Ahab as he chases the ever elusive starship Enter-
prise so as to exact revenge upon Captain Kirk, whom Khan blames for his wife’s
untimely death. One variation on this theme is the ritualized “cat and mouse”
quests, as seen in such films as Run Silent, Run Deep (1958), The Hunt for Red
October (1990), The Fugitive (1993), and Master and Commander: The Far Side
of the World (2003).
Not to be overlooked is the ritual use of film. Such ritualized use typically
takes two forms: films that are broadcast on television to coincide with the Ameri-
can liturgical calendar; and films over which fans obsess—the “get-a-life imitating
art” film. Of the former, one can almost identify the seasons by the films that are
being broadcast on television. Between Thanksgiving and Christmas, the networks
faithfully replay It’s a Wonderful Life (1946), Miracle on 34th Street (1947), The
Bishop’s Wife (1947), numerous versions of Charles Dickens’ classic 1843 tale,
A Christmas Carol, and (increasingly), the animated Eight Crazy Nights (2002).
Close to New Year’s Day, it’s Meet Me in St. Louis (1944) and The Sound of Music;
during Easter week, The Greatest Story Ever Told (1965), The Robe (1953), Ben-
Hur (1959), and, at times, the rock opera Jesus Christ Superstar (1973) and the
musical Godspell (1973); near Passover, The Ten Commandments (1956); for
American Independence Day, The Music Man (1962), 1776 (1972), The Patriot
(2000), and the alien invasion film Independence Day (1996); and, concluding the
liturgical year around Halloween, it’s The Wizard of Oz.
The other ritual use of film includes those films that have taken on cult sta-
tus, with fans so closely identifying with the film’s characters that they dress like
 Russia | 373

them, mouth their lines, and mimic their actions. Such ritualized use of film is one
way that filmgoers relive the experience and participate in the drama unfolding
before them again and again. In the process, not only does the ritual reconnect
them with the characters of the film, it also connects them with other fans who
have been similarly caught by a film’s poignant message or spellbinding special
effects. Among the most famous ritualized cult films have been Star Trek (the vari-
ous big screen adaptations as well as the television program [1966–1969, NBC]
from which it was adapted); the first-released Star Wars (as well as five subsequent
feature-length films); and, most notably, The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975),
which stars a young couple stranded in the rain seeking assistance at a roadside
castle, whose owner—Dr. Frank-N-Furter—is hosting an odd assortment of extra-
terrestrials in humanoid form. As a cult classic, Rocky Horror continues to draw
bizarrely costumed crowds to its midnight showings, all eagerly waiting to sing (in
the film’s most popular ritualized sing-along): “Let’s Do the Time-Warp Again.”
Jon R. Stone
See also: American Indian Religion; Arab Film; Australia; Bollywood;
Buddhism; Catholicism; Film as Religion; Hinduism; Holidays; Indigenous
Religions; Islam; Judaism; Protestantism; Women.

Further Reading
Barr, Terry. “Eating Kosher, Staying Closer: Families and Meals in Contemporary Jewish
American Cinema.” Journal of Popular Film and Television 24, no. 3 (1996): 134–144.
Boswell, Parley Ann, and Paul Loukides. Reel Rituals: Ritual Occasions from Baptism to
Funerals in Hollywood Films, 1945–1995. Bowling Green, OH: Bowling Green State
University Popular Press, 1999.
Lyden, John C. Film as Religion: Myths, Morals, and Rituals. New York: New York Uni-
versity Press, 2003.
Plate, S. Brent. Religion and Film: Cinema and the Re-Creation of the World. London:
Wallflower Press, 2008.

Russia

To understand the complex and changing relation between religion and film in
Russia it is useful to take into account the changing political context in which dif-
ferent films have been produced, from Tsarist Russia through Soviet Russia and
finally to post-Soviet Russia.
374 | Russia

The first films to be screened in Russia were shown in May 1896 at the Aquar-
ium Theater in St. Petersburg and featured Lumière films such as L’Arrivée d’un
train à La Ciotat (Arrival of a Train at La Ciotat, 1896) and Partie de cartes (The
Messers. Lumière at Cards, 1895). The first film actually made in Russia captured
scenes connected to a civil religious ritual: the Coronation of Tsar Nicholas II
in 1896. This short sequence contains shots of the imperial couple entering and
leaving the Cathedral of the Assumption in the Kremlin as well as a line of ex-
travagantly dressed foreign dignitaries. The religious rituals at the center of the
coronation were not recorded, nor were the numerous Orthodox priests who were
robed in gold, or the golden icons that covered the walls of the cathedral. A cam-
era did record, however, the moment a few days later when the tsar was presented
to the Russian people, during which a stand collapsed, leading to a stampede in
which hundreds were crushed to death. The film was confiscated and has not been
seen since.
Not surprisingly, both the tsar and the leaders of the Orthodox Church had
an ambivalent and often suspicious attitude toward the cinema. Initially, cine-
matic depictions of Jesus were taboo. The Orthodox Church responded almost
immediately to one portrayal of Jesus with a letter—Russia’s first film censor-
ship document—issued by the office of the Holy Synod in 1898, titled “On the
inadmissibility of holy subjects being shown by means of the so-called ‘Living
photography.’ ” Another, La Vie et La Passion du Christ (The Passion Play, 1903),
was initially censored by the Orthodox Church’s Holy Synod as a “violation of
the Gospels” when it arrived in Russia, although it was permitted more wide-
spread circulation in 1907. There were some supporters of such ventures who
saw similarities between cinematic communication on the one hand and religious
iconography and painting on the other. Thus, when La Vie et La Passion du Christ
was finally screened, the police were present to ensure that everyone present took
off their hats as a sign of reverence. It still provoked controversy; in 1913 the tsar
famously wrote in the margin of a police report on cinema the suggestion that
films could be divisive: “I consider cinematography to be an empty, useless and
even pernicious diversion. Only an abnormal person could put this fairground
business on the same level as art. It is all nonsense and no importance should be
attributed to it.”
Nonetheless, he did make use of a court filmmaker to record significant events,
a precedent ensuring that Russian filmmakers would follow suit. Between 1907
and the Great War, over 1,800 newsreels were produced. The early days of Russian
filmmaking concentrated on state occasions and occasional religious events, such
as the procession of pilgrims at Kiev.
Alongside these news and documentary films there emerged a number
of fiction films where both religious themes and figures made appearances,
 Russia | 375

contributing to recurring attempts by the Orthodox Church—which retained the

power of censorship—to control content. The silent film Ukhod velikovo startza
(Departure of a Grand Old Man, 1912), directed and produced by Yakov Prota-
zanov and Elizaveta Thiman, portrays peasants requesting land from Leo Tolstoy,
his refusal to help on the grounds that his wife owns the land, his subsequent
arguments with his wife, his increased depression, and his final encounter in the
clouds with Christ. The Orthodox Church banned it on the grounds that it found as
blasphemous the depiction of Tolstoy (himself excommunicated in real life) being
led into heaven. In Otets Sergiy (Father Sergius, 1917), codirected by Yakov Pro-
tazanov and Alexandre Volkoff and based on an 1890 short story of the same name
by Leo Tolstoy, the central figure discovers on the eve of his wedding that his fian-
cée has had an affair with Nicholas I. Deeply disillusioned, he turns to the church,
becoming an Orthodox monk and then a hermit, beset by doubts and temptations.
The film brings together religion, politics, lust, and heartbreak, culminating in the
protagonist’s demise. This tragic tale cinematically reflected the tension between
religious commitment and personal desire and has been described as both scandal-
ous and groundbreaking.
Following the revolutions of 1917 and the ensuing civil war, the new Com-
munist leaders were swift to encourage the use of film for propaganda purposes.
In an July 12, 1923, article in Pravda titled “Vodka, the Church, and the Cinema,”
Leon Trotsky berates his comrades for not making better use of film to persuade
the masses. “Here is an instrument which we must secure at all costs!” He portrays
the cinema in competition “not only with the tavern but also with the church.” He
believes that “this rivalry may become fatal for the church” if the cinema is put
to effective use. For Trotsky, the cinema provides “spectacular images of greater
grip than are provided by the richest church” or “mosque or synagogue.” Trotsky
asserts that “the cinema amuses, educates, strikes the imagination by images, and
liberates you from the need of crossing the church door.” For some, like Trotsky,
cinema had the potential to replace the need for visiting traditional places for
worship; for others it was perceived as a powerful tool of persuasion to be used to
promote the new regime.
During the 1920s and 1930s, filmmakers appropriated and inverted religious
themes. Martyrs, not for the church but for the Soviet cause, are commonly de-
picted and celebrated. For example, in Dovzhenko’s Zemlya (Earth, 1930), Vasil,
a vigorous young man, is murdered and then portrayed as a martyr for the new So-
viet way of life. Dovzhenko’s revised 1956 script promotes a fervent antireligious
message, with Vasil’s father declaring to the priest, “There is no God . . . Because if
there had been a God, even if he weren’t altogether almighty or all-merciful, even
if he’d been a miserable little God, turned a bit senile by age and all that worship,
even one like that wouldn’t have let my son die that way.”
376 | Russia

Later, at the collective farm board, Vasil’s father begs his listeners: “If my
Vasil has died for a new life . . . he should be buried in a new way. I don’t want
priests and deacons seeing him out for a fee, but our own boys and girls with new
songs about the new life.” While an old priest calls down God to smite the people,
they sing a new song in a godless world. Through this film Dovzhenko belittles the
old elites: landowners and church leaders. Earth stands in a long tradition of other
early Soviet films—Eisenstein’s Stachka (Strike, 1925) and Bronenosets Potyom-
kin (Battleship Potemkin, 1925), Pudovkin’s Potomok Chingis-Khana (Storm Over
Asia, 1928)—which celebrate the deaths of martyrs for the Soviet antireligious
cause.
There are many other explicit antireligious cinematic statements to be found
during the 1930s. Prazdnik svyatogo Yorgena (Holiday of St. Jorgen, 1930), some-
times described as an exposé of religious faith, shows how two thieves escape
from prison, hide in a church, and while there observe the riches accumulated by
the priests. The result is that they aim to relieve the church of its ill-gotten gains.
In other films, such as The Tale of the Priest and of His Workman Balda (1934),
based on an 1830 poem by Alexander Pushkin, priests are represented as lazy, dis-
honest, or exploitative scoundrels. Nuns also became the focus of satire or parody.
Alexander Medvedkin’s irreverent comedy Schastye (Happiness, 1934) includes
the sight of nuns wearing transparent tops and a priest fighting for money.
Some filmmakers perceived cinematic dramas or fairytales as the “opiate of
the people,” with realist documentaries celebrated as a more authentic form of
communication. Dziga Vertov was a vociferous proponent and practitioner of such
a view, with the first reel of his film Entuziazm: Simfoniya Donbassa (Enthusiasm,
1931) including actual 1929 footage of churches being converted into workers’
clubs, steeples being pulled down, and icons and relics being removed. This com-
plex film was the subject of much hostile criticism in the Soviet Union, not for its
obvious atheistic tendencies but rather its failure to show the followers of religion
involved in a fight against socialism. Religion, like subservience to the czar and
addiction to alcohol, is relegated to a historical shadow rather than a dynamic
force countering the Soviet state.
Other filmmakers’ personal experience of the Orthodox Church informed—
perhaps even haunted—their filmmaking. The director Sergei Eisenstein never
forgot the dramatic rituals he experienced in church as a boy and would sometimes
refer to his Jewish heritage. According to Eisenstein biographer Marie Seton, he
once confessed that he worked hard for years to rid himself of his fascination with
religion. His depictions of priests and other members of the Orthodox Church in
Oktyabr (October, 1928) are far from flattering, with the image of a worshipping
priest juxtaposed with pictures of the supposedly corrupt leaders of the 1917 provi-
sional government. October, produced to commemorate the Bolshevik Revolution
 Russia | 377

10 years before, begins with the destruction of the statue of Alexander III holding
the symbols of God and country: an orb and a scepter. Toward the end of the film,
the tsar and tsarina’s private apartments in the Winter Palace are overrun by the
Bolsheviks, who find a variety of icons representing a close relationship between
the Church and the Empire, including one depicting Jesus blessing the tsar and
his family. Through the use of an “intellectual montage,” which brings together a
baroque image of Jesus, Hindu and Aztec gods, the Buddha, and primitive idols,
Eisenstein appears to portray all religions as the same. The juxtaposition of this
with military paraphernalia reflects the perceived parallels between patriotism and
delusional belief.
Eisenstein’s unfinished Bezhin lug (Bezhin Meadow, 1937), mostly destroyed
by fire during a bombing raid in World War II, includes shots of a church being
transformed into a club for workers. The overturning of the old order is symboli-
cally represented by an inverted reflection of a church in water. The icons are
carried without ceremony or deference, the workers become part of the icons
themselves, and a life-size crucifix is removed under the arm of a bearded laborer.
Through the sanctification of the poor, here is the vindication of the people over
moribund gods. In his anti-German historical epic Aleksandr Nevskiy (Alexander
Nevsky, 1938), Eisenstein portrays a monk associated with the Teutonic crusad-
ing knights, who appears to look on approvingly as baby after baby is dropped
into a fire. There is greater ambiguity toward religious figures and spaces in
both Ivan Groznyy I (Ivan the Terrible Part 1, 1944) and Ivan Groznyy II: Bo-
yarsky Zagovor (Ivan the Terrible Part 2, 1958), where religious leaders both
conspire against and stand up to Ivan’s tyrannical rule, reminiscent of Stalin’s
paranoid leadership, while the cathedral becomes a place of failed assassination
and murder.
Not all Soviet filmmakers were entirely negative toward established religion.
Some film historians argue that ambivalence toward religion can be seen even
more clearly among some filmmakers during the “thaw” following the death of
Stalin in 1953. One scholar suggests that even during the religious persecutions
initiated by Nikita Khrushchev, there were several more sympathetic portrayals
of priests in films. This is a persuasive argument when considered in the light of
films such as Chudotvornaya (The Miracle Worker, 1960), where a “young pio-
neer” is identified as a saint after finding an icon that performs miracles, or Tuchi
nad Borskom (Clouds over Borsk, 1960), which sympathetically depicts small
religious communities who practice speaking in tongues, or the compassionate
priest in Vsyo ostayotsya lyudyam (Everything Remains for the People, 1963).
Such portrayals were a far cry from those of the 1920s and 1930s, when priests
were presented as criminals, or of the late 1940s and early 1950s, when they were
presented as agents of western influence.
378 | Russia

Ambivalence toward religion virtually becomes celebration in the seven films

directed by Andrei Tarkovsky, which have received considerable attention. His
work Andrey Rubylov (Andrei Rublov, 1969) goes behind the apparently peaceful
world of religious iconography to reveal a 16th-century Russia torn by conflict
and an artist wracked by guilt and the inability to create. This black-and-white
world is transformed into color only in the last few minutes of the film, where
Tarkovsky slowly reveals to the viewer Rublov’s most famous icon: the Trinity.
In Tarkovsky’s last film, Offret (The Sacrifice, 1986)—a Swedish production he
made knowing that he was dying of lung cancer—he famously depicts the self-
sacrifice of Erland, who offers his life to God in an attempt to avert a nuclear war
that would destroy everything. As in the case of several of his earlier Russian
films, it is hard for Tarkovsky to avoid recurring religious motifs, although this
has provoked diverse responses, with some critics claiming that God is absent
while others celebrate his presence. Tarkovsky’s largely sympathetic treatment
of religious themes provides a marked contrast to earlier films of the 1920s and
1930s, which were part of the antireligious propaganda then current. His films, es-
pecially those already discussed—as well as Zerkalo (The Mirror, 1975), Stalker
(1979), and Nostalghia (1983)—are comparative rarities, especially among the
films produced during seven decades of Communist rule; they anticipate many of
the themes to be found in films produced following glasnost and the end of the
Soviet regime.
From the mid-1980s, the Soviet Union underwent a number of dramatic trans-
formations. With the accelerated economic restructuring of perestroika and the in-
creased freedom of expression through glasnost, the Russian people experienced
radical political, social, and economic changes. These transformations, which
began under Mikhail Gorbachev’s leadership, had a significant impact upon the
depiction of religion in Russian film. Monanieba (Repentance, 1984) represents
the first notable work from the glasnost era that is permeated by religious themes.
Set in a small Russian village, it tells the haunting story of a woman who is on
trial for repeatedly exhuming the body of a former town leader. This is a power-
ful Georgian parable about digging up the past—in particular the painful Stalinist
past—and atoning for buried wrongs. Although many of the films of this era are
deeply critical of past evils, some are equally critical of religious intolerance or
anti-Semitic tendencies (e.g., Luna Park, 1992).
More recently, films have depicted protagonists seeking to escape their violent
pasts and searching for peace, a quest often depicted with a religious resonance.
In Zhivoy (The Hero, 2006), Kir, a soldier returning from the Chechen wars, first
encounters the ghosts of his two fallen comrades and then an Orthodox priest, Fa-
ther Sergei. (The two actors who portray Kir and Father Sergei are twins.) At one
memorable moment, the priest and Kir wrestle—like the biblical account of Jacob
 Russia | 379

and the angel—but the priest appears to be trying to help Kir come to terms with
his past. Later the priest helps Kir find the graves of his fallen comrades. Unlike
the anticlerical depictions of the 1920s and 30s, Orthodox priests are now regu-
larly depicted in a more favorable light, a pattern replicated on Russian television
programming.
One of Russia’s most popular films of 2006 was Ostrov (The Island ), which
is set in 1976 primarily on an isolated island monastery somewhere in northern
Russia and depicts in endearing detail a small group of Orthodox monks. Father
Anatoly, the central figure, is portrayed as an uneasy figure searching for personal
forgiveness after having been forced to shoot his captain during World War II.
While this inner war rages, he attracts to his cell other people in search of advice,
healing, or holiness; for all his idiosyncrasies, he is depicted highly sympatheti-
cally. The film attracted considerable support from the Orthodox Church. In ways
that are reminiscent of how churches in North America made use of The Passion of
the Christ (2004), some Orthodox Christians made use of The Island, occasionally
advertising the film or buying out entire cinemas. At one cinema, viewers were
even encouraged to take off their hats and pray before the film began.
Rather than rejecting religious belief, some figures are now depicted as
embracing religious faith. Two contrasting examples will suffice. In Vladimir
Khotinenko’s Musulmanin (A Moslem, 1995), a young man is captured while
fighting in Afghanistan and converts to Islam. His return to his home village is far
from peaceful as—in light of his new found faith—he refuses to conform. Toward
the end of Gruz 200 (Cargo 200, 2007)—one of the most talked about films of
2007—one of the central characters—a professor of “scientific atheism” at Lenin-
grad University—goes to church and asks to be baptized.
Following the downfall of the Soviet regime, cinematic depictions of religion
are changing. In sharp contrast to the 1920s and 1930s, where Russian Ortho-
doxy was largely reviled, its priests and beliefs are now often portrayed far more
sympathetically. These depictions go beyond some of the more ambiguous and
even favorable depictions from the 1970s. Orthodox priests and monks act as
guides or become models for those searching for peace and the transcendent.
Other religious traditions are also occasionally depicted in more favorable terms.
In these recent Russian cinematic contexts religion is portrayed as not an entirely
divisive force and more commonly as an agent for different kinds of spiritual
searching.
Although it is tempting to interpret the increasingly sympathetic portrayal of
religious themes, characters, and controversies as a return to prerevolutionary de-
pictions, such a circular description does not do justice to the ways in which film
has evolved in Russia over the last century. Religion remains a complex and pow-
erful force that is emerging with greater confidence into the public sphere. The
380 | Russia

Russian films of the last two decades not only reflect greater openness to Russian
Orthodoxy but are also beginning to reveal some of the religious fault lines within
post-Soviet Russia.
Jolyon P. Mitchell
See also: End-of-the-World Films; Film as Religion; Tarkovsky, Andrei.

Note
This entry draws upon and adapts material from “Portraying Religion and Peace in
Russian Film.” Studies in World Christianity 13, no. 3 (2008): 142–152.

Further Reading
Eisenstein, Sergei. The Eisenstein Reader. Edited by Richard Taylor, translated by Richard
Taylor and William Powell. London: BFI, 1998.
Leyda, Jay. Kino: A History of Russian and Soviet Film, 3rd ed. Princeton, NJ: Princeton
University Press, 1983.
Shlapentokh, Dmitry, and Vladimir Shlapentokh. Soviet Cinematography, 1917–1991:
Ideological Conflict and Social Reality. New York: Aldine/de Gruyter, 1993.
Tsivian, Yuri. “Censure Bans on Religious Subjects in Russian Films.” In Une Invention du
Diable? Cinéma des Premiers Temps et Religion [An Invention of the Devil? Religion
and Early Cinema], edited by Roland Cosandey, André Gaudreault, and Tom Gunning,
71–80. Sainte Foy, Canada: Les Presses du l’Université Laval, 1992.
Tsivian, Yuri. Early Cinema in Russia and Its Cultural Reception. Edited by Richard Tay-
lor, translated by Alan Bodger. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1998.
Youngblood, Denise J. The Magic Mirror: Moviemaking in Russia, 1908—1918. Madison:
University of Wisconsin Press, 1999.
S

Schrader, Paul (1946– )

Paul Schrader has played several roles in the American film industry in the late
20th and early 21st centuries, reviewing films, directing his own works, and writing
some of the greatest American films. Schrader has written academic film criticism,
including a master’s thesis on the cinematic depiction of the sacred in the works
of Robert Bresson, Carl Theodor Dryer, and Yasujirō Ozu. He worked with Martin
Scorsese on two of the most acclaimed and controversial films of the late 20th cen-
tury: Taxi Driver (1976) and The Last Temptation of Christ (1988). Schrader has
also directed several notable films, including American Gigolo (1980) and Auto
Focus (2002). When the totality of his work is taken into consideration, Schrader
emerges as one of the most widely accomplished film artists of our generation,
consumed with depictions of the sacred and the profane in film.
Paul Schrader was born in Grand Rapids, Michigan, in 1946 and raised in a
disciplined Dutch Calvinist home. Because of the concerns about film expressed
by his religious tradition, Schrader was not allowed to see movies until he was
a student at the conservative Calvin College, where he became entranced with
film. He later studied at Columbia University and earned a graduate degree in
film at UCLA. His graduate thesis (titled The Transcendental Style in Film: Ozu,
Bresson, and Dryer) explored how each of these directors depict transcendence
in film.
Following his time at UCLA, Schrader began to write about films for the LA
Weekly and Cinema Magazine. It was while he was working as a film critic that
he began to write screenplays, his first for the Sydney Pollack film The Yakuza
(1974). Although the film was not a commercial success, it contributed to Schrad-
er’s growing reputation as a screenwriter.
The year 1976 marked an important collaboration, when Martin Scors-
ese filmed Schrader’s screenplay of Taxi Driver. The success of that film en-
abled Schrader to direct several of his own screenplays; most notably the movie

381
382 | Schrader, Paul

Hardcore (1979), for which he drew

upon his own experience in the Dutch
Calvinist tradition to narrate a tale of
a prodigal daughter. Hardcore follows
a Protestant pastor who must travel
to Los Angeles to find his daughter,
there discovering that she has entered
the world of pornographic film. His
efforts to get her away from that en-
vironment occupies most of the film.
Hardcore explores the conflict be-
tween the evangelical community and
the darker side of film culture.
Schrader saw two of his works
released in 1980. He continued his
highly successful collaboration with
Scorsese in the great American film
Raging Bull (1980), in which he ex-
plored American culture through the
eyes of boxer Jake LaMotta. Also re-
American director Paul Schrader at the Toronto
International Film Festival, 2008. AP Photo/ leased that year was American Gig-
Carlo Allegri. olo, which Schrader had both written
and directed. This, his most popular
success, chronicled the life and work of a male escort in Los Angeles. The film
explores both the seedy underside and the more attractive side of the city.
At the end of the decade, Schrader once again collaborated with Scorsese
in The Last Temptation of Christ, their most controversial film, which Schrader
adapted from the novel (1955) by Nikos Kazantzakis. This film opened to wide-
spread protests from conservative Christians who objected to its depiction of the
humanity of Christ. The film also offers a fascinating dialogue between the Prot-
estant Schrader and the Catholic Scorsese—for example, in its depiction of the
Last Supper.
Scorsese and Schrader returned to the streets of New York in Bringing Out the
Dead (1999), which narrates three days in the life of a New York City emergency
medical technician who travels the dark side of the city, haunted by the ghosts of
patients he could not save. Once again, this film explores two worlds, the daytime
“normal” world of city life and the nighttime underworld of Hell’s Kitchen.
Schrader’s more recent film, Auto Focus, traces the career trajectory of Bob
Crane, star of television’s Hogan’s Heroes (CBS, 1965–1971). It explores Crane’s
destructive friendship with John Carpenter as well as his increasing addiction to
 Science Fiction | 383

various sexual experiences. These experiences, mixed with the emerging home
video industry, proved to be destructive to his career and ultimately his life.
Schrader also directed Dominion: Prequel to the Exorcist (2005), in which Father
Lancaster Merrin has an encounter with the demon Pazuzu, which leads to his own
rediscovery of faith.
Schrader has consistently focused on religious experience throughout his ca-
reer. Some of his films, like Dominion, Hardcore, and The Last Temptation of
Christ, explicitly convey his interest in religion. Each explores the machinations
of power and guilt in the context of institutional religious experience. Other films,
like American Gigolo, Raging Bull, and Auto Focus, narrate a homiletic tale of
the ruinous consequences of pride, materialism, and lust. Throughout his career,
Schrader has returned to these significant themes.
John Vassar
See also: Bresson, Robert; Dreyer, Carl Theodor; The Last Temptation of Christ
Controversy; Ozu, Yasujirō; Scorsese, Martin.

Further Reading
Bliss, Michael, and Paul Schrader. “Affliction and Forgiveness: An Interview with Paul
Schrader.” Film Quarterly 54, no. 1 (2000): 2–9.
Fraser, Peter. “American Gigolo and Transcendental Style.” Literature/Film Quarterly 16,
no. 2 (1988): 91–100.
Schrader, Paul. Schrader on Schrader. Edited by Kevin Jackson. London: Faber and Faber,
1990.
Schrader, Paul. Transcendental Style in Cinema: Ozu, Bresson, Dreyer. Berkeley: Univer-
sity of California Press, 1972.

Science Fiction

In a general sense, the science fiction genre can be defined by its reference to sci-
entific concepts and portrayal of sophisticated technologies. The genre’s signature
heroes and antiheroes are scientists, and plots often revolve around the use of sci-
entific know-how to confront challenging problems. Often filmmakers embellish
and exaggerate based on the actual state of science and technology at the time of
the film’s creation. For example, space travel and tiny handheld communication
devices were regular features of science fiction films long before they became re-
alities. Some critics distinguish “hard” science fiction, or works that explore plau-
sible trajectories of scientific development, from “soft,” or works that explore more
384 | Science Fiction

fanciful speculations. Regardless, all science fiction films explore the outer limits
of scientific possibility and thus the tension between the real and the imagined. In
doing so, the genre serves as critical commentary on the chief narrative of moder-
nity: the belief that expanding knowledge drives human progress.
In spite of its ostensibly “rationalistic” and “secular” concerns, the science
fiction genre has much in common with fantasy and horror. All commonly portray
abnormal events, extraordinary beings, and imagined worlds that require an imagi-
native leap away from the familiar. As such, all can be contrasted with cinematic
realism. The dramatic tensions in science fiction films often rely upon displace-
ment from the ordinary, estrangement, encounters with the radically “other,” and
the discovery that “reality” has hidden depths. These infuse the genre with a dual-
istic tone reminiscent of religious myth. For example, the genre’s numerous aliens,
robots, and monsters echo the gods, angels, and demons of traditional religious
scripture and folklore. Likewise, standard plot devices such as visits to other plan-
ets, the discovery of alternative dimensions, and time travel suggest a multilevel
cosmos with dimensions that are utterly different from familiar realities. Often
the borrowing from religion is direct; many screenwriters and directors weave
religious imagery into their films or pattern characters and plots on elements de-
rived from religious narratives. Prophetic visions, messianic heroes, apocalyptic
foreboding, epic adventures, and morality tales are thus readily found in the canon
of science fiction films.
Although the term science fiction came into widespread use only in the late
1920s, films that explore the genre’s signature themes of space travel, time travel,
mad inventors, futuristic cities, robots, aliens, and monsters were well established
during the silent era. Critics often cite Frenchman Georges Méliès’s Le Voyage
dans la lune (A Trip to the Moon, 1902) as the breakthrough work, and Fritz Lang’s
Metropolis (1927) as the genre’s first great masterpiece. Subsequent decades saw
continuous production of science fictions films, accompanied by considerable
thematic diversification. Over time, science fiction has combined with just about
every other film genre, notably melodrama, western, comedy, action adventure,
war epic, and musical. It has also spawned a number of its own subgenres—such
as alien invasion, journeys to the future, and robots run amok.
The adaptation of literary science fiction has been important to the film
genre from the start. Classic works by Mary Shelley (Frankenstein [1818]), Jules
Verne (Journey to the Center of the Earth [1864]; 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea
[1869–1870]), H. G. Wells (The Time Machine [1895]; The Island of Dr. Moreau
[1896]; The Invisible Man [1897]; War of the Worlds [1898]), for example, have
been made into films multiple times. Likewise, acclaimed novels and stories by
more recent authors such as Arthur C. Clark, Isaac Asimov, Margaret Atwood, and
Philip K. Dick have inspired various films in the genre: 2001: A Space Odyssey
 Science Fiction | 385

(1968); I, Robot (2004); The Handmaid’s Tale (1990); and Minority Report (2002),
respectively.
The prominence of scientists in the genre strongly evokes one of the key tenets
of secular modernity: the superior power of scientific knowledge to comprehend,
master, and otherwise negotiate with reality. This secular focus, however, must be
qualified by two well-established trends. First, there is a long tradition of portray-
ing scientists as alienated loners, reckless experimenters, sadists, madmen, and
sociopaths. The message of these characters is implicitly cautionary: the pursuit of
scientific knowledge compromises one’s humanity and corrupts the soul. Perhaps
the best-known character of this type is Victor in Frankenstein (1931) and Bride of
Frankenstein (1935), who succumbs to the temptation to appropriate the creative
power of God by reanimating dead bodies with electricity and chemicals. His ef-
forts meet with success, only to quickly degenerate into horror when his creation
becomes a homicidal monster. A slow learner, Victor yields to temptation again in
the sequel, this time at the urging of a more decidedly amoral scientist, Dr. Preto-
rius. Significantly, his redemption (symbolized by reconciliation with his fiancée)
occurs only when the creature itself recognizes that it cannot be part of human
society and acts to destroy itself, the “bride,” Dr. Pretorius, and the lab.
Second, heroic scientists often resemble their more “religious” counterparts as
character types. Thus, for example, fictional scientists pursue challenging quests,
face temptations, ponder complex moral issues, confront mysteries, slay mon-
sters, and save their society from catastrophes. In Contact (1997), Ellie Arroway, a
skeptical scientist, embarks on an epic journey across the universe that resembles
a mystical illumination. Among other things, she experiences intense visual and
auditory stimuli, an elongation of her conventional sense of time, and meets her
long-dead father. Ironically, when Ellie “returns,” she, like classic mystics, cannot
account for her experience using conventional language and concepts.
Films that portray the scientific and technological developments in fictional
future societies, both utopian and dystopian, are enduring features of the science
fiction genre, and many have shrewdly predicted future developments. A notable
early example, H. G. Wells’s The Shape of Things To Come (1933), accurately
foresaw the imminent outbreak of a world war, the widespread influence of televi-
sion, and a visual information network much like the Internet. Other films portray
grim visions of the future as modes of social criticism. Various film versions of
George Orwell’s 1949 novel Nineteen Eighty-Four portray a gray and loveless
society dominated by misinformation, surveillance, a stifling bureaucracy, and
images of a ubiquitous totalitarian leader, “Big Brother.” The Handmaid’s Tale,
based Margaret Atwood’s 1985 novel of the same name, sees a future where a
conservative and patriarchal religious class uses high-tech paramilitary forces to
rule a society wracked by rebellion, pollution, and declining fertility. The popular
386 | Science Fiction

Terminator series (The Terminator [1984]; Terminator 2: Judgment Day [1991];

Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines [2003]) and Matrix series (The Matrix [1999];
The Matrix Reloaded [2003]; The Matrix Revolutions [2003]) portray future so-
cieties where machines have taken over and threaten to destroy or enslave the last
remaining vestiges of human life.
Among the most common forms of prophetic science fiction are the apoca-
lyptic and postapocalyptic works exploring the possibility that natural disasters,
technological breakdowns, nuclear war, or worldwide epidemics might transform
the world as we know it in the near future. Many of these films echo biblical
apocalyptic literature (the books of Daniel and Revelation) in their emphasis on
large-scale catastrophes, social strife, and radical inversions of the political order.
They are also apocalyptic in a formal sense (from the Greek apokalupsis, “to un-
cover” or “to reveal”) in that their plots are driven by a message from “beyond”
(another dimension, another time period, another level of consciousness) that stirs
the main characters to action.
Another common strategy of borrowing from religious source material has
been the use of messianic heroes, often based on models from the western mono-
theistic traditions. In The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951), the activities of the
character Klaatu closely resemble those of Jesus in the Gospels. He visits earth
from another world, preaches a message of peace and cooperation, performs mi-
raculous deeds, upsets authorities, endures fear and misunderstanding with mag-
nanimity, dies unjustly, and finally resurrects with the help of his advanced alien
technology. At the end of the film, Klaatu reveals that Gort, his robot companion,
is a kind of cosmic enforcer who will destroy humanity if it continues to wage war.
The film thus serves as a modernized apocalyptic story, wherein an extraordinary
messianic “outsider” reveals to an errant and anxious society that it must change
course or risk total annihilation.
As a general archetype, messianic characters in science fiction films are spurred
to action by a message that comes from outside of their present circumstances (via
aliens, time travel, or visions) or by the gradual realization of their own superior
powers and insights. Authorities usually ignore, reject, or resist the “messiah” and
inhibit the spread of saving knowledge. Thus the task of salvation falls to the hero
or heroine working alone or with the assistance of a few loyal compatriots. Often
scientific know-how and facility with advanced technology are crucial to the mes-
siah’s quest. Numerous films fall into this category, including WarGames (1983),
Twelve Monkeys (1995), and Armageddon (1998).
Gnostic themes and mythologies inform a number of interesting science fic-
tion films. Dark City (1998), for example, portrays a world where a race of aliens,
“The Strangers,” regularly reconfigure the minds, memories, and even the archi-
tecture of a city of people who are largely unaware of their presence. The plot
 Science Fiction | 387

follows the adventures of the protagonist, who gradually becomes aware of the
aliens’ machinations and his untapped telekinetic powers. Eventually he is able to
vanquish the Strangers and find his way to a more luminous reality that he must
create for himself. The aliens are strongly reminiscent of the archons and fallen
angels of Gnostic myth who, in defiance of the true God, create a fallen world and
continuously inhibit humanity from realizing the truth. Likewise the protagonist
fulfills the role of the classic Gnostic hero who overcomes delusion to realize his
destiny as child of the light (the true God) and a liberator of others. The Matrix
series has a comparable plot structure wherein a race of machines and their enforc-
ers, “The Agents,” try to suppress the emergence of a messianic rebel-hero, Neo.
The film clearly invokes Christianity, with allegorized characters for Jesus, Mary,
Judas, and John the Baptist. It also, however, makes reference to Greek mythology
and eastern religions, suggesting an eclectic inspiration.
Robots have appeared in films since the silent era and continue to be one of the
most popular motifs in the science fiction genre. Because they have some human
qualities but clearly remain machines, robots often serve as potent foils for the
human characters struggling to find a proper relationship to science and technology.
Some robots achieve a status that transcends the merely human and have qualities
traditionally associated with gods: superhuman size, strength, intelligence, and
speed. Many directors enhance this association by borrowing the techniques of
religious art: luminous skin, halo effects, back lighting. In the famous transforma-
tion scene from Metropolis, for example, the golden-skinned robot radiates elec-
trostatic halos that suggest divine qualities and inspire reverence from her male
admirers. The mute, indestructible Gort in Day the Earth Stood Still represents
the terrifying aspects of technology recast as a transcendent judge who promises
to destroy the human race if it continues to wage war. Other robots are less god-
like but nonetheless embody virtues associated with heroic endeavor. Robbie from
Forbidden Planet (1956) and R2D2 from Star Wars (1977), for example, portray
courage, loyalty, and resourcefulness in service of the human characters.
A number of prominent science fiction films portrayed robots aspiring to em-
body uniquely human qualities such as love, compassion, or the love of life. Blade
Runner (1982), Artificial Intelligence: AI (2001), and I, Robot, for example, all
feature artificial life forms that struggle to become more like the humans who have
created them. Alternatively, many films feature the inverse; the struggle of human
characters to resist becoming more robotic and machinelike. Star Trek: First Con-
tact (1996), based on the popular television series, features the Borg, a race of
cyborgs who threaten to absorb all life forms into their totalitarian collective. The
Stepford Wives (1975; 2004) allegorizes more conventional fears about social con-
formity with plots that feature the male characters in a “typical” American suburb
conspiring to replace their spouses with pliant and obedient robot copies.
388 | Science Fiction

Aliens symbolize an otherworldly intrusion into the familiar and resonate with
a number of social processes involving encounters with unfamiliar groups and
cultures, including immigration, travel, and warfare. Cinematic representations of
aliens draw upon varied religious and folkloric traditions about supernatural crea-
tures, ranging from ethereal qualities associated with angels, to the impishness of
gnomes and fairies, to the horrifying visages of demons and dragons. Aliens often
take on roles like messiahs or prophets and thus serve as harbingers of new eras or
bearers of superior wisdom. Conversely, some films portray aliens as malevolent
invaders, usurpers, or thieves who attack, disrupt, or otherwise undermine normal
human activities.
Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977) and E.T. the Extra Terrestrial
(1982) are two of the most widely viewed “positive” alien movies. The former
portrays aliens as superintelligent beings interested in contacting human beings,
showing off their advanced technology, and giving a select few the chance to
visit other worlds. Their appearance is anthropomorphic but with smooth skin
and long, amorphous bodies that have no clear blemishes or gender, suggesting
that superior beings transcend the normal categories of physical existence and
approach the ethereal qualities associated with spirits and angels. E.T., among
the most popular films in the history of cinema, features a gnomish alien with an
amiable disposition and various supernatural powers. Akin to other “messianic”
science fiction films, characterization and plot development imitate the Christian
Gospels.
Religious narratives of cosmic battles between good and evil have modern
parallels in films that cast aliens as malevolent invaders on a planetary scale, such
as War of the Worlds (2005) and Independence Day (1996). Often these portray an
embattled humanity unifying to combat a superior foe. Other invaders have more
localized ambitions. Alien (1979) and Predator (1987), for example, imagine sce-
narios in which a single creature slowly murders members of a group until a sole
survivor musters enough courage and cunning to stop it. As with other “nega-
tive” cinematic aliens, these creatures appear to be grotesque hybrids that combine
attributes of carnivorous mammals, reptiles, insects, or machines. This physiog-
nomy immediately suggests nonhuman and dangerous qualities; accordingly,
their behavior tends toward indulgence, excess, vice, ruthlessness, and senseless
violence.
More subtle alien invasion films show the replacement of human beings with
creatures that look and act human but have lost some essential qualities. The In-
vasion of the Body Snatchers (1956; 1978) portrays a small-town doctor who
slowly discovers that his patients and neighbors are being replaced by exact rep-
licas grown from large alien seedpods. Symbolically, the film mirrors two acute
anxieties of the mid-1950s—the loss of rugged individualism in the face of the
 Science Fiction | 389

increasing conformity of American life and fears of communist-inspired political

subversion.
Monsters follow an aesthetic logic similar to that of negative aliens, and thus
invert the images of beauty, order, and harmony associated with divinity. Their
exaggerated scale, deformities, anomalies, and mutations evoke surprise, shock,
revulsion, or perhaps a vague unsettledness. Monsters of immense size star in
some of the most memorable science fiction films. Their scale evokes a mixture of
fear, wonder, and awe that are reminiscent of encounters with divine beings from
religious literature. Often they serve as symbols of the primitive emotions and
chaos that haunt the order and stability of the ostensibly rational modern world.
King Kong (1933; 1976; 2005) follows the adventures of a giant ape, discovered
on an obscure island in the south Pacific, where he is worshipped like an ancient
God with human sacrifices. Visiting westerners, seeing an entrepreneurial oppor-
tunity, capture him and transport him to the United States where he is displayed
before horrified and enraptured audiences. Enraged, Kong escapes, and wreaks
havoc on an unprotected New York City. In the climactic final scene, he climbs the
Empire State building only to be shot down by military aircraft. Kong’s simian lust
and rage suggest primal impulses that gave rise to ancient sacrificial religions, and
which persist in the modern world as a love of gargantuan spectacle. Ultimately,
these instincts prove to be uncontrollable and must be expunged. Akin to various
ancient ritual traditions, the final scene hints that order can only be restored when
the “King” himself is sacrificed; in this case, before the symbolic “altar” of mod-
ern life, a soaring skyscraper.
The Japanese monster character Gojira first appeared in the low budget thriller
Gojira (Godzilla, 1954) and subsequently inspired dozens of sequels. In the origi-
nal storyline, atomic testing in the Pacific awakens the creature that breathes ra-
dioactive fire and destroys buildings and lives on the Japanese mainland. Tapping
into ancient myths about dragons, cultural anxieties about invasions, and memo-
ries of the atomic bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Gojira emerges as
a potent symbol of the horror suffered by the Japanese due to the devastation of
World War II.
The variety of science fiction films makes it difficult to generalize in terms of
religion. Surely the genre has broad appeal that largely transcends the content of
specific religious traditions. Thus filmmakers need not look to any specific religious
source or authority for esthetic and moral guidance. Also, the success of science fic-
tion films can be interpreted as evidence of the rising cultural power of science and
technology. For some critics, this demonstrates the ongoing secularization of popular
culture. On the other hand, there is ample evidence that the religious imagination has
deeply influenced the genre. Filmmakers have creatively adapted and reinterpreted
religious symbols, character types, and narrative forms since the silent era. Given its
390 | Scorsese, Martin

heroic quests, tales of temptation and estrangement, prophesies of the future, godlike
robots, and demonic aliens, science fiction often seems less about the elimination of
religion from modern culture than a strategy for re-enchantment.
Lisle Dalton
See also: Dystopia; End-of-the-World Films; Greek and Roman Myths; Horror;
The Matrix Trilogy

Further Reading
Gravett, Sharon L. “The Sacred and the Profane: Examining the Religious Subtext of
Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner.” Literature/Film Quarterly 26, no. 1 (1998): 38–45.
McKee, Gabriel. The Gospel According to Science Fiction: From the Twilight Zone to the
Final Frontier. Louisville, KY: Westminster/John Knox Press, 2007.
Ruppersburg, Hugh. “The Alien Messiah in Recent Science Fiction Films.” Journal of
Popular Film and Television 14, no. 4 (1987): 159–166.
Short, Robert. The Gospel from Outer Space. San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1983.
Stone, Jon. “A Fire in the Sky: ‘Apocalyptic’ Themes on the Silver Screen.” In God in the
Details: American Religion in Popular Culture, 2nd ed., edited by Eric Mazur and Kate
McCarthy, 62–79. New York: Routledge, 2010.
Torry, Robert. “Apocalypse Then: Benefits of the Bomb in Fifties Science Fiction Films.”
Cinema Journal 31, no. 1 (1991): 7–21.

Scorsese, Martin (1942– )

Although not often considered a maker of religious films per se, Martin Scorsese
is perhaps the most overtly religious filmmaker of his generation because of the
biblical motifs and the quasi-liturgical tropes he employs in his work. In a 1988
interview, Scorsese observed that although the Catholic Church did not figure into
the lives of his parents very much, its religious concepts (rather than its institu-
tional structures) were very important to him; all he ever wanted to be when he
grew up was an ordinary parish priest. But when the moment of decision came,
Scorsese chose the life of a filmmaker over that of a priest, believing that, in the
end, making films could be a work equaling that of a life of prayer. He has indi-
cated that he believes he was meant to do the kind of work he does, and that for
him, it is akin to a religious act.
In many ways Scorsese has achieved his youthful desire to become a priest, if
only in the themes that he has examined and through the images that he has evoked
in his films. For Scorsese, born in 1942 to immigrant Italian parents, his parish has
 Scorsese, Martin | 391

been the streets of New York, where religion and ethnic identity run together and
the collision between Old World values and New World materialism typically re-
veals itself in violent, alienated, often self-absorbed and too often self-destructive
male characters. Indeed, his protagonists often are young men at once devoted to
faith and family and to upholding an in-group code of honor and at the same time
anxiously seeking a path of redemption or escape from the dark desperation of
their walled-in lives. It is here, in Scorsese’s films, that the inherent violence of the
street inevitably overtakes everyone and everything, whether guilty or innocent.
His beatific vision of this life is certainly no heaven on earth. For Scorsese, then,
filmmaking is a form of sacred storytelling, a recurring homily about sin and the
need for expiating blood atonement that is presented to millions of faithful movie-
goers in countless big-screen cathedrals around the world.
Scorsese’s films reflect the life he experienced growing up in New York’s
Little Italy. To survive in that world, he reasoned, a man had to become either a
priest or a gangster. After spending his freshman year of high school (1956–1957)
attending the cathedral seminary of the Archdiocese of New York and then failing
admission to Fordham University in 1960, Scorsese gave up his priestly aspira-
tions and enrolled instead in New York University, earning a bachelor’s degree
in 1964 and a master of fine arts (in film) in 1966. Even during his student days,
Scorsese’s film projects reflected the semiautobiographical storytelling style that
would come to define his later projects and his tendency to tell that story from the
perspective of lonely, often isolated, city dwellers. In this way, he had exchanged
the parish priest’s black cassock and clerical collar for a leather jacket and the
outsider status that such a jacket symbolized. By becoming, as biographer Robert
Casillo put it, a “gangster priest,” Scorsese would preach Catholic guilt and per-
sonal redemption through film.
Scorsese’s first films after graduate school were set on the streets and popu-
lated with an assortment of unlikely heroes scratching out meager lives in menial,
unglamorous jobs. Indeed, his characters often live in a world where retributive
justice unwittingly mimics cosmic justice. As Charlie Cappa, Jr., one of his char-
acters, would coldly state it in Mean Streets (1973), “You don’t make up for your
sins in church. You do it in the streets.”
Examples of these early Scorsese films include I Call First (1967; also known
as Who’s That Knocking at My Door), Boxcar Bertha (1972), and Mean Streets. To
demonstrate his versatility, Scorsese then directed his first film with a female lead,
Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore (1974), whose Oscar-winning best actress, Ellen
Burstyn, had personally selected Scorsese to be its director. Returning to more
familiar territory, Scorsese made Italianamerican (1974), a documentary tribute
to his immigrant parents and their life together in New York’s Little Italy, followed
by the cult classic Taxi Driver (1976).
392 | Scorsese, Martin

However, after the box-office failure of his song-studded film New York, New
York (1977), Scorsese fell into a severe depression which resulted in a year-long
struggle with cocaine addiction. Reportedly, Scorsese was saved by long-time friend
Robert De Niro, who had been a fixture in many of Scorsese’s best-known films,
and overcame his depression by throwing himself in his next film project, Raging
Bull (1980), in which De Niro starred as the middleweight boxing champion Jake
LaMotta. A masterpiece filmed in black and white, Raging Bull was nominated for
eight Academy Awards, including Best Director. Although Scorsese lost to Robert
Redford, De Niro won the Best Actor award, and Raging Bull came to be regarded
as one of the best pictures of the 1980s. The 1980s also saw the release of other
notable Scorsese films, including The King of Comedy (1983), After Hours (1985),
and The Color of Money (1986), the long-awaited sequel to The Hustler (1961).
But during the 1980s, perhaps no film was more controversial than Scorsese’s
1988 big-screen realization of Nikos Kazantzakis’s 1960 novel The Last Tempta-
tion of Christ. The script provided Scorsese with the opportunity to portray the
purification through violence that is his stock in trade, resulting in protests over its
supposed blasphemous content; these delayed its filming and marred its release.
Americans—who were used to pious, Protestant films on the life of Christ—were
shocked by a very complex and a very human Jesus. What is more, in the hands of
Scorsese, The Last Temptation was the biblical story of Jesus set in the language
and manner of urban street life. Jesus is man and he is god; the ensuing struggle
between what he should be and what he wishes instead to become—replete with
self-doubts and self-destructive tendencies—perfectly replays previous Scorsese
characters. As Scorsese noted, Kazantzakis’s portrayal of Jesus is of one who put
up with everything ordinary people go through; he is human as well as divine, and
one who, like Scorsese himself, struggles with questioning and doubt as well as
more positive spiritual emotions.
Scorsese then returned home to Little Italy and the gangster genre (with a ven-
geance) in his next major film, Goodfellas (1990). In it, Scorsese rehearses many
of his earlier themes: the intersection of faith, family, and honor—or rather mi-
sogynistic machismo under the guise of male virtue. In all, Goodfellas received six
Academy Award nominations, with Joe Pesci winning the Best Supporting Actor
award for his role as an unstable mafia hit man. Throughout the 1990s and into the
2000s, Scorsese released a string of Academy Award–nominated films, including
a remake of the 1962 classic suspense film Cape Fear (1991); the period piece
The Age of Innocence (1993); Casino (1995); Kundun (1997)—a biography on the
early life of the 14th Dalai Lama; Gangs of New York (2002); The Aviator (2004),
about Howard Hughes; and The Departed (2006), which finally earned him the
Academy Award for Best Director, which had eluded him for decades.
Kundun and The Last Temptation can be viewed as companion films in that
their main characters are men caught between the sacred and the profane. Both
 Silent Film | 393

embody the divine clothed in human flesh. Both men wrestle with their dual na-
tures and are tempted by their respective demons—with Jesus’ tempter being much
more persistent. And yet, as one critic observed, while Jesus goes from doubt to
exaltation, the young Dalai Lama goes from egocentrism to selflessness. Though
a selfless statesman, he is, like Jesus, isolated, slowly but steadily treading the
spiritual path of self-realization even as political intrigues, anarchy, and armed
violence swirl around him. He alone thus becomes the still point of the cosmos.
With few exceptions, Scorsese has made films that examine the religious
themes and motifs at the heart of his own spiritual quest as well as others that ex-
orcise his own personal demons. Moreover, for Scorsese, the hidden world of the
street has become the ideal backdrop for the dynamics of gangster life or the lonely
isolated outsider struggling to survive amid modern urban life. It has become the
perfect setting within which to examine Catholic guilt, sin and redemption, Italian
American culture, self-destructive male violence, and, above all, the interminable
struggle between fallen human nature and the call of the divine.
Jon R. Stone
See also: Buddhism; Catholicism; Film as Religion; Jesus; The Last Temptation
of Christ Controversy; Schrader, Paul.

Further Reading
Blake, Richard A. “Redeemed in Blood: The Sacramental Universe of Martin Scorsese.”
Journal of Popular Film and Television 24 (Spring 1996): 2–9.
Bliss, Michael. The Word Made Flesh: Catholicism and Conflict in the Films of Martin
Scorsese. Lanham, MD: Scarecrow, 1995.
Kolker, Robert. A Cinema of Loneliness: Penn, Stone, Kubrick, Scorsese, Spielberg, Alt-
man, 3rd ed. New York: Oxford University Press, 2000.
Librach, Ronald. “The Last Temptation in Mean Streets and Raging Bull.” Literature/Film
Quarterly 20, no. 1 (1992): 14–24.
Lourdeaux, Lee. Italian and Irish Filmmakers in America: Ford, Capra, Coppola, and
Scorsese. Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1990.

Silent Film

American moving pictures and religion moved into the 20th century hand in hand,
ushering in an era when these two realms remarkably supported and reaffirmed
each other. Kevin Starr, who documents the development of early-20th-century
California in his work Inventing the Dream: California Through the Progressive
394 | Silent Film

Era (1985), notes that Horace Wilcot was a “God-fearing real estate speculator
who created Hollywood as a model Christian community, no saloons, no liquor
stores, with free land offered to Protestant churches locating within the city lim-
its.” After the early, almost Victorian days of the silent film, however, Hollywood
would, in the opinion of its early founders, backslide into the Jazz Age of the roar-
ing Twenties. Hollywood would fall from its garden setting, from being Wilcot’s
“holy land,” into a Hollywood Babylon, a suspect site that some detractors saw
as an incubator of the devil. The sweet harmony of the early cooperation of silent
film and religion would shatter into cultural conflicts yet to be resolved, with reli-
gious and civic leaders clamoring for censorship and boycotts.
The immigrant Jewish entrepreneurs who are often credited with inventing
Hollywood were a second generation of businessmen, men who came to Cali-
fornia to explore a business that, in New York, was run by a monopoly under
the control of men like Thomas Alva Edison. In its beginning, however, moving
pictures blossomed out of the Protestant work ethic and a coterie of Protestant
entrepreneurs. With the waning of the Victorian era, the bustling decades of the
Progressive era energized numerous Protestants to control the burgeoning indus-
try. Films followed their Victorian worldviews, wherein good was rewarded and
evil was punished. American filmmaking was akin to American preaching, and
churches cultivated a cottage industry of using films to reach children and teach
immigrants.
The supreme example of teaching the Gospel stories visually came in 1898,
with a re-enactment of the Oberammergau passion play from Bohemia. This dra-
matic presentation of the last week of Jesus’ life retold the old, old story and
amazed religious audiences. It not only elicited devout responses from church au-
diences but also garnered significant profits, sparking other filmmakers to repeat
the successful narrative. One of the most comic was that of Philadelphia producer
Sigmund Lubin, who was not above plagiarizing the scenarios of other compa-
nies. When he produced his own hometown version, however, a few anachronisms
popped up, as well as problems with his amateur actors; the disciple Peter disap-
peared from the set to shoot craps, and the wayward Judas succumbed to the “fruit
of the vine.”
Historian Terry Ramsaye describes one unlikely evangelist who took a copy
of the 1897 Hollaman-Eaves’s Passion Play down to the Atlantic City resort for
his revival meetings. Like many traveling lecturers and presenters of illustrative
slides, the Colonel Henry Hadley found success with his visual presentations of
religious materials. Hiring singers to accompany the films, belting out such hymns
as “O Holy Night,” Hadley could prepare the hearts of his huge, spontaneous
congregations and preach about the evils of drink, the damnation of sin, and the
hope of salvation. Hadley predicted two impending events, the blessed coming of
 Silent Film | 395

Prohibition and the persuasive power of moving pictures to shape the minds and
imaginations of spectators.
During this era of uplift and progress, one Victorian and Methodist filmmaker
who made his mark on various moral crusades was filmmaker D. W. Griffith. In
particular, he exposed the brutality of domestic abuse due to alcoholism in his The
Drunkard’s Reformation (1909), a searing indictment on the saloon business. As
historian Tom Gunning pointed out, Griffith’s film functioned as a moral sermon;
in it a drunken father repents when his daughter takes him to a play by Emile Zola
about his own miserable situation. Griffith expertly lifted up the dramatic arts,
rather than religion, as that which could rescue a man from the demon drink and
restore him to his family. Filmmakers like Griffith and the talented Lois Weber
(who had wanted to be a missionary and found that film was an effective tool for
social evangelism) worked as modern street preachers, taking their messages to
local theatres and preaching sermons on temperance and social injustice to mil-
lions of spectators. Films became a profitable means of communicating religious
stories and values, adapting technology to proclaim its messages of redemption
and reform.
The first great apologist for the art of film as an ally to religion was Congre-
gational minister Reverend Herbert A. Jump from New Britain, Connecticut. He
authored his primary work on The Religious Possibilities of the Motion Picture
(1911) in an attempt to demonstrate how film could support the goals of churches.
His compelling defense of utilizing moving pictures centered on demonstrating
how the parable of the Good Samaritan was similar to an exciting motion pic-
ture narrative. Like the movies, Jesus’ teaching showed action, crime, violence,
questionable religious characters, and even the bad guys getting away with their
booty. Yet each could teach their spiritual lessons. Jump argued for a theological
grounding of motion pictures by appealing to the creative and fascinating biblical
stories themselves.
For Jump, the key innovative director who addressed progressive religion
(and religious hypocrisy) was the aforementioned Griffith of Biograph Studios.
Remarkably, Griffith would insert the Christian transformation of characters into
such films as The Convert (1911), Salvation Army Lass (1909), and A Strange
Meeting (1909). Griffith’s sympathy for the downtrodden often showed the des-
titute and wayward finding redemption, with the proud falling from their roost.
He preached a version of the social gospel, essentially illustrating the biblical
principle that the “wages of sin is death.” In A Corner in Wheat (1909), Griffith
indicts the capitalist speculators who manipulate grain stock prices. In his film,
the greedy “Wheat King” falls to his ironic but deserved death in a grain bin. In
contrast, the good Indian convert in The Yanqui Cur (1913) learns the true meaning
of the Christian message and lays his life down for others. In a more comic vein,
396 | Silent Film

a young girl is slandered in The New York Hat (1912) by gossipy biddies in the
church after the young minister has bought her a fashionable head covering. The
rumor mill is quashed, however, when the minister marries the lass in the end, with
virtue triumphing and maligning slurs nullified.
Griffith also provided cameos for Jesus in his films. In the Edgar Allen Poe–
inspired The Avenging Conscience (1914), a young man considering homicide is
haunted by the divine presence. Griffith ends his controversially racist but cine-
matically impressive The Birth of a Nation (1915) with an Aryan vision of heaven.
His spectacular fugue of four stories in Intolerance (1916) includes the Galilean
tale of Jesus (at least up to the Cross) paralleled with other narratives of injustice.
Griffith recognized the power of the silent image, arguing that it was a “universal
language” that could be understood globally. Moving pictures communicated con-
cretely and directly, even viscerally, through the eyes to the soul, even transporting
spectators to a more spiritual realm of existence.
In 1919, Griffith addressed thousands of Methodists at their Columbus Ohio
Centenary, challenging them to innovate, to adopt projectors and exhibition equip-
ment for their ministries, and to develop the possibilities of the moving picture for
use in teaching, preaching, and worldwide missions. Showing its support for this
church-related movement, Eastman Kodak approached the Presbyterian Church
with over 2000 projectors for their ministries.
Moral melodramas erupted during the 1910s. Lois Weber, the first female
American film director, first felt called to go into missionary work; however, her
uncle persuaded her that she would be even more effective in reaching people with
her message in this novel medium of moving pictures. A combination of evan-
gelistic zeal and social conscience energized Weber, as she engaged numerous
contemporary social problems. In Where Are My Children? (1916), she castigated
abortion while championing birth control. In Hop, the Devil’s Brew (1916), she
followed Griffith’s lead and denounced the ill consequences of alcohol consump-
tion. Her propagandist film The Blot (1921) rallied support for increasing the low
salaries of clerics and teachers. And in her controversial Hypocrites (1915), she
unleashed her righteous indignation toward religious hypocrisy among church pa-
rishioners. Daringly, she inserted a nude woman as the “Naked Truth,” who wan-
dered throughout the film as a provocative symbol.
The most accommodating genre for religious themes and symbols was the
western. It shared the stark moral contrast of good and evil with the melodrama,
but situated this spiritual battle in an action-packed desert country milieu. Rooted
in the late-19th-century novels of Harold Bell Wright and Ralph Connor, westerns
communicated more of the biblical lex talionis (“an eye for an eye, a tooth for
a tooth”). Frontier justice exacted the wages of sin. The masculine evangelical
stories of directors like King Vidor captured this struggle. Vidor’s adaptation of
 Silent Film | 397

Connor’s story, The Sky Pilot (1921), for example, transplanted an eastern minis-
ter out into the uncivilized wilderness to become a man and to pilot other men to
God’s country.
G. M. Anderson emerged as the earliest religious cowboy at the Essanay
Studios. He portrayed good/bad cowboy, Broncho Billy, in scores of one-reel
westerns. With a tough exterior but a generally soft-hearted soul, Broncho Billy
enacted the role of the lone pilgrim suffering through the desert. His rough-hewn
character may have been prone to wander, but he generally reaffirmed American
values of honor, justice, courage, integrity, kindness, and self-sacrifice. Several
of his films demonstrated his essential integrity. For example, in Broncho Billy’s
Sentence (1915), he starts as an outlaw fleeing a posse. He hides in a minister’s
home where he is cared for by the minister and his wife who feed him and read
him the Bible. Recognizing the error of his ways, he repents, turns himself in to
the authorities, and is sent to prison, where he takes on the role of a prison minister
to his fellow convicts.
William S. Hart replaced Broncho Billy as the archetypal religious cowboy,
living out his dark nights of the soul soaked in booze. Hart became the top male
box-office draw during the late 1910s, owing in part to the tough Calvinist theol-
ogy that shaped his character. No one could read the Bible and drink his whiskey
as forcefully as Hart. He was generally nudged into finding God through the en-
couragement of a good woman, often with the name of Faith or Grace, finding
redemption before the final reel. Hart would become the model of a muscular
Christianity sweeping America. Hell’s Hinges (1916) proved to be the climac-
tic narrative for his character, depicting an apocalyptic finale in a symbolic war
of good and evil in the old West. A Puritanical Protestant faith was translated
into the visual sermons of western films, with Broncho Billy and William S. Hart
galloping across the screen as Jonathan Bunyan’s solitary pilgrim on horseback.
Curiously, French critics complained that too much religion and piety appeared in
American westerns and demanded that Hollywood not export Bibles and sermons
in their movies.
“America’s Sweetheart” Mary Pickford infused many of her films with strong
religious sentiment. Along with Hart, she topped the Quigley Exhibitors’ Poll in
the late teams, drawing in huge audiences. Films like Tess of the Storm Country
(1914) and Sparrows (1926) were replete with Christian themes. As the American
icon of spunk and verve, Pickford added energy to a waning Victorian piety. Her
character countered the stiff religion of the 19th century with one that combined
integrity with loving kindness. In Tess she defended an unwed mother against
self-righteous church men. In the comic melodrama Sparrows, she enacts one of
the most touching and poignant prayers for a dead orphan, and invites Jesus as
the Good Shepherd to gather his dying lamb to His flock. Pickford’s husband and
398 | Silent Film

United Artists partner, Douglas Fairbanks, starred in the adventure film The Gau-
cho (1928) as a playful rogue who undergoes a radical conversion at a holy shrine
of the Virgin Mary (played, incidentally, by his own wife, Mary Pickford).
Comedy and religion were wedded in the work of Charlie Chaplin, whose
combination of slapstick and pathos brought laughter and tears. In Easy Street
(1917), Chaplin is converted at a Christian Mission house and goes on to inad-
vertently clean up the neighborhood, preaching a dual sermon on evangelism and
social work, and instituting a New Hope Mission. In The Pilgrim (1923), convict
Chaplin playfully disguises himself as a minister and finds himself in a church
pulpit required to preach a sermon. In a scene that contrasts with the usual bore-
dom of a Sunday service, he acts out the battle of David and Goliath to the enthusi-
astic response of a young boy. Other films such as The Kid (1921) and The Circus
(1928) explicitly utilize religious themes and symbols to emphasize the tramp’s
sentimental religious humanism, underscoring the beatitude that the earth belongs
to the meek.
In 1919 religion attained a peak in its impact upon the silent film. Methodists
held their centenary and showed over 800 films. A significant Christian publication,
The Christian Herald, reviewed films and even sought to coordinate productions.
Articles appeared celebrating how moving pictures functioned as a handmaiden
to churches. And movies like George Loane Tucker’s The Miracle Man (1919)
wowed spectators with its presentation of faith healing in the midst of crooked con
men. One of the characters, a Chinese launderer played by Lon Chaney, in Tom
Forman’s Shadows (1922), is converted to Christianity as he observes the integrity
of a local minister who is falsely accused of a crime and yet forgives his accuser.
In the 1920s, one of the most enduring directors of the religious spectacu-
lars, Cecil B. DeMille, released two classic productions, The Ten Commandments
(1923) and The King of Kings (1927). Exploiting the religious audiences of the
heartland, DeMille mixed biblical tales with cinematic showmanship, adding tit-
illation, sex, and high fashion to the story of a simple carpenter from Nazareth.
DeMille would defend the screen as a primary “religious teacher,” able to stir the
spiritual imaginations of his audiences, even as he committed adultery with his
scriptwriter.
Jews were not entirely absent from the silent film era, and many of the films
depicting Jews did so in a manner that was not only open and obvious, but with
greater frequency in the 1920s than in the decade immediately before or after
World War II. Central to many of these films was the conflict most immigrants
faced between particularization (and marginalization) on the one hand and accul-
turating and assimilating into the overwhelmingly Protestant American culture on
the other. These films in particular dwelt less on Jewish religious practice—the
occasional image of Jews praying, performances of Jewish liturgical music—and
 Silent Film | 399

more on elements of Jewish ethnicity and culture, such as the use of Yiddish, vis-
its to (or street images of ) Jewish merchants (like kosher delicatessens), and the
environs of the Lower East Side of Manhattan, the epicenter of the largest Jewish
immigrant population in the first part of the century. Humoresque (1920)—about
a Jewish child prodigy who escapes the impoverished conditions of the Lower
East Side to become a violin virtuoso, only to be injured when he volunteers for
military duty during World War I—features a performance of “Kol Nidre,” one of
the more recognizable Jewish prayers, recited only on Yom Kippur. His People
(1925)—about two brothers, their different life paths, and their relationship to their
parents and their parents’ world—features a scene around the Shabbat dinner table.
And films like The Cohens and the Kellys (1926), Kosher Kitty Kelly (1925), and
Clancy’s Kosher Wedding (1927)—a few of the many film versions of the enor-
mously popular play Abie’s Irish Rose (which ran on Broadway for 2,327 perfor-
mances from May, 1922, through October, 1927, and was itself made into a film
in 1928)—focused on the dangers, frustrations, and difficulties of ethnic (rather
than simply religious) intermarriage. Common among these films are some of the
enduring stereotypes (positive and negative) of Jews in film: the yiddshe mama, the
generational conflicts over Americanization, and issues related to intermarriage.
Concerned with comic caricatures of Irish and Italian Catholics (as seen
in The Callahans and the Murphys [1927]), as well as suggestive portrayals
of priests and nuns (as seen in The White Sister [1923]), the Roman Catholic
Church carefully and deliberately increased its participation in the film world
during the “golden age” of film, the 1930s. Joining with Protestants, the church
clamored for cleaning up Hollywood after the early 1921 scandals of actors Wal-
lace Reid and Roscoe “Fatty” Arbuckle. To assuage such complaints, Hollywood
enlisted the former Republican postmaster general and Presbyterian elder Will
H. Hays to preside over the Motion Picture Producers and Distributors of Amer-
ica (MPPDA) as a moral watchdog. By including Hays as a symbolic head, Hol-
lywood postponed national censorship. Nevertheless, as literature and theatrical
productions tested the limits of acceptable content, the public art of film took the
heat. Satires of religious characters, such as Sinclair Lewis’s novel Elmer Gantry
(1927) and Somerset Maugham’s story “Rain,” scandalized religious leaders.
These same leaders were appeased by Hays’s presence only so long, as he was
soon seen as a token guardian. Films like The Scarlet Letter (1926) and Sadie
Thompson (1928) exacerbated Hays’s job to clean up Hollywood.
The silent era ended just as the MPPDA set forth its guidelines, which would
culminate in the Production Code of 1930; it prohibited any mockery or ridicule
of the clergy. What had begun as a healthy cooperation among filmmakers and
religious groups now deteriorated into attitudes of suspicion, enmity, and hostil-
ity. Religious concerns focused more on sex and violence, and spokespeople for
400 | Smith, Kevin

religious adherents found themselves marginalized as critical voices rather than as

creative, cross-fertilizing partners.
By the mid-twenties, church-going and movie-going were regular experiences
for many ordinary American citizens. Moving pictures had been assimilated into
the cultural mainstream and even into the churches, but they had, in the eyes of
some, corrupted the culture. What many realized is that the telling of stories, the
making of myths, the defining of morality, and the practice of rituals once domi-
nated by the churches and synagogues had now been supplanted by the moving
picture theaters—the new cathedrals of America.
Terry Lindvall
See also: Catholicism; Censorship in Hollywood; DeMille, Cecil B.; Film as
Religion; Judaism; Missionary Films; Protestantism; Westerns.

Further Reading
Cripps, Thomas. “The Movie Jew as an Image of Assimilation, 1903–1927.” Journal of
Popular Film 4, no. 3 (1975): 190–207.
Friedman, Lester D. “Celluloid Assimilation: Jews in American Silent Movies.” Journal of
Popular Film and Television 15, no. 3 (1987): 129–136.
Lindvall, Terry. Sanctuary Cinema: The Origins of the Christian Film Industry. New York:
New York University Press, 2007.
Lindvall, Terry. The Silents of God: Selected Issues and Documents in Silent American
Film and Religion, 1908–1925. London: Scarecrow Press, 2001.
Musser, Charles. “Passions and the Passion Play: Theater, Film, and Religion in America,
1880–1900.” Film History 5, no. 4 (1993): 419–456.
Ramsaye, Terry. A Million and One Nights. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1926.
Sloan, Kay. The Loud Silents: Origins of the Social Problem Film. Urbana: University of
Illinois Press, 1988.

Smith, Kevin (1970– )

American director, producer, actor, and comic book writer Kevin Patrick Smith
was born in Red Bank, New Jersey, on August 2, 1970. He has written and directed
eight feature films to date and appeared in several dozen documentaries and mov-
ies. Considered by some the voice of the “slacker generation,” Smith’s movies are
sweet-tempered comedies characterized by fast, intelligent, and often intensely
profane dialogue. His subject matter concerns New Jersey, friends, family, sex,
God, and popular culture, all handled with wit, irony, and emotional honesty.
 Smith, Kevin | 401

Smith was raised in Highlands, New Jersey, a small, predominantly Irish-

Catholic blue-collar town, and attended Our Lady of Perpetual Help parochial
school for eight years before graduating from Henry Hudson Regional High
School. He began to struggle with Catholic dogma around the age of 18 or 19,
questioning the existence of God and whether the Bible was sacred scripture or
literature, calling this the beginning of a real crisis of faith and giving him the idea
for the script of his movie Dogma (1999).
Smith draws on Catholic working-class New Jersey for the setting of his mov-
ies, most of which take place in a fictional universe dubbed the “View Askewni-
verse” (named for his production company, View Askew Productions). He
portrays Catholic New Jersey in a loving and authentic way, capturing the rhythms
of speech, humor, and clever banter that characterize the Jersey working class.
Catholicism provides a context for the lives and feelings of the characters, as in
Chasing Amy (1997), where graffiti on the wall of a neighborhood bar reads, “And
on the eighth day, God created beer.”
Smith’s characters often discuss Catholic life and questions of faith. Smart
and opinionated, the predominantly young people who populate his films debate
contemporary dilemmas confronting Catholic dogma, including euthanasia, abor-
tion, premarital sex, and homosexuality. They also concern themselves with more
timeless matters, such as what the souls of the dead do to stay busy in heaven.
Smith’s affectionate portrayals of Catholic Jersey culture lead to meditations on
the importance of friendship, love, and family. His first film, Clerks. (1994), which
he financed himself and made for only $27,000, chronicles a day in the life of two
friends, Dante and Randal. The film climaxes with a fight between the two but ends
quietly with the two working side by side, cleaning up the mess they made. These
two friends are still together in Clerks II (2006) and are joined by another pair of
close friends, stoners Jay and Silent Bob (played by Smith), who have appeared in
all but one of Smith’s films to date. Jersey Girl (2004) is about being a parent and
about how the love of a parent for a child has the power to change lives.
Chasing Amy, Smith’s most accomplished film, challenges conservative Cath-
olic sexual morality by telling the love story of a sexually liberated woman named
Alyssa Jones and the man who would possess her, Holden McNeil. Although a
lesbian, Alyssa loves Holden. “Why rule out fifty percent of the population in se-
lecting a mate?” she asks, “Isn’t that dumb?” Smith does not refute this argument,
suggesting instead that the dogmatic nature of a religious upbringing can result in
judgmental adults who are unable to accept people who are different.
By the time he completed the first draft of the script for Dogma, Smith said
he had resolved his crisis of faith, affirming a belief in God and Christ but differ-
entiating between faith and (institution-based) religion. Hence Dogma is critical
of doctrine yet upbeat about faith. The movie introduces a number of technical
402 | Sports

aspects of Catholic doctrine, including transubstantiation and plenary indulgence.

However, Smith builds a nondogmatic view of faith, suggesting that the New Tes-
tament is fallible and open to bigoted readings, and arguing that homosexuality is
not a sin. He portrays Jesus as human as well as divine, experiencing doubt and
self-pity, and capable of pulling practical jokes on the disciples. Above all, Smith
presents a movie in which God exists and is playful, loving, and kind but in which
His (or Her) plans for us are mysterious.
Dogma was attacked by the Catholic League for Religious and Civil Rights.
Smith and a friend attended a protest of the movie in Asbury Park, New Jersey, and
arrived to find 15 protesters who had neither seen the movie nor could recognize
Smith. When a reporter from a local television news channel recognized him and
asked if he was Kevin Smith, he denied it and proceeded to detail the defects of
the movie and its director.
Smith subsequently received a “Defender of Democracy” award from People
for the American Way for his efforts to bring the movie from script to theater. He
called the movie a “celebration of faith,” which makes the point that faith in God
means faith in something we cannot understand. Dogma is a human creation, an
attempt to dictate the terms by which unintelligible things can be made under-
standable. But that is not the same thing as faith, even if the church, a human
creation, wants unquestioning support from its members.
Beth Davies-Stofka
See also: Catholicism; God.

Further Reading
Horowitz, Josh. The Mind of the Modern Moviemaker: 20 Conversations with the New
Generation of Filmmakers. New York: Penguin, 2006.
Horton, R. “Snoochie Boochies: The Gospel According to Kevin Smith.” Film Comment
35, no. 6 (1999): 60–65.
Muir, John Kenneth. An Askew View: The Films of Kevin Smith. New York: Applause
Theater and Cinema Books, 2002.
Smith, Kevin. Silent Bob Speaks: The Collected Writings of Kevin Smith. New York: Mira-
max Books/Hyperion, 2005.

Sports

The sports film is a significant and increasingly popular Hollywood genre. This is
hardly surprising, since moviegoing and watching sporting events (live or on tele-
vision) are two of America’s favorite recreational activities. Among the large and
 Sports | 403

growing collection of sports films, a considerable number engage sacred topics

and themes and some give them primary attention. The result is the “sacred sports
film,” a subgenre that includes such popular films as Chariots of Fire (1981), The
Natural (1984), Field of Dreams (1989), and Major League (1989).
Designation and analysis of the sacred sports film is accurately understood in
the context of the broader inquiry into the relationship between sports and religion
in American culture. Studies of this relationship have proliferated since the early
1990s, with inquirers offering a wide variety of interpretations of the meaning
and implications of this relationship. None, however, give attention to the ways in
which films mediate the relationship between sports and the sacred in contempo-
rary culture, although several do cite specific films in the context of their broader
analysis. What they do supply is a general theoretic context that can be used to
guide studies of films dealing with sports and religion.
Broadly speaking, scholars who have inquired into the relationship of sports
and religion can be divided into two camps: those who argue for understanding
sports as a distinct religious expression and those who oppose such claims. Of
the two approaches, those presenting understandings of sports as religion or at
least offering studies of sports in the context of religious categories are preferable
for use in the analysis of films featuring the interplay of religion and sports, for
two primary reasons. First, while both approaches may be helpful in the analysis
of films in which sports and traditional religions are prominently featured, those
that take seriously the religious dimension of sports offer more resources for ana-
lyzing the significance of both undertakings without minimizing the importance
of sports relative to religion. Second, by recognizing the religious dimension of
sports, these studies allow for inquiries into films in which sports are presented as
distinct religious experiences, independent of and different from the experiences
of traditional religions. Such inquiries are considerably more difficult using the
approach that rejects the religious dimension of sports. The study presented here
is thus informed by the understanding that films featuring the interplay of religion
and sports may focus on either sports in the context of traditional religion or in
the context of the sacred dimension of sports itself—with the latter being a major
category for the analysis of sports in the context of religious films and culture as
a whole.
In this regard, a helpful starting point for inquiry into sports and the sacred in
film is to consider the degree to which sacred topics and themes are necessary ele-
ments in the development of the film and/or its principle characters. For example,
the classic baseball movie, Bull Durham (1988), may reasonably be included in
this category even though reference to sacred topics occurs only in the opening
scene when the female lead (Annie Savoy) offers her famous confessional, which
begins, “I believe in the Church of Baseball.” She continues, “I’ve tried all of
the major religions and most of the minor ones.” She refers to Buddhism, Islam,
404 | Sports

Hinduism, Catholicism, and primal religions before concluding: “And the only one
[religion] that truly feeds the soul day in and day out is the Church of Baseball.”
Although this is the only scene in which sacred themes are mentioned, the scene
is so pivotal to the development of the Annie Savoy character, and through her the
entire film, that it allows for consideration of Bull Durham as a sacred sports film.
Take away the opening scene and both the character and film lose something of
their essence. For Annie Savoy (and many other Americans), the world of baseball
is a sacred world and Bull Durham carries the viewer into this world. Savoy’s
“Church of Baseball” speech is cited in several important scholarly studies on the
intersection of sports and religion.
In contrast to the brief but highly significant appearance of religion in Bull Dur-
ham, religion has a primary and sustained role in the film School Ties (1992). In this
case, the film is developed around the lead character’s relationship with his religion
(Judaism) and the impact of anti-Semitism on his relationship with his Christian
classmates at an elite prep school. On the other hand, the film adaptation of Chaim
Potok’s 1981 novel The Chosen opens with a hotly contested baseball game be-
tween young men from two Jewish religious communities in New York City during
World War II. One team is from the Hasidic community and the other is comprised
of secularized Jews. The game helps introduce the two main characters, but unlike
the Savoy confession in Bull Durham, their development and the film’s narrative is
not contingent on the game. In this regard, The Chosen (1981) is clearly a religious
movie, which happens to be introduced with a particularly dramatic sporting event.
The discussion of Bull Durham, School Ties, and The Chosen offered here
suggests something of the complexity (as well as the academic interest) involved
in the interplay of sports and the sacred. Clearly not all sports films that include
sacred topics and themes are sacred sports films. Raging Bull (1980) concludes
with a powerful and cryptic quotation from the Gospel of John, but Raging Bull
does not deal with religion explicitly and only by a considerable stretch does it
deal with it implicitly. In the same way, not all religious films that include refer-
ences to sports fit into this classification. Some films, like School Ties, seem to
clearly belong while others, like The Chosen, do not. In the case of films like Bull
Durham, it is a matter of judgment—and perhaps the degree to which sports is
seen as sacred to the inquirer.
To assist in resolving the complexity in initial classification, films that deal
with sports and religion can be analyzed in terms of how they understand and pres-
ent the sacred. Typically, the sacred sports film takes one of two distinct forms.
The first and more obvious form focuses on the interplay of sports and traditional
transcendental religions (i.e., religions in which the sacred transcends the natural
world). Films of this type present religion(s) in an explicit manner and can be aptly
termed “religious sports films.”
 Sports | 405

The second form may be slightly less apparent due to the cultural tendency
to limit expressions of the sacred to established religious traditions. Films of this
type expand the range of the sacred beyond well-known religions and gener-
ally present the sport of their focus in a mystical or paranormal context. Broadly
speaking, the sense of the sacred presented in these films has affinities with reli-
gions classified as cosmological (i.e., religions in which the sacred is embedded
in natural world). These films may also present the sport as a sacred experience
in and of itself. Religion per se is often implicit in films of this type, which are
reasonably classified as “mystical sports films.”
Many religious sports films are arguably religious films that utilize sports to
focus on religious themes and issues. Most of the mystical sports films give pri-
mary attention to a particular sport and its mystical dimension for players and
fans. In this regard, films of the latter type may suggest ways in which sports have
come to function religiously in the lives of many Americans. In addition to these
two categories of analysis, others might include distinctions between comedy and
drama, fiction and nonfiction, and adult and juvenile target audiences.
Films that present sports and the sacred in the context of traditional transcen-
dental religions (“religious sports films”) are probably the easiest to recognize and
analyze. Those most appropriately classified as sacred sports films are crafted in
such a way that the featured sport and explicit religious elements seem seamlessly
melded. Both the sport and the religion are so necessary to the narrative that the
absence of either would fundamentally alter the film. In addition to presenting
recognizable religions in the context of featured characters, religious sports films
usually dramatize tensions that exist between different religions. They may also
include other elements typically associated with mainstream religions—crises of
faith, challenges with secularization, and issues related to pluralism. Aside from
comedies, the religions are on the whole presented in a fair and accurate manner.
There are several outstanding examples of films of this type: Ali (2001), Chariots
of Fire, School Ties, and Major League.
Like School Ties, Chariots of Fire is developed around its lead characters’
religious beliefs and how these beliefs influence and are influenced by their ath-
letic performance. Set in the context of the British Olympic team’s participation
in the 1924 Paris Olympics, the film focuses on two of the team’s star runners—
one a Jewish student from Cambridge, the other a Christian missionary from
Scotland. Both characters pursue athletic success for religious reasons, both en-
counter challenges due to their religious beliefs, and both are ultimately success-
ful in their races at the Olympic Games. In addition to using religion to develop
the film’s plot and the characters, this film in particular gives exposure to issues
related to the interaction of religion with secularization, nationalism, and the
mass media.
406 | Sports

Another good example of this type of film is Ali, the biographical film of the
life of Muhammad Ali. In an accurate, if somewhat sanitized, recreation of ten
critical years in the great boxer’s life, this biopic presents Ali as a complex char-
acter whose life is both stabilized and vitalized by his conversion to the Nation of
Islam. As a result, viewers receive insight into one of America’s most controver-
sial (and now beloved) sports icons and his equally controversial faith. As with
other religious sports films, the hero’s religion is elemental to the narrative. The
treatment of Ali’s life in this film can be contrasted with the treatment of Jake
LaMotta’s life in Raging Bull, revealing the difference between a religious sports
film and a sports film in which religion could have been prominently featured but
was not.
A comedy of this subgenre is Major League. As with other religion and sports
films, the story line (and in this case many of the laugh lines) is contingent on
distinctions and tensions between religions. Although practitioners of the religions
presented may well take exception to the way their beliefs and practices are hu-
morously depicted, the film relies on these depictions to develop its characters and
storyline.
The second type of sacred sports film (“mystical sports films”) seldom pres-
ents religion (or religions) in an explicit manner. Instead it sets the sport of its
focus in a mystical frame of reference and/or sacralizes the sport itself. These
films tend to abound with religious elements and categories of religious experi-
ence, but seldom do they focus on a distinct religious tradition. Instead, and more
broadly, they evoke a cosmological sense of the sacred. Classically, cosmological
religions are those in which nature or the forces of nature are sacralized. Per-
haps the best known type of cosmological religion is that found in ancient archaic
cultures, featuring pantheons of gods that embodied forces of nature and human
emotions. Also included would be tribal shamanistic religions and contemporary
religions such as Wicca and neopaganism.
In the mystical sports film, this cosmological sense of the sacred is articulated
not in the context of world nature and natural forces but rather the context of the
world of the sport. It is the sport itself that serves as the sacred ground for these
films, with the myths and rituals of the sport acting as vehicles for the experience
of this sacred ground. Three movies that best exemplify this category are The
Natural, The Legend of Bagger Vance (2000), and Field of Dreams.
The Natural offers a variation of the classic shaman’s quest. It presents the
life of its lead character as a sacred odyssey from shining promise, to oblivion,
and finally to ultimate redemption and triumph. In it both the lead character (Roy
Hobbs) and baseball are presented in a thoroughly cosmological light. Hobbs is
a troubled shaman with a tragic past, his bat a talisman or “power stick,” and his
story a sacred quest. The sport of baseball becomes a cosmic drama in which
 Sports | 407

forces of good and evil struggle on the field and off. Ironically, what makes the
movie so dynamic are its paranormal elements and cosmological context, render-
ing the story of The Natural hardly natural at all—at least in the normative sense
of the word, but very much so in the cosmological sense of the sacred.
The Legend of Bagger Vance is a film adaptation of Steven Pressfield’s novel
about a golf match during the Great Depression between golfing greats Walter
Hagen and Bobby Jones, who are joined by a local talent, one Rannulph Junah.
Pressfield consciously patterned the novel on the Bhagavad Gita and persons fa-
miliar with the Hindu classic will readily recognize the affinities—specifically be-
tween the hero, Rannulph Junah (“R. Junah,” or Arjuna), and his mystical caddy,
Bagger Vance (Bagavan, or Krishna). Even if unfamiliar with the Gita or unaware
of its relationship to the film, viewers will readily recognize the lead characters as
religious archetypes (the conflicted disciple and the firm yet patient Master). They
will also experience the sacredness of sports (golf in this case) and how the myths
and rituals of sports serve as portals into sacred realms of meaning. Although
based on a major religious text, Bagger Vance is best classified as a mystical sports
film since the film evokes the sacred dimension of golf, while the religion of the
Gita (Hinduism) is not presented explicitly.
Like Bagger Vance, Field of Dreams resurrects the actual stars of baseball’s
mythic past. These saints and sinners of Annie Savoy’s “Church of Baseball” re-
turn to life in an affirmation of their immortality and the sacred nature of the game
itself. Driven by the now classic line, “If you build it, he will come,” the film
vivifies the myth of the immortality of sports heroes. The “he” in the quote can
be understood to refer to Shoeless Joe Jackson, a star player at the center of the
famous “Black Sox” scandal who was banned from baseball for his role in helping
to fix the 1919 World Series. Once the diamond is constructed in an Iowa corn-
field, Jackson and his peers return to life in the prime of their careers. Predicated
on a world view similar to the ancestrism of primal cultures, the field in Field of
Dreams becomes a sacred space in which the game’s greatest players experience
again the thrill of the game.
The comedy Angels in the Outfield (1994), intended for younger audiences,
depicts the manifestation of the sacred in the context of a contemporary baseball
team. In this case, the sacred manifestation consists of angelic beings (actual an-
gels) who come to the aid of the California Angels baseball club. At critical times
in games, the angels appear, assisting the Angels players at the expense of their
opponents.
What is common in all mystical sports films (as opposed to the religious sports
films) is the evocation of the sacredness of the sports on which they focus. Where
religious sports films generally present traditional religions with accuracy and at-
tention to detail in relationship to a particular sport, mystical sports films invite
408 | Superheroes

viewers into a sacred world. The context that gives this world meaning is supplied
by the stories and traditions of the sport on which they focus, but through the
power of the film, the stories become sacred myths and the traditions become ritu-
als of transformation and renewal. Viewers who are avid fans doubtless feel quite
at home in these rarefied realms and even nonfans can get some sense of the sacred
significance of the particular sports through the viewing experience. For this rea-
son, mystical sports films are perhaps the more intriguing of the two categories for
inquiry and analysis. On the other hand, religious sports films allow insight into
the intersection of religion and sports and through that they give viewers some
sense of the cultural significance of these two powerful sources of meaning, value,
and identity in the contemporary world.
Dell deChant
See also: Catholicism; Film as Religion; Hinduism; Islam; Judaism; Protestantism.

