Scriptura 85 (2004), pp. 97-109

THE HIDDEN JESUS WITHIN POPULAR FILMS: CHRIST-FIGURES AS SACRED SUBTEXTS Anton Karl Kozlovic School of Humanities The Flinders University of South Australia Abstract Jesus films abound, but less appreciated are the numerous hidden Jesus characters built into popular films, the Christ-figures. Although their existence, re-discovery and crafting is an ever-burgeoning area of academic religious discourse, Christfigures are frequently ignored by critics, unappreciated by film fans, or resisted by religionists and anti-religionists alike for a variety of unwholesome reasons. Using textually based, humanist film criticism as the analytical lens, a brief survey of the popular cinema and associated critical literature was conducted to identify, illustrate and explicate this religious phenomenon. Five categories were explored herein, namely: (1) “normal” Christ-figures, (2) alien Christ-figures; (3) female Christ-figures; (4) animal Christ-figures; and (5) inanimate Christ-figures. It was concluded that the field is a living genre whose future looks undiminished in the foreseeable future, and whose pedagogic utility for religious education has not been fully tapped to date. Further research into this exciting interdisciplinary field was recommended.

Introduction In honour of the centenary celebrations of the birth of cinema, J Engelbrecht (1995, p. 13) surveyed a century of Jesus films for the readers of Scriptura. In that process, he made a crucial technical distinction between “Jesus figures and Christ or Messiah figures.” While arguing that there were “many examples of the latter” (p. 13), he restricted himself to surveying the former, including: The Gospel According to St. Matthew, The Greatest Story Ever Told, Jesus of Nazareth, King of Kings and The Last Temptation of Christ. Many more exemplars exist (Campbell & Pitts, 1981; Kinnard & Davis, 1992) and much critical literature services it (Babington & Evans, 1993; Baugh, 1997; Forshey, 1992; Fraser, 1998; Malone, 1988; Stern, Jefford & DeBona, 1999; Tatum, 1997). This cine-survey was a perfectly legitimate undertaking, but Engelbrecht only told the proverbial half-of-the-story. A more complete understanding of the impact of Jesus Christ upon contemporary society requires an appreciation of the numerous Christ-figures subtextually hidden within the popular cinema.

(Covert) Christ-figures versus (Overt) Jesus-figures What is the difference between the two of them? Christ-figures are cinematic transfigurations of Jesus Christ, and are very distinct from Jesus-figures. As Father Peter Malone (1997) explained: “Jesus-figure” refers to any representation of Jesus himself. “Christ-figure” describes any figure in the arts who resembles Jesus. The personal name of Jesus (in line with contemporary spirituality, thought and practice) is used for the Jesus-figure. The title “Christ” – the “Messiah,” or the “Anointed One” – is used for those who are seen to reflect his mission [i.e., Christ-figures]. In cinema, writers and directors present both Jesus-figures and Christ-figures (pp. 59-60).

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Thus, a Christ-figure does not consciously try to copy popular conceptions of the biblical Jesus. Nor do they try to recreate with any degree of authenticity his time, place or assumed image based upon history, archaeology or fine arts portraiture. In practice, this means that Christ-figures are not necessarily male, tall, have long hair, blue eyes and WASP features. Nor do they necessarily wear white, hippie style togas while cavorting around ancient, rustic or desert environments. Technically speaking, Christ-figures can be as ethnically diverse as the whole of humanity, they can be of any gender, colour or shape, and they need not even be human, biological or alive. Because of this, the hidden cinematic Jesus is not always easily identified by viewers, especially those uninitiated in the ways of religious cinema and the vicissitudes of sacred subtexts.