Further Reading
Braswell, Michael C., and Robert J. Higgs. An Unholy Alliance: The Sacred and Modern
Sports. Macon, GA: Mercer University Press, 2004.
Hoffman, Shirl J., ed. Sport and Religion. Champaign, IL: Human Kinetics, 1992.
Prebish, Charles S., ed. Religion and Sport: The Meeting of the Sacred and the Profane.
Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1993.
Price, Joseph L., ed. From Season to Season: Sports as American Religion. Macon, GA:
Mercer University Press, 2001.
Price, Joseph L. Rounding the Bases: Baseball and Religion in America. Macon, GA:
Mercer University Press, 2006.

Superheroes

Films about superheroes, drawn from characters in comic books, have appeared
on movie screens shortly after their debut in comic print format. The earliest films
were serials, shown during World War II, and featured such characters as The
Phantom and Captain America, who fought villains bent on aiding the Axis Pow-
ers. In 1948, the actor Kirk Alyn donned Superman tights in the first feature film
about a superhero. Conventional and commercial, the superhero film properly be-
longs to the era of the Hollywood blockbuster, when big movies with big thrills
promised substantial returns on a studio’s investment. The returns were enhanced
through the economics of franchising, product placement, and product tie-ins, a
trend that continues to this day. The pace of production of superhero films has
 Superheroes | 409

accelerated with the rapid growth in digital effects capability, allowing for more
realism in costumes and the portrayal of superhuman exploits. Superhero movies
are not normally concerned with religious subject matter; instead, writers, direc-
tors, and cinematographers use religious language and imagery to enhance the
complexity of the subtexts of their films.
The first of the superhero blockbusters was Superman: The Movie (1978),
directed by Richard Donner. Donner and uncredited writer Tom Mankiewicz re-
putedly played up a resemblance to Christ in both this script and the sequel, Super-
man II (1980). The film dramatically emphasizes Superman’s origins as Kal-El,
the only survivor of the planet Krypton, sent to earth by his father to save human-
ity. Jor-El, Superman’s father, says to his son: “They can be a great people, Kal-El,
if they wish to be. They only lack the light to show the way. For this reason above
all, their capacity for good, I have sent them you, my only son.” The origin story
also recalls Moses, who, like Kal-El/Clark Kent, was a foundling sent by his par-
ents from an endangered homeland and adopted by strangers. Moses and Clark
each grew to be mighty heroes.
In Superman Returns (2006), director Bryan Singer also flavored some of
his scenes with Christian-like language and imagery. After a five-year absence,
Superman has returned to Earth, crashing his ship near the farm of Martha Kent,
his adoptive mother. Superman then collapses in his mother’s arms. This image
evokes the Pietà, Michelangelo’s portrayal of the bereaved Mary holding the body
of her crucified son. In a fight between Superman and his archenemy Lex Luthor,
Luthor weakens Superman by exposing him to Kryptonite and then beats him with
a brutality that implies the Passion. Luthor’s girlfriend, a “fallen woman,” looks
on with suffering and compassion, recalling the story of Mary Magdalene. Finally
Luthor stabs Superman in the side with a shard of Kryptonite, recalling the fate of
Jesus on the cross. Superman recovers his strength and saves the world by lifting
a giant Kryptonite landmass into outer space. When the effort saps his strength
and he falls to Earth, his body is arranged in a pose resembling a crucifixion. His
mother Martha waits for news of his fate, but in the crowd outside the hospital,
instead of at the foot of the cross.
And yet, the narrative and visual links to the Christ story are not meant to por-
tray Superman as a divine being. The intent is to use familiar elements to enhance
the dramatic power of the narrative. The Superman movies are not religious, as
Superman does not save humanity from an afterlife of anguish and suffering. Nor
is he the Son of God. Superman may be portrayed in these movies as our savior,
but Jor-El, his father in heaven, did not create us. He is a flesh and blood father,
albeit alien, but mortal like any Earth father.
In most superhero movies, the concerns are secular, and the worldview is athe-
istic. Spider-Man’s powers are the result of a bite from an experimental spider,
410 | Superheroes

and his enemies, the Green Goblin, Doctor Octopus, and the Sandman, all gain
their superpowers from unfortunate scientific mishaps. The X-Men are mutated
humans, their powers attributed to a mutant “X” gene. Batman doesn’t have super-
powers. His powers derive from tools like the Batmobile and the Batplane, and a
bulletproof costume. Batman’s chief weapon is his ability to frighten his enemies.
In Batman Begins (2005), Batman torments a corrupt cop for information. The
man pleads, “I don’t know. I swear to God.” With fierce insistence, Batman grabs
him by his hair, growling “Swear to me!”
Superhero movies frequently use Christian churches for scenery and set-
ting. Sometimes the churches are shown in a state of decay, like in Tim Burton’s
Batman (1989). The climactic fight scene between Batman and the Joker takes
place far above the streets of Gotham in the dirty, pigeon-infested belfry of the
city’s giant cathedral. In X2: X-Men United (2003), Kurt Wagner, the mutant
known as Nightcrawler, hides in a church after attempting to kill the President
of the United States. The church is apparently under renovation, run down, and
home to dozens of pigeons. Graffiti outside the church says scornfully, “Nature
laughs.” Nevertheless, it is a refuge, like the church in X-Men: The Last Stand
(2006), where mutants hold a meeting to decide how to respond to the so-called
“cure.”
Dramatic moments are also set in churches that are brightly lit, clean, well
tended, and staffed with clerical personnel. In Spider-Man 3 (2007), Spider-Man
has a life-and-death struggle with a gooey entity from outer space in the belfry
of a church. In the sanctuary, the font is filled with holy water, votive candles are
lit, and Eddie Brock kneels and asks an image of the crucified Jesus to kill Peter
Parker. The priest of the Hell’s Kitchen parish hears Daredevil’s confession in
Daredevil (2003). Mary, the mother of God, watches over Hell’s Kitchen from
her position in the stained glass window high over the streets. In the fierce fight
between Daredevil and Bullseye in the church, the two use the organ pipes, stained
glass, bells, and lit candles in their efforts to destroy each other.
Superheroes are not normally religious. Two prominent exceptions are Matt
Murdock, also known as Daredevil, and the mutant Kurt Wagner, also known as
Nightcrawler, one of the X-Men. Both of them are Roman Catholic. Daredevil
makes much of Murdock’s Catholicism, as we see him go to confession to wrestle
with his conflicting desires for vengeance and justice. Daredevil wears a red cos-
tume with horns, which are amplified in shadows to frighten his quarry. The press
calls him “demonic”; in a voice-over, he calls himself a “guardian devil.” Night-
crawler, also demonic in appearance, is deeply pious, and his piety seems to flow
from his confusion over his abilities. He sees himself as a circus freak, so he prays,
and chastises himself. In X2: X-Men United, during a moment of anxiety, Night-
crawler sits by himself, praying the rosary. He explains to another of the X-Men
 Superheroes | 411

that he has carved angelic symbols into his skin, one for every sin. Faith, he tells
her, can help us survive.
Some superhero films have the unfortunate tendency to treat African and East
Asian cultures as mystical and exotic wellsprings of superpowers. In Batman Re-
turns (1992), Catwoman is born when Selina Kyle is murdered and cats resurrect
her. In Catwoman (2004), the story is expanded considerably to explain the resur-
rection of Patience Phillips. In this version, the ancient Egyptian goddess Bast uses
a breed of cats called Mau as her sacred messengers. For thousands of years, the
Mau have been testing women by leading them to their deaths, and resurrecting
those they find worthy. When resurrecting these women, the cats bestow the spe-
cial gift of freedom. And freedom, so the story goes, is power. In Batman Begins,
Bruce Wayne learns his stealth in a place suggestive of the Shaolin Monastery, and
in Blade: Trinity (2004), Blade fights the so-called “First Vampire.” Said to have
originated in ancient Sumer and worshipped by the Babylonians as the god Dagon,
this First Vampire has cut a swath of blood through human history. The actual god
Dagon, worshipped by the early Amorites and demonized in the Hebrew Bible,
was a god of grain and agriculture.
Perhaps the most egregious use of the East as a source of mystical and exotic
power appears in Elektra (2005). The movie claims that two armies have been
at war since time began, and both armies, the Hand and the Chaste, are typical
examples of western fantasies about the mystical East. The soldiers of the Hand
and the Chaste are ninjas with legendary abilities of telepathy and telekinesis.
The Chaste follow the way of “Kimagure,” and their purity permits them to see
the future, control time, and bring the dead back to life. In an impressive visual,
a shaman named Tattoo is able to release his tattoos (a hawk, a wolf, a spider,
and a snake) from his body to attack and kill his enemies. When the warriors
from the Hand die, their bodies turn into smoke and light and leave no dust
behind.
A few films are adapted from comics that are not strictly about superheroes.
Although not about men in tights, they nonetheless feature heroes with extraordi-
nary powers who confront extraordinary evil in an effort to save the world. Con-
stantine (2005), based on the DC/Vertigo Hellblazer comics, is the most religious
of these, featuring exorcist John Constantine. Constantine has the ability to see
the demons and angels among us. The plot is based on Roman Catholic notions of
heaven, hell, and sin, with God and the angels in heaven, Satan and the demons
in hell, and humans in between. God and Satan have a wager as to who can win
the most souls. Constantine must foil a plot to bring the reign of hell to earth that
revolves around control of the Spear of Destiny, mentioned in the Gospel of John
and said to be stained with the blood of Jesus. The film is saturated with Christian
imagery and lore, from apocryphal texts, demon possessions, the number 666,
412 | Superheroes

and winged angels, to the prominent use of holy objects and relics such as Latin
prayers, crosses, alchemical symbols, and holy water.
Hellboy (2004) is the story of a demon brought to earth as a baby who grows
up to be an FBI operative fighting the forces of darkness. The wisecracking Hell-
boy’s features are classically demonic—red skin, horns, and a tail. But Hellboy
is not an earthly warrior in a battle between heaven and hell. Instead, Hellboy
confronts Rasputin, who has gained eternal life and the ability to grant it to oth-
ers. Rasputin wishes to use Hellboy to instigate the apocalypse, by bringing the
“Ogdru Jahad,” or Seven Gods of Chaos, to earth. The “Ogdru Jahad” are similar
to visions of gods and demons entertained by religions throughout the ages, but
are an invention of Mike Mignola, Hellboy’s creator. Director Guillermo del Toro
uses vivid imagery and a heady mixture of both Christian and pagan symbolism to
create a visually stunning, and enjoyably goofy, film.
In V for Vendetta (2005), a fascist Christian prime minister maintains his hold
on the British government by exercising absolute control over the media and intel-
ligence services, and manipulating the British people’s fears of terrorism. In this
story Christianity is part and parcel of the evil to be confronted, and the titular
character, V, does so by using sabotage and violence to assassinate key govern-
ment leaders and galvanize the public into mass action.
Although the purpose of superhero movies is to entertain with larger-than-life
characters and dynamic action sequences, they grapple with several issues com-
mon to theological inquiry, including the confrontation with evil and the limits of
being human. There are three basic categories of evil in superhero films: supernat-
ural evil, such as that fought by Blade and Constantine; the evil that men do, such
as that fought by Superman, Batman, the X-Men, or Daredevil; and a combination
of the two, such as that fought by Hellboy or Elektra. In each case, the confronta-
tion with evil requires some kind of sacrifice for the sake of others, either of the
hero’s happiness or life and sometimes both. The sacrifice of self for the sake of
others is the essence of heroism in superhero movies.
Superheroes have powers that most humans do not. They can fly like Super-
man or enjoy superior agility and reaction times, like Spider-Man and Catwoman.
Most have inhuman strength, but those who do not have superior knowledge, in-
telligence, and guile. The most direct challenge to the limits of being human is
made in the X-Men movies, where some of those who mutate can control nature,
space and time, and the human mind. Storm, for example, has power over weather,
Nightcrawler can psychically teleport at will, Cyclops can destroy objects by look-
ing at them, Magneto can manipulate an object’s magnetic field, and Professor X
can manipulate the minds of others, controlling their actions and even shutting
down their bodies.
 Superheroes | 413

Superheroes are not gods, however, because they are not immortal. Comic
book fans are used to seeing favorite characters die, only to be resurrected in some
form or another, and this convention will likely make its way into the movies. But
resurrection is not immortality, so in the end, these movies are not about such re-
ligious questions as gods or the afterlife. They speak to our ideas about ourselves
and our humanity.
Beth Davies-Stofka
See also: Animated Films; Posthumanism; Science Fiction.

Further Reading
Forbes, Bruce David. “Batman Crucified: Religion and Modern Superheroes.” Media
Development 44, no. 4 (1997): 10–12.
Kozloff, Sarah. “Superman as Savior: Christian Allegory in the Superman Movies.” Jour-
nal of Popular Film and Television 9, no. 2 (1981): 78–82.
Muir, John Kenneth. The Encyclopedia of Superheroes on Film and Television. Jefferson,
NC: McFarland, 2004.
Oropeza, B. J. The Gospel According to Superheroes: Religion and Pop Culture. New
York: Peter Lang, 2005.
T

Tarantino, Quentin (1963– )

Quentin Tarantino is perhaps the most famous and influential figure in the in-
dependent film renaissance of the early 1990s; his filmography reveals a deep
interest in loyalty, fate, and redemption, often illustrated through the manipula-
tion of time. Self-taught as a screenwriter and director with a deep appreciation of
low-status genre movies (Italian giallo, martial arts, “blaxploitation,” “spaghetti”
westerns, and heist pictures),
Tarantino brings an upmarket sen-
sibility and philosophical sophis-
tication to his B-movie material.
In particular, critics have noticed
some religious themes and refer-
ences running through Pulp Fic-
tion (1994), which received the
Palme d’Or at the 1994 Cannes
Film Festival.
It may seem odd to identify
Tarantino as a filmmaker with a
religious vision. His trademarks
are shocking violence and casu-
ally profane conversation among
low-life criminals. These skills
first came to light in his celebrated
screenplays for True Romance
(1993), made with fellow video-
store employee and future film-
maker Roger Avary, and Natural American directory Quentin Tarantino at the Academy
Born Killers (1994); they were Awards ceremony, 2010. AP Photo/Matt Sayles.

415
416 | Tarantino, Quentin

confirmed with the release of Reservoir Dogs (1992), his first feature, an R-rated
depiction of a robbery gone wrong.
Pulp Fiction, however, married crime and torture plots and amoral characters
to a complex exploration of good and evil in the hearts of men. The movie inter-
twines four story lines: (1) Two hit men (Jules and Vincent) chitchat on the job;
(2) their boss Marsellus’s wife Mia parties with Vincent and overdoses; (3) a boxer
(Butch) contemplates throwing the big fight; and (4) two robbers (“Pumpkin”
and “Honey Bunny”) hold up a diner. The “Pumpkin and Honey Bunny” subplot
brackets the film, half of it shown at the movie’s opening and half at its conclusion.
Chronologically, however, this long scene at the diner actually takes place midway
through the movie’s time line. It serves as a convenient illustration of Tarantino’s
strategy of rearranging time in order to provide a kind of cinematic “resurrection”
for his characters and to illustrate visually the redemption they undergo.
After the first half of the diner scene, where the robbers are talking themselves
into the robbery and the hit men are enjoying a snack, the film flashes back to
Vincent and Jules on their mission to recover a mysterious briefcase for their boss,
Marsellus. With his gun trained on the frightened college boys who have the brief-
case, Jules delivers a lengthy biblical monologue:

There’s a passage I got memorized, seems appropriate for this situation: Ezekiel
25:17. “The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the
selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and
good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his
brother’s keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee
with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy
my brothers. And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance
upon you.”

Tarantino here embellishes feverishly upon the King James Version of this
passage: “And I will execute great vengeance upon them with furious rebukes; and
they shall know that I [am] the LORD, when I shall lay my vengeance upon them.”
The elaboration is an homage to Sonny Chiba, star and hero of many kung-fu
epics, who often delivered biblically styled narration nearly identical to the one
used by Tarantino here.
Jules’s sermonizing is not an isolated occurrence. When we return to the diner
in the last sequence of the film, he repeats the same “quotation,” but he adds com-
mentary suggesting deeper reflection:

I been sayin’ that shit for years. And if you ever heard it, it meant your ass.
I never gave much thought what it meant. I just thought it was some cold-blooded
shit to say to a motherfucker before I popped a cap in his ass. I saw some shit
this mornin’ made me think twice. See now I’m thinkin’, maybe it means you’re
 Tarantino, Quentin | 417

the evil man. And I’m the righteous man. And Mr. Nine Millimeter here, he’s the
shepherd protecting my righteous ass in the valley of darkness. Or it could mean
you’re the righteous man and I’m the shepherd and it’s the world that’s evil and
selfish. Now I’d like that. But that shit ain’t the truth. The truth is you’re the weak.
And I’m the tyranny of evil men. But I’m tryin’, Ringo. I’m tryin’ real hard to be
the shepherd.

Before his arrival at the diner and his attempt with these words to foil Pumpkin
and Honey Bunny’s robbery, Jules has undergone an awakening. At the apartment
where he and Vincent retrieve the briefcase, they are ambushed by an assailant
wielding a submachine-gun who was hiding in a bathroom. When none of the bul-
lets strike the hit men, Jules begins to wonder why. Ultimately he decides that his
life has been spared by divine intervention and vows to give up his violent ways.
That resolve is tested at the diner, when his gun seems to be the only way to stop
the violence and save the innocents terrorized by Pumpkin and Honey Bunny—
and perhaps to save the robbers themselves.
While Jules’s story line contains the most overt religious references, Taran-
tino sprinkles other redemptions and resurrections throughout Pulp Fiction. Mia,
the high-maintenance wife of Jules’s boss Marsellus, overdoses on heroin, which,
after spending an evening being entertained by Vincent, she mistakes for cocaine.
Panicking, Vincent enlists his drug dealer for help in reviving the comatose Mia
by stabbing her in the heart with a syringe of adrenaline. Mia suddenly returns to
life and agrees to keep her overdose secret from her husband, forming a bond with
Vincent against her husband. The boxer Butch Coolidge, in turn, saves Marsellus
from a sadistic rape and torture dungeon. The two agree to release their mutual
hold on each other; Marsellus agrees to stop pursuing Butch for winning the fight
he had agreed to throw, while Butch agrees to keep Marsellus’s degrading emas-
culation a secret. Thus Tarantino culminates each story line in an act of shared
redemption, with the characters granting each other freedom from a past that had
enslaved them.
Perhaps the most touching resurrection, however, comes in the final install-
ment of the diner scene at the conclusion of the film. Since this scene chronologi-
cally takes place in the middle of the film’s time line, we have already seen what
happens to Vincent and Jules after they leave the diner. In a shockingly offhanded
moment, Butch kills a momentarily off-guard Vincent as he emerges from the
bathroom in Butch’s apartment. Vincent, a good-natured if dimwitted character,
has been the source of much warmth and comedy in the film so far, yet his death
is passed over without a second glance as the film continues to focus on Butch’s
predicament. When the film finally goes back to the diner scene, however, Vincent
has been “resurrected” through the miracle of cinematic art. Tarantino grants us
a second chance to spend time with this character, one of the few who does not
418 | Tarantino, Quentin

change his life in recognition of the momentousness of the redemptions he experi-

ences. Yet the director, playing a merciful God overseeing his characters’ world,
allows him his resurrection nonetheless.
Religious themes have been more muted in Tarantino’s work since Pulp
Fiction. Jackie Brown (1997), an adaptation of the 1992 Elmore Leonard novel
Rum Punch, focuses on a middle-aged stewardess who has gotten caught up in a
money-laundering scheme perpetrated by the vicious (if none too bright) gangster
Ordell. Pressured by government agents to double-cross Ordell, Jackie decides to
take matters into her own hands; with the help of a sympathetic bail bondsman,
she crosses everyone to get the funds for her escape. Tarantino portrays Jackie as
a woman fiercely loyal to those who deserve it but whose autonomy prevents her
from being anyone’s pawn. In a pair of long sequences that together comprise the
last third of the film, Tarantino dramatizes two different perspectives on Jackie’s
bold “money switch,” which fooled both the gangsters and the government. This
repetition allows us to understand not only the mechanics of the triple-cross but
also the evolution of Jackie’s character as she claims control of her own destiny.
Kill Bill (2003, 2004), a lengthy samurai epic/western released in two parts,
is a revenge fantasy wherein the bride hunts down all those responsible for a mas-
sacre at her wedding. A lengthy “buried alive” sequence, in which the bride must
escape from a coffin in the desert, has resurrection overtones, although the scene
is played for thrills rather than for theme. (It closely resembles a scene in the 2005
finale of the television series CSI [CBS, 2000–present] written and directed by
Tarantino.) Kill Bill appears to be less reflective and character-driven than Taran-
tino’s previous works; it indulges in long, complex action set pieces, features that
in other films were previously downplayed in favor of incidental (yet revealing)
dialogue. Themes of parenthood and childhood predominate as the bride seeks her
stolen child and exacts revenge from her mentor and father figure.
Although Tarantino’s background does not provide any particular reason to
expect prominent religious themes in his work, his affinity for genre filmmaking
makes religious content a natural fit. The crime, martial arts, and western genres
sketch their cultures on film with broad strokes and exhibit a strong sense of mo-
rality, honored even—or especially—in the breach. In addition, Tarantino is fasci-
nated by the problems of destiny and free will; he illustrates them through film’s
unique ability to rearrange time and tease apart the strands leading up to crisis
moments in the lives of his characters. These obsessions, should they continue
throughout Tarantino’s career, provide an opportunity for much religious content
in his future films.
Donna Bowman
See also: Leone, Sergio; Westerns.
 Tarkovsky, Andrei | 419

Further Reading
Brintnall, Kent L. “Tarantino’s Incarnational Theology: Reservoir Dogs, Crucifixions, and
Spectacular Violence.” Cross Currents 54, no. 1 (2004): 66–75.
Davis, Todd F., and Kenneth Womack. “Shepherding the Weak: The Ethics of Redemp-
tion in Quentin Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction.” Literature/Film Quarterly 26, no. 1 (1998):
60–66.
Irwin, Mark. “Pulp and the Pulpit: The Films of Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez.”
Literature and Theology 12, no. 1 (1998): 70–81.
Peary, Gerald. Quentin Tarantino: Interviews. Oxford: University Press of Mississippi,
1998.
Woods, Paul A. King Pulp: The Wild World of Quentin Tarantino. London: Plexus, 1996.

Tarkovsky, Andrei (1932–1986)

Of all Russian filmmakers, arguably the most spiritually serious and enigmatic
is Andrei Arsenyevich Tarkovsky. Tarkovsky’s seven feature films form an ex-
traordinary canon of existential and spiritual art, sometimes explicitly religious
and at other times only metaphorically so. In each case, the viewer is asked to
journey with a protagonist in metaphysical crisis with no simple or unadulterated
solution.
Tarkovsky, son of the poet Arseny Tarkovsky, grew up in the Soviet system of
official state atheism but remained a believer, if a somewhat guarded one, steeped
in the Russian Orthodox tradition. Religious sentiments and ideas pervade his
writings and interviews, yet he always avoids directly revealing the extent of his
devotion to the church. Some writers have argued that he resisted explicit public
pronouncement of his beliefs in order to appease authorities within Goskino, the
state-governed film ministry of the Soviet Union. However, even after his defec-
tion in July 1984, he continued to express a high degree of ambiguity about his
personal beliefs. Whatever the specific nature of Tarkovsky’s own faith, his work
demonstrates clear affinities to the 19th-century Russian literary tradition, particu-
larly the works of Fyodor Dostoyevsky, in its complex treatment of faith, morality,
and redemption.
Tarkovsky’s first feature film was Ivanovo Destvo (My Name is Ivan, 1962),
the story of a 12-year-old boy doing field reconnaissance for the Soviet army
in World War II. Although the film contains no clear religious themes, it intro-
duces several motifs important in Tarkovsky’s work, most of which would be used
with spiritual implications in later films. Foremost among these is a nonlinear plot
structure that moves freely between reality, dream, and memory. Another motif,
420 | Tarkovsky, Andrei

related to Tarkovsky’s visual style,

is an emphasis on long meditative
shots, often of raw, elemental sub-
jects such as trees, soil, and water.
It is in his second film that
Tarkovsky most deeply explores
religious questions of doubt, re-
demption, morality, and spiritual
striving. The film, Andrey Rublyov
(Andrei Rublev, 1966), portrays, in
a loose episodic form, the life of
a 15th-century Russian monk and
icon painter. A profound and deeply
complex film, Rublev is widely re-
garded as a masterpiece of spiritual
cinema. At its core is a passive pro-
tagonist struggling with his own
devotion to God and to his art, as
well as, later in the film, his guilt
over having killed a man to protect
Russian director Andrei Tarkovsky at the Cannes
International Film Festival, 1983. AP Photo. a peasant girl during a brutal attack
on the town of Vladimir. As Rublev
moves through the world, his faith in the goodness of people is constantly chal-
lenged by the brutality and greed of those around him. Throughout, a series of
minor and supporting characters serve as foils or complements to his inner tumult.
Theophanes the Greek, his mentor, challenges his optimistic view of humanity as
Tarkovsky invites the viewer to witness Christ’s passion as set in a 15th-century
Russian winter. A pagan woman challenges Rublev’s chastity as well as his Chris-
tianity. A young bell caster makes his own desperate leap of faith, in the process
redeeming both himself and Rublev. In Sculpting in Time (1986), his book on film
esthetics, Tarkovsky writes, “For me the most interesting characters are outwardly
static, but inwardly charged with energy by an overriding passion.” He is referring
to the child in My Name Is Ivan, but his remark also applies perfectly to Rublev as
well as to the principals in Tarkovsky’s subsequent films.
Although it was completed in 1966, Andrei Rublev had a remarkably troubled
path to release. Whereas copies of the film found audiences in the West through
a variety of means, the film was not released in the Soviet Union until 1971. One
might think that it was the religious content of the film that was the sticking point
with Soviet authorities. However, their censorial concerns had more to do with
what was seen as the film’s embarrassingly cruel portrayal of medieval Russia.
Interestingly, the film’s structural complexity was another point of contention, and
 Tarkovsky, Andrei | 421

officials at both Goskino and Mosfilm (the largest of the Soviet state film studios)
regarded it as an overly indulgent exercise in elitist esthetics. This is an issue that
would trouble Tarkovsky’s Soviet work throughout the 1970s.
Tarkovsky made three films in the 1970s, all in the Soviet Union. This mid-
dle period of his work is characterized by a refinement—to an almost baroque
degree—of the stylistic and narrative motifs explored in My Name Is Ivan and
Andrei Rublev. None of these three films—Solyaris (Solaris, 1972), Zerkalo (The
Mirror, 1975), and Stalker (1979)—deal explicitly with the subject of religion.
But all three explore existential issues through sometimes labyrinthine nonlinear
structural approaches. Solaris is commonly characterized as a science fiction film
and is often compared to Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) for its use
of the science fiction genre as a strategy for communicating deeper ideas on the
nature of knowledge and being. Mirror is an autobiographical work, but one with
almost no discernible plot. Representing the apex of Tarkovsky’s nonlinear and
dreamlike approaches, Mirror is metaphysical without being overtly spiritual.
Stalker, however, is replete with spiritual themes, although it almost never
dwells specifically on the religious. In some sense, Stalker, like Solaris, is a sci-
ence fiction film. It follows three men through a postapocalyptic wilderness in
search of a magical room where one’s “deepest, innermost desires” are granted.
Despite this central plot conceit, however, the film contains none of the trappings
of science fiction that, in Tarkovsky’s own view, diminished the power of Solaris.
Although Tarkovsky always insisted that he disdained symbolism and avoided it
in his films, it is difficult not to see the journey of the three men in Stalker as a
spiritual quest. They travel through a landscape supposedly full of mortal danger,
yet no clear threats present themselves. They are frequently petrified by indecision
and inaction. The Stalker himself, who serves as the guide of the two other men,
frequently quotes scripture and bemoans the loss faith in society. He is, in a way,
an incarnation of another of Tarkovsky’s tropes, the Russian archetype of the holy
fool, seen also in the figure of Durochka in Andrei Rublev and of Domenico in
Nostalghia (Nostalgia, 1982). The holy fool is a figure whose apparent insanity
is deemed to be a mystical connection with God. Yet Tarkovsky rejects dogmatic
faith or allegiance to a specific theology in favor of spiritual struggle itself. As Vida
Johnson and Graham Petrie state in their book The Films of Andrei Tarkovsky: A
Visual Fugue (1994), “Though there is much explicit Christian reference here, the
overall pattern of the film tends more toward a general framework in which faith,
spirituality, and art (none of them seen as exclusively Christian attributes) are set
against materialism, cynicism, and disbelief, with the oppositions clearly demar-
cated in the relationship between Stalker and his two companions.”
The period between Stalker and Nostalgia was tumultuous for Tarkovsky.
Soon after the release of Stalker, he began production on what was to be his next
film, Peryy Dyen (The First Day). However, an ideological dispute with Goskino
422 | Tarkovsky, Andrei

authorities caused the project to be permanently shelved halfway through primary

shooting. Unlike in the case of Andrei Rublev, this time the disagreement was
explicitly related to religion. The script for the film that had been approved by
Goskino did not include several scenes that were in the script from which Tark-
ovsky was working—scenes that were unflinchingly critical of the Soviet state’s
official atheism. When Goskino censors halted production, Tarkovsky destroyed
what he could of the footage already shot, compromising his status with Goskino
and Mosfilm. Film officials considered ending his career, but his international
prestige made such an option unattractive. He was permitted to travel to Italy in
late 1979 to develop a film to be set there; it would later become Nostalgia. He
returned to Italy for shooting in early 1982, but with no financial support from
Mosfilm and relying now on Italian and French funding.
Nostalgia tells the story of a Andrei, a Russian writer, who is in Italy to do
research for a book and suffers from feelings of spiritual detachment from his
homeland and those he loves. (As with Andrei Rublev, the fact that the protagonist
is named Andrei and bears certain similarities to Tarkovsky have led scholars to
interpret both films as being at least allegorically autobiographical.) He meets and
develops a close kinship with Domenico, arguably Tarkovsky’s fullest realization
of the holy fool archetype. Like the Stalker, Domenico laments the loss of faith
found in modern society but believes the world can be redeemed by a sacrificial
act. The act Domenico advocates, however, is deeply enigmatic. A man must carry
a candle from one end of a drained pool outside a cathedral to the other without
letting the flame go out. However, before Domenico himself does this, he engages
in a far more direct form of sacrifice by publicly immolating himself in protest of
spiritual decline. At the end of the film, in one of Tarkovsky’s most remarkable
extended shots, Andrei completes Domenico’s task, redeeming if not the world, at
least himself.
In 1984, while working in Sweden on what would become his final film, Offret
(The Sacrifice, 1986), Tarkovsky severed any remaining ties to his homeland by
officially announcing his defection. The Sacrifice remains, after Andrei Rublev, his
most overtly religious film. It also joins Stalker and Nostalgia in a kind of thematic
trilogy: All three films emphasize the importance of individual moral responsibil-
ity by placing the protagonist in the position of averting a catastrophe through an
act of spiritual sacrifice. In The Sacrifice, the central figure of Alexander watches
as the world nears a nuclear apocalypse. In his fear he prays, promising to give
up all that is dear to him in order to avoid war. In an act every bit as unexpected
as the “sacrifice” of Nostalgia, Alexander, at the prodding of his friend Otto, sleeps
with a local witch named Maria. War is miraculously avoided (though the film is
equivocal as to whether or not the threat was real or only in Alexander’s head), but
Alexander realizes his true sacrifice when his home burns down and he is taken to
 Theology and Film | 423

an asylum. Again, there are shadows of Rublev as Tarkovsky mixes Christian and
pagan motifs and focuses not on belief but on the yearning for the divine.
While The Sacrifice was in preproduction, Tarkovsky was diagnosed with
brain cancer. After the film was completed, he moved to Paris for what he knew
would be his final days. In an interview for France-Culture, which would be one
of his last, he reflected:

Art is one of those precious moments in which we resemble the Creator. That
is why I have never believed in art which would be independent of the supreme
Creator, I don’t believe in art without God. The raison d’etre of art is a prayer, it’s
my prayer. If this prayer, if my films can bring people to God, so much the better.
My life would then take on its sense, the essential sense of “serving.” But I would
never impose it: to serve does not mean to conquer.

By this measure, he succeeded. Believers, nonbelievers, and searchers of every

stripe have found in his work a nearly bottomless well of theological, philosophi-
cal, and moral inspiration for their own struggles with the divine.
Stuart Minnis
See also: Belief; End-of-the-World Films; Kubrick, Stanley; Mysticism; Russia;
Science Fiction.

Further Reading
Leyda, Jay. Kino: A History of Russian and Soviet Film, 3rd ed. Princeton, NJ: Princeton
University Press, 1983.
Liehm, Mira, and Antonin J. Liehm. The Most Important Art: Soviet and East European
Film After 1945. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1977.
Robinson, Jeremy Mark. The Sacred Cinema of Andrei Tarkovsky. Kent, UK: Crescent
Moon Publishing, 2008.
Shlapentokh, Dmitry, and Vladimir Shlapentokh. Soviet Cinematography, 1917–1991:
Ideological Conflict and Social Reality. New York: Aldine/de Gruyter, 1993.
Tarkovsky, Andrey. Sculpting in Time: Reflections on the Cinema. Translated by Kitty
Hunter-Blair. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1987.

Theology and Film

The many theological approaches to film may be grouped into five major catego-
ries. The first, “theology against film,” is a position in opposition to film. Many of
the early justifications for criticizing films and rejecting the cinema were couched
424 | Theology and Film

in theological or moral terms. A good number of books, tracts, and pamphlets

were produced early in the 20th century that encouraged their readers to avoid
the cinema. For example, in The Devil’s Camera (1932), the authors argue that
films can corrupt the moral lives and spiritual imaginations of viewers. For them,
cinema was “the greatest lie of all time because it is grossly misrepresenting life.”
In What Is Wrong with the Movies? (1938), John Rice forcefully argues that the
“movie industry is the enemy of God” and Christians should “quit the movies for
ever.”
Nevertheless, most early critical accounts rarely espoused a complete rejec-
tion of cinema. Several authors devoted chapters to celebrating the educative or
moral potential of films. Their main criticisms were leveled at the morals of the
film industry and the perceived impact of specific films. Although the majority of
these critical accounts fall largely within the Christian tradition, they are also to
be found embedded in other religious traditions. For instance, in 1904, Sheykh
Fazlollah Nuri, a leading Muslim cleric, proscribed Iran’s first public cinema,
causing to it being closed down little more than four weeks after its opening.
The actual theological grounds for rejecting moving pictures vary from coun-
try to country. There are similarities, however—such as concerns about depicting
the divine visually and thereby flouting the injunctions against idolatry found in the
Abrahamic religions. Few countries have seen the burning of cinemas, such as that
which followed the Iranian revolution in 1979, but the iconoclastic tradition is still
alive in some places, particularly among older generations of believers or funda-
mentalists who continue to see the cinema as a profoundly negative force.
In the second category, “theology through film,” theologians use film for theo-
logical purposes. Although there were many critical voices, it is sometimes over-
looked that in the early days of cinema, other religious leaders made extensive
use of film for both proselytizing and teaching purposes. This followed from the
practice in the 19th century of presenting talks illustrated by magic lantern dis-
plays. These had taken place in a host of venues, from cathedrals to revival tents.
Short films were at first integrated into multimedia displays and then even used
on their own in buildings normally reserved for worship. This was partly because
cathedrals, churches and synagogues were among the largest public buildings be-
fore the appearance of purpose-built cinemas.
In the West during the “silent era,” a number of explicitly religious films were
produced, with the Gospels providing the subject matter. One reason filmmakers
drew on these sacred texts was because audiences knew the basic narrative and
therefore did not need to have the plot explained through caption cards. Another
motivation was that by producing films based upon sacred narratives, filmmakers
were able to distance themselves from the more sordid or questionable associa-
tions that moving pictures had attracted.
 Theology and Film | 425

One of the most vigorous early defenses of film as an effective vehicle for
communicating theological insight was written in 1911 by the Reverend Herbert
Jump. He drew upon the Parable of the Good Samaritan as a dramatic precedent
for cinema, not only to justify but also to encourage the use of film for religious
teaching. This is not a systematic theology of film but more a practically based ap-
ologia for its use. The pastoral tone of his work is some distance from more recent
theological accounts of film. For instance, in Theology Through Film (1970), Hur-
ley sets out a “cinematic theology.” He famously begins by asserting that “movies
are for the masses what theology is for an élite.” He attempts, for example, to trace
transcendence through a number of contemporary films, suggesting that it is pos-
sible to identify signs of grace on the screen.
In the last two decades there has been a proliferation of accounts of film as
a channel through which theological truths, questions, and themes can be ex-
pressed. For some writers, film is a rich mine to be quarried for theological in-
sights or analogies. So for example, The Matrix (1999) became a film that was
widely discussed, debated, and interpreted not only by Christian writers but also
by Buddhists, who found it to point more to enlightenment than to resurrection.
More nuanced accounts of theology through film, such as those outlined by Clive
Marsh in Theology Goes to the Movies (2007), recognize the limitations of this
approach. Marsh acknowledges that there is a danger of merely seeking to “ex-
tract” the package of theology expressed through film. Nevertheless, he affirms
this process to be a kind of “practical theology” that encompasses a “critical dia-
logue between film and the Christian tradition”—an approach discussed further
on in this section.
The third category, “theology in film,” finds theological meaning in film. Some
see film less as channel or vehicle for theological illumination and more as a site
of theological insight. This means that they devote their energies not only to high-
lighting explicit theology but also to uncovering hidden theology in films. Other
writers go even further, seeing the cinema as a place with the potential to meet
with “the divine.” Catholic author and film critic Andrew Greeley supports such a
view, claiming that film, as part of popular culture is a “locus theologicus, a theo-
logical place—the locale in which one may encounter God.” In God in the Movies
(2000), he claims that cinema is a place where viewers can encounter the divine.
For Greeley, it is not simply the explicitly religious films that can become a loca-
tion of engagement with the sacred but also those which deal with other significant
topics, such as death (Flatliners [1990]), grief (Truly Madly Deeply [1990]), or
feasting (Babettes gaestebud [Babettte’s Feast, 1987]). Other recent writers claim
to look for and even find God “in the movies,” including popular blockbusters
such as Star Wars (1977) or Superman: The Movie (1978). They invariably admit
that this is an arduous task, similar in Roy Anker’s trying to “catch light.”
426 | Theology and Film

The experience of watching a film is likened to a “hierophany” by Michael

Bird, who describes it as “disclosure of the transcendent or sacred through the
material of reality.” In this context “the material of reality” is understood to be
films, which can witness to realities beyond our own world. He draws upon
the work of the French director Robert Bresson and in particular Journal d’un
curé de campange (A Diary of a Country Priest, 1951). Here theology is rarely
to be found in detailed abstract discussions and more commonly in lively con-
versations and the embodiment of suffering by the young priest. From this per-
spective theology is brought alive in a narrative and embodied context. This
does not necessarily mean that the theology embodied on screen offers conclu-
sive answers.
For example, the Swedish director Ingmar Bergman, especially during the
1950s and early 1960s, repeatedly expressed his theological angst on screen. In
Det Sjunde Inseglet (The Seventh Seal, 1957), the knight seeks out knowledge
in the face of death personified. In the confessional scene, there is the following
dialogue:

Death: What are you waiting for?

Knight: Knowledge.
Death: You want a guarantee.
Knight: Call it what you will. . . . What will become of us, who want to believe
but cannot? And what of those, who neither will nor can believe? . . .
I want knowledge. Not belief. Not suppositions. But knowledge.
I want God to put out His hand, show His face, speak to me.

Block’s journey in The Seventh Seal resonates with Bergman’s own experi-
ence: a search for a silent God in the face of both death and human love. Bergman
is a rare example of a director who acknowledges some basis to his cinematic
search in theological thinking. Many directors tend to express theological or reli-
gious themes without formally naming them as such. The theme emerges from the
narrative because it is expressive of primal fears, aspirations, and predispositions,
not because it has been consciously planted there. The continued popularity of
many Bergman films, especially his more explicitly religious films such as The
Seventh Seal, reflects how this cinematic poet of modernity continues to speak
to a new generation of postmodern viewers, some of whom have moved beyond
inquiring after the absence of God to questioning how a multiplicity of beliefs can
coexist peacefully.
Category four, “theology and film,” develops the idea that theology and film
can be in dialogue with each other—a popular theme among contemporary writers
working in the area of film and religion. This expresses itself in different ways.
 Theology and Film | 427

First, a wide range of biblical scholars have turned their attention to studying the
relation between film and biblical texts. For instance, Robert Jewett writes of an
“interpretative arch” that connects a film such as Star Wars with specific Pauline
texts. Larry Kreitzer has developed a triadic approach, drawing together a spe-
cific biblical text, a particular film, and the original novel. Although the texts can
illuminate the film, he reverses the “hermeneutical flow” to explore how the film
might interrogate or shed light upon the texts. Adele Reinhartz, in Scripture on
the Silver Screen, uses films such as The Truman Show (1998) to help her readers
explore biblical texts such as the book of Genesis. In each of these three examples,
film is perceived in different ways to illuminate ancient sacred texts. One concern
raised about the approaches of Jewett, Kreitzer, and Reinhartz is the tendency
to rely upon literary models of film criticism rather than embracing the rich re-
sources of film theory, such as various psychoanalytically based or spectator-led
approaches. The perceived danger is that the attempt to “read” a film turns it into
something that it is not: a written text. Films cannot be reduced to mere words to
be analyzed. Other skills, such as visual interpretation, are required to analyze the
dialogue between theology and film.
Second, there are a number of theologians who wish to celebrate theology
and film in dialogue. One of the leading North American exponents of this ap-
proach over the last decade is Robert Johnston, who—in Reel Spirituality—makes
a strong case for taking a film on its own terms before attempting to initiate a
dialogue. He is keen not to impose a theologically inspired interpretation or an
ethical evaluation. In the second edition of his book (2007), he moves on from jus-
tifying theological engagement with film to exploring in even greater detail how
this process can be developed. Dialogue between theology and film, for Johnston,
will lead to openness to others and the mystery of “the other.”
There are few detailed or systematic “theologies of film,” our final category.
It is possible however, to uncover in many of these books an unstated theology
of film. For example, in Images of the Passion (1998), Peter Fraser examines the
films that, in his opinion best portray Christ’s passion, describing them as sac-
ramental films. For Fraser, “the sacramental film allows for the appropriation of
spiritual presence sought by the devotional writers, but in a public experience.”
Fraser suggests that if the Diary of a Country Priest is embraced as the director
Bresson intended, viewers “will be brought into a sacramental experience with the
living God.” This is a hard claim to verify, but it does exemplify a belief that film
can illuminate the viewer. Beneath his assertion lies a particular theology of rev-
elation and an understanding of the sacramental potential of cinema. For Fraser,
the sacramental film can become an object of “mystical contemplation,” and he
predicts that in the future films may well become “more prominent in popular
practices of Christian piety.”
428 | Theology and Film

This prediction does not appear so far fetched with the production of A Movie
Lectionary entitled Lights Camera . . . Faith! (2001, 2002, 2003) by Peter Malone
with Rose Pacatte. This series of three books bring specific films into dialogue with
the Catholic Lectionary Gospel readings. Part of the vision behind this trilogy is
to encourage church leaders to use film in the context of worship, as part of the
homily or postcommunion meditation. The encouragement to integrate films into
worship is reminiscent of the use of motion pictures in church meetings or even
in worship services during the early 20th century. Like many of the other authors
discussed above, they do not set out a detailed theology of film. Instead, these
books further reflect on how film is now perceived by some as a potential catalyst
for prayer, devotion, and even revelation.
What would a theology of film look like? Although there are no complete
answers to this question, it is instructive to muse upon what it might include. First,
an awareness of the priority of story or narrative in both ancient texts and cin-
ema; second, an understanding of the significance of seeing and vision in religious
traditions and in watching films; third, a critical insight into the processes, the
constraints, and historical contingencies out of which both a film and a religious
tradition or text emerge; and fourth, the recognition of the incompleteness not only
of human speech but also of cinematic expression. There is a sense in which, in
attempting to engage with or analyze an invisible God, all forms of human com-
munication and cinematic expression are provisional and incomplete.
We have set out what could be described as the rejectionist, functional, il-
luminative, dialogical, and reflective approaches to the film theology relation. As
we have seen, these categories inevitably blur, with some authors and commenta-
tors engaged in promoting theology and film as well as theology through film.
Although most writers have moved beyond the theology against film paradigm,
few authors have attempted to set out a sustained theology of film. More common
are those who seek to identify the theology in film and the potential for dynamic
dialogue between film and theology.
These five approaches may inevitably have left out other significant issues.
Several developments can be identified. First, there is the move toward consider-
ing the audience, taking into account the ways in which audiences themselves
create theologies around films. The Internet provides a vast number of sites to
discuss and develop different theologies of film. Second, there is the move beyond
Hollywood, as increasingly theologians are looking to films produced outside
North America. There is a growing awareness of the cinematic riches to be found
in Asian, African, South American, European, and Middle Eastern films. These
diverse cinematic territories raise new theological questions and old questions
in new ways. Third, there is a move toward ethics. This means that theologians
and theological ethicists are using film in their writing and teaching. This can go
 Tolkin, Michael | 429

beyond the ethics embedded in individual narratives to the study of the ethics of
how films are produced, distributed, and enjoyed.
Jolyon P. Mitchell
See also: Bergman, Ingmar; Bresson, Robert; Catholicism; The Matrix Trilogy;
Protestantism; Ritual.

Note
This entry draws upon and adapts material from “Theology and Film.” In The Modern
Theologians, 3rd ed., edited by David Ford and Rachel Muers, 736–759. Oxford, UK:
Blackwell, 2005.

Further Reading
Clarke, Anthony J., and Paul S. Fiddes, eds. Flickering Images: Theology and Film in
Dialogue. Macon, GA: Smyth and Helwys, 2005.
Deacy, Christopher, and Gaye Williams Ortiz. Theology and Film: Challenging the Sacred/
Secular Divide. Malden, MA: Blackwell, 2008.
Johnston, Robert K., ed. Reframing Theology and Film: New Focus for an Emerging Dis-
cipline. Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 2007.
Marsh, Clive. “A Feast of Learning: On Using Film in Theological Education.” British
Journal of Theological Education 5, no. 2 (1992/1993): 33–43.
Marsh, Clive. Theology Goes to the Movies. New York: Routledge, 2007.
Mitchell, Jolyon. “Theology and Film.” In The Modern Theologians, edited by David Ford.
Oxford, UK: Blackwell, 2005.
Stone, Bryan P. Faith and Film: Theological Themes at the Cinema. St. Louis, MO: Chal-
ice Press, 2000.

Tolkin, Michael (1950– )

Journalist-turned-novelist Michael Tolkin has written and worked on several promi-

nent screenplays and directed two feature films that deal directly with religious sub-
jects. He was born in New York City in 1950, the son of TV comedy writer Mel Tolkin
and Paramount executive Edith Tolkin. The family moved to Los Angeles when
Michael was 10 years old, and his film work reveals a fascination with the California
milieu. Briefly a folklore and religion major at Middlebury College, he graduated
with a degree in journalism and worked as a features writer in New York, where his
work appeared in such publications as the Village Voice and the Daily News. He then
had a brief stint in television story editing before his first modest film success, the
screenplay for the Christian Slater skateboarding drama Gleaming the Cube (1989).
430 | Tolkin, Michael

Tolkin broke through as a filmmaker with his directorial debut, The Rapture
(1991), an elliptical tale of a licentious woman who converts to an apocalyptic
Christian sect. His screenplays for the top-flight thriller Deep Cover (1992) and
the darkly satirical Hollywood murder mystery The Player (1992; adapted from
Tolkin’s novel and directed by Robert Altman) established his obsession with
characters searching for values in an ambiguously moral, thoroughly existential
universe. Tolkin then wrote and directed The New Age (1994), a comedy about
a financially and relationally troubled California couple who open a trendy store
in Los Angeles. He wrote two novels (Deep Impact [1998] and Changing Lanes
[2002]) while continuing to work intermittently as a screenwriter. Studios fre-
quently turn to Tolkin for uncredited script rewrites (known as “polishes”); two
prominent examples are Mission: Impossible 2 (2000) and Hulk (2003). His sequel
Return of the Player was published in 2006.
An observant Jew, Tolkin creates characters with religious convictions that
are taken seriously both by the characters and by the story he weaves around
them. The Rapture is startling in its willingness to play out the consequences of
a fulfilled apocalyptic prophecy. In the first act, Sharon works in a call center cu-
bicle by day and participates in sexual experimentation and orgies by night. After
seeing a glowing sphere in her dreams, she hears her coworkers talking about “the
pearl” and has a religious experience that convinces her that the end of the world
is near. The second act of the film portrays a completely changed woman; she
marries, has children, and lives a devout, joyous existence centered on the immi-
nent return of Jesus. When the signs of the End begin appearing (trumpets, voices
from heaven, jail cells opening, and worldwide visions), she retreats to the desert
with her daughter to wait. But weeks pass and Jesus does not appear to take them
to heaven. Frustrated, she murders her daughter just before the Rapture. She finds
herself on a spiritual plain, with her daughter calling out to her from afar: Simply
repent of what you’ve done, the daughter tells her, and accept God’s perfect will,
and you will be saved and be with me and God forever. There, at the last impasse,
the final moment of choice, Sharon cannot forgive God for abandoning her in
the desert and forcing her hand. She refuses to submit her own moral sense to
God’s inscrutable one and is left stranded, forever separated from her daughter
and eternal bliss.
Tolkin follows the logic of many apocalyptic sects to its end point and critiques
its ultimate preference for divine power over divine goodness. Unlike an apocalyp-
tic thriller such as End of Days (1999), in The Rapture the details of God’s plan are
not part of the assumed fabric of the characters’ world; they are divine choices to
which humans respond. God ultimately has the power to set the rules about how to
obtain heavenly reward, yet Sharon refuses to acknowledge God’s moral authority,
judging that, based on her experience with God’s requirements, she would prefer
 Tolkin, Michael | 431

not to accept heaven on those terms. However, while it is certainly possible to

read the film as sympathetic to Sharon’s final choice, the film ends on a decidedly
tragic note. She does not gain anything (except, perhaps, her personal integrity)
by refusing to submit, and she loses paradise and her child. Like Dostoevsky, Tol-
kin examines the humanistic imperative to choose against an all-powerful, amoral
God, without the accompanying mitigating belief that happiness—or any kind of
triumph—is likely to follow.
The Rapture also represents a rare positive fictional portrayal of an apoca-
lyptic sect. The “pearl” group that Sharon joins leads her out of a nihilistic, he-
donistic, and ultimately lonely life into a connection with family and friends.
Although Tolkin seems a bit skeptical about the value of Sharon’s wholesale
transformation—the white-picket-fence, poplin-print-sundress lifestyle she adopts
is so diametrically opposed to her previous personality that it verges on satire—
there is no suggestion that her new religious community is parasitic, controlling,
or deluded. Prophetic cults and end-times fanatics almost never fare well in the
media, so The Rapture’s even-handed approach is notable.
By contrast, although the characters in The New Age take religion seriously,
Tolkin seems to judge them harshly for it. The religion in question is more spiritu-
ality than doctrine, and the characters’ allegiance to it is limited to its promise in
helping fill their empty lives with meaning and success. Peter (an agent) and Cath-
erine (a banker) are a Los Angeles power couple whose finances and marriage are
both in a downward spiral. In consultation with a private guru and a yoga instruc-
tor, they agree to live separately in the same house (pursuing separate affairs) and
to follow their bliss by opening an upper-crust clothing boutique called Hipocracy
(for “hip aristocracy”).
The film opens with the bald, bejeweled yoga instructor addressing the view-
ers directly, telling us to stop our thoughts and observe what unfolds in front of us.
Peter and Catherine are fully aware of how shallow they are but have no idea of
how to acquire depth. Trying to follow their guru’s instructions to “live the ques-
tions,” they decide that, since they enjoy buying $400 belts and talking, the answer
to their crises—marital, financial, and spiritual—is to open a store. Both reject
conventional morality in the quest for honest sexual pleasure. Peter’s usual line to
snare potential sexual partners at parties is “How’s your morality tonight?” When
the question is turned back at him, he replies: “I seem to have lost mine. I can’t
find it anywhere.” Yet their openness and honesty turn out to be as much of a sham
as the conventions of married life that they are attempting to reject.
New Age spiritual movements are portrayed as sincere but reliant on a kind of
shared agreement among the participants not to admit that nothing is really hap-
pening. As the couple set up their new store, their guru and his young blonde aco-
lyte direct them where to put the dressing rooms for the proper energy flow and to
432 | Tolkin, Michael

put mirrors behind the cash register to “double your wealth.” The spouses attempt
to make their own decisions by instinct and intuition but eagerly exchange their
own judgment to the direction of the guru. Later, after the store begins to fail and
the marriage continues on its downward track, Catherine participates in a drum
circle with her yoga instructor. After feathers are shaken over her and spirit ani-
mals are called, she leaves the circle, saying that she does not feel anything. The
New Agers are opportunistic and hedonistic, pursuing whatever practices interest
them without regard for whether the combinations make any sense. Peter attends
a party with two women who describe the attendees as “the usual art, spirituality,
and S&M crowd.”
At the center of the film there is an assisted suicide (via drugged yogurt) in-
volving a terminally ill friend of the couple. As this sick person dies, a woman
plays Buddhist tone bowls and talks about “the male and female principles” and
“going to the other side.” Questioned by Peter, she admits that she prefers to be-
lieve in an afterlife even though Buddhist traditions “don’t agree,” and that rituals
like the one she is performing “give comfort.” Later, after Peter reaches his lowest
point by bilking a flower shop owner with a telemarketing scam, Catherine invites
him to eat drugged yogurt in a suicide pact—but then reveals that the yogurt won’t
kill him and that she is filing for divorce. The film ends with Peter energetically
but cynically training a new group of telemarketers, using the same platitudes that
he had embraced from the lips of his gurus: “Did you know that the Chinese have
the same word for crisis and opportunity?”
In both The New Age and The Rapture, Tolkin acknowledges the power of re-
ligious or spiritual movements to change behavior and inject meaning into empty,
amoral lives. But he reveals deep distrust of communities that ask their adherents
to subsume their own judgment to the dogma of the group or its leader—even when
that leader is God. Tolkin’s world does not come with moral absolutes easily read-
able in its structure. Viewers must choose how to respond to its ambiguous mean-
ings. Even if the ultimate facts of the universe are clear, values and moral principles
remain a matter of free choice for the characters; they cannot simply be intuited or
adopted but must be won through difficult introspection and even suffering.
Donna Bowman
See also: Altman, Robert; End-of-the-World Films; Missionary Films; Protes-
tantism.

Further Reading
Falsetto, Mario. “Michael Tolkin.” In Personal Visions: Conversations with Contemporary
Film Directors, edited by Mario Falsetto, 503. Los Angeles: Silman-James Press, 2000.
 Trier, Lars von | 433

Tolkin, Michael. “Michael Tolkin.” In Why We Write: Personal Statements and Photo-
graphic Portraits of 25 Top Screenwriters, edited by Lorian Elbert, 139–162. Los Ange-
les: Silman-James Press, 1999.
Tolkin, Michael. The Player, The Rapture, and The New Age: Three Screenplays. New
York: Grove Press, 1995.

Trier, Lars von (1956– )

Lars von Trier is one of more compelling and controversial contemporary interna-
tional filmmakers working today. His films have been nominated for (or received)
dozens of prestigious film awards and are often a staple at the annual Cannes Film
Festival in France.
Born in a suburb of Denmark, Trier was raised by parents he describes as
cultural radicals and elitists whose politics leaned strongly to the left. Their child-
rearing techniques, which created for their children a very unstructured environ-
ment, meant that Trier had to
make his own decisions on virtu-
ally all issues, including whether
to go to the dentist, when to go to
bed, and whether or not to do his
homework. He blames this lack
of discipline for his later phobias,
anxieties, and issues with rules
and control. As a student, Trier
experienced a great deal of dif-
ficulty in school, where structure
contrasted strongly with his more
liberal background. His academic
work was not strong, but on his
second attempt he gained admis-
sion to the Danish Film Institute,
in which he enrolled as a college
student to become trained as a
director.
His work in film began at the
age of eight, when his mother
Danish director Lars von Trier at the Cannes
gave him a camera as a gift. He International Film Festival, 2005. AP Photo/Lionel
was also strongly influenced by Cironneau.
434 | Trier, Lars von

one of his uncles who was also a filmmaker. As a child, he made short films and
even performed as an actor in a Danish television show. At the Danish Film Insti-
tute, Trier was a very rebellious student, constantly challenging the instructors and
administrators. After he graduated, he would often say that he succeeded in spite
of the institute. However, his access to the tools of the directing trade enabled him
to continue to develop the skills with which he had arrived and helped to launch
him on a very successful career as a screenwriter and director. He is perhaps Den-
mark’s most visible filmmaker, and although he continues to maintain residence
in his country of origin, his influence has extended well beyond his native Den-
mark. As a filmmaker, he has worked in virtually all aspects of the industry. He
writes and directs his own films (occasionally in collaboration with others), but he
has also written and directed television programs, specifically Riget and Riget II
(The Kingdom and The Kingdom II, Danish Broadcasting Company, 1994/1997),
a combination ghost story, melodrama, and soap opera, quite popular in Denmark,
about the strange goings-on at a hospital haunted by the ghost of young woman.
He was the screenwriter of De unge år: Erik Nietzsche sagaen del 1 (The Early
Years: Erik Nietzsche, Part I, 2007)—a somewhat autobiographical story about a
young man who wants to go to film school—and Dear Wendy (2005)—about a
group of disenchanted teenagers who develop a gun club for pacifists. He has per-
formed as an actor in some of his own films, albeit usually in small roles. He has
created commercials and music videos, produced film, and is the coowner of his
own film company. His work has made him an international figure in the industry,
and he has garnered some of its highest awards.
Trier has always been particularly interested in film technique, and his films
attest to his creativity. For De fem benspænd (The Five Obstructions, 2003), Trier
challenged codirector Jørgen Leth to remake his own short classic film, Det per-
fekte menneske (The Perfect Human, 1967) five different times, each time with a
new restriction in filmmaking technique. The film Dimension, begun in the 1990s
and scheduled to be released in 2024, involves shooting for two minutes a year to
trace developments in Europe. Trier was also one of the founders of Dogme 95, a
new movement in film that, while originating in Denmark, spread internationally.
The movement was originally launched in the form of a manifesto written with
Thomas Vinterberg, another director. The idea was that all filmmakers work by
rules, whether implicit or explicit; the purpose of the manifesto was to identify
some general guidelines relating to film technique that would allow for more free-
dom in the creative process. Those filmmakers who agreed to the rules and made
a true Dogme film (in the view of the four Dogme brethren—Trier and Vinterberg,
later joined by Kristian Levring and Søren Kragh-Jacobsen) would receive a cer-
tificate certifying the film as an authentic Dogme 95 film. Even if some of the
rules were broken, it could still be designated and advertised as a Dogme film as
 Trier, Lars von | 435

long as it was made in the spirit of the Dogme rules. Trier himself made the first
(and his only) Dogme film, Idioterne (The Idiots), in 1998. The movement lasted
roughly from 1995 to 2002.
The techniques in Trier’s films are quite varied. Some utilize narrators and
chapter titles. Some have been accompanied by manifestos in which he makes
some kind of statement, generally about filmmaking. His films fit into a variety of
genres, including drama, horror, and even a musical (Dancer in the Dark [2000]).
Trier’s only comedy, Direktøren for det hele (The Boss of It All, 2006), is about a
company boss who blames a made-up higher boss for his work policies.
Trier has noted that he views art as a creative process that relieves his anxiety,
and he is well known for his many phobias, including fears of trains, planes, res-
taurants, cancer, crowds, and hospitals. These phobias are often written into his
films, and when filming scenes that involve one of his phobias, he usually directs
remotely via computer. He does relatively little traveling; this has sometimes re-
sulted in his being unable to attend the Cannes Film Festival when his films were
being honored. And although many of his films are made in English, he has been
criticized for making films about America even though he has never been there.
Trier’s films often deal with religious and ethical themes. His 1988 version of
the classic Greek drama Medea, by Euripides, with a screenplay by Carl Theodor
Dreyer, examines a woman who, spurned by her lover, takes revenge by killing
their children. Similarly, Trier’s more recent film Antichrist (2009) is about a mar-
ried couple who launch into a cycle of violence and madness upon the death of
their son.
Trier had believed that his father was Jewish, and as a youth—though not par-
ticularly religious—he was proud of his Jewish heritage. As an adult, he was dev-
astated when his mother confessed to him on her deathbed that his birth father was
someone other than he had thought and that he was not Jewish. This precipitated
a religious crisis for Trier and he abandoned anything having to do with Judaism;
at the age of 33, he converted to Catholicism. He admits that he finds evil to be
interesting but that he is also drawn to idealism. Several other themes regularly
surface in his films: authenticity, humanity, love, death, moral choice, faith, power,
and suffering. His films are not essentially political but he does deal with political
issues such as otherness, ostracism, community, and immigration. Breaking the
Waves (1996) is explicitly religious, but religious language and symbolism abound
in many of his other films as well. In general, Danish filmmakers have a more
relaxed attitude toward sex and nudity, and such representations in his films have
caused some of the controversy that he has experienced outside of Denmark.
Trier has produced a significant body of work in three trilogies, each with
a unique theme. The first (“Europe”), on which he collaborated with Nils Vør-
sel, deals with a Europe in disintegration. Trier’s first feature film, Forbrydelsens
436 | Trier, Lars von

element (The Element of Crime, 1984), is about a detective attempting to solve a

murder mystery. The second film of the trilogy, Epidemic (1987), has two story
lines: one is a somewhat autobiographical account of how Trier and Vørsel wrote
the screenplay for the previous film and the other is a story about a doctor explor-
ing an epidemic that is plaguing Europe but of which the doctor is the unwitting
carrier. Europa (1991) takes place in 1945, with most of the film being set on a
train on which an innocent American unwittingly becomes involved in a terrorist
plot in a post-Nazi world.
The second trilogy (“Gold/Golden Heart”) is named after a book Trier read as
a child, and all three of the films in this trilogy feature an idealistic, self-sacrificing
woman. Breaking the Waves (1996), Trier’s most overtly religious film, addresses
issues of redemption, suffering, and the power of love in a story that features a
young, innocent, somewhat emotionally unstable religious woman who marries
someone who is an outsider to her conservative religious community. The Idiots is
about a group of young adults who form a community in which they act as if they
are mentally challenged. Dancer in the Dark is about a young Czechoslovakian
immigrant woman who struggles to make a life for teenage her son and save him
from the genetic eye problem he inherited from her.
The third planned trilogy (“USA: Land of Opportunities”) consists of only
two films so far. Dogville (2003) is more akin to a play, in which drawings on the
floor are the primary stage setting for the quaint little town into which the main
character, Grace, stumbles; her early embrace by the community is later gradually
turned into cruelty until she gets her final revenge. Manderlay (2005) is about
the same character, Grace, who discovers on her travels a slave community in the
modern world in which the slaves do not yet realize that they have been freed;
Grace takes up residence with them to assist them their new-found freedom. The
third film, in development as of 2010, is tentatively titled Washington.
In interviews, Trier comes across as both soft-spoken and outspoken, espe-
cially in discussing the nature of contemporary film. He admits that in his earlier
years, he did not work well with actors, whom he viewed primarily as props for
his story. He eventually developed greater respect for them and treated them bet-
ter; even more recently, however, his contentious relationships with some of his
stars—such as Björk in Dancer in the Dark, Nicole Kidman in Dogville, and the
cast of The Idiots—has provided much grist for the rumor mill. He is also enig-
matic and a provocateur. He is often quoted as saying that a film should be like a
pebble in one’s shoe—that films are not necessarily meant to entertain but to pro-
voke a response from the audience. He has long been a critic of conventional, safe,
money-making approaches to filmmaking, particularly in Denmark. In film school
and as a filmmaker, he was always challenging convention, and no one could ever
accuse him of being a conventional filmmaker himself. His graduation film from
 Truffaut, François | 437

the Danish Film Institute—Befrielsesbilleder (Images of Relief, 1983)—presented

an idealized picture of a Nazi German soldier after the war. Nonetheless, all of
Trier’s films are unique creations—often profound, always interesting, usually
prone to much commentary and analysis—and they often provoke a response that
compels the audience to deal, positively or negatively, with the themes and images
he presents—just as he intends.
Donna Yarri
See also: Dogme 95; Dreyer, Carl Theodor; Europe (Continental); Greek and
Roman Myths; Women.

Further Reading
Bainbridge, Caroline. The Cinema of Lars Von Trier: Authenticity and Artifice. New York:
Wallflower Press, 2007.
Faber, Alyda. “Redeeming Sexual Violence? A Feminist Reading of Breaking the Waves.”
Literature and Theology 17, no. 1 (2003): 59–75.
Heath, Stephen. “God, Faith, and Film: Breaking the Waves.” Literature and Theology 12,
no. 1 (1998): 93–107.
Lumboldt, Jan, ed. Lars Von Trier Interviews. Jackson: University Press of Mississippi,
2003.
Stevenson, Jack. Lars Von Trier. London: British Film Institute, 2002.

Truffaut, François (1932–1984)

François Truffaut survived childhood poverty and neglect to become one of the
most highly regarded film directors of the 20th century. The stylistic innovations
of his first films helped inspire the French New Wave in the early 1960s, but his
legacy is a body of work that explores the difficulty of finding love in a world that
seems loveless. That he created these stories of longing with such a strong human-
ity had as much to do with his own difficult childhood as it did his deep love for
movies themselves.
Truffaut was born to an unwed Roman Catholic mother in Paris on Febru-
ary 6, 1932. Seen as the product of sin, Truffaut was shuffled among his parents
and both sets of grandparents for his entire childhood. Small, sensitive, and rest-
less, he usually found himself on the outside of popular social circles, escaping
from his lonely life through books and the local movie theater. When he was not
reading Victor Hugo or Honoré de Balzac, he was sneaking into the neighborhood
movie house, where he would sometimes stay for an entire day, watching the same
438 | Truffaut, François

film over and over until he could quote entire soundtracks. Movies were his solace,
and they became the object of his childhood passions.
The sheer volume of movies he watched during his early years helped Truf-
faut develop a keen understanding of story structure and general cinematic tech-
niques. Haunting the fringes of the Parisian film society scene, he picked up the
language of movie criticism. At age 14, he started his own film club, where he
and his friends would debate movies and reach out by letter to the films’ creators.
Some filmmakers would actually make special appearances, and by his late teens,
Truffaut had developed relationships with many of the filmmakers and critics who
were shaping the very nature of modern film criticism.
Truffaut formed a special bond with André Bazin, an internationally known
film theorist, who was the first to sense the boy’s intellectual and creative gifts.
Absent parental accountability, it was Bazin who rescued Truffaut from a juve-
nile correction center after he was caught stealing posters from the movie theater.
And when Truffaut, 18 years of age and newly enlisted in the army, wound up in
military prison for going AWOL to watch movies while on leave in Paris, Bazin
pulled strings to get him out. Bazin simply could not give up on the promising
young man and offered him a job at his magazine Cahiers du Cinema, the seminal
film criticism magazine of the time. There, Truffaut found a group of like-minded
friends who had made a church of the movie theater and gods out of filmmakers
like Orson Welles and Jean Renoir.
Bazin nurtured Truffaut’s writing, and soon Truffaut found his first calling
as a poison-pen crusader for the conservative right. Across nearly a decade of
film reviews, articles, and interviews for Cahiers and other publications, Truffaut
waged a relentless attack on what he felt were the sins of the French film industry
of the time: its bent toward religious blasphemy, cynical characters, and violence.
Truffaut’s pure, childlike love of movies seemed contrary to the antagonistic voice
he developed as a critic, but the combination helped him to rise quickly at the
magazine. Yet Truffaut, an atheist, was not stumping for God with these conserva-
tive attacks. He was denouncing aspects of the current cinema as provocative for
their own sake—as obvious appeals to the basest nature of the audience—to the
detriment of pure storytelling. In its place, he aggressively promoted a new kind
of cinema that would feature real-world characters and moral themes. He wrote
often and highly of those filmmakers—such as Robert Bresson, Luis Buñuel, and
certain American filmmakers like Alfred Hitchcock and Howard Hawks—all of
whom he felt were using cinema as a tool for self-expression and not simply as a
means to make money.
The belief in film as a mode of artistic expression was common to most of
the Cahiers critics, and was informed by Bazin’s widely known proclamations
that described a true film as one that is the result of one man’s vision, expressed
 Truffaut, François | 439

via total control over every aspect of the filmmaking process. Truffaut defined an
auteur as a director who portrayed a positive image of human potential despite its
location in a corrupt society. He noted that transcendence of the isolation of the
human experience was possible by reaching out to other humans or to God. For
Truffaut there was no God, but there was an inner satisfaction, a sort of spiritual
contentment that could only come from the movie screen. He literally devoted his
life to this worship of the cinema.
In 1959, Truffaut the film critic had a chance to prove himself and his convic-
tions. With Bazin’s financial connections, Truffaut made his first feature film, Les
quatre cents coups (The 400 Blows, 1959). Drawing on his own childhood, it is the
story of a rebellious boy’s slow disenfranchisement from a home and school that
refuse to show him love. Equal parts subtle, charming, stark, and unsentimental,
the film was an international sensation. Truffaut shocked his critical enemies by
making a movie with warmth and humanity. Along with the equally successful
Á bout de soufflé (Breathless, 1960; made by fellow Cahiers critic Jean-Luc Go-
dard), The 400 Blows energized a generation of French filmmakers whose lack of
studio financing and complete creative freedom became badges of honor. Their
films, characterized by low budgets, location shooting, jumbled genres, and epi-
sodic narratives, constituted an unofficial film movement later called the French
New Wave.
With his first film, Truffaut had won a place in film history, alongside his
heroes, as the consummate creator of an original and influential masterpiece, but
he had also won a personal victory for his belief in a moral cinema. Yet it is ap-
parent by his eventual body of work that Truffaut’s definition of a “moral” cinema
had less to do with religious practice or conviction than it did with being true to
the reality that exists within the context of a film’s created universe. Instead of
presenting characters that debate the existence or relevance of God, he presented
portraits of marginalized characters in search of love in a loveless world, the de-
fault existential milieu of many 20th-century artists.
The 400 Blows remains the purest example of Truffaut’s attitude toward the
elusive nature of love. Antoine Doinel, the young teenager who is a stand-in for
Truffaut’s own pseudobiography, is an innocent caught in the wake of his parents’
infidelities. He begins to act out at school, to lie to his teachers, to steal, and to skip
classes in favor of adventure. He is sent to a juvenile home, where he and the other
boys are treated like criminals, finally escaping into the streets only to come to a
dead end at the edge of the sea. Throughout the film, Truffaut never openly judges
anyone’s actions, presenting them with a documentary-like realism—surely the
influence of his role models Balzac, Jean Renoir, and Bazin. The resulting am-
biguity has a nearly hypnotic quality; as we are drawn into this world, what is
revealed to the viewer is not Truffaut’s feelings necessarily but the viewer’s own
440 | Truffaut, François

feelings about the actions of the characters. The audience is left to assume that,
according to the perfectly sealed world created in the movie (Truffaut’s “moral”
imperative), there is little chance of ever finding true peace as long as there is also
injustice and cruelty. The final freeze frame of Doinel’s blank expression as he
looks directly into the camera is a stylistic embellishment that famously captures
the existential confusion of any person who craves to belong.
The remainder of Truffaut’s body of work treats this same theme in many
ways. In fact, the entire “Antoine Doinel series”—five films featuring the same
character played by the same actor across two decades—can be considered a single
riff on the problem of loneliness. Its constituent parts—all except the first being
light comedies—were created between 1959 and 1979. Truffaut follows Doinel
from childhood through his young adult years—trying to find romance, through
marriage, infidelity, and finally divorce and reconciliation. We can see Truffaut’s
evolving mastery of film language along with his maturing understanding of the
reasons why love, especially romantic love, can be so destructive.
Throughout the 1960s, Truffaut made a number of movies that paid unbridled
homage to the joy of making and watching movies, teeming with an energy born
of personal creative discovery and full of examples of creative film editing (Jules
and Jim [1962]), imaginative, time-shuffling recreations of pulp stories (Tirez sur
le pianiste [Shoot the Piano Player, 1960]), blatant morality tales on the conse-
quences of infidelity (La Peau douce [The Soft Skin, 1964]), and globe-trotting
adventure that disguises a doomed, misguided love story (La Sirene du Missisipi
[Mississippi Mermaid, 1969]). In none of Truffaut’s movies of the 1960s does any
story end with love triumphing. Truffaut’s worldview seems to have been pessi-
mistic, even as his movies were imminently watchable and almost life-affirmingly
entertaining. Truffaut was more of a fan of the interpretation of life than he was
of life itself, suggesting that film should be fascinating because real life was so
boring.
In the 1970s, Truffaut’s movies became more varied in tone, even as they re-
mained true to his theme of hardship in love. L’Enfant Sauvage (The Wild Child,
1970) tells the true story of a 19th-century doctor who attempts against all odds
to educate a feral boy found in the forest—a moving metaphor for unconditional
love. La Nuit Américaine (Day For Night, 1973) is Truffaut’s Oscar-winning
pseudodocumentary about the making of a movie—perhaps his greatest homage
to the art of filmmaking, and in fact for Truffaut himself, an open window to the
most tumultuous ongoing love affair of his life. L’Argent de poche (Small Change,
1976), a gentle comedy, focuses entirely on the lives of a group of school children
in a small French town and illuminates Truffaut’s belief that childhood is not truly
innocent but is instead the breeding ground for all the negative emotions found in
the rest of life. Truffaut rounded out the decade with several period pieces and a
 Truffaut, François | 441

handful of movies, more adult in tone, that deal with the tragic consequences of
obsessive love.
Truffaut’s last film, Vivement dimanche (Confidentially Yours, 1983) is an al-
most exact replication of 1940s film noir, shot in black and white and featuring a
score that evokes the swelling, suspenseful, violin-backed orchestrations of those
early films. The film was widely dismissed not just for its lack of intellectual depth
but also because it was a verbatim recreation of the studio style by a man who had
spent so much energy denouncing such movies in his own criticism. Indeed, it is
the irony of Truffaut’s life that he had now become the object of critical analysis.
The New York Times film critic Vincent Canby, a great admirer of Truffaut’s, said
at the time that Confidentially Yours was so flat that he felt he had missed the point
of the film. The point he seemed to have missed was that Truffaut, at his very core,
is a lover of film, and with this movie he was paying tribute to a period of film his-
tory that had helped him survive the ordeal of his youth. He had effectively come
full circle: from a child rescued by movies, to an outspoken critic, to a brilliant in-
novator, and back to simply being a lover of movies again. But no one could have
known that it was to be his last film. Truffaut died of a brain tumor at the age of
52 on October 21, 1984.
Throughout his 25-year career as a director, Truffaut made 22 feature-length
films and a number of shorts. His work spanned several genres, from comedy to
romance to period films, but they all have at their heart the theme of love—the
difficulty of finding it, maintaining it, and dealing with its loss. But no matter the
genre trappings of his films, each resounds with the creative energy of a man who
loved movies and loved telling stories on the screen.
Robert Hornak
See also: Bazin, André; Bresson, Robert; Buñuel, Luis; Dogme 95; Europe
(Continental); Film as Religion.

Further Reading
Baecque, Antoine de, and Serge Toubiana. Truffaut: A Biography. New York: Knopf,
1999.
Berre, Carole Le. François Truffaut at Work. London: Phaidon Press, 2005.
Rabourdin, Dominique, ed. Truffaut by Truffaut. Translated by Robert Erich Wolf. New
York: Harry N. Abrams, 1987.
Truffaut, François. The Films in My Life. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1978.
V

Vampires

In their classic form, vampires are immortal, nonhuman beings who sustain them-
selves by drinking human blood. Sometimes referred to as nosferatu or wurdalak,
vampires are most often portrayed as “undead” individuals who have come back to
life after death. These undead are occasionally mindless, zombielike figures who
feel an instinctive desire to feed upon those they loved in life. More evolved vam-
pires retain much of the personality that they had when they were alive, but they
have lost their connection to humanity because of their insatiable thirst for blood.
These “master” vampires keep their existence secret by living apart from human-
kind, either in abandoned locations or as members of an underground society. At
times, they masquerade as humans in order to blend in with the civilized world,
although some are better at disguising their out-of-date manners and clothing than
others. As nocturnal hunters, most vampires are reluctant to attack more than one
human at a time and seek prey that is vulnerable and alone. More often than not,
they kill those they attack. However, on certain occasions they are so fascinated
by their prey that they decide to initiate the victim into the cult of vampirism by
forcing him or her to drink vampire blood. Interestingly enough, vampires become
vulnerable when they fall in love with their prey, and the attachment often leads
to their destruction.
A popular subject of low-budget and independent films, vampires have in-
spired lyric, erotic, and violent movies. These films vary wildly in quality, from
the inspired to the unwatchable, and it is nearly impossible to predict their artistic
merit based on their lurid titles and poster art. Film connoisseurs generally con-
sider the vampire to be emblematic of escapist entertainment at its most extreme,
since the creatures’ highly supernatural nature taxes to the limit viewer’s ability
to suspend disbelief. However, vampire films often force viewers to confront their
darkest impulses, as well as some of the greatest evils of society. In these cases,
the films may be the opposite of escapist—a foray into social and psychological

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territories many would rather leave unexplored. Vampires are symbols of sin, sex,
and death and the territory in which all three meet. As such, their social and reli-
gious significance is vast and often underestimated.
There are many different species of vampires and of vampire films, but they
tend to cluster around five popular types. The “sensual” film ranges from the
romantic (Dracula [1979]) to the pornographic (Vampyres [1974]), while the
“poetic”—almost art house—meditations focus on death, rape, homosexuality,
sexually transmitted disease, addiction, and even ethnic cleansing; they include
such films as F. W. Murnau’s silent film Nosferatu, eine Symphonie des Grauens
(Nosferatu the Vampire, 1922) and Werner Herzog’s remake Nosferatu: Phantom
der Nacht (Nosferatu the Vampyre, 1979), Lemora: A Child’s Tale of the Super-
natural (1973), Cronos (Chronos, 1993), Nadja (1994), The Addiction (1995), and
Joe Ahearne’s Ultraviolet (1998). There are a number of “campy romps” or spoofs
of the genre’s overfamiliar conventions, including Abbott and Costello Meet Fran-
kenstein (1948), Love at First Bite (1979), and Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1992);
there are also a number of “melodramas” modeled after medieval morality plays
and the British gothic tradition, including the films of Peter Cushing and Christo-
pher Lee, ‘Salem’s Lot (2004) and the “classic” Universal Studio monster films.
Last, the “adventure” film is characterized by frequent use of special effects and
liberal doses of martial arts choreography, as in Underworld (2003), Van Helsing
(2004), and Kurt Wimmer’s Ultraviolet (2006).
A recent addition to the vampire genre is the vampire “war film,” an extension
of the vampire adventure film that has the urgency and brutality of war movies. It
often involves a small town or a fortified building that is under siege by an enemy
force of far superior strength and numbers. In such films, the human defenders are
clearly the heroes and the attacking vampire army the villains, making vampire war
movies morally unambiguous. Although this formula is more common in zombie
films, westerns, and science fiction blockbusters inspired by Aliens (1986), it is
featured in such notable vampire films as From Dusk Till Dawn (1996), 30 Days of
Night (2007), and I Am Legend (2007), the last of which features vampire-zombie
hybrids. The most recent additions to this genre are, unsurprisingly, replete with
9/11 and “war on terror” imagery.
The vampire movies that are most likely to treat issues of theology and re-
ligion seriously are the gothic melodramas and the art house pictures, while the
films in the other categories focus more on entertaining and titillating the audience.
Significantly, the gothic melodramas—such as those produced by Great Britain’s
Hammer Films studio—are the ones that consistently evoke the bizarre Roman
Catholic sensibilities of the classic vampire novel by Bram Stoker (Dracula, 1897)
and its numerous adaptations.
All vampire movies, to some degree or another, exist in the shadow of Stoker’s
novel. The Victorian-era classic portrayed vampires as demonic beings that shrink
 Vampires | 445

Bela Lugosi as Count Dracula, 1931. AP Photo.

in the presence of Roman Catholic objects of faith, especially crucifixes, rosary

beads, holy water, and the Eucharist. When the novel was adapted into a stage
play and then into film in Dracula (1931), much of the Catholic iconography was
retained and brought to the screen. Vampires have been tied inextricably to the
Catholic Church ever since.
Some of the most interesting vampire films, from both an artistic and theo-
logical perspective, are those that explore the connection between vampirism and
Catholicism, often by positing theories for the origins of vampirism and by consid-
ering the possibility that a penitent vampire might be “cured” or redeemed. Since
Stoker’s novel does not explain clearly or definitively how the nobleman became
a vampire and does not explain where the first vampire came from, the makers of
films derived from the book have felt free to invent their own origins for the curse,
many of which are intriguing and deliberately vague. For example, in The Brides
of Dracula (1960), Dracula’s archenemy Professor Van Helsing explains that vam-
pirism is a “strange sickness” that is “partly physical, partly spiritual” and is “most
prevalent in Transylvania and the lower Danube.” It will inevitably spread like a
contagion “unless it is stamped out.” He later cryptically observes that “the Cult
of Vampirism” is “a survival of one of the ancient pagan religions in their struggle
against Christianity.”
446 | Vampires

Alternatively, The Forsaken (2001) traces the origins of vampirism to the siege
of Antioch during the Crusades, in which 200 French knights were wiped out by
the Turkish army. Following the battle, as nine surviving knights found themselves
freezing to death in a blizzard, the demon Banta appears to them, offering them
immortality in exchange for their souls. Eight accept and are instructed to “kill
and drink the blood of the knight who refused. When the sun rose, they were so
ashamed of what they did, they hid in caves until night fell again.” From then on,
the undead knights are cursed to drink blood, avoid the sun, and win legions of
new souls for Banta by spreading vampirism across the globe.
The Turks are offered a place of prominence in yet another account of the birth
of vampirism. Francis Ford Coppola’s Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1992) features a
prologue suggesting that Dracula is Vlad the Impaler come back from the grave.
The segment takes place in 1462 and shows a still human Vlad Dracul returning
home from a military campaign against the Turks. Upon his arrival, he is shocked
to discover that his true love has committed suicide because she falsely believed
that he had perished in combat. A priest informs him unsympathetically that all
suicides are damned according to “God’s law.” Vlad raves, “Is this my reward
for defending God’s Church? I renounce God! I shall rise from my own death to
avenge hers with all the powers of darkness.” He then performs a dark inversion
of communion, drinking blood from a chalice and proclaiming, “The blood is the
life, and it shall be mine.” Thus, Dracula was born.
Rather than suggesting that Dracula was Vlad the Impaler in life, the film
Dracula 2000 (2000) posits that Dracula is Judas Iscariot come back from the
dead after hanging himself. Throughout the film, heroine Mary Van Helsing won-
ders why Dracula hates silver and the crucifix, why he speaks Aramaic, and why
he calls the Bible propaganda. When the heroine discovers his identity, Dracula
confesses the source of his rage: “You cannot imagine what I’ve had to endure.
I have borne the very wrath of God. Chosen to suffer like no man before.” Dracula/
Judas is particularly angry at his own contradictory role in Jesus’ fate—he was the
key to the narrative’s fulfillment, yet he is condemned as a traitor. Addressing the
image of Jesus painted on a giant crucifix, Dracula storms, “You knew this would
come to pass. It was my destiny to betray you because you needed me. Now I drink
the blood of your children, but I give them more than just eternal life. I give them
what they crave most. All the pleasure you would deny them . . . forever. You made
the world in your image, but now I make it in mine.” At the end of both Dracula
2000 and Coppola’s Dracula, a heroic woman slays Dracula and prays for his
immortal soul, offering the possibility that the love of a sympathetic woman can
inspire God to forgive even the prince of darkness himself.
Vampires frequently hope for redemption or a cure for their condition but are
rarely granted any form of peace beyond being decapitated or pierced through the
 Vampires | 447

heart with a wooden stake. Barnabas Collins, the reluctant vampire of television’s
Dark Shadows (ABC, 1966–1971), was granted several “remissions” from his
curse; he had better luck than Dracula’s Daughter (1936) Countess Zeleska, who
begged God, psychiatry, and science for redemption but ended up being killed
with a bow and arrow, while The Kiss of the Vampire (1963) touches upon the pos-
sibility of a vampire redeeming himself (or herself ).
The Subspecies series (Subspecies [1991]; Subspecies II: Bloodstone [1993];
Subspecies III: Bloodlust [1994]; Subspecies IV: Bloodstorm [1998]) introduces
the idea of a Roman Catholic artifact that neither destroys nor cures a vampire
but satiates its desire for human blood, thereby allowing it to live in peace with
the human world. This artifact, dubbed the Bloodstone, is a hollow crystal that
magically fills with “the blood of all the saints” every time it is held by a vampire.
According to the film, the pope had been the guardian of the Bloodstone until
the 15th century, when a Romanian gypsy stole it and presented it to the king
of the vampires as a peace offering in exchange for his people’s safety. Since then,
the vampires have lived off of the Bloodstone and have never attacked another
human. When the first film begins, the vampire king dies, and over the course
of three sequels his rightful heirs battle for possession of the Bloodstone. The
heroine, a “good” vampire, wishes to live in peace with humans, and the “evil”
vampire wishes to use the Bloodstone to strengthen his magical power even as he
breaks the treaty with humanity.
These films are among the most notable to embrace the connection between
vampirism and Catholicism, and their filmmakers appear to have enjoyed explor-
ing the notion that vampires exist in a universe in which Jesus Christ is undoubt-
edly God and Roman Catholicism is the true faith. Other storytellers have played
with the notion in even more exploitative ways and have painted the clergy as
more evil than vampires or have portrayed Jesus as, conversely, either a vampire or
vampire hunter. Still other filmmakers have expressed interest in vampires but not
in Catholicism and have refuted or ignored the Catholic connection. Both of the
comedies The Fearless Vampire Killers (1967) and Love at First Bite star Jewish
vampires, leading the one in the former to exclaim when threatened with a cruci-
fix: “Oy! Have you got the wrong vampire!”
One of the most creative, multicultural solutions to the “Catholic” issue is
presented in The Legend of the 7 Golden Vampires (1974), which takes place in
Chung King in 1904. The film is presented as a sequel to the Dracula story and
features Van Helsing as a heroic man of action who travels the world fighting
vampires. In one key scene, Van Helsing explains to his Chinese compatriots that
vampires “abhor anything that has a holy significance. They fear the word of the
Lord. In Europe, the vampire walks in dread of the crucifix. Here, it would be the
image of the Lord Buddha.” It is not clear whether the vampires fear the Buddha
448 | Vampires

because the Buddha is as “real” as the Christian messiah or because the vampire
hunter is protected by a fundamental faith or goodness that is in the heart of every
religious person, no matter what his religious affiliation. Both ‘Salem’s Lot and
Fright Night (1985) suggest, for example, that a cross will not keep a vampire at
bay unless the human using it has genuine faith (but they only hint at what “genu-
ine faith” might be).
Other filmmakers have stripped their films of Catholic elements by suggesting
that vampires are not supernatural but aliens (Lifeforce [1985]), or the product of
viral infection (The Last Man on Earth [1964], based on Richard Matheson’s 1954
novella I am Legend), or have suggested that vampires are supernatural but do
not fear the crucifix (Interview with a Vampire [1994]). Two of the most creative
departures from the traditional view of the vampire include The Lair of the White
Worm (1988)—which features a serpentine vampire who fears the mongoose and
who can be captivated by a snake-charmer—and the swashbuckling adventure yarn
Captain Kronos—Vampire Hunter (1974), which presents creatures who walk by
day and drain their victims of youth rather than blood. Catholicism is downplayed
in Dark Shadows, in which Barnabas Collins is transformed into a vampire by
Angelique Bouchard’s voodoo curse, and throughout the series he seeks a cure
through scientific rather than theological means.
Most recently, filmmakers have traveled even farther from the Catholic con-
nection, and used vampire narratives not only as a forum to explore sexuality
generally but also as a backdrop in which to discuss first love, teenage sexual-
ity, sexual activity, virginity, and abstinence. The Norwegian film Låt den rätte
komma in (Let the Right One In, 2008) emphasizes the danger, violence, and ultra-
sexuality in the first love of its preteen protagonists, a 12-year-old human and a
seemingly young female vampire. The movie presents each murder by the child/
serial-killer vampire as brutal and tragic, and instead of making the emotions of
the lovers seem “safe,” it explores the darkest of the young boy’s emotions, in-
cluding rage, lust, and despair, and the consequences of acting on these feelings.
Similarly, the widespread popularity of Twilight (2008), based on the first of a se-
ries of young adult vampire books by Mormon author Stephanie Meyer, has been
attributed to the way in which it makes taboo subjects such as teen sexuality more
approachable, largely because of its thinly veiled message of abstinence. Focus-
ing on a young girl who falls in love with a vampire (who has taken an oath not
to kill humans), their forbidden love is challenged by outside figures—including
members of the each character’s extended “family” who do not trust the other—in
an extended metaphor of the age-old formula of teen rebellion.
These vampires are all clearly vampires, but the variations in their portrayals
and their appearance and abilities mean that they are different species of vampires.
In fact, to some degree, there are as many species of vampires as there are species of
 Vampires | 449

vampire film. (The role-playing game Vampire: The Masquerade capitalizes on these
differences by cataloguing and codifying the different species of vampire, serving
as inspiration for Kindred: The Embraced [1996].) As a general rule of thumb, the
more supernatural the vampire is portrayed as being, the more likely the film will
address religious issues. Conversely, the more human the vampire seems, the more
likely the film is using the creature as a vehicle to address more secular concerns.
Less supernatural variations of the concept have been known to treat vampirism as
a disease akin to AIDS, wherein the vampire is not undead so much as afflicted by a
need for constant transfusions of fresh blood. Vampirism has also served as a meta-
phor for drug addiction, rape, nymphomania, necrophilia, and mass hysteria.
Those vampire films that explore religion and Catholicism tend to focus on
the darker regions of faith and organized religion. They meditate on the possibility
that God is not as fair and forgiving as is often portrayed. They fixate on injustices
in church law and history, especially the persistent belief that all non-Catholics
are misguided or evil, inspiring the horrors of the Inquisition, the Crusades, and
the Catholic Reformation. These films are particularly concerned with church law
assigning suicides to hell and identifying sexual pleasure as sinful. In effect, the
films invite the viewer to weep for all the damned in hell, and for the vampires.
They do this even as they celebrate, seemingly paradoxically, the ultimate triumph
of the just (and of the immensely likeable Professor Van Helsing) over the forces
of darkness. In that respect, vampire films have their cake and eat it too, allowing
the viewers to live vicariously through the vampires—unchain the most secret de-
sires of the id—and safely see these sinful impulses vanquished at the end of the
film, when a stake is driven through the vampire’s heart.
Marc DiPaolo
See also: Catholicism; Coppola, Francis Ford; Horror; Science Fiction; Voodoo.

Further Reading
Holte, James Craig. Dracula in the Dark: The Dracula Film Adaptations. Westport, CT:
Greenwood, 1997.
Kreitzer, Larry J. “The Scandal of the Cross: Crucifixion Imagery and Bram Stoker’s
Dracula.” In The Monstrous and the Unspeakable: The Bible as Fantastic Literature,
edited by George Aichele and Tina Pippin, 181–219. Sheffield, UK: Sheffield Academic
Press, 1997.
Le Blanc, Michelle, and Colin Odell. Vampire Films. Harpenden: Pocket Essentials, 2008.
Silver, Alain, and James Ursini. The Vampire Film: From Nosferatu to Interview with the
Vampire. New York: Limelight Editions, 1997.
Williamson, Milly. The Lure of the Vampire: Gender, Fiction and Fandom from Bram
Stoker to Buffy the Vampire Slayer. London: Wallflower Press, 2005.
450 | Voodoo

Voodoo

Largely a creation of the American imagination, the term voodoo is often mis-
understood; practitioners have only recently adopted the name attached to a variety
of spiritual practices and beliefs. Voodoo (vodou) is a loosely affiliated, syncretis-
tic religion originating in Haiti (though aspects of it can be found throughout the
West Indies) that combines elements of African spiritualities—most prominently
from the West African kingdom of Dahomey (modern Benin)—with Roman
Catholicism. The religion began when African slaves were brought together in
Haiti, home to the largest concentration of slaves in the New World.
Inspired by fear, stories of Haitian savagery, magic, child sacrifice, and can-
nibalism spread throughout the United States. Depictions of Haiti as a Caribbean
“dark continent” heightened anxieties toward the former slave colony, eventually
facilitating an American takeover in 1915. Voodoo made its film debut in White
Zombie (1932) two years before Haiti returned to self-rule.
One cannot discuss voodoo in film without mentioning the zombie, a uniquely
Haitian creation. Scholars differentiate between the zombi astral (the captured
powers of a dead person’s disembodied soul, used for magical purposes) and the
more common soulless body raised from the dead and brought back to life by
bokors (sorcerers practicing black magic) who, in reviving the corpse, cast the soul
from the body. However uncommon, reports exist of individuals long dead and
buried wandering mindlessly through the streets. For Haitians, the fear is not of
the zombie itself, but of the possibility of being made a zombie; not of the mind-
less servant, but of once more becoming a slave.
The original American audience for White Zombie had no idea what a zombie
was; publicity had to explain as well as advertise the film. Pulp fiction had intro-
duced voodoo in the 19th century against the backdrop of Christian superiority
over ostensible savages, and William Seabrook’s study The Magic Island (1929)
introduced the zombie to mass audiences. In the shadow of other 1930s monster
movies, White Zombie quietly set the benchmark for all subsequent zombie mov-
ies through the 1960s.
In the film, Bela Lugosi plays Murder Legendre, an evil businessman and
sorcerer who uses wax voodoo dolls to create zombie workers for his mill. With
his thick Hungarian accent, Lugosi is certainly no traditional bokor, and his zom-
bie followers include few if any of African descent. No effort is made to depict
voodoo; instead, the film relies on the established pulp stereotypes of black magic,
zombies, and voodoo dolls. The heroine of the film is captured, poisoned, and
turned into a zombie to become the lustful villain’s love-slave, only to be saved by
her fiancé. Together, they force Legendre and his small band of mindless servants
over a cliff. Love wins out over lust, and honest devotion (the innocent intention to
 Voodoo | 451

marry) prevails over dark and sinister sexual deviance. Representing 1930s Holly-
wood conventions relegating those of African descent to the background, the film
draws battle lines between civility, decency, the sacrament of marriage, and the
innocent, Euro-American couple on one side and lust, sin, magic, and the foreign
voodoo on the other.
With the end of the American occupation of Haiti and growing concern over
European troubles, Hollywood turned its attention from Haitian voodoo, placing
the zombie into other contexts, including Egypt (The Ghoul [1933]), Cambodia
(Revolt of the Zombies [1936]), and Cuba (The Ghost Breakers [1940]). Other
films focused on scientific (rather than religious) means of creating zombies (The
Walking Dead [1936]; The Living Dead [1933; also known as The Scotland Yard
Mystery]; The Man They Could Not Hang [1939]). Critics have suggested that the
successful spate of monster movies of the 1930s was directly tied to the Great
Depression and that the figure of the zombie appealed to American insecurities;
just as the zombie represented Haitian fears of returning to slavery, so too did it
represent American economic fears of being subjugated by foreign entities.
Voodoo appeared in films like Drums O’ Voodoo (1934), Ouanga (1936), and
The Devil’s Daughter (1939), though by the 1940s Hollywood had lost interest.
Voodoo was kept alive in a series of low-budget B-movies; of note is the little-
known I Walked With a Zombie (1943), which depicts a young Canadian nurse
who is hired by a man in Haiti to care for his incapacitated wife. As the story
unfolds, the wife is found to have been turned into a zombie by her mother-in-
law. The wife had become the object of desire of not only her husband but his
brother as well, tearing their family apart. The brothers’ mother, who was a doc-
tor to the local native population, stepped in to save her family, and despite her
own rationalism about the native religion, employed a voodoo priest to turn her
daughter-in-law into a zombie. Of interest is the way in which ideologies are
debated throughout the film, namely those of the “superstitious” Haitians and the
rationalistic westerners. The natives believe the wife is a zombie from the outset;
the main characters look for physical explanations for her sickness. In the end, it
is revealed that the mother and medical doctor (throughout, the strongest voice of
rationalism) caused the woman’s affliction by turning to voodoo.
Aside from this curious departure, however, much of the film’s thematic oper-
ation reflects the conventions of its time. The film contains interesting and not en-
tirely unrealistic portrayals of voodoo ceremonies, but voodoo itself forms merely
the backdrop to the story. Aside from the wife of the hero, the only other zombie is
also the most frightening visual in the entire movie—a tall, lanky Afro-Caribbean
man with bulging white eyes who appears occasionally. Still, the true “villain” of
the film, though she is depicted as being forced into her role, is the mother who poi-
soned her son’s young wife. From another perspective, the wife herself is a villain,
452 | Voodoo

as it becomes apparent that her crime was the seduction of her husband’s brother,
with whom she drowns in the ocean while fleeing from the Afro-Caribbean zom-
bie at the end of the film. As in White Zombie, the conflict arises out of the lust for
a woman and the use of magic to harness and control the object of that lust. Also
as in White Zombie, the main characters, including those who turn to magic to
further their evil agendas, are all “white” according to Hollywood conventions of
the time. The Haitians themselves are relegated to supporting roles. Still, voodoo
is portrayed as the outlet for evil despite its treatment as mere superstition.
The 1950s saw an even more foreign zombie-controlling “other” as extrater-
restrials created zombie armies with which to dominate Earth (Plan 9 From Outer
Space [1959]; Invisible Invaders [1959]). In addition to these, there were also
home-grown dangers, most notably nuclear radiation, which ultimately appeared
as a means of turning once-living humans into walking corpses (Creature With
the Atom Brain [1955]). American audiences were increasingly drawn to science-
fiction fare capitalizing on scientific, nuclear fears over supernatural ones. Those
films of the 1950s that tried to keep voodoo links alive were remarkably unsuc-
cessful (Voodoo Island [1957]; Zombies of Mora Tau [1957]).
By the late 1960s, voodoo had all but faded from view in terms of zombie films.
The Plague of the Zombies (1966) imported the voodoo roots of zombies to En-
gland and practically eliminated the involvement of any Africans. The Earth Dies
Screaming (1965), on the other hand, continued the pattern of sci-fi approaches to
zombies, with alien robots animating the corpses of the humans they killed. But
George A. Romero’s Night of the Living Dead established a new genre of zombie
film and, indeed, set the standard for all subsequent zombie movies. Night of the
Living Dead (1968), inspired by Richard Matheson’s novel I Am Legend (1954),
transformed the zombie in two fundamental ways. In Romero’s film the zombies
have no master and no known cause for their creation. “Experts” in the film specu-
late on the possibility of radioactivity or a returning satellite as potential origins
the zombies, but Romero explains nothing, leaving the zombies as the only vil-
lains. Further raising their status as the embodiment of evil, the zombies in Night
of the Living Dead feast on living flesh although they have no physical need for
food. Later zombie films, including Romero’s sequels (Dawn of the Dead [1978;
2004]; Day of the Dead [1985]; Land of the Dead [2005]), adhere to the rules laid
out in Night of the Living Dead: zombies rise from the grave with no other motiva-
tion than to devour the living, they cannot think or speak except in a very primitive
manner, they generally have no known cause for awakening, and the only way to
stop them is by destroying their brains.
For the new era of zombie films, the villains are no longer some unknown
other but instead are neighbors, friends, and family members—they are us. This
move from fearing the other to fearing the enemy within has been common across
 Voodoo | 453

horror narratives of the last few decades, but in the zombie genre the effect has
been to eliminate explicit associations with religion and replace them with a sense
of impending chaos and apocalypse. Zombie movies have evolved to the point
where masses of uncontrolled, unthinking dead rise up from their graves with the
sole purpose of killing the living. They expand their number until every living per-
son has been eliminated. Images of the dead rising from their graves call to mind
the Christian Resurrection, however pervertedly the apocalyptic zombie genre de-
picts it. The tagline from Romero’s Dawn of the Dead—“When there’s no more
room in Hell, the dead will walk the Earth”—has become a general catch phrase
for the zombie film. Lucio Fulci’s Zombi 2 (Zombie [1979]) returns zombies to
the Caribbean, but subsequent films have generally ignored voodoo associations.
Instead, most modern zombie films focus on a more Christian-influenced idea
of the end of time having come, with God’s punishment being meted out in the
form of shambling mockeries of the living. Characters very often turn to prayer or
religious symbols for aid and find them useless. One scholar points out that what
the zombie apocalypse depicts is the total failure of any effort by humanity to save
itself; what remains is faith in the saving grace of the divine after death. In the
films, however, the prospect of death is made more horrible by the possibility of
rising up as a zombie—something that many characters attempt to avoid by shoot-
ing themselves in the head.
Despite the changing nature of zombie films, representations of voodoo have
changed little. The James Bond film Live and Let Die (1973) includes voodoo as
a major part of its plot. Magic is the central feature of voodoo depicted, with the
villain Dr. Kananga using voodoo to maintain control over the poppy fields of the
small, fictional Caribbean island he rules. His girlfriend is a European woman with
the ability to see the future by reading tarot cards. Predictably, she ends up falling
in love with the secret agent. One of the more sinister characters is Baron Samedi,
an African man named after the voodoo master of the dead. This last villain is
apparently killed by Bond, only to reappear at the end of the film mysteriously
laughing as the credits begin to roll. The racial dynamics depicted here cannot
be more obvious, with Bond, the ever-faithful servant of the British Empire, bat-
tling the forces of evil in the form of a Caribbean despot (played, interestingly, by
Yaphet Kotto, who is himself the son of one of the crown princes of Cameroon)
and his league of magical cronies. As in the earlier films, voodoo is associated
mainly with evil, magic, and sexuality.
The 1970s’ “blaxploitation” films also turned to horror, often incorporating
voodoo as authentically African American. In the classic blaxploitation horror
Blacula (1972), the vampiric antihero becomes enslaved by his thirst for blood
after having been bitten by the European Dracula centuries earlier. In the sequel,
Scream, Blacula, Scream (1973), Blacula turns to voodoo rituals in a failed attempt
454 | Voodoo

to cure himself of his affliction. More explicitly related to voodoo is Sugar Hill
(The Zombies of Sugar Hill / Voodoo Girl [1994]). In this film the heroine, Sugar
Hill, raises an army of zombies to avenge the murder of her lover at the hands of
European American mobsters. Both films valorize the monster: Blacula is a vic-
tim of European vampirism, forced to kill against his own will; Sugar’s zombies,
who are clearly identified as long dead former slaves, rise up from their graves
not only to avenge the murder of one man but to force the mobsters to become
scapegoats in retribution for years of oppression. The blaxploitation films, on
one hand, take the typical fear of the other as embodied by voodoo/Africans in
general and force audiences, both African and European American, to sympa-
thize with this other. On the other hand, as horror, the films still rely on Holly-
wood tropes to create fear; for instance, when the zombies of Sugar Hill kill their
targets, the director uses a first-person camera perspective of the victim, which
forces the audience to identify with the European American mobster and thus to
fear the zombie slaves. The aim of eliminating the fear of the African other is thus
diluted for the sake of horror.
Wes Craven’s The Serpent and the Rainbow (1988) depicts the zombie phe-
nomenon firmly within the context of voodoo, and thus resists Romero’s flesh-
eating zombie. The film is based on the work of anthropologist Wade Davis, who
discovered the drug tetrodotoxin, used in the creation of zombies. Davis found
that when used in the right doses, tetrodotoxin could induce a comatose state that
might imitate death. Hallucinogenic drugs could then be administered which, in
combination with cultural beliefs in zombification, would make the transforma-
tion complete. Those who did not die from the poison would most often become
brain-damaged and catatonic. The central character of the film takes the role of
Davis and enters Haiti to get to the bottom of the zombie mystery. Instead, he
becomes embroiled in conflict with the authorities; the chief of police is a bokor.
The film focuses on the more sensational aspects of voodoo, displaying scenes of
highly sexualized possession, bloody faith healing, and, unsurprisingly, plenty of
scary black magic. Davis has been criticized for allowing his book to be turned
into a sensationalist and biased portrayal of voodoo. However, the film carries a
political message, since it takes place during the reign of Jean-Claude “Baby Doc”
Duvalier, who is said to have used voodoo magic to suppress and control Haiti.
The villain of The Serpent and the Rainbow is clearly a stand-in for Duvalier, and
the film ends not only with the defeat of this main villain but also with the collapse
of Duvalier’s regime.
More recently, Hollywood films such as The Skeleton Key (2005) have made
a distinction between voodoo as a reputable spiritual belief system and hoodoo,
which might be described as the superstitious use of black magic. A term that
has been in use since the 19th century, hoodoo has referred equally to voodoo
 Voodoo | 455

and the magic associated with it, primarily in a negative context such as one’s
being hexed. The distinction between hoodoo and voodoo is not so clear-cut.
Many of the rituals of voodoo still incorporate what some would call magic.
Communicating with the spirits and allowing them to possess one’s body are
central to voodoo practice. Propitiating the spirits for their aid is common, and
a variety of objects can be used in this propitiation, including the misunderstood
voodoo doll.
The Skeleton Key differentiates what it calls voodoo spirituality from hoo-
doo magic and then drops voodoo from its discourse. It focuses on hoodoo
magic, specifically that of a African American couple who have discovered the
secret of immortality and require a human sacrifice to complete their spells.
The magic works in such a way that the spirits of the couple are capable of pos-
sessing others in order to remain alive, and throughout the film they possess the
bodies of several European American people. The only depictions of the African
American couple come in the form of brief flashbacks. Other African American
characters throughout the film are depicted as believing in and fearing the magic
of hoodoo, while the European American characters turn to reason and disbe-
lief. Only at the end does the heroine of the film, herself European American,
come to accept and believe in the power of hoodoo, at which point she becomes
the necessary human sacrifice. The film makes the point that the magic would
not have worked unless she had believed that it would; thus it suggests that be-
lief in the power of hoodoo is actually the weakness that brings about the main
character’s demise.
Despite its lip service to the spirituality of voodoo, then, the film actually carries
on a long tradition of representing voodoo. The focus of the film is on the magical
side of voodoo for its horror potential. African American characters, the source of
this magic, are the ultimate villains, although they are relegated to the background.
Only by possessing European American people can the African American charac-
ters accomplish their goals. The dichotomy of western (European) rationalism and
Haitian (African) superstition is made explicit, with the eventual downfall coming
only when the rational heroine falls into superstitious belief. Of course, the film
grants that the magic is no mere superstition, as it succeeds in having the desired
effect once it is believed.
Voodoo has been negatively portrayed through almost a century of Hollywood
cinema. In Haitian filmmaker Raoul Peck’s words, “Hollywood invented voodoo”;
he avoids using images of voodoo in his films about Haiti, considering the topic
too complicated to be portrayed in film. Voodoo has been made to symbolize all
that strikes fear into America; where America is good, Christian, rational, sci-
entific, and white, voodoo is evil, devil-worshipping, superstitious, magical, and
black. That voodoo has become symbolically charged in this way is testament to
456 | Voodoo

the enduring power of religious and political propaganda, voodoo having been
given its image over a hundred years ago by those who feared the power of a
republic of freed slaves.
Christopher M. Moreman
See also: Africa; Catholicism; Horror; Latin America.

Further Reading
Krzywinska, Tanya. A Skin for Dancing In: Possession, Witchcraft, and Voodoo in Film.
Trowbridge, UK: Flicks Books, 2000.
Paffenroth, Kim. Gospel of the Living Dead: George Romero’s Vision of Hell on Earth.
Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2006.
Rhodes, Gary D. White Zombie: Anatomy of a Horror Film. Jefferson, NC: McFarland,
2001.
Russell, Jamie. Book of the Dead: The Complete History of Zombie Cinema. Surrey, UK:
FAB Press, 2005.
Sheller, Mimi. Consuming the Caribbean: From Arawaks to Zombies. New York: Rout-
ledge, 2003.
W

Westerns

Although it follows some of the basic conventions for storytelling and has been
transplanted to a variety of filmmaking cultures, the western is a quintessentially
American genre that not only romanticizes a particular period of U.S. history but
also draws on symbols and narrative structures central to the American imagina-
tion. Although non-American westerns have been produced for decades—among
the best known are the “spaghetti” westerns of Italy and the “curry” westerns of
“Bollywood”—the template on which these other versions draw relies on Ameri-
can religious and cultural demographics, American Protestant notions of good
versus evil, and American notions of sacred space.
The western was, along with stories from the Bible, among the early narrative
forms to find its way onto film, tracing its roots to The Virginian (1914), based on
Owen Wister’s 1902 novel of the same name. Films in this genre were prominent
in part because of their popularity among the people most likely to frequent early
films—working-class and immigrant city dwellers for whom life on the “wide
open range” was as exotic an existence as they might hope to experience, even
vicariously. These films were also easy to make, largely because of their straight-
forward story lines, facile mixture of romance and adventure, stock characters,
and availability of scenery for on-location filming by the early film studios that,
because of anti-Semitic boycotts organized by the New York film elites, had relo-
cated to the West Coast and settled in and around what is today Los Angeles.
As a genre, westerns are not often considered particularly religious films. Like
many early silent films, they often rely on visual clues to situate religion; visu-
ally identifiable clergy (Catholic priests and various Protestant ministers who wear
familiar clerical garb—collars or hats—or are never without their Bibles clutched
firmly in one hand) or lay people in particularly religious modes, such as with
hands clasped, kneeling, or with head bowed in prayer. Clergy are often repre-
sented only as functional elements of the plot, present when needed to further the

457
458 | Westerns

narrative—to perform a wedding, for example, or preside over a funeral—and are

not often represented as a central to the development of the story. On the other
hand, religiosity is often on display, as lay folk struggle with evil temptations or
crises of faith.
Like films in other genres, westerns have purported to portray with some
accuracy the time periods they depict, in this case replicating life west of the
Mississippi River. As such, they often portray a culture where formal religious
institutions and clergy were relatively scarce and the population beyond East coast
“civilization” was largely made up of “unchurched” Protestants, with some Catho-
lics, some practitioners of Native American religious traditions, and on occasion a
few African American Protestants. In both the films and the culture it represents,
there were significantly fewer Buddhists and almost no Jews; those there were are
often consigned to urban environs. Representations of members of these various
religious communities have often drawn on European American Protestant stereo-
types: Catholics have been represented as political or social impediments, as either
historic adversaries (Spanish or Mexican empires) or metaphorical ones; members
of the “Black Church” (that is, Protestant denominations historically composed of
African American congregations) have been represented as socially and politically
marginal and emotional in their expression of religiosity rather than doctrinal; Jews
have been represented as merchants; and Buddhists have been represented as laun-
derers, railroad workers, or domestic servants.
These patterns have, at times, been challenged, as in the classic The Ox-Bow
Incident (1943), in which the fiber of the Protestant minister who has been taken
along on a posse to vouch for its moral authenticity is feeble in comparison to
that of the one person expressing significant religious devotion—the (Spanish-
speaking) Mexican Catholic who is among the alleged criminals captured by the
posse. In other films, religious difference is minimized in favor of racial distinc-
tions, as when European and European American Catholic clergy—like their Eu-
ropean American Protestant counterparts—are used to visually represent piety,
morality, and goodness in the face of “worse” (race-based) evil, be it Native
American “pagans” or Mexican “heathens.”
At the center of this religious symbol system, however, is the European Amer-
ican Protestant who represents the true “American” of the expanding nation. This
pattern has perpetuated a cultural myth about American religious history: that
even though Catholics and Native Americans arrived in North America before
Protestants, their presence here was inconsequential except insofar as it served as
the prologue for Protestant cultural dominance. It also accentuates the Protestant
doctrine of the personal relationship with the divine and the priesthood of all
believers—a doctrine that is particularly handy for those beyond the reach of in-
stitutional religion. These pioneers of the West become the paragon of Protestant
 Westerns | 459

America (replacing the Puritan),

boldly seeking to expand the nation
for the good of all while retaining a
strong sense of personal piety, and
not in serious need of formal reli-
gious institutions to do either. John
Wayne’s famous use of the term
pilgrim in The Man Who Shot Lib-
erty Valance (1962) nicely reflects
this point, but ironically, given the
history of the Mormon relationship
with Protestant America, so does
the 1940 feature Brigham Young,
which portrays the Mormon mi-
gration of 1846–1847—under the
leadership of Young, also known as
the “American Moses”—from Illi-
nois to the Salt Lake Basin follow-
Gary Cooper and Grace Kelly portray the soon-
ing the lynching of Joseph Smith. to-be retired sheriff and his new bride in High
Despite concerns raised by Noon, 1951. AP Photo.
members of some cultural groups
portrayed in westerns—particularly Native Americans but also African Americans
and women—that their representations have been either benign mischaracteriza-
tions or the perpetuation of negative stereotypes, westerns were never intended to
be entirely historically accurate and might best be interpreted as allegories for the
times in which they have been created—morality tales of cosmic good versus evil.
From their initial appearance as a film genre through their heyday in the 1950s,
westerns traditionally presented audiences with morally unambiguous conflicts
and clearly identified heroes and villains. The relative overabundance of Protestant
clergy, for example, when compared with clergy of all other religious traditions,
signals the mythic dominance of Anglo-Protestant culture over all others: the Native
Americans who had occupied the land first; the Catholics who had been brought by
rival Spain or maintained by rival Mexico; perpetual outsiders in Christian society
(Jews); or more recent outsiders (Buddhists). Westerns made before World War II
reflect the American preoccupation with westward expansion in which representa-
tions of Native Americans as “pagan” justified the march to the Pacific, completed
by the end of the 19th century but still of concern in the early decades of the 20th.
During and after World War II, the country’s attention became more globally fo-
cused, still reflecting the American preoccupation with conflict and dominance
but now transferred from Native Americans to the Germans and Japanese. Like
460 | Westerns

other films produced during this period, westerns functioned as allegories of “good
versus evil” in which the United States was the “good guy” not just “taming the
wild West” but also fighting the global “bad guy” (Germany, Japan, totalitarianism,
lawlessness, etc.). By the Cold War, the global struggle turned against Commu-
nism, not only in the Soviet Union but also in Hollywood (and the rest of American
society), where the House Un-American Activities Committee pursued “the evil
within,” and many individuals (from studio heads on down) complied or risked
condemnation. In an allegory of doing the right thing in the face of near-universal
acquiescence, High Noon (1952) portrays a former sheriff who, in the absence of
his replacement on the day of his own wedding, decides to do the right thing and
stay on the job to protect the town from a band of villains who are returning to kill
him, even though none of his fellow citizens are willing to help him. In the end, he
is able to defeat all of the gunmen save one, who is gunned down by the sheriff’s
new wife, a Quaker who had been one of those advocating that they leave town
rather than face the villains. By the late 1960s and early 1970s, the coming of age
of the “baby boomer” generation—those born between 1946 and 1963—brought
to the fore a new cultural preoccupation: the nature of authority and challenges to
it. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969), about the 19th century gunslingers/
train robbers who headed the “Hole in the Wall” Gang, reflects the concerns and
interests of an emerging youth generation that is increasingly hostile to “establish-
ment” institutions like church and government, and champions (as in the earlier
Bonnie and Clyde [1967]) the “outlaws” over the “establishment.” In both films
the “bad guys” are killed in the end, but in a way that would have been prohibited
had the Hollywood Production Code still had any influence; these endings almost
glorify their heroes’ earlier behavior, justifying the youthfully rebellious ideal of
rather going out “with a bang than a whimper.”
On a more structural level, there is a religious narrative aspect to many westerns
that transcends tradition-based religious affiliations or allegorical or morality-
based notions of good and evil. Scholar of myth Joseph Campbell identifies a
“monomyth”—a myth structure used around the globe in which the hero, who un-
derstands himself to be of simple birth, finds himself caught up in a larger cosmic
drama and, after initially refusing any responsibility, accepts his royal lineage (and
the destiny that comes with it) and is not only transformed into the hero but thereby
also transforms those who are in need of his heroic actions. A modern depiction of
the classic monomyth can be found in the older Star Wars trilogy (Star Wars [1977];
Star Wars: Episode V—The Empire Strikes Back [1980]; Star Wars: Episode VI—
Return of the Jedi [1983]), in which Luke Skywalker, who sees himself of common
birth, finds himself caught up in a cosmic drama, confronts his royal lineage, and
ultimately accepts his destiny. (Campbell is even acknowledged in the credits of the
first of these films.)
 Westerns | 461

The western parallels this classic monomyth pattern—and some scholars

have identified “western” elements in Star Wars—yet deviates from in it a sig-
nificant way. Scholars Robert Jewett and John Shelton Lawrence have described
a particularly American monomyth in which the emphasis is less on the develop-
ment of the hero and more on the interaction between the hero and the people
he saves. In a pattern that Catherine Albanese, a scholar of American religion,
calls “trouble in paradise,” the American monomyth focuses on an Edenic com-
munity suddenly amid grave danger or violence yet unable to protect itself or
rectify the situation. A hero of unknown origin appears as if from nowhere and
saves the town; he cleanses the community and preserves its purity by perform-
ing acts of violence on its behalf. However, with blood on his own hands the hero
must withdraw from the now-restored Eden. In the western setting, the American
monomyth neatly conflates common—if at times contradictory—cultural sym-
bols, including those from Christianity, American populism, communalism, and
antidemocracy; the townspeople seek a savior who is not only not one of them
but is unable to stay on after his violent extrajudicial work is done because of the
blood on his hands.
Although there are a great many makers of westerns who have followed this
pattern, one of the more popular is Clint Eastwood, whose films High Plains Drifter
(1973) and Pale Rider (1985) replicate this template directly. The “stranger” of the
former and the “preacher” of the latter are both characters who appear as if from
nowhere either to save a town awaiting the return of hired guns who were framed
for the citizens’ own misdeeds or to help independent gold miners withstand the
pressure of an industrialist who wishes to evict them from their stake. In both
cases, the films end in extreme and explicit violence and the withdrawal of the
hero to places unknown, the latter ending with a scene mirroring the classic film
Shane (1953), only this time with a young woman (rather than a young boy) un-
successfully calling for the hero to return.
Two significant variations on the American monomyth model involve boundary
redefinition or boundary violation of the Edenic community that is the foundation
of the myth. In the former, “trouble in paradise” meets the American pilgrim, as
those who find themselves in need of unburdening themselves of various troubles
or negative reputations are able to be cleansed by the simple act of relocating.
One classic example (of many) is the 1939 film Stagecoach, which brings together
various characters running from some element of their past: a woman of compro-
mised reputation, an assortment of criminals, and the like. This model replicates the
larger American myth of the cleansing nature of nature, the purgative value of travel
through the wilderness, and the democratic value of “picking up and starting over.”
So powerful is this model that the original television program Star Trek (1966–1969,
NBC) was initially promoted internally as a “Wagon Train of the Stars,” playing off
462 | Westerns

the popularity of the long-running television western (1957–1965, NBC), which

gave rise to a subgenre of the American monomyth (well suited for television and
film sequels) in which emphasis is no longer on one location but on a series of loca-
tions in need of saving, addressing the “trouble” even as it continuously relocates
“paradise.”
The second variation found among many westerns involves “trouble in para-
dise” of a very particular form—boundary violation. Often this is the result of a
kidnapping, usually of European American women by Native American men, as
in The Searchers (1956), but occasionally it is the result of temporary (villainous,
and often violent) intrusions into the sacred space of the community, as in True
Grit (1969). Unlike the American monomyth, in each of these circumstances the
sacred space is not occupied by evil; it is violated, and those seeking to restore its
sacrality must venture from it in pursuit of evil.
Not all westerns have followed the conventional format; quite a number have
challenged it, in part or in whole. Some, like Sydney Pollack’s The Electric Horse-
man (1979), are set in the present and lament the passing of the American mythic
hero on horseback. Others more directly challenge the very presuppositions of the
genre. Ang Lee’s Brokeback Mountain (2005)—based on Annie Proulx’s short story
of the same name—challenges notions of masculinity by portraying two cowboys
who fall in love with each other. Others—like Bad Girls (1994) and The Quick and
the Dead (1995)—have challenged the assumption that cowboys must be male or,
like Posse (1993), white; or, like The Frisco Kid (1979), Christian. And still oth-
ers, like the musical Cat Ballou (1965) or the Mel Brooks satire Blazing Saddles
(1974), have played with the genre itself, bending it for entertainment purposes.
By the 1980s, transformations in American culture, global politics, and the
place and role of religion and religious categories in American society made sim-
ple “good versus evil” and “trouble in Paradise” constructions less compelling
for many audiences. Into this environment, westerns based on the original con-
structs were eclipsed by those with more nuanced or even morally ambiguous
narratives and character types. Only the second western since 1930 to earn an
Academy Award for “Best Film,” Clint Eastwood’s Unforgiven (1992) presents a
drama involving a former vicious gunslinger (reformed by a now-deceased lov-
ing wife) who agrees to join a young gunslinger pursuing—for reward only—two
naïve cowhands who had been involved in an incident of physical violence against
a well-meaning prostitute. While the older gunslinger is presented as the most
obvious candidate for the audience’s sympathy, none of the major characters is
without flaw, and all are unforgiven: the law-and-order sheriff is an abusive tyrant
and the reformed gunslinger is still a cold-blooded killer. Rather than retelling the
traditional hero tale of good versus evil, Unforgiven—like so many of its genre
predecessors—reflects the mood and culture of its time, except that this time it
 Women | 463

also reflects a contemporary audience more comfortable with moral ambiguity

than with stark moral absolutes.
Eric Michael Mazur
See also: American Indian Religion; Bible Films; Black Church, The; Brooks,
Mel; Buddhism; Catholicism; Censorship in Hollywood; Clergy; Judaism; Leone,
Sergio; Myth; Protestantism; Ritual; Silent Film.

Further Reading
Bliss, Michael. Justified Lives: Morality and Narrative in the Films of Sam Peckinpah.
Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1993.
Clauss, James J. “Descent into Hell: John Ford’s The Searchers.” Journal of Popular Film
and Television 27, no. 3 (1999): 2–17.
Jewett, Robert. “The Disguise of Vengeance in Pale Rider.” In Religion and Popular Cul-
ture in America, edited by Bruce David Forbes and Jeffrey H. Mahan, 243–257. Berkeley:
University of California Press, 2000.
Lawrence, John Shelton, and Robert Jewett. The Myth of the American Superhero. Grand
Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2002.
Lindvall, Terry. “God in the Saddle: Silent Western Films as Protestant Sermons.” Austra-
lian Religious Studies Review 21, no. 3 (2008): 318–344.
Marsden, Michael T. “Western Films: America’s Secularized Religion.” In Movies as
Artifacts: Cultural Criticism of Popular Film, edited by Michael T. Marsden, John G.
Nachbar, and Sam L. Grogg, Jr., 105–114. Chicago: Nelson-Hall, 1982.

Women

The study of women and film is still in its nascent stages, having begun in the
1960s and 1970s but still undergoing vibrant transformation and development.
The study of women and religion in film is even newer and in recent decades has
been subject to fresh developments of the study of religion and film. There are thus
a number of interconnected and overlapping content areas and conceptualizations
of theory at play in the study of women, religion, and film, and any examination of
this interdisciplinary study must take into account the complexity of the multiple
fields that inform it.
In the 1970s, riding the waves of the women’s movement, women began de-
veloping new insights in film theory that sparked a reappraisal of film history from
a female point of view, producing new journals like the groundbreaking Women
and Film (1972–1975) and generating a host of new resources, both theory-based
464 | Women

and creative. A crucial component of this process was the recognition of the “male
gaze” as the controlling perspective in much of past and present film production.
This period saw a similar reassessment of male control of religious authority; it
included feminist challenges to liturgy and a rise in the number of women seek-
ing to become ordained religious leaders. This era also saw dramatic growth in a
modern appreciation of the goddess figure as an earthy, powerful female divinity
“rescued” from prehistory and deposited in current “her-story.” In the 1980s, femi-
nist theorists like Judith Butler, Teresa de Lauretis, and Judith Flax theorized about
the constructed nature of gender. The impact of this new theoretical work was that
many women were becoming more aware of the constructed nature of reality;
as they did so, they increasingly challenged assumptions about male authority in
both religion and film. Accordingly, they began to object to some of the images of
women that men had constructed in film.
One of the most recognizable stereotypical figures in film, the vamp, has some
definite religious implications in its most misogynistic representations. The vamp
has a number of incarnations, including the femme fatale of 1940s film noir and
the diva of Italian cinema. Scholars have presented the vamp as a wayward woman,
a parasite who preys on men with her sexual allure, ruining their character and
often destroying families in the process. This figure can function as a secularized
form of Eve, who similarly has been represented in patriarchal interpretations of
her as a seductress who deceives men and destroys the moral fabric of society. The
association of Eve as vamp is much older than the feminist critiques of it; in Roger
Vadim’s Et Dieu . . . créa la femme (. . . And God Created Woman, 1956), the title to
the film alerts viewers to the vamp’s metonymic function despite the lack of ex-
plicit content relating to the Bible account in Genesis from which the film takes its
name. Like most male-centered interpretations of Eve, Juliet is a winsome but wild
creature, ruining men’s lives with her voracious and amoral sexual appetite.
The fear of women’s sexual power is a consistent theme in film and comes
through especially strongly in patriarchal filmic versions of other alluring bibli-
cal women, including Delilah, Salome, and Mary Magdalene—particularly when
the woman is depicted as a repentant whore, as in some of the most controversial
recent Jesus films, including The Last Temptation of Christ (1988) and The Pas-
sion of the Christ (2004). They are all biblical versions of the 20th-century filmic
vamp who has been secularized but still represents the worst of patriarchal fear of
women’s sexual strength.
On the other hand, Lilith, according to Jewish legend the maligned first wife
of Adam, was not well known enough in 20th-century popular culture to appear
in film as a stereotypical female figure. She is best known for her refusal to allow
Adam to be her master in sexual encounters and for her consequent demonization
after being replaced by the more compliant (if otherwise still problematic) Eve.
 Women | 465

However, Lilith has been rehabilitated through recent feminist retellings and has,
in the process, become a symbol of feminine power and challenge to patriarchy,
leading director Lynne Sachs to retell her story, via memoir and collage, in her
experimental documentary A Biography of Lilith (1997).
In some ways, women’s inclination to identify with the vamp or the femme
fatale in film is not so different from the age-old encouragement for women to
identify with biblical “vamps”— especially typical representations of Eve—and to
blame themselves for society’s ills. The direct association of women with intentional
societal harm is made in George Cukor’s Adam’s Rib (1949), in which a husband
and wife, both lawyers, battle it out in the courtroom over the violence committed
by a female defendant. The predictable outcome of this male-directed film—that
the woman on trial had no right to defend herself with violence—contrasts sharply
with Marleen Gorriss’s De Stilte rond Christine M. (A Question of Silence, 1982),
in which a shopkeeper is murdered by three women because of their anger and frus-
tration over living in a patriarchal society. The women feel fully justified and refuse
to speak openly about what happened in order to protect one another.
Some scholars have argued that the image of the vamp, as problematic as
it is, is in fact not the most terrifying image of monstrous women in film. More
threatening might be the feminine monstrous as depicted in the vagina dentata,
ferociously clamping itself onto men and their phallic sources of life energy; for
example, the mythic re-enactment of the ancient Near Eastern defeat of Tiamat
by Marduk in Jaws (1975) or literally in Teeth (2007), in the castrating power of
a teenage girl who wreaks vengeance on disrespectful young men who try to use
her sexually.
As popular in current film of woman as the vagina dentata and the sexual se-
ductress is the representation of the vamp as vampire, literally consuming men via
their life blood. The most obvious recent example is Vamp (1986), in which fun-
loving college boys are seduced and drained of their life energy by evil vampire
hookers. Not all female vampires are heterosexual, however. Some have argued
that the representation of women as vampires has been exploited increasingly
for the representation of lesbian women and creates an invisibility of authentic
lesbian lives that have not been adequately addressed by traditional feminist film
theory.
Other recent monstrous film images of the feminine include the female alien,
usually presented as the sinister mother/leader of her alien drones, and the cy-
borg. The extraterrestrials in Aliens (1986), for example, are ruled by a monstrous
feminine force opposing civilization who is churning out an army of evil mon-
sters meant to destroy humankind, a surprisingly misogynistic and ethnocentric
image of some Americans’ fears of changing demographics and social policy. The
cyborg—identified with the technology she uses to make men’s lives easier—is
466 | Women

easily recognizable in The Step-

ford Wives (1975), which resonated
enough with American culture that it
was remade (2004), albeit with mild
gestures toward feminist rehabilita-
tion. On the other hand, The Fifth
Element (1997) presents a female
cyborg who refuses assimilation into
male societal structures, suggesting
resistance to the cyborg-feminine as
passive and obedient.
The disconnectedness from na-
ture represented by the female cyborg
contrasts sharply with the holistic
view of earth, humanity, and ecology
embraced by contemporary goddess
religion. It is not surprising, then, to
notice that even as female images of
the monstrous stalked movie screens
around America, there were new fe-
Sigourney Weaver as Ripley in Aliens, 1986.
AP Photo/File. male directors working to counteract
popular depictions of the feminine
as monstrous. Through documentaries that argue for the worship of the goddess,
these feminist scholars argue that the goddess was worshipped long before a male
god was imagined. The goddess, they claim, was vilified and rejected in the shift
from prehistory to history, from female-centered to male-centered culture and reli-
gion, and that they can be seen today only in more negative male-centered vestiges
in sacred literature and legend.
To publicize this claim, director Donna Read produced the Women in Spiri-
tuality series, commonly viewed in academic contexts for its interviews with fa-
mous feminist scholars—such as Carol Christ, Merlin Stone, and Starhawk—who
support goddess worship, and featuring historical claims based on the research of
feminist Marija Gimbutas. In addition to presenting a roundtable discussion by fa-
mous feminists, Goddess Remembered (1989) argues (based on tenuous evidence)
that worship of a singular goddess predates all other world religions. The Burning
Times (1990)—also riddled with minor historical inaccuracies—is a worthy at-
tempt to bring the persecution of witches in early modern Europe to greater pub-
lic attention. Full Circle (1993) interviews women developing new contemporary
spiritual paths and argues for ecological responsibility based on feminist spiritual
perspectives. The charm of these films is somewhat dampened by their occasional
 Women | 467

historical errors and their easy assumptions based on incomplete historical evi-
dence, but they produce a stirring portrait of some modern women’s identification
with a goddess that they believe to be as old as creation.
Women who are not drawn to goddess worship may still yearn for more posi-
tive portraits of female spirituality in film. Growing awareness of the constructed
nature of film images and narratives has led recent woman directors to take a more
conscious and direct role in the development of new films about women’s experi-
ences, many of which include spiritual or religious content. As women have taken
an increasingly active role in the production of films, they have produced a new
perspective, what one scholar called “the absence of the controlling male gaze.”
In its place, they have constructed contemplative considerations of women’s lives
and work and the deep meaning that can be found there.
One of the most powerful of these films in recent years is Daughters of the
Dust (1991), directed by Julie Dash, the first African American woman director to
release an major feature film. The film is remarkable for its powerful evocation of
women’s West African spiritual traditions. It chronicles two days in the life of the
Peazant family, who, in 1902, are living on an island off the coast of South Carolina
and Georgia and facing increasing pressure from the seepage of modern American
life into their private existence. The film endearingly celebrates female spiritual-
ity, especially as embodied in the person of Nana Peazant, as generations of her
descendants surround her to say goodbye before she moves permanently to the
mainland. Other characters allegorically represent the conflicting roles of women
in Christianity and in secular American life, as these chafe against a deeply felt
African veneration of gods and (especially) goddesses; Nana in particular evokes
the spiritual majesty of a creator goddess of the Yoruba pantheon. Dash’s film
intentionally highlights women’s struggles: with sexuality, with family, with their
relationships with men, with children, and with other women in intergenerational
communication. Daughters of the Dust admirably shows the beauty that can arise
from a woman-centered, woman-told story of religion in film.
One of the most important of the new female auteurs is Deepa Mehta, director
of the groundbreaking Elements trilogy, consisting of Fire (1996), Earth (1998),
and Water (2005). Upon its initial release, Fire caused intense controversy in con-
servative Hindu circles because of its sympathetic depiction of a lesbian relation-
ship between two Indian women who had been neglected by their husbands.
A Hindu nationalist group, the Shiv Sena, stormed theaters and led protests against
the film; its members were particularly offended by the naming of characters in the
film after Hindu gods and goddesses and were fueled by fears that the film might
prove exemplary for unhappy Hindu women who viewed it. Water also deals di-
rectly with women’s lives, chronicling the experiences of widows in an ashram in
Varanasi, India.
468 | Women

Whereas directors like Dash and Mehta use fiction to discuss real facets of
history and women’s place in it, other female directors tell true women’s stories
via documentaries, especially with an ethnographic tone. In the past two decades,
there has been a substantial increase in female-directed ethnogaphic films, some
of which present stories about women finding their identity within or in contrast
to particular religious worldviews. Ilil Alexander’s Et Sheaava Nafshi (Keep Not
Silent: Ortho-Dykes, 2004) tells the story of three Jewish lesbians in Jerusalem as
they try to find their place in a world hostile to their perspective. Jeanne Finley’s
Conversations across the Bosphorus (1995) reveals details from the lives of two
Muslim women from Istanbul and their struggles with faith, secularism, and the
veil. Claire Hunt and Kim Longinotto’s The Good Wife of Tokyo (1992) describes
a secular Japanese American woman’s journey back to Japan and her encoun-
ter with native but new religious and cultural traditions there. Ngozi Onwurah’s
Monday’s Girls (1993) portrays one young African woman’s struggle of with her
tribe’s premarriage coming-of-age rites and another young woman’s appreciation
of them. Directed by Allie Light, Irving Saraf, and Carol Monpere, The Sermons
of Sister Jane: Believing the Unbelievable (2007) offers a glimpse into the life of
Sister Jane, who fights corruption in the Catholic Church, putting her faith in the
ideals of Christianity above the church’s institutionalized hierarchy of men and
women. Telling women’s stories is a new and powerful trend and can help to offer
insights into how women today are making new sense of religious traditions that
have historically presented few meaningful choices for women.
The new theoretical work going on today in the study of women, religion, and
film is a complex, interdisciplinary process of discovering and analyzing how re-
ligious themes can be recycled, secularized, obscured, or exploited in film. This
research has moved well beyond the transparent recognition of negative portrayals
of women playing the roles of easily recognizable religious characters and is nu-
anced today by scholars examining the “monstrous” portrayal of women as well as
by the production of new films that rehabilitate or replace such images with new
ones. Obviously of particular interest to feminists will be the deconstruction of
patriarchal assumptions about religion, but scholars interested in this field would
do well to also look at how women theorists today are developing fresh perspec-
tives, and how women producers and directors are crafting new stories of women’s
experiences in film.
Rachel Wagner
See also: Africa; Bible Films; Bollywood; Catholicism; Clergy; Hinduism;
Islam; Japan; Jesus; Judaism; The Last Temptation of Christ Controversy; The
Passion of the Christ Controversy; Posthumanism; Science Fiction; Vampires.
 Women | 469

Further Reading
Guomundsdottir, A. “Female Christ-Figures in Films: A Feminist Critical Analysis of
Breaking the Waves and Dead Man Walking.” Studia Theologica 56, no. 1 (2002):
27–43.
Locke, Maryel, and Charles Warren. Jean-Luc Godard’s Hail Mary: Women and the Sacred
in Film. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1993.
Schleich, K. Hollywood and Catholic Women: Virgins, Whores, Mothers, and Other
Images. Lincoln, NB: Universe, 2003.
Sullivan, Rebecca. “Celluloid Sisters: Femininity, Religiosity, and the Postwar American
Nun Film.” Velvet Light Trap 46 (2000): 56–72.
Vollmer, Ulrike. Film and Feminist Theology in Dialogue. New York: Palgrave, 2007.
Appendix: Filmography

The following list provides basic filmographic information for the films identified
in the entries of this encyclopedia: title, year released, director, and main (but by no
means all) billed actors. No attempt has been made to identify all films containing,
making reference to, or interpreted as relevant to religion or some aspect thereof.
For the most part, for the purposes of this filmography, only those films released in
general admission theaters have been included; some documentaries can be found
listed below, as can a few “made for television” movies. Most “straight to video”
films have not been included, and information for serialized television programs
can be found within the specific entries. Award citations for any of the following
films may be mentioned in the specific entries but are not listed here. Entries men-
tioning the film can be found at the end of each film entry, in brackets [ ].
English names of non-English titles have been included for cross-referencing
purposes, unless the film was released to an English-speaking audience under its
non-English title. These are often—but not always—translations of the title. Except
for most of the films cited in the “Arab Film” entry, which have been taken from
Viola Shafik’s Arab Cinema: History and Cultural Identity, revised edition (Cairo:
American University in Cairo Press, 2007), all of the title transliterations have
been taken from the online Internet Movie Database (IMDb.com). In some cases,
information identifying films released under several names has been provided.

—A —
al-A’asar (The Tornado), 1992. Dir. Samir Habchi. [Arab Film]
Abie’s Irish Rose, 1928. Dir. Victor Fleming. Charles “Buddy” Rogers, Nancy
Carroll, Jean Hersholt, J. Farrell MacDonald, Bernard Gorcey. [Silent Film]
Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein, 1948. Dir. Charles Barton. Bud Abbott,
Lou Costello, Lon Chaney, Jr., Bela Lugosi, Glenn Strange, Léonore Aubert.
[Vampires]
ABCD, 1999. Dir. Krutin Patel. Madhur Jaffrey, Faran Tahir, Sheetal Sheth, Aasif
Mandvi, David Ari. [Hinduism]

471
472 | Appendix: Filmography

About Schmidt, 2002. Dir. Alexander Payne. Jack Nicholson, Kathy Bates,
Hope Davis, Dermot Mulroney, June Squibb, Howard Hesseman. [Myth]
al-Abwab al-moghlaka (Closed Doors), 1999. Dir. Atef Hetata. Mahmoud
Hemida, Sawsan Badr, Ahmed Azmi, Manal Afifi, Ahmed Fouad Selim.
[Arab Film]
Accattone, 1961. Dir. Pier Paolo Pasolini. Franco Citti, Franca Pasut, Silvana
Corsini, Paola Guidi, Adriana Asti. [Pasolini, Pier Paolo]
Ace Ventura, 1994. Dir. Tom Shadyac. Jim Carrey, Courteney Cox, Sean Young,
Tone Loc, Dan Marino. [Myth]
Adam’s Rib, 1949. Dir. George Cukor. Spencer Tracy, Katharine Hepburn, Judy
Holliday, Tom Ewell, David Wayne, Jean Hagen. [Women]
Adaptation, 2002. Dir. Spike Jonze. Nicholas Cage, Tilda Swinton, Meryl Streep,
Chris Cooper, Jay Tavare. [Myth]
Addiction, The, 1995. Dir. Abel Ferrara. Lili Taylor, Christopher Walken,
Anabella Sciorra, Edie Falco, Paul Caulderon. [Vampires]
Adventures of Baron Munchausen, The, 1988. Dir. Terry Gilliam. John Neville,
Eric Idle, Sarah Polley, Oliver Reed, Charles McKeown. [Gilliam, Terry]
Adventures of Robin Hood, The, 1938. Dir. Michael Curtiz, William Keighley.
Errol Flynn, Olivia de Havilland, Basil Rathbone, Claude Rains, Patric
Knowles. [Clergy]
Affair, The. See Silsila.
Affaires Publiques, Les (Public Affairs), 1934. Dir. Robert Bresson. Beby,
Andrée Servilanges, Marcel Dalio, Gilles Margaritis, Simone Cressier.
[Bresson, Robert]
African Queen, The, 1951. Dir. John Huston. Humphrey Bogart, Katharine
Hepburn, Robert Morley, Peter Bull, Theodore Bikel. [Clergy; Protestantism]
After Life. See Wandâfuru raifu.
After Hours, 1985. Dir. Martin Scorsese. Griffin Dunne, Rosanna Arquette, Verna
Bloom, Tommy Chong, Linda Fiorentino, Teri Garr, John Heard, Cheech
Marin, Catherine O’Hara. [Scorsese, Martin]
Against a Crooked Sky, 1975. Dir. Earl Bellamy. Richard Boone, Stewart
Petersen, Henry Wilcoxon, Clint Ritchie, Shannon Farnon. [Mormonism]
L’Âge d’or (The Golden Age), 1930. Dir. Luis Buñuel. Gaston Modot, Lya Lys,
Caridad de Laberdesque, Max Ernst, Josep Llorens Artigas. [Buñuel, Luis]
Age of Innocence, The, 1993. Dir. Martin Scorsese. Daniel Day-Lewis, Michelle
Pfeiffer, Winona Ryder, Alexis Smith, Geraldine Chaplin. [Scorsese, Martin]
Agnes of God, 1985. Dir. Norman Jewison. Jane Fonda, Anne Bancroft, Meg
Tilly, Anne Pitoniak, Winston Rekert. [Catholicism; Mysticism]
Agni Varsha (The Fire and the Rain), 2002. Dir. Arjun Sajnani. Jackie Shroff,
Kumar Iyengar, Raveena Tandon, Nagarjuna Akkineni, Ashfaq Rauf. [Myth]
 Appendix: Filmography | 473

Agostino d’Ippone (Augustine of Hippo), 1972. Television. Dir. Roberto

Rossellini. Dary Berkani, Virgilio Gazzolo, Cesare Barbetti, Bruno Cattaneo,
Leonardo Fioravanti. [Europe (Continental)]
Aguirre, der Zorn Gottes (Aguirre: The Wrath of God),1972. Dir. Werner Herzog.
Klaus Kinski, Helena Rojo, Del Negro, Ruy Guerra, Peter Berling. [Coppola,
Francis Ford; Europe (Continental)]
Aguirre: The Wrath of God. See Aguirre, der Zorn Gottes.
Air Force One, 1997. Dir. Wolfgang Petersen. Harrison Ford, Gary Oldman,
Glenn Close, Wendy Crewson, Liesel Matthews. [Islam]
Akibiyori (Late Autumn), 1960. Dir. Yasujirō Ozu. Setsuko Hara, Yôko Tsukasa,
Mariko Okada, Keiji Sada, Miyuki Kuwano. [Ozu, Yasujirō]
Akira, 1988. Dir. Katsuhiro Otomo. Mitsuo Iwata, Nozomu Sasaki, Mami
Koyama, Tessho Genda, Hiroshi Otake, Koichi Kitamura. [Japan]
Aladdin, 1992. Dir. Ron Clements and John Musker. Scott Weinger, Robin
Williams, Linda Larkin, Jonathan Freeman, Frank Welker. [Islam]
Aleksandr Nevskiy (Alexander Nevsky), 1938. Dir. Sergei M. Eisenstein and
Dmitri Vasilyev. Nikolai Cherkasov, Nikolai Okhlopkov, Andrei Abrikosov,
Dmitri Orlov, Valili Novikov, Nikolai Arsky. [Russia]
Alexander, 2004. Dir. Oliver Stone. Anthony Hopkins, David Bedella, Jessie
Kamm, Angelina Jolie, Val Kilmer. [Greek and Roman Myths]
Alexander Nevsky. See Aleksandr Nevskiy.
Alexanderia . . . Why? See Iskandariyya . . . leh?
Ali, 2001. Dir. Michael Mann. Will Smith, Jamie Foxx, Jon Voight, Mario Van
Peebles, Ron Silver. [Sports]
Alice, 1990. Dir. Woody Allen. Mia Farrow, Alec Baldwin, Blythe Danner, Judy
Davis, William Hurt. [Allen, Woody]
Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore, 1974. Dir. Martin Scorsese. Mia Bendixsen,
Ellen Burstyn, Alfred Lutter III, Billy Green Bush, Lelia Goldoni. [Scorsese,
Martin]
Alien, 1979. Dir. Ridley Scott. Tom Skerrit, Sigourney Weaver, Veronica
Cartwright, Harry Dean Stanon, John Hurt, Ian Holm. [Horror; Science
Fiction]
Aliens, 1986. Dir. James Cameron. Sigourney Weaver, Carrie Henn, Michael
Biehn, Lance Henriksen, Paul Reiser, Bill Paxton. [Ritual; Vampires; Women]
All Dogs Go to Heaven, 1989. Dir. Don Bluth, Gary Goldman. Burt Reynolds,
Dom Deluise, Judith Barsi, Melba Moore, Daryl Gilley. [Animated Films]
Alles auf Zucker! (Go for Zucker!), 2004. Dir. Dani Levy. Henry Hübchen,
Hannelore Elsner, Udo Samel, Golda Tencer, Steffen Groth. [Europe
(Continental)]
All the Colors of the Dark. See Tutti i colori del buio.
474 | Appendix: Filmography

Altered States, 1980. Dir. Ken Russell. William Hurt, Blair Brown, Bob Balaban,
Charles Haid, Thaao Penghlis. [Mysticism]
Always, 1989. Dir. Steven Spielberg. Richard Dreyfuss, Holly Hunter, Brad
Johnson, John Goodman, Audrey Hepburn. [Heaven]
Amarcord (I Remember),1973. Dir. Federico Fellini. Pupella Maggio, Armando
Brancia, Magali Noël, Ciccio Ingrassia, Nando Orfei. [Fellini, Federico]
Amazing Grace, 2006. Dir. Michael Apted. Ioan Gruffudd, Romola Garai,
Benedict Cumberbatch, Albert Finney, Michael Gambon. [Clergy;
Protestantism]
American Beauty, 1999. Dir. Sam Mendes. Kevin Spacey, Annette Bening, Thora
Birch, Wes Bentley, Mena Suvari. [Belief; Myth]
American Gigolo, 1980. Dir. Paul Schrader. Richard Gere, Lauren Hutton,
Hector Elizondo, Nina Van Pallandt, Bill Duke. [Schrader, Paul]
American Ninja 3: Blood Hunt, 1989. Dir. Cedric Sundstrom. David Bradley,
Steve James, Marjoe Gortner, Michele B. Chan, Yehuda Efroni. [Islam]
American Ninja 4: The Annihilation, 1990. Dir. Cedric Sundstrom. Michael
Dudikoff, David Bradley, James Booth, Dwayne Alexandre, Ken Gampu.
[Islam]
American Tail, An, 1986. Dir. Don Bluth. Erica Yohn, Nehemiah Persoff, Amy
Green, Phillip Glasser, Christopher Plummer, Madeline Kahn, Dom DeLuise.
[Mormonism]
Amityville Horror, The, 1979. Dir. Stuart Rosenberg. James Brolin, Margot
Kidder, Rod Steiger, Don Stroud, Murray Hamilton. [Catholicism; Clergy;
Horror]
Amityville II: The Possession, 1982. Dir. Damiano Damiani. James Olson, Burt
Young, Rutanya Alda, Jack Manger, Andrew Prine. [Horror]
Amores Perros (Love’s a Bitch), 2000. Dir. Alejandro González Iñárritu. Emilio
Echevarria, Gael Garcia Bernal, Goya Toledo, Alvaro Guerrero, Vanessa
Bauche. [Belief; Latin America]
Andalusian Dog, an. See chien andalou, Un.
Anastasia, 1997. Dir. Don Bluth, Gary Goldman. Meg Ryan, John Cusack,
Kelsey Grammer, Christopher Lloyd, Hank Azaria, Bernadette Peters, Kirsten
Dunst, Angela Lansbury, Andrea Martin. [Mormonism]
And Your Mother Too. See Y tu mama también.
Andrei Rublev. See Andrey Rubylov.
Andrey Rublyov (Andrei Rublev), 1966. Dir. Andrei Tarkovsky. Anatoli
Solonitsyn, Ivan Lapikov, Nikolai Grinko, Nikolai Sergeyev, Irma Raush.
[Russia; Tarkovsky, Andrei]
Angel-A, 2005. Dir. Luc Besson. Jamel Debbouze, Rie Rasmussen, Gilbert
Melki, Serge Riaboukine, Akim Chir. [Besson, Luc]
 Appendix: Filmography | 475

Angel and the Badman, 1947. Dir. James Edward Grant. John Wayne, Gail
Russell, Harry Carey, Bruce Cabot, Irene Rich. [Protestantism]
Angel Baby, 1961. Dir. Paul Wendkos. George Hamilton, Mercedes
McCambridge, Joan Blondell, Henry Jones, Burt Reynolds. [Clergy]
Angels in the Outfield, 1994. Dir. William Dear. Danny Glover, Brenda Fricker,
Tony Danza, Christopher Lloyd, Ben Johson. [Sports]
Angels with Dirty Faces, 1938. Dir. Michael Curtiz. James Cagney, Pat
O’Brian, Humphrey Bogart, Ann Sheridan, George Bancroft. [Catholicism;
Clergy]
Angels of the Streets. See anges du péché, Les.
Anger Management, 2003. Dir. Peter Segal. Adam Sandler, Jack Nicholson,
Marisa Tomei, Luis Gusmán. [Clergy]
Anges du péché, Les (Angels of the Streets), 1943. Dir. Robert Bresson. Renée
Faure, Jany Holt, Sylvie, Mila Parély, Marie-Hélène Dasté. [Bresson, Robert;
Europe (Continental)]
Angry Harvest. See Bittere Ernte.
Annie Hall, 1977. Dir. Woody Allen. Woody Allen, Diane Keaton, Tony Roberts,
Carol Kane, Paul Simon. [Allen, Woody]
Another Woman, 1988, Dir. Woody Allen. Gena Rowlands, Mia Farrow, Ian
Holm, Blyth Danner, Gene Hackman. [Allen, Woody]
Antichrist, 2009. Dir. Lars von Trier. Willem Dafoe, Charlotte Gainsbourg.
[Trier, Lars von]
Antichrist, The (also known as The Tempter). See L’Anticristo.
L’Anticristo (The Antichrist, also known as The Tempter), 1974. Dir. Alberto De
Martino. Carla Gravina, Mel Ferrer, Arthur Kennedy, George Coulouris, Alida
Valli. [Devil]
Anything Else, 2003. Dir. Woody Allen. Jason Biggs, Christina Ricci, Woody
Allen, Stockard Channing, Danny DeVito. [Allen, Woody]
Apocalypse, The, 1997. Dir. Hubert C. de la Bouillerie. Sandra Bernhard,
Cameron Dye, Frank Zagarino, Michelle Anne Johnson, Lee Arenberg.
[End-of-the-World Films]
Apocalypse II: Revelation. See Revelation.
Apocalypse III: Tribulation. See Tribulation.
Apocalypse IV: Judgment. See Judgment.
Apocalypse: Caught in the Eye of the Storm, 1998. Dir. Peter Gerretsen. Leigh
Lewis, Richard Nester, Sam Bornstein, David Roddis, David Want. [End-of-
the-World Films; Missionary Films]
Apocalypse Now, 1979. Dir. Francis Ford Coppola. Marlon Brando, Martin
Sheen, Robert Duvall, Frederic Forrest, Sam Bottoms. [Coppola, Francis
Ford; Greek and Roman Myths; Myth; Ritual]
476 | Appendix: Filmography

Apocalypto, 2006. Dir. Mel Gibson. Rudy Youngblood, Dalia Hernándes,

Jonathan Brewer, Morris Birdyellowhead, Carlos Emilio Báez. [Indigenous
Religions; Ritual]
Apostle, The, 1997. Dir. Robert Duvall. Robert Duvall, Farrah Fawcett, Billy
Bob Thornton, June Carter Cash, Miranda Richardson. [Belief; Censorship in
Hollywood; Clergy; Protestantism; Ritual]
Arabian Nights. See fiore delle mille e una notte, Il.
L’Argent (Money), 1983. Dir. Robert Bresson. Christian Patey, Vincent
Risterucci, Caroline Lang, Sylvie Van den Elsen, Beatrice Tabourin. [Bresson,
Robert; Europe (Continental)]
L’Argent de poche (Small Change), 1976. Dir. François Truffaut. Nicole Felix,
Chantal Mercier, Jean Francois Stevenin, Virginie Thevenet. [Truffaut,
François]
Armageddon, 1998. Dir. Michael Bay. Bruce Willis, Billy Bob Thornton, Ben
Affleck, Liv Tyler, Will Patton. [Myth; Science Fiction]
Arrival of a Train at La Ciotat. See L’Arrivée d’un train à La Ciotat.
L’Arrivée d’un train à La Ciotat (Arrival of a Train at La Ciotat), 1896.
Dir. Auguste Lumière, Louis Lumière. [Russia]
Artificial Intelligence: AI, 2001. Dir. Steven Spielberg. Haley Joel Osment,
Frances O’Connor, Sam Robards, Jake Thomas, Jude Law. [Myth;
Posthumanism; Science Fiction]
As Good as it Gets, 1997. Dir. James L. Brooks. Jack Nicholson, Helen Hunt,
Greg Kinnear, Cuba Gooding, Jr., Skeet Ulrich. [Ritual]
al-Asfur (The Sparrow), 1972. Dir. Youssef Chahine. Salah Kabil, Ali El Scherif,
Mahmoud El-Meliguy. [Arab Film]
Augustine of Hippo. See Agostino d’Ippone.
Au hasard Balthazar (Balthazar), 1966. Dir. Robert Bresson. Anne Wiazemsky,
François Lafarge, Philippe Asselin, Nathalie Joyaut, Walter Green. [Bresson,
Robert; Europe (Continental)]
Au revior les enfants, 1987. Dir. Louis Malle. Gaspard Manesse, Raphael Fejtö,
Francine Racette, Stanislas Carré de Malberg, Philippe Morier-Genoud.
[Clergy; Europe (Continental)]
Auto Focus, 2002. Dir. Paul Schrader. Greg Kinnear, Willem Dafoe, Rita Wilson,
Maria Bello, Ron Leibman. [Schrader, Paul]
Avenging Conscience, The: Thou Shalt Not Kill, 1914. Dir. D. W. Griffith.
Henry B. Walthall, Spottiswoode Aitken, Blanche Sweet, George Siegmann,
Ralph Lewis. [Silent Film]
Aviator, The, 2004. Dir. Martin Scorsese. Leonardo DiCaprio, Cate Blanchett,
Kate Beckinsale, John C. Reilly, Alec Baldwin, Alan Alda, Iam Holm, Danny
Huston, Gwen Stefani, Jude Law. [Scorsese, Martin]
 Appendix: Filmography | 477

Awaara (The Vagabond), 1951. Dir. Raj Kapoor. Raj Kapoor, Prithviraj Kapoor,
Nargis, Leela Chitnis, K. N. Singh. [Bollywood]

—B—
Bab al-sama maftuh (A Door to the Sky), 1989. Dir. Farida Belyazid. Chaabia
Laadraoui, Eva Saint-Paul, Zakia Tahri. [Arab Film; Ritual]
Babe, 1995. Dir. Chris Noonan. Christine Cavanaugh, Miriam Margolyes, Danny
Mann, Hugo Weaving, Miriam Flynn. [Australia]
Bab el hadid (Cairo Station), 1958. Dir. Youssef Chahine. Farid Shawqi, Hind
Rostom, Youssef Chahine, Hassan el Baroudi, Abdel Asis Khalil. [Africa]
Bab el Oued City, 1994. Dir. Marzak Allouache. Nadia Kaci, Mohamed Ourdache,
Hassan Abidou, Mabrouk Ait Amara, Messaoud Hattau. [Arab Film]
Babette’s Feast. See Babettes gaestebud.
Babettes gaestebud (Babette’s Feast), 1987. Dir. Gabriel Axel. Stépane Audran,
Birgitte Federspiel, Bodil Kjer, Jarl Kulle, Jean-Philippe Laffont. [Clergy;
Europe (Continental); Theology and Film]
Bacheha—Ye aseman (Children of Heaven), 1997. Dir. Majid Majidi.
Mohammad Amir Naji, Amir Farrokh Hashemian, Bahare Seddiqi, Nafise
Jafar Mohammadi, Fereshte Sarabandi. [Islam]
Bad Boy Bubby, 1993. Dir. Rolf de Heer. Nicholas Hope, Claire Benito, Palph
Cotterill, Carmel Johnson, Syd Brisbane. [Australia]
Bad Education. See Mala education, La.
Bad Girls, 1994. Dir. Jonathan Kaplan. Madeleine Stowe, Mary Stuart
Masterson, Andie MacDowell, Drew Barrymore, James Russo, Robert Loggia,
Dermot Mulroney. [Westerns]
Bad ma ra khahad bord (The Wind Will Carry Us), 1999. Dir. Abbas Kiarostami.
Behzad Dorani, Noghre Asadi, Roushan Daram Elmi, Bahman Ghobadi,
Shahpour Ghobadi. [Islam]
Bad Santa, 2003. Dir. Terry Zwigoff. Billy Bob Thorton, Tony Cox, Bretty Kelly,
Lauren Graham, Lauren Tom, Bernie Mac. [Holidays]
Baheb el cima (I Love Cinema), 2004. Dir. Oussama Fawzi. Laila Eloui,
Mahmoud Hemida, Menna Shalabi. [Arab Film]
Baker’s Hawk, 1976. Dir. Lyman Dayton. Clint Walker, Burl Ives, Diane Baker,
Lee Montgomery, Alan Young. [Mormonism]
Bakushû (Early Summer), 1951. Dir. Yasujirō Ozu. Setsuko Hara, Chishu Ryu,
Chikage Awashima, Kuniko Miyake, Ichirô Sugai. [Japan; Ozu, Yasujirō]
Balthazar. See Au hasard Balthazar.
Bandit Queen. See Phoolan Devi.
Banshun (Late Spring), 1949. Dir. Yasujirō Ozu. Chishu Ryu, Setsuko Hara,
Yumeji Tsukioka, Haruko Sugimura, Hohi Aoki. [Ozu, Yasujirō]
478 | Appendix: Filmography

Baraka, 1992. Documentary. Dir. Ron Fricke. [Myth]

Barry Lyndon, 1975. Dir. Stanley Kubrick. Ryan O’Neal, Marisa Berenson,
Patrick Magee, Hardy Krüger, Steven Berkoff. [Kubrick, Stanley]
Barsoum Looking for a Job. See Barsum yabhath ‘an wathifah.
Barsum yabhath ‘an wathifah (Barsoum Looking for a Job), 1923. Dir.
Mohamed Bayoumi. Abd el Hamid Zaki, Beshara Wakim, Victor Cohen.
[Arab Film]
Barton Fink, 1991. Dir. Joel Coen. John Turturro, John Goodman, Judy Davis,
Michael Lerner, John Mahoney. [Coen, Joel and Ethan]
Bash: Latter-Day Plays, 2001. Television. Dir. Neil LaBute. Ron Eldard, Calista
Flockhart, Paul Rudd. [Mormonism]
Batman, 1989. Dir. Tim Burton. Michael Keaton, Jack Nicholson, Kim Basinger,
Robert Wuhl, Pat Hingle. [Superheroes]
Batman Begins, 2005. Dir. Christopher Nolan. Christian Bale, Michael Caine,
Liam Neeson, Katie Holmes, Gary Oldman. [Superheroes]
Batman Returns, 1992. Dir. Tim Burton. Michael Keaton, Danny DeVito,
Michelle Pfeiffer, Christopher Walken, Michael Gough. [Superheroes]
Battle at Elderbush Gulch, The, 1913. Dir. D. W. Griffith. Mae Marsh, Leslie
Loveridge, Alfred Paget, Robert Harron, Lillian Gish. [American Indian
Religion]
Battle Hymn, 1957. Dir. Douglas Sirk. Rock Hudson, Anna Kashfi, Dan Duryea,
Don DeFore, Martha Hyer. [Clergy]
Battle for the Planet of the Apes, 1973. Dir. J. Lee Thompson. Roddy McDowall,
Claude Akins, Natalie Trundy, Severn Darden, Lew Ayers. [End-of-the-
World Films]
Battleship Potemkin. See Bronenosets Potyomkin.
Becket, 1964. Dir. Peter Glenville. Richard Burton, Peter O’Toole, John Gielgud,
Gino Cervi, Paolo Stoppa. [Clergy; Film as Religion]
Bedazzled, 1967. Dir. Stanley Donen. Peter Cook, Dudley Moore, Eleanor Bron,
Raquel Welch, Alba. [Devil]
Befrielsesbilleder (Images of Relief), 1983. Dir. Lars von Trier. [Trier,
Lars von]
Believer, The, 2001. Dir. Henry Bean. Ryan Gosling, Summer Phoenix, Theresa
Russell, Billy Zane, A. D. Miles. [Holocaust, The]
Bell, Book and Candle, 1958. Dir. Richard Quine. James Stewart, Kim Novak,
Jack Lemmon, Ernie Kovacs, Hermione Gingold. [Magic]
Bells of St. Mary’s, The, 1945. Dir. Leo McCarey. Bing Crosby, Ingrid Bergman,
Henry Travers, William Gargan, Ruth Donnelly. [Catholicism; Clergy]
Belly of the Beast, 2003. Dir. Siu-Tung Ching. Steven Seagal, Byron Mann,
Monica Lo, Tom Wu, Sara Malakul Lane. [Buddhism]
 Appendix: Filmography | 479

Bend It Like Beckham, 2003. Dir. Gurinder Chadha. Parminder Nagra, Keira
Knightley, Jonathan Rhys Meyers. [Britain; Ritual]
Beneath the Planet of the Apes, 1970. Dir. Ted Post. James Franciscus, Kim
Hunter, Maurice Evans, Linda Harrison, Paul Richards. [End-of-the-World
Films]
Ben-Hur: A Tale of the Christ, 1925. Dir. Fred Niblo. Ramon Novarro, Francis X.
Bushman, May McAvoy, Betty Bronson, Claire McDowell. [Silent Film]
Ben-Hur, 1959. Dir. William Wyler. Charlton Heston, Jack Hawkins, Haya
Harareet, Stephen Boyd, Hugh Griffith. [Bible Films; Jesus; Ritual]
Best Intentions. See goda viljan, Den.
Beyond the Gates. See Shooting Dogs.
Bez konca (No End), 1985. Dir. Krzysztof Kieślowski. Grazyna Szapolowska,
Maria Pakulnis, Aleksander Bardini, Jerzy Radziwilowicz, Artur Barcis.
[Kieślowski, Krzysztof]
Bezhin lug (Bezhin Meadow), 1937. Dir. Sergei M. Eisenstein. Viktor Kartashov,
Nikolai Khmelyov, Pyotr Arzhanov, Yekaterina Teleshova, Nikolai Maslov.
[Russia]
Bezhin Meadow. See Bezhin lug.
Bicycle Thief, The. See Ladri di biciclette.
Bidone, Il (The Swindle), 1955. Dir. Federico Fellini. Broderick Crawford,
Giulietta Masina, Richard Basehart, Franco Fabrizi, Sue Ellen Blake. [Fellini,
Federico]
Big Blue, The. See Grand bleu, Le.
Big Chill, The, 1983. Dir. Lawrence Kasdan. Tom Berenger, Glenn Close, Jeff
Goldblum, William Hurt, Kevin Kline, Mary Kay Place, Meg Tilly, JoBeth
Williams. [Ritual]
Big Kahuna, The, 1999. Dir. John Swanbeck. Kevin Spacey, Danny DeVito,
Peter Facinelli, Paul Dawson. [Protestantism]
Big Lebowski, The, 1998. Dir. Joel Coen. Jeff Bridges, John Goodman,
Julianne Moore, Steve Buscemi, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Tara Reid, David
Huddleston. [Coen, Joel and Ethan; Myth]
Big Mama’s House, 2000. Dir. Raja Gosnell. Martin Lawrence, Nia Long, Paul
Giamatti, Jascha Washington, Terrence Howard. [Clergy]
Big Tip Off, The, 1955. Dir. Frank McDonald. Richard Conte, Constance Smith,
Bruce Bennett, Cathy Downs, James Millican. [Joan of Arc]
Bill & Ted’s Bogus Journey, 1991. Dir. Peter Hewitt. Keanu Reeves, Alex Winter,
William Sadler, Joss Ackland, Pam Grier. [Heaven]
Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure, 1989. Dir. Stephen Herek. Keanu Reeves,
Alex Winter, George Carlin, Terry Camilleri, Dan Shor, Tony Steedman,
Jane Wiedlin. [Joan of Arc; Ritual]
480 | Appendix: Filmography

Bill Bumper’s Bargain, 1911. Francis X. Bushman, Harry Cashman, Dolores

Cassinelli. [Devil]
Biography of Lilith, A, 1997. Documentary. Dir. Lynne Sachs. [Women]
Birth of a Nation, The, 1915. Dir. D. W. Griffith. Lillian Gish, Mae Marsh,
Henry B. Walthall, Miariam Cooper, Mary Alden. [Indigenous Religions;
Myth; Silent Film]
Biruma no tategoto (The Burmese Harp), 1956. Dir. Kon Ichikawa. Rentaro
Mikuni, Shôji, Jun Hamamura, Taketoshi Naitô, Kô Nishimura. [Japan]
Bishop’s Wife, The, 1947. Dir. Henry Koster. Carey Grant, Loretta Young,
David Niven, Monty Woolley, James Gleason. [Black Church, The; Clergy;
Protestantism; Ritual]
Bittere Ernte (Angry Harvest), 1986. Dir. Agnieszka Holland. Armin Mueller-
Stahl, Elizabeth Trissenaar, Wojciech Pszoniak, Gerd Baltus, Anita Höfer.
[Europe (Continental)]
Black Cauldron, The, 1985. Dir. Ted Berman, Richard Rich. Grant Bardsley,
Susan Sheridan, Freddie Jones, Nigel Hawthorne, Arthur Malet. [Mormonism]
Black Crook, The, 1916. Dir. Robert G. Vignola. Edward P. Sullivan, Gladys
Coburn, Roland Bottomley, Henry Hallam, Charles De Forrest. [Devil]
Black Fury, 1935. Dir. Michael Curtiz. Paul Muni, Karen Morley, William
Gargan, Barton MacLane, John Qualen. [Censorship in Hollywood]
Black Hawk Down, 2001. Dir. Ridley Scott. Josh Hartnett, Ewan McGregor,
Jason Isaacs, Tom Sizemore, William Fichtner. [Islam]
Black Magic Rites and the Secret Orgies of the Fourteenth Century. See Riti,
magie nere e segrete orge nel trecento.
Black Narcissus, 1947. Dir. Michael Powell, Emeric Pressburger. Deborah Kerr,
Flora Robson, Jean Simmons, David Farrar, Sabu. [Mysticism]
Black Rain. See Kuroi ame.
Black Robe, 1991. Dir. Bruce Beresford. Lothaire Bluteau, Aden Young,
Sandrine Holt, August Schellenberg, Tantoo Cardinal. [Australia;
Catholicism; Clergy]
Blacula, 1972. Dir. William Crain. William Marshall, Vonetta McGee, Denise
Nicholas, Thamus Rasulala, Gordon Pinsent. [Voodoo]
Blade: Trinity, 2004. Dir. David S. Goyer. Wesley Snipes, Kris Kristofferson,
Dominic Purcell, Jessica Biel, Ryan Reynolds. [Superheroes]
Blade af Satans bog (Leaves from Satan’s Book), 1921. Dir. Carl Theodor
Dreyer. Helge Nissen, Halvard Hoff, Jacob Texiere, Hallander Hellman, Ebon
Strandin. [Dreyer, Carl Theodor]
Blade Runner, 1982. Dir. Ridley Scott. Harrison Ford, Rutger Hauer, Sean
Young, Edward James Olmos, M. Emmet Walsh, Daryl Hannah. [Bible Films;
Posthumanism; Science Fiction]
 Appendix: Filmography | 481

Blaue Licht, Das (The Blue Light), 1932. Dir. Béla Balázs, Leni Riefenstahl.
Leni Riefenstahl, Mathias Wieman, Beni Führer, Max Holzboer, Martha Mair.
[Mysticism]
Blazing Saddles, 1974. Dir. Mel Brooks. Cleavon Little, Gene Wilder, Harvey
Corman, Mel Brooks, Slim Pickens, Alex Karras. [Brooks, Mel; Westerns]
Blind Chance. See Przypadek.
Blob, The, 1988. Dir. Chuck Russell. Kevin Dillon, Shawnee Smith, Donovan
Leitch, Jeffrey DeMunn, Candy Clark. [Clergy]
Blonde Venus, 1932. Dir. Josef von Sternberg. Marlene Dietrich, Herbert
Marshall, Carey Grant, Dickie Moore, Gene Morgan. [Censorship in
Hollywood]
Blood of Jesus, The, 1941. Dir. Spencer Williams. Cathryn Caviness, Spencer
Williams, Juanita Riley, Reather Hardeman, Rogenia Goldthwaite. [Clergy]
Blood on Satan’s Claw, 1971. Dir. Piers Haggard. Patrick Wymark, Linda
Hayden, Barry Andrews, Michele Dotrice, James Hayter. [Devil]
Blood Simple, 1984. Dir. Joel Coen. John Getz, Frances McDormand, Dan
Hedaya, M. Emmet Walsh, Samm-Art Williams. [Coen, Joel and Ethan]
Blot, The, 1921. Dir. Phillips Smalley, Lois Weber. Phillip Hubbard, Margaret
McWade, Claire Windsor, Louis Calhern, Marie Walcamp. [Silent Film]
Blue Blood, 1973. Dir. Andrew Sinclair. Oliver Reed, Fiona Lewis, Anna Gaël,
Derek Jacobi, Meg Wynn Owen. [Devil]
Blue Light, The. See Blaue Licht, Das.
Blues Brothers, The, 1980. Dir. John Landis. John Belushi, Dan Aykroyd, Carrie
Fisher, James Brown, Cab Calloway, Ray Charles, Aretha Franklin. [Black
Church, The]
Bom yeoreum gaeul gyeoul geurigo bom (Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter . . . and
Spring), 2003. Dir. Ki-duk Kim. Yeong-su Oh, Ki-duk Kim, Young-min Kim,
Jae-kyeong Seo, Yeo-jin Ha. [Ritual]
Body and Soul, 1925. Dir. Oscar Micheaux. Paul Robeson, Mercedes Gilbert,
Julia Theresa Russell, Lawrence Chenault, Marshall Rogers. [Clergy]
Bonnie and Clyde, 1967. Dir. Arthur Penn. Warren Beatty, Faye Dunaway,
Michael J. Pollard, Gene Hackman, Estelle Parsons, Gene Wilder.
[Westerns]
Boss of It All, The. See Direktøren for det hele.
bout de soufflé, Á (Breathless), 1960. Dir. Jean-Luc Godard. Jean-Paul
Belmondo, Jean Seberg, Daniel Boulanger, Jean-Pierre Melville, Henri-
Jacques Huet. [Truffaut, François]
Boxcar Bertha, 1972. Dir. Martin Scorsese. Barbara Hershey, David Carradine,
Barry Primus, Bernie Casey, John Carradine. [THE LAST TEMPTATION OF CHRIST
Controversy; Scorsese, Martin]
482 | Appendix: Filmography

Boys Town, 1938. Dir. Norman Taurog. Spencer Tracy, Mickey Rooney, Henry
Hull, Leslie Fenton, Gene Reynolds. [Catholicism; Clergy]
Bram Stoker’s Dracula, 1992. Dir. Francis Ford Coppola. Gary Oldman, Winona
Ryder, Anthony Hopkins, Keanu Reeves, Richard E. Grant. [Coppola, Francis
Ford; Vampires]
Brazil, 1985. Dir. Terry Gilliam. Jonathan Pryce, Robert De Niro, Katherine
Helmond, Ian Holm, Bob Hoskins. [Gilliam, Terry]
Breaking of the Drought, The, 1920. Dir. Franklyn Barrett. Charles Beetham,
Rawdon Blanford, Trilby Clark, John Faulkner, Ethel Henry. [Australia]
Breaking the Waves, 1996. Dir. Lars von Trier. Emily Watson, Stellan Skarsgård,
Katrin Cartlidge, Jean-Marc Barr, Adrian Rawlins. [Belief; Europe
(Continental); Mysticism; Trier, Lars von]
Breathless. See bout de soufflé, Á.
Brewster McCloud, 1970. Dir. Robert Altman. Bud Cort, Sally Kellerman,
Michael Murphy, William Windom, Shelley Duvall, Rene Auberjonois, Stacy
Keach, Margaret Hamilton. [Altman, Robert]
Bride and Prejudice, 2004. Dir. Gurinder Chadha. Aishwarya Rai, Martin
Henderson, Naddira Babbar, Anupam Kher, Naveen Andrews. [Hinduism;
Ritual]
Bride of Frankenstein, 1935. Dir. James Whale. Boris Karloff, Colin Clive,
Valerie Hobson, Ernest Thesiger, Elsa Lanchester. [Science Fiction]
Brides of Dracula, The, 1960. Dir. Terence Fisher. Peter Cushing, Martita Hunt,
Yvonne Monlaur, Freda Jackson, David Peel. [Vampires]
Brigadoon, 1954. Dir. Vincente Minnelli. Gene Kelly, Van Johnson, Cyd
Charisse, Elaine Stewart, Barry Jones. [Mysticism]
Brigham Young, 1940. Dir. Henry Hathaway. Tyrone Power, Linda Darnell, Dean
Jagger, Brian Donlevy, Jane Darwell, John Carradine, Mary Astor, Vincent
Price, Jean Rogers. [Mormonism; Westerns]
Brightness. See Yeelen.
Bringing Out the Dead, 1999. Dir. Martin Scorsese. Nicolas Cage, Patricia
Arquette, John Goodman, Ving Rhames, Tom Sizemore. [Schrader, Paul]
Broadway Danny Rose, 1984. Dir. Woody Allen. Woody Allen, Mia Farrow, Nick
Apollo Forte, Sandy Baron, Corbett Monica, Jackie Gayle. [Allen, Woody]
Brokeback Mountain, 2005. Dir. Ang Lee. Heath Ledger, Jake Gyllenhaal, Randy
Quaid, Valerie Planche, David Trimble. [Myth; Protestantism; Westerns]
Broken Arrow, 1950. Dir. Delmer Daves. James Stewart, Jeff Chandler, Debra
Paget, Basil Ruysdael, Will Geer. [American Indian Religion]
Broncho Billy’s Sentence, 1915. Dir. Gilbert M. “Broncho Billy” Anderson.
Gilbert M. “Broncho Billy” Anderson, True Boardman, Virginia True
Boardman, Ernest Van Pelt, Carl Stockdale. [Silent Film]
 Appendix: Filmography | 483

Bronenosets Potyomkin (Battleship Potemkin), 1925. Dir. Sergei M. Eisenstein.