Sacred Subtexts and Religious Agendas What exactly are sacred subtexts (aka holy subtexts, divine infranarrations)? In essence, a filmic narrative can have a dual nature, namely, an overt plot plus a covert storyline of varying complexity that is comparable to the metaphorical or symbolic within literature. As Bernard Dick (1998, p. 129) described this relationship: “The narrative and infranarrative (or text and subtext) are not two separate entities (there is, after all, only one film); think of them, rather, as two concentric circles, the infranarrative being within the narrative.” In short, a sacred subtext is the construction of “overtly religious themes in a secular ‘wrapper’” (Ellis, 2001, p. 304). Through this narratological arrangement, secular films can engage in religious storytelling without appearing “religious” and possibly scarring away potential customers. Regrettably, such delightful examples of Christ-figure craftsmanship have frequently been ignored by critics, unappreciated by film fans, or actively resisted by religionists and anti-religionists alike for a variety of unwholesome reasons. This resistance can range from psychological denial, to fear of spiritual contamination, to trenchant opposition to the religious mindset, especially by atheists, scientific rationalists and the religiously wounded with unforgiving dispositions (Kozlovic, 2003). Ironically, amongst aficionados, Christfigures are so common today that a certain degree of critical fatigue has set in. This was aptly demonstrated by Leif H (1999, p. 2) when he annoyingly claimed about The Matrix: “This movie is so chock full of obvious Christian symbolism you could choke on it,” or as the eponymously named Mr. Cranky! (2000) cynically complained about Braveheart: [There is] a really long and protracted moment where the camera lovingly dotes on Mel Gibson [playing William Wallace] as he is taken to a platform to be tortured. It’s the kind of moment that makes preschoolers point to the screen and say, ‘Christ figure!, Christ figure!’ Either that or: ‘Look! He’s shamelessly grooming himself for the Oscars!’ (Oscar committees love Christ figures.) (p. 1).

As such, the time is now ripe for the academic religious community to get up to speed with this pop culture phenomenon. If not, then they run the considerable embarrassment of having secular commentators knowing more about celluloid religion than themselves! Surprisingly, only scant scholarly research has been conducted in the Christ-figure area to date (Aitken, 1999; Baugh, 1997; Deacy, 1999) with Paul Otto Brunstad (2001, p. 151) recently suggesting that: “To formulate criteria for evaluating the abundance of Christfigures that have emerged through the first century of film history is a task for further discussion.” Now is that time. The critical literature was reviewed and integrated herein to enhance narrative coherence (albeit, with a strong reportage flavour). Using textually based, humanist film criticism as the analytical lens (Bywater & Sobchack, 1989), a preliminary scan of the

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popular cinema was conducted. It revealed five categories of Christ-figures, namely: (1) “normal” Christ-figures, (2) alien Christ-figures; (3) female Christ-figures; (4) animal Christ-figures; and (5) inanimate Christ-figures. The following is a brief introductory explication of each of these categories. ‘Normal’ Christ-figures This variety of hidden Jesus usually depicts a person who looks normal, but is more than normal, who is often found in the strangest of places and under the oddest of disguises. For example, in Destination Unknown: A stranger (Ralph Bellamy) appears on a ship that is stranded on the Pacific Ocean with no wind, and brings peace to those on board. When the ship is wrecked, the stranger saves the crew and passengers and then disappears. This well-done programmer implies that the stranger is Jesus Christ and the miracle of the changing of salt water into fresh water is shown (Campbell & Pitts, 1981, p. 111).

Neil P Hurley (1982, p. 68) considered that Arnold the tramp (Jean-Claude Guilbert) in Au Hasard, Balthazar was the subtextual Jesus character of the film. Why? Because “he receives a Judas kiss before dying; he rides on an ass; he even, as Jean Luc Godard put it to [Robert] Bresson, has something of the look of Jesus.” Indeed, Christopher Deacy (1999, p. 336) argued that: “the Antiochene emphasis of Christ’s total humanity is an especially suitable model for understanding the function of Christ-figures in contemporary film.” Which is why he suggested that: “Scorsese’s The Last Temptation of Christ, Taxi Driver, and Raging Bull, may be seen to constitute a fertile site of Antiochene christological significance, in respect of the depiction of both religious and ‘secular’ Christ-figures.” Or as Michael Grimshaw (1999) elaborated regarding Taxi Driver: …the main character and anti-hero Travis Bickle (Robert de Niro) refers to himself as “God’s lonely man” – a fitting sobriquet for their Jesus. This is Jesus the loner, who prefers, it seems, to spend time off by himself – misunderstood, misunderstanding and often mistaken and yet who finds, as in all “goodfella” movies, that, in the end, the God Father makes you an offer you can’t refuse (p. 154).