Aleksandr Antonov, Vladimir Barsky, Grigori Aleksandrov, Ivan Bobrov,
Mikhail Gomorov. [Russia]
Brother Bear, 2003. Dir. Aaron Blaise, Robert Walker. Joaquin Phoenix, Jeremy
Suarez, Jason Raize, Rick Moranis, Dave Thomas, D. B. Sweeney. [Animated
Films]
The Brotherhood of Satan, 1971. Dir. Bernard McEveetey. Strother Martin,
L. Q. Jones, Charles Bateman, Ahna Capri, Charles Robinson. [Devil]
Brother Sun, Sister Moon. See Fratello sole, sorella luna.
Bruce Almighty, 2003. Dir. Tom Shadyac. Jim Carrey, Morgan Freeman, Jennifer
Anniston. [God]
Buck and the Preacher, 1972. Dir. Joseph Sargent, Sidney Poitier. Sidney Poitier,
Harry Belafonte, Ruby Dee, Cameron Mitchell, Denny Miller. [Clergy]
Buddha. See Shaka.
Buffy the Vampire Slayer, 1992. Dir. Fran Rubel Kuzui. Kristy Swanson, Donald
Sutherland, Paul Reubens, Rutger Hauer, Luke Perry. [Vampires]
Bugs Bunny’s 3rd Movie: 1001 Rabbit Tales, 1982. Dir. Friz Freleng. Mel
Blanc, Arthur Q. Bryan, June Foray, Shepard Menken, Lennie Weinrib.
[Islam]
Bull Durham, 1988. Dir. Ron Shelton. Kevin Costner, Susan Sarandon, Tim
Robbins, Trey Wilson, Robert Wuhl, William O’Leary. [Sports]
Il buono, il brutto, il cattivo (The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly), 1966.
Dir. Sergio Leone. Eli Wallach, Clint Eastwood, Lee Van Cleef, Aldo Giuffrè,
Luigi Pistilli. [Leone, Sergio]
Burmese Harp, The. See Biruma no tategoto.
Burn Witch Burn. See Hexen bis aufs Blut gequält.
Burning Hell, The, 1974. Documentary. Dir. Ron Ormond. Estus W. Pirkle,
Tim Ormond, Chuck Howard, Jack Hyles, Bob Gray. [Missionary Films]
Burning of Joan of Arc The. See Joan of Arc, 1895.
Burning Times, The, 1990. Documentary. Dir. Donna Read. Martha Henry,
Starhawk. [Women]
Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee, 2007. Dir. Yves Simoneau. Anna Paquin,
Chevez Ezaneh, August Schellenberg, Duane Howard, Aidan Quinn.
[American Indian Religion]
Business of Fancydancing, The, 2002. Dir. Sherman Alexie. Evan Adams,
Michelle St. John, Gene Tagaban, Swil Kanim, Rebecca Carroll. [American
Indian Religion]
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, 1969. Dir. George Roy Hill. Paul Newman,
Robert Redford, Katharine Ross, Strother Martin, Cloris Leachman, Ted
Cassidy, Kenneth Mars. [Westerns]
484 | Appendix: Filmography

—C—
Cabeza de Vaca, 1991. Dir. Nicolás Echevarria. Juan Diego, Daniel Giménez
Cacho, Roberto Sosa, Carlos Castañón, Gerardo Villarreal. [Ritual]
Cabin in the Sky, 1943. Dir. Vincente Minnelli, Busby Berkeley. Ethel Waters,
Eddie Anderson, Lena Horne, Louis Armstrong, Rex Ingram. [Devil]
Cabinet de Méphistophélès, Le (The Cabinet of Mephistopheles), 1896.
Dir. Georges Méliès. [Devil]
Cabinet of Mephistopheles, The. See Cabinet de Méphistophélès, Le.
Cairo as Told by Youssef Chahine. See al-Qahira munawwara bi ahliha.
Cairo Station. See Bab el hadid.
California Split, 1974. Dir. Robert Altman. George Segal, Elliott Gould,
Ann Prentiss, Gwen Welles, Edward Walsh, Jeff Goldblum. [Altman, Robert]
Callahans and the Murphys, The, 1927. Dir. George W. Hill. Marie Dressler,
Polly Moran, Sally O’Neil, Lawrence Gray, Eddie Gribbon. [Catholicism;
Silent Film]
Camelot, 1967. Dir. Joshua Logan. Richard Harris, Vanessa Redgrave, Franco
Nero, David Hemmings, Lionel Jeffries. [Magic]
Cannibals of the South Seas, 1912. Documentary. Dir. Martin E. Johnson,
Osa Johnson. [Indigenous Religions]
Canterbury Tales, The. See Racconti di Canterbury.
Cape Fear, 1962. Dir. J. Lee Thompson. Gregory Peck, Robert Mitchum, Polly
Bergen, Lori Martin, Martin Balsam. [Scorsese, Martin]
Cape Fear, 1991. Dir. Martin Scorsese. Robert De Niro, Nick Nolte, Jessica
Lange, Juliette Lewis, Joe Don Baker, Robert Mitchum, Gregory Peck,
Martin Balsam, Illeana Douglas, Fred Dalton Thompson. [Scorsese, Martin]
Captain Kronos—Vampire Hunter, 1974. Dir. Brian Clemens. Horst Janson,
John Carson, Shane Briant, Caroline Munro, John Cater. [Vampires]
Car Wash, 1976. Dir. Michael Schultz. Franklyn Ajaye, Sully Boyar, Richard
Brestoff, George Carlin, Irwin Corey. [Clergy]
Cardinal, The, 1963. Dir. Otto Preminger. Tom Tryon, Carol Lynley, Dorothy
Gish, Maggie McNamara, Bill Hayes. [Clergy]
Cargo 200. See Gruz 200.
Casino, 1995. Dir. Martin Scorsese. Robert De Niro, Sharon Stone, Joe Pesci,
James Woods, Frank Vincent. [Scorsese, Martin]
Castle in the Sky. See Tenku no Shiro Rapyuta.
Casualties of War, 1989. Dir. Brian De Palma. Michael J. Fox, Sean Penn,
Don Harvey, John C. Reilly, John Leguizamo, Ving Rhames. [Protestantism]
Cat Ballou, 1965. Dir. Elliot Silverstein. Jane Fonda, Lee Marvin, Michael
Callan, Dwayne Hickman, Nat “King” Cole, Stubby Kaye. [Westerns]
 Appendix: Filmography | 485

Catwoman, 2004. Dir. Pitof (Jean-Christophe Comar). Halle Berry, Benjamin

Bratt, Sharon Stone, Lambert Wilson, Frances Conroy. [Superheroes]
Ceddo (Outsiders), 1977. Dir. Sembene Ousmane. Tabata Ndiaye, Moustapha
Yade, Ismaila Diagne, Matoura Dia, Omar Gueye. [Africa]
Celebration, The. See Festen.
Celebrity, 1998. Dir. Woody Allen. Greg Mottola, Jeff Mazzola, Dick Mingalone,
Valdimir Bibic, Melanie Griffith. [Allen, Woody]
C’era una volta il West (Once Upon a Time in the West), 1968. Dir. Sergio Leone.
Henry Fonda, Claudia Cardinale, Jason Robards, Charles Bronson, Gabriele
Ferzetti. [Leone, Sergio]
C’est arrivé pres de chez vous (Man Bites Dog), 1992. Dir. Rémy Belvaux.
Benoît Poelvoorde, Jacqueline Poelvoorde-Pappaert, Nelly Pappaert, Hector
Pappaert, Jenny Drye. [Myth]
Cet obscur objet du desir (That Obscure Object of Desire), 1977. Dir. Luis
Buñuel. Fernando Rey, Carole Bouquet, Angela Molina, Julien Bertheau,
Andre Weber. [Buñuel, Luis]
Chain of Command, 1994. Dir. David Worth. Michael Dudikoff, Todd Curtis,
Keren Tishman, R. Lee Ermey, Steve Greenstein. [Islam]
Chandni (Moonlight), 1989. Dir. Yash Chopra. Vinod Khanna, Rishi Kapoor,
Sridevi, Waheeda Rehman, Sushma Seth. [Bollywood]
Change of Habit, 1969. Dir. William A. Graham. Elvis Presley, Mary Tyler
Moore, Barbara McNair, Jane Elliot, Leora Dana. [Catholicism; Clergy]
Changing Lanes, 2002. Dir. Roger Michell. Ben Affleck, Samuel L. Jackson,
Kim Staunton, Toni Collette, Sydney Pollack. [Tolkin, Michael]
Chant of Jimmie Blacksmith, The, 1978. Dir. Fred Schepisi. Tommy Lewis, Freddy
Reynolds, Ray Barrett, Jack Thompson, Angela Punch McGregor. [Australia]
Chariots of Fire, 1981. Dir. Hugh Hudson. Nicolas Farrell, Nigel Havers,
Ian Charleson, Ben Cross, Daniel Geroll, Ian Holm. [Britain; Clergy;
Protestantism; Sports]
Charme discret de la bourgeoisie, Le (The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie),
1972. Dir. Luis Buñuel. Fernando Rey, Paul Frankeur, Delphanie Seyrig, Bulle
Ogier, Stéphane Audran. [Buñuel, Luis]
Charrette fantôme, La (The Phantom Wagon), 1939. Dir. Julien Duvivier. Pierre
Fresnay, Marie Bell, Micheline Francey, Louis Jouvet, Jean Mercanton.
[Mysticism]
Chasing Amy, 1997. Dir. Kevin Smith. Ethan Suplee, Ben Affleck, Scott Mosier,
Jason Lee, Casey Affleck. [Smith, Kevin]
Chichi ariki (There Was a Father), 1942. Dir. Yasujirō Ozu. Chishu Ryu, Shûji
Sano, Shin Saburi, Takeshi Sakamoto, Mitsuko Mito. [Ozu, Yasujirō]
486 | Appendix: Filmography

chien andalou, Un (An Andalusian Dog), 1929. Dir. Luis Buñuel. Simone
Mareuil, Pierre Batcheff. [Buñuel, Luis]
Children of the Corn, 1984. Dir. Fritz Kiersch. Peter Horton, Linda Hamilton,
R.G. Armstrong, John Franklin, Coutney Gains. [Clergy]
Children of Heaven. See Bacheha—Ye aseman.
Children Shouldn’t Play with Dead Things, 1972. Dir. Bob Clark. Alan Ormsby,
Valerie Mamches, Jeff Gillen, Anya Ormsby, Paul Cronin. [Devil]
Chocolat, 2000. Dir. Lasse Hallström. Alfred Molina, Carrie-Anne Moss,
Aurelien Parent Koenig, Antonio Gil-Martinez, Hélène Cardona. [Clergy;
Europe (Continental)]
Chôjin densetsu Urotsukidôji (The Legend of the Overfiend), 1989. Dir. Hideki
Takayama. Bick Balse, Christopher Courage, Rebel Joy, Yasunori Matsumoto,
Lucy Morales. [Japan]
Chosen, The, 1981. Dir. Jeremy Kagan. Maximillian Schell, Rod Stieger, Robby
Benson, Barry Miller, Hildy Brooks. [Clergy; Ritual; Sports]
Christian, The, 1911. Dir. Franklyn Barrett. Bert Bailey, Rutland Beckett, Lily
Bryer, Max Clifton, Marie D’Alton. [Australia]
Christmas Carol, A, 1908. Writer, Charles Dickens. Tom Ricketts. [Holidays]
Christmas Story, A,1983. Dir. Bob Clark. Melinda Dillon, Darren McGavin,
Peter Billingsley, Ian Petrella, Scott Schwartz. [Devil]
Chronicle of the May Rain, A. See Samidare zoshi.
Chronicles of Narnia, The: The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe, 2005.
Dir. Andrew Adamson. Georgie Henley, Skandar Keynes, William
Moseley, Anna Popplewell, Tilda Swinton, James McAvoy. [Bible Films;
Eucatastrophe]
Chronos. See Cronos.
Chudotvornaya (The Miracle Worker), 1960. Dir. Vladimir Skujbin. Viktor
Avdyushko, Stanislav Chekan, Yelena Maksimova, Pyotr Savin. [Russia]
Church and the Woman, The, 1917. Dir. Raymond Longford. George K.
Chesterton Bonar, Nada Conrade, Boyd Irwin, Lottie Lyell, Pat McGrath.
[Australia]
Cidade de Deus (City of God ), 2002. Dir. Fernando Meirelles, Kátia Lund.
Alexandar Rodrigues, Leandro Firmino, Phellipe Haagensen, Douglas Silva,
Johnathan Haagensen. [Belief; Latin America]
Cinema Paradiso. See Nuovo cinema Paradiso.
Circus, The, 1928. Dir. Charles Chaplin. Al Ernest Garcia, Merna Kennedy,
Harry Crocker, George Davis, Henry Bergman. [Silent Film]
City of Angels, 1998. Dir. Brad Silberling. Nicolas Cage, Meg Ryan, Andre
Braugher, Dennis Franz, Colm Feore. [Angels; Europe (Continental)]
City of God. See Cidade de Deus.
 Appendix: Filmography | 487

Clancy’s Kosher Wedding, 1927. Dir. Arvid E. Gillstrom. George Sidney,

Will Armstrong, Ann Brody, Mary Gordon, Sharon Lynn. [Silent Film]
Clash of the Titans, 1981. Dir. Desmond Davis. Laurence Olivier, Clare Bloom,
Maggie Smith, Ursula Andress, Jack Gwillim. [Greek and Roman Myths]
Cleopatra, 1963. Dir. Joseph L. Mankiewicz. Elizabeth Taylor, Richard Burton,
Rex Harrison, Pamela Brown, George Cole. [Greek and Roman Myths]
Clerks., 1994. Dir. Kevin Smith. Brian O’Halloran, Jeff Anderson, Marilyn
Ghigliotti, Lisa Spoonhauer, Jason Mewes, Kevin Smith. [Smith, Kevin]
Clerks II, 2006. Dir. Kevin Smith. Brian O’Halloran, Jeff Anderson, Jason
Mewes, Kevin Smith, Jake Richardson, Ethan Suplee. [Smith, Kevin]
Clockwork Orange, A, 1971. Dir. Stanley Kubrick. Malcolm McDowell, Patrick
Magee, Michael Bates, Warren Clarke, John Clive. [Kubrick, Stanley]
Close Encounters of the Third Kind, 1977. Dir. Steven Spielberg. Richard
Dreyfuss, François Truffaut, Teri Garr, Melinda Dillon, Bob Balaban. [Science
Fiction]
Closed Doors. See al-Abwab al-moghlaka.
Clouds over Borsk. See Tuchi nad Borskom.
Cohens and the Kellys, The, 1926. Dir. Harry A. Pollard. Charles Murray, George
Sidney, Vera Gordon, Kate Price, Jason Robards, Sr. [Silent Film]
Cold Mountain, 2003. Dir. Anthony Minghella. Jude Law, Nicole Kidman, Renée
Zellweger, Eileen Atkins, Brendan Gleeson. [Ritual]
Cold Turkey, 1971. Dir. Norman Lear. Dick Van Dyke, Pippa Scott, Tom Poston,
Edward Everett Horton, Bob Elliott, Ray Goulding, Vincent Gardenia.
[Clergy]
Collateral, 2004. Dir. Michael Mann. Tom Cruise, Jamie Foxx, Jada Pinkett
Smith, Mark Ruffalo, Peter Berg. [Myth]
Color of Money, The, 1986. Dir. Martin Scorsese. Paul Newman, Tom Cruise,
Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio, Helen Shaver, John Turturro. [Scorsese,
Martin]
Color Purple, The, 1985. Dir. Steven Spielberg. Danny Glover, Whoopi
Goldberg, Margaret Avery, Oprah Winfrey, Willard E. Pugh. [Black
Church, The]
Colossus: The Forbin Project, 1970. Dir. Joseph Sargent. Eric Braeden, Susan
Clark, Gordon Pinsent, William Schallert, Leonid Rostoff. [End-of-the-
World Films]
Come Back to the Five and Dime, Jimmy Dean, Jimmy Dean, 1982. Dir. Robert
Altman. Sandy Dennis, Cher, Karen Black, Sudie Bond, Kathy Bates.
[Altman, Robert]
Come to the Stable, 1949. Henry Koster. Loretta Young, Celeste Holm, Hugh
Marlowe, Elsa Lanchester, Thomas Gomez. [Catholicism]
488 | Appendix: Filmography

condamné à mort s’est échappé, Un, ou Le vent soufflé où il veut (A Man

Escaped, or The Wind Bloweth Where it Listeth), 1956. Dir. Robert Bresson.
François Leterrier, Charles Le Clainche, Maurice Beerblock, Roland Monod,
Jacques Ertaud. [Bresson, Robert; Europe (Continental)]
Confession, The, 1920. Dir. Bertram Bracken. Henry B. Walthall, Francis
McDonald, William Clifford, Margaret McWade, Margaret Landis. [Clergy]
Confidentially Yours. See Vivement dimanche!
Conquest of the Planet of the Apes, 1972. Dir. J. Lee Thompson. Roddy
McDowall, Don Murray, Natalie Trundy, Hari Rhodes, Severn Darden,
Ricardo Montalban. [End-of-the-World Films]
Conqueror Worm, The. See Witchfinder General.
Conspiracy of Terror, 1975. Television. Dir. John Llewellyn Moxey. Michael
Constantine, Barbara Rhoades. [Devil]
Constantine, 2005. Dir. Francis Lawrence. Keanu Reeves, Rachel Weisz, Shia
LaBeouf, Djimon Hounsou, Max Baker. [Clergy; Superheroes]
Contact, 1997. Dir. Robert Zemeckis. Jena Malone, David Morse, Jodie Foster,
Geoffrey Blake, William Fichtner. [Science Fiction]
Conversation, The, 1974. Dir. Francis Ford Coppola. Gene Hackman, John
Cazale, Allen Garfield, Frederic Forrest, Cindy Williams, Michael Higgins,
Elizabeth MacRae, Teri Garr, Harrison Ford. [Coppola, Francis Ford]
Conversations across the Bosphorus, 1995. Documentary. Dir. Jeanne Finley.
[Women]
Convert, The, 1911. Dir. Thomas H. Ince. Mary Pickford, Owen Moore. [Silent
Film]
Corner in Wheat, A, 1909. Dir. D. W. Griffith. Frank Powell, Grace Henderson,
James Kirkwood, Linda Arvidson, W. Chystie Miller. [Silent Film]
Courier Sud (Southern Carrier), 1937. Dir. Pierre Billon. Pierre Richard-Willm,
Jany Holt, Raymond Aimos, Alexandre Rignault, Roger Legris. [Bresson,
Robert]
Cours toujours (Dad on the Run), 2000. Dir. Dante Desarthe. Clément Sibony,
Rona Hartner, Isaac Sharry, Marie Desgranges, Emmanuelle Devos. [Ritual]
Craft, The, 1996. Dir. Andrew Fleming. Robin Tunney, Fairuza Balk, Neve
Campbell, Rachel True, Skeet Ulrich, Christine Taylor, Breckin Meyer.
[Magic]
Creature with the Atom Brain, 1955. Dir. Edward L. Cahn. Richard Denning,
Angela Stevens, S. John Launer, Michael Granger, Gregory Gaye. [Voodoo]
Crime of Father Amaro, The. See El Crimen del padre Amaro.
Crimen del padre Amaro, El (The Crime of Father Amaro), 2002. Dir. Carlos
Carrera. Gael García Bernal, Ana Claudia Talancón, Sancho Gracia, Angélica
Aragón, Luisa Huertas. [Clergy; Latin America]
 Appendix: Filmography | 489

Crimes and Misdemeanors, 1989. Dir. Woody Allen. Bill Bernstein, Martin
Landau, Claire Bloom, Woody Allen, Stephanie Roth Haberle, Gregg
Edelman. [Allen, Woody; Belief]
Crimes of Passion, 1984. Dir. Ken Russell. Kathleen Turner, Bruce Davidson,
Gordon Hunt, Dan Gerrity, Anthony Perkins. [Clergy]
Critic, The, 1963. Dir. Ernest Pintoff. Mel Brooks. [Brooks, Mel]
Crocodile Dundee, 1986. Dir. Peter Faiman. Paul Hogan, Linda Kozlowski, John
Meillon, David Gulpilil. [Indigenous Religions]
Cronos (Chronos), 1993. Dir. Guillermo del Toro. Federico Luppi, Ron Perlman,
Claudio Brook, Margarita Isabel, Tamara Shanath. [Vampires]
Cross Inscribed in the Star of David, The. See Wpisany w gwiazde Davida.
Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. See Wo Hu Cang Long.
Crucible, The, 1957. See Sorcières de Salem, Les.
Crucible, The, 1996. Dir. Nicholas Hytner. Daniel Day-Lewis, Winona Ryder,
Paul Scofield, Joan Allen, Bruce Davison. [Magic]
Cruise into Terror, 1978. Television. Dir. Bruce Kessler. Dirk Benedict, Frank
Converse, John Forsythe, Christopher George, Lynda Day George. [Devil]
Cry in the Dark, A. See Evil Angels.
Cry, the Beloved Country, 1952. Dir. Zoltan Korda. Canada Lee, Charles Carson,
Sidney Poitier, Joyce Carey, Geoffrey Keen. [Clergy]
Cry, the Beloved Country, 1995. Dir. Darrell Roodt. James Earl Jones,
Tsholofelo Wechoemang, Richard Harris, Charles Dutton, Dolly Rathebe.
[Clergy]
Cup, The. See Phörpa.
Cybercity. See Shepherd, The.
Cyborg, 1989. Dir. Albert Pyun. Jean-Claude Van Damme, Deborah Richter,
Vincent Klyn, Alex Daniels. [Posthumanism]
Cypher, 2002. Dir. Vincenzo Natali. Jeremy Northam, Lucy Liu, Nigel Bennett,
Timothy Webber, David Hewlett. [Posthumanism]

—D—
Da hong deng long gao gao gua (Raise the Red Lantern), 1991. Dir. Yimou
Zhang. Li Gong, Caifei He, Cuifen Cao, Jingwu Ma, Qi Zhao. [China]
Dad on the Run. See Cours toujours.
Dames du Bois de Boulogne, The (Ladies of the Bois de Bologne), 1945.
Dir. Robert Bresson. Paul Bernard, María Casares, Elina Labourdette,
Lucienne Bogaert, Jean Marchat. [Bresson, Robert]
Damien: Omen II, 1978. Dir. Don Taylor. William Holden, Lee Grant, Jonathan
Scott-Taylor, Robert Foxworth, Nicholas Pryor. [Clergy; End-of-the-World
Films]
490 | Appendix: Filmography

Dancer in the Dark, 2000. Dir. Lars von Trier. Björk, Catherine Deneuve, David
Morse, Peter Stormare, Joel Grey. [Trier, Lars von]
Dances With Wolves, 1990. Dir. Kevin Costner. Kevin Costner, Mary McDonnell,
Graham Greene, Rodney Grant, Floyd “Red Crow” Westerman, Robert
Pastorelli, Maury Chaykin. [American Indian Religions; Ritual]
Daratt (Dry Season), 2006. Dir. Mahamat-Saleh Haroun. Ali Barkai, Youssouf
Djaoro, Aziza Hisseine, Khayar Oumar Defallah, Djibril Ibrahim. [Africa]
Daredevil, 2003. Dir. Mark Steven Johnson. Ben Affleck, Jennifer Garner,
Colin Farrell, Michael Clarke Duncan, John Favreau. [Posthumanism;
Superheroes]
Dark City, 1998. Dir. Alex Proyas. Rufus Sewell, William Hurt, Kiefer
Sutherland, Jennifer Connelly, Richard O’Brian. [Science Fiction]
Dark Habits. See Entre tinieblas.
Dark Secret of Harvest Home, The, 1978. Television. Dir. Leo Penn. Bette Davis,
David Ackroyd, Rosanna Arquette, Rene Auberjonois, John Calvin. [Devil]
Daughters of Destiny. See Destinées.
Daughters of the Dust, 1991. Dir. Julie Dash. Cora Lee Day, Alva Rogers,
Barbarao, Trula Hoosier, Umar Abdurrahamn. [Women]
Daughters of Satan, 1972. Dir. Hollingsworth Morse. Tom Selleck, Barra Grant,
Tani Guthrie, Paraluman, Vic Silayan. [Devil]
David and Bathsheba, 1951. Dir. Henry King. Gregory Peck, Susan Hayward,
Raymond Massey, Kieron Moore. [Bible Films]
Dawn of the Dead, 1978. Dir. George A. Romero. David Emge, Ken Foree,
Scott H. Reingiger, Gaylen Ross, David Crawford. [Voodoo]
Dawn of the Dead, 2004. Dir. Zack Snyder. Sarah Polley, Ving Rhames, Jake
Weber, Mekhi Phifer, Ty Burrell. [Voodoo]
Day for Night. See Nuit américaine, La.
Day I Became a Woman, The. See Roozi ke zan shodam.
Day in the Country, A. See Partie de campange.
Day of the Dead, 1985. Dir. George A. Romero. Lori Cardille, Terry Alexander,
Joseph Pilato, Jarlath Conroy, Anthony Dileo, Jr. [Voodoo]
Day of Wrath. See Vredens Dag.
Day the Earth Stood Still, The, 1951. Dir. Robert Wise. Michael Rennie, Patricia
Neal, Hugh Marlowe, Sam Jaffe, Billy Gray. [End-of-the-World Films;
Science Fiction]
Dead Man Walking, 1995. Dir. Tim Robbins. Susan Sarandon, Sean Penn, Robert
Prosky, Raymond J. Barry, R. Lee Ermey. [Clergy]
Dear Wendy, 2005. Dir. Thomas Vinterberg. Jamie Bell, Bill Pullman, Michael
Angarano, Danso Gordon, Novella Nelson. [Trier, Lars von]
Death and the Maiden. See Fährmann Maria.
 Appendix: Filmography | 491

Death of a Princess, 1980. Dir. Antony Thomas. Suzanne Abou Taleb, Paul
Freeman, Just Parfitt, Samir Sabri, Ismet Raafat. [Islam]
Death Takes a Holiday, 1934. Dir. Mitchell Leisen. Fredric March, Evelyn
Venable, Guy Standing, Katherine Alexandar, Gail Patrick. [Mysticism]
Decameron, The. See Decameron, Il.
Decameron, Il (The Decameron), 1971. Dir. Pier Paolo Pasolini. Franco Citti,
Ninetto Davoli, Jovan Jovanovic, Vincenzo Amato, Angela Luce. [Europe
(Continental)]
Deconstructing Harry, 1997. Dir. Woody Allen. Woody Allen, Richard
Benjamin, Kristie Alley, Billy Crystal, Judy Davis, Bob Balaban. [Allen,
Woody]
Deep Cover, 1992. Dir. Bill Duke. Laurence Fishburne, Jeff Goldblum, Victoria
Dillard, Charles Martin Smith, Sydney Lassick. [Tolkin, Michael]
Deep Impact, 1998. Dir. Mimi Leder. Robert Duvall, Téa Leoni, Elijah Wood,
Vanessa Redgrave, Morgan Freeman. [Tolkin, Michael]
Defending Your Life, 1991. Dir. Albert Brooks. Albert Brooks, Michael Durrell,
Meryl Streep, James Eckhouse, Gary Beach. [Mysticism]
Dekalog, 1989. Television. Dir. Krzysztof Kieślowski. Artur Barcis, Henryk
Baranowski, Olaf Lubaszenko, Piotr Machalica, Jan Tesarz. [Europe
(Continental); Kieślowski, Krzysztof]
Delta Force, The, 1986. Dir. Menahem Golan. Chuck Norris, Lee Marvin, Martin
Balsam, Joey Bishop, Robert Forester. [Islam]
Dementia 13, 1963. Dir. Francis Ford Coppola. William Campbell, Luana
Anders, Bart Patton, Mary Mitchel, Patrick Magee. [Coppola, Francis Ford]
Demon Seed, 1977. Dir. Donald Cammell. Julie Christie, Fritz Weaver, Gerrit
Graham, Berry Kroeger, Lisa Lu. [End-of-the-World Films]
Den goda viljan (Best Intentions), 1992. Dir. Bille August. Samuel Fröler,
Pernilla August, Max von Sydow, Ghita Nørby, Björn Kjellman. [Europe
(Continental)]
Departed, The, 2006. Dir. Martin Scorsese. Leonardo DiCaprio, Matt Damon,
Jack Nicholson, Mark Wahlberg, Martin Sheen. [Scorsese, Martin]
Departure of a Grand Old Man. See Ukhod velikovo startza.
Le dernier metro (The Last Metro), 1980. Dir. François Truffaut. Catherine
Deneuve, Gérard Depardieu, Jean Poiret, Andrea Ferréol, Paulette Dubost.
[Europe (Continental)]
Descent of Ganga, The. See Gangavataran.
Destinées (Daughters of Destiny), 1954. Dir. Christian-Jaque (“Lysistrata”), Jean
Delannoy (“Jeanne”), Marcello Pagliero (“Elisabeth”). Claudette Colbert,
Michèle Morgan, Martine Carol. [Joan of Arc]
Destiny. See al-Masir.
492 | Appendix: Filmography

Detective, The. See Father Brown.

Devi (The Goddess), 1960. Dir. Satyajit Ray. Chhabi Biswas, Soumitra
Chatterjee, Sharmila Tagore, Purnendu Mukherjee, Karuna Bannerjee.
[Hinduism]
Devil and Daniel Webster, The, 1941. Dir. William Dieterle. Edward Arnold,
Walter Huston, Jane Darwell, Simone Simon, Gene Lockhart. [Devil]
Devil and the Statue, The. See Diable géant, Le, ou Miracle de la madonne, Le.
Devil at 4 O’Clock, 1961. Dir. Mervyn LeRoy. Spencer Tracy, Frank Sinatra,
Kerwin Mathews, Jean-Pierre Aumont, Grégoire Aslan. [Clergy]
Devil Dog: The Hound of Hell, 1978. Television. Dir. Curtis Harrington. Richard
Crenna, Yvette Mimieux, Kim Richards, Ike Eisenmann, Victor Jory. [Devil]
Devil Probably, The. See Diable Probablement, Le.
Devil Rides Out, The (also known as The Devil’s Bride), 1968. Dir. Terence
Fisher. Christopher Lee, Charles Gray, Nike Arrighi, Leon Greene, Patrick
Mower. [Devil]
Devil Wears Prada, The, 2006. Dir. David Frankel. Meryl Streep, Anne
Hathaway, Emily Blunt, Stanley Tucci, Simon Baker. [Ritual]
Devil’s Advocate, The, 1997. Dir. Taylor Hackford. Keanu Reeves, Al Pacino,
Charlize Theron, Jeffrey Jones, Judith Ivey. [Mysticism]
Devil’s Bride, The. See Devil Rides Out, The.
Devil’s Daughter, The, 1973. Television. Dir. Jeannot Szwarc. Shelley Winters,
Belinda Montgomery, Robert Foxworth, Jonathan Frid, Martha Scott. [Devil]
Devil’s Daughter, The, 1939. Dir. Arthur H. Leonard. Nina Mae McKinney, Jack
Carter, Ida James, Hamtree Harrington, Willa Mar Lang. [Voodoo]
Devil’s Hand, The, 1962. Dir. William J. Hole, Jr. Linda Christian, Robert Alda,
Ariadna Welter, Neil Hamilton, Gene Craft. [Devil]
Devil’s Men, The, (also known as Land of the Minotaur), 1976. Dir. Kostas
Karagiannis. Donald Pleasence, Peter Cushing, Luan Peters, Nikos Verlekis,
Kostas Karagiorgis. [Devil]
Devil’s Partner, The, 1962. Dir. Charles Rondeau. Edgar Buchanan, Jean Allison,
Richard Crane, Spencer Carlisle, Byron Foulger. [Devil]
Devil’s Rain, The, 1975. Dir. Robert Fuest. Ernest Borgnine, Tom Skerritt, Joan
Prather, Eddie Albert, William Shatner, Ida Lupino, Keenan Wynn, John
Travolta. [Devil]
Al-Dhakira al-khisba (Fertile Memory), 1980. Dir. Michel Khleifi. Farah
Hatoum, Sahar Khalifeh. [Arab Film]
diable au convent, Le (The Sign of the Cross), 1899. Dir. George Méliès. George
Méliès. [Devil]
diable géant, Le, ou Le miracle de la madonne (The Devil and the Statue), 1902.
Dir. George Méliès. George Méliès. [Devil]
 Appendix: Filmography | 493

diable probablement, Le (The Devil Probably), 1977. Dir. Robert Bresson.

Antoine Monnier, Tina Irissari, Henri de Maublanc, Laetitia Carcano, Nicolas
Deguy. [Bresson, Robert]
Diary of a Country Priest. See Journal d’un curé de campange.
Diary of a Mad Black Woman, 2005. Dir. Darren Grant. Kimberly Elise, Steve
Harris, Shemar Moore, Tamara Taylor, Lisa Marcos, Tiffany Evans. [Black
Church, The; Clergy]
Diary of Anne Frank, The, 1959. Dir. George Stevens. Millie Perkins, Joseph
Schildkraut, Shelley Winters, Richard Beymer, Gusti Huber. [Holocaust, The]
Dibuk, Der (The Dybbuk), 1937. Dir. Michal Waszynski. Avrom Morevski, Isaac
Samberg, Moyshe Lipman, Lili Liliana, Leon Liebgold. [Judaism]
Et Dieu . . . créa la femme (. . . And God Created Woman), 1956. Dir. Roger Vadim.
Brigitte Bardot, Curd Jürgens, Jean-Louis Trintignant, Jane Marken, Jean
Tissier. [Women]
Direktøren for det hele (The Boss of It All), 2006. Dir. Lars von Trier. Jenus
Albinus, Peter Gantzler, Fridrik Thor Fridriksson, Benedikt Erlingsson, Iben
Hjejle. [Trier, Lars von]
Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie, The. See charme discret de la bourgeoisie, Le.
Distant Thunder, A, 1978. Dir. Donald W. Thompson. Patty Dunning, Sally
Johnson, Sandy Christen, Thom Rachford, Maryann Rachford, Russell S.
Doughten, Jr. [End-of-the-World Films]
Divine Intervention. See Yaddun ilahiya.
Al-Djanna al’an (Paradise Now), 2005. Dir. Hany Abu-Assad. Lubna Azabal,
Hamza Abu-Aiaash, Kais Nashif, Lotuf Neusser, Ali Suliman. [Arab Film]
Doctor Dolittle, 1967. Dir. Richard Fleischer. Rex Harrison, Samantha Eggar,
Anthony Newley, Richard Attenborough, Peter Bull, Geoffrey Holder. [Myth]
Doctor Dolittle, 1998. Dir. Betty Thomas. Eddie Murphy, Ossie Davis, Oliver
Platt, Peter Boyle, Richard Schiff, Kristen Wilson, Jeffrey Tambor. [Myth]
Doe Boy, The, 2001. Dir. Randy Redroad. Kevin Anderson, Robert Guthrie,
Nathaniel Arcand, Jeri Arredondo, Gil Birmingham. [American Indian
Religion]
Dogma, 1999. Dir. Kevin Smith. Ben Affleck, Matt Damon, Linda Fiorentino,
Jason Mewes, Chris Rock, Alan Rickman, Jason Lee, Salma Hayek, Kevin
Smith, Janeane Garofalo. [Angels; Catholicism; Clergy; God; Smith, Kevin]
Dogville, 2003. Dir. Lars von Trier. Nicole Kidman, Harriet Andersson, Lauren
Bacall, Jean-Marc Barr, Paul Bettany, James Caan, Patricia Clarkson, Ben
Gazzara, John Hurt. [Trier, Lars von]
dolce vita, La (The Sweet Life), 1960. Dir. Federico Fellini. Marcello
Mastroianni, Anita Ekberg, Anouk Amée, Yvonne Furneaux, Magali Noël.
[Fellini, Federico]
494 | Appendix: Filmography

Dominion: Prequel to the Exorcist, 2005. Dir. Paul Schrader. Stellan Skarsgård,
Gabriel Mann, Clara Bellar, Billy Crawford, Ralph Brown. [Schrader, Paul]
donna del fiume, La (The River Girl), 1955. Dir. Mario Soldati. Sophia Loren,
Gérard Oury, Lise Bourdin, Rik Battaglia, Enrico Olivieri. [Pasolini, Pier
Paolo]
Donnie Darko, 2001. Dir. Richard Kelly. Jake Gyllenhaal, Holmes Osborne,
Maggie Gyllenhaal, Daveigh Chase, Mary McDonnell. [End-of-the-World
Films; Mysticism; Myth]
Don’t. See Meschugge.
Donzoko (The Lower Depths), 1957. Dir. Akira Kurosawa. Toshirô Mifune, Isuzu
Yamada, Kyôko Kagawa, Ganjiro Nakamura, Minoru Chiaki. [Kurosawa,
Akira]
Door to the Sky, A. See Bab al-sama maftuh.
Double vie de Véronique, La (The Double Life of Véronique), 1991.
Dir. Krzysztof Kieślowski. Irène Jacob, Halina Gryglaszewska, Kalina
Jedrusik, Aleksandar Bardini, Wladyslaw. [Kieślowski, Krzysztof]
Double Life of Véronique, The. See Double vie de Véronique, La.
Doubt, 2008. Dir. John Patrick Shanley. Meryl Streep, Philip Seymour Hoffman,
Amy Adams, Viola Davis, Alice Drummond. [Clergy]
Downfall of Osen, The. See Orizuru Osen.
Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb, 1964.
Dir. Stanley Kubrick. Peter Sellers, George C. Scott, Sterling Hayden, Keenan
Wynn, Slim Pickens. [End-of-the-World Films]
Dracula, 1931. Dir. Tod Browning. Bela Lugosi, Helen Chandler, David
Manners, Dwight Frye, Edward Van Sloan. [Horror; Vampire]
Dracula, 1979. Dir. John Badham. Frank Langella, Laurence Olivier, Donald
Pleasance, Kate Nelligan, Tervor Eve. [Vampires]
Dracula, 1992. See Bram Stoker’s Dracula.
Dracula: Dead and Loving It, 1995. Dir. Mel Brooks. Leslie Nielsen, Peter
MacNicol, Steven Wever, Amy Yasbeck, Mel Brooks. [Brooks, Mel]
Dracula’s Daughter, 1936. Dir. Lambert Hillyer. Otto Kruger, Gloria Holden,
Marguerite Churchill, Edward Van Sloan, Gilbert Emery. [Vampires]
Dracula 2000, 2000. Dir. Patrick Lussier. Gerard Butler, Christopher Plummer,
Jonny Lee Miller, Justine Waddell, Colleen Fitzpatrick. [Vampires]
Dream of Passion, A. See Kravigi Gynaikon.
Drums o’Voodoo, 1934. Dir. Arthur Hoerl. Laura Bowman, Augustus Smith,
Morris McKenny Lionel Monagas, Edna Barr, Alberta Perkins. [Voodoo]
Drunkard’s Reformation, A, 1909. Dir. D. W. Griffith. Arthur V. Johnson, Linda
Arvidson, Adele DeGarde. [Silent Film]
Dry Season. See Daratt.
 Appendix: Filmography | 495

Duel in the Sun, 1946. Dir. King Vidor. Jennifer Jones, Joseph Cotton, Gregory
Peck, Lionel Barrymore, Herbert Marshall. [Censorship in Hollywood]
Dybbuk, The, 1937. See Dibuk, Der.

—E—
Early Spring. See Soshun.
Early Summer. See Bakushû.
Early Years, The: Erik Nietzsche, Part I. See unge år, De: Erik Nietzsche sagaen
del 1.
Earth. See Zemlya.
Earth, 1998. Dir. Deepa Mehta. Maia Sethna, Nandita Das, Kulbhushan
Kharbanda, Babby Singh, Kitu Gidwani. [Islam; Myth; Women]
Earth Dies Screaming, The, 1965. Dir. Terence Fisher. Willard Parker, Virginia
Field, Dennis Price, Thorley Walters, Vanda Godsell. [Voodoo]
Easy Rider, 1969. Dir. Dennis Hopper. Peter Fonda, Dennis Hopper, Antonio
Mendoa, Phil Spector. [Myth]
Easy Street, 1917. Dir. Charles Chaplin. Charles Chaplin, Edna Purviance, Eric
Campbell. [Silent Film]
Eat a Bowl of Tea, 1989. Dir. Wayne Wang. Cora Miao, Russel Wong, Victor
Wong, Siu-Ming Lau, Eric Tsang. [Buddhism]
Eat Drink Man Woman. See Yin shi nan nu.
Edipo Re (Oedipus Rex), 1967. Dir. Pier Paolo Pasolini. Silcana Mangano,
Franco Citti, Alida Valli, Carmelo Bene, Julian Beck. [Greek and Roman
Myths]
8½, 1963. Dir. Federico Fellini. Marcello Mastroianni, Claudia Cardinale, Anouk
Aimée, Sandra Milo, Rossella Falk. [Fellini, Federico]
Eight Crazy Nights, 2002. Dir. Seth Kearsley. Adam Sandler, Jackie Sandler,
Austin Stout, Kevin Nealon, Rob Schneider, Norm Crosby, Jon Lovitz, Tyra
Banks. [Ritual]
Electric Horseman, The, 1979. Dir. Sydney Pollack. Robert Redford, Jane
Fonda, Valerie Perrine, Willie Nelson, John Saxon, Nicolas Coster, Allan
Arbus, Wilford Brimley. [Westerns]
Elektra, 2005. Dir. Rob Bowman. Jennifer Garner, Goran Visnjic, Kirsten Prout,
Will Yun Lee, Cary-Hiroyuki Tagawa. [Superheroes]
Elephant Man, The, 1980. Dir. David Lynch. Anthony Hopkins, John Hurt, Anne
Bancroft, Jon Gielgud, Wendy Hiller. [Horror]
Element of Crime, The. See Forbrydelsens element.
Elmer Gantry, 1960. Dir. Richard Brooks. Burt Lancaster, Jean Simmons, Arthur
Kennedy, Dean Jagger, Shirley Jones. [Clergy; Protestantism]
Emigrant, The,. See al-Muhajir.
496 | Appendix: Filmography

End of Days, 1999. Dir. Peter Hyams. Arnold Schwarzenegger, Gabriel Byrne,
Robin Runney, Kevin Pollak, CCH Pounder. [Tolkin, Michael]
End of the Spear, The, 2005. Dir. Jim Hanon. Louie Leonardo, Chad Allen, Jack
Guzman, Christina Souza, Chase Ellison. [Protestantism]
Enemies: A Love Story, 1989. Dir. Paul Mazursky. Ron Silver, Anjelica Huston,
Lena Olin, Malgorzata Zajaczkowska, Alan King. [Holocaust, The]
Enemy of the People, An. See Ganashatru.
L’Enfant sauvage (The Wild Child), 1970. Dir. François Truffaut. Jean-Pierre
Cargol, François Truffaut, Françoise Seigner, Jean Dasté, Annie Miller.
[Truffaut, François]
L’Enfer (Hell), 2005. Dir. Danis Tanovic. Emmanuelle Béart, Karin Viard,
Marie Gillain, Guillaume Canet, Jacques Gamblin. [Europe (Continental);
Kieślowski, Krzysztof]
English Patient, The, 1996. Dir. Anthony Minghella. Ralph Fiennes, Juliette
Binoche, Willem Dafoe, Kristin Scott Thomas, Naveen Andrews. [Islam]
Enigma of Kaspar Hauser, The, (also known as Every Man for Himself and God
Against All). See Jeder für Sich und Gott gegen Alle.
Entertaining Angels: The Dorothy Day Story, 1996. Dir. Michael Ray Rhodes.
Moira Kelly, Martin Sheen, Lenny von Dohlen, Melinda Dillon, Paul Lieber.
[Catholicism]
Enthusiasm. See Entuziazm: Simfoniya Donbassa.
Entre tinieblas (Dark Habits), 1983. Dir. Pedro Almodóvar. Christina Sánchez
Pascual, Will More, Laura Cepeda, Miguel Zúñiga, Julieta Serrano. [Europe
(Continental)]
Entuziazm: Simfoniya Donbassa (Enthusiasm), 1931. Documentary. Dir. Dziga
Vertov. [Russia]
Epidemic, 1987. Dir. Lars von Trier. Allan De Waal, Ole Ernst, Michael Gelting,
Colin Gilder, Svend Ali Hamann, Claes Kastholm Hansen. [Trier, Lars von]
Ernest in the Army, 1998. Dir. John R. Cherry III. Jim Varney, Hayley Tyson,
David Müller, Christo Davids, Jeffrey Pillars. [Islam]
Escape from the Planet of the Apes, 1971. Dir. Don Taylor. Roddy McDowall,
Kim Hunter, Bradford Dillman, Natalie Trundy, Eric Braeden, Sal Mineo,
M. Emmet Walsh, Ricardo Montalban. [End-of-the-World Films]
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, 2004. Dir. Michel Gondry. Jim Carrey,
Kate Winslet, Gerry Robert Byrne, Elijah Wood, Thomas Jay Ryan. [Belief]
L’Éternel retour (Love Eternal), 1943. Dir. Jean Delannoy. Madeleine Sologne,
Jean Marais, Jean Murat, Junie Astor, Roland Toutain. [Mysticism]
Et Sheaava Nafshi (Keep Not Silent), 2004. Documentary. Dir. Ilil Alexander.
[Women]
 Appendix: Filmography | 497

E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial, 1982. Dir. Steven Spielberg. Henry Thomas, Dee
Wallace-Stone, Robert MacNaughton, Drew Barrymore, Peter Coyote.
[Introduction; Science Fiction]
Europa, 1991. Dir. Lars von Trier. Jean-Marc Barr, Barbara Sukowa, Udo Kier,
Ernst-Hugo Järegård, Erik Mørk, Max von Sydow. [Trier, Lars von]
Europa, Europa, 1990. Dir. Angieszka Holland. Marco Hofschneider, Julie
Delpy, René Hofschneider, Piotr Kozlowski, André Wilms. [Europe
(Continental); Holocaust, The; Judaism]
Eve of Destruction, 1991. Dir. Duncan Gibbins. Gregory Hines, Renée
Soutendijk, Michael Greene, Kurt Fuller, John M. Jackson. [Posthumanism]
Every Man for Himself and God Against All (also known as The Enigma of
Kaspar Hauser). See Jeder für Sich und Gott gegen Alle.
Everyone Says I Love You, 1996. Dir. Woody Allen. Edward Norton, Drew
Barrymore, Diva Gray, Ami Almendral, Madeline Balmaceda. [Allen,
Woody]
Everything Remains for the People. See Vsyo ostayotsya lyudyam.
Evil Angels (also known as A Cry in the Dark), 1988. Dir. Fred Schepisi. Meryl
Streep, Sam Neill, Dale Reeves, David Hoflin, Jason Reason. [Australia]
Evilspeak, 1981. Dir. Eric Weston. Clint Howard, R.G. Armstrong, Joseph
Cortese, Claude Earl Jones, Haywood Nelson. [Horror]
Excalibur, 1981. Dir. John Boorman. Nigel Terry, Helen Mirren, Nicholas Clay,
Cherie Lunghi, Paul Geoffrey. [Magic]
Executive Decision, 1996. Dir. Stuart Baird. Kurt Russell, Steven Seagal, Halle
Berry, John Leguizamo, Oliver Platt. [Islam]
Exorcist, The, 1973. Dir. William Friedkin. Jason Miller, Ellen Burstyn, Linda
Blair, Max von Sydow, Lee J. Cobb, Kitty Winn. [Catholicism; Clergy;
Devil; End-of-the-World Films; Horror; Mysticism]
Expiration Date, 2006. Dir. Rick Stevenson. Robert A. Guthrie, Sascha Knopf,
Dee Wallace, Ned Romero, Nakotah Larance. [American Indian Religion]
Eyes Wide Shut, 1999. Stanley Kubrick. Tom Cruise, Nicole Kidman, Madison
Eginton, Jackie Sawiris, Sydney Pollack. [Kubrick, Stanley]

—F—
Fabulous Destiny of Amelie Poulain, The. See Fabuleux destin d’Amélie
Poulain, Le.
Fabuleux destin d’Amélie Poulain, Le (The Fabulous Destiny of Amelie Poulain),
2001. Dir. Jean-Pierre Jeunet. Audrey Tautou, Mathieu Kassovitz, Rufus,
Lorella Cravotta, Serge Merlin. [Europe (Continental)]
Fahrenheit 9/11, 2004. Documentary. Dir. Michael Moore. [Myth]
498 | Appendix: Filmography

Fährmann Maria (Death and the Maiden), 1936. Dir. Frank Wisbar. Sybille
Schmitz, Aribert Mog, Carl de Vogt, Peter Voß, Gerhard Bienert. [Mysticism]
Fail-Safe, 1964. Dir. Sidney Lumet. Dan O’Herlihy, Walter Matthau, Frank
Overton, Ed Binns, Fritz Weaver, Henry Fonda, Larry Hagman. [End-of-the-
World Films]
Fanny and Alexander. See Fanny och Alexander.
Fanny och Alexander (Fanny and Alexander), 1982. Dir. Ingmar Bergman.
Pernilla Allwin, Bertil Guve, Börje Ahlstedt, Allan Edwall, Ewa Fröling.
[Clergy]
Fantasia, 1940. Dir. James Algar, Samuel Armstrong. Leopold Stokowski,
Deems Taylor. [Animated Film; Devil; Europe (Continental)]
Fantasia 2000, 1999. Dir. James Algar, Gaëtan Brizzi. Leopold Stokowski, Ralph
Grierson, Kathleen Battle, Steve Martin, Itzhak Perlman, Quincy Jones, Bette
Midler, James Earl Jones, Penn Jillete, Teller. [Animated Film]
Fantastic Four, 2005. Dir. Tim Story. Ioan Gruffudd, Jessica Alba, Chris Evans,
Michael Chiklis, Julian McMahon, Hamish Linklater. [Myth]
Faraway, So Close! See In weiter Ferne, so nah!
Farewell to Arms, A, 1932. Dir. Frank Borzage. Helen Hayes, Gary Cooper,
Adolphe Menjou, Mary Phillis, Jack La Rue. [Censorship in Hollywood]
Fargo, 1996. Dir. Joel Coen. William H. Macy, Steve Buscemi, Peter Stormare,
Kristin Rudrud, Harve Presnell, Frances McDormand. [Coen, Joel and Ethan]
Father of the Bride Part II, 1995. Dir. Charles Shyer. Steve Martin, Diane
Keaton, Martin Short, Kimberly Williams, George Newbern, Kiernan Culkin.
[Islam]
Father Brown (also known as The Detective), 1954. Dir. Robert Hamer. Alec
Guinness, Joan Greenwood, Peter Finch, Cecil Parker, Bernard Lee. [Clergy]
Father Sergius. See Otets Sergiy.
Faust, 1915. Dir. Edward Sloman. Edward Sloman. [Devil]
Faust—Eine deutsche Volkssage (Faust, A German Folktale), 1926. Dir. F. W.
Murnau. Gösta Ekman, Emil Jannings, Camilla Horn, Frida Richard, William
Dieterle. [Devil]
Faust, A German Folktale. See Faust—Eine deutsche Volkssage.
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, 1998. Dir. Terry Gilliam. Johnny Depp, Benicio
Del Toro, Tobey Maguire, Ellen Barkin, Gary Busey. [Gilliam, Terry]
Fearless. See Huo Yuan Jia.
Fearless Vampire Killers, The, 1967. Dir. Roman Polanski. Jack MacGowran,
Roman Polanski, Alfie Bass, Jessie Robins, Sharon Tate. [Vampires]
Fellini’s Satyricon. See Satyricon.
fem benspænd, The, (The Five Obstructions), 2003. Documentary. Dir. Jørgen
Leth, Lars von Trier. [Trier, Lars von]
 Appendix: Filmography | 499

Female Cabby in Sidi Bel-Abbes, A. See femme taxi à Sidi Bel-Abbès, Une.
femme douce, Une (A Gentle Woman), 1969. Dir. Robert Bresson. Dominique
Sanda, Guy Frangin, Jeanne Lobre, Claude Ollier, Jacques Kébadian.
[Bresson, Robert]
femme taxi à Sidi Bel-Abbès, Une (A Female Cabby in Sidi Bel-Abbes), 2000.
Documentary. Dir. Belkacem Hadjadj. [Arab Film]
Fertile Memory. See Al-Dhakira al-khisba.
Festen (The Celebration), 1998. Dir. Thomas Vinterberg. Ulrich Thomsen,
Henning Moritzen, Thomas Bo Larsen, Paprika Steen, Birthe Neumann.
[Dogme 95]
Fiddler on the Roof, 1971. Dir. Norman Jewison. Topol, Norma Crane, Leonard
Frey, Molly Picon, Paul Mann. [Clergy; Judaism; Ritual]
Field of Dreams, 1989, Dir. Phil Alden Robinson. Kevin Costner, Amy Madigan,
Gaby Hoffmann, Ray Liotta, Timothy Busfield. [Ritual; Sports]
Fifth Element, The, 1997. Dir. Luc Besson. Bruce Willis, Gary Oldman, Ian
Holm, Milla Jovovich, Chris Tucker, Luke Perry. [Besson, Luc; Clergy;
Europe (Continental); Women]
Fighting 69th, The, 1940. Dir. William Keighley. James Cagney, Pat O’Brian,
George Brent, Jeffrey Lynn, Alan Hale. [Catholicism; Clergy]
Fighting Sullivans, The. See Sullivans, The.
Final Conflict, The, 1981. Dir. Graham Baker. Sam Neill, Rossano Brazzi, Don
Gordon, Lisa Harrow, Barnaby Holm, Mason Adams. [Clergy; End-of-the-
World Films]
Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within, 2001. Dir. Hironobu Sakaguchi. Ming-Na,
Alec Baldwin, Ving Rhames, Steve Buscemi, Peri Gilpin. [Eucastrophe]
fiore delle mille e una notte, Il (Arabian Nights), 1974. Dir. Pier Paolo Pasolini.
Ninetto Davoli, Franco Citti, Franco Merli, Tessa Bouché, Ines Pellegrini.
[Europe (Continental)]
Fire, 1996. Dir. Deepa Mehta. Karishma Jhalani, Ramanjeet Kaur, Dilip Mehta,
Javed Jaffrey, Nandita Das. [Myth; Women]
Fire and the Rain, The. See Agni Varsha.
Fisher King, The, 1991. Dir. Terry Gilliam. Jeff Bridges, Robin Williams,
Mercedes Ruehl, Amanda Plummer, David Hyde Pierce. [Gilliam, Terry;
Mysticism; Ritual]
Fistful of Dollars, A. See Per un pugno di dollari.
Fistful of Dynamite, A. See Giù la testa.
Five Obstructions, The,. See fem benspænd, De.
Flatliners, 1990. Dir. Joel Schumacher. Kiefer Sutherland, Julia Roberts, Kevin
Bacon, William Baldwin, Oliver Platt. [Mysticism; Theology and Film]
Flowers of St, Francis, The. See Francesco, giullare di Dio.
500 | Appendix: Filmography

Fond Kiss, A. See Fond Kiss, Ae.

Fond Kiss, Ae, 2004. Dir. Ken Loach. Atta Yawub, Eva Birthistle, Shamasad
Akgtar, Ghizala Avan, Shabana Akhtar Bakhsh. [Britain]
Footloose, 1984. Dir. Herbert Ross. Kevin Bacon, Lori Singer, John Lithgow,
Dianne Wiest, Chris Penn, Sarah Jessica Parker. [Clergy]
For a Few Dollars More. See Per qualche dollaro in più.
Forbidden Marriages in the Holy Land. See Al Zawadj al-mukhtalat fi-l-ardi
al-muqadassa.
Forbidden Planet, 1956. Dir. Fred M. Wilcox. Walter Pidgeon, Anne Francis,
Leslie Nielsen, Warren Stevens, Jack Kelly. [Science Fiction]
Forbrydelsens element (The Element of Crime), 1984. Dir. Lars von Trier.
Michael Elphick, Esmond Knight, Me Me Lai, Jerold Wells, Ahmed El
Shenawi. [Trier, Lars von]
Forever, 1921. Dir. George Fitzmaurice. Wallace Reid, Elsie Ferguson, Montagu
Love, George Fawcett, Dolores Cassinelli. [Mysticism]
Forgiven Sinner, The. See Léon Morin, prêtre.
Forsaken, The, 2001. Dir. J. S. Cardone. Kerr Smith, Brendan Fehr, Isabella
Miko, Johnathon Schaech, Phina Oruche. [Vampires]
For the Term of His Natural Life, 1927. Dir. Norman Dawn. George Fisher, Eva
Novak, Dunstan Webb, Jessica Harcourt, Arthur McLaglen. [Australia]
Four Christmases, 2008. Dir. Seth Gordon. Vince Vaughn, Reese Witherspoon,
Robert Duvall, Sissy Specek, Jon Voight, Jon Favreau, Mary Steenburgen,
Dwight Yoakam, Tim McGraw. [Ritual]
400 Blows, The. See Quartre cents coups, Les.
Four Nights of a Dreamer. See Quatre Nuits d’un Rêveur.
Four Weddings and a Funeral, 1994. Dir. Mike Newell. Hugh Grant, James
Fleet, Simon Callow, John Hannah, Kristin Scott Thomas, David Bower,
Charlotte Coleman, Andie MacDowell. [Britain; Clergy; Ritual]
Fox and the Hound, The, 1981. Dir. Ted Berman, Richard Rich, Art Stevens. Mickey
Rooney, Kurt Russell, Pearl Bailey, Jack Albertson, Sandy Duncan. [Mormonism]
Frailty, 2001. Dir. Bill Paxton. Bill Paxton, Matthew McConaughey, Powers
Boothe, Matt O’Leary, Jeremy Sumpter. [Belief]
Francesco, giullare di Dio (The Flowers of St, Francis), 1950. Dir. Roberto
Rossellini. Aldo Fabrizi, Brother Nazario Gerardi, Arabella Lemaitre. [Europe
(Continental); Fellini, Federico]
Frankenstein, 1931. Dir. James Whale. Colin Clive, Mae Clarke, John Boles,
Boris Karloff, Edward Van Sloan. [Horror; Science Fiction]
Fratello sole, sorella luna (Brother Sun, Sister Moon), 1972. Dir. Franco
Zeffirelli. Graham Faulkner, Judi Bowker, Leigh Lawson, Kenneth Cranham,
Lee Montague. [Mysticism]
 Appendix: Filmography | 501

Fresa y chocolate (Strawberries and Chocolate), 1994. Dir. Tomás Gutiérrez

Alea, Juan Carlos Tabío. Jorge Perugorría, Valdimir Cruz, Mirta Ibarra,
Francisco Gattorno, Joel Angelino. [Latin America]
Friday the 13th, 1980. Dir. Sean S. Cunningham. Betsy Palmer, Adrienne King,
Harry Crosby, Laurie Bartram, Jeannie Taylor, Kevin Bacon. [Horror]
Friendly Persuasion, 1956. Dir. William Wyler. Gary Cooper, Dorothy McGuire,
Anthony Perkins, Richard Eyer, Robert Middleton. [Protestantism]
Fright Night, 1985. Dir. Tom Holland. Chris Sarandon, William Ragsdale,
Amanda Bearse, Roddy McDowall, Stephan Geoffreys. [Vampires]
Frisco Kid, The, 1979. Dir. Robert Aldrich. Gene Wilder, Harrison Ford, Ramon
Bieri, Val Bisoglio, George DiCenzo, Leo Fuchs, Penny Peyser. [Clergy;
Westerns]
From Dusk Till Dawn, 1996. Dir. Robert Rodriguez. Harvey Keitel, George
Clooney, Quentin Tarantino, Juliette Lewis, Ernest Liu, Salma Hayek, Cheech
Marin. [Vampires]
Frontera, La (The Frontier), 1991. Dir. Ricardo P. Larrain. Patricio Contreras,
Gloria Laso, Alonso Venegas, Sergio Schmied, Aldo Bernales. [Latin America]
Frontier, The. See Frontera, La.
Fugitive, The, 1947. Dir. John Ford. Henry Fonda, Dolores del Rio, Pedro
Armendáriz, J. Carrol Naish, Leo Carrillo. [Clergy]
Fugitive, The, 1993. Dir. Andrew Davis. Harrison Ford, Tommy Lee Jones, Sela
Ward, Julianne Moore, Joe Pantoliano, Andreas Katsulas, Jeroen Krabbé. [Ritual]
Full Circle, 1993. Documentary. Dir. Donna Read. [Women]
Full Metal Jacket, 1987. Dir. Stanley Kubrick. Matthew Modine, Adam Baldwin,
Vincent D’Onofrio, R. Lee Ermey, Kevin Major Howard, Arliss Howard.
[Kubrick, Stanley]
Funeral, The. See Ososhiki.

—G—
Ganashatru (An Enemy of the People), 1989. Dir. Satyajit Ray. Satya Banerjee,
Dhritiman Chatterjee, Soumitra Chatterjee, Subhendy Chatterjee, Dipankar
Dey. [Hinduism]
Gandhi, 1982. Dir. Richard Attenborough. Ben Kingsley, Candice Bergen,
Edward Fox, John Gielgud, Trevor Howard, Rohini Hattangadi. [Hinduism]
Gangavataran (The Descent of Ganga), 1937. Dir. Madhukar Bavdekar,
Dhundiraj Govind Phalke. Chitnis, Suresh Pardesi, Kusum Deshpande,
Bhagwat, Shankarrao Bhosle. [Bollywood]
Gangs of New York, 2002. Dir. Martin Scorsese. Leonardo DiCaprio, Daniel
Day-Lewis, Cameron Diaz, Jim Broadbent, John C. Reilly, Henry Thomas,
Liam Neeson. [Scorsese, Martin]
502 | Appendix: Filmography

Garden of Allah, The, 1936. Dir. Richard Boleslawski. Marlene Dietrich, Charles
Boyer, Basil Rathbone, C. Aubrey Smith, Joseph Schildkraut. [Catholicism]
Garden of the Finzi-Continis, The. See Giardino die Finzi-Contini, Il.
Gaucho, The, 1927. Dir. F. Richard Jones. Douglas Fairbanks, Lupe Velez, Joan
Barclay, Eve Southern, Gustav von Seyffertitz. [Clergy; Silent Film]
Genèse, La (Genesis), 1999. Dir. Cheick Oumar Sissoko. Sotigui Kouyaté, Salif
Keita, Balla Moussa Keita, Fatoumata Diawara, Maimouna Hélène Diarra.
[Africa]
Genesis. See Genèse, La.
Gentle Woman, A. See Femme Douce, Une.
Gentleman’s Agreement, 1947. Dir. Elia Kazan. Gregory Peck, Dorothy
McGuire, John Garfield, Celeste Holm, Anne Revere. [Judaism]
Gerry, 2002. Dir. Gus Van Sant. Casey Affleck, Matt Damon. [Myth]
Ghost, 1990. Dir. Jerry Zucker. Patrick Swayze, Demi Moore, Tony Goldwyn,
Stanley Lawrence, Christopher J. Keene. [Mysticism]
Ghost Breakers, The, 1940. Dir. George Marshall. Bob Hope, Paulette Goddard,
Richard Carlson, Paul Lukas, Willie Best. [Voodoo]
Ghost in a Shell. See Kôkaku kidôtai.
Ghoul, The, 1933. Dir. T. Hayes Hunter. Boris Karloff, Cedric Hardwicke, Ernest
Thesiger, Dorothy Hyson, Anthony Bushell. [Voodoo]
Giardino die Finzi-Contini, Il (The Garden of the Finzi-Continis), 1970.
Dir. Vittorio De Sica. Lino Capolicchio, Dominique Sanda, Fabio Testi,
Romolo Valli, Helmut Berger. [Europe (Continental)]
Gidget, 1959. Dir. Paul Wendkos. Sandra Dee, James Dean, Cliff Robertson,
Arthur O’Connell, Bruce Belland. [Ritual]
Gigi, 1958. Dir. Vincent Minelli. Leslie Caron, Maurice Chevalier, Louis
Jourdan, Hermione Gingold, Eva Gabor. [Ritual]
Giovanna d’Arco al rogo (Joan of Arc at the Stake), 1954. Dir. Roberto
Rossellini. Ingrid Bergman, Tullio Carminati, Giacinto Prandelli, Agusto
Romani, Plinio Clabassi. [Europe (Continental); Joan of Arc]
Giù la testa (A Fistful of Dynamite), 1971. Dir. Sergio Leone. James Coburn,
Rod Steiger, Maria Monti, Rik Battaglia, Franco Graziosi. [Leone, Sergio]
Giulietta degli spiriti (Juliet of the Spirits), 1965. Dir. Federico Fellini. Giulietta
Masina, Sandra Milo, Mario Pisu, Valentina Cortese, Valeska Gert. [Fellini,
Federico; Mysticism]
Gladiator, 2000. Dir. Ridley Scott. Russell Crowe, Joaquin Pheonix, Connie
Nielsen, Oliver Reed, Richard Harris. [Bible Films; Greek and Roman Myths]
Gleaming the Cube, 1989. Dir. Graeme Clifford. Christian Slater, Steven Bauer,
Richard Herd, Le Tuan, Min Luong. [Tolkin, Michael]
Glengarry Glen Ross, 1992. Dir. James Foley. Al Pacino, Jack Lemmon, Alec
Baldwin, Alan Arkin, Ed Harris. [Mamet, David]
 Appendix: Filmography | 503

Go Down, Death!, 1944. Dir. Spencer Williams. Myra D. Hemmings, Samuel H.

James, Eddye L. Houston, Spencer Williams, Amos Groughan. [Clergy]
. . . And God Created Woman. See Et Dieu . . . créa la femme.
Goddess, The. See Devi.
Goddess Remembered, 1989. Documentary. Dir. Donna Read. Martha Henry.
[Women]
Godfather, The, 1972. Dir. Francis Ford Coppola. Marlon Brando, Al Pacino,
James Caan, Richard S. Castellano, Robert Duvall, Diane Keaton, John
Marley. [Bible Films; Catholicism; Coppola, Francis Ford; Ritual]
Godfather: Part II, The, 1974. Dir. Francis Ford Coppola. Al Pacino, Robert
Duvall, Diane Keaton, Robert De Niro, John Cazale, Talia Shire. [Bible Films;
Catholicism; Coppola, Francis Ford]
Godfather: Part III, The, 1990. Dir. Francis Ford Coppola. Al Pacino, Diane
Keaton, Talia Shire, Andy Garcia, Eli Wallach. [Bible Films; Catholicism;
Coppola, Francis Ford]
God Is My Co-Pilot, 1945. Dir. Robert Florey. Dennis Morgan, Dane Clark,
Raymond Massey, Alan Hale, Andrea King. [Catholicism]
Gods Must Be Crazy, The, 1980. Dir. Jamie Uys. Marius Weyers, Sandra
Prinsloo, N!xau, Louw Verwey, Michael Thys. [Indigenous Religions]
Godspell: A Musical Based on the Gospel According to St, Matthew, 1973.
Dir. David Greene. Victor Garber, Katie Hanley, David Haskell, Merrell
Jackson, Joanne Jonas. [Jesus; Ritual]
Godzilla. See Gojira.
Go for Zucker! See Alles auf Zucker!
Going My Way, 1944. Dir. Leo McCarey. Bing Crosby, Barry Fitzgerald, Frank
McHugh, James Brown, Gene Lockhart. [Catholicism; Clergy]
Gojira (Godzilla), 1954. Dir. Ishirô Honda. Akira Takarada, Momoko Kôchi,
Akihiko Hirata, Takashi Shimura, Fukuki Murakami. [Science Fiction]
Golden Age, The. See L’Âge d’or.
Golden Braid, 1990. Dir. Paul Cox. Chris Haywood, Gosia Dobrowolska, Paul
Chubb, Norman Kaye, Marion Heathfield. [Australia]
Golden Child, The, 1986. Dir. Michael Ritchie. J.L. Reate, Eddie Murphy,
Charles Dance, Charlotte Lewis, Victor Wong. [Buddhism]
Golem, Der (The Golem), 1920. Dir. Henrik Galeen, Paul Wegener. Paul
Wegener, Rudolf Blümner, Robert A. Dietrich, Carl Ebert, Henrik Galeen.
[Clergy; Horror; Mysticism]
Golem, Le (The Golem), 1936. Dir. Julien Duvivier. Harry Baur, Charles Dorat,
Jany Holt, Roger Karl, Germaine Aussey. [Mysticism]
Gone with the Wind, 1939. Dir. Victor Fleming, George Cukor, Sam Wood.
Vivien Leigh, Clark Gable, Olivia de Havilland, Leslie Howard, Hattie
McDaniel. [Missionary Films]
504 | Appendix: Filmography

Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, The. See buono, il brutto, il cattivo, Il.
Good Wife of Tokyo, The, 1992. Documentary. Dir. Kim Longinotto. Claire Hunt,
Kazuko Hohki, Yukiko Hohki, Chika Nakagawa, Grant Showbiz. [Women]
GoodFellas, 1990. Dir. Martin Scorsese. Robert De Niro, Ray Liotta, Joe Pesci,
Lorraine Bracco, Paul Sorvino. [Scorsese, Martin]
Gospel, The, 2005. Dir. Rob Hardy. Boris Kodjoe, Idris Elba, Nona Gaye, Clifton
Powell, Aloma Wright. [Protestantism]
Gospel According to St, Matthew, The,. See vangelo secondo Matteo, Il.
Gospel Blimp, The, 1967. Dir. Irvin S. Yeaworth, Jr. Paul Bubar, Bob O’Donnell.
[Missionary Films]
Grand bleu, Le (The Big Blue), 1988. Dir. Luc Besson. Rosanna Arquette, Jean-
Marc Barr, Jean Reno, Paul Shenar, Sergio Castillito. [Besson, Luc]
Grand Canyon, 1991. Dir. Lawrence Kasdan. Danny Glover, Kevin Kline, Steve
Martin, Mary McDonnell, Mary-Louise Parker. [Belief]
Grand Voyage, Le, 2004. Dir. Ismaël Ferroukhi. Nicolas Cazalé, Mohamed Majd,
Jacky Nercessian, Ghina Ognianova, Kamel Belghazi. [Ritual]
Grave of the Fireflies. See Hotaru no haka.
Great Commandment, The, 1939. Dir. Irving Pichel. John Beal, Maurice
Moscovitch, Albert Dekker, Marjorie Cooley, Lloyd Corrigan. [Missionary
Films]
Greatest Story Ever Told, The, 1965. Dir. George Stevens. Max von Sydow,
Michael Anderson, Jr., Carroll Baker, Ina Balin, Pat Boone. [Horror; Jesus;
Ritual]
Green Pastures, The, 1936. Dir. Marc Connelly, William Keighley. Rex Ingram,
Oscar Polk, Eddie Anderson, Frank H. Wilson, George Reed. [Clergy]
Greystoke: The Legend of Tarzan, Lord of the Apes, 1984. Dir. Hugh Hudson.
Ralph Richardson, Ian Holm, James Fox, Christopher Lambert, Andie
MacDowell. [Myth]
Ground Zero, 1987. Dir. Bruce Myles. Colin Friels, Jack Thompson, Donald
Pleasence, Natalie Bate, Burnham Burnham. [Islam]
Gruz 200 (Cargo 200), 2007. Dir. Aleksei Balabanov. Agniya Kuznetsova,
Aleksei Poluyan, Leonid Gromov, Aleksei Serebryakov, Leonid Bichevin.
[Russia]
Guy Named Joe, A, 1943. Dir. Victor Fleming. Spencer Tracy, Irene Dunne, Van
Johnson, Ward Bond, James Gleason. [Heaven]

—H—
Hackers, 1995. Dir. Iain Softley. John Lee Miller, Angelina Jolie, Jesse Bradford,
Matthew Lillard, Laurence Mason. [Posthumanism]
Hail Mary. See “Je vous salue, Marie.”
 Appendix: Filmography | 505

Hallelujah!, 1929. Dir. King Vidor. Daniel L. Haynes, Nina Mae McKinney,
William Fountaine, Harry Gray, Fanny Belle DeKnight. [Clergy]
Halloween, 1978. Dir. John Carpenter. Donald Pleasence, Jamie Lee Curtis,
Nancy Kyes, P.J. Soles, Charles Cyphers. [Horror]
Handmaid’s Tale, The, 1990. Dir. Volker Schlöndorff. Natasha Richardson, Faye
Dunaway, Aidan Quinn, Elizabeth McGovern, Victoria Tennant. [Dystopia;
Science Fiction]
Hanging Woman, The, (also known as Terror of the Living Dead). See orgía de
los muertos, La.
Hannah and Her Sisters, 1986. Dir. Woody Allen. Barabara Hershey, Carrie
Fisher, Michael Caine, Mia Farrow, Dianne Wiest. [Allen, Woody]
Happiness. See Schastye.
Happy Times. See Xingfu shiguang.
Hardcore, 1979. Dir. Paul Schrader. George C. Scott, Peter Boyle, Season
Hubley, Dick Sargent, Leonard Gaines. [Schrader, Paul]
Hardware, 1990. Dir. Richard Stanley. Dylan McDermott, Stacey Travis, John
Lynch, William Hootkins, Iggy Pop. [Posthumanism]
Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, 2002. Dir. Chris Columbus. Daniel
Radcliffe, Rubert Grint, Emma Watson, Richard Griffiths, Fiona Shaw, Harry
Melling. [Magic]
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, 2005. Dir. Mike Newell. Daniel Radcliffe,
Rubert Grint, Emma Watson, Richard Griffiths, Fiona Shaw, Harry Melling.
[Magic]
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, 2004. Dir. Alfonso Cuaron. Daniel
Radcliffe, Rubert Grint, Emma Watson, Richard Griffiths, Fiona Shaw, Harry
Melling. [Magic]
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, 2001. Dir. Chris Columbus. Richard
Harris, Maggie Smith, Robbie Coltrane, Daniel Radcliffe, Rubert Grint,
Emma Watson, Richard Griffiths, Fiona Shaw, Harry Melling. [Magic]
Haunting, The, 1999. Dir. Jan de Bont. Lili Taylor, Liam Neeson, Catherine
Zeta-Jones, Owen Wilson, Bruce Dern. [Horror]
Hawaii, 1966. Dir. George Roy Hill. Julie Andrews, Max von Sydow, Richard
Harris, Gene Hackman, Carroll O’Connor. [Clergy]
Hawks and the Sparrows, The. See Uccellacci e Uccellini.
Häxan (The Witches), 1922. Rereleased as Witchcraft Through the Ages, 1968.
Dir. Benjamin Christensen. Maren Pedersen, Clara Pontoppidan, Elith Pio,
Oscar Stribolt, Tora Teje. [Devil; Horror; Magic]
HealtH, 1980. Dir. Robert Altman. Carol Burnett, Glenda Jackson, James
Garner, Lauren Bacall, Paul Dooley, Donald Moffat, Henry Gibson, Diane
Stilwell, Alfre Woodard. [Altman, Robert]
506 | Appendix: Filmography

Heaven, 2002. Dir. Tom Tykwer. Cate Blanchett, Giovanni Ribsi, Remo Girone,
Stefania Rocca, Alessandro Sperduti. [Europe (Continental); Heaven;
Kieślowski, Krzysztof]
Heaven Can Wait, 1978. Dir. Warren Beatty and Buck Henry. Warren Beatty,
Julie Christie, James Mason, Jack Warden, Charles Grodin. [Heaven]
Heaven Help Us, 1985. Dir. Michael Dinner. Donald Sutherland, John Heard,
Andrew McCarthy, Mary Stuart Masterson, Kevin Dillon. [Clergy]
Heavens Above!, 1963. Dir. John Boulting, Roy Boulting. Peter Sellers, Cecil
Parker, Isabel Jeans, Ian Carmichael, Bernard Miles, Brock Peters. [Clergy]
Hebrew Hammer, The, 2003. Dir. Jonathan Kesselman. Adam Goldberg, Judy
Greer, Andy Dick, Mario Van Peebles, Peter Coyote. [Judaism]
Hell. See L’Enfer.
Hell’s Hinges, 1916. Dir. Charles Swickard. William S. Hart, Clara Williams,
Jack Standing, Alfred Hollingsworth, Robert McKim. [Clergy; Silent
Film]
Hellboy, 2004. Dir. Guillermo del Toro. Ron Perlman, John Hurt, Selma Blair,
Rupert Evans, Karel Roden, Jeffrey Tambor. [Superheroes]
Help!, 1965. Dir. Richard Lester. John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George
Harrison, Ringo Starr, Leo McKern. [Mysticism]
Hercules, 1997. Dir. Ron Clements and John Musker. Tate Donovan, Josh
Keaton, Roger Bart, Danny DeVito, James Woods, Susan Egan, Bob
Goldthwait, Rip Torn, Hal Holbrook, Amanda Plummer. [Animated Films;
Myth]
Here Comes Mr, Jordan, 1941. Dir. Alexander Hall. Robert Montgomery, Evelyn
Keyes, Claude Rains, Rita Johnson, Edward Everett Horton. [Heaven]
Hero. See Ying xiong.
Hero, The. See Zhivoy.
Heroes of the Cross, 1909. Dir. Joseph Perry. [Australia]
Ha-Hesder (Time of Favor), 2000. Dir. Joseph Cedar. Aki Avni, Tinkerbell, Idan
Alterman, Assi Dayan, Abraham Celektar. [Judaism; Myth]
Hester Street, 1975. Dir. Joan Micklin Silver. Carol Kane, Steven Keats, Mel
Howard, Anna Berger, Ed Crowley. [Judaism]
Hexen bis aufs Blut gequält (Burn Witch Burn), 1970. Dir. Michael Armstrong.
Herbert Lom, Udo Kier, Olivera Vuco, Reggie Nalder, Herbert Fux. [Magic]
Hidden Fortress, The. See Kakushi-toride no san-akunin.
Hideous Kinky, 1998. Dir. Gilles MacKinnon. Kate Winslet, Saïd Taghmaoui,
Bella Riza, Carrie Mullan, Pierre Clementi. [Islam]
High and Low. See Tengoku to jigoku.
High Anxiety, 1977. Dir. Mel Brooks. Mel Brooks, Madeline Kahn, Cloris
Leachman, Harvey Korman, Ron Carey. [Brooks, Mel]
 Appendix: Filmography | 507

High Noon, 1952. Dir. Fred Zinnemann. Gary Cooper, Thomas Mitchell, Lloyd
Bridges, Katy Jurado, Grace Kelly, Otto Kruger, Lon Chaney, Jr., Harry
Morgan, Ian MacDonald, Lee Van Cleef. [Protestantism; Westerns]
High Plains Drifter, 1973. Dir. Clint Eastwood. Clint Eastwood, Verna Bloom,
Marianna Hill, Mitch Ryan, Jack Ging, Billy Curtis, Geoffrey Lewis.
[Westerns]
Hijo de la novia, El (The Son of the Bride), 2001. Dir. Juan José Campanella.
Ricardo Darín, Héctor Alterio, Norma Aleandro, Eduardo Blanco, Natalia
Verbeke. [Latin America]
Himmel über Berlin, Der (The Sky Over Berlin; also known as Wings of Desire),
1987. Dir. Wim Wenders. Bruno Ganz, Solveig Dommartin, Otto Sander, Curt
Bois, Peter Faulk. [Angels; Europe (Continental); Heaven]
His People, 1925. Dir. Edward Sloman. Rudolph Schildkraut, Rosa Rosanova,
Robert Gordon, George J. Lewis, Albert Bushaland. [Silent Film]
History of the World, Part I, 1981. Dir. Mel Brooks. Mel Brooks, Dom DeLuise,
Madeline Kahn, Harvey Korman, Cloris Leachman. [Brooks, Mel]
Hitman, The, 1991. Dir. Arran Norris. Chuck Norris, Michael Parks, Al Waxman,
Alberta Watson, Salim Grant. [Islam]
Holiday Inn, 1942. Dir. Mark Sandrich. Bing Crosby, Fred Astaire, Marjorie
Reynolds, Virginia Dale, Walter Abel. [Holidays]
Holiday of St. Jorgen. See Prazdnik svyatogo Yorgena.
Holy Mountain, The, 1973. Dir. Alejandro Jodorowsky. Alejandro Jodorowsky,
Horácio Salinas, Zamira Saunders, Juan Ferrara, Adrianna Page, Burt Kleiner.
[Mysticism]
Homicide, 1991. Dir. David Mamet. Joe Mantegna, William H. Macy, Vincent
Guastaferro, J.J. Johnston, Jack Wallace. [Mamet, David]
Hong gao liang (Red Sorghum), 1987. Dir. Yimou Zhang. Li Gong, Wen Jiang,
Rujun Ten. [China]
Hook, 1991. Dir. Steven Spielberg. Dustin Hoffman, Robin Williams, Julia
Roberts, Bob Hoskins, Maggie Smith, Caroline Goodall. [Ritual]
Hoosiers, 1986. Dir. David Anspaugh. Gene Hackman, Barbara Hershey, Dennis
Hopper, Sheb Wooley, Fern Persons. [Clergy]
Hop, the Devil’s Brew, 1916. Dir. Phillips Smalley, Lois Weber. Phillips
Smalley, Lois Weber, Marie Walcamp, Charles Hammond, Juan de la Cruz.
[Silent Film]
Hotaru no haka (Grave of the Fireflies), 1988. Dir. Isao Takahata. Tsutomu
Tatsumi, Ayano Shiraishi, Yoshiko Shinohara, Akemi Yamaguchi. [Japan]
House of Evil, 1974. Television. Dir. Bill Glenn. Jamie Smith-Jackson, Salome
Jens, Dabney Coleman, Andrew Robinson, Sarah Cunningham. [Devil]
House of Flying Daggers. See Shi mian mai fu.
508 | Appendix: Filmography

Hudsucker Proxy, The, 1994. Dir. Joel Coen. Tim Robbins, Jennifer Jason Leigh,
Paul Newman, Charles Durning, John Mahoney. [Coen, Joel and Ethan]
Hulk, 2003. Dir. Ang Lee. Eric Bana, Jennifer Connelly, Sam Elliott, Josh Lucas,
Nick Nolte. [Bible Films; Posthumanism; Tolkin, Michael]
Hum Aapke Hain Koun . . . ! (What Am I to You . . . !), 1994. Dir. Sooraj Barjatya.
Madhuri Dixit, Salman Khan, Mohnish Bahl, Renuka Shahane, Anupam Kher.
[Bollywood]
Humoresque, 1920. Dir. Frank Borzage. Gaston Glass, Vera Gordon, Alma
Rubens, Dore Davidson, Bobby Connelly. [Silent Film]
Hunchback of Notre Dame, The, 1996. Dir. Gary Trousdale, Kirk Wise. Tom
Hulce, Demi Moore, Tony Jay, Kevin Kline, Paul Kandel. [Animated Films]
Hunt for Red October, The, 1990. Dir. John McTiernan. Sean Connery, Alec
Baldwin, Scott Glenn, Sam Neill, James Earl Jones, Joss Ackland, Richard
Jordan, Peter Firth, Tim Curry, Courtney B. Vance. [Ritual]
Huo Yuan Jia (Fearless), 2006. Dir. Ronny Yu. Jet Li, Shido Nakamura, Betty
Sun, Yong Dong, Hee Ching Paw. [China]
Las Hurdes (Land Without Bread), 1933. Dir. Luis Buñuel. Abel Jacquin,
Alexandre O’Neill. [Buñuel, Luis]
Husbands and Wives, 1992. Dir. Woody Allen. Woody Allen, Mia Farrow, Judy
Davis, Sydney Pollack, Juliette Lewis. [Allen, Woody]
Hustler, The, 1961. Dir. Robert Rossen. Paul Newman, Jackie Gleason, Piper
Laurie, George C. Scott, Myron McCormick. [Scorsese, Martin]
Hypocrites, 1915. Writer. Lois Weber. Courtenay Foote, Myrtle Stedman,
Herbert Standing, Adele Farrington. [Clergy; Silent Film]

—I—
I Am Legend, 2007. Dir. Francis Lawrence. Will Smith, Alice Braga, Charlie
Tahan, Salli Richardson-Whitfield, Willow Smith. [Vampires]
I Call First. See Who’s That Knocking at My Door.
I Confess, 1953. Dir. Alfred Hitchcock. Montgomery Clift, Anne Baxter, Karl
Malden, Brian Aherne, Roger Dann. [Catholicism]
I Drink Your Blood, 1970. Dir. David Durston. Bhaskar Roy Chowdhury, Jadine
Wong, Rhonda Fultz, George Patterson, Riley Mills. [Devil]
I ♥ Huckabees, 2004. Dir. David O. Russell. Jason Schwartzman, Isabelle
Huppert, Dustin Hoffman, Lily Tomlin, Jude Law, Mark Wahlberg, Naomi
Watts. [Myth]
I Love Cinema. See Baheb el cima.
I Married a Witch, 1942. Dir. René Clair. Fredric March, Veronica Lake, Robert
Benchley, Susan Hayward, Cecil Kellaway. [Magic]
I Remember. See Amarcord.
 Appendix: Filmography | 509

I, the Worst of All. See Yo, la peor de todas.

I’d Climb the Highest Mountain, 1951. Dir. Henry King. Susan Hayward,
William Lundigan, Rory Calhoun, Barbara Bates, Gene Lockhart. [Clergy]
Identity, 2003. Dir. James Mangold. John Cusack, Ray Liotta, Amanda Peet,
John Hawkes, Alfred Molina. [Belief]
Idioterne (The Idiots), 1998. Dir. Lars von Trier. Bodil Jørgensen, Jens Albinus,
Anne Louise Hassing, Troels Lyby, Nikolaj Lie Kaas. [Trier, Lars von]
Idiots, The. See Idioterne.
If Footmen Tire You, What Will Horses Do?, 1971. Dir. Ron Ormond. Judy
Creech, Cecil Scaife, Gene McFall, Wes Saunders, La Quinta Scaife.
[Missionary Films]
Ifigeneia (Iphigenia), 1977. Dir. Mihalis Kakogiannis. Tatiana Papamoschou,
Irene Papas, Kostas Kazakos, Kostas Karras, Christos Tsagas. [Greek and
Roman Myths]
Ikiru, 1952. Dir. Akira Kurosawa. Takashi Shimura, Shinichi Himori, Haruo
Tanaka, Minoru Chiaki, Miki Odagiri. [Kurosawa, Akira]
Image of the Beast, 1980. Dir. Donald W. Thompson. William Wellman, Jr.,
Susan Plumb, Patty Dunning, Russell S. Doughten, Jr., Wenda Shereos, Thom
Rachford. [End-of-the-World Films]
Images, 1972. Dir. Robert Altman. Susannah York, Rene Auberjonois, Marcel
Bozzuffi, Hugh Millais, Cathryn Harrison. [Altman, Robert]
Images of Relief. See Befrielsesbilleder.
I magi randagi (We Free Kings), 1996. Dir. Sergio Citti. Silvio Orlando, Patrick
Bauchau, Rolf Zacher. [Pasolini, Pier Paolo]
‘Imarat al-Ya’qubiyan (The Yacoubian Building), 2006. Dir. Marwan Hamed. Adel
Imam, Nour El-Sherif, Youssra, Essad Youniss, Ahmed Bedir. [Arab Film]
Inconvenient Truth, An, 2006. Documentary. Dir. Davis Guggenheim. Al Gore.
[End-of-the-World Films]
Incredible Hulk, The, 2008. Dir. Louis Leterrier. Edward Norton, Liv Tyler, Tim
Roth, William Hurt, Tim Blake Nelson. [Myth]
Incredible Shrinking Man, The, 1957. Dir. Jack Arnold. Grant Williams, Randy
Stuart, April Kent, Paul Langton, Raymond Bailey. [Horror]
Incubus, 1965. Dir. Leslie Stevens. William Shatner, Allyson Ames, Eloise
Hardt, Robert Fortier, Ann Atmar. [Devil]
Independence Day, 1996. Dir. Roland Emmerich. Will Smith, Bill Pullman, Jeff
Goldblum, Mary McDonnell, Judd Hirsch. [Missionary Films; Myth; Ritual;
Science Fiction]
Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, 1989. Dir. Steven Spielberg. Harrison Ford,
Sean Connery, Denholm Elliott, Alison Doody, John Rhys-Davies, Julian
Glover, River Phoenix. [Ritual]
510 | Appendix: Filmography

Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, 1984. Dir. Steven Spielberg. Harrison
Ford, Kate Capshaw, Jonathan Ke Quan, Amrish Puri, Roshan Seth. [Hinduism]
Inherit the Wind, 1960. Dir. Stanley Kramer. Spencer Tracy, Fredric March,
Gene Kelly, Dick York, Donna Anderson, Harry Morgan, Claude Akins.
[Protestantism]
Inn of the Sixth Happiness, The, 1958. Dir. Mark Robson. Ingrid Bergman, Curd
Jürgens, Robert Donat, Michael David, Athene Seyler. [Clergy]
In Praise of Mother Santoshi. See Jai Santoshi Maa, 1975/2006.
Interview with the Vampire: The Vampire Chronicles, 1994. Dir. Neil Jordan.
Tom Cruise, Brad Pitt, Kirsten Dunst, Stephen Rea, Antonio Banderas,
Christan Slater. [Vampires]
In the Company of Men, 1997. Dir. Neil LaBute. Aaron Eckhart, Stacy Edwards,
Matt Malloy, Michael Martin, Mark Rector. [Mormonism]
Intolerable Cruelty, 2003. Dir. Joel Coen. George Clooney, Catherine Zeta-
Jones, Geoffrey Rush, Cedric the Entertainer, Edward Herrmann. [Coen, Joel
and Ethan]
Intolerance; Love’s Struggle Throughout the Ages, 1916. Dir. D. W. Griffith.
Mae Marsh, Robert Harron, F.A. Turner, Sam De Grasse, Vera Lewis.
[Catholicism; Dreyer, Carl Theodor; Judaism; Silent Film]
Invasion of the Body Snatchers, 1956. Dir. Don Siegel. Kevin McCarthy, Dana
Wynter, Larry Gates, King Donovan, Carolyn Jones. [Science Fiction]
Invasion of the Body Snatchers, 1978. Dir. Phillip Kaufman. Donald Sutherland,
Brooke Adams, Jeff Goldblum, Veronica Cartwritght. Leonard Nimoy.
[Science Fiction]
Invisible Invaders, 1959. Dir. Edward L. Cahn. John Agar, Jean Byron, Philip
Tonge, Robert Hutton, John Carradine. [Voodoo]
Iphigenia. See Ifigeneia.
I, Robot, 2004. Dir. Alex Proyas. Will Smith, Bridget Moynahan, Alan Tudyk,
James Cromwell, Bruce Greenwood. [Posthumanism; Science Fiction]
Iskandariyya . . . leh? (Alexanderia . . . Why?), 1978. Dir. Youssef Chahine. Ahmed
Zaki, Naglaa Fathy, Farid Shawqi, Mahmoud El-Meliguy, Ezzat El Alaili.
[Arab Film]
Island, The. See Ostrov.
It Happened One Night, 1934. Dir. Frank Capra. Clark Gable, Claudette Colbert,
Walter Connolly, Roscoe Karns, Jameson Thomas. [Capra, Frank]
It’s a Wonderful Life, 1946. Dir. Frank Capra. James Stewart, Donna Reed,
Lionel Barrymore, Thomas Mitchell, Henry Travers. [Angels; Besson, Luc;
Capra, Frank; Catholicism; Heaven; Holidays; Ritual]
Italianamerican, 1974. Documentary. Dir. Martin Scorsese. Catherine Scorsese,
Charles Scorsese, Martin Scorsese. [Scorsese, Martin]
 Appendix: Filmography | 511

Ivan Groznyy I (Ivan the Terrible, Part One), 1944. Dir. Seregei M. Eisenstein.
Nikolai Cherkasov, Lyudmila Tselikovskaya, Serafima Birman, Mikhail
Nazvanov. [Russia]
Ivan Groznyy II: Boyarsky zagovor (Ivan the Terrible, Part Two), 1958.
Dir. Seregei M. Eisenstein, M. Filimonova. Nikolai Cherkasov, Serafima
Birman, Pavel Kadochnikov, Mikhail Zharov, Amvrosi Buchma. [Russia]
Ivan the Terrible, Part One. See Ivan Groznyy I.
Ivan the Terrible, Part Two. See Ivan Groznyy II: Boyarsky zagovor.
Ivanovo Destvo (My Name Is Ivan), 1962. Dir. Andrei Tarkovsky. Nikolay
Burlyaev, Valentin Zubkov, Yevgeni Zharikov, Stepan Krylov, Nikolai Grinko.
[Tarkovsky, Andrei]
I Walked with a Zombie, 1943. Dir. Jacques Tourneur. James Ellison, Frances
Dee, Tom Conway, Edith Barrett, James Bell. [Horror; Voodoo]

—J—
Jabberwocky, 1977. Dir. Terry Gilliam. Michael Palin, Harry H. Corbett, John Le
Mesurier, Warren Mitchell, Max Wall. [Gilliam, Terry]
Jack, 1996. Dir. Francis Ford Coppola. Robin Williams, Diane Lane, Brian
Kerwin, Jennifer Lopez, Bill Cosby, Fran Drescher. [Coppola, Francis Ford]
Jackie Brown, 1997. Dir. Quentin Tarantino. Pam Grier, Samuel L. Jackson,
Robert Forester, Britdget Fonda, Michael Keaton, Robert De Niro, Michael
Bowen, Chris Tucker. [Tarantino, Quentin]
Jacob’s Ladder, 1990. Dir. Adrian Lyne. Tim Robbins, Elizabeth Peña, Danny
Aiello, Matt Craven, Pruitt Taylor Vince. [Mysticism]
Jai Santoshi Maa (In Praise of Mother Santoshi), 1975. Dir. Vijay Sharma.
Kanan Kaushal, Anita Guha, Ashish Kumar. [Bollywood]
Jai Santoshi Maa, 2006. Dir. Ahmed Siddiqui. Nushrat Bharucha, Rakest Bapat,
Lalit Tiwari, Sanjay Swaraj, Shashi Sharma. [Bollywood]
Jason and the Argonauts, 1963. Dir. Don Chaffey. Todd Armstrong, Nancy
Kovack, Gary Raymond, Laurence Naismith, Niall MacGinnis. [Greek and
Roman Myths]
Jason and the Argonauts, 2000. Television. Dir. Nick Willing. Jason London,
Olivia Williams, Frank Langella, Dennis Hopper, Adrian Lester, Brian
Thompson, Derek Jacobi, Natasha Henstridge. [Greek and Roman Myths]
Jaws, 1975. Dir. Steven Spielberg. Roy Scheider, Robert Shaw, Richard
Dreyfuss, Lorraine Gary, Murray Hamilton. [Horror; Ritual; Women]
Jazz Singer, The, 1927, Dir. Alan Crosland. Al Joslon, May McAvoy, Warner
Oland, Eugenie Besserer, Otto Lederer. [Clergy; Judaism]
Jazz Singer, The, 1952. Dir. Michael Curtiz. Danny Thomas, Peggy Lee, Eduard
Franz, Mildred Dunnock, Alex Gerry. [Clergy]
512 | Appendix: Filmography

Jazz Singer, The, 1980. Dir. Richard Fleischer. Neil Diamond, Laurence Oliver,
Lucie Arnez, Catlin Adams, Franklyn Ajaye. [Clergy]
Jeanne d’Arc (Joan of Arc), 1899. Dir. Georges Méliès. Bleuette Bernon,
Georges Méliès, Jeanne d’Alcy. [Joan of Arc]
“Je vous salue, Marie” (Hail Mary), 1985. Dir. Jean-Luc Godard. Myriem
Roussel, Thierry Rode, Philippe Lacoste, Manon Anderson, Malachi Jara
Kohan. [Europe (Continental)]
Jeder für sich und Gott gegen alle (Every Man for Himself and God Against All,
also known as The Enigma of Kaspar Hauser), 1974. Dir. Werner Herzog.
Bruno S., Walter Ladengast, Brigitte Mira, Willy Semmerlogge, Michael
Kroecher. [Europe (Continental)]
Jersey Girl, 2004. Dir. Kevin Smith. Betty Aberlin, Matt McFarland, Sarah
Stafford, Paulie Litt, Christian Fan. [Smith, Kevin]
Jerusalem, 1996. Dir. Bille August. Maria Bonnevie, Ulf Friberg, Pernilla
August, Lena Endre, Sven-Bertil Taube. [Europe (Continental)]
Jesus, 1979. Dir. John Krish, Peter Sykes. Brian Deacon, Rivka Neuman, Joseph
Shiloach, Niko Nitai. [Missionary Films]
Jesus Christ Superstar, 1973. Dir. Norman Jewison. Ted Neeley, Carl Anderson,
Yvonne Elliman, Barry Dennen, Bob Bingham. [Jesus; Ritual]
Jésus de Montréal (Jesus of Montreal), 1989. Dir. Denys Arcand. Lothaire
Bluteau, Catherine Wilkening, Johanne-Marie Tremblay, Rémy Girard, Robert
Lepage. [Clergy]
Jesus of Montreal. See Jésus de Montréal.
Jesus of Nazareth, 1977. Television. Dir. Franco Zeffirelli. Robert Powell, Anne
Bancroft, Ernest Borgnine, Claudia Cardinale, Valentina Cortese. [Besson,
Luc; Bible Films; Jesus; Judaism]
Joan of Arc (also known as The Burning of Joan of Arc), 1895. Dir. Alfred Clark.
[Joan of Arc]
Joan of Arc, 1948. Dir. Victor Fleming. Ingrid Bergman, Francis L. Sullivan,
J. Carrol Naish, Ward Bond, Shepperd Strudwick. [Catholicism]
Joan of Arc, 1899. See Jeanne d’Arc.
Joan of Arc at the Stake. See Giovanna d’Arco al rogo.
Joan of Arc of Loos, The, 1916. Dir. George Willoughby. Jane King, Jean
Robertson, Clive Farnham, Beatrice Esmond, Arthur Greenaway. [Australia;
Joan of Arc]
Joan of Ozark, 1942. Dir. Joseph Santley. Judy Canova, Joe E. Brown, Eddie
Foy, Jr., Jerome Cowan, Alexander Granach. [Joan of Arc]
Joan of Paris, 1942. Dir. Robert Stevenson. Michèle Morgan, Paul Henreid,
Thomas Mitchell, Laird Cregar, May Robson. [Joan of Arc]
 Appendix: Filmography | 513

Joan of Plattsburg, 1918. Dir. William Humphrey, George Loane Tucker. Mabel
Normand, Robert Elliott, William Frederic, Joseph W. Smiley, Edward Elkas.
[Joan of Arc]
Joan the Maid. See Mädchen Johanna, Das.
Joan the Woman, 1917. Dir. Cecil B DeMille. Geraldine Farrar, Raymond Hatton,
Hobart Bosworth, Theodore Roberts, Wallace Reid. [Catholicism; Joan of Arc]
Joe Versus the Volcano, 1990. Dir. John Patrick Shanley. Tom Hanks, Meg Ryan,
Lloyd Bridges, Robert Stack, Abe Vigoda, Dan Hedaya, Amanda Plummer,
Ossie Davis. [Indigenous Religions]
Jofroi (Ways of Love), 1933. Dir. Marcel Pagnol. Charles Blavette, Henry
Darbray, Édouard Delmont, Henri Poupon, Andre Robert. [THE MIRACLE
Controversy]
Johnny Mnemonic, 1996. Dir. Robert Longo. Keanu Reeves, Dina Meyer, Ice-T,
Takeshi Kitano, Dennis Akayama. [Posthumanism]
Jonah: A Veggie Tales Movie, 2002. Dir. Mike Nawrocki, Phil Vischer. Phil
Vischer, Mike Nawrocki, Tim Hodge, Lisa Vischer, Dan Anderson, Kristin
Blegen. [Animated Films]
Jonathan Livingston Seagull, 1973. Dir. Hall Bartlett. Phillip Ahn, Richard
Crenna, James Franciscus, Kelly Harmon, Hal Holbrook. [Mysticism]
Journal d’un curé de campange (Diary of a Country Priest), 1951. Dir. Robert
Bresson. Claude Laydu, Jean Riveyre, André Guilbert, Rachel Bérendt, Nicole
Maurey. [Bazin, André; Bresson, Robert; Clergy; Europe (Continental);
Theology and Film]
Joy Luck Club, The, 1993. Dir. Wayne Wang. Kieu Chinh, Tsai Chin, France
Nuyen, Lisa Lu, Ming-Na. [Buddhism]
Ju Dou, 1990. Dir. Fengliang Yang, Yimou Zhang. Ma Chong, Zhijun Cong,
Wu Fa, Li Gong, Jia Jin. [China]
Judgment, 2001. Dir. André van Heerden. Corbin Bernsen, Jessica Steen, Leigh
Lewis, Mr. T., Nick Mancuso. [End-of-the-World Films]
Jules and Jim, 1962. Dir. François Traffaut. Jeanne Moreau, Oskar Werner, Henri
Serre, Vanna Urbino, Boris Bassiak. [Traffaut, François]
Julien Donkey-Boy, 1999. Dir. Harmony Korine. Ewen Bremner, Brian Fisk,
Chloë Sevigny, Werner Herzog, Joyce Korine. [Dogme 95]
Juliet of the Spirits. See Guilietta degli spiriti.
Jumeaux de Brighton, Les, 1936. Dir. Claude Heymann. Raimu, Suzy Prim, Michel
Simon, Charlotte Lysès, Germaine Aussey, Jean Tissier. [Bresson, Robert]
Junge Törless, Der (Young Torless), 1966. Dir. Volker Schlöndorff. Mathieu
Carrière, Marian Seidowsky, Bern Tischer, Fred Dietz, Lotte Ledl. [Europe
(Continental)]
514 | Appendix: Filmography

Jungfrukallan (The Virgin Spring), 1960. Dir. Ingmar Bergman. Max von Sydow,
Birgitta Valberg, Gunnel Lindblom, Birgitta Pettersson, Axel Duberg. [Europe
(Continental)]

—K—
Kabhi Kushi Kabhie Gham (Sometimes Happiness, Sometimes Sorrow), 2001.
Dir. Karan Johar. Amitabh Bachchan, Jaya Bachchan, Shahrukh Khan, Hrithik
Roshan, Kajol, Kareena Kapoor. [Bollywood]
Kadosh, 1999. Dir. Amos Gitai. Yaël Abescassis, Yoram Hattab, Meital Barda,
Uri Klauzner, Yussuf Abu-Warda. [Judaism]
Kagemusha, 1980. Dir. Akira Kurosawa. Tatsuya Nakadai, Tsutomu Yamazaki,
Kenichi Hagiwara, Jinpachi Nezu, Hideji Otaki. [Kurosawa, Akira]
Kakushi-toride no san-akunin (The Hidden Fortress), 1958. Dir. Akira Kurosawa.
Toshirô Mifune, Misa Uehara, Minoru Chiaki, Kamatari Fujiwara, Takashi
Shimura. [Kurosawa, Akira]
Kaliya Mardan, 1919. Dir. Dhundiraj Govind Phalke. Neelkanth, Mandakini
Phalke. [Bollywood]
Kandahar. See Safar e Ghandehar.
Kashmir, 1951. Kamal Kapoor, Badri Prasad, Nirupa Roy, Achala Sachdev,
Sajjan. [Islam]
Kaze no tani no Naushika (Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind), 1984. Dir. Hayao
Miyazaki. Suma Shimamoto, Mahito Tsujimura, Hisako Kyôda, Gorô Naya,
Ichirô Nagai. [Miyazaki, Hayao]
Keeping the Faith, 2000. Dir. Edward Norton. Ben Stiller, Edward Norton, Jenna
Elfman, Anne Bancroft, Eli Wallach. [Clergy; Judaism; Ritual]
Keep Not Silent. See Et Sheaava Nafshi.
Keys of the Kingdom, The, 1944. Dir. John M. Stahl. Gregory Peck, Thomas
Mitchell, Vincent Price, Rose Stradner, Roddy McDowall. [Censorship in
Hollywood; Clergy]
Kid, The, 1921. Dir. Charles Chaplin. Carl Miller, Edna Purviance, Jackie
Coogan, Charles Chaplin. [Silent Film]
Kill Bill, 2003. Dir. Quentin Tarantino. Uma Thurman, Lucy Liu, Vivica A. Fox,
Daryl Hannah, David Carradine, Michael Madsen. [Tarantino, Quentin]
Kill Bill: Vol, 2, 2004. Dir. Quentin Tarantino. Uma Thurman, David Carradine,
Lucy Liu, Vivica A. Fox, Chia Hui Liu, Michael Madsen, Daryl Hannah.
[Tarantino, Quentin]
Kindred: The Embraced, 1996. Dir. John Leekley. Stacy Haiduk, Mark Frankel,
Kelly Rutherford, Patrick Bauchau, Brigid Brannagh. [Vampires]
Kingdom Come, 2001. Dir. Doug McHenry. LL Cool J, Jada Pinkett Smith,
Vivica A. Fox, Loretta Devine, Anthony Anderson, Toni Braxton, Cedric
 Appendix: Filmography | 515

the Entertainer, Darius McCrary, Whoppi Goldberg. [Black Church, The;

Protestantism]
King and I, The, 1956. Dir. Walter Lang. Deborah Kerr, Yul Brynner, Rita
Morena, Martin Benson, Terry Saunders. [Buddhism]
King and I, The, 1999. Dir. Richard Rich. Miranda Richardson, Christiane Noll,
Martin Vidnovic, Ian Richardson, Darrell Hammond. [Mormonism]
King of Comedy, The, 1983. Dir. Martin Scorsese. Robert De Niro, Jerry Lewis,
Diahnne Abbot, Sandra Bernhard, Shelly Hack. [Scorsese, Martin]
King of Kings, 1961. Dir. Nicholas Ray. Jeffrey Hunter, Siobhan McKenna, Hurd
Hatfield, Ron Randell, Viveca Lindfors. [Jesus]
King of Kings, The, 1927. Dir. Cecil B. DeMille. H.B. Warner, Dorothy
Cumming, Ernest Torrence, Joseph Schildkraut, James Neill. [Bible Films;
DeMille, Cecil B.; Jesus; Silent Film]
King Kong, 1933. Dir. Merian C. Cooper, Ernest B. Schoedsack. Fay Wray,
Robert Armstrong, Bruce Cabot, Frank Reicher, Sam Hardy. [Horror;
Indigenous Religions; Myth]
King Kong, 1976. Dir. John Gillermin. Jeff Bridges, Charles Grodin, Jessica Lange,
John Randolph, Rene Auberjoniois. [Horror; Indigenous Religions; Myth]
King Kong, 2005. Dir. Peter Jackson. Naomi Watts, Jack Black, Adrien Brody,
Thomas Krestchmann, Colin Hanks. [Horror; Indigenous Religions; Myth]
King Solomon’s Mines, 1985. Dir. J. Lee Thompson. Richard Chamberlain,
Sharon Stone, Herbert Lom, John Rhys-Davies. [Islam]
Kinsey, 2004. Dir. Bill Condon. Liam Neeson, Laura Linney, Chris O’Donnell,
Peter Sarsgaard, Timothy Hutton. [Censorship in Hollywood]
Kiss Me, Kate, 1953. Dir. George Sidney. Kathryn Grayson, Howard Keel, Ann
Miller, Keenan Wynn, Bobby Van, Tommy Rall, James Whitmore, Bob Fosse.
[Ritual]
Kiss Me, Stupid, 1964. Dir. Billy Wilder. Dean Martin, Kim Novak, Ray Walston,
Felicia Farr, Cliff Osmond. [Censorship in Hollywood]
Kiss of the Vampire, The, 1963. Dir. Don Sharp. Clifford Evans, Edward de
Souza, Noel Willman, Jennifer Daniel, Barry Warren. [Devil; Vampires]
Klann—Grand Guignol, 1969. Dir. Patrick Ledoux. Gabriel Cattand, Ursula
Kubler, Marie Signe Ledoux, David McNeil, Nathalie Vernier. [Joan of Arc]
Kôkaku kidôtai (Ghost in a Shell), 1995. Dir. Mamoru Oshii. Atsuko Tanaka, Akio
Ôtsuka, Tamio Ôki, Iemasa Kayumi, Kôichi Yamadera, Tesshô Genda. [Japan]
Körkarlen (The Phantom Carriage), 1921. Dir. Victor Sjöström. Victor Sjöström,
Hilda Borgström, Tore Svennberg, Astrid Holm, Concordia Selander.
[Mysticism]
Kosher Kitty Kelly, 1925. Dir. James W. Horne. Viola Dana, Tom Forman, Vera
Gordon, Kathleen Myers, Nat Carr. [Silent Film]
516 | Appendix: Filmography

Koyaanisqatsi (Also known as Koyaanisqatsi: Life Out of Balance), 1982.

Documentary. Dir. Godfrey Reggio. [Mysticism]
K-Pax, 2001. Dir. Iain Softley. Kevin Spacey, Jeff Bridges, Mary McCormack,
Alfre Woodward, David Patrick Kelly. [Mysticism]
Kravigi Gynaikon (A Dream of Passion), 1978. Dir. Jules Dassin. Melina
Mercouri, Ellen Burstyn, Costas Arzoglou, Savvas Axiotis, Katerina Bourlou,
Despo Diamantidou. [Greek and Roman Myths]
Krótki film o mil⁄ości (A Short Film About Love), 1988. Dir. Krzysztof
Kieś lowski. Grazyna Szapolowska, Olaf Lubaszenko, Stefania Iwinska, Piotr
Machalica, Artur Barcis. [Kieślowski, Krzysztof]
Krótki film o zabijaniu (A Short Film About Killing), 1988. Dir. Krzysztof
Kieślowski. Miroslaw Baka, Krzysztof Globisz, Jan Tesarz, Zbigniew
Zapasiewicz, Barbara Dziekan. [Kieślowski, Krzysztof]
Kumonosu jô (Throne of Blood), 1957. Dir. Akira Kurosawa. Toshirô Mifune,
Isuzu Yamada, Takashi Shimura, Akiro Kubo, Hiroshi Tachikawa. [Kurosawa,
Akira]
Kundun, 1997. Dir. Martin Scorsese. Tenzin Thuthob Tsarong, Gyurme Tethong,
Tulku Jamyang Kunga Tenzin, Tenzin Teshi Paichang, Tencho Gyalpo.
[Clergy; Mysticism; Ritual; Scorsese, Martin]
Kung Fu Hustle, 2004. Dir. Stephen Chow. Stephen Chow, Xiaogang Feng, Way
Yuen, Zhi Hua Dong, Kwok-Kwan Chan. [Buddhism]
Kuroi ame (Black Rain), 1989. Dir. Shohei Imamura. Yoshiko Tanaka, Kazuo
Kitamura, Etsuko Ichihara, Shoichi Ozawa, Morihei Miki. [Japan]
Kurtlar vadisi—Irak (Valley of the Wolves: Iraq), 2006. Dir. Serdar Akar,
Sadullah Sentürk. Necati Sasmaz, Billy Zane, Ghassan Massoud, Gürkan
Uygun, Bergüzar Korel. [Myth]

—L—
Ladies of the Bois de Bologne. See Dames du Bois de Boulogne, Les.
Ladri di biciclette (The Bicycle Thief), 1948. Dir. Vittorio De Sica. Lamberto
Maggiorani, Enzo Staiola, Lianella Carell, Gino Saltamerenda, Vittorio
Antonucci. [Censorship in Hollywood; Europe (Continental); THE MIRACLE
Controversy]
Ladykillers, The, 2004. Dir. Ethan Coen, Joel Coen. Tom Hanks, Irma P. Hall,
Marlon Wayans, J.K. Simmons, Tzi Ma. [Coen, Joel and Ethan]
Lair of the White Worm, The, 1988. Dir. Ken Russell. Amanda Donohoe, Hugh
Grant, Catherine Oxenberg, Peter Capaldi, Sammi Davis. [Vampires]
Lancelot du Lac (Lancelot of the Lake), 1974. Dir. Robert Bresson. Luc Simon,
Laura Duke Condominas, Humbert Balsan, Vladimir Antolek-Oresek, Patrick
Bernhard. [Bresson, Robert]
 Appendix: Filmography | 517

Lancelot of the Lake. See Lancelot du Lac.

Land Before Time, The, 1988. Dir. Don Bluth. Judith Barsi, Burke Byrnes,
Gabriel Damon, Bill Erwin, Pat Hingle. [Mormonism]
Land of the Dead, 2005. Dir. George A. Romero. Simon Baker, John Leguizamo,
Dennis Hopper, Asia Argento, Robert Joy. [Voodoo]
Land of the Minotaur. See Devil’s Men, The.
Land Without Bread. See Hurdes, Las.
Lanka Aflame. See Lanka Dahan.
Lanka Dahan (Lanka Aflame), 1917. Dir. Dhundiraj Govind Phalke. Anna
Salunke, Ganpat G. Shinde, D.D. Dabke, Mandakini Phakle. [Bollywood]
Lars and the Real Girl, 2007. Dir. Craig Gillespie. Ryan Gosling, Emily
Mortimer, Paul Schneider, Kelli Garner, Patricia Clarkson. [Protestantism]
Last Man on Earth, The, 1964. Dir. Ubaldo Ragona. Vincent Price, Franca
Bettoia, Emma Danieli, Giacomo Rossi-Stuart, Umberto Raho. [Vampires]
Last Metro, The. See dernier metro, Le.
Last Samurai, The, 2003. Dir. Edward Zwick. Ken Watanabe, Tom Cruise,
William Atherton, Chad Lindberg, Ray Godshall, Sr. [Buddhism]
Last Supper, The. See Última Cena, La.
Last Temptation of Christ, The, 1988. Dir. Martin Scorsese. Willem Dafoe,
Harvey Keitel, Paul Greco, Steve Shill, Verna Bloom, Barbara Hershey.
[Besson, Luc; Bible Films; Jesus; THE LAST TEMPTATION OF CHRIST
Controversy; Schrader, Paul; Scorsese, Martin; Women]
Last Wave, The, 1977. Dir. Peter Weir. Richard Chamberlain, Olivia Hamnett,
David Gulpilil, Frederick Parslow, Vivean Gray. [Australia; Mysticism]
Låt den rätte komma in (Let the Right One In), 2008. Dir. Tomas Alfredson. Kåre
Hedebrant, Lina Leandersson, Per Ragnar, Henrik Dahl, Karin Bergquist.
[Vampires]
Late Autumn. See Akibiyori.
Late Great Planet Earth, The, 1979. Documentary. Dir. Robert Amram, Rolf
Forsbert. Orson Welles. [End-of-the-World Films]
Late Spring. See Banshun.
Latter Days, 2003. Dir. C. Jay Cox. Steve Sandvoss, Wes Ramsey, Rebekah
Johnson, Amber Benson, Khary Payton. [Mormonism]
Leap of Faith, 1992. Dir. Richard Pearce. Steve Martin, Debra Winger, Lolita
Davidovitch, Liam Neeson, Lukas Haas. [Censorship in Hollywood; Clergy;
Ritual]
Leaves from Satan’s Book. See Blade af Satan’s Bog.
Left Behind: The Movie, 2000. Dir. Vic Sarin. Kirk Cameron, Brad Johnson,
Janaya Stephens, Clarence Gilyard, Jr., Colin Fox. [End-of-the-World Films;
Missionary Films; Protestantism]
518 | Appendix: Filmography

Left Behind II: Tribulation Force, 2002. Dir. Bill Corcoran. Kirk Cameron, Brad
Johnson, Clarence Gilyard, Jr., Janaya Stephens, Gordon Currie. [End-of-the-
World Films]
Left Behind: World at War, 2005. Dir. Craig R. Baxley. Louis Gossett, Jr., Kirk
Cameron, Brad Johnson, Jessica Steen, Gordon Currie. [End-of-the-World
Films]
The Left Hand of God, 1955. Dir. Edward Dmytryk. Humphrey Bogart, Gene
Tierney, Lee J. Cobb, Agnes Moorehead, E. G. Marshall. [Clergy]
Left Luggage, 1998. Dir. Jeroen Krabbé. Laura Fraser, Adam Monty, Isabella
Rossellini, Jeroen Krabbé, Topol. [Judaism]
Legend of Bagger Vance, The, 2000. Dir. Robert Redford. Will Smith, Matt
Damon, Charlize Theron, Bruce McGill, Joel Gretsch. [Hinduism; Sports]
Legend of Bailiff Sansho. See Sanshô dayû.
Legend of the Overfiend, The,. See Chôjin densetsu Urotsukidôji.
Legend of the 7 Golden Vampires, The, 1974. Dir. Roy Ward Baker. Peter
Cushing, David Chiang, Julie Ege, Robin Stewart, Szu Shih. [Vampires]
Lemora: A Child’s Tale of the Supernatural, 1973. Dir. Richard Blackburn.
Lesley Gilb, Cheryl Smith, William Whitton, Steve Johnson, Hy Pyke.
[Vampires]
Leni, 1994. Television. Dir. Leo Hiemer. Johannes Thanheiser, Johanna
Thanheiser, Christa Berndl, Martin Abram, Natalia Wörner. [Holocaust, The]
Léon (The Professional), 1994. Dir. Luc Besson. Jean Reno, Gary Oldman,
Natalie Portman, Danny Aiello, Peter Appel. [Besson, Luc]
Léon Morin, prêtre (The Forgiven Sinner), 1961. Dir. Jean-Pierre Melville. Jean-
Paul Belmondo, Emmanuelle Riva, Irene Tunc, Nicole Mirel, Gisele Grimm.
[Europe (Continental)]
Let The Right One In. See Låt den rätte komma in.
Let’s Have a Brainwash. See Ro.Go.Pa.G.
Lifeforce, 1985. Dir. Tobe Hooper. Steve Rialsbecack, Peter Firth, Frank Finlay,
Mathilda May, Patrick Stewart, Michael Gothard. [Vampires]
Life Is Beautiful. See Vita é bella, La.
Life Is to Whistle. See Vida es Silvar, La.
Life of Brian, 1979. Dir. Terry Jones. Graham Chapman, John Cleese, Terry
Gilliam, Eric Idle, Terry Jones, Michael Palin. [Bible Films; Britain;
Censorship in Hollywood; Jesus]
Life of Oharu, The. See Saikaku ichidai onna.
Life of Paul, 1949–1951. Dir. John T. Coyle. DeForest Kelley, Nelson Leigh.
[Missionary Films]
Lilies of the Field, 1963. Dir. Ralph Nelson. Sydney Poitier, Lilia Skala, Lisa
Mann, Isa Crino, Francesca Jarvis. [Catholicism; Clergy]
 Appendix: Filmography | 519

Liliom, 1934. Dir. Fritz Lang. Charles Boyer, Madeleine Ozeray, Florelle, Pierre
Alcover. [Devil]
Lion King, The,1994. Dir. Roger Allers, Rob Minkoff. Jonathan Taylor Thomas,
Mathew Broderick, James Earl Jones, Jeremy Irons, Moria Kelly, Niketa
Calame. [Animated Films]
Little Big Man, 1970. Dir. Arthur Penn. Dustin Hoffman, Faye Dunaway, Chief
Dan George, Martin Balsam, Richard Mulligan. [American Indian Religion;
Ritual]
Little Buddha, 1993. Dir. Bernardo Bertolucci. Keanu Reeves, Roucheng Ying,
Chris Isaak, Bridget Fonda, Alex Wiesendanger. [Censorship in Hollywood;
Clergy; Europe (Continental); Mysticism; Myth]
Little Caesar, 1931. Dir. Mervyn LeRoy. Edward G. Robinson, Douglas
Fairbanks, Jr., Glenda Farrell, William Collier, Jr., Sidney Blackmer.
[Catholicism]
Little Women, 1933. Dir. George Cukor. Katherine Hepburn, Joan Bennett, Paul
Lukas, Edna May Oliver, Jean Parker. [Ritual]
Little Women, 1949. Dir. Mervyn LeRoy. June Allyson, Peter Lawford,
Margaret O’Brien, Elizabeth Taylor, Janet Leigh, Rossano Brazzi, Mary
Astor. [Ritual]
Little Saints. See Santitos.
Live and Let Die, 1973. Dir. Guy Hamilton. Roger Moore, Yaphet Kotto, Jane
Seymour, Clifton James, Julius Harris. [Voodoo]
Living Christ, The, 1951–1957. Dir. John T. Coyle. John Alvin, Art Gilmore,
Lowell Gilmore, Eileen Rowe, Bing Russell, Peter Whitney, Robert Wilson,
Will Wright. [Missionary Films]
Living Dead, The. See Scotland Yard Mystery, The.
Lola rennt (Run Lola Run), 1998. Dir. Tom Tykwer. Franka Potente, Moritz
Bleibtreu, Herbert Knaup, Nina Petri, Armin Rohde. [Eucatastrophe]
Lolita, 1962. Dir. Stanley Kubrick. James Mason, Shelley Winters, Sue Lyon,
Gary Cockrell, Jerry Stovin. [Kubrick, Stanley]
Long Goodbye, The, 1973. Dir. Robert Altman. Elliott Gould, Nine Van Pallandt,
Sterling Hayden, Mark Rydell, Henry Gibson. [Altman, Robert]
Long Night’s Journey into Day, 2000. Documentary. Dir. Deborah Hoffman,
Frances Reid. Mary Burton, Pumla Gobodo-Madikizela, Mongezi Manqina,
Thapelo Mbelo, Robert McBride. [Africa]
Look What Happened to Rosemary’s Baby, 1976.Television. Dir. Sam O’Steen.
Stephen McHattie, Patty Duke, Broderick Crawford, Ruth Gordon, Lloyd
Haynes. [Devil]
Lord of the Rings, The: The Fellowship of the Ring, 2001. Dir. Peter Jackson.
Alan Howard, Noel Appleby, Sean Astin, Sala Baker, Sean Bean, Cate
520 | Appendix: Filmography

Blanchett, Orlando Bloom, Billy Boyd, Marton Csokas, Iam Holm,

Christopher Lee. [Eucatastrophe; Magic; Myth; Ritual]
Lord of the Rings, The: The Return of the King, 2003. Dir. Peter Jackson. Sean
Astin, Sean Bean, Cate Vlanchett, Orlando Bloom, Billy Boyd, Marton
Csokas, Bernard Hill. [Eucatastrophe; Magic; Myth; Ritual]
Lord of the Rings, The: The Two Towers, 2002. Dir. Peter Jackson. Sean Astin,
Sala Baker, Sean Bean, Cate Blanchett, Orlando Bloom, Billy Boyd, Jed
Brophy, Brad Dourif, Christopher Lee, Paris Howe Strewe, Bruce Allpress.
[Eucatastrophe; Magic; Myth; Ritual]
Lost Horizon, 1937. Dir. Frank Capra. Ronald Colman, Jane Wyatt, Edward
Everett Horton, John Howard, Thomas Mitchell, Margo. [Capra, Frank;
Clergy; Ritual]
Lost in Translation, 2003. Dir. Sofia Coppola. Scarlett Johansson, Bill Murray,
Akiko Takeshita, Kazuyoshi Minamimagoe, Kazuko Shibata. [Buddhism]
Love and Death, 1975. Dir. Woody Allen. Woody Allen, Diane Keaton, Georges
Adet, Frank Adu, Edmond Ardisson. [Allen, Woody]
Love at First Bite, 1979. Dir. Stan Dragoti. George Hamilton, Susan Saint James,
Richard Benjamin, Dick Shawn, Arte Johnson. [Vampires]
Love Eternal. See L’Éternel retour.
Love’s a Bitch. See Amores Perros.
Lower Depths, The. See Donzoko.
Luna Park, 1992. Dir. Pavel Lungin. Oleg Borisov, Andrei Gutin, Natalya
Yegorova, Nonna Mordyukova, Mikhail Golubovich. [Russia]
Luther, 2003. Dir. Eric Till. Joseph Fiennes, Jonathan Firth, Alfred Molina,
Claire Cox, Peter Ustinov, Bruno Ganz. [Protestantism]

—M—
Mad Max, 1979. Dir. George Miller. Mel Gibson, Joanne Samuel, Hugh Keays-
Byrne, Steve Bisley, Tim Burns. [End-of-the-World Films]
Mad Max 2 (also known as The Road Warrior), 1981. Dir. George Miller.
Mel Gibson, Bruce Spence, Michael Preston, Max Phipps, Vernon Wells.
[End-of-the-World Films]
Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome, 1985. Dir. George Miller, George Ogilvie.
Mel Gibson, Tina Turner, Bruce Spence, Adam Cockburn, Frank Thring.
[Australia; End-of-the-World Films; Indigenous Religions]
Madadayo, 1993. Dir. Akira Kurosawa. Tatsuo Matsumura, Kyôko Kagawa,
Hisashi Igawa, Jôji Tokoro, Masayuki Yui. [Kurosawa, Akira]
Mädchen Johanna, Das (Joan the Maid), 1935. Dir. Gustav Ucicky. Angela
Salloker, Gustaf Gründgens, Heinrich George, René Deltgen, Erich Ponto.
[Joan of Arc]
 Appendix: Filmography | 521

Madea Goes to Jail, 2009. Dir. Tyler Perry. Tyler Perry, Derek Luke, Keshia
Knight Pulliam, David Mann, Tamela J. Mann. [Clergy]
Magnolia, 1999. Dir. Paul Thomas Anderson. Julianne Moore, William H. Macy,
John C. Reily, Tom Cruise, Philip Baker Hall. [Belief]
Mahabharata, The, 1989. Dir. Peter Brook. Erika Alexander, Maurice Bénichou,
Amba Bihler, Lou Bihler, Urs Bihler. [Hinduism; Myth]
Major League, 1989. Dir. David S. Ward. Tom Berenger, Charlie Sheen, Corbin
Bernsen, Margaret Whitton, James Gammon. [Sports]
Mala educación, La (Bad Education), 2004. Dir. Pedro Almodóvar. Gael García
Bernal, Fele Martínez, Daniel Gimenez Cacho, Lluís Homar, Francisco
Maestree, Francisco Boira. [Europe (Continental)]
Malcolm X, 1992. Dir. Spike Lee. Denzel Washington, Angela Bassett, Albert
Hall, Al Freeman, Jr., Delroy Lindo, Spike Lee. [Ritual]
Mamma Roma, 1962. Dir. Pier Paolo Pasolini. Anna Magnani, Ettore Garofolo,
Franco Citti, Silvana Corsini, Luisa Loiano. [Europe (Continental); Pasolini,
Paolo]
Man Bites Dog. See C’est arrivé pres de chez vous.
A Man Called Horse, 1970. Dir. Elliot Silverstein. Richard Harris, Judith Anderson,
Jean Gascon, Manu Tupou, Corinna Tsopei. [American Indian Religion; Ritual]
Man Called Peter, A, 1955. Dir. Henry Koster. Richard Todd, Jean Peters,
Marjorie Rambeau, Jill Esmond, Les Tremayne. [Clergy; Protestantism]
Man Escaped, A, or The Wind Bloweth Where it Listeth. See condamné à mort
s’est échappé, Un, ou vent soufflé où il veut, Le.
Man for All Seasons, A, 1966. Dir. Fred Zinnemann. Paul Scofield, Wendy Hiller,
Leo McKern, Robert Shaw, Orson Welles, Susannah York, Nigel Davenport,
John Hurt. [Clergy]
Man from Kangaroo, The, 1920. Dir. Wilfred Lucas. Rex “Snowy” Baker, Agnes
Vernon, Charles Villiers, Wilfred Lucas, Walter Vincent. [Australia]
Manderlay, 2005. Dir. Lars von Trier. Bryce Dallas Howard, Isaach De Bankolé,
Danny Glover, Willem Dafoe, Michaël Abiteboul, Lauren Bacall. [Trier,
Lars von]
Manhattan, 1979. Dir. Woody Allen. Woody Allen, Diane Keaton, Michael
Murphy, Mariel Hemingway, Meryl Streep. [Allen, Woody]
Manoir du diable, Le (Manor of the Devil), 1896. Dir. Georges Méliès. Jeanne
d’Alcy, Georges Méliès. [Devil]
Manor of the Devil. See Manoir du diable, Le.
Manos: The Hands of Fate, 1966. Dir. Harold Warren. Tom Neyman, John
Reynolds, Diane Mahree, Harold P. Warren, Stephanie Nielson. [Devil]
Man They Could Not Hang, The, 1939. Dir. Nick Grinde. Boris Karloff, Lorna
Gray, Robert Wilcox, Roger Pryor, Don Beddoe. [Voodoo]
522 | Appendix: Filmography

Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, The, 1962. Dir. John Ford. John Wayne,
James Stewart, Vera Miles, Lee Marvin, Edmond O’Brien, Andy Devine,
Ken Murray, John Carradine. [Westerns]
Man Who Sued God, The, 2001. Dir. Mark Joffe. Billy Connolly, Judy Davis,
Colin Friels, Wendy Hughes, Bille Brown. [Australia]
Man Who Wasn’t There, The, 2001. Dir. Joel Coen. Billy Bob Thronton, Frances
McDormand, Michael Budalucco, James Gandolfini, Katherine Borowitz,
Jon Polio, Scarlett Johansson. [Coen, Joel and Ethan]
Mar adentro (The Sea Inside), 2004. Dir. Alejandro Amenabar. Javier
Bardem, Belen Rueda, Lola Denuas, Mabel Rivera, Ceslo Bugallo. [Europe
(Continental)]
Married to a Mormon, 1922. Dir. H. B. Parkinson. Evelyn Brent, Clive Brook,
George Wynn, Booth Conway, Molly Adair. [Mormonism]
Marry Me! Marry Me! See Mazel Tov ou le marriage.
Marvelous Visit, The. See Merveilleuse visite, La.
M*A*S*H, 1970. Dir. Robert Altman. Donald Sutherland, Elliott Gould, Tom
Skerrit, Sally Kellerman, Robert Duvall, Roger Bowen, Rene Auberjonois,
Gary Burghoff, Michael Murphy. [Altman, Robert; Clergy]
al-Masir (Destiny), 1997. Dir. Youssef Chahine. Nour El-Sherif, Laila Eloui,
Mahmoud Hemida, Safia El Emari, Mohamed Mounir. [Africa; Arab
Film]
Mass Appeal, 1984. Dir. Glenn Jordan. Jack Lemmon, Zeljko Ivanek, Charles
Durning, Louise Latham, Alice Hirson. [Clergy]
Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World, 2003. Dir. Peter Weir.
Russell Crowe, Paul Bettany, James D’Arcy, Edward Woodall, Chris Larkin.
[Ritual]
Match Point, 2005. Dir. Woody Allen. Jonathan Rhys Meyers, Alexander
Armstrong, Paul Kaye, Matthew Goode, Brian Cox. [Allen, Woody]
Matrix, The, 1999. Dir. Andy Wachowski, Larry Wachowski. Keanu Reeves,
Laurence Fishburne, Carrie-Anne Moss, Hugo Weaving, Gloria Foster, Joe
Pantoliano. [End-of-the-World Films; Eucatastrophe; Film as Religion; THE
MATRIXTrilogy;Mysticism;Myth;Posthumanism;ScienceFiction;Theology
and Film]
Matrix Reloaded, The, 2003. Dir. Andy Wachowski, Larry Wachowski. Keanu
Reeves, Laurence Fishburne, Carrie-Anne Moss, Hugo Weaving, Gloria
Foster, Joe Pantoliano Ray Anthony, Christine Anu, Andy Arness. [End-of-
the-World Films; Film as Religion; THE MATRIX Trilogy; Mysticism; Myth;
Posthumanism; Science Fiction]
Matrix Revolutions, The, 2003. Dir. Andy Wachowski, Larry Wachowski. Keanu
Reeves, Laurence Fishburne, Carrie-Anne Moss, Hugo Weaving, Gloria
 Appendix: Filmography | 523

Foster, Joe Pantoliano Ray Anthony. [Bible Films; End-of-the-World Films;

Film as Religion; THE MATRIX Trilogy; Mysticism; Myth; Posthumanism;
Science Fiction]
Matter of Life and Death, A (also known as Stairway to Heaven), 1946.
Dir. Michael Powell, Emeric Pressburger. David Niven, Kim Hunter, Robert
Coote, Kathleen Byrom, Richard Attenborough. [Heaven; Mysticism]
Mazel Tov ou le marriage (Marry Me! Marry Me!), 1969. Dir. Claude Berri.
Claude Berri, Elisabeth Wiener, Prudence Harrington, Betsy Blair, Louisa
Colpeyn. [Europe (Continental)]
McCabe & Mrs, Miller, 1971. Dir. Robert Altman. Warren Beatty, Julie Christie,
Rene Auberjonois, William Devane, John Schuck, Corey Fischer, Shelly
Duvall, Keith Carradine, Michael Murphy. [Altman, Robert]
Mean Streets, 1973. Dir. Martin Scorsese. Robert De Niro, Harvey Keitel, David
Proval, Amy Robinson, Richard Romanus. [Scorsese, Martin]
Medea, 1969. Dir. Pier Paolo Pasolini. Maria Callas, Massimo Girotti, Laurent
Terzieff, Giuseppe Gentile, Margareth Clémenti. [Greek and Roman Myths]
Medea, 1988. Dir. Lars von Trier. Udo Kier, Kirsten Olesen, Henning Jensen,
Solbjørg Højfeldt, Preben Lerdorff Rye. [Trier, Lars von]
Meet John Doe, 1941. Dir. Frank Capra. Gary Cooper, Barbara Stanwyck,
Edward Arnold, Walter Brennan, Spring Byington. [Capra, Frank]
Meet Me in St, Louis, 1944. Dir. Vincent Minnelli. Judy Garland, Margaret
O’Brien, Mary Astor, Lucille Bremer, Leon Ames. [Ritual]
Megiddo: The Omega Code 2, 2001. Dir. Brian Trenchard-Smith. Michael York,
Michael Biehn, Joseph Makkar, Guy Siner, Diane Venora. [End-of-the-World
Films]
Melvin and Howard, 1980. Dir. Jonathan Demme. Jason Robards, Paul Le Mat,
Elizabeth Cheshire, Mary Steenburgen, Chip Taylor. [Mormonism]
Men Who Tread on the Tiger’s Tail, The. See Tora no o wo fumu otokotachi.
Mercedes, 1993. Dir. Yousry Nasrallah. Zaki Abdel Wahab, Taheya Cariocca,
Seif El Dine, Ahmad Kamal, Magdy Kamel. [Arab Film]
Merveilleuse vie de Jeanne d’Arc, La (Saint Joan the Maid), 1929. Dir. Marco de
Gastyne. Simone Genevois, Fernand Mailly, Georges Paulais, Jean Debucourt,
Philippe Hériat. [Joan of Arc]
Merveilleuse visite, La (The Marvelous Visit), 1974. Dir. Marcel Carne. Gilles
Kohler, Roland Lesaffre, Debra Berger, Lucien Barjon, Mary Marquet, Yves
Barsacq. [Europe (Continental)]
Meschugge (Don’t), 1998. Dir. Dani Levy. Maria Schrader, Dani Levy, David
Strathairn, Nichole Heesters, Jeffrey Wright. [Europe (Continental)]
Meshes of the Afternoon, 1943. Dir. Maya Deren, Alexander Hammid. Maya
Deren, Alexander Hammid. [Mysticism]
524 | Appendix: Filmography

Message, The, 1976. Dir. Moustapha Akkad. Anthony Quinn, Irene Papas,
Michael Ansara, Johnny Sekka, Michael Forest. [Animated Films; Islam]
Messenger: The Story of Joan of Arc, The, 1999. Dir. Luc Besson. Milla
Jovovich, Dustin Hoffman, Faye Dunaway, John Malkovich, Vincent Cassel.
[Besson, Luc; Europe (Continental); Joan of Arc; Ritual]
Messers, Lumière at Card, The. See Partie de cartes.
Metropolis, 1927. Dir. Fritz Lang. Alfred Abel, Gustav Frohlich, Rudolf
Klein-Rogge, Fritz Rasp, Theodor Loos. [End-of-the-World Films; Myth;
Posthumanism; Science Fiction]
Metropolis. See Metoroporisu.
Metoroporisu (Metropolis), 2001. Dir. Rintaro. Yuka Imoto, Kei Kobayashi,
Kouki Okada, Jamieson Price. [Japan]
Midnight Express, 1978. Dir. Alan Parker. Brad Davis, Irene Miracle,
Bo Hopkins, Paolo Bonacelli, Paul L. Smith. [Islam]
Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, 1997. Dir. Clint Eastwood. John
Cusack, Kevin Spacey, Jack Thompson, Irma P. Hall, Jude Law. [Ritual]
Milky Way, The. See voie lactée, Le.
Miller’s Crossing, 1990. Dir. Joel Coen. Gabriel Byrne, Marcia Gay Harden,
John Turturro, John Polio, J.E. Freeman. [Coen, Joel and Ethan]
Minority Report, 2002. Dir. Steven Spielberg. Tom Cruise, Max von Sydow,
Steve Harris, Neal McDonough, Patrick Kilpatrick, Jessica Capshaw.
[Dystopia; Protestantism; Science Fiction]
Minotaur, The. See Teseo contro il minotauro.
Miracle in Milan. See Miracolo a Milano.
Miracle, The. See Miracolo, Il.
Miracle of the Bells, The, 1948. Dir. Irving Pichel. Fred MacMurray, Alida Valli,
Frank Sinatra, Lee J. Cobb, Harold Vermilyea, Charles Meredith. [Clergy]
Miracle Man, The, 1919. Dir. George Loane Tucker. Lon Chaney, Betty Compson,
Joseph J. Dowling, J.M. Dumont, Elinor Fair, Thomas Meighan. [Silent Film]
Miracle of Our Lady of Fatima, The, 1952, Dir. John Brahm. Susan Whitney,
Sherry Jackson, Carl Milletair, Sammy Ogg, Gilbert Roland. [Catholicism]
Miracle on 34th Street, 1947. Dir. George Seaton. Maureen O’Hara, John Payne,
Edmund Gwenn, Gene Lockhart, Natalie Wood. [Ritual]
Miracle Woman, The, 1931. Dir. Frank Capra. Barbara Stanwyck, David
Manners, Sam Hardy, Beryl Mercer, Russell Hopton. [Clergy]
Miracle Worker, The. See Chudotvornaya.
Miracolo, Il (The Miracle), 1948. Dir. Roberto Rossellini. Anna Magnani, Sylvia
Bataille, Lia Corelli, Federico Fellini, Gabrielle Fontan. [Censorship in
Hollywood; Europe (Continental); Fellini, Federico; THE MIRACLE
CONTROVERSY]
 Appendix: Filmography | 525

Miracolo a Milano (Miracle in Milan), 1951. Dir. Vittorio De Sica. Emma

Gramatica, Francesco Golisano, Paolo Stoppa, Guglielmo Barnabò, Brunella
Bovo. [Europe (Continental)]
Mirror, The. See Zerkalo.
Misery, 1990. Dir. Rob Reiner. James Caan, Kathy Bates, Richard Farnsworth,
Frances Sternhagen, Lauren Bacall. [Belief]
Mission, The, 1986. Dir. Roland Joffe. Robert De Niro, Jeremy Irons,
Ray McAnally, Aidan Quinn, Cherie Lunghi, Ronald Pickup. [Britain;
Catholicism; Clergy]
Mission: Impossible II, 2000. Dir. John Woo. Tom Cruise, Dougray Scott,
Thandie Newton, Ving Rhames, Richard Roxburgh. [Tolkin, Michael]
Mississippi Mermaid. See Sirene du Mississippi, La.
Moment of Innocence, A. See Nun va Goldoon.
Monanieba (Repentance), 1984. Dir. Tengiz Abuladze. Avtandil Makharadze,
Ya Ninidze, Zeinab Botsvadze, Ketevan Abuladze, Edisher Giorgobiani. [Russia]
Monday’s Girls, 1993. Documentary. Dir. Ngozi Onwurah. [Women]
Money. See L’Argent.
Mononoke Hime (Princess Mononoke), 1997. Dir. Hayao Miyazaki. Yôji
Matsuda, Yuriko Ishida, Yûko Tanaka, Kaoru Kobayashi, Masahiko
Nishimura. [Japan; Miyazaki, Hayao]
Monsieur Vincent, 1947. Dir. Maurice Cloche. Pierre Fresnay, Aime Clairond,
Jean Debuourt, Lise Delamare. [Europe (Continental)]
Monsignor, 1982. Dir. Frank Perry. Christopher Reeve, Geneviève Bujold,
Fernando Rey, Jason Miller, Joseph Cortese. [Clergy]
Monsoon Wedding, 2001. Dir. Mira Nair. Naseeruddin Shah, Lillete Dubey,
Shefali Shetty, Vijay Raaz, Tilotama Shome. [Hinduism; Ritual]
Monty Python and the Holy Grail, 1975. Dir. Terry Gilliam, Terry Jones. Graham
Chapman, John Cleese, Eric Idle, Terry Gilliam, Terry Jones. [Gilliam, Terry;
Ritual]
Moonlight. See Chandni.
Mormon Maid, A, 1917. Dir. Robert Z. Leonard. Mae Murray, Frank Borzage,
Hobart Bosworth, Edythe Chapman, Noah Beery. [Mormonism]
Moslem, A. See Musulmanin.
Mother and the Law, The, 1919. Dir. D. W. Griffith. Mae Marsh, Robert Harron,
Miriam Cooper, Vera Lewis, Sam De Grasse. [Catholicism]
Mouchette, 1967. Dir. Robert Bresson. Nadine Nortier, Jean-Claude Guilbert,
Marie Cardinal, Paul Hebert, Jean Vimenet. [Bresson, Robert]
Mr. Deeds Goes to Town, 1936. Dir. Frank Capra. Gary Cooper, Jean Arthur,
George Bancroft, Lionel Stander, Douglass Dubrille, Raymond Walburn.
[Capra, Frank]
526 | Appendix: Filmography

Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, 1938. Dir. Frank Capra. Jean Arthur, James
Stewart, Claude Rains, Edward Arnold, Guy Kibbee. [Capra, Frank]
al-Muhajir (The Emigrant), 1994. Dir. Youssef Chahine. Ahmed Bedir, Safia
El Emari, Mahmoud Hemida, Yousef Ismail, Khaled Habawy. [Africa;
Arab Film]
Muhammad: The Last Prophet, 2004. Dir. Richard Rich. Eli Allem. [Animated
Films]
Mulan, 1998. Dir. Tony Bancroft, Barry Cook. Miguel Ferrer, Harvey Fierstein,
Freda Foh Shen, June Foray, James Hong. [Animated Films; Buddhism]
Mulan 2, 2004. Dir. Darrell Rooney, Lynne Southerland. Ming-Na, B. D. Wong,
Mark Moseley, Lucy Liu, Harvey Fierstein. [Buddhism]
Mummy, The, 1999. Dir. Stephen Sommers. Brendan Fraser, Rachel Weisz, John
Hannah, Arnold Vosloo, Kevin J. O’Connor. [Horror]
Music Man, The, 1962. Dir. Morton DaCosta. Robert Preston, Shirley Jones,
Buddy Hackett, Hermione Gingold, Paul Ford, Ron Howard. [Ritual]
Musulmanin (A Moslem), 1995. Dir. Vladimir Khotinenko. Yevgeni Mironov,
Aleksandr Baluyev, Nina Usatova. [Russia]
My Big Fat Greek Wedding, 2002. Dir. Joel Zwick. Nia Vardalos, Michael
Constantine, Christina Eleusiniotis, Kaylee Vieira, John Kalangis, Lainie
Kazan. [Ritual]
My Fair Lady, 1964. Dir. George Cukor. Audrey Hepburn, Rex Harrison, Stanley
Holloway, Wilfrid Hyde-White, Gladys Cooper. [Ritual]
My Name Is Ivan. See Ivanovo Destvo.
My Neighbor Totoro. See Tonari no Totoro.
My Son the Fanatic, 1997. Dir. Udayan Prasad. Om Puri, Rachel Griffiths, Akbar
Kurtha, Stellen Skargard, Gopi Desai. [Britain; Islam]
Mystic Masseur, 2001. Dir. Ismail Merchant. Om Puri, Aasif Mandvi, Ayesha
Dharker, Jimi Mistry, Sanjeev Bhaskar. [Hinduism]

—N—
Nacho Libre, 2006. Dir. Jared Hess. Jack Black, Ana de la Reguera, Héctor
Jiménez, Darius Rose, Moises Arias. [Clergy]
Nadja, 1994. Dir. Michael Almereyda. Elina Lowensohn, Nic Ratner, Karl
Geary, Peter Fonda, Martin Donovan. [Vampires]
Name der Rose, Der (The Name of the Rose), 1986. Dir. Jean-Jacques Annaud.
Sean Connery, Christian Slater, Helmut Qualtinger, Elya Baskin, Michael
Lonsdale. [Europe (Continental)]
Name of the Rose, The. See Name der Rose, Der.
Napoleon Dynamite, 2004. Dir. Jared Hess. Jon Heder, Jon Gries, Aaron Ruell,
Efren Ramirez, Diedrich Bader. [Mormonism]
 Appendix: Filmography | 527

Naqoyqatsi: Life as War, 2002. Documentary. Dir. Godfrey Reggio. [Mysticism]

Nashville, 1975. Dir. Robert Altman. David Arkin, Barbara Baxley, Ned Beatty,
Karen Black, Ronee Blakley, Timothy Brown, Keith Carradine, Shelley
Duvall, Scott Glenn, Jeff Goldblum. [Altman, Robert]
National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation, 1989. Dir. Jeremiah S. Chechik. Chevy
Chase, Beverly D’Angelo, Juliette Lewis, Johnny Galecki, John Randolph.
[Holidays]
Nativity, The, 1987. Dir. Don Lusk. Gregory Harrison, Helen Hunt, Vincent
Price, David Ackroyd, Roscoe Lee Browne. [Holidays]
Nativity Story, The, 2006. Dir. Catherine Hardwicke. Keisha Castle-Hughes,
Oscar Isaac, Hiam Abbass, Shaun Toub, Ciarán Hinds. [Holidays]
Nattvardsgästerna (Winter Light), 1962. Dir. Ingmar Bergman. Ingrid Thulin,
Gunnar Björnstrand, Gunnel Lindblom, Max von Sydow, Allan Edwall.
[Clergy; Europe (Continental)]
Natural, The, 1984. Dir. Barry Levinson. Robert Redford, Glenn Close, Kim
Basinger, Wilford Brimley, Barbara Hershey. [Sports]
Natural Born Killers, 1994. Dir. Oliver Stone. Woody Harelson, Juliette
Lewis, Tom Sizemore, Rodney Dangerfield, Everett Quinton. [Tarantino,
Quentin]
Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind. See Kaze no tani no Naushika.
Nazarín, 1959. Dir. Luis Buñuel. Francisco Rabel, Marga López, Rita Macedo,
Jesús Fernández, Ignacio López Tarso. [Buñuel, Luis; Europe (Continental)]
Neon Bible, The, 1995. Dir. Terence Davies. Jacob Tierney, Drake Bell, Gena
Rowlands, Diana Scarwid, Denis Leary. [Protestantism]
Net, The, 1995. Dir. Irwin Winkler. Sandra Bulock, Jeremy Northam, Dennis
Miller, Diane Baker, Wendy Gazelle, Ken Howard. [Posthumanism]
Never Say Never Again, 1983. Dir. Irvin Kershner. Sean Connery, Klaus Maria
Brandauer, Max von Sydow, Barbara Carrera, Kim Basinger. [Islam]
New Age, The, 1994. Dir. Michael Tolkin. Peter Weller, Judy Davis, Patrick
Bauchau, Rachel Rosenthal, Adam West. [Tolkin, Michael]
New York Hat, The, 1912. Dir. D. W. Griffith. Mary Pickford, Charles Hill
Mailes, Kate Bruce, Lionel Barrymore, Alfred Paget. [Clergy; Silent Film]
New York, New York, 1977. Dir. Martin Scorsese. Liza Minnelli, Robert De Niro,
Lionel Stander, Barry Primus, Mary Kay Place. [Scorsese, Martin]
Night of the Hunter, 1955. Dir. Charles Laughton. Robert Mitchum, Shelley
Winters, Lillian Gish, James Gleason, Evelyn Varden. [Clergy]
Night of the Iguana, 1964. Dir. John Huston. Richard Burton, Ava Gardner,
Deborah Kerr, Sue Lyon, Skip Ward. [Clergy]
Night of the Living Dead, 1968. Dir. George A. Romero. Duane Jones, Judith
O’Dea, Karl Hardman, Marilyn Eastman, Keith Wayne. [Horror; Voodoo]
528 | Appendix: Filmography

Nightmare Before Christmas, The, 1993. Dir. Henry Selick. Danny Elfman, Chris
Sarandon, Catherine O’Hara, William Hickey, Glenn Shadix. [Holidays]
Nights of Cabiria, The. See Notti de Cabiria, La.
1984, 1956. Dir. Michael Anderson. Edmond O’Brien, Michael Redgrave, Jan
Sterling, David Kossoff, Mervyn Johns. [Dystopia]
Nineteen Eighty-Four, 1984. Dir. Michael Radford. John Hurt, Richard Burton,
Suzanna Hamilton, Cyril Cusack, Gregor Fisher. [Dystopia]
Ninth Gate, The, 1999. Dir. Roman Polanski. Johnny Depp, Frank Langella,
Lena Olin, Emmanuelle Seigner, Barbara Jefford. [Europe (Continental)]
Nirgendwo in Afrika (Nowhere in Africa), 2001. Dir. Caroline Link. Juliane
Kohler, Merab Ninidze, Sidede Onyulo, Matthias Habich, Lea Kurka.
[Judaism]
No Country for Old Men, 2007. Dir. Ethan Coen, Joel Coen. Tommy Lee
Jones, Javier Bardem, Josh Brolin, Woody Harrelson, Kelly Macdonald,
Garret Dillahunt, Tess Harper, Barry Corbin, Stephen Root. [Coen, Joel and
Ethan]
No End. See Bez konca.
Nocturne, 1980. Dir. Lars von Trier. Yvette, Solbjørg Højfeldt, Anne-Lise
Gabold. [Trier, Lars von]
Nosferatu, eine Symphonie des Grauens (Nosferatu the Vampire), 1922.
Dir. F.W. Murnau. Max Schreck, Gustav von Wangenheim, Greta Schoder,
Alexander Granach, Georg H. Schnell. [Horror; Vampires]
Nosferatu: Phantom der Nacht (Nosferatu the Vampyre), 1979. Dir. Werner
Herzog. Klaus Kinski, Isabelle Adjani, Bruno Ganz, Roland Topor, Walter
Ladengast. [Vampires]
Nosferatu the Vampire. See Nosferatu, eine Symphonie des Grauens.
Nosferatu the Vampyre. See Nosferatu: Phantom der Nacht.
Nostalghia (Nostalgia), 1983. Dir. Andrei Tarkovsky. Oleg Yankovsky, Erland
Josephson, Domiziana Giordano, Patrizia Terreno, Laura De Marchi. [Russia;
Tarkovsky, Andrei]
Nostalgia. See Nostalghia.
Notti de Cabiria, La (The Nights of Cabiria), 1957. Dir. Federico Fellini.
Giulietta Masina, Francois Perier, Franca Marzi, Dorian Gray, Aldo Silvani.
[Fellini, Federico; Pasolini, Paolo]
Not Without My Daughter, 1991. Dir. Brian Gilbert. Sally Field, Alfred Molina,
Sheila Rosenthal, Roshan Seth, Sarah Badel. [Islam]
Nowhere in Africa. See Nirgendwo in Afrika.
Nuit américaine, La (Day for Night), 1973. Dir. Françiois Truffaut. Jacqueline
Bisset, Valentina Cortese, Dani, Alexandra Stewart, Jean-Pierre Aumont.
[Truffaut, Françiois]
 Appendix: Filmography | 529

Nun, The. See religieuse, La.

Nun’s Story, The, 1959. Dir. Fred Zinnemann. Audrey Hepburn, Peter Finch,
Edith Evans, Peggy Ashcroft, Dean Jagger. [Catholicism]
Nuovo cinema Paradiso (Cinema Paradiso), 1988. Dir. Giuseppe Tornatore.
Antonella Attili, Enzo Cannavale, Isa Danieli, Leo Gullotta, Marco Leonardi.
[Clergy]
Nurse Betty, 2000. Dir. Neil LaBute. Morgan Freeman, Renée Zellweger, Chris
Rock, Greg Kinnear, Aaron Eckhart, Tia Texada, Crispin Glover, Allison
Janney. [Mormonism]
Nutty Professor, The, 1996. Dir. Tom Shadyac. Eddie Murphy, Jada Pinkett
Smith, James Coburn, Larry Miller, Dave Chappelle. [Myth]

—O—
O Brother, Where Art Thou?, 2000. Dir. Joel Coen. George Clooney, John
Turturo, Tim Blake Nelson, John Goodman, Holly Hunter, Christ Thomas
King. [Coen, Joel and Ethan; Eucatastrophe; Greek and Roman Myth;
Posthumanism; Ritual]
October. See Oktyabr.
Odyssey, The, 1997. Television. Dir. Andrei Konchalovsky. Armand Assante,
Greta Scacchi, Isabella Rossellini, Bernadette Peters, Eric Roberts. [Greek
and Roman Myth]
Oedipus Rex. See Edipo Re.
Offret (The Sacrifice), 1986. Dir. Andrei Tarkovsky. Erland Josephson, Susan
Fleetwood, Tommy Kjellqvist, Allan Edwall, Gudrún Gísladóttir. [Russia;
Tarkovsky, Andrei]
Ogre, The. See Unhold, Der.
Oh, God! 1977. Dir. Carl Reiner. George Burns, John Denver, Teri Garr, Paul
Sorvino. [God]
Oh, God! Book II, 1980. Dir. Gilbert Cates. George Burns, Louanne Sirota,
David Birney, Suzanne Pleshette, Anthony Holland. [God]
Oktyabr (October), 1928. Dir. Grigori Aleksandrov, Sergei M. Eisenstein.
Vladimir Popov, Vasili Nikandrov, Layaschenko. [Russia]
Omega Code, The, 1999. Dir. Robert Marcarelli. Casper Van Dien, Michael York,
Catherine Oxenberg, Michael Ironside, Jan Triska. [End-of-the-World Films;
Missionary Films]
Omen, The, 1976. Dir. Richard Donner. Gregory Peck, Lee Remick, David
Warner, Billie Whitelaw, Harvey Stephens. [Catholicism; Clergy; Devil;
End-of-the-World Films; Horror; Mysticism]
Omen II. See Damien: Omen II.
Omen III: The Final Conflict. See Final Conflict, The.
530 | Appendix: Filmography

Omen IV: The Awakening, 1991. Television. Dir. Jorge Montesi, Dominique
Othenin-Girard. Faye Grant, Michael Woods, Michael Lerner, Madison
Mason, Ann Hearn. [Clergy; End-of-the-World Films]
On the Beach, 1959. Dir. Stanley Kramer. Gregory Peck, Ava Gardner, Fred
Astaire, Anthony Perkins, Donna Anderson, John Tate. [End-of-the-World
Films; Protestantism]
On the Waterfront, 1954. Dir. Elia Kazan. Marlon Brando, Karl Malden, Lee J.
Cobb, Rod Steiger, Pat Henning. [Clergy]
Once Upon a Time in America,1984. Dir. Sergio Leone. Robert De Niro,
James Woods, Elizabeth McGovern, Tuesday Weld, Treat Williams. [Leone,
Sergio]
Once Upon a Time in China II. See Wong Fei Hung II: Naam yi dong ji keung.
Once Upon a Time in the West. See C’era una volta il West.
One Foot in Heaven, 1941. Dir. Irving Rapper. Fredric March, Martha Scott,
Beulah Bondi, Gene Lockhart, Elisabeth Fraser. [Clergy]
One Man’s Way, 1964. Dir. Denis Sanders. Don Murray, Diana Hyland, William
Windom, Virginia Christine, Carol Ohmart. [Clergy]
Order, The, 2003. Dir. Brian Helgeland. Heath Ledger, Shannyn Sossamon,
Benno Furmann, Mark Addy, Peter Weller. [Horror; Mysticism]
Ordet (The Word), 1955. Dir. Kaj Munk, Carl Theodor Dreyer. Hanne Agesen,
Kristen Andresen, Sylvia Eckhausen, Birgiette Federspiel, Enjer Federspiel.
[Clergy; Dreyer, Carl Theodor; Europe (Continental)]
Orgazmo, 1997. Dir. Trey Parker. Trey Parker, Dian Bachar, Robyn Lynne Raab,
Michael Dean Jacobs, Ron Jeremy. [Mormonism]
orgía de los muertos, La (Terror of the Living Dead, also known as The Hanging
Woman), 1973. Dir. José Luis Merino. Stelvio Rosi, Maria Pia Conte, Dyanik
Zurakowska, Pasquale Basile, Gérard Tichy. [Devil]
Orizuru Osen (The Downfall of Osen), 1935. Dir. Kenji Mizoguchi. Isuzu
Yamada, Daijirô Natsukawa, Mitsusaburô Ramon, Genichi Fuji, Shin Shibata.
[Mizoguchi, Kenji]
Orphée (Orpheus), 1950. Dir. Jean Cocteau. Jean Marais, Francois Perier, Maria
Casares, Marie Dea, Henri Cremieux. [Greek and Roman Myth; Mysticism]
Orpheus. See Orphée.
Oscar and Lucinda, 1997. Dir. Gillian Armstrong. Ralph Fiennes, Cate
Blanchett, Ciarán Hinds, Tom Wilkinson, Richard Roxburgh. [Australia]
Ososhiki (The Funeral), 1984. Dir. Juzo Itami. Tsutomu Yamazaki, Nobuko
Miyamoto, Kin Sugai, Hideji Otaki. [Japan]
Ostrov (The Island), 2006. Dir. Pavel Lungin. Pyotr Mamonov, Viktor
Sukhorukov, Dmitri Dyuzhev, Yuri Kuznetsov, Viktoriya Isakova, Nina
Usatova. [Russia]
 Appendix: Filmography | 531

Otets Sergiy (Father Sergius), 1917. Dir. Yakov Protazanov, Alexandre Volkoff.
Ivan Mozzhukhin, Olga Kondorova, V. Dzheneyeva, Vladimir Gajdarov,
Nikolai Panov. [Russia]
Others, The, 2001. Dir. Alejandro Amenabar. Nicole Kidman, Fionnula Flanagan,
Christopher Eccleston, Alakina Mann, James Bentley. [Europe (Continental)]
Ouanga, 1936. Dir. George Terwilliger. Fredi Washington, Philip Brandon,
Marie Paxton, Sheldon Leonard, Winifred Harris. [Voodoo]
Our Lady of the Assassins. See Virgen de los Sicarios, La.
Outlaw, The, 1943. Dir. Howard Hughes. Jack Beautel, Jane Russell, Thomas
Mitchell, Walter Huston, Mimi Aguglia. [Censorship in Hollywood]
Outsiders. See Ceddo.
Outsiders, The, 1983. Dir. Francis Ford Coppola. C. Thomas Howell, Matt
Dillon, Ralph Macchio, Patrick Swayze, Rob Lowe, Emilio Estevez, Tom
Cruise, Glenn Withrow, Diane Lane, Leif Garrett. [Coppola, Francis Ford]
Ox-Bow Incident, The, 1943. Dir. William A. Wellman. Henry Fonda, Dana
Andrews, Mary Beth Hughes, Anthony Quinn, Harry Morgan. [Protestantism;
Westerns]

—P—
Pale Rider, 1985. Dir. Clint Eastwood. Clint Eastwood, Michael Moriarty,
Carrie Snodgress, Chris Penn, Richard Dysart, Sydney Penny, Richard Kiel.
[Protestantism; Westerns]
Pandora and the Flying Dutchman, 1951. Dir. Albert Lewin. James Mason,
Ava Gardener, Nigel Patrick, Sheila Sim, Harold Warrender. [Mysticism]
Paradise Now. See Al-Djanna al’an.
Partie de campange (A Day in the Country), 1936. Dir. Jean Renoir. Sylvia
Bataille, Georges D’Arnoux, Jane Marken, André Gabriello, Jacques B.
Brunius. [THE MIRACLE Controversy]
Partie de cartes (The Messers. Lumière at Cards), 1895. Dir. Louis Lumière.
Antoine Féraud, Antoice Lumière, Félicien Trewey, Anphonse Winckler.
[Russia]
Pass the Ammo, 1988. Dir. David Beaird. Bill Paxton, Linda Kozlowski,
Tim Curry, Annie Potts, Dennis Burkley. [Clergy]
Passion de Jeanne d’Arc, La (The Passion of Joan of Arc), 1928. Dir. Carl
Theodor Dreyer. Maria Falconetti, Eugene Silvain, Andre Berley, Maurice
Schutz, Antonin Artaud. [Dreyer, Carl Theodor; Europe (Continental);
Joan of Arc; Mysticism]
Passion of Joan of Arc, The. See Passion de Jeanne d’Arc, La.
Passion of the Christ, The, 2004. Dir. Mel Gibson. James Caviezel, Maia
Morgenstern, Christo Jivkov, Francesco De Vito, Monica Bellucci.
532 | Appendix: Filmography

[Introduction; Bible Films; Censorship in Hollywood; Horror; Jesus;

Missionary Films; Myth; THE PASSION OF THE CHRIST Controversy; Russia;
Women]
Passion Play, The. See Vie et la passion de Jésus Christ, La.
Pastor Jones, 2005. Dir. Jean-Claude La Marre. Tracia Daye, Larry Flash
Jenkins, Malik Barnhardt, Jean-Claude La Marre, Doreen Gakwandi.
[Clergy]
Patriot, The, 2000. Dir. Roland Emmerich. Mel Gibson, Heath Ledger, Joely
Richardson, Jason Isaacs, Chris Cooper, Tchéky Karyo, Rene Auberjonois,
Lisa Brenner, Tom Wilkinson, Donal Logue, Adam Baldwin. [Protestantism;
Ritual]
Pawnbroker, The, 1964. Dir. Sidney Lumet. Rod Steiger, Geraldine Fitzgerald,
Brock Peters, Jamie Sanchez, Thelma Oliver. [Censorship in Hollywood;
Holocaust, The]
Peacemaker, The, 1997. Dir. Mimi Leder. George Clooney, Nicole Kidman,
Marcel Iures, Aleksanr Baluyev, Rene Medvesek. [Islam]
peau douce, La (The Soft Skin), 1964. Dir. François Truffaut. Jean Desailly,
Francois Dorleac, Nelly Benedetti, Daneil Ceccaldi, Laurence Badie.
[Truffaut, François]
Peggy Sue Got Married, 1986. Dir. Francis Ford Coppola. Kathleen Turner,
Nicholas Cage, Barry Miller, Catherine Hicks, Joan Allen, Kevin J. O’Connor,
Jim Carrey. [Coppola, Francis Ford]
Pelle the Conqueror. See Pelle erobreren.
Pelle erobreren (Pelle the Conqueror), 1987. Dir. Bille August. Pelle Hvenegaard,
Max von Sydow, Erik Paaske, Björn Granath, Astrid Villaume. [Europe
(Continental)]
Perfect Couple, A, 1979. Dir. Robert Altman. Paul Dooley, Mara Heflin, Titos
Vandis, Belita Moreno, Henry Gibson. [Altman, Robert]
Per qualche dollaro in più (For a Few Dollars More), 1965. Dir. Sergio Leone.
Clint Eastwood, Lee Van Cleef, Gian Maria Volontè, Mara Krupp, Luigi
Pistilli. [Leone, Sergio]
Per un pugno di dollari (A Fistful of Dollars), 1964. Dir. Sergio Leone. Clint
Eastwood, Marianne Koch, Gian Maria Volonté, Wolfgang Lukschy, Sieghardt
Rupp. [Leone, Sergio]
Perfect Human, The. See perfekte menneske, Det.
perfekte menneske, Det (The Perfect Human), 1967. Dir. Jørgen Leth. Claus
Nissen, Majken Algren Nielsen. [Trier, Lars von]
Peter Ibbetson, 1935. Dir. Henry Hathaway. Gary Cooper, Ann Harding, John
Halliday, Ida Lupino, Douglass Dumbrille. [Mysticism]
 Appendix: Filmography | 533

Peter Pan, 1953. Dir. Clyde Geronimi, Wilfred Jackson, Hamilton Luske. Bobby
Driscoll, Kathryn Beaumont, Hans Conried, Bill Thompson, Heather Angel.
[Ritual]
Peter Pan, 2003. Dir. P. J. Hogan. Jason Isaacs, Jeremy Sumpter, Rachel Hurd-
Wood, Lynn Redgrave, Richard Briers, Olivia Williams. [Ritual]
Phantom Carriage, The. See Körkarlen.
Phoolan Devi (Bandit Queen), 1994. Dir. Shekhar Kapur. Seema Biswas, Aditya
Srivastava, Agesh Markham, Ajai Rohilla, Anirudh Agarwal. [Hinduism]
Phörpa (The Cup), 1999. Dir. Khyentse Norbu. Orgyen Tobgyal, Neten
Chokling, Jamyang Lodro, Lama Chonjor, Lama Godhi. [Clergy; Ritual]
π (Pi), 1998. Dir. Darren Aronofsky. Sean Gullette, Mark Margolis, Ben
Shenkman, Pamela Hart, Stephen Pearlman. [Belief; Judaism; Mysticism]
Pianist, The, 2002. Dir. Roman Polanski. Adrien Brody, Thomas Kretschmann,
Frank Finlay, Maureen Lipman, Emilia Fox. [Europe (Continental); Judaism]
Pickpocket, 1959. Dir. Robert Bresson. Matin LaSalle, Marika Green, Jean
Pélégri, Dolly Scal, Pierre Leymarie. [Bresson, Robert]
Picnic at Hanging Rock, 1975. Dir. Peter Weir. Rachel Roberts, Vivean Gray,
Helen Morse, Kirsty Child, Tony Llewellyn-Jones. [Australia]
Pilgrim, The, 1923. Dir. Charles Chaplin. Charles Chaplin, Edna Purviance,
Kitty Bradbury, Syd Chaplin, Mack Swain. [Clergy; Silent Film]
Pilgrim’s Progress, 1950. Dir. Charles O. (Carlos Octavia) Baptista. [Missionary
Films]
Pink Panther, The, 1963. Dir. Blake Edwards. David Niven, Peter Sellers, Robert
Wagner, Capucine, Brenda De Banzie, Colin Gordon. [Myth]
Plague of the Zombies, The,1966. Dir. John Gilling. André Morell, Diane Clare,
Brook Williams, Jacueline Pearce, John Carson. [Voodoo]
Plan 9 from Outer Space, 1959. Dir. Edward D. Wood, Jr. Gregory Walcott,
Mona McKinnon, Duke Moore, Tom Keene, Carl Anthony. [Voodoo]
Planet of the Apes, 1968. Dir. Franklin J. Schaffner. Charlton Heston, Roddy
McDowall, Kim Hunter, Maurice Evans, James Whitmore. [End-of-the-
World Films]
Player, The, 1992. Dir. Robert Altman. Tim Robbins, Greta Scacchi, Fred Ward,
Whoopi Goldberg, Peter Gallagher, Vincent D’Onofrio, Dean Stockwell,
Sydney Pollack, Lyle Lovett, Dina Merrill. [Altman, Robert; Tolkin,
Michael]
Pocahontas, 1995. Dir. Mike Gabriel, Eric Goldberg. Irene Bedard, Judy Kuhn,
Mel Gibson, David Ogden Stiers, John Kassir. [Animated Films]
Poltergeist, 1982. Dir. Tobe Hooper. Craig T. Nelson, JoBeth Williams, Beatrice
Straight, Dominique Dunne, Oliver Robins, Heather O’Rourke. [Devil]
534 | Appendix: Filmography

Poltergeist II: The Other Side, 1986. Dir. Brian Gibson. JoBeth Williams, Craig T.
Nelson, Heather O’Rourke, Oliver Robins, Zelda Rubinstein. [Clergy]
Pope Must Die, The (also known as The Pope Must Diet), 1991. Dir. Peter
Richardson. Robbie Coltrane, Alex Rocco, Adrian Edmondson, Paul Bartel,
Damir Mejovsek. [Clergy]
Pope Must Diet, The. See Pope Must Die, The.
Popeye, 1980. Dir. Robert Altman. Robin Williams, Shelly Duvall, Ray Walston,
Paul Dooley, Paul L. Smith, Richard Libertini, Donald Moffat. [Altman,
Robert]
Popeye the Sailor Meets Ali Baba’s Forty Thieves, 1937. Dir. Dave Fleischer. Jack
Mercer, Mae Questel, Gus Wickie. [Islam]
Poseidon Adventure, The, 1972. Dir. Ronald Neame. Gene Hackman, Ernest
Borgnine, Red Buttons, Carol Lynley, Roddy McDowall, Stella Stevens,
Shelley Winters, Jack Albertson, Pamela Sue Martin. [Protestantism]
Posse, 1993. Dir. Mario Van Peebles. Mario Van Peebles, Stephen Baldwin,
Charles Lane, Tommy “Tiny” Lester, Big Daddy Kane, Billy Zane, Blair
Underwood, Melvin Van Peebles, Ton Loc, Pam Grier, Isaac Hayes.
[Westerns]
Postman, The, 1997. Dir. Kevin Costner. Kevin Costner, Will Patton, Larenz Tate,
Olivia Williams, James Russo. [End-of-the-World Films]
Potomok Chingis-Khana (Storm Over Asia), 1928. Dir. Vsevolod Pudovkin.
Valéry Inkijinoff, I. Dedintsev, Aleksandr Chistyakov, Viktor Tsoppi. [Russia]
Powaqqatsi: Life in Transformation, 1988. Documentary. Dir. Godfrey Reggio.
[Mysticism]
Powwow Highway, 1989. Dir. Jonathan Wacks. A Martinez, Gary Farmer,
Joannelle Nadine Romero, Amandy Wyss, Sam Vlahos. [American Indian
Religion; Ritual]
Prazdnik svyatogo Yorgena (Holiday of St. Jorgen), 1930. Dir. Yakov Protazanov,
Porfiri Podobed. Igor Ilyinsky, Anatoli Ktorov, Mariya Strelkova, Mikhail
Klimov, Vladimir Uralsky. [Russia]
Preacher’s Wife, The, 1996. Dir. Penny Marshall. Denzel Washington, Whitney
Houston, Courtney B. Vance, Gregory Hines, Jenifer Lewis. [Black Church,
The; Clergy; Protestantism]
Predator, 1987. Dir. John McTiernan. Arnold Schwarzenegger, Carl Weathers,
Elpidia Carrillo, Bill Duke, Jesse Ventura. [Science Fiction]
Prêt-à-Porter, 1994. Dir. Robert Altman. Marcello Mastroianni, Sophia Loren,
Jean-Pierre Cassel, Kim Basinger, Stephen Rea, Rupert Everett. [Altman,
Robert]
Price Above Rubies, A, 1998. Dir. Boaz Yakin. Renée Zellweger, Christopher
Eccleston, Julianna Margulies, Allen Payne, Glenn Fitzgerald. [Judaism]
 Appendix: Filmography | 535

Prince of Egypt, The, 1998. Dir. Brenda Chapman, Steve Hickner. Val Kilmer,
Ralph Fiennes, Michelle Pfeiffer, Sandra Bullock, Jeff Goldblum. [Animated
Films]
Princess Diaries, The, 2001. Dir. Garry Marshall. Julie Andrews, Anne
Hathaway, Hector Elizondo, Heather Matarazzo, Mandy Moore. [Ritual]
Princess Mononoke. See Mononoke Hime.
Procès de Jeanne d’Arc (Trial of Joan of Arc), 1962 . Dir. Robert Bresson.
Florence Delay, Jean-Claude Fourneau, Roger Honorat, Marc Jacquier,
Jean Gillibert. [Bresson, Robert; Europe (Continental)]
Prodigal Planet, The, 1983. Dir. Donald W. Thompson. William Wellman, Jr.,
Lynda Beatie, Terri Lynn Hall, Thom Rachford, Robert Chestnut, Cathy
Wellman, Russell S. Doughten, Jr. [End-of-the-World Films]
Producers, The, 1968. Dir. Mel Brooks. Zero Mostel, Gene Wilder, Kenneth
Mars, Dick Shawn, Estelle Winwood. [Brooks, Mel]
Professional, The. See Léon.
Prospero’s Books, 1991. Dir. Peter Greenaway. John Gielgud, Michael Clark,
Michel Blanc, Erland Josephson, Isabelle Pasco. [Magic]
Protocol, 1984. Dir. Herbert Ross. Goldie Hawn, Chris Sarandon, Richard
Romanus, Andre Gregory, Gail Strickland. [Islam]
Przypadek (Blind Chance), 1987. Dir. Krzysztof Kieślowski. Boguslaw Linda,
Tadeusz Lomnicki, Zbigniew Zapasiewicz, Boguslawa Pawelc, Marzena
Trybala. [Kieślowski, Krzysztof]
Psycho, 1960. Dir. Alfred Hitchcock. Anthony Perkins, Janet Leigh, Vera Miles,
John Gavin, Martin Balsam. [Devil]
Public Affairs. See Affaires Publiques, Les.
Public Enemy, The,1931. Dir. William A. Wellman. James Cagney, Jean Harlow,
Edward Woods, Joan Blondell, Donald Cook. [Catholicism; Censorship in
Hollywood]
Pueblo Legend, A, 1912. Dir. D. W. Griffith. Mary Pickford, Wilfred Lucas,
Robert Harron, J. Jiquel Lanoe, Charles Hill Mailes, Jack Pickford. [American
Indian Religion]
Pulp Fiction, 1994. Dir. Quentin Tarantino. Tim Roth, John Travolta, Samuel L.
Jackson, Amanda Plummer, Eric Stoltz, Bruce Willis, Ving Rhames, Uma
Thurman. [Belief; Tarantino, Quentin]
Pyx, The, 1973. Dir. Harvey Hart. Karen Black, Christopher Plummer, Donald
Pilon, Jean-Louis Roux, Yvette Brind’amour. [Devil]

—Q—
al-Qahira munawwara bi ahliha (Cairo as Told by Youssef Chahine), 1991.
Documentary. Dir. Youssef Chahine. Khaled Nabawy. [Africa; Arab Film]
536 | Appendix: Filmography

Al qods fee yom akhar (Rana’s Wedding), 2002. Dir. Hany Abu-Assad. Clara
Khoury, Khalifa Natour, Ismael Dabbag, Walid Abed Elsalam, Zuher Fahoum,
Bushra Karaman. [Ritual]
Quarrel, The, 1991. Dir. Eli Cohen. Saul Rubinek, R.H. Thomson, Merlee
Shapiro, Arthur Grosser, Jay Aitchess. [Holocaust, The; Judaism]
Quartre cents coups, Les (The 400 Blows), 1959. Dir. François Truffaut. Jean-
Pierre Leaud, Claire Maurier, Albert Remy, Guy Decomble, Georges Flamant.
[Truffaut, François]
Quatre Nuits d’un Rêveur (Four Nights of a Dreamer), 1971. Dir. Robert
Bresson. Isabelle Weingarten, Guillaume des Forêts, Maurice Monnoyer.
[Bresson, Robert]
Question of Silence, A. See Stilte rond Christine M, De.
Quick and the Dead, The, 1995. Dir. Sam Raimi. Sharon Stone, Gene Hackman,
Russell Crowe, Leonardo DiCaprio, Tobin Bell. [Westerns]
Quiet Man, The, 1952. Dir. John Ford. John Wayne, Maureen O’Hara, Barry
Fitzgerald, Ward Bond, Victor McLaglen. [Clergy; Protestantism; Ritual]
Quinceañera, 2006. Dir. Richard Glatzer, Wash Westmoreland. Jesus Castanos,
Araceli Gusman-Rico, Emily Rios, J. R. Cruz, Listette Avila. [Ritual]
Quo Vadis, 1951. Dir. Marvyn LeRoy. Robert Taylor, Deborah Kerr, Leo Genn,
Peter Ustinov, Patricia Laffan. [Bible Films]

—R—
Racconti di Canterbury (The Canterbury Tales), 1972. Dir. Pier Paolo Pasolini.
Hugh Griffith, Laura Betti, Ninetto Davoli, Franco Citti, Josephine Chaplin,
Alan Webb. [Europe (Continental)]
Race with the Devil, 1975. Dir. Jack Starrett. Peter Fonda, Warren Oates, Loretta
Swit, Lara Parker, R. G. Amrstrong. [Devil]
Radio Days, 1987. Dir. Woody Allen. Mike Starr, Paul Herman, Don Pardo,
Martin Rosenblatt, Helen Miller. [Judaism]
Raging Bull, 1980. Dir. Martin Scorsese. Robert De Niro, Cathy Moiarty, Joe
Pesci, Frank Vincent, Nicholas Colasanto, Therese Saldana. [Schrader, Paul;
Scorsese, Martin; Sports]
Rain People, The, 1969. Dir. Francis Ford Coppola. James Caan, Shirley Knight,
Robert Duvall, Marya Zimmet, Tom Aldredge, Morgan Fairchild. [Coppola,
Francis Ford]
Raining Stones, 1993. Dir. Ken Loach. Bruce Jones, Julie Brown, Gemma
Phoenix, Ricky Tomlinson, Tom Hickey. [Britain]
Raise the Red Lantern. See Da hong deng long gao gao gua.
Raising Arizona, 1987. Dir. Joel Coen. Nicolas Cage, Holly Hunter, Trey Wilson,
John Goodman, William Forsythe. [Coen, Joel and Ethan]
 Appendix: Filmography | 537

Raja Harischandra, 1913. Dir. Dhundiraj Govind Phalke. D. D. Dabke, P. G.