Or as David J Graham (1997) pointed out regarding the remake of Scorsese’s Cape Fear: The anti-hero Max Cady (Robert de Niro) is all of an avenging angel, a destroyer, a bringer of justice, the Bible itself (with his quotations of Scripture), even a Christ figure (unjustly punished, later vindicated). Towards the end, he is even ‘resurrected’. Several readings are possible. Cady is a Christ and an antichrist figure, with the intricate suspense of justice and retribution (p. 312). From an African perspective, one of the most notable black Christ-figures was Maurice Lalubi (Woody Strobe) in the eponymously titled Black Jesus, aka Seduto all sua Destra, which translated means “seated at his right.” Indeed, this alternate title was itself a strong Gospel clue to his subtextual divinity for: “after the Lord had spoken unto them, he [Jesus] was received up into heaven, and sat on the right hand of God” (Mark 16:19 KJV). “Hereafter shall the Son of man [Jesus] sit on the right hand of the power of God” (Luke 22:69 KJV). Purportedly, based upon the life of Patrice Lumumba, the assassinated Prime Minister of the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Black Jesus “draws not-so-subtle parallels between the lives of Lumumba and Jesus” (Pettit Jr., 2002, p. 1). For example: Lalubi, the “holy rebel” (Pettit Jr., 2002, p. 1), was portrayed as a strong, caring, and charismatic leader of a Congolese political party who was wanted dead by powerful government rivals. He was subsequently captured and physically beaten by the opposing

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soldiers, yet he never cursed them or lost compassion for his countrymen. At one point Lalubi said: “He who ain’t with me, is against me” (Cunningham, 2002, p. 1), presumably in imitation of Jesus in Matthew 12:30 (KJV): “He that is not with me is against me.” Lalubi was eventually betrayed, Judas-like, “by a former follower for 100 pieces of silver” (Cunningham, 2002, p. 1) then subsequently killed and turned into a celebrated martyr. The film also subtextually crafted a good thief-figure (aka Luke 23:39-43 KJV) in the form of the compassionate but sad thief, Oreste (Franco Citti) who had shared Lalubi’s prison cell. There was also a Pontius Pilate-figure in the form of the Dutch colonel (Franco Citti) who tried to negotiate Lalubi’s freedom if only he would surrender, recant and avoid his own harrowing execution. Lalubi refused and the colonel had serious second thoughts about his political role, just like his ancient Roman analogue. However, Black Jesus as a Christ-figure film suffered because director: “Zurlini assumes that familiarity with the story of the death of Jesus will supply much of the emotional and informational background to the viewer. However, we are left wondering about very basic elements of the plot” (Pettit Jr., 2002, p. 2), thus leaving us confused and unsatisfied. Historically speaking, the science fiction (SF) genre provided the perfect home for religious storytelling following the decline of the 1950s rash of biblical epics triggered by Cecil B DeMille’s “watershed film” (Schatz, 1997, p. 394), Samson and Delilah. As Hugh Ruppersburg (1987, p. 165) argued: “science fiction films of the 1970s and ’80s serve the same function as the biblical epics of the 1950s and ’60s.” They also functioned like this in the 1900s cinema, and no doubt, they will continue to do so well into the post-Millennial period. For example, Christological imagery was deliberately built into the trashy postapocalyptic movie Cyborg. It starred Jean-Claude Van Damme as the Christ-figure protagonist Gibson Rickenbacker. As Van Damme described his role: I play the messenger of the future, almost God-like, and I’m here to help cure a plague on Earth … Rickenbacker’s not really a superhero, he’s just a person like you or I. But halfway through the story, the guy’s almost physically dead, and when he comes back to save the world, he realizes he’s the ‘chosen one’ (Gilpin, 1989, p. 54).

Visually speaking, there were very profound crucifixion images for this muscleman Christ. The crucifix pose being the signature sign of the divine and much loved by Hollywood storytellers. Director Albert Pyun then layered it with additional religious symbolism: “One touch Pyun added to the crucifixion scene was to have the shadow of the cross fall on the actor’s face as the Flesh Pirates nail him to the ship’s mast” (Gilpin, 1989, p. 55). Presumably, in imitation of the shadow of the cross used in Nicholas Ray’s Jesus film King of Kings. However, Cyborg was not very good, and it proved that using subtextual religious figurations does not automatically guarantee Hollywood success! And yet, it is this Christic subtextual crafting that can turn an ordinary film into an exceptional one as evidenced by The Day the Earth Stood Still (Gabbard, 1982), Superman: The Movie (Kozlovic, 2002) and Twelve Monkeys (Dailey, 2000). Alien Christ-figures The popular cinema also contains numerous examples of extraterrestrial Messiahs, the alien Christ-figures. For example, Barry McMillan (2002, p. 360) argued that the alien protagonists in The Day the Earth Stood Still, E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial, Contact and KPax can be viewed as: “a ‘transcendent’ being – a benign entity who brings wisdom and knowledge, the imparting of which brings resolution, insight and the beginnings of personal or political harmony.” Just as the scriptural Jesus had done. These alien Christ-figures existed because sometimes filmmakers were practicing Christians who wanted to use the

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movies as an evangelical tool, whether with serious, humorous or timid intent. A good case in point is the scriptwriter for the UFO classic The Day the Earth Stood Still: ...Edmund H North himself admitted that the parallels between the story of Christ and Day were intentional: from Klaatu’s earthly name of Carpenter, to the betrayal by Tom Stevens, and finally to his resurrection and ascent into the heavens at Day’s end. “It was my private little joke. I never discussed this angle with [producer Julian] Blaustein or [director Robert] Wise because I didn’t want it expressed. I had originally hoped that the Christ comparison would be subliminal (von Gunden & Stock, 1982, p. 44).

In addition, as North confessed elsewhere: “I didn’t honestly expect audiences to pick up the allusion ... I never wanted it to be a conscious thing, but I thought it had value being there” (Warren & Thomas, 1982, p. 26). Similarly, Richard Donner, the director of Superman: The Movie had initially disowned the Christian origins of his SF film, presumably because of duress. As he reported: “I had life threats, because people accused me of approaching Brando as God and his son was Jesus...we had Scotland Yard, the FBI, and the LAPD looking in to them. I literally had people saying that my blood would run in the streets for doing that” (Plume, 2001, p. 2). But many years later, Donner proudly admitted to the Christic subtext claiming: “It’s a motif I had done at the beginning when [Marlon] Brando sent Chris [Christopher Reeve] to Earth and said, ‘I send them my only son.’ It was God sending Christ to Earth” (Harrington & Kavitsky, 2000, p. 7). Indeed, the parallels between Jesus Christ and Kal-El/Clark Kent/Superman (Christopher Reeve) are quite astonishing (Kozlovic, 2002), and as Paul Leggett (1980, p. 33) argued: “the value of Superman is that he is a messianic symbol, as valid for our time as Charlemagne or Sir Galahad were in the medieval period. The symbol doesn’t substitute as an alternate reality, but points to a greater reality, albeit one it never fully expresses.” Another famous SF alien who followed the Christ-figure trajectory was Spock (Leonard Nimoy), the Vulcan Science Officer from the Star Trek TV series and film franchise. For example, in Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, not only did the theme center “around sacrifice” (Nimoy, 1995, p. 223), that is, Spock gave his life as a ransom for many (aka Matt. 20:28; Mark 10:45 KJV), but the film: ...contains it own versions of Good Friday and a hint of the Easter Sunday to come, as well as its equivalent of the Last Supper, the symbolic meal that anticipated the impending death of Jesus...Not only is Spock’s act of self-sacrifice to save the ship presented in such a way that it echoes with Christ’s surrender for others on the Cross at Calvary, but the shot of Spock’s coffin landing on the Genesis planet hints at the possibilities of a future resurrection...Spock’s exhortation that McCoy [DeForest Kelley] should “Remember!” is reminiscent of the command issued by Jesus Christ to his disciples at the Last Supper, “Do this in remembrance of me.” (recorded in Luke 22:19 and 1 Corinthians 11:24). The two stories (the narrative world of Jesus in the New Testament and the imaginative world of Star Trek) are united in that they contain an all-important call by the one who is to die (Spock in Star Trek and Christ in the New Testament) to the one(s) who are left behind (McCoy in Star Trek and the twelve Apostles in the New Testament) that they are to remember and not forget (Kreitzer, 1999, pp. 155-156).

Furthermore: Scotty [James Doohan] pipes “Amazing Grace” as Spock’s coffin is ejected into space, suggesting that Spock is like Christ, in having sacrificed himself for his fellows, and that, like Christ, he too will be reborn. McCoy [DeForest Kelly] tells Kirk [William Shatner] that Spock is “really not dead as long as we remember him.” Kirk notes in his eulogy that “his

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death takes place in the shadow of new life” and associates it with “the sunrise on a new world” … Spock is symbolically resurrected in the final, accompanying voiceover, in which it is he, not Kirk, who speaks the well-known, standard prologue used in each Star Trek episode on television (Palumbo, 1987, p. 219).