Sane, Bhalachandra D. Phalke, G. V. Sane. [Bollywood]
Ran, 1985. Dir. Akira Kurosawa. Tatsuya Nakadai, Akira Terao, Jinpachi
Nezu, Daisuke Ryu, Meiko Harada, Yoshiko Miyazaki. [Buddhism; Japan;
Kurosawa, Akira]
Rana’s Wedding. See Al qods fee yom akhar.
Rapture, The, 1941. Dir. Charles O. (Carlos Octavia) Baptista. [Missionary
Films]
Rapture, The, 1991. Dir. Michael Tolkin. Mimi Rogers, Dawyn Carson, Patrick
Bauchau, Marvin Elkins, David Duchovny. [End-of-the-World Films;
Tolkin, Michael]
Rashômon, 1950. Dir. Akira Kurosawa. Toshirô Mifune, Machiko Kyô,
Masayuki Mori, Takashi Shimura, Minoru Chiaki. [Buddhism; Kurosawa,
Akira; Myth]
Raye makhfi (Secret Ballot), 2001. Dir. Babak Payami. Nassim Abdi, Cyrus
Abidi, Youssef Habashi, Farrokh Shojaii, Gholbahar Janghali. [Islam]
Razor’s Edge, The, 1946. Dir. Edmund Goulding. Tyrone Power, Gene Tierney,
John Payne, Anne Baxter, Clifton Webb. [Hinduism; Mysticism]
Razor’s Edge, The, 1984. Dir. John Byrum. Bill Murray, Thereasa Russell,
Catherine Hicks, Denholm Elliott, James Keach. [Mysticism]
Rebel Without a Cause, 1955. Dir. Nicholas Ray. James Dean, Natalie Wood, Sal
Mineo, Jim Backus, Ann Doran. [Jesus]
Red Sorghum. See Hong gao liang.
religieuse, La (The Nun), 1966. Dir. Jacques Rivette. Anna Karina, Liselotte
Pulver, Micheline Presle, Francine Bergé, Francisco Rabal. [Clergy]
Repentance. See Monanieba.
Reservoir Dogs, 1992. Dir. Quentin Tarantino. Harvey Keitel, Tim Roth, Michael
Madsen, Chris Penn, Steve Buscemi. [Tarantino, Quentin]
Restless Ones, The, 1965. Dir. Dick Ross. Georgia Lee, Robert Sampson,
Johnny Crawford, Kim Darby, Jena Engstrom, Billy Graham. [Missionary
Films]
Resurrection, 1980. Dir. Daniel Petrie. Ellen Burstyn, Sam Shepard, Richard
Farnsworth, Roberts Blossom, Clifford David. [Mysticism]
Return of the Exorcist, The. See urlo nelle tenebre, Un.
Revelation, 1999. Dir. André van Heerden. Jeff Fahey, Tony Nappo, Carol Alt,
Leigh Lewis, Nick Mancuso. [End-of-the-World Films]
Revolt of the Zombies, 1936. Dir. Victor Halperin. Dorothy Stone, Dean Jagger,
Roy D’Arcy, Robert Noland, George Cleveland. [Voodoo]
Right to Be Happy, The, 1916. Dir. Rupert Julian. Rupert Julian, John Cook,
Claire McDowell, Frankie Lee, Harry Carter. [Holidays]
538 | Appendix: Filmography

Riti, magie nere e segrete orge nel trecento (Black Magic Rites and the Secret
Orgies of the Fourteenth Century), 1973. Dir. Renato Polselli. Mickey
Hargitay, Rita Calderoni, Raul Lovecchio, Christa Barrymore, Consolata
Moschera. [Devil]
River Girl, The. See donna del fiume, La.
River Runs Through It, A, 1992. Dir. Robert Redford. Craig Sheffer, Brad Pitt,
Tom Skerritt, Brenda Blethyn, Emily Lloyd. [Clergy; Protestantism]
Road, The. See strada, La.
Road Home, The. See Wo de fu qin mu qin.
Road to El Dorado, The, 2000. Dir. Bibo Bergeron, Will Finn. Kevin Kline,
Kenneth Branagh, Rosie Perez, Armand Assante, Edward James Olmos.
[Animated Films]
Road Warrior, The. See Mad Max 2.
Robe, The, 1953. Dir. Henry Koster. Richard Burton, Jean Simmons, Victor
Mature, Michael Rennie, Jay Robinson. [Bible Films; Jesus; Ritual]
Robin Hood: Men in Tights, 1993. Dir. Mel Brooks. Cary Elwes, Richard Lewis,
Roger Rees, Amy Yasbeck, Mark Blankfield. [Brooks, Mel]
RoboCop, 1987. Dir. Paul Verhoeven. Peter Weller, Nancy Allen, Dan O’Herlihy,
Ronny Cox, Kurt Smith. [Posthumanism]
Rocky Horror Picture Show, The, 1975. Dir. Jim Sharman. Tim Curry, Susan
Sarandon, Barry Bostwick, Richard O’Brien, Patricia Quinn. [Coen, Joel and
Ethan; Film as Religion; Myth; Ritual]
Ro.Go.Pa.G. (Let’s Have a Brainwash), 1963. Dir. Roberto Rossellini
(“Illibatezza”), Jean-Luc Godard (“Il Nuovo mondo”), Pier Paolo Pasolini
(“La Ricotta”), Ugo Gregoretti (“Il Pollo ruspante”). Rosanna Schiaffino,
Bruce Balaban, Maria Pia Schiaffino, Jean-Marc Bory, Alexandra Stewart,
Orson Welles, Mario Cipriani. [Pasolini, Pier Paolo]
Rojo no Reikon (Souls on the Road), 1921. Dir. Minoru Murata. Kaoru
Osanai, Haruko Sawamura, Koreya Togo, Mikiko Hisamatsu, Ryuko Date.
[Japan]
Roma, 1972. Dir. Federico Fellini. Peter Gonzales Falcon, Fiona Florence, Britta
Barnes, Pia De Doses Marne Maitland. [Fellini, Federico]
Roma, citta aperta (Rome, Open City), 1945. Dir. Roberto Rossellini. Aldo
Fabrizi, Anna Magnani, Marcello Pagliero, Vito Annichiarico, Nando Bruno.
[Clergy; Fellini, Federico]
Rome, Open City. See Roma, citta aperta.
Romero, 1989. Dir. John Duigan. Raul Julia, Richard Jordan, Ana Alicia, Eddie
Velez, Alejandro Brancho. [Catholicism; Clergy]
Rooster Cogburn, 1975. Dir. Stuart Millar. John Wayne, Katharine Hepburn,
Anthony Zerbe, Richard Jordan, John McIntire. [Protestantism]
 Appendix: Filmography | 539

Rosemary’s Baby, 1968. Dir. Roman Polanski. Mia Farrow, John Cassavetes,
Ruth Gordon, Sidney Blackmer, Maurice Evans. [Clergy; Devil; End-of-the-
World Films; Europe (Continental); Horror; Mysticism]
Rudy, 1993. Dir. David Anspaugh. Sean Astin, Jon Favreau, Ned Beatty, Greta
Lind, Scott Benjaminson, Charles Dutton. [Clergy]
Rules of Engagement, 2000. Dir. William Friedkin. Tommy Lee Jones, Samuel L.
Jackson, Guy Pearce, Ben Kingsley, Bruce Greenwood. [Islam]
Rumble Fish, 1983. Dir. Francis Ford Coppola. Matt Dillon, Mickey Rourke,
Diane Lane, Dennis Hopper, Diana Scarwid, Vincent Spano, Nicholas Cage,
Chris Penn, Laurence Fishburne. [Coppola, Francis Ford]
Run Lola Run. See Lola rennt.
Run Silent, Run Deep, 1958. Dir. Robert Wise. Clark Gable, Burt Lancaster, Jack
Warden, Brad Dexter, Don Rickles. [Ritual]

—S—
Saam gaang (Three Extremes II ), 2002. Dir. Peter Chan, Ji-woon Kim, Nanzee
Nimibutr. Hye-su Kim, Bo-seok Jeong, Suwinit Panjamawat, Leon Lai, Eric
Tsang. [China]
Saam gaang yi (Three Extremes), 2004. Dir. Fruit Chan, Takashi Miike, Chan-
Wook Park. Ling Bai, Pauline Lau, Tony Leung Ka Fai, Meme Tian, Miriam
Yeung Chin Wah. [China]
Sabrina, 1954. Dir. Billy Wilder. Humphrey Bogart, Audrey Hepburn, William
Holden, Walter Hampden, John Williams. [Ritual]
Sabrina, 1995. Dir. Sydney Pollack. Harrison Ford, Julia Ormond, Greg Kinnear,
Nancy Marchand, John Wood, Richard Crenna, Angie Dickinson, Lauren
Holly. [Ritual]
Sacrifice, The. See Offret.
Sadie Thompson, 1928. Dir. Raoul Walsh. Lionel Barrymore, Blanche Friderici,
Charles Lane, Florence Midgley, Gloria Swanson. [Silent Film]
Safar e Ghandehar (Kandahar), 2001. Dir. Mohsen Makhmalbaf. Nelofer Pazira,
Hassan Tantai, Sadou Teymouri, Hoyayala Hakimi, Monica Hankievich. [Islam]
Sahara, 2005. Dir. Breck Eisner. Jude Akuwidike, Mark Aspinall, Rakie Ayola,
Christopher Bello, Nicholas Beveney. [Islam]
Saikaku ichidai onna (The Life of Oharu), 1952. Dir. Kenji Mizoguchi. Kinuyo
Tanaka, Tsukie Matsuura, Ichirô Sugai, Toshirô Mifune, Toshiaki Konoe.
[Mizoguchi, Kenji]
Saint Joan, 1927. Dir. Widgey R. Newman. Sybil Thorndike. [Joan of Arc]
Saint Joan, 1957. Dir. Otto Preminger. Richard Widmark, Richard Todd, Anton
Walbrook, John Gielgud, Felix Aylmer. [Catholicism; Joan of Arc]
Saint Joan the Maid. See merveilleuse vie de Jeanne d’Arc, La.
540 | Appendix: Filmography

Saints and Soldiers, 2003. Dir. Ryan Little. Corbin Allred, Alexander Polinsky,
Kirby Heyborn, Larry Bagby, Peter Asle Holden. [Protestantism]
‘Salem’s Lot, 2004. Television. Dir. Mikael Salomon. Rob Lowe, Andre Braugher,
Donald Sutherland, Samantha Mathis, Robert Mammone. [Vampires]
Salò, o le centoventi giornate di Sodoma (Salò—The 120 days of Sodom), 1975.
Dir. Pier Paolo Pasolini. Paolo Bonacelli, Giorgio Cataldi, Umberto Paolo
Quintavalle, Aldo Valletti. [Pasolini, Pier Paolo]
Salò—The 120 days of Sodom. See Salò, o le centoventi giornate di Sodoma.
Salvation Army Lass, 1909. Dir. D. W. Griffith. Florence Lawrence, Harry Solter,
Charles Inslee, Linda Ardivson, Charles Avery. [Silent Film]
Samidare zoshi (A Chronicle of the May Rain), 1924. Dir. Kenji Mizoguchi.
Harue Ichikawa, Hiroshi Inagaki, Teruko Katsura, Yoshisuke Koizumi, Morio
Mikoshiba. [Mizoguchi, Kenji]
Samson and Delilah, 1949. Dir. Cecil B. DeMille. Hedy Lamarr, Victor Mature,
George Sanders, Angela Lansbury, Henry Wilcoxon. [Bible Films]
San Francisco, 1936. Dir. W. S. Van Dyke, II. Clark Gable, Jeanette MacDonald,
Spencer Tracy, Jack Holt, Jessie Ralph. [Clergy]
Sanjuro. See Tsubaki Sanjûrô.
Sanshô dayû (Legend of Bailiff Sansho), 1954. Dir. Kenji Mizoguchi. Kinuyo
Tanaka, Yoshiaki Hanayagi, Kyôko Kagawa, Eitarô Shindô, Akitake Kôno.
[Mizoguchi, Kenji]
Santa Clause, The, 1994. Dir. John Pasquin. Tim Allen, Wendy Crewson, Judge
Reinhold, Eric Lloyd, David Krumholtz. [Holidays]
Santa Clause 2, The, 2002. Dir. Michael Lembeck. Tim Allen, Elizabeth
Mitchell, David Krumholtz, Eric Lloyd, Judge Reinhold. [Holidays]
Santa Clause 3, The: The Escape Clause, 2006. Dir. Michael Lebeck. Tim Allen,
Elizabeth Mitchell, Eric Lloyd, Judge Reinhold, Wendy Crewson. [Holidays]
Santitos (Little Saints), 1999. Dir. Alejandro Springall. Dolores Heredia, Demián
Bichir, Alberto Estrella, Pedro Altamirano, Roberto Cobo. [Latin America]
Såsom i en spegel (Through a Glass Darkly), 1961. Dir. Ingmar Bergman.
Harriet Andersson, Gunnar Bjornstrand, Max von Sydow, Lars Passgard.
[Europe (Continental)]
Satan. See Satanas.
Satanas (Satan), 1920. Dir. F.W. Murnau. Fritz Kortner, Sadjah Gezza, Ernst
Hofmann, Margit Barnay, Else Berna. [Dreyer, Carl Theodor]
Satan’s Cheerleaders, 1977. Dir. Greydon Clark. John Ireland, Yvonne De Carlo,
Jack Kruschen, John Carradine, Sydney Chaplin. [Devil]
Satan’s School for Girls, 1973. Television. Dir. David Lowell Rich. Pamela
Franklin, Kate Jackson, Lloyd Bochner, Jamie Smith-Jackson, Roy Thinnes.
[Devil]
 Appendix: Filmography | 541

Satan’s Slave, 1976. Dir. Norman Warren. Michael Gough, Martin Potter,
Candace Glendenning, Barbara Kellerman, Michael Craze. [Devil]
Satyricon, 1969. Dir. Federico Fellini. Martin Potter, Hiram Keller, Max Born,
Salvo Randone, Mario Romagnoli. [Fellini, Federico]
Saved!, 2004. Dir. Brian Dannelly. Jena Malone, Mandy Moore, Macaulay
Culkin, Patrick Fugit, Heather Matarazzo, Mary-Louise Parker. [Protestantism]
Satyavan Savitri, 1914. Dir. Dhundiraj Govind Phalke. [Bollywood]
Say One for Me, 1959. Dir. Frank Tashlin. Bing Crosby, Debbie Reynolds,
Robert Wagner, Ray Walston, Les Tremayne. [Clergy]
Scarlet Letter, The, 1926. Dir. Victor Sjöström. Lillian Gish, Lars Hanson,
Henry B. Walthall, Karl Dane, William H. Tooker. [Silent Film]
Scarlet Letter, The, 1995. Dir. Roland Joffé. Demi Moore, Gary Oldman, Robert
Duvall, Lisa Joliffe-Andoh, Edward Hardwicke. [Protestantism]
Schastye (Happiness), 1934. Dir. Aleksandr Medvedkin. Pyotr Zinovyev, Yelena
Yegorova, Nikolai Cherkasov, Mikhail Gipsi, Vikto Kulakov. [Russia]
Schindler’s List, 1993. Dir. Steven Spielberg. Liam Neeson, Ben Kingsley,
Ralph Fiennes, Caroline Goodall, Jonathan Sagall. [Holocaust, The; Judaism;
Mamet, David; Protestantism]
School of the Holy Beast. See Seijû gakuen.
School Ties, 1992. Dir. Robert Mandel. Brendan Fraser, Matt Damon, Chris
O’Donnel, Randall Batinkoff, Andrew Lowery. [Sports]
Scotland Yard Mystery, The (also known as The Living Dead), 1933. Dir. Thomas
Bentley. Gerald du Murier, George Curzon, Grete Natzler, Belle Chrystall,
Leslie Perrins. [Voodoo]
Scottish Covenanters, The, 1909. Dir. Joseph Perry. [Australia]
Scream, Blacula, Scream, 1973. Dir. Bob Kelljan. William Marshall, Don
Mitchell, Pam Grier, Michael Conrad, Richard Lawson. [Voodoo]
Scrooged, 1988. Richard Donner. Bill Murray, Karen Allen, John Forsythe,
John Glover, Bob Goldthwait.
Sea Inside, The. See Mar adentro.
Searchers, The, 1956. Dir. John Ford. John Wayne, Jeffrey Hunter, Vera Miles,
Ward Bond, Natalie Wood. [Greek and Roman Myths; Protestantism;
Westerns]
Secret Ballot. See Raye makhfi.
Secret of NIMH, The, 1982. Dir. Don Bluth. Derek Jacobi, Elizabeth Hartman,
Arthur Malet, Dom DeLuise, Hermione Baddeley, Shannen Doherty,
Wil Wheaton, John Carradine, Peter Strauss. [Mormonism]
Seijû gakuen (School of the Holy Beast), 1974. Dir. Norofumi Suzuki. Yumi
Takigawa, Emiko Yamauchi, Yayoi Watanabe, Ryouko Ima, Harumi Tajima.
[Japan]
542 | Appendix: Filmography

Sen to Chihiro no Kamikakushi (Spirited Away), 2000. Dir. Hayao Miyazaki,

Kirk Wise (co-director, English version). Rumi Hîragi, Miyu Irino, Mari
Natsuki, Takashi Naitô, Yasuko Sawaguchi, Tatsuya Gashuin. [Japan;
Miyazaki, Hayao]
Senkiföldje (Why Wasn’t He There?), 1993. Dir. András Jeles. Cora Fischer,
Lörinc Gulyás, Péter Halász, Györgyi Kari, Kathleen Gati. [Holocaust, The]
Serenades, 2001. Dir. Mojgan Khadem. Alice Haines, Aden Young, Sanisa
Copic, Bille Broen, David Gulpilil. [Australia]
Sergeant York, 1941. Dir. Howard Hawks. Gary Cooper, Walter Brennan, Joan
Leslie, George Tobias, Stanley Ridges. [Clergy; Protestantism]
Sermons of Sister Jane, The: Believing the Unbelievable, 2007. Documentary.
Dir. Allie Light, Irving Saraf, Carol Monpere. [Women]
Serpent and the Rainbow, The, 1988. Dir. Wes Craven. Bill Pullman, Cathy
Tyson, Zakes Mokae, Paul Winfield, Brent Jennings. [Horror; Voodoo]
Setu Bandhan, 1932. Dir. Dhundiraj Govind Phalke. [Bollywood]
Se7en, 1995. Dir. David Fincher. Brad Pitt, Morgan Freeman, Gwyneth
Paltrow, R. Lee Ermey, Andrew Kevin Walker. [Belief]
Seven Alone, 1974. Dir. Earl Bellamy. Dewey Martin, Aldo Ray, Anne Collings,
Dean Smith, James Griffith. [Mormonism]
Seven Samurai. See Shichinin no samurai.
7 Women, 1966. Dir. John Ford. Anne Bancroft, Sue Lyon, Margaret Leighton,
Flora Robson, Mildred Dunnock. [Clergy]
Seven Years in Tibet, 1997. Dir. Jean-Jacques Annaud. Brad Pitt, David Thewlis,
B.D. Wong, Mako, Danny Denzongpa. [Clergy; Europe (Continental);
Myth]
1776, 1972. Dir. Peter H. Hunt. William Daniels, Howard Da Silva, Ken Howard,
Donald Madden, John Cullum, Blythe Danner. [Ritual]
Seventh Seal, The. See Sjunde Inseglet, Det.
Seventh Sign, The, 1988. Dir. Carl Schultz. Demi Moore, Michael Biehn, Jürgen
Prochnow, Peter Friedman, Manny Jacobs. [Clergy]
Shadow of the Boomerang, 1960. Dir. Dick Ross. Georgia Lee, Dickie Jones,
Jimmy Little, Marcia Hathaway, Ken Fraser, Billy Graham. [Australia;
Missionary Films]
Shadowlands, 1993. Dir. Richard Attenborough. Anthony Hopkins, Debra
Winger, Julian Fellowes, Roddy Maude-Roxby, Michael Denison, Andrew
Seear, Tim McMullan, John Wood, Andrew Hawkins. [Protestantism]
Shadows, 1922. Dir. Tom Forman. Lon Chaney, Marguerite De La Motte,
Harrison Ford, John St. Polis, Walter Long. [Clergy; Silent Film]
Shadows and Fog, 1992. Dir. Woody Allen. Woody Allen, Mia Farrow, John
Malkovich, Madonna, David Ogden Stiers. [Allen, Woody]
 Appendix: Filmography | 543

Shaka (Buddha), 1961. Dir. Kenji Misumi. Kijiro Hongo, Charito Solis, Shintarô
Katsu, Machiko Kyô, Raizô Ichikawa. [Myth]
Shane, 1953. Dir. George Stevens. Alan Ladd, Jean Arthur, Van Heflin, Brandon
De Wilde, Jack Palance, Ben Johnson. [Myth; Westerns]
Shaolin Temple, 1976. Dir. Sheng Tang. Ling Chia, Yuan Chuan, Feng Hsu,
Gwong-Tsang Lam, Ming Liu. [Myth]
Shawshank Redemption, The, 1994. Dir. Frank Darabont. Tim Robbins,
Morgan Freeman, Bob Gunton, William Sadler, Clancy Brown. [Belief;
Eucatastrophe]
She Done Him Wrong, 1933. Dir. Lowell Sherman. Mae West, Cary Grant, Owen
Moore, Gilbert Roland, Noah Beery. [Censorship in Hollywood]
Sheltering Sky, The, 1990. Dir. Bernardo Bertolucci. Debra Winger, John
Malkovich, Campbell Scott, Jill Bennett, Timothy Spall. [Islam]
Shenandoah, 1965. Dir. Andrew V. McLaglen. James Stewart, Doug McClure,
Glenn Corbett, Patrick Wayne, Rosemary Forsyth, Katharine Ross.
[Protestantism]
Shepherd, The (also known as Cybercity), 1999. Dir. Peter Hayman. C. Thomas
Howell, Roddy Piper, David Carradine, Heidi von Palleske, Mackenzie Gray.
[End-of-the-World Films]
Shi mian mai fu (House of Flying Daggers), 2004. Dir. Yimou Zhang. Takeshi
Kaneshiro, Andy Lau, Ziyi Zhang, Dandan Song. [China]
Shichinin no samurai (Seven Samurai), 1954. Dir. Akira Kurosawa. Takashi
Shimura, Toshirô Mifune, Yoshio Inaba, Seiji Miyaguchi, Minoru Chiaki.
[Buddhism; Kurosawa, Akira]
Shin heike monogatari (Tales of the Tiara Clan), 1955. Dir. Kenji Mizoguchi.
Narutoshi Hayashi, Raizô Ichikawa, Tatsuya Ishiguro, Michiyo Kogure,
Akitake Kôno. [Mizoguchi, Kenji]
Shine, 1996. Dir. Scott Hicks. Geoffrey Rush, Justin Braine, Sonia Todd, Chris
Haywood, Alex Rafalowicz. [Australia]
Shining, The, 1980. Dir. Stanley Kubrick. Jack Nicholson, Shelley Duvall, Danny
Lloyd, Scatman Crothers, Barry Nelson. [Belief; Horror; Kubrick, Stanley]
Shoah, 1985. Documentary. Dir. Claude Lanzmann. Simon Srebnik,
Michael Podchlebnik, Motke Zaidl, Hanna Zaidl, Jan Piwonski. [Europe
(Continental)]
Sholay, 1975. Dir. Ramesh Sippy. Dharmendra, Sanjeev Kumar, Hema Malini,
Amitabh Bachchan, Jaya Bhaduri. [Bollywood]
Shoot the Piano Player. See Tirez sur le pianiste.
Shooting Dogs (also known as Beyond the Gates), 2005. Dir. Michael Caton-
Jones. John Hurt, Hugh Dancy, Dominique Horwitz, Louis Mahoney, Nicola
Walker. [Africa]
544 | Appendix: Filmography

Short Cuts, 1993. Dir. Robert Altman. Andie MacDowell, Bruce Davidson,
Jack Lemmon, Zane Cassidy, Julianne Moore, Matthew Modine, Anne
Archer, Fred Ward, Jennifer Jason Leigh, Chris Penn, Lili Taylor, Robert
Downey, Jr., Madeleine Stowe, Tim Robbins, Lily Tomlin, Tom Waits,
Frances McDormand, Peter Gallagher, Lyle Lovett, Buck Henry, Huey Lewis.
[Altman, Robert]
Short Film About Killing, A. See Krótki film o zabijaniu.
Short Film About Love, A. See Krótki film o mil⁄oŚ ci.
Shower. See Xizao.
Siddartha, 1972. Dir. Conrad Rooks. Shashi Kapoor, Simi Garewal, Romesh
Sharma, Pinchoo Kapoor, Zul Vellani. [Mysticism]
Siege, The, 1998. Dir. Edward Zwick. Denzel Washington, Annette Bening,
Bruce Willis, Tony Shalhoub, Sami Bouajila. [Islam]
Sign of the Cross, The, 1899. See diable au convent, Le.
Sign of the Cross, The, 1932. Dir. Cecil B. DeMille. Frederic March, Elissa
Landi, Claudette Colbert, Joyzelle Joyner, Charles Laughton. [DeMille,
Cecil B.]
Signs, 2002. Dir. M. Night Shyamalan. Mel Gibson, Joaquin Phoenix, Rory
Culkin, Abigail Breslin, Cherry Jones. [Protestantism]
Silence, The. See Tystnaden.
Silence of Dean Maitland, The, 1914. Dir. Raymond Longford. Gwil Adams,
Nellie Brooks, Ada Clyde, Jack Goodall, Rebe Grey. [Australia]
Silence of the Lambs, The, 1991. Dir. Jonathan Demme. Jodie Foster, Anthony
Hopkins, Scott Glenn, Anthony Heald, Ted Levine. [Horror]
Silent Movie, 1976. Dir. Mel Brooks. Mel Brooks, Marty Feldman, Dom
DeLuise, Sid Ceasar, Harold Gould. [Brooks, Mel]
Silsila (The Affair), 1981. Dir. Yash Chopra. Shashi Kapoor, Amitabh Bachchan,
Jaya Bhaduri, Rekha, Sudha Chopra. [Bollywood]
Silver Bullet, 1985. Dir. Daniel Attias. Gary Busey, Everett McGill, Corey Haim,
Megan Follows, Robin Groves. [Clergy]
Simón del desierto (Simon of the Desert), 1965. Dir. Luis Buñuel. Claudio
Brook, Enrique Alvarez Felix, Hortensia Santovena, Francisco Reguera, Luis
Aceves Castaneda. [Buñuel, Luis; Europe (Continental)]
Simon of the Desert. See Simón del desierto.
Sinbad: Legend of the Seven Seas, 2003. Dir. Patrick Gilmore, Tim Johnson.
Brad Pitt, Catherine Zeta-Jones, Michelle Pfeiffer, Joseph Fiennes, Dennis
Haysbert. [Animated Films]
Sirene du Mississippi, La (Mississippi Mermaid), 1969. Dir. François Truffaut.
Jean Paul Belmondo, Catherine Denevue, Nelly Borgeaud, Martine Ferriere,
Marcel Berbert. [Truffaut, François]
 Appendix: Filmography | 545

Sirens, 1994. Dir. John Duigan. Hugh Grant, Tara Fitzgerald, Sam Neill,
Elle Macpherson, Portia de Rossi. [Australia; Clergy]
Sister Act, 1992. Dir. Emile Adolino. Whoopie Goldberg, Maggie Smith,
Kathy Najimy, Wendy Makkena, Mary Wickes. [Catholicism]
Sixteen Candles, 1984. Dir. John Hughes. Molly Ringwald, Justin Henry,
Michael Schoeffling, Haviland Morris, Gedde Watanabe, Anthony Michael
Hall, John Cusack. [Ritual]
Sixth Sense, The, 1999. Dir. M. Night Shyamalan. Bruce Willis, Haley Joel
Osment, Olivia Williams, Donnie Walhberg. [Mysticism]
Sjunde Inseglet, Det (The Seventh Seal), 1957. Dir. Ingmar Bergman. Gunnar
Björnstrand, Bengt Ekerot, Nils Poppe, Max von Sydow, Bibi Andersson.
[Bergman, Ingmar; Europe (Continental); Mysticism;Theology and Film]
Skeleton Key, The, 2005. Dir. Iain Softley. Kate Hudson, Gena Rowlands, John
Hurt, Peter Sarsgaard, Joy Bryant. [Voodoo]
Skins, 2002. Dir. Chris Eyre. Eric Schweig, Graham Greene, Gary Farmer,
Noah Watts, Lois Red Elk. [American Indian Religion]
Sky Over Berlin, The (also known as Wings of Desire). See Himmel über
Berlin, Der.
Sky Pilot, The, 1921. Dir. King Vidor. John Bowers, Colleen Moore, David
Butler, Harry Todd, James Corrigan. [Silent Film]
Sleepers, 1996. Dir. Barry Levinson. Kevin Bacon, Billy Crudup, Robert De Niro,
Ron Eldard, Minnie Driver, Vittorio Gassman, Dustin Hoffman, Terry Kinney,
Bruno Kirby, Frank Medrano, Jason Patric, Brad Pitt, Brad Renfro. [Clergy]
Small Change. See L’Argent de poche.
Smoke Signals, 1998. Dir. Chris Eyre. Adam Beach, Evan Adams, Irene Bedard,
Gary Farmer, Tantoo Cardinal. [American Indian Religion; Ritual]
Smultronstället (Wild Strawberries), 1957. Dir. Ingmar Bergman. Victor
Sjöström, Bibi Anersson, Ingrid Thulin, Gunnar Björnstrand, Jullan Kindahl.
[Bergman, Ingmar]
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, 1937. Dir. David Hand. Roy Atwell, Stuart
Buchanan, Adriana Caselotti, Eddie Collins, Pinto Colvig. [Magic]
Soft Skin, The. See peau douce, La.
Solaris. See Solyaris.
Soldiers of the Cross, 1900. Dir. Herbert Booth, Joseph Perry. Beatrice Day,
Harold Graham, Mr. Graham, John Jones, Orrie Perry. [Australia]
Solyaris (Solaris), 1972. Dir. Andrei Tarkovsky. Natalya Bondarshuk, Donatas
Banionis, Jüri Järvet, Vladislav Dvorzhetsky, Nikolai Grinko. [Tarkovsky,
Andrei]
Sometimes Happiness, Sometimes Sorrow. See Kabhi Kushi Kabhie Gham.
Son of the Bride, The. See El Hijo de la novia.
546 | Appendix: Filmography

Son of Man, 2006. Dir. Mark Dornford-May. Andile Kosi, Pauline Malefane,
Andries Mbali, Mvuyisi Mjali, Zorro Sidloyi. [Africa]
Song of Bernadette, The, 1943. Dir. Henry King. William Eythe, Charles
Bickford, Vincent Price, Lee J. Cobb, Gladys Cooper. [Catholicism;
Censorship in Hollywood; Clergy]
Sorcières de Salem, Les (The Crucible), 1957. Dir. Raymond Rouleau. Simone
Signoret, Yves Montand, Mylène Demongeot, Alfred Adam, Pierre Larquey.
[Magic]
Sorrows of Satan, The, 1926. Dir. D. W. Griffith. Adolph Menjou, Ricardo
Cortez, Carol Dempster, Lya De Putti, Ivan Lebedeff. [Devil]
Soshun (Early Spring), 1956. Dir. Yasujirō Ozu. Chikage Awashima, Takako
Fujino, Ryo Ikebe, Daisuke Katô, Keiko Kishi. [Ozu, Yasujirō]
Soul Food, 1997. Dir. George Tillman, Jr. Vanessa Williams, Vivica A. Fox, Nia
Long, Michael Beach, Mekhi Phifer, Brandon Hammond. [Black Church, The]
Souls for Sale, 1923. Dir. Rupert Hughes. Eleanor Boardman, Frank Mayo,
Richard Dix, Mae Busch, Barbara La Marr. [Clergy]
Souls on the Road. See Rojo no Reikon.
Sound of Music, The, 1965. Dir. Robert Wise. Julie Andrews, Christopher
Plummer, Richard Haydn, Peggy Wood, Anna Lee, Portia Nelson.
[Catholicism; Clergy; Ritual]
Sous le soleil de Satan (Under the Sun of Satan), 1987. Dir. Maurice Pialat.
Gerard Depardieu, Sandrine Bonnaire, Maurice Pialat, Alain Artur, Yann
Dedet. [Europe (Continental)]
Southern Carrier. See Courier Sud.
Spaceballs, 1987. Dir. Mel Brooks. Mel Brooks, Rick Moranis, Bill Pullman,
Daphne Zuniga, John Candy. [Brooks, Mel]
Spartacus, 1960. Dir. Stanley Kubrick. Kirk Douglas, Laurence Oliver, Jean
Simmons, Charles Laughton, Peter Ustinov. [Kubrick, Stanley]
Sparrow, The. See al-Asfur.
Sparrows, 1926. Dir. William Beaudine. Marry Pickford, Roy Stewart, Mary
Louise Miller, Gustav von Seyffertitz, Charolotte Mineau. [Silent Film]
Spider-Man, 2002. Dir. Sam Raimi. Tobey Maguire, Willem Dafoe, Kristen
Dunst, James Franco, Cliff Robertson. [Myth; Posthumanism]
Spider-Man 2, 2004. Dir. Sam Raimi. Tobey Maguire, Kristen Dunst, James
Franco, Alfred Molina, Rosemary Harris. [Posthumanism]
Spider-Man 3, 2007. Dir. Sam Raimi. Tobey Maguire, Kirsten Dunst, James
Franco, Thomas Haden Church, Topher Grace. [Superheroes]
Spirited Away. See Sen to Chihiro no Kamikakushi.
Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter . . . and Spring. See Bom yeoreum gaeul gyeoul
geurigo bom.
 Appendix: Filmography | 547

Stachka (Strike), 1925. Dir. Sergei M. Eisenstein. Grigori Aleksandrov,

Aleksandr Antonov, Yudif Glizer, Mikhail Gomorov. [Russia]
Stagecoach, 1939. Dir. John Ford. Claire Trevor, John Wayne, Andy Devine,
John Carradine, Thomas Mitchell, Louise Platt. [Westerns]
Stairway to Heaven. See Matter of Life and Death, A.
Stalker, 1979. Dir. Andrei Tarkovsky. Aleksandr Kaidanovsky, Alisa Frejndlikh,
Anatoli Solonitsyn, Nikolai Grinko, Natasha Abramova. [Russia; Tarkovsky,
Andrei]
Stanley and Livingstone, 1939. Dir. Henry King, Otto Brower. Spencer Tracy,
Nancy Kelly, Richard Greene, Walter Brennan, Charles Coburn, Cedric
Hardwicke. [Clergy]
Stardust Memories, 1980. Dir. Woody Allen. Woody Allen, Charlotte
Rampling, Jessica Harper, Marie-Christine Barrault, Tony Roberts. [Allen,
Woody]
Star Trek: First Contact, 1996. Dir. Jonathan Frakes. Patrick Stewart, Jonathan
Frakes, Brent Spiner, LeVar Burton, Michael Dorn. [Science Fiction]
Star Trek: Nemisis, 2002. Dir. Stuart Baird. Patrick Stewart, Jonathan Frakes,
Brent Spiner, LeVar Burton, Michael Dorn. [Posthumanism]
Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, 1982. Dir. Nicholas Meyer. William Shatner,
Leonard Nimoy, DeForest Kelley, James Doohan, Walter Koenig, George
Takei, Nichelle Nichols, Bibi Besch, Paul Winfield, Kirstie Alley, Ricardo
Montalban. [Ritual]
Star Trek V: The Final Frontier, 1989. Dir. William Shatner. Lawrence
Luckinbill, William Shatner, Leonard Nimoy, DeForest Kelley. [God]
Star Wars, 1977. Dir. George Lucas. Mark Hamill, Harrison Ford, Carrie Fisher,
Peter Cushing, Alec Guinness, Anthony Daniels. [Belief; Brooks, Mel;
Censorship in Hollywood; Eucatastrophe; Film as Religion; Myth;
Ritual; Science Fiction; Theology and Film; Westerns]
Star Wars: Episode V—The Empire Strikes Back, 1980. Dir. Irvin Kershner. Mark
Hamill, Harrison Ford, Carrie Fisher, Billy Dee Williams, Anthony Daniels.
[Greek and Roman Myths; Westerns]
Star Wars: Episode VI—Return of the Jedi, 1983. Dir. Richard Marquand. Mark
Hamill, Harrison Ford, Carrie Fisher, Billy Dee Williams, Anthony Daniels,
Peter Mayhew, Sebastian Shaw, Ian McDiarmid, Frank Oz, James Earl Jones,
David Prowse, Alec Guinness. [Westerns]
Stepford Wives, The, 1975. Dir. Bryan Forbes. Katharine Ross, Paula Prentiss,
Peter Masterson, Nanette Newman, Tina Louise. [Science Fiction; Women]
Stepford Wives, The, 2004. Dir. Frank Oz. Nicole Kidman, Matthew Broderick,
Bette Midler, Glenn Close, Christopher Walken, Jon Lovits, Faith Hill.
[Science Fiction; Women]
548 | Appendix: Filmography

Steppenwolf, 1974. Dir. Fred Haines. Max von Sydow, Dominique Sanda, Pierre
Clementi, Carla Romanelli, Roy Bosier, Alfred Baillou. [Mysticism]
Stigmata, 1999. Dir. Rupert Wainwright. Patricia Arquette, Gabriel Byrne,
Jonathan Pryce, Nia Long, Thomas Kopache. [Catholicism; Clergy;
Horror; Mysticism]
Stilte rond Christine M, De, 1982. Dir. Marleen Gorris. Edda Barends, Nelly
Frijda, Henriëtte Tol, Cox Habbema, Eddie Brugman. [Women]
Storm Over Asia. See Potomok Chingis-Khana.
Story of Floating Weeds. See Ukikusa monogatari.
Story of a Fountain Pen, The, 1939. Dir. Charles O. (Carlos Octavia) Baptista.
[Missionary Films]
Story of Mankind, The, 1957. Dir. Irwin Allen. Ronald Colman, Hedy Lamarr,
Groucho Marx, Harpo Marx, Chico Marx, Virginia Mayo, Agnes Moorehead,
Vincent Price, Peter Lorre, Cesar romero, John Carradine, Dennis Hopper.
[Joan of Arc]
Strada, La (The Road), 1954. Dir. Federico Fellini. Anthony Quinn,
Giulietta Masina, Richard Basehart, Aldo Silvani, Marcella Rovere. [Fellini,
Federico]
Strange Days, 1995. Dir. Kathryn Bigelow. Ralph Fiennes, Angela Bassett,
Juliette Lewis, Tom Sizemore, Michael Wincott. [Posthumanism]
Strange Meeting, A, 1909. Dir. D. W. Griffith. Charles Avery, Kate Bruce,
John R. Cumpson, Arthur V. Johnson, James Kirckwood. [Silent Film]
Stranger Among Us, A, 1992. Dir. Sidney Lumet. Melanie Griffith, John Pankow,
Tracy Pollan, Lee Richardson, Mia Sarah. [Clergy; Judaism]
Stranger Than Fiction, 2006. Dir. Marc Forster. Will Ferrell, William Dick,
Guy Massey, Martha Espinoza, T. J. Jagodowski. [Myth]
Strawberries and Chocolate. See Fresa y chocolate.
Strike. See Stachka.
Strike Me Lucky, 1934. Dir. Ken G. Hall. Roy Rene, Yvonne Barnard, Lorraine
Smith, John D’Arcy, Eric Masters. [Australia]
Strikebound, 1983. Dir. Richard Lowenstein. Chris Haywood, Carol Burns, Hugh
Keays-Byrne, Rob Steele, Nik Forster. [Australia]
Subspecies, 1991. Dir. Ted Nicolaou. Angus Scrimm, Anders Hove, Irina Movila,
Laura Tate, Michelle McBride. [Vampires]
Subspecies II: Bloodstone, 1993. Dir. Ted Nicolaou. Anders Hove, Denice Duff,
Kevin Spirtas, Melanie Shatner, Michael Denish. [Vampires]
Subspecies III: Bloodlust, 1994. Dir. Ted Nicolaou. Anders Hove, Denice Duff,
Kevin Spirtas, Melanie Shatner, Pamela Gordon. [Vampires]
Subspecies IV: Bloodstorm, 1998. Dir. Ted Nicolaou. Anders Hove, Denice Duff,
Jonathan Morris, Ioana Abur, Mihai Dinvale. [Vampires]
 Appendix: Filmography | 549

Sugar Hill (also known as The Zombies of Sugar Hill and Voodoo Girl), 1994.
Dir. Leon Ichaso. Wesley Snipes, Khandi Alexander, DeVaughn Nixon,
Marquise Wilson, O. L. Duke. [Voodoo]
Sugata Sanshirô, 1943. Dir. Akira Kurosawa. Denjirô Ôkôchi, Susumu Fujita,
Yukiko Todoroki, Ryunosuke Tsukigata, Takashi Shimura. [Kurosawa, Akira]
Sullivans, The (also known as The Fighting Sullivans), 1944. Dir. Lloyd Bacon.
Anne Bazter, Thomas Mitchell, Selena Royle, Edward Ryan, Trudy Marshall.
[Catholicism]
Sum of Us, The, 1994. Dir. Geoff Burton and Kevin Dowling. Jack Thompson,
Russell Crowe, John Polson, Deborah Kennedy, Joss Moroney. [Australia]
Summer of Sam, 1999. Dir. Spike Lee. John Leguizamo, Adrien Brody, Mira
Sorvino, Jennifer Esposito, Michael Rospoli. [Belief]
Sunshine, 1999. Dir. Istvan Szabo. Ralph Fiennes, Rosemary Harris, Rachel
Weisz, Jennifer Ehle, Deborah Karah Unger. [Holocaust, The]
Superman, 1948. Dir. Spencer Gordon Bennet, Thomas Carr. Kirk Alyn, Noel
Neill, Tommy Bond, Carol Forman, Pierre Watkin. [Superheroes]
Superman II, 1980. Dir. Richard Lester. Gene Hackman, Christopher Reeve,
Ned Beatty, Jackie Cooper, Sarah Douglas. [Superheroes]
Superman: The Movie, 1978. Dir. Richard Donner. Marlon Brando, Gene
Hackman, Christopher Reeve, Ned Beatty, Jackie Cooper. [Myth;
Superheroes; Theology and Film]
Superman Returns, 2006. Dir. Bryan Singer. Brandon Routh, Kate Bosworth,
Kevin Spacey, James Marsden, Parker Posey. [Superheroes]
Suzie Gold, 2004. Dir. Ric Cantor. Ariana Fraval, Daniel Mendoza, Summer
Phoenix, Stanley Townsend, Rebecca Front, Gem Souleyman. [Judaism]
Swan Princess, The, 1994. Dir. Richard Rich. Jack Palance, Howard McGillin,
Michelle Nicastro, John Cleese, Steven Wright. [Mormonism]
Sweet Hereafter, The, 1997. Dir. Atom Egoyan. Ian Holm, Caerthan Banks,
Sarah Polley, Tom McCamus, Gabrielle Rose, Alberta Watson, Maury
Chaykin. [Belief]
Sweet Life, The. See Dolce Vita, La.
The Swindle, The. See Bidone, Il.

—T —
Tabu, 1931. Dir. F. W. Murnau. Matahi, Anne Chevalier, Bill Bambridge, Hitu,
Jean. [Indigenous Religions]
Tale of the Priest and of his Workman Balda, The, 1934. Dir. Mikhail
Tsekhanovsky. [Russia]
Tales of the Tiara Clan. See Shin heike monogatari.
Tales of Ugetsu. See Ugetsu monogatari.
550 | Appendix: Filmography

Taxi Driver, 1976. Dir. Martin Scorsese. Rober De Niro, Cybill Shepherd, Peter
Boyle, Jodie Foster, Harvey Keitel. [Schrader, Paul; Scorsese, Martin]
Teeth, 2007. Dir. Mitchell Lichtenstein. Jess Weixler, John Hensley, Josh Pais,
Hale Appleman, Lenny von Dohlen. [Women]
Tempter, The (also known as The Antichrist). See L’Anticristo.
Ten Commandments, The, 1923. Dir. Cecil B. DeMille. Theodore Roberts, Charles
de Rochefort, Estelle Taylor, Julia Faye, Pat Moore. [DeMille, Cecil B.]
Ten Commandments, The, 1956. Dir. Cecil B. DeMille. Charlton Heston, Yul
Brynner, Anne Baxter, Edward G. Robinson, Yvonne De Carlo. [Animated
Films; Bible Films; DeMille, Cecil B.; Holidays; Horror; Myth; Ritual]
Tender Mercies, 1983. Dir. Bruce Beresford. Robert Duvall, Tess Harper, Betty
Buckley, Wilford Brimley, Ellen Barkin. [Clergy]
Tengoku to jigoku (High and Low), 1963. Dir. Akira Kurosawa. Toshirô Mifune,
Tatsuya Nakadai, Kyôko Kagawa, Tatsuya Mihashi, Isao Kimura. [Kurosawa,
Akira]
Tenku no shiro Rapyuta (Castle in the Sky), 1986. Dir. Hayao Miyazaki. Mayumi
Tanaka, James Van Der Beek, Anna Paquin, Keiko Yokozawa, Kotoe Hatsui.
[Miyazaki, Hayao]
Teorema (Theorem), 1968. Dir. Pier Paolo Pasolini. Silvana Mangano, Terence
Stamp, Massimo Girotti, Anna Wiazemsky, Laura Betti. [Pasolini, Pier
Paolo]
Terminator, The, 1984. Dir. James Cameron. Arnold Schwarzenegger, Michael
Biehn, Linda Hamilton, Paul Winfield, Lance Henriksen. [End-of-the-World
Films; Myth; Posthumanism; Science Fiction]
Terminator 2: Judgment Day, 1991. Dir. James Cameron. Arnold Scharzenegger,
Linda Hamilton, Edward Furlong, Robert Patrick, Earl Boen. [End-of-the-
World Films; Ritual; Science Fiction]
Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines, 2003. Dir. Jonathan Mostow. Arnold
Schwarzenegger, Nick Stahl, Claire Danes, Kristanna Loken, David Andrews.
[End-of-the-World Films; Science Fiction]
Terror of the Living Dead (also known as The Hanging Woman). See orgía de los
muertos, La.
Teseo contro il minotauro (The Minotaur), 1960. Dir. Silvio Amadio. Bob
Mathias, Rosanna Schiaffino, Alberto Lupo, Rik Battaglia, Carlo Tamberlani.
[Greek and Roman Myth]
Tess of the Storm Country, 1914. Dir. Edwin S. Porter. Mary Pickford, Harold
Lockwood, Olive Carey, David Hardford, Louise Dunlap. [Silent Film]
That Cold Day in the Park, 1969. Dir. Robert Altman. Sandy Dennis, Michael
Burns, Susanne Benton, David Garfield, Luana Anders, Michael Murphy.
[Altman, Robert]
 Appendix: Filmography | 551

That Obscure Object of Desire. See Cet obscur objet du desir.

Theorem. See Teorema.
Thérèse, 1986. Dir. Alain Cavalier. Catherine Mouchet, Hélène Alexandridis,
Aurore Prieto, Clémence Massart-Weit, Sylvie Habault. [Europe
(Continental)]
There Was a Father. See Chichi ariki.
There Will Be Blood, 2007. Dir. Paul Thomas Anderson. Daniel Day-Lewis,
Mary Elizabeth Barrett, Paul Dano, Dillon Freasier, Christine Olejniczak.
[Protestantism]
Thief in the Night, A, 1972. Dir. Donald W. Thompson. Patty Dunning, Mike
Niday, Colleen Niday, Maryann Rachford, Thom Rachford, Russell S.
Doughten, Jr. [End-of-the-World Films; Missionary Films]
Thieves Like Us, 1974. Dir. Robert Altman. Keith Carradine, Shelley Duvall,
John Schuck, Bert Remsen, Louise Fletcher, Ann Latham, Tom Skerritt.
[Altman, Robert]
Things to Come, 1936. Dir. William Cameron Menzies. Raymond Massey,
Edward Chapman, Ralph Richardson, Margaretta Scott, Cedric Hardwicke.
[End-of-the-World Films]
Third Miracle, The, 1999. Dir. Agnieszka Holland. Sofia Polanska, Pavol Simon,
Ivan Lukac, Patrik Minar, Michael Rispoli. [Catholicism]
30 Days of Night, 2007. Dir. David Slade. Josh Hartnett, Melissa George, Danny
Huston, Ben Foster, Mark Boone, Jr. [Vampires]
Thoroughly Modern Millie, 1967. Dir. George Roy Hill. Julie Andrews, James
Fox, Mary Tyler Moore, Carol Channing, John Gavin. [Ritual]
Three Colors: Blue. See Trois couleurs: Bleu.
Three Colors: Red. See Trois couleurs: Rouge.
Three Colors: White. See Trzy kolory: Bialy.
Three Extremes. See Saam gang.
Three Extremes II. See Saam gaang yi.
3 Women, 1977. Dir. Robert Altman. Shelley Duvall, Sissy Spacek, Janice Rule,
Robert Fortier, Ruth Nelson. [Altman, Robert]
300, 2006. Dir. Zack Snyder. Gerard Butler, Lena Headey, Dominic West, David
Wenham, Wincent Regan. [Greek and Roman Myth]
Throne of Blood. See Kumonosu jô.
Through a Glass Darkly. See Såsom i en spegel.
Thunderheart, 1992. Dir. Michael Apted. Val Kilmer, Sam Shepard, Graham
Greene, Fred Ward, Fred Dalton Thompson. [American Indian Religion;
Myth]
Tim Burton’s The Nightmare Before Christmas. See Nightmare Before
Christmas, The.
552 | Appendix: Filmography

Time Bandits, 1981. Dir. Terry Gilliam. John Cleese, Sean Connery, Shelly
Duvall, Katherine Helmond, Ian Holm. [Gilliam, Terry; God]
Time Changer, 2002. Dir. Rich Christiano. D. David Morin, Gavin MacLeod,
Hal Linden, Jennifer O’Neill, Paul Rodriguez. [Protestantism]
Time of Favor. See Ha-Hesder.
Tirez sur le pianiste (Shoot the Piano Player), 1960. Dir. François Truffaut.
Charles Aznavous, Marie Dubois, Nicole Berger, Michèle Mercier, Serge
Davri. [Truffaut, François]
Titan A.E., 2000. Dir. Don Bluth, Gary Goldman, Art Vitello. Matt Damon, Bill
Pullman, John Leguizamo, Nathan Lane, Janeane Garofalo, Drew Barrymore,
Ron Perlman. [Mormonism]
To Be or Not to Be, 1983. Dir. Alan Johnson. Mel Brooks, Anne Bancroft, Tim
Mathenson, Charles Durning, Christopher Lloyd. [Brooks, Mel]
To the Devil a Daughter, 1976. Dir. Peter Sykes. Richard Widmark, Christopher
Lee, Honor Blackman, Denholm Elliott, Michael Goodliffe, Nastassja Kinski.
[Devil]
To End All Wars, 2001. Dir. David L. Cunningham. Ciarán McMenamin, Robert
Carlyle, Kiefer Sutherland, Mark Strong, Yugo Saso. [Protestantism]
Tôkyô monogatari (Tokyo Story), 1953. Dir. Yasujirō Ozu. Chishu Ryu, Chieko
Higashiyama, Setsuko Hara, Haruko Sugimura, Sô Yamamura. [Ozu, Yasujirō]
Tokyo Story. See Tôkyô monogatari.
Tonari no Totoro (My Neighbor Totoro), 1988. Dir. Hayao Miyazaki. Noriko
Hidaka, Chika Sakamoto, Shigesato Itoi, Sumi Shimatomoto, Tanie
Kitabayashi. [Miyazaki, Hayao]
Tony Fontane Story, The, 1963. Dir. Jan Sadlo. Char Fontane, Tony Fontane,
Kerry Vaughn. [Missionary Films]
Topo, El, 1970. Dir. Alejandro Jodorwsky. Alejandro Jodorwsky, Brontis
Jodorowsky, Jose Legarreta, Alfonso Arau, Jose Luis Fernandez. [Mysticism]
Tora no o wo fumu otokotachi (The Men Who Tread on the Tiger’s Tail), 1945.
Dir. Akira Kurosawa. Denjirô Ôkôchi, Susumu Fujita, Kenichi Enomoto,
Masayuki Mori, Takashi Shimura. [Kurosawa, Akira]
Tornado, The. See al-A’asar.
Trapped by the Mormons, 1922. Dir. H. B. Parkinson. Evelyn Brent, Louis
Willoughby, Ward McAllister, Olaf Hytten, Olive Sloan. [Mormonism]
Trial of Joan of Arc. See Procès de Jeanne d’Arc.
Tribulation, 2000. Dir. André van Heerden. Gary Busey, Howie Mandel, Nick
Mancuso, Margot Kidder, Sherry Miller. [End-of-the-World Films]
Trip to Bountiful, The, 1985. Dir. Peter Masterson. Geraldine Page, John Heard,
Crlin Glynn, Richard Bradford, Rebecca De Mornay, Kevin Cooney. [Ritual]
Trip to the Moon, A. See voyage dans la lune, Le.
 Appendix: Filmography | 553

Trois couleurs: Bleu (Three Colors: Blue), 1993. Dir. Krzysztof Kieślowski.
Juliette Binoche, Benoît Régent, Florence Pernel, Charlotte Véry, Hélène
Vincent. [Kieślowski, Krzysztof]
Trois couleurs: Rouge (Three Colors: Red), 1994. Dir. Krzysztof Kieślowski.
Irene Jacob, Jean Louis Trinitigant, Frederique Feder, Jean Pierre Lorit,
Samuel Le Bihan. [Europe (Continental); Kieślowski, Krzysztof]
Trojan Women, The, 1971. Dir. Mihalis Kakogiannis. Katherine Hepburn,
Vanessa Redgrave, Genevieve Bujold, Irene Papas, Patrick Magee. [Greek
and Roman Myth]
Tron, 1982. Dir. Steven Lisberger. Jeff Bridges, Bruce Boxleitner, David Warner,
Cindy Morgan, Barnard Hughes. [Mysticism]
Troy, 2004. Dir. Wolfgang Petersen. Julian Glover, Brian Cox, Nathan Jones,
Adoni Maropis, Jacob Smith, Brad Pitt, Diane Kruger. [Greek and Roman
Myth; Myth]
True Grit, 1969. Dir. Henry Hathaway. John Wayne, Glen Campbell, Kim Darby,
Jeremy Slate, Robert Duvall, Dennis Hopper. [Westerns]
True Lies, 1994. Dir. James Cameron. Arnold Schwarzenegger, Jamie Lee Curtis,
Tom Arnold, Bill Paxton, Charlton Heston. [Islam]
True Romance, 1993. Dir. Tony Scott. Christian Slater, Patricia Arquette,
Michael Rapaport, Val Kilmer, Bronson Pinchot, Dennis Hopper. [Tarantino,
Quentin]
Truly Madly Deeply, 1990. Dir. Anthony Minghella. Juliet Stevenson, Jenny
Howe, Carolyn Choa, Bill Paterson, Christopher Rozycki. [Theology
and Film]
Truman Show, The, 1998. Dir. Peter Weir. Jim Carrey, Laura Linney, Noah
Emmerich, Natascha McElhone, Ed Harris, Paul Giamatti, Harry Shearer,
Philip Baker Hall. [Theology and Film]
Trzy kolory: Bialy (Three Colors: White), 1994. Dir. Krzysztof Kieślowski.
Zbigniew Zamachowski, Julie Delpy, Janusz Gajos, Jerzy Sturh, Aleksander
Bardini. [Kieślowski, Krzysztof]
Tsubaki Sanjûrô (Sanjuro), 1962. Dir. Akira Kurosawa. Toshirô Mifune, Tatsuya
Nakadai, Keiju Kobayashi, Yuzo Kayama, Reiko Dan. [Buddhism; Kurosawa,
Akira]
Tuchi nad Borskom (Clouds over Borsk), 1960. Dir. Vasili Ordynsky. Inna
Gulaya, Roman Khomyatov, Vladimir Ivashov, Natalya Antonova. [Russia]
Tucker, 1988. Dir. Francis Ford Coppola. Jeff Bridges, Joan Allen, Martin
Landau, Frederic Forrest, Mako, Christian Slater. [Coppola, Francis Ford]
Tutti i colori del buio (All the Colors of the Dark), 1972. Dir. Sergio Martino.
George Hilton, Edwige Fenech, Ivan Rassimov, Julián Ugarte, George Rigaud.
[Devil]
554 | Appendix: Filmography

Twelve Chairs, The, 1970. Dir. Mel Brooks. Ron Moody, Frank Langella, Dom
DeLuise, Andréas Voutsinas, Diana Coupland. [Allen, Woody]
Twelve Monkeys, 1995. Dir. Terry Gilliam. Joseph Melito, Bruce Willis, Brad
Pitt, Jon Seda, Michael Chance, Vernon Campbell. [End-of-the-World Films;
Gilliam, Terry; Science Fiction]
Twilight, 2008. Dir. Catherine Hardwicke. Kristen Stewart, Robert Pattinson,
Billy Burke, Ashley Greene, Nikki Reed. [Vampires]
Twinkle in God’s Eye, The, 1955. Dir. George Blair. Mickey Rooney, Coleen
Gray, Hugh O’Brian, Joey Forman, Don “Red” Barry, Mike Connors. [Clergy]
2001: A Space Odyssey, 1968. Dir. Stanley Kubrick. Keir Dullea, Gary
Lockwood, William Sylvester, Daniel Richter, Leonard Rossiter. [Kubrick,
Stanley; Mysticism; Science Fiction; Tarkovsky, Andrei]
Tystnaden (The Silence), 1963. Dir. Ingmar Bergman. Ingrid Thulin, Gunnel
Lindblom, Birger Malmsten, Håkan Jahnberg, Jörgen Lindstrom. [Europe
(Continental)]

—U—
Uccellacci e Uccellini (The Hawks and the Sparrows), 1966. Dir. Pier Paolo
Pasolini. Toto, Ninetto Davoli, Femi Benussi, Rossana Di Rocco, Renato
Capogna. [Pasolini, Pier Paolo]
Ugetsu monogatari (Tales of Ugetsu), 1953. Dir. Kenji Mizoguchi. Masayuki
Mori, Machiko Kyô, Kinuyo Tanaka, Eitarô Ozawa, Ikio Sawamura. [Japan;
Mizoguchi, Kenji]
Ukhod velikovo startza (Departure of a Grand Old Man), 1912. Dir. Yakov
Protazanov and Elizaveta Thiman. Olga Petrova, Vladimir Shaternikov,
Mikhail Tamarov, Elizaveta Thiman. [Russia]
Ukikusa monogatari (Story of Floating Weeds), 1934. Dir. Yasujirō Ozu. Takeshi
Sakamoto, Chouko Iida, Koji Mitsui, Rieko Yagumo, Yoshiko Tsubouchi.
[Ozu, Yasujirō]
última cena, La (The Last Supper), 1976. Dir. Tomas Gutierrez Alea. Mario
Acea, Mario Balmaseda, Francisco Borroto, Samuel Claxton, Andes Cortina.
[Latin America]
Ultraviolet, 1998. Television. Dir. Joe Ahearne. Fiona Dolman, Jack Davenport,
Idris Elba, Colette Brown, Susannah Harker. [Vampires]
Ultraviolet, 2006. Dir. Kurt Wimmer. Milla Jovovich, Cameron Bright, Nick
Chinlund, Sepastien Andieu, Ida Martin. [Vampires]
Unbreakable, 2000. Dir. M. Night Shyamalan. Bruce Willis, Samuel L. Jackson,
Robin Wright Penn, Spence Treat Clark, Charlayne Woodard. [Myth]
Undead, The, 1957. Dir. Roger Corman. Pamela Duncan, Richard Garland,
Allison Hayes, Val Dufour, Mel Welles. [Devil]
 Appendix: Filmography | 555

Under the Sun of Satan. See Sous le soleil de Satan.

Underworld, 2003. Dir. Len Wiseman. Kate Beckinsale, Scott Speedman,
Michael Scheen, Shane Brolly, Bill Nighy. [Vampires]
Unforgiven, 1992. Dir. Clint Eastwood. Clint Eastwood, Gene Hackman, Morgan
Freeman, Richard Harris, Jamz Woolvett, Saul Rubinek. [Greek and Roman
Myths; Westerns]
unge år, De: Erik Nietzsche sagaen del 1 (The Early Years: Erik Nietzsche,
Part I ), 2007. Dir. Jacob Thuesen. Jonatan Spang, David Dencik, Carl
Martin Norén, Therese Damsgaard, Mille Lehfeldt. [Trier, Lars von]
Unhold, Der (The Ogre), 1996. Dir. Volker Schlondorff. John Malkovich,
Gottfried John, Marianne Sagebrecht, Bolker Spengler, Henio Ferch.
[Europe (Continental)]
Unholy, The 1988. Dir. Camilo Vila. Ruben Rabasa, Nicole Fortier, Peter
Frechette, Phil Becker, Ned Beatty. [Horror]
Unstrung Heroes, 1995. Dir. Diane Keaton. Andie MacDowell, John Turturro,
Michael Richards, Maury Chaykin, Nathan Watt. [Ritual]
Uptown Saturday Night, 1974. Dir. Sidney Poitier. Sidney Poitier, Bill Cosby,
Harry Belafonte, Flip Wilson, Richard Pryor. [Clergy]
urlo nelle tenebre, Un (The Return of the Exorcist), 1975. Dir. Franco Lo Cascio,
Angelo Pannacciò. Richard Conte, Françoise Prévost, Patrizia Gori, Jean-
Claude Vernè, Sonia Viviani. [Devil]
Urs al-jalil (Wedding in Galilee), 1987. Dir. Michel Khleifi. Mohamad Ali El
Akili, Bushra Karaman, Makram Khoury, Yussuf Abu-Warda, Anna Condo,
Nazih Akleh. [Ritual]

—V —
V for Vendetta, 2005. Dir. Andy Wachowski, Larry Wachowski. Natalie Portman,
Hugo Weaving, Stephen Rea, Stephen Fry, John Hurt. [Superheroes]
Vagabond, The. See Awaara.
Valley of the Wolves: Iraq. See Kurtlar vadisi—Irak.
Vampyres, 1974. Dir. José Ramón Larraz. Marianne Morris, Anulka Dziubinska,
Murray Brown, Brian Deacon, Sally Faulker. [Vampires]
vangelo secondo Matteo, Il (The Gospel According to St, Matthew), 1964.
Dir. Pier Paolo Pasolini. Enrique Irazoqui, Margherita Caruso, Susanna
Pasolini, Marcello Morante, Mario Socrate. [Pasolini, Pier Paolo]
Van Helsing, 2004. Dir. Stephen Sommers. Hugh Jackman, Kate Beckinsale,
Richard Roxburgh, David Wenham, Shuler Hensley. [Clergy; Horror;
Vampires]
Vanilla Sky, 2001. Dir. Cameron Crowe. Tom Cruise, Penélope Cruz, Cameron
Diaz, Kurt Russell, Jason Lee. [Belief; Protestantism]
556 | Appendix: Filmography

Vanishing American, The, 1925. Dir. George Seitz. Richard Dix, Lois
Wilson, Noah Beery, Malcolm McGregor, Nocki. [American Indian
Religion]
vida es silbar, La (Life Is to Whistle), 1998. Dir. Fernando Perez. Jose Andrade,
Maudelet Badia, Elena Bolanos, Rolando Brito, Alina Canizares. [Latin
America]
vie et la passion de Jésus Christ, La (The Passion Play), 1903. Dir. Lucien
Nonguet, Ferdinand Zecca. Madame Moreau, Monsieur Moreau. [Russia]
Vincent and Theo, 1990. Dir. Robert Altman. Tim Roth, Paul Rhys, Adrian Brine,
Jean-François Perrier, Yves Dangerfield. [Altman, Robert]
Virgen de los sicarios, La (Our Lady of the Assassins), 2000. Dir. Barbet
Schroeder. German Jaramillo, Anderson Ballesteros, Juan David Resterpo,
Manual Busquets, Wilmar Agudelo. [Latin America]
Virgin Spring, The. See Jungfrukallan.
Virginian, The, 1914. Dir. Cecil B. DeMille. Dustin Farnum. [Westerns]
Viridiana, 1961. Dir. Luis Buñuel. Silvia Pinal, Francisco Rabal, Fernando Rey,
José Calvo, Margarita Lozano. [Buñuel, Luis]
Virtuosity, 1995. Dir. Brett Leonard. Denzel Washington, Kelly Lynch, Russell
Crowe, Stephen Spinella, William Forysthe. [Posthumanism]
Visitor, The, 1979. Dir. Giulio Paradisi. Mel Ferrer, Glenn Ford, Lance
Henriksen, John Huston, Joanne Nail, Sam Peckinpah, Shelley Winters.
[Devil]
Vita é bella, La (Life Is Beautiful), 1997. Dir. Roberto Benigni. Roberto Benigni,
Nicoletta Braschi, Giorgio Cantarini, Giustino Durano, Sergio Bini Bustric.
[Judaism]
Vivement dimanche! (Confidentially Yours), 1983. Dir. François Truffaut. Fanny
Ardant, Jean-Louis Trintignant, Jean-Pierre Kalfon, Philippe Laundenbach,
Philippe Morier-Genoud. [Truffaut, François]
voie lactée, Le (The Milky Way), 1969. Dir. Luis Buñuel. Paul Frankeur, Laurent
Terzieff, Alain Cuny, Edith Scob, Bernard Verley. [Buñuel, Luis; Europe
(Continental)]
Voodoo Girl (also known as The Zombies of Sugar Hill). See Sugar Hill.
Voodoo Island, 1957. Dir. Reginald Le Borg. Boris Karloff, Beverly Tyler,
Murvyn Vye, Elisha Cooke, Jr., Rhodes Reason, Jean Engsrom. [Voodoo]
Voyage dans la lune, Le (A Trip to the Moon), 1902. Dir. Georges Méliès. Victor
Andre, Bleuette Bernon, Brunnet, Jeanne d’Alcy, Henri Delannoy. [Science
Fiction]
Vrendens dag (Day of Wrath), 1943. Dir. Carl Theodor Dreyer. Kristen
Andersean, Sigurd Berg, Albert Hoeberg, Harald Holst, Emanuel Jorgensen.
[Clergy; Dreyer, Carl Theodor]
 Appendix: Filmography | 557

Vsyo ostayotsya lyudyam (Everything Remains for the People), 1963. Dir. Georgi
Natanson. Nikolai Cherkasov, Sofiya Pilyavskaya, Andrei Popov, Elina
Bystritskaya, Igor Ozerov. [Russia]

—W —
Wagon Master, 1950. Dir. John Ford. Ben Johnson, Joanne Dru, Harry Carey, Jr.,
Ward Bond, Charles Kemper. [Mormonism]
Wait Until Dark, 1967. Dir. Terence Young. Audrey Hepburn, Alan Arkin,
Richard Crenna, Efrem Zimbalist, Jr., Jack Weston. [Ritual]
Waking Life, 2001. Dir. Richard Linklater. Trevor Jack Brooks, Lorelei Linklater,
Wiley Wiggins, Glover Gill, Lara Hicks. [Mysticism]
Walkabout, 1971. Dir. Nicolas Roeg. Jenny Agutter, Luc Roeg, David Gulpilil,
John Meillon, Robert McDarra. [Ritual]
Walking Dead, The, 1936. Dir. Michael Curtiz. Boris Karloff, Ricardo Cortez,
Edmund Gwenn, Marguerite Chuchill, Warren Hull. [Voodoo]
Walt Disney’s Fantasia. See Fantasia.
Wandâfuru raifu (After Life), 1998. Dir. Hirokazu Koreeda. Arata, Erika Oda,
Susumu Terajima, Takashi Naitô, Kyôko Kagawa. [Japan]
WarGames, 1983. Dir. John Badham. Matthew Broderick, Dabney Coleman, John
Wood,Ally Sheedy, Barry Corbin. [End-of-the-World Films; Science Fiction]
War of the Worlds, The, 1953. Dir. Bryon Haskin. Gene Barry, Ann Robinson,
Les Tremayne, Robert Cornthwaite, Sandro Giglio. [Clergy]
War of the Worlds, 2005. Dir. Steven Spielberg. Tom Cruise, Dakota Fanning,
Miranda Otto, Justin Chatwin, Tim Robbins. [Myth; Science Fiction]
Water, 2005. Dir. Deepa Mehta. Sarala, Buddhi Wickrama, Rinsly Weerarathne,
Iranganie Serasinghe, Hermantha Gamage. [Women]
Wedding in Galilee. See Urs al-jalil.
We Free Kings (1996). See I magi randagi.
In weiter Ferne, so nah! (Faraway, So Close!), 1993. Dir. Wim Wenders. Otto
Sander, Bruno Ganz, Nastassja Kinski, Martin Olbertz, Aline Krajewski.
[Angels; Europe (Continental)]
Werewolves on Wheels, 1971. Dir. Michael Levesque. Steve Oliver, D. J.
Anderson, Gene Shane, Billy Gray, Gray Johnson. [Devil]
West Side Story, 1961. Dir. Jerome Robbins, Robert Wise. Natalie Wood, Richard
Beymer, Russ Tamblyn, Rita Moreno, George Chakiris. [Ritual]
Whale Rider, 2002. Dir. Niki Caro. Keisha Castle-Hughes, Rawiri Paratene,
Vicky Haughton, Cliff Curtis, Grant Roa. [Indigenous Religions; Mysticism]
What Am I to You . . . ! See Hum Aapke Hain Koun . . . !
What Dreams May Come, 1998. Dir. Vincent Ward. Robin Williams, Cuba Gooding, Jr.,
Annabella Sciorra, Max von Sydow, Jessica Brooks Grant. [Heaven; Mysticism]
558 | Appendix: Filmography

What the #&*! Do We (K)now?!, 2004. Dir. William Arntz. Marlee Matlin,
Elaine Hendrix, John Ross Bowie, Robert Bailey, Jr., Barry Newman.
[Mysticism]
Wheel of Time, 2003. Documentary. Dir. Werner Herzog. Dali Lama, Lama
Lhundup Woeser, Takna Jigme Sangpo, Mattiew Ricard, Madhurita Negi
Anand. [Europe (Continental)]
When Harry Met Sally . . . 1989. Dir. Rob Reiner. Billy Crystal, Meg Ryan, Carrie
Fisher, Bruno Kirby. [Myth]
Where Are My Children?, 1916. Dir. Lucy Payton and Franklin Hall. Tyrone
Power, Sr., A. D. Blake, Marjorie Blynn, Juan de la Cruz, Cora Drew.
[Silent Film]
Where the Green Ants Dream. See Wo die grünen Ameisen träumen.
Where the Red Fern Grows, 1974. Dir. Norman Tokar. James Whitmore, Beverly
Garland, Jack Ging, Lonny Chapman, Steward Peterson. [Mormonism]
Which Way Is Up?, 1977. Dir. Michael Schultz. Richard Pryor, Lonette McKee,
Margaret Avery, Morgan Woodward, Marilyn Coleman. [Black Church, The]
White Buffalo, The, 1977. Dir. J. Lee Thompson. Charles Bronson, Jack Warden,
Will Sampson, Clint Walker, Slim Pickens, Kim Novak, John Carradine.
[Ritual]
White Sister, The, 1923. Dir. Henry King. Lillian Gish, Ronald Colman, Gail
Kane, J. Barney Sherry, Charles Lane. [Silent Film]
White Zombie, 1932. Dir. Victor Halperin. Bela Lugosi, Madge Bellamy, Joseph
Cawthorn, Robert Frazer, John Harron. [Horror; Voodoo]
Who’s That Knocking at My Door (also known as I Call First), 1969. Dir.
Martin Scorsese. Zina Bethune, Harvey Keitel, Anne Collette, Lennard Kuras,
Michael Scala. [Scorsese, Martin]
Why Wasn’t He There? See Senkiföldje.
Wild Child, The. See L’Enfant sauvage.
Wild Strawberries. See Smultronstället.
Wind Will Carry Us, The. See Bad ma ra khahad bord.
Wings of Desire (also known as The Sky Over Berlin). See Himmel über
Berlin, Der.
Winter Light. See Nattvardsgästerna.
Wired Angel. 1999. Dir. Sam Wells. Yuri Delaney, Marc Masino, Claudia Reeves,
Caroline Ruttle, Ed Stout. [Joan of Arc]
Witchcraft Through the Ages, 1968. See Häxan.
Witches, The. See Häxan.
Witches of Eastwick, The, 1987. Dir. George Miller. Jack Nicholson, Cher, Susan
Sarandon, Michelle Pfeiffer, Veronica Cartwright. [Magic]
 Appendix: Filmography | 559

Witchfinder General (also known as The Conqueror Worm), 1968. Dir. Michael
Reeves. Vincent Price, Ian Ogilvy, Rupert Davies, Hilary Heath, Robert
Russell. [Magic]
Witness, 1985. Dir. Peter Weir. Harrison Ford, Kelly McGillis, Josef Sommer,
Lukas Haas, Jan Rubes. [Judaism; Protestantism]
Wizard of Oz, The, 1939. Dir. Victor Fleming. Judy Garland, Frank Morgan,
Ray Bolger, Bert Lahr, Jack Haley, Billie Burke, Margaret Hamilton.
[Heaven; Magic; Ritual]
Wo de fu qin mu qin (The Road Home), 1999. Dir. Yimou Zhang. Ziyi Zhang,
Honglei Sun, Hao Zheng, Yulian Zhao, Bin Li. [China; Ritual]
Wo die grünen Ameisen träumen (Where the Green Ants Dream), 1984.
Dir. Werner Herzog. Bruse Spence, Wandjuk Marika, Roy Marika, Ray
Barrett, Norman Kaye. [Europe (Continental)]
Wo Hu Cang Long, (Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon), 2000. Dir. Ang Lee.
Yun-Fat Chow, Michelle Yeoh, Ziyi Zhang, Chen Chang, Sihung Lung.
[Buddhism; China]
Woman Thou Art Loosed, 2004. Dir. Michael Schultz. Kimberly Elise, Loretta
Devine, Debbi Morgan, Michael Boatman, Clifton Powell. [Black Church,
The; Clergy]
Wong Fei Hung II: Naam yi dong ji keung (Once Upon a Time in China II),
1992. Dir. Hark Tsui. Jet Li. [China]
Wooden Man’s Bride, The. See Wu kui.
Word, The. See Ordet.
Wpisany w gwiazde Davida (The Cross Inscribed in the Star of David), 1997.
Documentary. Dir. Grzegorz Linkowski. [Holocaust, The]
Wu kui (The Wooden Man’s Bride), 1994. Dir. Jianxin Huang. Shih Chang,
Bao-ming Gu, Kao Mingjun, Fuli Wang, Lan Wang. [China]

—X—
“X”: The Man with X-Ray Eyes, 1963. Dir. Roger Corman. Ray Milland, Diana
Van der Vlis, Harold J. Stone, John Hoyt, Don Rickles. [Horror]
X-Men, 2000. Dir. Bryan Singer. Hugh Jackman, Patrick Stewart, Ian McKellen,
Famke Janssen, James Marsden, Halle Berry, Anna Paquin. [Myth]
X-Men: The Last Stand, 2006. Dir. Brett Ratner. Hugh Jackman, Halle Berry,
Ian McKellen, Patrick Stewart, Famke Janssen. [Superheroes]
X2: X-Men United, 2003. Dir. Bryan Singer. Patrick Stewart, Hugh Jackman,
Ian McKellen, Halle Berry, Famke Janssen. [Superheroes]
Xingfu shiguang (Happy Times), 2000. Dir. Yimou Zhang. Benshan Zhao,
Jie Dong, Lifan Dong, Biao Fu, Xuejian Li. [China]
560 | Appendix: Filmography

Xizao (Shower), 1999. Dir. Yang Zhang. Wu Jiang, Du Jiayi, Quanxin Pu,
He Zeng, Xu Zhu. [China]

—Y —
Yacoubian Building, The. See ‘Imarat al-Ya’qubiyan.
Yaddun ilahiya (Divine Intervention), 2002. Dir. Elia Suleiman. Elia Suleiman,
Manal Khader, George Ibrahim, Amer Daher, Jamel Daher. [Arab Film]
Yakuza, The, 1974. Dir. Sydney Pollack. Robert Mitchum, Ken Kakakura, Brian
Keith, Herb Edelman, Richard Jordan. [Schrader, Paul]
Yanqui Cur, The, 1913. Dir. D. W. Griffith. Robert Harron, Kate Bruce, Walter
Miller, Lionel Barrymore, Frank Opperman. [Silent Film]
Yeelen (Brightness), 1987. Dir. Souleymane Cissé. Issiaka Kane, Aoua Sangare,
Niamanto Sanogo, Balla Moussa Keita, Soumba Traore. [Africa]
Yentl, 1983. Dir. Barbra Streisand. Barbra Streisand, Mandy Patinkin, Amy
Irving, Nehemiah Persoff, Steven Hill. [Clergy; Judaism]
Yin shi nan nu (Eat Drink Man Woman), 1994. Dir. Ang Lee. Sihung Lung,
Yu-Wen Wang, Chien-lien Wu, Kuei-Mei Yang, Sylvia Chang. [Buddhism;
China]
Ying xiong (Hero), 2002. Dir. Yimou Zhang. Jet Li, Tony Leung Chiu Wai,
Maggie Cheung, Ziyi Zhang, Daoming Chen. [China]
Yojimbo, 1961. Dir. Akira Kurosawa. Toshirô Mifune, Tatsuya Nakadai, Yôko
Tsukasa, Isuzu Yamada, Daisuke Katô. [Buddhism; Japan; Kurosawa, Akira]
Yo, La Peor de Todas (I, the Worst of All), 1990. Dir. María Luisa Bemberg.
Assumpta Serna, Dominique Sanda, Héctor Alterio, Lautaro Murúa, Graciela
Araujo. [Latin America]
Young Frankenstein, 1974. Dir. Mel Brooks. Gene Wilder, Peter Boyle, Marty
Feldman, Madeline Kahn, Cloris Leachman. [Brooks, Mel]
Young Torless. See Junge Törless, Der.

—Z—
Zawadj al-mukhtalat fi-l-ardi al-muqadassa, Al (Forbidden Marriages in the
Holy Land), 1995. Documentary. Dir. Michel Khleifi. [Arab Film]
Zelig, 1983. Dir. Woody Allen. Woody Allen, Mia Farrow, John Buckwalter,
Patrick Horigan, Marvin Chatinover. [Allen, Woody]
Zemlya (Earth), 1930. Dir. Aleksandr Dovzhenko. Stepan Shkurat, Semyon
Svashenko, Yuliya Solntseva, Yelena Maksimova, Nikolai Nademsky. [Russia]
Zerkalo (The Mirror), 1975. Dir. Andrei Tarkovsky. Margarita Terekhova, Ignat
Daniltsev, Larisa Tarkovskaya, Alla Demidova, Anatoli Solonitsyn. [Russia]
Zhivoy (The Hero), 2006. Dir. Aleksandr Veledinsky. Olga Arntgolts, Aleksey
Chadov, Maksim Lagashkin, Aleksandr Robak, Viktoriya Smirnova. [Russia]
 Appendix: Filmography | 561

Zombi 2 (Zombie), 1979. Dir. Lucio Fulci. Tisa Farrow, Ian McColloch, Richard
Johnson, Al Cliver, Aureta Gay. [Voodoo]
Zombie. See Zombi 2.
Zombies of Mora Tau, 1957. Dir. Edward L. Cahn. Gregg Palmer, Allison Hayes,
Autumn Russell, Joel Morris Ankrum. [Voodoo]
Zombies of Sugar Hill, The (also known as Voodoo Girl). See Sugar Hill.
Selected Bibliography

Because of the recent increase of interest in the intersection of religion and film,
a complete bibliography on the topic runs the risk of being out of date by the
time it is published. The following materials are meant only to supplement those
provided in the specific entries, and are (for the most part) primarily more general
in scope.
Except in unusual circumstances, articles, interviews, movie reviews, nonfic-
tion essays, and editorials from newspapers, newsweeklies, and religious periodi-
cals have not been included; neither have works produced to fulfill requirements
for graduate degrees, materials about television programs, materials not published
in English, or individual articles and chapters within works already listed sepa-
rately. Some “crossover” materials—related to both television and film—have
been included.
Emphasis has been put on scholarly publications on religion and film, materi-
als that take a theological, sociological, historical, textual, cultural studies, and (on
occasion) confessional approach to the intersection of religion and film.
The first (and for many, the most accessible) place to begin any investigation
into the relationship of religion and film is the Internet, and interested readers are
strongly encouraged to become familiar with the vast online resources available
there, specifically the Journal of Religion & Film (www.unomaha.edu/~jrf ) and
the Journal of Religion & Popular Culture (www.usask.ca/relst/jrpc).

Altman, Sig. The Comic Image of the Jew: Explorations of a Pop Culture Phenom-
enon. Rutherford, NJ: Farleigh Dickinson University Press, 1971.
Aylmer, Kevin J. “Towering Babble and Glimpses of Zion: Recent Depictions of
Rastafari in Cinema.” In Chanting Down Babylon: The Rastafari Reader, edited
by Nathaniel Samuel Murrel, William David Spencer, and Adrian Anthony
McFarlane, 284–307. Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1998.
Barbour, Dennis H. “Heroism and Redemption in the Mad Max Trilogy.” Journal
of Popular Film and Television 27, no. 3 (1999): 28–34.

563
564 | Selected Bibliography

Baron, Lawrence. Projecting the Holocaust into the Present: The Changing Focus
of Contemporary Holocaust Cinema. Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield,
2005.
Bartunek, John, L. C. Inside The Passion: An Insider’s Look at The Passion of the
Christ. West Chester, PA: Ascension Press, 2005.
Bazin, André. “Cinema and Theology.” In Bazin at Work: Major Essays and Reviews
from the Forties and Fifties. Translated by Alain Piette and Bert Cardullo, edited
by Bert Cardullo, 61–72. New York: Routledge, 1997.
Beal, Timothy, and Tod Linafelt, eds. Mel Gibson’s Bible: Religion, Popular
Culture, and The Passion of the Christ. Chicago: University of Chicago Press,
2005.
Bergesen, Albert J., and Andrew Greeley. God in the Movies: A Sociological
Investigation. New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction, 2000.
Bernheimer, Kathryn. The 50 Greatest Jewish Movies: A Critic’s Ranking of the
Very Best. Secaucus, NJ: Birch Lane Press, 1998.
Billingsley, K. L. The Seductive Image: A Christian Critique of the World of Film.
Westchester, IL: Crossway, 1989.
Black, Gregory D. The Catholic Crusade Against the Movies, 1940–1975. New York:
Cambridge University Press, 1998.
Blake, Richard A. “Secular Prophecy in an Age of Film.” Journal of Religious
Thought 27, no. 1 (1970): 63–75.
Blake, Richard A. Screening America: Reflections on Five Classic Films. New
York: Paulist Press, 1991.
Bland, Henderson. From Manger to Cross: The Story of the World-Famous Film
of the Life of Jesus. London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1922.
Boyd, Malcolm. “Theology and the Movies.” Theology Today 14, no. 3 (1957):
359–375.
Boyer, Mark G. Using Film to Teach New Testament. Lanham, MD: University
Press of America, 2002.
Brackman, Harold. “The Attack on ‘Jewish Hollywood’: A Chapter in the History
of Modern American Anti-Semitism.” Modern Judaism 20, no. 1 (2000):
1–19.
Burnett, R. G., and E. D. Martell. The Devil’s Camera: Menace of Film-Ridden
World. London: Epworth Press, 1932.
Butler, Ivan. Religion in the Cinema. New York: A.S. Barnes, 1969.
Cadegan, Uma M. “Guardians of Democracy or Cultural Storm Troopers? American
Catholics and the Control of Popular Media, 1934–1966.” Catholic Historical
Review 87 (2001): 252–282.
Campbell, Richard H., and Michael R. Pitts. The Bible on Film: A Checklist,
1897–1980. Metuchen, NJ: Scarecrow Press, 1981.
 Selected Bibliography | 565

Cargal, Timothy B. Hearing a Film, Seeing a Sermon: Preaching and Popular

Movies. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2007.
Carr, Steven Alan. Hollywood and Anti-Semitism: A Cultural History up to World
War II. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2001.
Chattaway, Peter T. “Jesus at the Movies.” Books and Culture 6 (March/April,
2000): 10–14.
Christianson, Eric, Peter Francis, and William R. Telford, eds. Cinéma Divinité:
Religion, Theology and the Bible in Film. London: SCM Press, 2005.
Coats, Paul. Cinema, Religion and the Romantic Legacy: Through a Glass Darkly.
Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2003.
Cohen, Jeremy. Christ Killers: The Jews and the Passion from the Bible to the Big
Screen. New York: Oxford University Press, 2006.
Cohen, Sarah Blacher, ed. From Hester Street to Hollywood: The Jewish-American
Stage and Screen. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1983.
Cooke, John. “Patterns of Shamanic Ritual in Popular Film.” Literature/Film Quar-
terly 12, no. 1 (1984): 50–57.
Coopenger, Mark. “A Christian Perspective on Film.” In The Christian Imagination,
edited by Leland Ryken, 285–302. Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Book House,
1981.
Cooper, James F. “Reflections on The Passion.” American Arts Quarterly (Spring
2004): 2–8.
Cooper, John C., and Carl Skrade, eds. Celluloid and Symbols. Philadelphia:
Fortress Press, 1970.
Corley, Kathleen E., and Robert L. Webb, eds. Jesus and Mel Gibson’s The Passion
of the Christ: The Film, the Gospels, and the Claims of History. New York:
Continuum, 2004.
Cosandey, Roland, André Gaudreault, and Tom Gunning, eds. Une Invention du
Diable? Cinéma des Premiers Temps et Religion [An Invention of the Devil?
Religion and Early Cinema]. Sainte Foy, Canada: Les Presses du l’Université
Laval, 1992.
Couvares, Francis G. “Hollywood, Main Street, and the Church: Trying to Censor
Movies before the Production Code.” In Movie Censorship and American
Culture, edited by Francis G. Courvares, 129–158. Washington, DC: Smithsonian
Institute Press, 1996.
Cox, Harvey G. “Theological Reflections on Cinema.” Andover Newton Quarterly 3,
no. 2 (1962): 28–40.
Cunneen, Joseph E. “Film and the Sacred.” Cross Currents 43, no. 1 (1993):
92–104.
Cunningham, Philip A., ed. Pondering the Passion: What’s at Stake for Christians
and Jews. Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield, 2004.
566 | Selected Bibliography

Dalton, Russell W. Faith Journey Through Fantasy Lands: A Christian Dialogue

with Harry Potter, Star Wars, and The Lord of the Rings. Minneapolis, MN:
Augsburg Fortress Press, 2003.
Dans, Peter E. Christians in the Movies: A Century of Saints and Sinners. Lanham,
MD: Rowman and Littlefield, 2009.
Darby, Ken. Hollywood Holyland: The Filming and Scoring of The Greatest Story
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About the Editor

ERIC MICHAEL MAZUR is the Gloria and David Furman Chair of Judaic Stud-
ies at Virginia Wesleyan College (Norfolk), where he teaches courses in Judaism,
religion in American culture, and the academic study of religion. His work has ap-
peared in the Journal of Church and State, Insights, Social Justice Research, and
Social Studies, as well as in edited volumes on religious freedom, the sociology of
religion, popular culture, race and religion, the arts, and Native American studies,
and encyclopedias of religion in America, religious liberty, and race, ethnicity, and
society. He is the author of The Americanization of Religious Minorities: Confront-
ing the Constitutional Order (1999), coauthor of Religion on Trial: How Supreme
Court Trends Threaten Freedom of Conscience in America (with Phillip E. Ham-
mond and David W. Machacek, 2004), coeditor of God in the Details: American
Religion in Popular Culture (with Kate McCarthy, 2001; 2nd ed., 2010), and editor
of Art and the Religious Impulse (2002). Eric has served on the editorial board of
the Journal of Religion and Popular Culture (where he was also the book review
editor) and is currently an editorial board member of the Journal of Religion and
Theatre. He has been quoted in more than a dozen newspapers and news Web
sites, including the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, the Baltimore Jewish Times, the
Chicago Tribune, the Christian Science Monitor, the Fort Worth Star-Telegram,
the Kansas City Star, the Toronto Star, TV Guide, and the Washington Post, as well
as local newspapers in California, Massachusetts, Mississippi, Pennsylvania, and
Virginia. Before joining the faculty at Virginia Wesleyan College, Eric taught
courses at the University of California, Santa Barbara; the California State Univer-
sity, Chico; and Bucknell University, where he was chair of the Religion Depart-
ment and co-coordinator of the American studies and legal studies programs.

577
List of Contributors

Michael Berenbaum Beth Davies-Stofka

American Jewish University Front Range Community College

Donna Bowman Dell deChant

University of Central Arkansas University of South Florida

Darryl V. Caterine Michael W. DeLashmutt

Le Moyne College Sarum College

Christopher Chinn Marc DiPaolo

Pomona College Oklahoma City University

Eric S. Christianson Julien R. Fielding

University of Chester University of Nebraska at Omaha

Peter Ciaccio Andrew Flescher

Independent Scholar State University of New York,
Stony Brook
Chris Conkling
American Jewish University Christopher Garbowski
Maria Curie-Sklodowska
Tim Craig University
Warner University
Robert L. Green Jr.
Lisle Dalton University of California,
Hartwick College Santa Barbara

579
580 | List of Contributors

Aaron Gross John Longaker

University of San Diego Susquehanna University

Brannon Hancock Jeffrey Mallinson

Independent Scholar Trinity Lutheran College

R. Christopher Heard Eric Michael Mazur

Pepperdine University Virginia Wesleyan College

Robert Hornak Karline McLain

Independent Scholar Bucknell University

Mark Hulsether Garay Menicucci

University of Tennessee University of California,
Santa Barbara
Adam Isler
Independent Scholar Stuart Minnis
Virginia Wesleyan College
Christopher Jocks
Independent Scholar Jolyon P. Mitchell
University of Edinburgh
Jeff Keuss
Seattle Pacific University Kerry Mitchell
Independent Scholar
Tara Keiko Koda
Independent Scholar Christopher M. Moreman
California State University,
Anton Karl Kozlovic East Bay
Flinders University
Shannon Nagy
Christine Hoff Kraemer Independent Scholar
Cherry Hill Seminary
Sean Samuel O’Neil
J. Shawn Landres University of Florida
Independent Scholar
Kim Paffenroth
Gabriel Levy Iona College
University of Aarhus
Rodger M. Payne
Terry Lindvall University of North Carolina
Virginia Wesleyan College at Asheville
 List of Contributors | 581

Thomas E. Phillips Jon R. Stone

Point Loma Nazarene University California State University, Long
Beach
Frank Pittenger
Independent Scholar Don Surrency
University of South Florida
Andrew Quicke
Regent University Andrew Tate
Bowland College, Lancaster
Laurence Roth University
Susquehanna University
John Vassar
Julie Scanlon Louisiana State University in
Northumbria University Shreveport

Cybelle Shattuck Rachel Wagner

Independent Scholar Ithaca College

James Mark Shields Brian Wilson

Bucknell University Western Michigan University

Elijah Siegler Melanie J. Wright

College of Charleston The Open University

Roger Sneed Donna Yarri

Furman University Alvernia University
Index
Aaron, 26
al-A’asar (The Tornado, 1992), 36
Abbott and Costello Meet Franken-
stein (1948), 444
ABCD (1999), 217
Abie’s Irish Rose (1928), 399
Abie’s Irish Rose (stage), 399
Aboriginal peoples (Australia): culture,
43; influences, 42; music, 336;
religion/spirituality, 39, 43, 44,
45, 334, 181. See also Indigenous
religions; Native peoples
Aboriginals, 40, 41
About Schmidt (2002), 342
Abraham, 55, 56, 104, 266
Abrahamic faiths, 67, 424. See also
Christianity; Islam; Judaism
Abrahams, Harold, 87 – 88, 89
al-Abwab al-moghlaka (The Closed
Doors, 1999), 35
Academy Award, 92, 87, 101, 131,
136, 137 139, 267, 276, 288, 320,
362, 392, 392, 462. See also Oscar
Accattone (1961), 347
Ace Ventura (1994), 340
Achilles, 26, 205, 206
Acquired Immune Deficiency Syn-
drome (AIDS), 449
Acts, Book of, 70, 349
583
Adam, 464
Adam’s Rib (1949), 465
Adaptation (2002), 341
The Addiction (1995), 444
ADL. See Anti-Defamation League
Adriatic Sea, 183
Adventures of Baron Munchausen
(1988), 194
The Adventures of Robin Hood
(1938), 129
Aenied (Virgil), 143
The Affair (1981). See Silsila
Les affairs publiques (Public Affairs,
1934), 82
Afghanistan, 379; Afghan culture, 43
Africa, 1 – 6, 28, 129, 241, 317, 450,
451; African-derived religions, 289,
292; African Latin religions, 292.
See also specific groups, regions,
and countries
African Americans, 73, 74, 240, 459
The African Queen (1951), 129, 364
Africans, 452, 453, 468; Bushmen, 239,
240
After Hours (1985), 392
After Life (1998). See Wandâfuru raifu
Against a Crooked Sky (1975), 329
Agamemnon, 206
L’age d’or (The Golden Age, 1930), 99
584 | Index
The Age of Innocence (1993), 392
Agnes of God (1985), 114, 335
Agni Varsha (The Fire and the Rain,
2002), 340
Agostino di Ippone (Augustine of
Hippo, 1972), 178
Aguirre, der Zorn Gottes (Aguirre:
The Wrath of God, 1972), 143, 180
Aguirre: The Wrath of God (1972).
See Aguirre, der Zorn Gottes
Ahearne, Joe, 444
AIDS. See Acquired Immune Defi-
ciency Syndrome
Ainu tribe (Japan), 322. See also
Indigenous religions; Native peoples
Air Force One (1997), 243
Akibiyori (Late Autumn, 1960), 343
Akira (1988), 253
Akutagawa, Ryūnosuke, 279
Aladdin (1992), 245, 246, 248
Albanese, Catherine, 461
Aleksandr Nevskiy (Alexander Nevsky,
1938), 377
Alexander (2004), 203
Alexander III, Tsar, 377
Alexander, Ilil, 468
Alexander Nevsky (1938). See
Aleksandr Nevskiy
Alexandria, Egypt, 2, 33
Alexandria . . . Why? (1978). See
Iskandariyya . . . leh?
Alexie, Sherman, 18
Algeria, 3, 34
Algiers, Algeria, 34
Algonquin, 41. See also American
Indians
Ali (201), 405, 406
Ali, Muhammad, 406
Alice (1990), 9
Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore
(1974), 391
Alien (1979), 233, 388
Aliens (1986), 371, 444, 465
Alien Sex: The Body and Desire
in Cinema and Theology
(Loughlin), 190
Aligheri, Dante. See Dante
All Dogs Go to Heaven (1989), 29, 31
Allen, Irwin, 262
Allen, Woody, 6 – 10, 53, 54, 92, 157,
264, 268, 307
Alles auf Zucker! (Go for Zucker!,
2004), 181
All the Colors of the Dark (1976). See
Tutti I colori del buio
Almodovar, Pedro, 179
Altered States (1980), 334
Althusser, Louis, 48
Altman, Robert, 11 – 14, 430
Alton, John, 316
Always (1989), 212
Alyn, Kirk, 408
Amacord (I Remember, 1973), 185
Amazing Grace (2006), 135, 361 – 62
Ambricourt, France, 82
Amenabar, Alejandro, 179
America, 117
America, 21, 40, 67, 68, 73, 90, 103,
151, 196, 212, 222, 319, 361, 363,
402, 406, 435, 455, 458. See also
United States; specific states and
regions
American Beauty (1999), 54, 55, 342
American Family Association, 286,
287, 288
American Film Institute, 92
American Gigolo (1980), 381,
382, 383

American Indian religion, 14 – 19;
Ghost dance, 17; Sun Dance, 16,
368; Sweat lodge, 17
American Indians, 14 – 19. See also
Indigenous religions; Native
Americans; Native peoples; specific
tribes
American International Pictures, 153
Americanization, 109, 399
American Midwest, 130
American Ninja 3: Blood Hunt (1989),
247
American Ninja 4: The Annihilation
(1990), 247
American North, 239
American Northwest, 12
Americans, 11, 14, 112, 147, 187,
190, 243, 248, 286, 363, 392,
404, 405
American South, 137, 239; Deep
South, 139
An American Tale (1986), 329
American West, 458; Old West, 397;
Wild West, 460
Americas, the, 241
Amish, 268, 364
Amityville II: The Possession
(1982), 236
The Amityville Horror (1979), 114,
134, 236
L’amore (Love, 1948), 184
Amores Perros (Love’s a Bitch, 2000),
55, 291
Amorites, 411
Amritsar, India, 216
Anastasia (1997), 329
Andalusia, 2
An Andalusian Dog (1929). See Un
Chien andalou
Index | 585
Anderson, Carl, 256
Anderson, G. M. (Gilbert), 397
Anderson, Ken, 317
Anderson, Wes, 157
Andrei Rublev (1966). See Andrey
Rublyov
Andrey Rublyov (Andrei Rublev,
1966), 378, 421, 422 – 23, 429
Andromeda, 204
Angel-A (2005), 61
Angel and the Bad Man (1947), 364
Angel Baby (1961), 130
Angels, 19 – 26, 172, 173, 194, 195,
201, 210, 212, 310, 384, 387, 388,
407, 411, 412; avenging angels,
297; Gabriel, 20, 21, 22, 27;
Raphael, 20, 24
Angels in the Outfield (1994), 407
Angels of the Streets (1943). See Las
anges du péché
Angels With Dirty Faces (1938), 109,
129
Anger Management (2003), 135
Angers, France, 47
Les anges du peche (Angels of the
Streets, 1943), 82, 179
Angry Harvest (1986). See Bittere
Ernte
Angkor Wat (Cambodia), 143
Anglican Church 89; Anglican nuns,
333; Anglican priest, 41, 133. See
also Clergy
Anglicans, 4
Animated film, 26 – 31, 321
Anime, 250, 252, 253, 320
Animism/Animist, 28, 321, 323
Anker, Roy, 425
Annaud, Jean-Jacques, 180, 181
Annie Hall, 8
586 | Index
The Annunciation, 20
The Annunciation (Fra Angelico), 21
Another Woman (1988), 9
Ansky, S., 265 – 66
Antichrist, 153–54, 168, 169, 170, 171,
172
Antichrist (2009), 435
The Antichrist (1974). See
L’Anticristo
Anticolonialism, 32
L’Anticristo (The Antichrist, 1974),
156
Anti-Defamation League (ADL), 351
Anti-imperialism, 36
Anti-intellectualism, 262
Antioch, 350, 446
Anti-Semitism, 87, 92, 94, 149, 225,
227, 231, 258, 267, 308, 328, 404;
Christian anti-Semitism, 68 – 69;
European anti-Semitism, 351;
Islamic anti-Semitism, 351
Anything Else (2003), 10
Apache, 15 – 16. See also American
Indians
Apocalypse: Caught in the Eye of the
Storm (1998), 170, 319
Apocalypse II: Revelation. See
Revelation
Apocalypse III: Tribulation. See
Tribulation
Apocalypse IV: Judgment. See
Judgment
The Apocalypse (1997), 167, 172
Apocalypse Now (1979), 141, 143,
144, 203, 340, 368
Apocalypto (2006), 241, 242, 368
Apollo, 27, 206
Apollonius, 204
The Apostle (1997), 53, 121, 135,
364, 368
Arab film, 32 – 39; Arab filmmakers,
244
Arabia, gods of, 27
Arabian Nights (1974). See Il fiore
delle Mille e una note
Arabic (language), 244, 247
Arabs, 245, 246, 248; Bedouin
Arabs, 245
Arafat, Yasser, 38
Arbuckle, Roscoe “Fatty,” 399
Arcand, Denys, 257
L’Argent (Money, 1983), 84, 179
L’Argent de poche (Small Change,
1976), 440
Argonautica (Apollonius), 204
Argonauts, 204
Aristotle, 189
Arjuna, 407
Armageddon, 168
Armageddon (1998), 340, 386
Aronofsky, Darren, 264
Arrival of a Train at La Ciotat (1896).
See L’Arrivée d’un train à La Ciotat
L’Arrivée d’un train à La Ciotat
(Arrival of a Train at La Ciotat,
1896), 374
Arthur (King), 193; Arthurian
legend, 305
Artificial Intelligence: AI (2001), 339,
358 – 59, 387
The Art of the Moving Picture
(Lindsay), 304
Aryan, 228, 396
Asbury Park, New Jersey, 402
The Ascension of Christ (Rembrandt
van Rijn), 21
Al-Asfur (The Sparrow, 1973), 33
As Good as It Gets (1997), 371
Asia, 317; Buddhists in, 97; countries
in, 123; faiths in, 45; films and

filmmakers in, 95, 428. See also
China; Japan; specific countries,
regions, and religious traditions
Asimov, Isaac, 384
Assisi, Italy, 348
Association of Japanese Motion
Pictures, 249
Aswany, Alaa el-, 35
Atheism, 59, 273 – 74, 419, 422;
atheistic worldview, 53
Athena, 206
Athens, Greece, 287, 349
Atlantic City, New Jersey, 394
Atlantic Ocean, 178, 350
Atwood, Margaret, 163, 384, 385
August, Bille, 177
Augustine (of Hippo), 106, 178
Augustine of Hippo (1972). See
Agostino di Ippone
Au hazard Balthazar (Balthazar, 1966),
83, 179
Au revoir, les enfants (1987), 132, 180
Austen, Jane, 216
Australia, 39 – 46; Australian film,
263, 334, 368; Central Australia, 43
Auteur theory, 48, 151, 156 – 58, 439,
467; Catholic auteur, 81
Auto Focus (2002), 381, 382, 383
Avary, Roger, 415
The Avenging Conscience (1914), 396
The Aviator (2004), 392
Awaara (The Vagabond, 1951), 76, 77
Awful Disclosures (Monk), 114
Axel, Gabriel, 178
Ayers Rock (Australia; also known as
Uluru), 43
Aylward, Gladys, 130
Aymara peoples (Andes), 242. See
also Indigenous religions; Native
peoples
Index | 587
Ayodhya, India, 77
al Azhar Mosque (Cairo), 33
Aztecs (Mexica), 29 – 30, 242, 377;
Aztec sun god, 29. See also
Indigenous religions; Native peoples.
Ba, Amadou Hampaté, 1
Bab al-sama maftuh (A Door to the
Sky, 1989), 34, 368
Bab el-Hadid (Cairo Station, 1958), 2
Bab el Oued City (1994), 34
Babe (1995), 44
Babette’s Feast (1987). See Babettes
gaestebud
Babettes gaestebud (Babette’s Feast,
1987), 132, 178, 425
Babylon, 394; Babylonians, 252, 411
Bacchus, 27
Bach, Richard, 334
Bacheha—Ye aseman (Children of
Heaven, 1997), 243
Bad Boy Bubby (1993), 42
Bad Education (2004). See La Malla
educación
Bad Girls (1994), 462
Bad ma ra khahad bord (The Wind
Will Carry Us, 1999), 243
Bad Santa (2003), 224
Bahai, 42
Baheb el cima (I Love Cinema,
2004), 37
Baker’s Hawk (1976), 329
Bakushû (Early Summer, 1951), 249,
343, 344
Balthazar (1966). See Au hazard
Balthazar
De Balzac, Honoré, 437, 439
Bambara, 5. See also Mali
Bancroft, Anne, 91
Bandit Queen (1994). See Phoolan Devi
588 | Index

Bannings, 36, 37, 47, 177, 179, 287, BBC. See British Broadcasting
326. See also Censorship Corporation
Banshun (Late Spring, 1949), 343, Bean, Henry, 227
344, 345 Beat Zen, 97
Bantu Educational Kinema Beatles, 194, 333
Experiment (BEKE), 2 Beatty, Warren, 286
Baptist, 71, 131, 135, 318, 362, 364 Becket (1964), 130, 190
Baptista, Carlos Octavia, 316 – 18; Beckham, David, 90
and the Miracle Projector, 316; Bedazzled (1967), 153
and the Miracle 2, 316; and the Tel Befrielsesbilleder (Images of Relief,
N’See, 316 1983), 437
Barabbas, 255 Behemoth, 233
Baraka (1992), 339 Beirut, Lebanon, 36
Barrett, Franklyn, 40, 45 BEKE. See Bantu Educational
Barrett, Wilson, 149 Kinema Experiment
Barry Lyndon (1975), 278 Belgium, 37
Barsoum Looking for a Job (1923). The Believer (2001), 227
See Barusm yabhath ‘an wathifah Bell, Book, and Candle (1958), 304
Barton Fink (1991), 136, 137, 139 Bellerophon, 26
Barusm yabhath ‘an wathifah (Barsoum The Bells of St. Mary’s (1945), 109,
Looking for a Job, 1923), 32 110, 131
Bash (2001), 328 Belly of the Beast (2003), 97
Batman (1989), 410 Ben-Hur (1959), 67, 255, 372
Batman Begins (2005), 410, 411 Bend it Like Beckham (2003), 89 – 90,
Batman Returns (1992), 411 368
The Battle at Elderbrush Gulch (1913), Beneath the Planet of the Apes (1970),
15 172
Battle for the Planet of the Apes (1973), Benedict, Pope, 353
172 Benedict XV, Pope, 260
Battle Hymn (1957), 129 Bengali (language), 76
The Battle of Broken Hill (1982), 43 Benin, 450
Battleship Potemkin (1925). See Benton, Robert, 12
Bronenosets Potyomkin Bergman, Ernst Ingmar. See Bergman,
Baudrillard, Jean, 196, 311 Ingmar
Baum, L. Frank, 306 Bergman, Ingmar, 12, 56 – 60, 84, 132,
Bayoumi, Muhammad, 32 161, 177, 178, 332, 426
Bazin, André, 47 – 50, 82, 438, 439; Bergson, Henri, 48
“Evolution of the Language of Berkeley, Busby, 94
Cinema,” 49; “Ontology of the Berlin, Germany, 22 – 23, 24; Berlin
Photographic Image,” 48 Wall, 23

Berlingske Tindede, 159
Bernanos, Georges, 82
Berri, Claude, 181
Bertolucci, Bernardo, 181, 335
Besson, Luc, 61 – 65, 180, 262
Best Intentions (1992). See Den goda
viljan
Bez Końca (No End, 1985), 274
Bezhin lug (Bezhin Meadow,
1937), 377
Bezhin Meadow (1937). See Bezhin
lug
Bhagavad Gita, 219, 407
Bharata, 77
Bible. See Hebrew Bible; Hebrew
Scriptures; Jewish Bible; New
Testament; Old Testament; Torah;
specific figures, doctrines, events,
and locations
The Bible Code (Drosnin), 169
Bible Code II: The Countdown
(Drosnin), 169
Bible films, 65 – 70, 265
The Bicycle Thief (1948). See Ladri di
biciclette
Il bidone (The Swindle, 1955), 185
The Big Chill (1983), 368
The Big Kahuna (1999), 362
The Big Lebowski (1998), 138, 139,
140, 338
Big Mama’s House (2000), 133
The Big Tip Off (1955), 263
Bilhah, 163
Bill & Ted’s Bogus Journey
(1991), 212
Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure
(1989), 262, 372
Bill Bumper’s Bargain (1911), 152
Biograph Studios, 395
A Biography of Lilith (1997), 465
Index | 589
Bird, Michael, 426
The Birth of a Nation (1915), 239 – 40,
341, 396
Biruma no tategoto (The Burmese
Harp, 1956), 251, 253
The Bishop’s Wife (1947), 74, 130,
363, 372
Bittere Ernte (Angry Harvest, 1986),
181
Björk, 436
The Black Cauldron (1985), 329
Black Church, 70 – 75
The Black Crook (1916), 152
Black Death, 58
Black Fury (1935), 119
Black Hawk Down (2001), 246
Black, Karen, 154
Black magic, 183, 450, 454
Black Magic Rites and the Secret
Orgies of the Fourteenth Century
(1973). See Riti, magie nere e
segrete orge nel trecento
Black Narcisus (1947), 333
Black Rain (1989). See Kuroi ame
Black Robe (1991), 41, 115, 132
Black Sox scandal, 407
Blacula (1972), 453
Blade Af Satans Bog (Leaves from
Satan’s Book, 1921), 160
Blade Runner (1982), 69, 358
Blade: Trinity (2004), 411
Blake, William, 87, 307
Blatty, William Peter, 234, 334
Das Blaue Licht (The Blue Light,
1932), 332
Blaxploitation, 415, 453, 454
Blazing Saddles (1974), 92, 94, 462
Blessed Virgin, 64. See also Mary,
mother of Jesus
Blind Chance (1987). See Przypadek
590 | Index
Blockbuster Video, 288
The Blob (1988), 134
Blonde Venus (1932), 117
The Blood of Jesus (1941), 133
Blood on Satan’s Claw (1971), 155
Blood Simple (1984), 136
Bloom, Orlando, 97
The Blot (1921), 396
Blue Blood (1973), 155
The Blue Light (1932). See Das Blaue
Licht
The Blues Brothers (1980), 72
Bluth, Don, 329
Bodh Gaya, India, 181
Body and Soul (1925), 133
Bogdanovich, Peter, 286
Bohemia, 394
Bollywood, 4, 75 – 81, 457. See also
Hinduism; India
Bologna, Italy, 347
Bolsheviks, 2, 377; Bolshevik
Revolution, 376 – 77
Bom yeoreum gaeul gyeoul geurigo
bom (Spring, Summer, Fall,
Winter . . . and Spring, 2003), 368
Bombay, India, 75, 76, 77
Bondanella, Peter, 184
Bonnie and Clyde (1967), 460
Bora Bora, 240
“Borscht Belt,” 92
The Boss of It All (2006). See
Direktøren for det hele
Boston, Massachusetts, 191
Boston Red Sox, 176
Á bout de soufflé (Breathless,
1960), 439
Boxcar Bertha (1972), 285, 391
Boy Scouts, 2
Boys Town (1938), 109, 129
Brahm, John, 112
Brahman, 311
Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1992),
144, 446
Brazil (1985), 194, 195
Brazil, 292; Brazilian conflict, 132;
Brazilian film, 293
The Breaking of the Drought (1920),
45
Breaking the Waves (1996), 51, 55,
178, 331, 435, 436
Breathless (1960). See Á bout de
soufflé
Breen, Joseph, 108, 109, 111, 112,
117, 118, 119, 120
Bresson, Robert, 81 – 85, 132, 179,
180, 262, 381, 426, 427, 438
Brewster McCloud (1970), 12
Bride and Prejudice (2004),
216 – 17, 368
The Brides of Dracula (1960), 445
Bride of Frankenstein (1935), 385
Brigadoon (1954), 331
Brigham Young (1940), 328, 459
Brigham Young University, 329; BYU
Motion Picture Studio, 329
Bright, Bill, 287, 318 – 19
Bringing Out the Dead (1999), 382
Britain, 85 – 91, 267, 444; British
cinema, 213, 243; British
colonialism, 32, 76; British
Colonial Office, 2; British crown,
130; British Empire, 453; British
film, 154, 328; British government,
412; British slave trade, 135; hatred
of, 62 – 63; National Lottery, 85. See
also England; United Kingdom
British Broadcasting Corporation
(BBC), 194
British Sky Broadcasting (BSkyB), 4
Broadway (Manhattan), 91, 130

Broadway Danny Rose (1984), 7
Brokeback Mountain (2005), 339,
363, 462
Broken Arrow (1950), 15
Bromont-Lamothe, France, 81
Broncho Billy. See Anderson, G. M
Broncho Billy’s Sentence (1915), 397
Bronenosets Potyomkin (Battleship
Potemkin, 1925), 376
Bronx, New York, 7
Brooklyn, New York, 55, 91, 299;
Flatbush, 7
Brooks, Mel, 10, 91 – 95, 462
Brooks, Peter, 219
Brother Bear (2003), 28, 31
Brother Sun, Sister Moon (1972). See
Fratella sole, sorella luna
The Brotherhood of Satan (1971),
154
Brown, James, 72
Brown, Norman, 18
Browning, Tod, 232
Bruce Almighty (2003), 197, 198
Brugundians, 260
BSkyB. See British Sky Broadcasting
Buck and the Preacher (1972), 133
Budapest, Hungary, 153
Buddha, 96, 249 – 50, 252, 333, 335,
339, 377, 447 – 48; Buddha-like,
369; Great Buddha, 344; Maitreya/
Miroku (the future Buddha), 322
Buddha (1961). See Shaka
Buddhism, 95 – 98, 123, 135, 181,
189, 191, 250, 251, 282, 321, 324,
326, 327, 331, 339, 343, 344, 368,
403; bodhisattva, 252 – 53, 310,
322, 326. See also specific Buddhist
movements
Buddhists, 425, 459
Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1992), 444
Index | 591
Bugs Bunny’s Third Movie: 1001
Rabbit Tales (1982), 245
Bull Durham (1988), 403 – 4
Buñuel, Luis, 99 – 102, 132, 179, 438
Bunyan, John, 211, 316, 397
Il Buono, il brutto, il cattivo (The
Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, 1966),
297
Burkina Faso (formerly Upper Volta), 2
Burma, 251; Burmese Buddhism, 96
The Burmese Harp (1956). See
Biruma no tategoto
Burn Witch Burn (1970). See Hexen
bis aufs Blut genquält
The Burning Hell (1974), 318
The Burning Times (1990), 466
Burroughs, William, 154
Burstyn, Ellen, 391
Burstyn, Joseph, 313, 314
Burton, Harold (U.S. Supreme Court
Justice), 314
Burton, Tim, 410
Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee
(2007, television), 17
The Business of Fancydancing (2002),
17, 18
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
(1969), 460
Butler, Judith, 464
Cabeza de Vaca (1991), 294, 368
Cabeza de Vaca, Alvar Nuñez, 294
Cabin in the Sky (1943), 153
Caesar, Sid, 92
Le Cabinet de Méphistophélès (The
Cabinet of Mephistopheles, 1896),
152
The Cabinet of Mephistopheles
(1896). See Le Cabinet de
Méphistophélès
592 | Index
Cahiers du cinema, 47, 48, 438
Caiaphas, 151
Cain and Abel, 291
Cairo, Egypt, 2, 34, 35; Cairo
University, 35
Cairo as Told by Youssef Chahine
(1991). See al-Qahira munawwara
bi ahliha.
Cairo Station (1958). See Bab el-Hadid
Calanda, Spain, 99
California, 24, 97, 286, 393, 394,
429, 430
California Angels, 407
California Split (1974), 12
The Callahans and the Murphys (1927),
108, 399
Calvin College, 381
Calvinist theology, 397
Cambridge University, 87, 405
Cambodia, 95, 451; Cambodian
ruins, 143
Camelot (1967), 305
Cameroon, 3, 453
Campbell, Joseph, 175, 339, 460
Campus Crusade for Christ, 287,
318
Camus, Albert, 56, 59
Canadian Artic, 28
Canadians, 170; Afghani-Canadian,
243; French Canadian, 133, 257
Canby, Vincent, 441
Cannes Film Festival, 85, 100, 136,
415, 433, 435
Cannibalism, 241, 450
Cannibals of the South Seas (1912),
239
Cannon Productions, 247
The Canterbury Tales (1972). See
Racconti di Canterbury
Cantwell, John (Bishop), 117, 118
Cape Fear (1962; 1991), 392
Cape Town, South Africa, 5
Capital (Marx), 349
Capra, Frank, 21 – 22, 103 – 7, 129, 212
Captain Kronos—Vampire Hunter
(1974), 448
Car Wash (1976), 133
The Cardinal (1963), 130
Caribbean Sea, 450; Caribbean
island, 453
Carne, Marcel, 180
Carnegie Trust, 2
Carpenter, John, 286, 382
Carrera, Carlos, 290
Carroll, Lewis, 194
Carver, Raymond, 13
Casillo, Robert, 391
Casino (1995), 392
Cassiopeia, 204
Castle in the Sky (1986). See Tenku no
Shiro Rapyuta
Casualties of War (1989), 362
Cat Ballou (1965), 462
Cathedral Films, 316, 317
Cathedral of the Assumption (Moscow),
374
Catholic Communication Campaign,
113. See also Catholic League
for Religious and Civil Rights;
Legion of Decency; National
Catholic Office for Motion
Pictures (NCOMP); U.S. Catholic
Conference Office for Film and
Broadcasting
Catholic League for Religious and
Civil Rights, 24, 113, 114, 402.
See also Catholic Communication
Campaign; Legion of Decency;
National Catholic Office for Motion
Pictures (NCOMP); U.S. Catholic

Conference Office for Film and
Broadcasting
Catholic Reformation, 449
Catholic Church, 30, 42, 63, 89, 99,
112, 115, 177, 179, 183, 185, 186,
201, 230, 260, 274, 290, 291, 293,
390, 445, 468. See also Roman
Catholic Church
Catholicism, 107 – 15, 142, 178, 179,
183, 236, 261, 273, 293, 336, 352,
401, 404, 410, 435, 445, 447, 448,
449, 450; “popular” Catholicism,
294; Tridentine Catholicism, 353.
See also Roman Catholicism
Catholics, 107 – 15, 118, 201, 230,
236, 237, 288, 314, 348, 351, 352,
399, 458, 459; and non-Catholics,
119, 449. See also Roman Catholics
Catwoman (2004), 411
Cavalier, Alain, 180
CBS. See Columbia Broadcasting
System
Ceddo (Outsiders, 1977), 3
The Celebration (1998). See Festen
Celebrity (1998), 9
Censorship, 24, 32, 34, 68, 86, 108,
177, 188, 313, 314, 374, 375, 394,
399, 420; censors, 109, 132, 251;
censorship in Hollywood, 115 – 22,
150. See also Bannings
Central America, 242. See also Latin
America
Central Asia, 95. See also Asia
Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), 97
C’era una volt ail West (Once Upon a
Time in the West, 1968), 297, 298
C’est arrive pres de chez vous (Man
Bites Dog, 1992), 341
Cet obscure objet du désir (That
Obscure Object of Desire, 1977), 99
Index | 593
Chad, 3
Chadha, Gurinder, 89
Chahine, Youssef, 2, 32, 34, 35, 36
Chain of Command (1994), 247
Chamberlain, Lindy and Azaria, 43
Ch’an (Zen), 95
Chan, Peter, 123, 127
Chandni (Moonlight, 1989), 78
Chaney, Lon, 398
Change of Habit (1969), 111, 131
Changing Lanes (2002), 430
The Chant of Jimmie Blacksmith
(1978), 41
Chaplin, Charlie, 398
Charles VII, King, 259 – 60
Chariots of Fire (1981), 87 – 88, 89,
90, 131, 362, 403, 405
Charlie’s Angels (TV), 155
Le Charme discret de la bourgeoisie
(The Discreet Charm of the
Bourgeoisie, 1972), 101
Charney, Leo, 333
La Charrette fantôme (The Phantom
Wagon, 1939), 332
Chasing Amy (1997), 401
Cheyenne, 16. See also American
Indians
Chi gong, 127
Chiba, Sonny, 416
Chicago, Illinois, 117, 316
Chichi ariki (There Was a Father,
1942), 343
Un Chien andalou (An Andalusian
Dog, 1929), 99
Children of Heaven (1997). See
Bacheha—Ye aseman
Children of the Corn (1984), 131
Children Shouldn’t Play with Dead
Things (1972), 155
Chile, 179; Chilean film, 295
594 | Index
China, 95, 98, 123 – 28, 129, 130, 131;
Imperial China, 96
Ching, Siu-Tang, 97
Chocolat (2000), 133, 178
Chôjin densetsu Urotsukidôji (Legend
of the Overfiend, 1989), 253
Chopra, Yash, 78
The Chosen (1981), 134, 368, 404
The Chosen (Potok), 404
Chow, Stephen, 98
Chrétien de Troyes, 84
Christ, Carol, 466
Christensen, Benjamin, 232
Christensen, Bernard, 154
The Christian (1911), 40
Christian Bible, 68. See also Bible;
Holy Scripture; New Testament
Christian Democrats, 348
The Christian Herald, 398
Christian – Jewish relationships, 225,
229, 230, 231
Christmas, 21, 105, 106, 223, 372;
Christmas Eve, 224
A Christmas Carol (1908), 220,
223 – 24
A Christmas Carol (Dickens), 21, 222,
372
A Christmas Story (1984, television),
155
The Chronicle of May Rain (1924).
See Samidare zoshi
The Chronicles of Narnia (Lewis), 66
The Chronicles of Narnia: the Lion,
the Witch, and the Wardrobe (2005),
69 – 70, 175
Chronos. (1993). See Cronos
Chudotvornaya (The Miracle Worker,
1960), 377
Chung King, China, 447
The Church and the Woman (1917), 42
Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day
Saints (LDS), 327, 329. See also
Mormonism; Mormons
CIA. See Central Intelligence Agency
Cidade de Deus (City of God, 2002),
55, 293
Cinema Magazine, 381
Cinema Paradiso (1988). See Nuovo
cinema Paradiso
Cinema verité, 262
The Circus (1928), 398
Cissé, Souleymane, 5
Citti, Sergio, 350
City of Angels (1998), 23 – 25, 180
City of God (2002). See Cidade de
Deus
Civil Rights era, 133
Clancy’s Kosher Wedding (1927), 399
The Clansman (Dixon), 239
Clark, Arthur C., 384
Clark, Tom (U.S. Supreme Court
Justice), 314
Clash of the Titans (1981), 203, 204,
206
Cleopatra (1963), 203
Clergy, 128 – 36. See also specific
religious denomination and,
traditions
Clerks (1994), 401
Clerks II (2006), 401
Cleveland, Ohio, 118
Cloche, Maurice, 179 – 80
A Clockwork Orange (1971), 277
Close Encounter of the Third Kind
(1977), 388
The Closed Doors (1999). See
al-Abwab al-moghlaka
Cloud Ten Pictures, 319
Clouds over Borsk (1960). See Tuchi
nad Borskom

Cochise, 15 – 16. See also American
Indians
Cocteau, Jean, 82, 205 – 6, 331
Coen, Joel and Ethan, 136 – 41, 157
Coeur d’Alene, 372. See also
American Indians
Cohen, Eli, 225
The Cohens and the Kellys (1926), 399
Cold Mountain (2003), 371
Cold Turkey (1971), 131
Cold War, 23, 112, 130, 150, 173
Collateral (2004), 339
College for Theatre Technicians,
272 – 73
Colonial Film Units, 2
The Color of Money (1986), 392
The Color Purple (1985), 72
Colorado, 97
Colossus: The Forbin Project
(1970), 173
Columbia Broadcasting System
(CBS), 155
Columbia Pictures, 103, 154
Columbia University, 381
Columbus Ohio Centenary, 396
Come Back to the Five and Dime,
Jimmy Dean, Jimmy Dean
(1982), 13
Come to the Stable (1949), 110
A Corner in Wheat (1909), 395
Commercialism, 195, 262
Communism, 112
Communists, 123, 227, 347, 375
Como, Perry, 91
Compiegne, France, 260
Comstock Act (1873), 116
Un condamné à mort s’est échappé
ou Le vent soufflé où il veut (A Man
Escaped, or The Wind Bloweth
Where it Listeth, 1956), 82 – 83, 179
Index | 595
The Confession (1920), 128
Confidentially Yours (1983). See
Vivement dimanche
Confucianism, 123, 126, 128, 251;
Confucian patriarchy, 124; Con-
fucian values, 125, 127
Confucius, 125
Connor, Ralph, 396 – 97
The Conqueror Worm (1968). See
Witchfinder General
Conquest of Planet of the Apes
(1972), 172
Conrad, Joseph, 143
Conspiracy of Terror (1975), 155
Constantine (2005), 134, 411
Contact (1997), 385
The Conversation (1974), 141, 142,
143, 145
Conversations across the Bosphorus
(1995), 468
The Convert (1911), 395
Coppola, Francis Ford, 11, 113,
141 – 45, 446
Coppola, Sofia, 97
Coptic Christianity, 37; Copts, 32
Corinthians, Epistle to the, 70, 252
Corman, Roger, 153
Courrier sud (Southern Carrier,
1937), 82
Cours Toujours (Dad on the Run,
2000), 368
The Craft (1996), 305
Crane, Bob, 382
Craven, Wes, 454
Creature With the Atom Brain
(1955), 452
Crime and Punishment
(Dostoyevsky), 83
Crimes and Misdemeanors (1989), 7,
8, 9, 10, 53, 54
596 | Index
The Crime of Father Amaro (2002).
See El Crimen del Padre Amaro
El Crimen del Padre Amaro (The
Crime of Father Amaro, 2002), 133,
290, 291, 292
Crimes of Passion (1984), 131
The Critic (1963), 92
Crocodile Dundee (1986), 239
Cromwell, Oliver, 40
Cronos (Chronos, 1993), 444
Cross Inscribed in the Star of David
(1997). See Wpisany w gwiazde
Davida
Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon
(2000). See Wo Hu Cang Long
The Crucible (1957; 1996), 305
The Crucible (Miller), 305
Cruise into Terror (1978, television),
155
Crusades, 58, 178, 446, 449
Cry, the Beloved Country (1952;
1995), 133
CSI (TV), 418
Cuba, 292, 451; Cuban film, 290, 291
Cukor, George, 465
Curb Your Enthusiasm (television), 92
Cushing, Peter, 156, 444
Cyborg (1989), 359
Cyclops, 139
Cypher (2002), 359 – 60
Czechoslovakia, 230
Dad on the Run (2000). See Cours
Toujours
Dagon, 411
Dahomey. See Benin
Da hong deng long gao gao gua
(Raise the Red Lantern, 1991),
123, 124
Daily News, 429
Dalai Lama, 135, 181, 335, 392, 393
Dalí, Salvador, 99, 179
Les dames du Bois de Boulogne
(Ladies of the Bois de Bologne,
1945), 82
Damien: Omen II (1978), 134, 171
Dancer in the Dark (2000), 435, 436
Dances with Wolves (1990), 16, 368
Daniel, Book of, 386
Danish Broadcasting Company, 178,
434
Danish Film Institute, 433 – 34, 437
Dante (Aligheri), 61, 104, 105
Danube River, 445
Daoism, 123, 125, 126, 127, 128;
Dao De Jing, 126, 127. See also
Taoism
Daratt (Dry Season, 2006), 3
Daredevil (2003), 357, 410
Dark City (1998), 386
Dark Habits (1983). See Entre
Tinieblas
The Dark Secret of Harvest Home
(1978), 155
Dark Shadows (television), 447, 448
Darwin, Charles, 99
Dash, Julie, 467, 468
Dassin, Jules, 205
Daughters of Satan (1972), 154
Daughters of the Dust (1991), 467
David and Bathsheba (1951), 67
David and Goliath, 398
DaVinci, Leonardo, 101
Davis, Wade, 454
Dawn, Norman, 40
Dawn of the Dead (1978), 452, 453
Day, Dorothy, 115
Day, Laraine, 328
Day for Night (1973). See La Nuit
Américaine

A Day in the Country (1936). See
Partie de campagne
Day of the Dead (1985), 452
Day of Triumph (1954), 317
Day of Wrath (1943). See Vrendens
dag
The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951),
172, 386, 387
Dayton, Lyman, 329
DC/Vertigo comics, 411
DEA. See Drug Enforcement
Agency
Dead Man Walking (1995), 135
Dear Wendy (2005), 434
Death of a Princess (1980, television),
244
The Death of Ivan Ilyich (Tolstoy),
280
Death Takes a Holiday (1934), 332
De Azevedo, Lex, 329
Decalogue (1989). See Dekalog
Il Decameron (The Decameron, 1971),
179
The Decameron (1971). See Il
Decameron
Deconstructing Harry (1997), 7, 8
Deep Cover (1992), 430
Deep Impact (1998), 430
Defending Your Life (1991), 333
De Gastyne, Marc[o], 261
Dekalog (1989), 180, 274, 275
Delannoy, Jean, 262, 331
Delilah, 464
Delman, David, 155
The Delta Force (1986), 247
Del Toro, Guillermo, 412
Dementia 13 (1963), 141
Demian (Hesse), 333
DeMille, Cecil B., 67, 69, 147 – 51,
236, 254, 261, 328, 398
Index | 597
Demons, 55, 153, 154, 173, 195, 233,
253, 262, 282, 303, 369, 384, 388,
393, 411, 412. See also Devil
Demon Seed (1977), 173
Den goda viljan (Best Intentions, 1992),
177
De Niro, Robert, 392
Denmark, 160, 161, 177, 433, 434, 436
The Departed (2006), 392
Departure of a Grand Old Man
(1912). See Ukhod velikovo startza
Deren, Maya, 333
Le Dernier Metro (The Last Metro,
1981), 180
Descartes, René, 311
The Descent of the Ganga (1937). See
Gangavataran
Desi, 217
De Sica, Vittorio, 178, 181
Des Moines, Iowa, 318
Destiny (1997). See al-Masir
Deuteronomy, 164
Devi (The Goddess, 1960), 218
Devigny, Andre, 82
Devil, 43, 63, 139, 152 – 56, 236, 334,
335, 394; Devil worshipping, 455;
Guardian devil, 410
The Devil and Daniel Webster (1941),
153
The Devil and the Statue (1902). See
Le Diable géant ou Le Miracle de
la madonne
Devil at 4 O’Clock (1961), 130
Devil Dog: The House of Hell (1978,
television), 155
The Devil in the Convent (1899), 152
The Devil Probably (1977). See Le
diable, probablement
The Devil Rides Out (also known as
The Devil’s Bride, 1968), 154 – 55
598 | Index
The Devil’s Advocate (1997), 335
The Devil’s Camera (Martell and
Brunett), 424
The Devil’s Daughter (1939), 451
The Devil’s Daughter (1973), 155
The Devil’s Hand (1962), 153
The Devil’s Men (also known as Land
of the Minotaur, 1976), 156
The Devil’s Partner (1962), 153
The Devil’s Rain (1975), 154
The Devil Wears Prada (2006), 371
Devlin, Fr. John, 108
Al-Dhakira al-khisba (Fertile
Memory, 1980), 37
Le diable, probablement (The Devil
Probably, 1977), 84
Le Diable géant ou Le Miracle de la
madonne (The Devil and the Statue,
1902), 152
Diamond, Neil, 334
Diary of a Country Priest (1951). See
Journal d’un cure de champagne
Diary of a Mad Black Woman (2005),
72, 73, 133
The Diary of Anne Frank (1959),
226, 229
Der Dibuk (The Dybbuk, 1937),
265, 332
Dick, Philip K., 384
Dickens, Charles, 222, 226, 372
Diderot, Denis, 82
Et Dieu . . . créa la femme (. . . And God
Created Woman, 1956), 464
Dimension (unfinished film), 434
Diné (Navajo), 15, 18. See also
American Indians
Dinneen, Fr. FitzGeorge, 117
Direktøren for det hele (The Boss of It
All, 2006), 435
The Discreet Charm of the
Bourgeoisie (1972). See Le Charme
discret de la bourgeoisie
Disney. See Walt Disney Company
Disney, Walt, 27, 153
Disneyland, 196
Dispensational theology, 363
A Distant Thunder (1978), 169
The Divine Comedy (Dante), 61, 105
Divine Intervention, 2002. See Yaddun
ilahiya
Diwali, 79, 80
Dix, Richard, 15
Dixon, Thomas, 239
Al-Djanna al’an (Paradise Now,
2005), 38, 39
Doctor Dolittle (1967; 1998), 339
Dr. Strangelove (1964), 167
The Doe Boy (2001), 17
Dogma (1999), 20, 24 – 25, 114, 132,
200 – 201, 401
Dogme 95, 156 – 59, 161, 434 – 35
Dogville (2003), 436
Doig, Agnes, 41
Doig, Wattie, 41 – 42
La dolce vita (The Sweet Life, 1960),
185, 186
Dome of the Rock (Jerusalem),
38, 269
Dominion: Prequel to the Exorcist
(2005), 383
La donna del fiume (The River Girl,
1955), 347
Donner, Richard, 409
Donnie Darko (2001), 167, 336, 342
Donovan (Donovan Philips Leitch),
334
A Door to the Sky (1989). See Bab
al-sama maftuh

Don’t (1998). See Meschugge
Donzoko (The Lower Depths,
1957), 282
El Dorado, 28, 30, 143
Dornford-May, Mark, 5
Dostoyevsky, Fyodor, 56, 83, 84,
419, 431
The Double Life of Véronique (1991).
See La double vie de Véronique
La double vie de Véronique (The
Double Life of Véronique, 1991),
272, 274
Doubt (2009), 135
Doughton, Russell S., 318
Douglas, Mary, 232
Douglas, William (U.S. Supreme
Court Justice), 313
Dovzhenko, Aleksandr, 375 – 76
Downfall of Osen (1935). See Orizuru
Osen
Dracul, Vlad, 144, 446
Dracula (1931), 232, 445
Dracula (1979), 444
Dracula (Stoker), 444
Dracula 2000 (2000), 446
Dracula: Dead and Loving It (1995),
92
Dracula’s Daughter (1936), 447
A Dream of Passion (1978). See
Kravigi Gynaikon
Dreamworks, 28
Dreyer, Carl Theodor, 132, 159 – 62,
177, 178, 332, 381, 435
Drug Enforcement Agency (DEA), 64
Drums O’Voodoo (1934), 451
The Drunkard’s Reformation
(1909), 395
Dry Season (2006). See Daratt
Duel in the Sun (1946), 120, 121
Index | 599
Dummar, Melvin, 328
Dusseldorf, Germany, 180
Duvalier, Jean-Claude “Baby
Doc,” 454
Dystopia, 163 – 66, 322, 385
E.T. the Extra Terrestrial (1982), 388
Early Spring (1956). See Soshun
Early Summer (1951). See Bakushû
The Early Years: Erik Nietzsche, Part I
(2007). See De unge år: Erik
Nietzsche sagaen del 1
Earth (1930). See Zemlya
Earth (1998), 247, 339, 467
The Earth Dies Screaming (1965), 452
Eastern religions, 387. See also
specific religious traditions
East Africa, 2, 4
East Asian culture, 411
East Coast, United States, 458
Easter, 222, 372
Eastern Europe, 265, 271, 274
Eastman Kodak, 396
Eastwood, Clint, 363, 461, 462
Easy Rider (1968), 337
Easy Street (1917), 398
Eat a Bowl of Tea (1989), 96
Eat Drink Man Woman (1994). See
Yin shin an nu
Ebert, Roger, 11
Eco, Umberto, 180
Eden, 45, 461, 340
Edison, Thomas Alva, 394
Edipo Re (Oedipus Rex, 1967), 203
Egypt, 22, 26, 27, 32, 34, 35 – 36, 37,
101, 148, 150, 340, 451
8½ (1963), 184, 185
Eight Crazy Nights (2002), 372
Einstein, Albert, 8
600 | Index

Eisenstein, Sergei, 49, 376 – 77 Entre Tinieblas (Dark Habits, 1983),

The Electric Horseman (1979), 462 179
Elektra (2005), 411 Entuziazm: Simfoniya Donbassa
The Element of Crime (1984). See (Enthusiasm, 1931), 376
Forbrydelsens element Epidemic (1987), 436
Elements trilogy. See Earth; Fire; Episcopal Church, 147; Episcopalian
Water minister, 364. See also Clergy
The Elephant Man (1980), 232 – 33 Epstein, Jean, 99
Eliade, Mircea, 175 Ernest in the Army (1998), 246
Elmer Gantry (1960), 130, 362 Esau, 3
Elmer Gantry (Lewis), 399 Escape from Planet of the Apes
El Salvador, 115, 135 (1971), 172
The Emigrant (1994). See al-Muhajir ESP. See Extra sensory perception
Emishi tribe, 322. See also Indigenous Esperanto (language), 154
peoples; Native peoples; specific Esprit, 48
groups Essanay Studios, 397
Emmerich, Sr. Anne Catherine, 353 Esther, Book of, 265
Emmy award, 91 L’Eternal Retour (Love Eternal,
Empire State building (Manhattan), 1942), 331
389 Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
End of Days (1999), 430 (2004), 54
The End of the Spear (2005), 361 Eucatastrophe, 104, 174 – 77
End-of-the-world films, 167 – 73, Eucharist, 113
318, 339 Euripides, 205
Enemies, A Love Story (1989), Europa (1991), 436
226, 228 Europa, Europa (1991), 181, 227
An Enemy of the People (1989). See Europe, 4, 32, 34, 47, 69, 91, 99, 145,
Ganashatru 159, 177 – 82, 193, 231, 265, 328,
An Enemy of the People (Ibsen), 218 434, 435, 436, 447, 466; Old
L’Enfant Sauvage (The Wild Child, World, 391
1970), 440 European Union, 169
L’Enfer (Hell, 2005), 180, 275 Europeans, 239, 453
Engakuji temple (Kamakura), 344 Eurydice, 205
England, 40, 41, 90, 177, 452 Eusebius, 150
The English Patient (1996), 247 Evangelical Lutheran Church in
Enlightenment, 302 – 3, 355 America, 288
The Ensign, 330 Evangelicals, 318, 353
Entertaining Angels (1996), 115 Evangelism, 147, 150, 353, 395, 398
Enthusiasm. (1931). See Entuziazm: Eve, 464
Simfoniya Donbassa Eve of Destruction (1991), 359

Every Man for Himself and God
Against All (also known as The
Enigma of Kaspar Hauser, 1974).
See Jeder fur Sich un Gott Gegen
Alle
Everyone Says I Love You (1996), 10
Everything Remains for the People
(1963). See Vsyo ostayotsya
lyudyam
Evil Angels (1988), 43
Evilspeak (1981), 236
Excalibur (1981), 305
Executive Decision (1996), 243,
246, 247
Existentialism, 48, 177, 334; Christian
existentialism, 49
Exodus, 26, 222, 267, 278
The Exorcist (1973), 114, 134, 153,
171, 234 – 35, 236, 237, 333, 334
Expiration Date (2006), 17
Explorations in Theology and Film
(Marsh and Ortiz), 187, 188
Extra sensory perception (ESP), 173
Eyre, Chris, 18
Ezekiel, Book of, 416
Le Fabuleaux Destin d’Amelie
Poulain (The Fabulous Destiny of
Amelie Poulain, 2001), 180
The Fabulous Destiny of Amelie
Poulain (2001). See Le Fabuleaux
Destin d’Amelie Poulain
Fahrenheit 9/11 (2004), 337
Fährmann Maria (Death and the
Maiden, 1936), 332
Fail-Safe (1964), 172
Fairbanks, Douglas, 398
Faith and Film: Theological Themes
at the Cinema (Stone), 188
Falk, Peter, 22, 23
Index | 601
Fanny and Alexander (1982). See
Fanny och Alexander
Fanny och Alexander (Fanny and
Alexander, 1982), 132
Fantasia (1940), 27, 153
Fantasia 2000 (1999), 26
Fantastic Four (2005), 340
Faraway, So Close (1993). See In
weiter Ferne, so nah!
A Farewell to Arms (Hemingway), 117
Fargo (1996), 136, 139, 140
Fascism, 99, 183, 328, 347;
neofascists, 348
Father Brown (1954), 130
Father of the Bride II (1995), 244
Father Sergius (1917). See Otets
Sergiy
Fatima, Portugal, 112
Faust (1915), 152
Faust, A German Folktale (1926). See
Faust—Eine deutsche Volkssage
Faust—Eine deutsche Volkssage
(Faust, A German Folktale, 1926),
152
FBI. See Federal Bureau of Investi-
gation
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
(1998), 196
Fear and Trembling (Kierkegaard), 50
Fearless (2006). See Huo Yuan Jia
The Fearless Vampire Killers
(1967), 447
Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI),
17, 246, 412
Federal Council of Churches, 117
Fellini, Federico, 178, 183 – 87, 194,
331, 347
A Female Cabby in Sidi Bel-Abbes
(2000). See Une femme taxi à Sidi
Bel-Abbes
602 | Index
De fem benspœnd (The Five
Obstructions, 2003), 434
Feminism, 61
Feminists, 468
Une femme douce (A Gentle Woman,
1969), 84
Femme fatale, 464, 465
Fertile Memory (1980). See
Al-Dhakira al-khisba
FESPAC. See Pan-African Film and
TV Festival of Ouagadougou
Festen (The Celebration, 1998), 158
Fiddler on the Roof (1971), 134, 368
Field of Dreams (1989), 403, 406, 407
The Fifth Element (1997), 61, 62, 134,
180, 466
The Fighting 69th (1940), 109, 129
The Fighting Sullivans (1944), 109
Film as religion, 187 – 92
Film as Religion: Myths, Morals, and
Rituals (Lyden), 189, 190 – 91
Film noir, 175, 464
The Films of Andrei Tarkovsky: A
Visual Fugue (Johnson and
Petrie), 421
The Final Conflict (1981), 134
Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within
(2001), 176
Fine Line Features, 11
Finland, 160
Finley, Jeanne, 468
Il fiore delle Mille e una note
(Arabian Nights, 1974), 179
Fire (1996), 339, 467
The Fire and the Rain (2002). See
Agni Varsha
The Fisher King (1991), 194, 195,
331, 371
A Fistful of Dollars (1964). See Per
un pugno di dollari
A Fistful of Dynamite (1971). See Giù
la testa
The Five Obstructions (2003). See De
fem benspœnd
Flanagan, Fr. Edward, 109
Flatliners (1990), 335, 425
Flax, Judith, 464
Fleming, Victor, 111
The Flood, 307
Flossmoor, Illinois, 307
The Flying Nun (television), 131
A Fond Kiss (2004). See Ae Fond Kiss
Ae Fond Kiss (A Fond Kiss, 2004), 90
Footloose (1984), 131
For a Few Dollars More (1965). See
Per qualche dollar in più
Forbidden Marriages in the Holy
Land (1995). See Al Zawadj
al-mukhtalat fi-l-ardi al-muqadassa
Forbidden Planet (1956), 387
Forbrydelsens element (The Element
of Crime, 1984), 435 – 36
Ford, John, 328, 363
Fordham University, 391
Forever (1921), 331
The Forgiven Sinner (1961). See Léon
Morin, prête
Forman, Tom, 398
The Forsaken (2001), 446
For the Term of His Natural Life
(1927), 40
Foucault, Michel, 358
Four Christmases (2008), 368
The 400 Blows (1959). See Les quatre
cents coups
Four Nights of a Dreamer (1971). See
Quatre nuits d’un reveur
Four Weddings and a Funeral (1994),
89, 132, 368
Fox, Michael J., 362

The Fox and the Hound (1981), 329
Foxman, Abraham, 351
Frailty (2001), 55
France, 34, 35, 44, 47, 81, 100, 101,
132, 157, 159, 177, 179, 181,
259 – 61, 263, 274, 433; French
critics, 397; French film industry,
438, 439; French New Wave, 47,
437, 439
France-Culture, 423
Francesco, giullare di Dio (The
Flowers of St. Francis, 1950),
178, 184
Francis (of Assisi), 178, 333 – 34, 349
Franciscans, 180, 334, 348
Frank, Anne, 226
Frank, Otto, 226
Frankenstein (1931), 232, 385
Frankenstein (Shelley), 384
Frankfurter, Felix (U.S. Supreme
Court Justice), 314
Frankl, Viktor, 175
Fraser, Peter, 427
Fratella sole, sorella luna (Brother
Sun, Sister Moon, 1972), 333
Fraternal Order of Eagles, 151
Frazer, James, 303
Fresa y Chololate (Strawberries and
Chocolate, 1994), 292
Freud, Sigmund, 53
Friday the 13th (1980), 232
Friedrich, James Kempe, 316, 317
Friendly Persuasion (1956), 364
Fright Night (1985), 448
The Frisco Kid (1979), 134, 462
From Dusk Till Dawn (1996), 444
La Frontera (The Frontier, 1991), 295
The Frontier (1991). See La Frontera
The Fugitive (1947), 129
The Fugitive (1993), 372
Index | 603
Fulci, Lucio, 453
Full Circle (1993), 466
Fuller Theological Seminary, 363
Fundamentalism, 85, 90, 157, 164,
187, 342
The Funeral (1984). See Ososhiki
Galdós, Benito Pérez, 100
Ganashatru (An Enemy of the People,
1989), 218
Gandhi (1982), 219
Gandhi, Mohandas K. (Mahatma),
219
Gangavataran (The Descent of the
Ganga, 1937), 75
Gangs of New York (2002), 392
The Garden of Allah (1936), 111
Garden of Gethsemane, 62
The Garden of the Finzi-Continis
(1970). See Il Giardino dei
Finzi-Contini
The Gaucho (1928), 128, 398
Gaza, 38
Gelbart, Larry, 92
Geisel, Theodor Seuss, 222
Generation X, 21
La Genèse (Genesis, 1999), 3
Genesis, 20, 69, 137, 163, 211, 269,
294, 427, 464
Genesis (1999). See La Genèse
A Gentle Woman (1969). See Une
femme douce
Geographic Film Company, 316
Georgetown University, 236
Georgia, 467
Gere, Richard, 97
Germans, 82, 93, 94, 228, 246, 459
Germany, 23, 159, 180, 181, 266, 271,
332, 460; Nazi Germany, 94, 437
Gerry (2002), 342
604 | Index
Get Smart (television), 92
Ghana, 4, 5
Ghost (1990), 331
The Ghost Breakers (1940), 451
Ghost in the Shell (1995). See Kôkaku
kidôtai
The Ghoul (1933), 451
Il Giardino dei Finzi-Contini (The
Garden of the Finzi-Continis,
1970), 181
Gibson, Mel, 66, 68, 86, 237, 241,
350 – 53
Gidget (1959), 370
Gieogamah, Hanay, 17, 18
Gigi (1958), 370
Gilgamesh, 206
Gilliam, Terry, 193 – 97, 331
Gimbutas, Marija, 466
Giovanna d’Arco al Rogo (Joan of
Arc at the Stake, 1954), 178, 261
Girard, Rene, 189
Giù la testa (A Fistful of Dynamite,
1971), 297, 298
Gladiator (2000), 67, 203
Glass, Phillip, 335
Glaswegians, 90
Gleaming the Cube (1989), 429
Glengarry Glen Ross (1992), 307
Glengarry Glen Ross (stage), 307
Globalization, 341
Gnosticism, 191, 309, 310, 311, 339,
386 – 87; Christian Gnosticism, 331
Go Down Death (1944), 133
Go for Zucker! (2004). See Alles auf
Zucker!
Goa, India, 216
God, 197 – 203
God in the Movies (Greeley), 425
God Is My Co-Pilot (1945), 109
Godard, Jean-Luc, 47, 180, 347, 439
Goddess, 464, 466, 467
The Goddess (1960). See Devi
Goddess Remembered (1989), 466
The Godfather (1972), 70, 110, 113,
141, 142, 144, 368
The Godfather: Part II (1974), 70,
113, 141
The Godfather: Part III (1990), 70,
113, 142, 144
The Gods Must Be Crazy (1980), 239,
240
Godspell (1973), 255, 256, 372
Goebbels, Joseph 332
Going My Way (1944), 109 – 10, 129
Gojira (Godzilla, 1954), 389
The Golden Age (1930). See L’age d’or
“Golden age of Hollywood,” 129,
131, 232
Golden Braid (1990), 42
The Golden Child (1986), 96
Golden Fleece, 204
Golding, William, 335
Goldwyn, Samuel, 264
Der Golem (The Golem, 1920), 134,
232, 332
Le Golem (1936), 332
The Golem (1920). See Der Golem
Goodfellas (1990), 392
Gorbachev, Mikhail, 378
Gordon, Andrew, 189
Golden Temple (Amritsar), 216
Gone With the Wind (1939), 316
The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly
(1966). See Il Buono, il brutto, il
cattivo
Good Samaritan, 395, 425
The Good Wife of Tokyo (1992),
468
Gore, Al (Vice President), 172
Gorgon, 204
 Index | 605

Gorky, Maxim, 251 Greeley, Andrew, 425

Gorriss, Marleen, 465 The Green Pastures (1936), 133
Goskino, 419, 421 – 22 Greene, David, 255
Gospel Films, 317 Greene, Graham, 129
Gospels, 66, 149, 175, 179, 258, Gregoretti, Ugo, 347
285, 291, 348, 374, 386, 388, 424; Grey, Zane, 15
canonical Gospels, 256 – 57 Greystoke: The Legend of Tarzan,
The Gospel (2005), 363 Lord of the Apes (1984), 339
The Gospel According to Disney: Griffith, D. W. (David Llewelyn
Faith, Trust, and Pixie Dust Wark), 15, 107, 152, 160, 239 – 40,
(Pinsky), 188 265, 395, 396
The Gospel According to St. Matthew Ground Zero (1987), 246
(1964). See Il vangelo secondo Gruz 200 (Cargo 200, 2007), 379
Matteo The Guardian, 308
The Gospel Blimp (1967), 317 Guest, Christopher, 157
Gothic literature, 114, 179, 231, 232, Guilietta degli spiriti (Juliet of the
236, 444 Spirits, 1965), 184, 331
Gough, Michael, 155 Gulf Coast, United States, 294
Gould, Eliot, 11 Gulf War, 139
Gounod, Charles, 152 Gunning, Tom, 395
Graham, Billy, 40 Gutiérrez Alea, Tomás, 290
Graham, Franklin, 352 A Guy Named Joe (1943), 212
Grammy award, 91
Grand Canyon (1991), 52 Ha-Hesder (Time of Favor, 2000),
Grand Central Station (Manhattan), 195 269, 341 – 42
Grand Rapids, Michigan, 381 Hackers (1995), 359
Le Grand Voyage (2004), 368 Hades, 27
Grave of the Fireflies (1988). See Hadley, Henry, 394
Hotaru no haka Hagen, Walter, 407
The Great Commandment (1939), Haggard, Ted, 352
316 – 17 Haifa, Israel, 33
Great Depression, 139, 150, 316, “Hail Mary,” 113
407, 451 Hail Mary (1985). See “Je vous
Great War, 374. See also World War I Salue, Marie”
The Greatest Story Ever Told (1965), Haiti, 450, 451, 454
236, 255, 372 Haitians, 452
Greece, 204, 205; Greek island, 168 Haitian superstition, 455
Greek and Roman myths, 26, 139, Hajj, 368. See also Pilgrimage
203 – 7, 310, 340, 387; Greek gods, Hallelujah (1929), 133
27. See also specific figures Halloween, 223, 372
606 | Index
Halloween (1978), 233
Hallstrom, Lasse, 178
Hamas, 39
Hammer Films, 444
Hamor, 3
Han Dynasty, 123, 126.
The Handmaid’s Tale (1990), 163 – 64,
165, 166, 385
The Handmaid’s Tale (Atwood), 163
Hanging Rock (Australia), 45
Hannah and Her Sisters (1986), 7, 8
Hannukah, 226
Happiness (1934). See Schastye
Happy Times (2000). See Xingfu
shiguang
Hara, Setsuko, 345
Hardcore (1979), 382, 383
Hardware (1990), 359
Hark, Tsui, 127
“Hark! The Herald Angels Sing,” 105
Harmon, William E., 316
Haroun, Mahamat-Saleh, 3
Harrer, Heinrich, 181
Harrison, George, 194
Harry Potter and the Camber of
Secrets (2002), 305
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
(2005), 305
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of
Azkaban (2004), 305
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone
(2001), 305
Hart, William S., 397
Hasidism, 265, 268; Hasidic Jews,
265, 267, 268, 269, 335, 404
The Haunting (1999), 232
Hauptmann, Gerhard, 152
Hawaii, 95
Hawaii (1966), 131
Hawks, Howard, 48, 438
The Hawks and the Sparrows (1966).
See Uccellacci e uccellini
Häxan (The Witches, 1922), 154, 205,
232
Hays Code, 108
Hays Office, 115, 118 – 19, 120. See
also Production Code Admin-
istration (PCA)
Hays, Will H., 108, 116, 117, 118,
120, 399
HBO. See Home Box Office
HealtH (1980), 11
Heart of Darkness (Conrad), 143
Heaven, 209 – 14
Heaven (2002), 180, 213, 275
Heaven Can Wait (1978), 210, 212,
213
Heaven Help Us (1985), 131
Heavens Above (1963), 130
Hebrew Bible, 411. See also Bible;
Hebrew scripture; Old Testament;
Torah
The Hebrew Hammer (television), 269
Hebrew scripture, 65, 66. See
also Bible; Hebrew Bible; Old
Testament; Torah
Hebrews, 30, 223
Hector, 206
Heder, Jon, 330
Helfgott, David, 44
Hell, 153, 171, 195, 201, 209, 214,
252, 253, 283, 411, 412, 449, 453
Hell (2005). See L’Enfer
Hell’s Hinges (1916), 128, 397
Hell’s Kitchen (Manhattan), 382, 410
Hellblazer, 411
Hellboy (2004), 412
Hello, Dolly! (stage), 92
Help! (1965), 333
Hemingway, Ernest, 117

Henry, Buck, 92
Hera, 26
Hercules, 27
Hercules (1997), 26, 27, 340
Hercules: The Legendary Journeys
(television), 203
Here Comes Mr. Jordan (1941), 210
Hero (2002). See Ying xiong
The Hero (2006). See Zhivoy
Heroes of the Cross (1909), 40
Hershey, Barbara, 285
Herzl, Theodor, 137
Herzog, Werner, 143, 180, 181, 444
Hess, Dean, 129
Hess, Jared, 330
Hess, Jerusha, 330
Hesse, Hermann, 333
Hester Street (1975), 268
Hexen bis aufs Blut genquält (Burn
Witch Burn, 1970), 304
Hickok, “Wild” Bill, 372
Hicks, Scott, 44
The Hidden Fortress (1958). See
Kakuski-toride no san-akunin
Hideous Kinky (1998), 243
Hiemer, Leo, 230
Hier, Marvin, 351
High and Low (1963). See Tengoku to
jigoku
High Anxiety (1977), 92
High Noon (1952), 364, 460
High Plains Drifter (1973), 461
Highlands, New Jersey, 400
El Hijo de la Novia (The Son of the
Bride, 2001), 293
Der Himmel über Berlin (Wings of
Desire, also known as The Sky
Over Berlin, 1987), 21, 22 – 23, 24,
180, 212
Hindi cinema, 75. See also Bollywood
Index | 607
Hinduism, 76 – 80, 214 – 20, 331, 368,
404, 407; darshan, 79; darshanic
gaze, 76, 81; dharma, 77; gods and
goddesses, 75, 80, 217 – 18, 377,
467. See also specific figures and
texts
Hindus, 247; and non-Hindus, 220;
Thugees, 215
Hiroshima, Japan, 253, 389
His People (1925), 399
Historical Film Corporation of
America, 315 – 16
History of the World, Part I (1981), 94
Hitchcock, Alfred, 48, 92, 109, 153, 157,
438
Hitler, Adolf, 150, 227, 332
Hitler Youth, 181, 228
The Hitman (1991), 246
Hoffman, Deborah, 5
Hogan’s Heroes (television), 382
Holi, 80
Holiday Inn (1942), 220
Holiday of St. Jorgen, (1930). See
Prazdnik svyatogo Yorgena
Holidays, 220 – 25. See also specific
holidays
Hollaman-Eaves’s Passion Play
(1987), 394
Holland, Agnieszka, 181, 227, 273
Hollywood Production Code, 115,
118, 328, 460. See also Hays Code;
Production Code
Hollywood Ten, 317
Hollywood vs. America: Popular
Culture and the War Against
Traditional Values (Medved),
131, 288
Holocaust, 8, 163, 180, 225 – 31, 247,
266, 267, 308, 353; post-Holocaust,
94, 266
608 | Index
Holy Grail, 371; quest for, 193
The Holy Mountains (1973), 334
Holy Scriptures, 150
Home Box Office (HBO), 17, 142
Homer, 143, 176, 206
Homicide (1991), 307 – 8
Hong gao liang (Red Sorghum, 1987),
123, 124
Hong Kong, 123
Hoodoo, 454 – 55
Hook (1991), 369 – 70
Hoosiers (1986), 135
Hop, the Devil’s Brew (1916), 396
Hopi, 15. See also American Indians
Hopkins, Anthony, 362
Horror films, 134, 153, 209, 231 – 38
Hotaru no haka (Grave of the
Fireflies, 1988), 253
House of Evil (1974), 155
House of Flying Daggers (2004). See
Shi mian mai fu
House Un-American Activities
Committee (HUAC), 460
How the Grinch Stole Christmas!
(Seuss), 222
HUAC. See House Un-American
Activities Committee
Huang, Jianxin, 124
The Hudsucker Proxy (1994),
136, 140
Hughes, Howard, 119, 328, 392
Hugo, Victor, 437
Hulk (2003), 70, 357, 430
Hum Aapke Hain Koun . . .! (What am
I to You . . .!, 1994), 78
Humoresque (1920), 399
The Hunchback of Notre Dame
(1996), 30, 31
Hundred Years War, 259
Hungary, 225
Hunt, Claire, 468
The Hunt for Red October (1990), 372
Hurley, Neil P., 425
Huron, 41, 132. See also American
Indians
Huo Yuan Jia (Fearless, 2006), 125,
126, 127
Las hurdes (Land Without Bread, 1933),
99
Husbands and Wives (1992), 8
The Hustler (1961), 392
Hypocrites (1915), 128, 396
I, Robot (2004), 358 – 59, 385, 387
I, the Worst of All (1990). See Yo, La
Peor de Todas
I Am Legend (2007), 444
I Am Legend (Matheson), 448, 452
Ibsen, Henrik, 218
I Call First (also known as Who’s
That Knocking at My Door, 1967),
391
Ichikawa, Kon, 251
I Confess (1953), 109
I’d Climb the Highest Mountain
(1951), 130
The Idea of the Holy (Otto), 233
Identity (2003), 55
Idioterne (The Idiots, 1998), 435, 436
The Idiots (1998). See Idioterne
I Drink Your Blood (1970), 154
If Footmen Tire You, What Will Horses
Do? (1971), 318
IFCA. See International Federation of
Catholic Alumnae
Ifigeneia (Iphigenia, 1977), 203
Ifugao people (Luzon), 144
Igorot peoples (Luzon), 242
I ♥ Huckabees (2004), 342
Ikiru (1952), 280 – 81, 282, 283

Iliad (Homer), 203, 206
Illinois, 459
I Love Cinema (2004). See Baheb el
cima
Image of the Beast (1980), 169
Images (1972), 13
Images of the Passion (Fraser), 427
Images of Relief (1983). See
Befrielsesbilleder
I magi randagi (We Free Kings,
1996), 350
Imamura, Shohei, 253
‘Imarat al-Ya’ qubiyan (The
Yacoubian Building, 2006), 35
I Married a Witch (1942), 304
Immaculate conception, 112
Imperial Palace (Kyoto), 325
An Inconvenient Truth (2006), 172
The Incredible Hulk (2008), 340
The Incredible Shrinking Man (1957),
234
Incubus (1965), 154
Independence Day (1996), 319, 340,
372, 388
Independence Day (United States),
372
India, 75, 76, 78, 80, 95, 215, 216,
218, 219, 220; Partition, 247
Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade
(1989), 371
Indiana Jones and the Temple of
Doom (1984), 215
Indian Americans, 220
Indians, 217
Indigenous religions, 239 – 43,
294 – 95, 321; rituals, 368. See also
American Indian religion
Indo-Islamic culture, 80
Ines de la Cruz, Sor Juana, 291
Ingraham, J. H. (Joseph Holt), 150
Index | 609
Inherit the Wind (1960), 362
Inn of Sixth Happiness (1958), 130
Inquisition, 94, 160, 449
In the Company of Men (1997), 329
International Catholic Cinema
Organization. See Signis
International Church Films
Corporation, 315
International Federation of Catholic
Alumnae (IFCA), 108, 117, 118
International Missionary Council, 2
Internet, 196, 351, 385, 428
Interview with a Vampire (1994), 448
Intifada, 39
Intolerable Cruelty (2003), 137
Intolerance (1916), 107, 109, 160,
265, 396
Inuit, 28
The Invasion of the Body Snatchers
(1956; 1978), 388
Inventing the Dream: California
Through the Progressive Era
(Starr), 393 – 94
Invisible Invaders (1959), 452
The Invisible Man (Wells), 384
Iolcus, Greece, 204
Iowa, 407
Iphigenia (1977). See Ifigeneia
Iran, 245, 424; Iranian films, 243;
Iranian Revolution, 245, 424
Iranians, 244
I Remember (1973). See Amacord
Irenaeus (of Lyons), 174
Irish Catholics, 399; Irish Catholic
characters, 109, 299; Irish minister,
362; Irish priest, 111, 129;
Irish-Catholic town, 401.
See also Catholicism, Roman
Catholicism
“An Irish Lullaby,” 110
610 | Index
Iroquois, 41, 132. See also American
Indians
Isaac, 55
Iskandariyya . . . leh?
(Alexandria . . . Why?, 1978), 33
Islam, 2, 3, 32, 34, 37, 38, 43, 189,
243 – 48, 295, 368, 379, 403, 406;
Sufi Islam, 34, 243, 331. See also
Muslims
The Island (2006). See Ostrov
The Island of Dr. Moreau (Wells), 384
Israel, 27, 32, 33, 37, 38, 178, 228,
264, 269, 348, 353
Israelites, 151; priesthood, 30. See
also Hebrews
Istanbul, Turkey, 468
Italian Americans, 142; Italian
American culture, 393
It Happened One Night (1934),
104, 106
It’s a Wonderful Life (1946), 21–22, 61,
103, 105, 106, 110, 212, 220, 372
Italianamerican (1974), 391
Italy, 64, 155, 178, 183, 297, 348, 422,
457
Itami, Juzo, 251
Ivan Groznyy I (Ivan the Terrible Part
I, 1944), 377
Ivan Groznyy II: Boyarsky Zagovor
(Ivan the Terrible Part 2, 1958), 377
Ivanovo Destvo (My Name is Ivan,
1962), 419, 421
I Walked with a Zombie (1943),
235, 451
“I Wish We’d All Been Ready,” 318
Jabberwocky (1977), 194, 195
Jack (1996), 141
Jackie Brown (1997), 418
Jackson, Joe (“Shoeless Joe”), 407
Jackson, Kate, 155
Jackson, Peter, 175
Jackson, Robert (U.S. Supreme Court
Justice), 314
Jacob, 3, 20, 211, 378 – 79
Jacob’s Ladder (1990), 335
Jacobsen, Søren Krag, 157
Jacques le fataliste et son maitre
(Diderot), 82
Jai Santoshi Maa (In Praise of Mother
Santoshi, 1975), 78, 79, 80
Jai Santoshi Maa (2006), 78
Jakes, T. D. (Thomas Dexter),
71 – 72, 133
James, William, 50
Japan, 95, 249 – 54, 279, 282, 320 – 25,
326, 343 – 45, 460, 468; Japanese
religion, 320, 323
Jason, 204, 205
Jason and the Argonauts (1963;
2000), 204, 206
Jaws (1975), 233, 465
Jazz Age, 394
The Jazz Singer (1927; 1952; 1980),
134, 267
“Je vous Salue, Marie” (Hail Mary,
1985), 180
Jeanne d’Arc. See Joan of Arc
Jeanne d’Arc (1899), 260
Jeder fur Sich un Gott Gegen Alle
(Every Man for Himself and God
Against All, also known as The
Enigma of Kaspar Hauser,
1974), 180
Jeffords, Tom, 15 – 16
Jeles, Andras, 225
Jenkins, Jerry B., 170, 363
Jerry Springer: The Opera (2005), 288
Jersey Girl (2004), 401
“Jerusalem” (Blake), 87
 Index | 611

Jerusalem (1996), 177 Joan of Ozark (1942), 263

Jerusalem, Israel, 33, 38, 168, 178, Joan of Paris (1942), 263
349, 468; Mea Sharim, 269 Joan of Plattsburg (1918), 263
Jesse Lasky Feature Play Company, Joan the Maid (1935). See Das
147 Mädchen Johanna
Jesuits, 41, 99, 108, 132, 236 Joan the Woman (1917), 111, 261
Jesus, 254 – 59 Job, 56, 152, 198
Jesus (1979), 318; “The Jesus Film,” Jōdo (Pure Land) Buddhism, 95, 322
318 – 19 Jōdo Shinshu, 95
Jesus Christ Superstar (1973), 255, 372 Joe Versus the Volcano (1990), 239,
Jésus de Montréal (Jesus of Montreal, 241
1989), 133, 257 Joffe, Mark, 42
The Jesus Film Project, 319. See also Joffe, Roland, 88
Jesus (1979) Jofroi (1933), 313
Jesus films, 257, 258, 348, 464 Johar, Karan, 77
Jesus of Montreal (1989). See Jésus John, 168, 173
de Montréal John, Gospel of, 348, 404, 411
Jesus of Nazareth (1977), 69, 257, 266 John the Baptist, 310, 387
Jesus Seminar, 258 John XXIII, Pope, 349
The Jewel of the Nile (1985), 245 John Paul I, Pope, 113
Jewett, Robert, 427, 461 John Paul II, Pope, 272, 353
Jewish Bible, 68 Johnny Mnemonic (1996), 359
Jewish – Catholic relations, 351 Johnson, Jack, 117
Jewish mysticism, 134, 332; Johnson, Vida, 421
Gematria, 268; Kabbalah, 265, Johnston, Eric, 120
331 – 32 Johnston, Robert K., 187 – 88, 190, 427
Jewison, Norman, 255 Jonah: A VeggieTales Movie (2002),
Jews, 8, 37, 38, 43, 45, 67, 69, 93, 94, 26, 27
134, 181, 237, 264 – 69, 308, 332, Jonathan Livingston Seagull (1973),
351 – 53, 398 – 99, 458, 459; and the 334
Holocaust, 225 – 31 Jones, Bobby, 407
Jindra, Michael, 190 Joseph, 2, 34
Joan of Arc, 44, 61, 62 – 63, 83, 111, Joseph, husband of Mary, 184, 266,
120, 160, 161, 177, 178, 259 – 64 313
Joan of Arc (1895), 260 Joseph Burstyn, Inc., v. Wilson (1952),
Joan of Arc (1948), 111, 261 120, 314
Joan of Arc at the Stake (1954). See Josephus, 150
Giovanna d’Arco al Rogo Journal d’un cure de champagne
The Joan of Arc of Loos (1916), 44, (Diary of a Country Priest, 1951),
263 47, 82 – 83, 132, 179, 426, 427
612 | Index