In Star Trek III: The Search for Spock, the dead Vulcan is physically resurrected and his living spirit survived intact in a SF equivalent of Christ’s Second Coming. Interestingly, Leonard Nimoy based Spock upon Michael Rennie’s Klaatu, the SF Christ-figure par excellence from The Day the Earth Stood Still (Naha, 1984, p. 260). Female Christ-figures As biblicist William R Telford (2000) noted: A surprising number of female characters could be regarded as Christ-figures: …Catholic nun, Sister Helen Prejean in Dead Man Walking (1995); Antonia of Antonia’s Line (1995); Leeloo, the female warrior who is revealed as the Supreme being in The Fifth Element (La Cinquieme Element) (1997); Ripley of Alien Resurrection (1997), who uses her own corrosive blood to open a hole in a window of the spaceship, through which the destructive alien is sucked, and, in a searing portrayal of sacrifice, Bess of Breaking the Waves (1996) who gives her own body promiscuously, in the belief that she can thus ‘save’ her paralysed husband (p. 35).

For Sister Peta Goldburg (2001), the fictional Sister Helen Prejean (Susan Saradon) in Dead Man Walking was an extremely profound Christ-figure because: For Poncelet [Sean Penn], she is the face of love, the face of Christ and the figure of Christ. In the final minutes of the film her journey parallels the journey of Jesus on the way to the cross. It begins in the toilet scene where she begs for strength to cope [the Garden of Gethsemane], she then walks with Poncelet to the place of execution, she participates in his suffering and his death and, like the good thief, Poncelet looks to her for consolation and receives it. For him her face becomes the face of Christ (p. 137).

However, for Father Peter Malone (1988), one of the most moving female Christ-figures was Agnes (Harriet Anderson) in Ingmar Bergman’s Cries and Whispers. Why? Because: She is seriously ill and has a harrowing death scene. Her death affects her proud and selfish sisters and her maid who, like an earth mother, cradles her corpse as a dead Christ in Pietafashion. The minister at her burial speaks of her in Christ terms. He then goes on to explain the significance of her life: “If it is so that you have gathered our suffering in your poor body, if it is so that you have borne it with you through death, if it is so that you meet God over there in the other land, if it is so that He turns His face towards you, if it is so that you speak the language that this God understands, if it is so that you can, then speak to this God. If it is so, pray for us… Pray for us who are left here on the dark, dirty earth under an empty and cruel Heaven. Lay your burden of suffering at God’s feet and ask Him to pardon us. Ask him to free us at last from our anxiety, our weariness and our deep doubt. Ask Him for a meaning to our lives, our weariness and our deep doubt. Ask Him for a meaning to our lives. Agnes, you who have suffered so unimaginably and so long, ‘you must be worthy to plead our cause’”.

This is Christ-figure symbolism at its best (p. 79).

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Animal Christ-figures Given the intrinsic nature of the phenomenon, it is not too surprisingly to find a few claims within the critical literature for animal Christ-figures. For example, Father Lloyd Baugh (1997, p. 191) considered that the donkey Balthazar, instead of Arnold the tramp, in Au Hasard, Balthazar, was “one of the most theologically-complex, biblically-verified, spiritually-moving and memorable Christ-figures in the history of the religious film.” Similarly, Robert Farrar Capon (2002, p. 45) argued that: “in all the Lassie stories the Christ figure is Lassie, the dog. The dog is the one who makes the plot get reconciled.” Father Peter Malone (1988, p. 82) argued that in Watership Down: “Hazel, the rabbit [voice of John Hurt] who leads a group to safety, not without struggle and suffering, is, of course, the savior-figure.” While director George Miller argued that the cute pig Babe (voice of Christine Cavanaugh) in Babe and its sequel Babe, Pig in the City was more of a Christfigure than “Mad” Max Rockatansky (Mel Gibson) from his Mad Max trilogy: I must say that Babe is much closer to a Christ figure than Max. Particularly in Babe (dir. Chris Noonan), he does change the established order. In fact, in Babe, Pig in the City, he’s much more a Christ figure because he turns the other cheek. He goes to save from drowning the one who was about to kill him. But in Babe, he relinquishes his self-interest in order to save Farmer Hoggett [James Cromwell] and to help fulfil the dream for Farmer Hoggett and to show that a pig can, indeed, be a champion sheepdog. He does it in part for himself but it’s mainly for the farmer. Yes, he’s closer to Christ – not that a pig should be Christ but he’s more Christ-like than Max! (Malone, 2001, p. 89).