Journey to the Center of the Earth Kakuski-toride no san-akunin

(Verne), 384 (The Hidden Fortress, 1958), 281
Journey to the East (Hesse), 333 Kali, 215, 218
Joy Luck Club (1993), 96 Kaliya Mardan (1917), 75
Joyner, Joyzelle, 150 Kamakura, Japan, 344
Ju Dou (1990), 123 Kaminsky, Melvin. See Brooks, Mel
Judaism, 3, 7, 30, 32, 38, 81, 83, 134, Kammarspel (Strindberg), 161
181, 225 – 31, 264 – 70, 295, 308, Kandahar (2001). See Safar e
404, 435 Ghandehar
Judas, Gospel of, 257 Kansas, 305 – 6, 334
Judas Iscariot, 149, 254 – 55, 256, 257, Kansas City, Missouri, 11
285, 298, 317, 387, 394, 446 Kanto, Japan, 326
Judgment (2001), 170 Kapoor, Raj, 76, 77
Jules and Jim (1962), 440 Kashmir (1951), 243
Julian Donkey Boy (1999), 159 Kawalerowicz, Jerzy, 273
Juliet of the Spirits (1965). See Kazantzakis, Nikos, 257, 285, 286,
Guilietta degli spiriti 382, 392
Jump, Herbert A., 395, 425 Kaze no tani no Naushika (Nausicaä
Jung, Carl, 175, 195; Jungian of the Valley of the Wind, 1984), 321,
psychoanalysis, 184 322
Der Junge Törless (Young Torless, Keeping the Faith (2000), 134,
1966), 181 268, 368
Jungfrukallan (The Virgin Spring, Keep Not Silent: Ortho-Dykes (2004).
1960), 178 See Et Sheaava Nafshi
Les jumeaux de Brighton (1936), 82 Kelly, Gene, 64
Jurassic Park (1993), 339 Ken Anderson Films, 317
Kensington Gardens (London), 370
“Kabhi Kushi Kabhie Gham,” 80 Kerouac, Jack, 97
Kabhi Kushi Kabhie Gham The Keys of the Kingdom (1944), 119,
(Sometimes Happiness, Sometimes 120, 129
Sorrow, 2001), 77, 79, 80 Khleifi, Michel, 37
Kabuki theater, 249, 282 Khotinenko, Vladimir, 379
Kachinas, 15. See also American Khrushchev, Nikita, 377
Indian religion; American Indians; The Kid (1921), 398
Hopi Kidman, Nicole, 436
Kadosh (1999), 269 Kierkegaard, Søren, 50, 51, 56, 161,
Kael, Pauline, 12, 13 310
Kagemusha (1980), 282, 283 Kieślowski, Krzysztof, 180, 213 – 14,
Kaikeyi, 77 271 – 75
Kakogiannis, Mihalis, 203 Kiev, Russia, 374

Kigali, Rwanda, 5
Kijowski, Janusz, 273
Kiju, Yoshida, 344
Kill Bill (2003; 2004), 418
Kilmer, Val, 17
Kimball, Heber C., 328
Kimball, Spencer W., 330
Kindred: The Embraced (1996), 449
King, Henry, 111
King, Martin Luther, Rev., 266
King, Stephen, 235, 277
The King and I (1956; 1999), 95, 329
The Kingdom (1994). See Riget
The Kingdom II (1997). See Riget II
Kingdom Come (2001), 71, 72, 73,
363
King Kong (1933; 1976; 2005), 232,
240, 241, 339, 389
King Lear (Shakespeare), 252
The King of Comedy (1983), 392
King of Kings (1961), 255
The King of Kings (1927), 69, 148,
149, 151, 254, 398
King Solomon’s Mines (1985), 247
Kinsey (2004), 121
Kiowa/Delaware, 17. See also
American Indians
Kipsigis (people), 29
Kiss Me, Kate (1953), 371
Kiss Me, Stupid (1964), 120 – 21
The Kiss of the Vampire (1963), 153,
447
Kiyomizu-dera temple (Kyoto), 344
Klann—Grand Guignol (1969), 263
Kôkaku kidôtai (Ghost in the Shell,
1995), 252
Kolker, Robert, 13
“Kol Nidre,” 399
Konigsberg, Allan Stewart. See Allen,
Woody
Index | 613
Korea, 95, 129
Korean War, 11
Koreeda, Hirokazu, 252
Korinne, Harmony, 159
Körkarlen (The Phantom Carriage,
1921), 332
Kosher Kitty Kelly (1925), 399
Kotto, Yaphet, 453
Koyaanisqatsi (1983), 335
K-PAX (2001), 336
The Kraft Music Hall (television),
91
Kragh-Jacobsen, Søren, 434
Kramer, Stanley, 364
Kravigi Gynaikon (A Dream of
Passion, 1978), 205
Kreitzer, Larry, 427
Kremlin (Moscow), 374
Krishna, 75, 339
Kristeva, Julia, 232
Krótki film o miłości (A Short Film
About Love, 1988), 274
Krótki film o zabijaniu (A Short Film
About Killing, 1988), 274
Kubrick, Stanley, 157, 235, 276 – 79,
333, 421
Ku Klux Klan, 139, 240
Kumonosu jô (Throne of Blood, 1957),
282
Kundun (1997), 135, 335, 368, 392
Kung Fu Hustle (2004), 98
Kung Fu movies, 340
Kureshi, Hanif, 90
Kuroi ame (Black Rain, 1989), 253
Kurosawa, Akiro, 95, 96, 252, 253,
279 – 83, 325, 343
Kurtlar vadisi—Irak (Valley of the
Wolves: Iraq, 2006), 341
Kushner, Lawrence, 308
Kyoto, Japan, 326, 344
614 | Index
LA Weekly, 381
LaBute, Neil, 329
Lacan, Jacques, 277
Ladd, Cheryl, 155
Ladies of the Bois de Bologne (1945).
See Les dames du Bois de Boulogne
Ladri di biciclette (The Bicycle Thief,
1948), 121, 178, 313
Lady for a Day (1933), 104
The Lady Killers (2004), 137
LaHaye, Tim, 170, 363
The Lair of the White Worm
(1988), 448
Lakota, 16; Lakota Civil War, 17. See
also American Indians
Laksmi, 311
Lalonde, Paul and Peter, 170, 319
LaMotta, Jake, 382, 392, 406
Lancelot du lac (Lancelot of the Lake,
1974), 84
Lancelot of the Lake (1974). See
Lancelot du lac
The Land Before Time (1988), 329
Land of the Dead (2005), 452
Land Without Bread (1933). See Las
hurdes
Lang, Fritz, 153, 173, 355, 384
Lang, Walter, 96
Lanka Dahan (Lanka Aflame,
1917), 75
Lanka, India, 76
Lanzmann, Claude, 180
Laos, 95
Lars and the Real Girls (2007), 364
Las Vegas, Nevada, 196
Lasky, Jesse, 147
The Last Man on Earth (1964), 448
The Last Metro (1981). See Le
Dernier Metro
Last Night of the Proms, 87
The Last Samurai (2003), 97
The Last Supper, 290
The Last Supper (1976). See La
Última Cena
The Last Supper (DaVinci), 101
The Last Temptation of Christ (1988),
66, 257, 285–89, 381, 382, 383, 392,
464
The Last Temptation of Christ
(Kazantzakis), 257
The Last Wave (1977), 44, 334
Låt den rätte komma in (Let the Right
One In, 2008), 448
Late Autumn (1960). See Akibiyori
The Late Great Planet Earth
(1979), 169
Late Spring (1949). See Banshun
Latin America, 289 – 95, 353. See also
South America; specific countries
Latter Days (2003), 328
Latter-day Saints, 328. See also
Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-
day Saints; Mormonism; Mormons
de Laurentis, Teresa, 4664
Lawrence, John Shelton, 461
LDS. See Church of Jesus Christ of
Latter-day Saints
Leap of Faith (1992), 122, 130,
132, 368
Leary, Tim, 196
Leaves from Satan’s Book (1921). See
Blade Af Satans Bog
Lebanon, 35 – 36
Lebowski Fest, 138
Led Zeppelin, 194
Ledoux, Patrick, 263
Lee, Ang, 70, 96, 97, 123, 124,
125, 462
Lee, Christopher, 444
Lee, Spike, 55

Left Behind: The Movie (2000), 170,
319, 363
Left Behind: World at War (2005), 170
Left Behind II: Tribulation Force
(2002), 170
The Left Hand of God (1955), 130
Left Luggage (1998), 267
The Legend of Bagger Vance (2000),
219, 406, 407
Legend of Bailiff Sansho (1954). See
Sanchô dayû
Legend of the Overfiend (1989). See
Chôjin densetsu Urotsukidôji
The Legend of the 7 Golden Vampires
(1974), 447
Legion of Decency, 108, 110, 115,
117, 119, 313. See also Catholic
Communication Campaign;
Catholic League; National
Catholic Office for Motion
Pictures (NCOMP); U.S. Catholic
Conference Office for Film and
Broadcasting
Lemora: A Child’s Tale of the
Supernatural (1973), 444
Leni (1994), 230
Leningrad University, 379
Léon (The Professional, 1994), 61,
64 – 65
Léon Morin, prête (The Forgiven
Sinner, 1961), 181
Leonard, Elmore, 418
Leone, Sergio, 295 – 300; “The Man
with No Name Trilogy,” 297
Lerner, Alan Jay, 331
Let the Right One In (2008). See Låt
den rätte komma in
Let’s Have a Brainwash (1963). See
Ro.Go.Pa.G.
Leth, Jørgen, 434
Index | 615
Leviathan, 233
Levin, Ira, 181
Leviticus, 164
Levring, Kristian, 157, 434
Levy, Dani, 181
Lewis, C. S. (Clive Staples), 66, 175,
362
Lewis, Sinclair, 130, 399
Liberation theology, 290
Liddell, Eric, 87 – 88, 89, 131, 362
Life Is to Whistle (1998). See La Vida es
Silvar
Life of an Amorous Woman
(Saikaku), 325
Life of Brian (1979), 66, 70, 86, 121,
258
The Life of Oharu (1952). See Saikaku
ichidai onna
Life of Paul (1949 – 1951), 317
Life is Beautiful (1997). See La vita é
bella
Lifeforce (1985), 448
Light, Allie, 468
Lights Camera . . . Faith! (Malone and
Pacatte), 428
Lilies of the Field (1963), 110, 130
Liliom (1934), 153
Lilith, 464 – 65
Lindsay, Vachel, 304
Lindsey, Hal, 169
Linkowski, Grzegorz, 230
The Lion King (1994), 28
The Lion, the Witch, and the
Wardrobe: A Story for Children
(Lewis), 175
Lion’s Gate Films, 12
Little Big Man (1970), 16, 368
Little Buddha (1993), 121, 135, 181,
335, 340
Little Caesar (1933), 109
616 | Index
Little Italy (Manhattan), 391, 392
Little Saints (1999). See Santitos
Little Women (1933; 1949), 370
The Living Christ (1951 – 1957), 317
The Living Dead (also known as The
Scotland Yard Mystery, 1933), 451
Livingstone, David, 130
Loach, Ken, 88, 89, 90
Lodz, Poland, 227; Lodz Film
School, 273
Loew, Judah (Rabbi), 332
Loewe, Frederick, 331
Lola rennt (Run Lola Run, 1998), 176
Lolita (1962), 276 – 77, 278
London, England, 40, 78, 350; North
London, 267
The Long Goodbye (1973), 13
Long Night’s Journey into Day
(1995), 5, 6
Longford, Raymond, 40, 42
Longinotto, Kim, 468
Look What Happened to Rosemary’s
Baby (1976), 155
Loos, France, 44
Lord, Fr. Daniel, 108, 117
Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of
the Ring (2001), 175, 305, 340, 372
Lord of the Rings: The Return of
the King (2003), 175, 176, 305,
340, 372
Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers
(2002), 175, 305, 340, 372
Lord’s Prayer, 293
Los Angeles, California, 13, 97, 117,
139, 286, 382, 429, 430, 431, 457;
Archdiocese of Los Angeles, 108
Los Angeles Jewish Journal, 351
Los Angeles Times, 148
Lost Horizon (1937), 105, 135
Lost in Translation (2003), 97
Loughlin, Gerard, 190
Louis, Adrian C., 18
Louisiana, 53
Lourdes, France, 111 – 12, 130
Love (1948). See L’amore
Love and Death (1975), 7, 10
Love at First Bite (1979), 444, 447
Love Eternal (1942). See L’Eternal
Retour
Love’s a Bitch (2000). See Amores
Perros
The Lower Depths (1957). See
Donzoko
The Lower Depths (Gorky), 251
Lower East Side (Manhattan),
267, 399
Lubin, Sigmund, 394
Lucas, George, 11, 339
Lucas, Wilfred, 40
Lugosi, Bela, 450
Luke, Gospel of, 84
Lumet, Sidney, 226, 264, 268
Luna Park (1992), 378
Lund, Sweden, 59
Luther (2003), 361
Luther, Martin, 361
Lutheran church, 317
Lyden, John C., 189, 190 – 92
Lyons, France, 82
Macbeth (Shakespeare), 282
MacPherson, Aimee Semple, 129
M*A*S*H (1970), 11, 12, 131
Mad, 194
Mad About You (television), 91
Madadayo (1993), 279
Das Mädchen Johanna (Joan the
Maid, 1935), 261
Madea Goes to Jail (2009), 133
Mad Max (1979), 172

Mad Max 2 (also known as The Road
Warrior, 1981), 172
Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome
(1985), 44, 172, 242
Madonna, 152. See also Mary, mother
of Jesus; Virgin Mary; Blessed Virgin
Madrid, University of, 99
Magic, 301 – 7
The Magical Lantern (1988), 57
The Magic Island (Seabrook), 450
Magic lantern, 1, 303, 424
Magic Money (1993). See Owo Idan
Magnolia (1999), 51, 55
Magnum, P.I. (television), 154
Mahabharata, 75, 77; Kauravas, 219;
Pandavas, 219. See also Hinduism
The Mahabharata (1989), 219, 340
Mahayana Buddhism, 95, 322
Mahmoody, Betty, 245
“Main to Arti Utaru,” 80
Major League (1989), 403, 405, 406
Malcolm X (1992), 368
Mali, 1, 3
La Malla educación (Bad Education,
2004), 179
Malle, Louis, 132, 180
Malone, Peter, 428
Mamet, David Alan, 307 – 8
Mamma Roma (1962), 178, 347
Man Bites Dog (1992). See C’est
arrive pres de chez vous
The Man Born to Be King
(Sayers), 255
A Man Called Horse (1970), 16, 368
A Man Called Peter (1955), 130, 362
Manderlay (2005), 436
A Man Escaped, or The Wind Bloweth
Where it Listeth (1956). See Un
condamné à mort s’est échappé ou
Le vent soufflé où il veut
Index | 617
A Man for All Seasons (1966), 130
The Man from Kangaroo (1920), 40
Manhattan (1979), 7
Manhattan, New York, 7, 171
Le Manior du diable (Manor of the
Devil, 1896), 152
Mankiewicz, Tom, 409
Manobo peoples (Mindanao), 242
Manor of the Devil (1896). See Le
Manior du diable
Manos: The Hands of Fate (1966), 153
The Man They Could Not Hang
(1939), 451
The Man Who Sued God (2001), 42
The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance
(1962), 459
The Man Who Wasn’t There (2001),
139, 140
Maori, 336
Mar Adentro (The Sea Inside,
2004), 179
Marc’ Aurelio, 184
Marduk, 465
Maritain, Jacques, 48
Mark IV Pictures, 318
Maronite Christians, 36
The Marriage of Heaven and Hell
(Blake), 307
Married to a Mormon (1922), 328
Marry Me! Marry Me! (1969). See
Mazel Tov au le Mariage
La Marseillaise, 44
Marsh, Clive, 187, 188, 425
Marshall, Peter, 130, 362
Martin, Joel, 189
Marvell, Andrew, 212
The Marvelous Visit (1974). See La
Merveilleuse Visite
Marx, Karl, 99, 349; Marxism, 32,
36, 349
618 | Index
Mary Magdalene, 149, 254 – 55, 285,
286, 310, 387, 409, 464
Mary, the mother of Jesus, 20, 107,
111 – 12, 149, 266, 348, 409, 410
Masala (films), 78
Masina, Giulietta, 184
al-Masir (Destiny, 1997), 2, 34
Mass Appeal (1984), 131
“Mass in C Minor” (Mozart), 83
Masson, Alain, 327
Master and Commander: The Far
Side of the World (2003), 372
Mastermedia, 286
Match Point (2005), 7, 9, 10
Matheson, Richard, 448, 452
Matthew, Gospel of, 23, 258, 265, 348
The Matrix (1999), 173, 175, 191,
308, 335, 338, 339, 358, 386, 425
The Matrix Reloaded (2003), 173,
191, 309, 310, 335, 338, 358, 386
The Matrix Revolutions (2003), 66,
70, 173, 191, 309, 311, 335, 338,
358, 386
The Matrix trilogy, 308 – 12, 359, 387
A Matter of Life and Death (also
known as Stairway to Heaven,
1946), 210 – 12, 213, 333
Maugham, W. Somerset, 215, 333, 399
May, John R., 187
Maya peoples (Yucatan), 242; Mayan
civilization, 241 – 42
“Maybe God is Trying to Tell You
Something,” 73
Mazel Tov au le Mariage (Marry Me!
Marry Me!, 1969), 181
Mazursky, Paul, 226
MCA Entertainment Group, 286, 287
McCabe & Mrs. Miller (1971), 12
McCaffrey, Edward, 313
McCarthy, Cormac, 137
McCarthy, Joseph (Senator), 112
McDonald, Frank, 263
Mean Streets (1973), 391
Mecca, Saudi Arabia, 247, 368;
Ka’bah, 247
Medea, 204, 205
Medea (1969), 205, 207
Medea (Euripides), 435
Medina, Saudi Arabia, 30
Mediterranean Sea, 350
Medusa, 26, 204
Medved, Michael, 131, 288
Medvedkin, Alexander, 376
Meet John Doe (1941), 105
Meet Me in St. Louis (1944), 372
Megiddo, Israel, 169
Megiddo: The Omega Code 2
(2001), 169
Mehta, Deepa, 467, 468
Melbourne, Australia, 39
Méliès, George, 152, 194, 260,
303, 384
Melville, Herman, 186, 372
Melville, Jean-Pierre, 181
Melvin and Howard (1980), 328
The Men Who Tread on the Tiger’s
Tail (1945). See Tora no o wo fumu
otokotachi
Mephistopheles, 152. See also
Devil
Mercedes (1993), 36
Merleau-Ponty, Maurice, 48
Merrick, John, 232 – 33
La Merveilleuse vie de Jeanne d’Arc
(Saint Joan the Maid, 1929), 261
La Merveilleuse Visite (The Marvelous
Visit, 1974), 180
Meschugge (Don’t, 1998), 181
Meshes of the Afternoon (1943), 333
The Message (1976), 27, 244

The Messenger: The Story of Joan of
Arc (1999), 61, 62, 180, 262
The Messers. Lumière at Cards
(1895). See Partie de cartes
Methodists, 4, 119, 364, 396, 398
Metoroporisu (Metropolis, 2001), 252
Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM), 12,
108, 203, 264
Metropolis (1927), 173, 339, 355,
384, 387
Mexica. See Aztecs
Mexicans, 297, 298, 458
Mexico, 100, 101, 155, 459; Mexican
Revolution, 298
Meyer, Stephanie, 448
MGM. See Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer
Michelangelo, 409
Middle Ages, 93, 104
Middle East, 32, 35, 264, 319; Middle
Eastern culture, 246; Middle
Eastern films, 428
Middlebury College, 429
Midnight Express (1978), 247
Midnight in the Garden of Good and
Evil (1997), 368
Midrash, 150
Mignola, Mike, 412
Milbank, Jeremiah, 149
Miles, Margaret, 188
Milky Way, 202
The Milky Way (1969). See La Voie
lactée
Miller, Arthur, 305
Miller, George, 44
Miller’s Crossing (1990), 137, 140
Minelli, Vincente, 331
Minneapolis, Minnesota, 137
Minority Report (2002), 163, 165,
166, 363, 385
Minotaur, 26, 278
Index | 619
The Minotaur (1960). See Teseo contro
il minotauro
The Miracle (1948). See Il Miracolo
The Miracle controversy, 312 – 15
The Miracle Man (1919), 398
Miracle in Milan (1951). See Mira-
colo a Milano
The Miracle of the Bells (1948), 130
Miracle of Our Lady of Fatima
(1952), 112
Miracle on 34th Street (1947), 372
The Miracle Woman (1931), 129
The Miracle Worker (1960). See
Chudotvornaya
Il Miracolo (The Miracle, 1948), 120,
178, 313
Miracolo a Milano (Miracle in Milan,
1951), 178
Miramax, 11, 13, 24
Miranda Prorsus (Pius XII), 112
Misery (1990), 55
The Mission (1986), 88, 115, 131
Mission: Impossible 2 (2000), 430
Missionaries, 1, 15, 41, 115, 132, 149,
315, 361
Missionary films, 315 – 20
Mississippi, 318
Mississippi Mermaid. (1969). See La
Sirene du Missisipi
Mississippi River, 458
Miyazaki, Hayao, 250, 320 – 24
Mizoguchi, Kenji, 250, 325 – 27, 343,
344, 345
Moby Dick (Melville), 186, 372
Modernity, 32, 90, 218, 244, 384,
385, 426
Molnár, Ferenc, 153
Monanieba (Repentance, 1984), 378
Monday’s Girls (1993), 468
Money (1983). See L’Argent
620 | Index
Monk, Maria, 114
Mononoke Hime (Princess Mononoke,
1997), 250, 320, 321, 322, 323, 324
Monpere, Carol, 468
Monsieur Vincent (1947), 180
The Monsignor (1982), 131
Monsoon Wedding (2001), 216, 368
Montagnard, 144
Montreal, Canada, 266
Monty Python and the Holy Grail
(1975), 193, 372
Monty Python’s Flying Circus, 86,
193 – 94, 258
Monty Python’s Flying Circus
(TV), 194
Moody Church (Chicago), 316
Moonlight (1989). See Chandni
Morality in Media, 286
Mormonism, 327 – 30, 459;
anti-Mormon films, 328; Mormon
church, 317; Mormon migration
of 1846 – 1847, 459. See also
Church of Jesus Christ of
Latter-day Saints (LDS)
A Mormon Maid (1917), 328
Mormons, 327, 448. See also Church
of Jesus Christ of Latter-day
Saints (LDS)
Mormon Tabernacle Choir, 329
Morocco/Moroccan, 3, 34, 243, 285
Moses, 26, 27, 30, 65, 147, 148, 149,
151, 223, 310, 339, 409
Mosfilm, 421, 422
A Moslem (1995). See Musulmanin
The Mother and the Law (1919), 107
Motion Picture Association of
America (MPAA), 120; MPAA
ratings, 154. See also Motion
Picture Producers and Distributors
of America
Motion Picture Herald, 117
Motion Picture Producers and
Distributors of America (MPPDA),
108, 116, 120, 399. See also
Motion Picture Association of
America
Mouchette (1967), 83
Mounier, Emmanuel, 48
Mount Sinai, Egypt, 30, 149
Mozart, Amadeus, 83
MPPA. See Motion Picture Associa-
tion of America
MPPDA. See Motion Picture Produ-
cers and Distributors of
America
Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936), 105,
106
Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1938),
105, 106
MTV. See Music Television
MTV-India, 80
al-Muhajir (The Emigrant, 1994),
2, 33
Muhammad (prophet), 27, 30, 32
Muhammad: The Last Prophet (2004),
26, 27, 29, 30
Mulan (1998), 28, 29, 96
Mulan 2 (2004), 96 – 97
Multiculturalism, 90, 266
Mumbai. See Bombay
The Mummy (1999), 235
Mundelein, George (Cardinal), 117,
118
Munk, Andrzej, 273
Munk, Kaj, 161, 177
Murata, Minoru, 251
Murnau, F. W. (Friedrich Wilhelm),
152, 160, 232, 444
Muscular Christianity, 397
The Music Man (1962), 372

Music Television (MTV), 330
Musil, Robert, 181
Muslims, 30, 37, 38, 43, 67, 90, 244,
245, 247, 248; Islamists, 34, 35.
See also Islam
Mussolini, Benito, 183
Musulmanin (A Moslem, 1995), 379
Mutual Film Corporation v. the
Industrial Commission of Ohio,
116, 312 – 13, 314
My Big, Fat Greek Wedding (2002),
368
My Fair Lady (1964), 370
My Last Sigh (Buñuel), 102
My Neighbor Totoro (1988). See
Tonari no Totoro
My Son the Fanatic (1997), 90, 243
The Mysteries (Dimpho Di Kopane), 5
Mystic Masseur (2001), 218
Mysticism, 331 – 37
Myth, 337 – 42
Nabokov, Vladimir, 276 – 77
Nacho Libre (2006), 132
Nadja (1994), 444
Nagasaki, Japan, 253, 389
Der Name der Rose (The Name of the
Rose, 1986), 180
The Name of the Rose (1986). See Der
Name der Rose
Namisha (1999), 4
Naples, Italy, 350
Napoleon Dynamite (2004), 330
Naqoyqatsi (2002), 335
Narcissus, 278
Nashville (1975), 12
Nasser, Gamal, 33
Nation of Islam, 406
National Association of
Evangelicals, 288
Index | 621
National Board of Censorship, 117
National Board of Review, 117
National Catholic Office for Motion
Pictures (NCOMP), 112, 121. See
also Catholic Communication
Campaign; Catholic League;
Legion of Decency; United States
Conference of Catholic Bishops:
Office for Film and Broadcasting
National Catholic Welfare Confere-
nce, 117
National Lampoon’s Christmas Vaca-
tion (1989), 223
Nationalism, 32, 34, 36, 326, 363, 405
Native Americans, 41, 93, 115, 328,
368, 371, 462, 458, 459; religious
traditions, 458. See also American
Indians; American Indian religions
Native peoples, 14, 16. See also
Aboriginal peoples; American
Indians; Native Americans
The Nativity (1986), 222
The Nativity Story (2006), 222
Nattvardsgästerna (Winter Light,
1962), 132, 178
The Natural (1984), 403, 406 – 7
Natural Born Killers (1994), 415
Nausea (Sartre), 334
Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind
(1984). See Kaze no tani no
Naushika
Navajo. See Diné
Nazareth, Israel, 37, 38, 398
Nazarín (1959), 100, 132, 179
Nazis, 8, 92, 93, 94, 181, 226, 227, 228,
230, 231, 261
Nazism, 130; Neo-Nazism, 227
NCOMP. See National Catholic Office
for Motion Pictures
Nebuchadnezzar, 309
622 | Index
Nelson, “Baby Face,” 139
Neo-Thomism, 48
The Neon Bible (1995), 363
Nero, 149, 150, 151
The Net (1995), 359
Never Say Never Again (1983), 245
The New Age (1994), 430, 431, 432
New Age movement, 25, 45, 336,
431 – 32; neo-New Age, 44
New Britain, Connecticut, 395
New England, 155
New Era Films, 316
New Hope Mission, 398
New Jersey, 201, 400, 401
Newman, Widgey R., 260
New Orleans, Louisiana, 287
New religious movements, 153, 187
New South Wales, Australia, 41
New Testament, 66, 69, 70, 149, 258,
265, 350, 402; See also Bible;
specific books, figures, doctrines,
events, and locations
New World, 450
New Year’s Eve, 332; New Year’s
Day, 372
New York, 64, 97, 147, 268, 276,
287, 313, 349, 382, 389, 391, 394,
404, 429, 457; Archdiocese of New
York, 391
New York, governmental bodies:
Board of Censorship, 117; Board
of Regents, 314; Court of Appeals,
314; State Education Department,
314; Supreme Court, 313, 314
The New York Hat (1912), 128, 396
New York, New York (1977), 392
New York Times, 441
New York University, 391
New York Yankees, 176
New Zealand, 336
Nichiren, 326
Nicholas I, Tsar, 375
Nicholas II, Tsar, 374
Nielsen, Karl. See Dreyer, Carl
Theodor
Nietzsche, Friedrich, 53
Niger, 3
Nigeria, 4, 5; Nollywood, 4
Night of the Hunter (1955), 129
Night of the Iguana (1964), 130 – 31
Night of the Living Dead (1968), 232,
235, 452
The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993),
223
The Nights of Cabiria (1957). See La
notti di Cabiria
Nihilism, 205
1984 (1956), 165
Nineteen Eighty-Four (1984), 163,
165, 166
Nineteen Eighty-Four (Orwell), 385
The Ninth Gate (1999), 182
Nirgendwo in Afrika (Nowhere in
Africa, 2001), 267
Noah, 26, 56
No Country for Old Men (2007), 137,
139, 140
No End (1985). See Bez Końca
Noh theater, 282
Noonan, Chris, 44
North Africa, 2, 91; North African
cinema, 39
North America, 379, 428, 458; North
American cinema, 176
Northern Ireland, 86. See also Britain;
England; United Kingdom
Notre Dame Cathedral (Paris), 30
Nordics, 228
Northern Europe, 161
Norway, 159; Norwegian film, 448

Nosferatu (1922), 232
Nosferatu, eine Symphonie des
Grauens (Nosferatu the Vampire,
1922), 444
Nosferatu: Phantom der Nacht
(Nosferatu the Vampire, 1979),
444
Nosferatu the Vampire (1922). See
Nosferatu, eine Symphonie des
Grauens
Nosferatu the Vampire (1979). See
Nosferatu: Phantom der Nacht
Nostalghia (Nostalgia, 1982), 378,
421, 422
Nostalgia (1982). See Nostalghia
La notti di Cabiria (The Nights of
Cabiria, 1957), 184, 185, 347
Not Without My Daughter (1991), 245
Nowhere in Africa (2001). See
Nirgendwo in Afrika
La Nuit Américaine (Day for Night,
1973), 440
The Nun (1966). See La Religieuse
The Nun’s Story (1959), 110
Nuovo cinema Paradiso (Cinema
Paradiso, 1988), 132
Nuri, Fazlollah (Sheykh), 424
Nurse Betty (2000), 329
The Nutty Professor (1996), 340
Nyquist, Sven, 316
Oberammergau, Germany, 394
O Brother, Where Art Thou? (2000),
137, 139, 176, 203, 362, 368
October (1928). See Oktyabr
Odyssey (Homer), 139, 143, 203, 340
Odysseus, 26, 176
The Odyssey (1997), 203
Oedipus at Colonus (Sophocles), 203
Oedipus the King (Sophocles), 203
Index | 623
Offret (The Sacrifice, 1986), 172, 378,
422, 423
The Ogre (1996). See Der Unhold
Oh, God! (1977), 197, 201
Oh, God! Book II (1980), 198, 201
Ohio, 312 – 13
“O Holy Night,” 394
Oklahoma, 17
Oklahoma City, Oklahoma, 287
Oktyabr (October, 1928), 376
“The Old Country” (E. Coen), 137
“Old Landmark,” 72
Old Testament, 66, 67, 68 – 69, 149,
163 – 64. See also Bible; Hebrew
Bible; Hebrew Scriptures; Torah;
specific figures, doctrines, events,
and locations
Olson, Moroni, 328
Olympus, 27
The Omega Code (1999), 169, 319
The Omen (1976), 114, 134, 153, 171,
236, 333
Omen III: The Final Conflict (1981),
171 – 72
Omen IV: The Awakening (1991), 134,
172
Once Upon a Time in America
(1984), 299
Once Upon a Time in China II (1992).
See Wong Fei Hung II: Naam yi
dong ji keung
Once Upon a Time in the West (1968).
See C’era una volt ail West
On Eagles’ Wings (Southon), 150
One Foot in Heaven (1941), 130
One Man’s Way (1964), 130
Ontario, Canada, 319
On the Beach (1959), 172, 364
On the Waterfront (1954), 129
Onwurah, Ngozi, 468
624 | Index
OPEC. See Organization of Petroleum
Exporting Countries
The Order (2003), 236, 336
Ordet (The Word, 1955), 132, 161, 177
Organization of Petroleum Exporting
Countries (OPEC), 244
Orgazmo (1997), 328
La orgía de los muertos (Terror of the
Living Dead, also known as The
Hanging Woman, 1973), 155
Orientalism, 214 – 15
Orizuru Osen (Downfall of Osen, 1935),
326
Orleans, France, 83
Ormond, Ron, 318
Orphée (Orpheus, 1950), 205, 206,
331
Orpheus, 205 – 6
Orpheus (1950). See Orphée
Orthodox Church, 374, 375, 376, 378,
379
Ortiz, Gaye, 187, 188
Orwell, George, 165, 385
Oscar, 91, 97, 103, 141, 178, 391, 440.
See also Academy Award
Oscar and Lucinda (1997), 41
Oshii, Mamoru, 252
Oslo, Norway, 39
Ososhiki (The Funeral, 1984), 251
Ostrov (The Island, 2006), 379
Ostwalt, Conrad, 189
Otets Sergiy (Father Sergius,
1917), 375
The Others (2001), 179
Otomo, Katsuhiro, 253
Otto, Rudolf, 233
Ouanga (1936), 451
Our Lady of the Assassins (2000). See
La Virgen de los Sicarios
Ousmane, Sembene, 3
The Outlaw (1943), 119
Outreach Films, 317
Outsiders (1977). See Ceddo
The Outsiders (1983), 141
Owo Idan (Magic Money, 1993), 4
The Ox-Bow Incident (1943), 362, 458
Ozark Mountains, 263
Ozu, Yasujirō, 249, 252, 325, 343 – 45,
381
Pacatte, Rose, 428
Pacific Ocean, 241, 459; Pacific
islands, 241
Paganism, 45; Neopaganism, 302,
305, 406; symbolism, 412, 423
Pale Rider (1985), 363, 461
Palestine, 38, 160; Palestinian cinema,
37; Palestinian fanatics, 246;
Palestinian filmmaking, 37 – 39;
Palestinian nationalism, 37
Palestine Liberation Organization
(PLO), 37
Palestinians, 38, 247
Pan-African Film and TV Festival of
Ouagadougou (FESPAC), 2
Pandora and the Flying Dutchman
(1951), 331
Paradise Lost (John Milton), 21
Paradise Now (2005). See Al-Djanna
al’an
Paramount Pictures, 147, 264,
285, 429
Paramount Television, 155
Paris (character in Troy), 206
Paris, France, 30, 47, 48, 61, 82, 83,
99, 101, 160, 206, 239, 263, 287,
349, 423, 437, 438
Paris Olympics (1924), 87, 131, 362,
405
Paris Theater (Manhattan), 313 – 14
 Index | 625

Parris Island, South Carolina, 278 Pegasus, 26

Parsi theater, 81 Peggy Sue Got Married (1986), 141
Parsons, Fr. Wilfred, 117 Pelle erobreren (Pelle the Conqueror,
Partie de campagne (A Day in the 1987), 177
Country, 1936), 313 Pelle the Conqueror (1987). See Pelle
Partie de cartes (The Messers. erobreren
Lumière at Cards, 1895), 374 Penelope, 139
Pascal, Blaise, 50 Penn, Arthur, 16
Pasolini, Pier Paolo, 178, 184, 203, Penn, Leo, 155
205, 347 – 50 Pentecostalism, 295; Pentecostal
Pass the Ammo (1988), 131 churches, 4
La Passion de Jeanne d’Arc (The People for the American Way, 402
Passion of Joan of Arc, 1928), 129, Per qualche dollar in più (For a Few
132, 160 – 61, 177, 260, 332 Dollars More, 1965), 297
The Passion, 149, 255 Per un pugno di dollari (A Fistful of
The Passion of Joan of Arc (1928). Dollars, 1964), 297
See La Passion de Jeanne d’Arc A Perfect Couple (1979), 11
The Passion of the Christ (2004), 66, The Perfect Human (1967). See Det
68, 121, 222, 223, 237, 258 – 59, perfekte menneske
319, 340, 350 – 53, 379, 464 Det perfekte menneske (The Perfect
The Passion of the Christ controversy, Human, 1967), 434
350 – 54 Perry, Tyler, 133
The Passion Play (1903). See La Vie Perseus, 26, 204
et La Passion du Christ Peryy Dyen (The First Day, unfinished),
Passover, 222, 372 421
Pastor Jones (2005), 133 Pesci, Joe, 392
Patmos, Island of, 168 Peter, 40, 201, 394
The Patriot (2000), 363, 372 Peter Ibbetson (1935), 331
Paul, 40, 70, 185, 285, 349 – 50, 355; Peter Pan (1953), 370
Pauline texts, 427 Peter Pan (2003), 370
The Pawnbroker (1964), 121, 226, 229 Petrie, Graham, 421
Payne Fund Studies, 118 Phalke, Dhundiraj Govind, 75, 76
PBS. See Public Broadcasting Service The Phantom Wagon (1939). See La
PCA. See Production Code Charrette fantôme
Administration Pharisees, 265
The Peacemaker (1997), 243 Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, 118, 394
Peale, Norman Vincent, 130 Philippines, 143
La Peau douce (The Soft Skin, 1964), Philo, 150
440 Phoolan Devi (Bandit Queen,
Peck, Raoul, 455 1994), 217
626 | Index
Phörpa (The Cup, 1999), 135, 368
Π (Pi, 1998), 55, 269, 335
Pialat, Maurice, 180
The Pianist (2002), 181, 267
Pichel, Irving, 317
Pickford, Mary, 15, 397, 398
Pickpocket (1959), 83
Picnic at Hanging Rock (1975), 45
Piesiwicz, Krzysztof, 213 – 14, 274,
275
Pilate, Pontius, 69
The Pilgrim (1923), 130, 398
Pilgrim’s Progress (1950), 316
The Pilgrim’s Progress (Bunyan), 211
Pilgrimage, 38, 100, 101, 147, 178,
179, 190, 213, 217, 334, 349, 367,
368, 371; Pilgrims, 100, 218, 367,
374
Pillar of Fire (Ingraham), 150
Pincher Martin (Golding), 335
Pine Ridge Reservation, 17, 18
Pink Floyd, 194
The Pink Panther (1963), 340
Pinkle, Estus, 318
Pinsky, Mark I., 188
Pintoff, Ernest, 92
Pius XI, Pope, 108
Pius XII, Pope, 110, 112
The Plague (Camus), 59
The Plague of the Zombies (1966), 452
Plain of Meggido. See Armageddon
Plan 9 From Outer Space (1959), 452
Planet of the Apes (1968), 172
Plaszow, Poland, 230
Platonic philosophy, 309
Plattsburg, New York, 263
The Player (1992), 11, 13, 430
Pleasance, Donald, 156
PLO. See Palestine Liberation
Organization
Plummer, Christopher, 154
Pluralism, 68, 405
Pocahontas (1995), 28
Poe, Edgar Allen, 396
Poland, 180, 226, 271 – 72, 274
Poland, Larry, 286
Polanski, Roman, 181
Poles, 272, 273
Politiken, 159
Pollack, Sydney, 381, 462
Poltergeist (1982), 156
Poltergeist II (1986), 131
The Pope Must Die (1991), 131
Popeye (1980), 13
Popeye Meets Ali Baba and His Forth
Thieves (1937), 245
Il popolo, 348
Porno-Teo-Kolossal (unfinished), 349
Porter, Jennifer E., 190
Portolés, Luis Buñuel. See Buñuel,
Luis
Portugal, 112
The Poseidon Adventure (1972), 364
Posse (1993), 462
Posthumanism, 354 – 61
The Postman (1997), 172
Postmodernism, 360; postmodern
America, 196; postmodern
concerns, 354, 360; postmodern
films, 357; postmodern period, 173;
postmodern science fiction, 356;
postmodern viewers, 426
Potok, Chaim, 404
Potomok Chingis-Khana (Storm Over
Asia, 1928), 376
Powaqqatsi (1988), 335
Powell, Michael, 213
The Power and the Glory (Greene),
129
Powwow Highway (1989), 17, 371

In Praise of Mother Santoshi (1975).
See Jai Santoshi Maa
Pravda, 375
Prazdnik svyatogo Yorgena (Holiday
of St. Jorgen, 1930), 376
The Preacher’s Wife (1996), 74, 130,
363
Predator (1987), 388
Prejean, Sr. Helen, 135
Preminger, Otto, 111, 262
Presbyterian Church, 396;
Presbyterian minister, 132, 364.
See also Christianity; Clergy;
Protestantism
Presbyterian Church in America, 288
Presbyterians, 4
Presley, Elvis, 111, 338
Pressburger, Emeric, 213
Pressfield, Steven, 407
Preston, Idaho, 330
Prêt-à-Porter (1994), 13
A Price Above Rubies (1998), 269
Pride and Prejudice (Austen), 216
Primitivism, 44, 245
Prince of Egypt (Wilson), 150
The Prince of Egypt (1998), 26, 27, 30
The Princess Diaries (2001), 370
Princess Mononoke (1997). See
Mononoke Hime
Procès de Jeanne d’Arc (Trial of Joan
of Arc, 1962), 83, 179, 262
The Prodigal Planet (1983), 169
The Producers (1968), 91, 93, 94
The Producers (stage), 91
The Producers (recording), 91
Production Code, 129, 130, 399. See
also Hollywood Production Code
Production Code Administration
(PCA), 108, 112, 116, 120. See also
Hays Office
Index | 627
Progressive Era, 128, 394
Prohibition, 299, 395
Prometheus, 340
Prospero’s Books (1991), 305
Protazanov, Yakov, 375
Protestantism, 361 – 65
Protestants, 170, 236, 237, 351, 352,
362 – 64, 394, 399, 458. See also
Christians; specific denominations
Protocol (1984), 245
Proulx, Annie, 462
Proverbs, Book of, 269
Pryor, Richard, 71
Przypadek (Blind Chance, 1987), 274
Psalms, Book of, 25
Psycho (1960), 153
Public Affairs (1934). See Les affairs
publiques
Public Broadcasting Service (PBS),
244
Public Enemy (1931), 109, 117
Pudovkin, Vsevolod Illarionovich, 376
A Pueblo Legend (1912), 15
Pulitzer Prize, 307
Pulp Fiction (1994), 51, 415 – 18
Purim, 265
Puritan, 459
Pushkin, Alexander, 376
Pygmalion (Shaw), 370
The Pyx (1973), 154
al-Qahira munawwara bi ahliha
(Cairo as Told by Youssef Chahine,
1991), 2, 33
Al qods fee yom akhar (Rana’s
Wedding, 2002), 368
Quaker, 364, 460
The Quarrel (1991), 225, 226, 266
Les quatre cents coups (The 400
Blows, 1959), 439
628 | Index
Quatre nuits d’un reveur (Four Nights
of a Dreamer, 1971), 84
Quebec, Canada, 41
Queens Work, 117
A Question of Silence (1982). See De
Stilte rond Christine M.
The Quick and the Dead (1995), 462
The Quiet Man (1952), 129, 362, 371
Quigley, Martin, 108, 117
Quigley Exhibitor’s Poll, 397
Quinceañera (2006), 368
Quo Vadis (1951), 66 – 67
Qur’an, 30, 219, 246, 248
Racconti di Canterbury (The
Canterbury Tales, 1972), 179
Race with the Devil (1975), 154
Racism, 235
Radcliffe, Ann, 232
Radio Days (1987), 268
Radio-television-cinema, 48
Raging Bull (1980), 382, 383, 392,
404, 406
Rain (1932), 362
“Rain” (Maugham), 399
The Rain People (1969), 141
Raining Stones (1993), 88
Raise the Red Lantern (1991). See Da
hong deng long gao gao gua
Raising Arizona (1987), 136, 140
Raja Harischandra (1913), 75
Rama, 75, 76, 77
Ramadan, 32
Ramayana, 75, 76, 77. See also
Bollywood; Hinduism; India
Rambova, Natasha, 328
Ramchandra, 311
Rameses II, 26, 148, 150, 151
Ramsaye, Terry, 394
Ran (1985), 95, 96, 252, 282, 283
Raphael, Frederic, 276
Rapture, 168, 170
The Rapture (1941), 318
The Rapture (1991), 170–71, 430, 431,
432
Rashômon (1950), 95, 279 – 80, 282,
342
Rasputin, Grigori, 412
Ravana, 76
Ray, Nicholas, 69, 255
Ray, Satyajit, 218
Raye Makhfi (Secret Ballot,
2001), 243
The Razor’s Edge (1946), 215, 333
The Razor’s Edge (1984), 333
Read, Donna, 466
Reagan, Ronald, 319; Reagan
presidency, 286
Realism, 194, 213; Cinematic realism,
49; Neorealism, 132, 174, 184, 325,
347; Social realist cinema, 88
Rebel without a Cause (1955), 255
Red Bank, New Jersey, 201, 400
Red Sea, 27, 150
Red Sorghum (1987). See Hong gao
liang
Redford, Robert, 392
Reel Spirituality (Johnston), 187, 190,
427
Reformation, 236, 302
Regnault, Félix-Louis, 239
Reid, Frances, 5
Reid, Wallace, 399
Reilly, Joseph, 286
Reiner, Carl, 92
Reinhartz, Adele, 427
La Religieuse (The Nun, 1966), 132
Religion in Film (May), 187
Religious Motion Picture
Foundation, 316

The Religious Possibilities of the
Motion Picture (Jump), 395
Renaissance, 24, 302
Renoir, Jean, 438, 439
Repentance (1984). See Monanieba
Reservoir Dogs (1992), 415
The Restless Ones (1965), 318
Resurrection, 175, 176, 453
Resurrection (1980), 334
The Return of the Exorcist (1975). See
Un urlo nelle tenebre
Return of the Player (Tolkin), 430
Revelation (1999), 170
Revelation (also known as The
Apocalypse), Book of, 20, 168, 169,
236, 386
Reverend James Cleveland Choir, 72
Revolt of the Zombies (1936), 451
Rheims Cathedral (France), 259,
261
Rice, John, 424
Rice, Tim, 255
Rich, Richard, 329
Richie, Donald, 249
“La ricotta,” 347 – 48
Riefenstahl, Leni, 332
Rintaro, 252
Ritchie, Michael, 96
Ride of the Valkyres (Wagner), 144
Riget (The Kingdom, 1994), 178
Riget II (The Kingdom II, 1997), 178
The Right to be Happy (1916), 220
Rimini, Italy, 183
Riti, magie nere e segrete orge nel
trecento (Black Magic Rites and
the Secret Orgies of the Fourteenth
Century, 1973), 155 – 56
Ritual, 367 – 73
The River Girl (1955). See La donna
del fiume
Index | 629
A River Runs through It (1992),
132, 364
Ro.Go.Pa.G. (Let’s Have a Brain-
wash, 1963), 347
The Road (1954). See La strada
The Road to El Dorado (2000), 27,
28, 29, 30
The Road Home (1999). See Wo de fu
qin mu qin
The Robe (1953), 67, 255, 372
Robin Hood: Men in Tights (1993),
92, 93
Robinson Crusoe (Defoe), 70
RoboCop (1987), 359
The Rocky Horror Picture Show
(1975), 138, 190, 338, 373
Le Roi des Aulnes (Tournier),
181
Rojo no Reikon (Souls on the Road,
1921), 251
Roma (1972), 185, 186
Roma, citta aperta (Rome, Open City,
1945), 132, 184
Roman Catholic Church, 88, 89, 114,
130, 132, 177, 260, 261, 352, 399
Roman Catholicism, 183, 236, 289,
291, 292, 349, 447, 450. See also
Catholicism
Roman Catholics, 351. See also
Catholics
Roman Circus, 149 – 50
Roman Empire, 150, 255, 258;
debauchery of, 119; Imperial
Rome, 45; pre-Christian, 149;
Roman authorities, 168; Roman
epics, 66
Romanticism, 212
Rome, Italy, 67, 130, 144, 149,
184, 186, 255, 347, 349; Ostia
(Rome), 350
630 | Index
Rome, Open City (1945). See Roma,
citta aperta
Romeo and Juliet, 152
Romero (1989), 115, 135
Romero, George A., 452, 453, 454
Romero, Oscar (Bishop), 115
Rooster Cogburn (1975), 364
Rosemary’s Baby (1968), 134, 153,
171, 181, 236, 333, 334
Rosh Hashanah, 266
Ross, Dick, 317
Rosselini, Roberto, 132, 178, 184, 261,
347
Roth, Philip, 307
Rouen, France, 259
Rousseau, Jean-Jacques, 99
Rowling, J. K. (Joanne), 305
Rudolph, Alan, 12
Rudy (1993), 135
Rules of Engagement (2000), 247
Rum Punch (Leonard), 418
Rumble Fish (1983), 141
Run Lola Run (1998). See Lola rennt
Run Silent, Run Deep (1958), 372
Ibn Rushd (Averroes), 34
Russia, 112, 228, 373 – 80; Medieval
Russia, 420; postrevolutionary
Russia, 2; revolutions of 1917, 375
Russian Orthodoxy, 379 – 80
Russian Orthodox, 419
Russians, 227
Rwanda, 5
Ryoanji temple (Kyoto), 344
Saam gaang yi (Three Extremes,
2004), 127
Saam gang (Three Extremes II, 2002),
127
Sabrina (1954; 1995), 370
Sachs, Lynne, 465
Sacred space, 341, 407, 457, 462
The Sacrifice (1986). See Offred
Sadat, Anwar, 33
Sadie Thompson (1928), 399
Safar e Ghandehar (Kandahar, 2001),
243
Sahara (2005), 246
Saikaku ichidai onna (The Life of
Oharu, 1952), 325
Saikaku, Ihara, 325
Saint-Exupery, Antoine de, 82
Saint Joan (1927), 260
Saint Joan (1957), 111, 262
Saint Joan the Maid (1929). See La
Merveilleuse vie de Jeanne d’Arc
Saints and Soldiers (2003), 364
‘Salem’s Lot (2004), 444, 448
Salò, o le centoventi giornate di
Sodoma (Salò—The 120 Days of
Sodom, 1975), 349
Salò—The 120 Days of Sodom (1975).
See Salò, o le centoventi giornate di
Sodoma
Salome, 464
Salt Lake City, Utah, 328
Salvation Army, 39 – 40, 41, 42, 364
Salvation Army Lass (1909), 395
Samidare zoshi (The Chronicle of May
Rain, 1924), 326
Sampedro, Ramon, 179
Samson and Delilah (1949), 66
Samurai, 95, 96, 97, 252, 279, 281,
325
Samurai films, 280, 281, 282, 418
San Francisco (1936), 129
San Francisco, California, 196, 315
San Paolo (unfinished film), 349 – 50
Sanchô dayû (Legend of Bailiff Sansho,
1954), 326
Sanhedrin, 69, 257

Sanjuro (1962). See Tsubaki Sanjûrô
Santa Ana, California, 287
Santa Claus, 38, 223, 224
The Santa Clause (1994), 223
The Santa Clause 2 (2002), 223
The Santa Clause 3: The Escape
Clause (2006), 223
Santería, 292
Santiago de Compostela, Spain, 101
Santitos (Little Saints, 1999), 293
Santley, Joseph, 263
Santoshi Maa, 78, 79
Saraf, Irving, 468
Sartre, Jean-Paul, 48, 56, 334
Såsom I en spegel (Through a Glass
Darkly, 1961), 178
Satan, 101, 133, 142, 152, 153 – 54,
155, 156, 160, 168, 169, 171, 173,
233, 235 – 37, 255, 285, 307, 368,
411; Satanism, 153 – 56
Satan’s Cheerleaders (1977), 155
Satan’s School for Girls (1973), 155
Satan’s Slave (1976), 155
Satanas (1920), 160
Saturday’s Warrior (stage), 329
Satyavan Savitri (1914), 75
Satyricon (1969), 186
Saudi Arabia, 32, 244
Savannah, Georgia, 287
Saved! (2004), 362
Sayers, Dorothy, 255
Say One for Me (1959), 130
Scandinavian countries, 177;
Scandinavian film, 332. See also
specific countries
Scandinavian Lutheranism, 162
The Scarlet Letter (1926), 399
The Scarlet Letter (1995), 363
Sceaux, France, 82
Schastye (Happiness, 1934), 376
Index | 631
Schepisi, Fred, 41
Schindler’s List (1993), 230, 266,
308, 361
Schlöndorff, Volker, 181
Schneider, Kirk, 234
School of the Holy Beast (1974). See
Seijû gakuen
School Ties (1992), 404, 405
Schrader, Paul, 81, 285, 381 – 83; The
Transcendental Style in Film: Ozu,
Bresson, and Dreyer, 381
Schwartz, Stephen, 255
Science fiction, 133, 167, 173, 189,
331, 336, 356, 383 – 90, 444
Scorsese, Martin, 11, 66, 137, 254,
257, 285, 286, 288, 335, 381, 382,
390 – 93
Scotland, 405; Scottish Christians, 40;
Scottish missionary, 131
The Scotland Yard Mystery (1933).
See The Living Dead
Scott, Ridley, 67, 69
The Scottish Covenanters (1909), 40
Scream, Blacula, Scream (1973),
453
Screening the Sacred: Religion, Myth,
and Ideology in Popular American
Film (Martin and Ostwalt), 189
Scripture on the Silver Screen
(Reinhartz), 427
Scriptures Visualized Institute (SVI),
316, 317
Sculpting in Time (Tarkovsky), 420
The Sea Inside (2004). See Mar
Adentro
Seabrook, William, 450
Seagal, Stephen, 97
The Searchers (1956), 203, 363, 462
Second Vatican Council, 111, 112,
120, 348, 352. See also Vatican II
632 | Index
Second World War, 2, 106, 151, 251,
342, 347. See also World War II
Secret Ballot (2001). See Raye
Makhfi
The Secret of NIMH (1982), 329
Sectarianism, 36, 302
Secularism, 36, 39, 205, 468
Secularization, 121, 122, 251, 253,
342, 389, 405
Seeing and Believing: Religion and
Values in the Movies (Miles), 188
Seijû gakuen (School of the Holy
Beast, 1974), 253
Seine River, 260
Selleck, Tom, 154
Sen to Chihiro no Kamikakushi
(Spirited Away, 2000), 250, 320,
322, 323, 324
Senkiföldje (Why Wasn’t He There?
1993), 225
Sennett, Mack, 103
Serenades (2001), 43
Sergeant York (1941), 129, 362
The Sermons of Sister Jane: Believing
the Unbelievable (2007), 468
The Serpent and the Rainbow (1988),
235, 454
Seti I, 26
Seton, Marie, 376
Setu Bandhan (1932), 75
Seuss, Dr. See Geisel, Theodor Seuss
Se7en (1995), 55
Seven Alone (1974), 329
Seven Samurai (1954). See Shichinin
no samurai
1776 (1972), 372
The Seventh Seal (1957). See Det
Sjunde Inseglet
The Seventh Sign (1988), 134
Seven Women (1966), 131
Seven Years in Tibet (1997), 135, 181,
342
Shadow of the Boomerang (1960), 40,
318
Shadowlands (1993), 362
Shadows (1922), 135, 398
Shadows and Fog (1992), 8
Shaka (Buddha, 1961), 340
Shakespeare, William, 96, 124, 212,
252, 282, 305, 371
Shamanism, 29, 223, 293, 321, 323;
shaman, 28, 223, 294, 368, 406, 411
Shane (1953), 339, 461
Shaolin Monastery (China), 411
Shaolin Temple (1976), 340
The Shape of Things to Come
(Wells), 385
Sharma, Vijay, 78
Shaw, George Bernard, 63, 260, 370
The Shawshank Redemption (1994), 52,
176
She Done Him Wrong (1933), 117
Et Sheaava Nafshi (Keep Not Silent:
Ortho-Dykes, 2004), 468
Shelley, Mary, 384
Shelley, Percy Bysshe, 212
The Sheltering Sky (1990), 245
Shenandoah (1965), 363
The Shepherd (also known as
Cybercity, 1999), 172
Shi mian mai fu (House of Flying
Daggers, 2004), 126 – 27
Shichinin no samurai (Seven Samurai,
1954), 95, 281, 283
Shihuang, Qin (Emperor), 126
Shin heike monogatari (Tales of the
Taira Clan, 1955), 326
Shin Sena, 467
Shine (1996), 44
The Shining (1980), 55, 235, 277, 278

The Shining (King), 277
Shinto, 95, 250, 321, 323, 324, 343;
shrines, 97, 253; temples, 249
Shirow, Masamune, 252
Shiva, 215, 311
Shoah (1985), 180
Sholay (1975), 78
Shoot the Piano Player (1960). See
Tirez sur le pianiste
Shooting Dogs (2005), 5
Short Cuts (1993), 13
A Short Film About Killing (1988).
See Krótki film o zabijaniu
A Short Film About Love (1988). See
Krótki film o miłości
Shoten, Sakaki, 321
Shower (1999). See Xizao
Siberling, Brad, 23 – 24
Sicily, Italy, 103; Sicilian code, 142
Siddhartha (1927), 333
Siddartha (Hesse), 333
Siddhartha Gautama, 95, 181
Siddiqui, Ahmed, 78
The Siege (1998), 243, 246, 248
The Sign of the Cross (1932), 148,
149, 150
Signis, 348
Signs (2002), 364
Sikhism, 216
Sikhs, 247
The Silence (1963). See Tystnaden
The Silence of Dean Maitland
(1914), 40
The Silence of the Lambs (1991), 234
Silent film, 45, 75, 76, 128, 134,
149, 177, 220, 261, 301, 331, 375,
393 – 400, 444, 457; silent film
industry, 254
Silent Movie (1976), 92
Silsila (The Affair, 1981), 78
Index | 633
Silver Bullet (1985), 134
Silver, Joan Micklin, 264
Simón del desierto (Simon of the
Desert, 1965), 100, 101, 179
Simon, Neil, 92
Simon of the Desert (1965). See
Simón del desierto
Simon Stylites, 179
Simon Wiesenthal Center, 351
Sims Act (1912), 117
Sinbad: Legend of the Seven Seas
(2003), 27
Singer, Bryan, 409
Singer, Isaac Bashevis, 228
Sioux, 93. See also American Indians
Sippy, Ramesh, 78
La Sirene du Missisipi (Mississippi
Mermaid, 1969), 440
Sirens, 139
Sirens (1994), 41, 135
Sissoko, Cheick Oumar, 3
Sister Act (1992), 111, 179
Sisters of Bethany, 82
Sita, 76, 77
Sixteen Candles (1984), 371
The Sixth Sense (1999), 335
Det Sjunde Inseglet (The Seventh Seal,
1957), 58, 59, 178, 332, 426
The Skeleton Key (2005), 454 – 55
Skinheads, 227
Skins (2002), 18
The Sky Over Berlin (also known as
Wings of Desire). See Der Himmel
über Berlin
The Sky Pilot (1921), 397
Slater, Christian, 429
Sleepers (1996), 132
Sloman, Edward, 152
Small Change (1976). See L’Argent de
poche
634 | Index
Smith, Joseph, 459
Smith, Kevin Patrick, 20, 24 – 25,
400 – 402
Smith, Paul, 315
Smoke Signals (1998), 17, 18, 372
Smultronstället (Wild Strawberries,
1957), 59
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
(1937), 304
Social gospel, 395
Socialism, 376; Portuguese socialist,
112; Russian socialist, 251
Societé Générale des Films, 160
Society for Biblical Literature, 69
The Soft Skin (1964). See La Peau
douce
Soka Gakkai, 310
Solaris (1972). See Solyaris
Soldati, Mario, 347
Soldiers of the Cross (1900),
39 – 40, 43
Solidarity, 271, 274
Solomon, King, 299
Solyaris (Solaris, 1972), 421
Somalia, 246
Sometimes Happiness, Sometimes
Sorrow (2001). See Kabhi Kushi
Kabhie Gham
Son of Man (2005), 5, 6
The Son of the Bride (2001). See El
Hijo de la Novia
The Song of Bernadette (1943), 111,
120, 121, 129 – 30
Song of Songs, 299
Sophocles, 203
The Sopranos (television), 142
The Sorrows of Satan (1926), 152
Soshun (Early Spring, 1956), 343
Soubirous, Berndette, 111 – 12, 130
Soul Food (1997), 72, 73
Souls for Sale (1922), 128
Souls on the Road (1921). See Rojo no
Reikon
The Sound of Music (1965), 111, 131,
370, 371, 372
Sous le Soleil di Satan (Under the Sun
of Satan, 1987), 180
South Africa, 4, 5, 133; Truth and
Reconciliation Commission, 5 – 6
South America, 155; South American
films, 428. See also Latin America;
specific countries
South Asia, 97; South Asian culture,
214. See also Asia
South Asians, 217
South Carolina, 467
Southeast Asia, 96, 97. See also Asia
Southern Baptist Convention, 288
Southern Carrier (1937). See
Courrier sud
South Gippsland, Australia, 41
Southon, A.E. (Arthur Eustace), 150
South Pacific, 239, 389
Soviet Union, 36, 271, 373, 376, 419,
420, 421, 460; Soviet director, 49.
See also Russia
Spaceballs (1987), 92, 93
Spain, 101, 459; conquistadores,
241 – 42; Spanish Civil War, 100;
Spanish films, 179
Spaniard, 179
Spanish Harlem (Manhattan), 111
The Sparrow (1973). See Al-Asfur
Sparrows (1926), 397
Spartacus (1960), 276, 278
Spelling, Aaron, 155
Spellman, Francis (Cardinal), 314
Spence, William Hartzell, 130
Spencer, Herbert, 99
Spider-Man (2002), 340, 357

Spider-Man 2 (2004), 357
Spider-Man 3 (2007), 410
Spielberg, Steven, 156, 212, 230, 264,
308, 358
Spirited Away (2000). See Sen to
Chihiro no Kamikakushi
Spiritualist groups, 302
Sports, 402 – 8
Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter . . . and
Spring (2003). See Bom yeoreum
gaeul gyeoul geurigo bom
Springall, Alejandro, 294
Springtime for Hitler (stage), 94
St. Joan (Shaw), 63
St. Louis University, 108
St. Patrick’s Cathedral (NY), 314
St. Patrick’s Day, 108
St. Petersburg, Russia, 374
St. Valentine’s Day, 45
Stachka (Strike, 1925), 376
Stagecoach (1939), 461
Stairway to Heaven. See A Matter of
Life and Death
Stalin, Joseph, 271, 377
Stalker (1979), 378, 421, 422
Stanley and Livingstone (1939), 130
Star of David, 230
Star Trek (television), 373, 461;
conventions, 190; fans, 190
Star Trek: First Contact (1996), 387
Star Trek: Nemesis (2002)
Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan
(1982), 372
Star Trek V: The Final Frontier
(1989), 202
Star Wars (1977), 53, 92, 122, 138,
175, 189, 191, 339, 369, 372, 373,
425, 427, 460, 461
“Star Wars: A Myth for Our Time”
(Gordon), 189
Index | 635
Star Wars: Episode V—The Empire
Strikes Back (1980), 203, 460
Star Wars: Episode VI—Return of the
Jedi (1983), 460
Stardust Memories (1980), 7, 8
Starhawk (Miriam Simos), 466
Starr, Kevin, 393
Steadicam, 277 – 78
The Stepford Wives (1975; 2004), 387,
466
Stephen, 40, 350
Steppenwolf (1974), 334
Steppenwolf (Hesse), 333
Stevens, George, 226, 255
Stevenson, Robert, 263
Steward, Doug, 329
Steward, Mike, 92
Stigmata (1999), 114, 134, 236, 335–36
De Stilte rond Christine M. (A Question
of Silence, 1982), 465
Stoker, Bram, 444, 445
Stone, Bryan, 188
Stone, Merlin, 466
Stone, Oliver, 286
Storm Over Asia (1928). See Potomok
Chingis-Khana
The Story of a Fountain Pen
(1939), 316
Story of Floating Weeds (1934). See
Ukikusa monogatari
The Story of Mankind (1957), 262
Stowe, Harriet Beecher, 120
La strada (The Road, 1954), 184, 185
Strange Days (1995), 359
A Strange Meeting (1909), 395
A Stranger Among Us (1992), 134,
268, 269
Stranger than Fiction (2006), 341
Strawberries and Chocolate (1994).
See Fresa y Chololate
636 | Index
Strike (1925). See Stachka
Strike Me Lucky (1934), 43
Strikebound (1983), 41
Strindberg, August, 161
Studio Ghibli, 320. See also
Miyazaki, Hayao
Subspecies (1991), 447
Subspecies II: Bloodstone (1993),
447
Subspecies III: Bloodlust (1994), 447
Subspecies IV: Bloodstorm (1998),
447
Sugar Hill (also known as The Zombies
of Sugar Hill and Voodoo Girl,
1994), 454
Sugata Sanshirô (1943), 279
Suleiman, Elia, 38
The Sum of Us (1994), 42
Sumer, 411
Summer of Sam (1999), 55
Sundance Film Festival, 5
Sunshine (1999), 227
Superheroes, 354, 356 – 57, 359,
408 – 13
Superman: The Movie (1978), 339,
409, 425
Superman II (1980), 409
Superman Returns (2006), 409
Supreme Being, 54. See also God
“Suraj Hua Madham,” 80
Surrealism, 99, 154, 179, 184, 296.
See also Realism
Sutherland, Donald, 11
Suzie Gold (2004), 267, 268
Suzuki, Norifumi, 253
SVI. See Scriptures Visualized
Institute
The Swan Princess (1994), 329
Sweden, 159, 161, 178, 422
The Sweet Hereafter (1997), 55
The Sweet Life (1960). See La dolce
vita
The Swindle (1955). See Il bidone
“Sword and Sandal” films, 297
Sydney, Australia, 40, 41, 44
Syria, 35
Szabo, Istvan, 227
Szpilman, Wladyslaw, 181
T’ai Chi Chuan, 127
Tabu (1931), 240
Taiwan, 123, 124
Takahata, Isao, 253
Takayama, Hideki, 253
Tales of the Taira Clan (1955). See
Shin heike monogatari
Tales of Ugetsu (1953). See Ugetsu
monogatari
The Tale of the Priest and of His
Workman Balda (1934), 376
Taliban, 243
Talmud, 230, 308
The Taming of the Shrew
(Shakespeare), 371
Tanovic, Danis, 180
Tantric Buddhism, 96
Taoism, 140, 251. See also Daoism
Tarantino, Quentin, 296, 415 – 19
Tarkovsky, Andrei Arsenyevich, 378,
419 – 23
Taxi Driver (1976), 381, 391
TBN. See Trinity Broadcasting
Network
Technicolor, 150, 210, 305
Teeth (2007), 465
Teilhard de Chardin, Pierre, 48
The Tempest (Shakespeare), 305
Ten Commandments, 30, 180, 274
The Ten Commandments (1927), 148,
149, 398

The Ten Commandments (1956), 26,
65, 67, 147, 150, 222, 223, 236,
340, 372
Tender Mercies (1983), 135
Tengoku to jigoku (High and Low,
1963), 282
Tenku no Shiro Rapyuta (Castle in the
Sky, 1986), 322
Teorema (Theorem, 1968), 349
The Terminator (1984), 167, 339, 359,
386
Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991),
167, 371, 386
Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines
(2003), 167, 386
Terror of the Living Dead (also known
as The Hanging Woman, 1973). See
La orgía de los muertos
Teseo contro il minotauro (The
Minotaur, 1960), 203
Tess of the Storm Country (1914), 397
Texas, 135, 139
Tezuka, Osamu, 252
Thailand, 95
Thanksgiving, 372
That Cold Day in the Park (1969), 13
That Obscure Object of Desire (1977).
See Cet obscure objet du désir
Thatcher, Margaret, 87
Theology and Film, 423 – 29
Theology Goes to the Movies
(Marsh), 425
Theology Through Film (Hurley), 425
Theorem (1968). See Teorema
Theravada Buddhism, 95
Theresa (of Avila), 278
Thérése (1986), 180
Thérése of Liseux, St. 180
There Was a Father (1942). See
Chichi ariki
Index | 637
There Will Be Blood (2007), 363
A Thief in the Night (1972), 168,
170, 318
Thieves like Us (1974), 13
Thiman, Elizaveta, 375
Things to Come (1936), 173
The Third Miracle (1999), 114
30 Days of Night (2007), 444
Thomas, Gospel of, 309
Thompson, Donald W., 318
Thompson, Hunter S., 196
Thompson, William Asbury, 130
Thornton, Billy Bob, 224
“This Week in Bible Prophecy,” 319
Thoroughly Modern Millie
(1967), 370
Three Colors: Blue (1993). See Trois
couleurs: Bleu
Three Colors: Red (1994). See Trois
couleurs: Rouge
Three Colors: White (1994). See Trzy
kolory: Bialy
Three Extremes (2004). See Saam
gaang yi
Three Extremes II (2002). See Saam
gang
300 (2006), 203
Three Wise Men, 179
3 Women (1977), 13
Throne of Blood (1957). See
Kumonosu jô
Through a Glass Darkly (1961). See
Såsom I en spegel
Thunderheart (1992), 17, 342
Tiamat, 465
Tibetan Buddhism, 95, 96, 97, 181
Tillich, Paul, 187, 277
Time Bandits (1981), 194, 195,
198 – 200
Time Changer (2002), 363
638 | Index
The Time Machine (Wells), 384
Tirez sur le pianiste (Shoot the Piano
Player, 1960), 440
Titan, A.E. (2000), 329
Tito, Josip Broz, 347
The Tornado (1992). See al-A’asar
To Be or Not to Be (1983), 91
Tobias, 20
Tobit, Book of, 20
To End All Wars (2001), 364
To the Devil a Daughter (1976), 155
Tower of Babel, 252
Togliatti, Palmiro, 349
Tokyo, Japan, 97, 326, 345
Tôkyô monogatari (Tokyo Story,
1953), 343, 345
Tokyo Story (1953). See Tôkyô
monogatari
Tolkien, J.R.R. (John Ronald Reuel),
104, 174 – 75, 305; “On Fairy
Stories” (Tolkien), 175
Tolkin, Michael, 170, 429 – 33
Tolstoy, Leo, 84, 280, 375
Tonari no Totoro (My Neighbor
Totoro, 1988), 322
Tony award, 91, 92, 96
The Tony Fontane Story (1963), 317
El Topo (1970), 334
Tora no o wo fumu otokotachi (The
Men Who Tread on the Tiger’s Tail,
1945), 282
Torah, 226, 227, 268, 308. See also
Bible; Hebrew Bible; Hebrew
Scriptures, Old Testament
Totalitarianism, 460
Tournier, Michel, 181
Transcendentalists, 95
Transylvania, Romania, 445
Trapped by the Mormons
(1922), 328
Trappist monks, 111
Travail et culture, 48
Travolta, John, 154
Trevi Fountain (Rome), 186
Trial of Joan of Arc (1962). See
Procès de Jeanne d’Arc
Tribulation (2000), 170
Tribulation, 168 – 69
Trier, Lars von, 157, 161, 178, 331,
433 – 37
Trinidad, 218
The Trinity, 378
Trinity Broadcasting Network (TBN),
169, 319
A Trip to the Moon (1902). See Le
Voyage dans la lune
Tristan and Isolde, 277, 331
Trois couleurs: Bleu (Three Colors:
Blue, 1993), 275
Trois couleurs: Rouge (Three Colors:
Red, 1994), 180, 275
Trojan War, 26; Trojan Horse, 206
The Trojan Women (1971), 203
Tron (1982), 335
Trotsky, Leon, 375
Troy, 206
Troy (2004), 203, 205, 206, 340
True Grit (1969), 462
True Lies (1994), 243, 247
True Romance (1993), 415
Truffaut, François, 47, 156 – 57, 180,
437 – 41; “Une certain tendance du
cinema francais,” 157
Truly Madly Deeply (1990), 425
The Truman Show (1998), 427
Tryon, Tom, 155
Trzy kolory: Bialy (Three Colors:
White, 1994), 275
Tsubaki Sanjûrô (Sanjuro, 1962), 95,
281

Tuchi nad Borskom (Clouds over
Borsk, 1960), 377
Tucker: The Man and his Dream
(1988), 141
Tucker, George Loane, 263, 398
Tunisia, 3
Turin, Italy, 213
Turkey, 43, 247; Turkish Army, 446
Turks, 244
Turner, Victor, 189
Tutsis, 5
Tutti I colori del buio (All the Colors
of the Dark, 1976), 156
TV Guide, 48
The Twelve Chairs (1970), 10
Twelve Monkeys (1995), 167, 194,
195, 386
Twentieth Century Fox, 154,
316, 328
20,000 Leagues Under the Sea
(Verne), 384
Twilight (2008), 448
The Twinkle in God’s Eye (1955), 130
2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), 276,
278, 333, 384 – 85, 421
The 2000 Year Old Man in the Year
2000 (recording), 91
Tykwer, Tom, 176, 180, 213 – 14, 275
Tylor, E. B. (Edward Burnett), 303
Tystnaden (The Silence, 1963), 178
Tzu, Lao, 125, 126
Uccellacci e uccellini (The Hawks and
the Sparrows, 1966), 349, 350
UCLA. See University of California,
Los Angeles
Ucicky, Gustav, 261
UFO. See Unidentified Flying Object
Ugetsu monogatari (Tales of Ugetsu,
1953), 250, 325, 326
Index | 639
Ukhod velikovo startza (Departure of
a Grand Old Man, 1912), 375
Ukikusa monogatari (Story of
Floating Weeds, 1934), 343
La Última Cena (The Last Supper,
1976), 290, 291
Ultra-Orthodox (Haredi) Jews, 134,
268 – 69
Ultraviolet (1998; 2006), 444
Uluru. See Ayers Rock (Australia)
Ulysses, 58, 139
Unbreakable (2000), 340
Uncle Tom’s Cabin (Stowe), 120
The Undead (1957), 153
Under the Sun of Satan (1987). See
Sous le Soleil di Satan
Underworld (2003), 444
Une femme taxi à Sidi Bel-Abbes
(A Female Cabby in Sidi Bel-Abbes,
2000), 35
Unforgiven (1992), 203, 462
De unge år: Erik Nietzsche sagaen
del 1 (The Early Years: Erik
Nietzsche, Part I, 2007), 434
Der Unhold (The Ogre, 1996), 181
The Unholy (1988), 236
Unidentified Flying Object (UFO),
139
United Artists, 287, 398
United Church of Christ, 288
United Kingdom, 86. See also Britain;
England
United Nations, 168, 170
United States, 24, 32, 34, 67, 90, 95,
96, 97, 100, 126, 169, 193, 194,
212, 217, 222, 232, 235, 236, 264,
266, 313, 318, 334, 350, 352, 389,
410, 450, 460. See also America
United States Conference of Catholic
Bishops, 288, 351
640 | Index
United States Conference of
Catholic Bishops: Office for
Film and Broadcasting, 113. See
also Catholic Communication
Campaign; Catholic League;
Legion of Decency; National
Catholic Office for Motion Pictures
(NCOMP)
United States Constitution: First
Amendment, 120, 286, 313
United States government: Congress,
117; Senate, 130, 362; Supreme
Court, 120, 312, 314
United States military, 143, 368;
Army, 91; Department of Defense,
247; Marines, 246, 247
United States v. Paramount Pictures,
Inc., 313
Universal Product Code (UPC), 169
Universal Studios, 155, 285, 286,
287 – 88, 444
University of California, Los Angeles
(UCLA), 381
Unstrung Heroes (1995), 368
UPC. See Universal Product Code
Upper Volta. See Burkina Faso
Uppsala, Sweden, 56
Uptown Saturday Night (1974), 133
Un urlo nelle tenebre (The Return of
the Exorcist, 1975), 156
Urs al-jalil (Wedding in Galilee,
1987), 368
Utah, 330
V for Vendetta (2005), 412
Vadim, Roger, 464
The Vagabond (1951). See Awaara
Valenti, Jack, 120
Valentino, Rudolph, 328
Valley of the Wolves: Iraq (2006). See
Kurtlar vadisi—Irak
Vamp (1986), 465
Vamp, 464, 465
Vampire: The Masquerade, 449
Vampires, 134, 156, 161, 233, 411,
443 – 49, 465; Jewish vampire, 447
Vampyres (1974), 444
Van Dieman’s Land, Australia, 40
Van Gennep, Arnold, 369
Il vangelo secondo Matteo (The
Gospel According to St. Matthew,
1964), 179, 348, 350
Van Gogh, Vincent, 13
Van Helsing (2004), 134, 236, 444
Vanilla Sky (2001), 54, 361
The Vanishing American (1925), 15
Varanasi, India, 467
Vatican, 113, 134, 144, 184, 185,
236, 276, 334, 336, 353. See also
Catholicism; Roman Catholic
Church
Vatican II, 112, 351. See also Second
Vatican Council
Venice Film Festival, 161, 313
Verne, Jules, 384
Vertov, Dziga, 376
Vichy, France, 132
Victorian era, 303, 444, 394, 395;
piety, 397; scholars of, 301, 303;
Victorian ghost story, 231
La Vida es Silvar (Life Is to Whistle,
1998), 291, 294
Vidal, Gore, 186
Vidor, King, 396
La Vie et La Passion du Christ (The
Passion Play, 1903), 374
Vietnam War, 11, 13, 368;
post-Vietnam era, 11; Vietnam era,
130; Vietnam veteran, 143, 335
View Askew Productions, 401. See
also Smith, Kevin Patrick
Vigilanti Cura (Pius XI), 108

Village Voice, 429
Vincent and Theo (1990), 13
Vinterberg, Thomas, 157, 158, 434
La Virgen de los Sicarios (Our Lady
of the Assassins, 2000), 293
Virgil, 143
The Virginian (1914), 457
Virgin Mary, 293, 398. See also
Blessed Virgin; Mary, mother of
Jesus
The Virgin Spring (1960). See
Jungfrukallan
Viridiana (1961), 100
Virtuousity (1995), 359
Vishnu, 77, 311
Vision quest, 367, 371
The Visitor (1979), 156
VistaVision, 150
La Vita é bella (Life is Beautiful,
1997), 267, 342
Vivement dimanche (Confidentially
Yours, 1983), 441
Vladimir, Russia, 420
“Vodka, the Church, and the Cinema”
(Trotsky), 375
La Voie lactée (The Milky Way, 1969),
101, 179
Volkoff, Alexandre, 375
Voodoo, 235, 450 – 56
Voodoo Girl (also known as The
Zombies of Sugar Hill, 1994). See
Sugar Hill
Voodoo Island (1957), 452
Vørsel, Nils, 435 – 36
Le Voyage dans la lune (A Trip to the
Moon, 1902), 384
Vrendens dag (Day of Wrath, 1943),
132, 161, 177
Vsyo ostayotsya lyudyam (Every-
thing Remains for the People,
1963), 377
Index | 641
Wachowski, Laurence and Andrew,
311, 312, 339
Wacks, Jonathan, 17
Wadja, Andrzej, 273
Wagner, Richard, 144
Wagon Master (1950), 328
Wagon Train (television), 328, 461
Wait Until Dark (1967), 371
Waking Life (2001), 336
Walkabout (1971), 368
Walker, Alice, 97
The Walking Dead (1936), 451
Walt Disney Company, 24, 26, 28, 96,
188, 245, 246, 248, 288, 306, 369
Wandâfuru raifu (After Life, 1998),
252, 253
Wang, Wayne, 96
The War of the Worlds (1953),
133 – 34
War of the Worlds (2005), 340, 388
War of the Worlds (Wells), 384
Ward, Vincent, 211
WarGames (1983), 172, 386
Warner Bros. Studios, 319
Warren, Rick, 352
Warsaw, Poland, 271, 273, 274
Washington, D.C., 165, 166
Washita Massacre, 17
Wasserman, Lew, 287
Waszynski, Michal, 266
Water (2005), 467
Watts, Alan, 97
Wayne, John, 339, 362, 459
Webber, Andrew Lloyd, 255
Weber, Lois, 395, 396
Wedding in Galilee (1987). See Urs
al-jalil
We Free Kings (1996). See I magi
randagi
Wegener, Paul, 231 – 32
Weir, Peter, 44, 45, 268
642 | Index
In weiter Ferne, so nah! (Faraway,
So Close, 1993), 23, 180
Weksler-Waskinel, Fr. Romuald
Jakub, 230
Welles, Orson, 169, 348, 438
Wells, H. G. (Herbert George), 180,
384, 385
Wells, Sam, 263
Wenders, Wim, 21, 22 – 23, 24, 180,
212
Werewolves on Wheels (1971), 154
West Africans, 239; West African
spiritual traditions, 467
West Bank, Palestine, 37 – 38
West Coast, United States, 95, 457
Westerns, 92, 120, 134, 150, 151,
252, 296, 297, 299, 339, 384, 396,
397, 418, 444, 457 – 63; American
Westerns, 281; Curry Westerns,
78, 457; Spaghetti Westerns, 297,
415, 457
West Indies, 450
West Side Story (1961), 370
Whale Rider (2002), 242 – 43, 336
Whale, James, 232
What am I to You . . .! (1994). See Hum
Aapke Hain Koun . . .!
What Dreams May Come (1998), 211,
212, 213, 331
What Is Wrong with the Movies?
(Rice), 424
What the #&*! Do We (K)now?!
(2004), 336
Wheel of Time (2003), 181
When Harry Met Sally . . . (1989),
339
Where Are My Children (1916), 396
Where the Green Ants Dream (1984).
See Wo die grünen Ameisen
träumen
Where the Red Fern Grows (1974),
329
Which Way is Up? (1977), 71
The White Buffalo (1977), 372
“White Nights” (Dostoyevsky), 84
The White Sister (1923), 399
White Zombie (1932), 235, 450, 452
Who’s That Knocking at My Door
(1967). See I Call First
Why Wasn’t He There? (1993). See
Senkiföldje
Wicca, 406
Wilberforce, William, 135, 362
Wilcot, Horace, 394
The Wild Child (1970). See L’Enfant
Sauvage
Wild Strawberries (1957). See
Smultronstället
Wilder, Billy, 286
Wildmon, Donald, 286
Willoughby, Bertram, 316
Willoughby, George, 44, 263
Wilson, Dorothy Clarke, 150
Wimmer, Kurt, 444
The Wind Will Carry Us (1999). See
Bad ma ra khahad bord
Wings of Desire (also known as The
Sky Over Berlin, 1987). See Der
Himmel über Berlin
Winter Light (1962). See
Nattvardsgästerna
Wired Angel (1999), 263
Wister, Owen, 457
Witchcraft Through the Ages (1968),
154
The Witches (1922). See Häxan
The Witches of Eastwick (1987), 305
Witchfinder General (also known as
The Conqueror Worm, 1968), 305
Witness (1985), 268, 364

The Wizard of Oz (1939), 211, 305 – 6,
371, 372
Wo de fu qin mu qin (The Road Home,
1999), 124, 368
Wo die grünen Ameisen träumen
(Where the Green Ants Dream,
1984), 181
Wo Hu Cang Long (Crouching Tiger,
Hidden Dragon, 2000), 97 – 98,
125, 126
Wojtyla, Karol (Cardinal), 272
Woman Thou Art Loosed (2004), 71,
73, 133
Women, 463 – 69
Women and Film, 463
Women in Spirituality series. See
The Burning Times; Full Circle;
Goddess Remembered
The Wonderful Visit (Wells), 180
Wong Fei Hung II: Naam yi dong
ji keung (Once Upon a Time in
China II, 1992), 127
Wood Painting (Berman), 58
The Wooden Man’s Bride (1994). See
Wu Kui
The Word (1955). See Ordet
Wordsworth, William, 212
Working Title Films, 89
Works Progress Administration
(WPA), 139
World Cup Tournament, 135
World Series, 176, 407
World War I, 44, 129, 213, 215, 263,
316, 362, 399
World War II, 21, 22, 86, 91, 93, 93,
100, 103, 120, 129, 132, 139,
150, 180, 181, 210, 211, 227,
249, 272, 317, 332, 333, 377, 379,
389, 398, 404, 408, 419, 459;
America’s entry into, 316; Axis
Index | 643
powers, 408. See also Second
World War
WPA. See Works Progress
Administration
Wpisany w gwiazde Davida (Cross
Inscribed in the Star of David,
1997), 230, 231
Wright, Harold Bell, 396
Wu Kui (The Wooden Man’s Bride,
1994), 124
“X”: The Man With the X-Ray Eyes
(1963), 234
X-Men (2000), 340
X-Men: The Last Stand (2006),
410
Xingfu shiguang (Happy Times,
2000), 124
Xizao (Shower, 1999), 124
X2: X-Men United (2003), 410
The Yacoubian Building (2006). See
‘Imarat al-Ya’ qubiyan
Yaddun ilahiya (Divine Intervention,
2002), 28
The Yakuza (1974), 381
The Yanqui Cur (1913), 395
Yeats, William Butler, 212
Yentl (1983), 134, 269
Yiddish, 92, 93; cinema, 265, 266,
399; tale, 332
Yimou, Zhang, 123, 124, 126, 128
Ying xiong (Hero, 2002), 126
Yin shin an nu (Eat Drink Man
Woman, 1994), 96, 124, 127
Yo, La Peor de Todas (I, the Worst of
All, 1990), 291
Yojimbo (1961), 95, 252, 253, 281,
283
Yom Kippur, 267, 268, 399
644 | Index

York, Alvin C., 362 Zen Buddhism, 95, 96, 97, 191, 249,
Yoruba, 467 281, 310, 331, 343, 344. See also
Young Frankstein (1974), 92, 94 Chan Buddhism
Young Torless (1966). See Der Junge Zeoli, Billy, 317
Törless Zerkalo (The Mirror, 1975), 378, 421
Your Show of Shows (television), 10, Zeus, 26, 27
92 Zhang, Yang, 124
YouTube, 18 Zhivoy (The Hero, 2006), 378
Yu, Ronny, 123, 125 Zion, 168
Yucatan, Mexico, 242 Zionism, 33
Zipporah, 26
Zanussi, Krzysztof, 273 Zola, Emile, 395
Al Zawadj al-mukhtalat fi-l-ardi Zombie. (1979). See Zombi 2
al-muqadassa (Forbidden Zombies, 232, 233, 235, 450; zombie
Marriages in the Holy Land, films, 444
1995), 37 Zombies of Mora Tau (1957), 452
Żebrowski, Edek, 273 The Zombies of Sugar Hill (also
Zechariah, Book of, 70 known as Voodoo Girl, 1994). See
Zedong, Mao, 123 Sugar Hill
Zeffirelli, Franco, 69, 257, 266 Zombi 2 (Zombie, 1979), 453
Zelig (1983), 7, 9 Zucker, Adolph, 264
Zemlya (Earth, 1930), 375 – 76 Zwick, Edward, 97