Inanimate Christ-figures Temporarily overlooking the T-800 Terminator cyborg (Arnold Schwarzenegger) in Terminator 2: Judgment Day who was transformed into “the perfect postmodern Christ: technological genius incarnate and ready to die to smelt away the sins of technological man” (Larson, 1997, p. 65), theologian Robert Farrar Capon (2002, p. 57) argued that a Christ-figure need not be human-looking, biological or even living to qualify. Common inanimate objects would also do. For example, he claimed that in “Woody Allen’s film, September, the house, in which a totally dysfunctional family was brought to act functionally was the Christ figure.” Less sure of himself was John Ruane, the director of That Eye, the Sky. He constructed a yellow aura, the holy nimbus of traditional Christian iconography, around the top of his protagonist’s house to provide added spiritual resonance. As he mused: I suppose it’s a combination of the father’s soul, of hope, of faith… The guys who were the gaffers, who set the lights up, they called it ‘the mother light’; then they started calling it ‘the God light’. So they would say, ‘Bring God over here’, and they would bring this big light over the house. So, for me, it was a mixture of God and the father’s soul… (Malone, 2001, p. 101).

Of course, how far one can legitimately go before breaking the bounds of (in-)credulity is the crucial question in this field. There can be a very fine line between seeing and inventing Christ-figures. As William R Telford (2000, p. 35) noted: “They are, of course, very difficult to define. Like ghosts in the night or faces in the clouds, you can imagine that you are seeing them, when they are in fact not really there.”

Seeing What You Want To See: Christ-figure Fever? Amongst the faithful and the sympathetic, there has been a disturbing tendency to see Christ-figures in films where none truly existed, and so their interpretations were grossly distorted to conform to their (unwarranted) Christic expectations. For example, the nail that

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the renegade replicant Roy Batty (Rutger Hauer) impaled through his own hand in Blade Runner was seen by some as “an obvious crucifixion symbol” (Warner, 1991, p. 182; see also Palumbo, 1987, p. 223). Yet, Roy does so “in order to prolong his life, to defer his ‘time to die’. Roy is in this and every regard far from Christ-like... [this act and others] are allegorical shots severed from their mythological sources, empty allegories that cannot be redeemed by the Christian narrative” (Pyle, 2000, p. 126). However, it would be fairer to say that this film (and others) contains Christ-figure fragments, and is not a fully fleshed Christ cycle film (i.e., the Jesus events from cradle to grave, or more accurately, from heaven to heaven). Such a forced fate also occurred within Sam Raimi’s box office hit Spider-Man, the latest incarnation of Marvel’s 1960 comic book phenomenon. Director Raimi had replaced the typical Christ-figure with Spider-Man (Tobey Maguire) as an Everyman superhero, a pop culture saviour tangentially linked to the Superman mythos. Yet, many Christians desperately wanted to see the web-wonder as a Christ-figure, or at least a spiritualised Christian. For example, Pastor Mike Furches (2002, p. 1) from Cross Community Church (Wichita, Kansas) claimed that the film is “full of Spiritual references and significance. It is quite possible that Spider-Man is the most Spiritual of all super heroes and this movie adaptation helps prove it, what is even clearer is that his spirituality is rooted in Christianity.” Similarly, Pastor David Bruce (2002, p. 5) argued that: “Spider-Man in many ways is a retelling of the story of Superman which is a telling of the life of Jesus Christ.” However, Spider-Man is not a legitimate Christ-figure, whether directly conceived or indirectly reflected.

Some Potential Dangers, Prejudices and Responsibilities Religionist Linda Mercadante (2001, p. 1) was “often concerned that...students, in effect, “baptize” films that did not ask to be converted.” However, she was less concerned about interpretative errors than potentially harmful effects resulting from Christ-figure hunting. As she confessed regarding the blessed(?) or mentally unstable(?) Bess (Emily Watson) from Breaking the Waves: “I worry that when they do find a film with distinct Christic allusions, they may uncritically accept images that have been used to promote or justify destructive human behavior” (Mercadante, 2001, p. 1). Most notably, Bess’ repeated prostituting of herself with the local men in the spiritual(?) or psychotic(?) cause of her paralysed husband, Jan (Stellan Skarsgard), whom she believes will be cured as a result of her (God-sanctioned?) salacious deeds. Arnfriour Gudmundsottir (2002, p. 35) argued that the film “exemplifies what feminist theologians have justly labelled an abuse of the cross… This is a film about violence and abuse, which portrays a harmful misinterpretation of the cross of Christ.” Similar claims could also be made about the cop film Bad Lieutenant. A young nun (Frankie Thorn) was viciously gang raped by drug addicts in Spanish Harlem, and they used a crucifix to penetrate her while she lay upon the alter of the church. Yet, she automatically forgave the rapists and did not help the police who wanted to arrest them simply because she was willing to accept suffering and pain as a consequence of her belief in the Gospels. Is this truly Christic goodness or misguided foolishness? Director Abel Ferrara crafted her as a female Christ-figure exemplifying goodness, mercy and redemption accompanied by the obligatory pieta poses, Christ-like stances and multiple Jesus iconography (Hasenberg, 1998). But what sort of behavioural precedent was he actually setting? Avoiding such warped possibilities is another good reason why the profession

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should take more seriously the existence of Christ-figures, whether as religious discourse, cultural conditioning or values reorientation. On the other hand, one must also be concerned about preventing this field being used for religious education just because of it is pop culture origins. As Michael Ward (1999) wisely counselled: The Christian who wishes to engage with or contribute to his culture recognizes, along with the writer of Psalm 87, that all the springs of artistic expression are in Zion, for the Christian and the non-Christian alike. His special knowledge of the source of those springs must not blind him to its presence in pagan art, for God works there too, incognito. Just as Christ came into the world, not to condemn the world, but to save it, so the Christian must try to save the stories told in our culture. The Christian must take captive every story presented to him and allow it to be embraced by Christ’s greater story. He must listen before he responds. If the story is deficient he must say so, and sublimate it after the manner of Paul. Preachers must take such stories and make up the deficit in their sermons; reviewers must diagnose the narrative weaknesses; movie-goers must deter or warn in word-of-mouth recommendations. But if the story is sufficient, the Christian must admire it, give thanks for it, and worship the God whose story echoes within it, taking care not to deserve the rebuke that came to the Emmaus road disciples: “O foolish men, and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken!” (p. 217).

Just as importantly, as O’Keeffe and Waller (2003) argued: …the movie industry is certainly an intellectual challenge that we ignore at our peril. We must respond to the intellectual challenges of our day, regardless of how unlikely the source, if we are to equip the next … generations of believers to carry on the message of Jesus’ God. Not to do so cripples our students and hampers our efforts to foster religious and cultural literacy (p. 108).

Conclusion The cinematic Christ-figure is a legitimate, living genre whose future looks undiminished in the foreseeable future. Given that many people do not recognise biblical characters as easily as they once did, let alone their hidden subtextual manifestations, this deficiency is another good reason why popular films should be taught in traditional religion classes. (And also why religious themes should be pointed out in the secular pulpit of the cinema within film appreciation classes). In addition to the above-mentioned justifications, video exegesis and film-faith dialogue is another good way to reintroduce Western society to its own foundation myths, but this time in media garb more easily identifiable within this “Age of Hollywood” (Paglia, 1994, p. 12). Further research into the exciting interdisciplinary field of religion-and-film (aka cinematic theology, celluloid religion, theo-film, film-faith dialogue) and its greater pedagogic utilisation within religion studies is recommended, needed and certainly long overdue.

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BIBLIOGRAPHY Aitken, T 1999. Redeemers on Screen. The Tablet, 253(8277), 475-476, 478. Babington, B, & Evans, PW 1993. Biblical Epics: Sacred Narrative in the Hollywood cinema. Manchester: Manchester University Press. Baugh, L 1997. Imaging the Divine: Jesus and Christ-figures in Film. Kansas City: Sheed and Ward. Bruce, D 2002. Spider-Man (2002). , pp. 1-12. Brunstad, PO 2001. Jesus in Hollywood – The Cinematic Jesus in a Christological and Contemporary Perspective. Studia Theologica, 55, 145-156. Bywater, T, & Sobchack, T 1989. An Introduction to Film Criticism: Major Critical Approaches to Narrative Film. New York: Longman. Campbell, RH, & Pitts, MR 1981. The Bible on Film. A Checklist, 1897-1980. Metuchen, NJ: The Scarecrow Press. Capon, RF 2002. The Fingerprints of God: Tracking the Divine Suspect Through the History of Images. Consensus: A Canadian Lutheran Journal of Theology, 28(1), 45-63. Cunningham, J 2002. Black Jesus (1968).