Based on the Pulitzer-winning play penned by John Patrick Shanley, who also adapted the play into the screenplay for the film, Doubt is set in 1964 New York City. With the country still reeling from the assassination of President John F. Kennedy, the cultural upheaval of the Civil Rights Movement, and with the Catholic Church in the midst of Vatican II, the film capitalizes on a period filled with conflict and hope, doubt and certainty.

Sister Aloysius (Meryl Streep) is a nun and principal of St. Nicholas school in the Bronx. She is a cold, brooding character whom everyone fears and who rules the school with an iron fist. The antithesis of Sister Aloysius is Father Flynn (Philip Seymour Hoffman), a progressive priest who envisions a welcoming church whose congregants consider the nuns and priests of their local parish as members of their families. Caught between them is the meek, naive, blank slate of a nun, Sister James (Amy Adams). Sister James vacillates between the friendly, lovable disposition of Father Flynn and the dragon-like character of Sister Aloysius. The situation becomes more complicated when Sister James notices some peculiar actions of Donald Miller, the school’s only African American student, and Father Flynn. She alerts Sister Aloysius to the goings-on and Sister Aloysius becomes convinced of impropriety between the Father and the student and begins an intense campaign to oust the priest from the school and the parish.

Probably due to the hardships in translating a work from the stage to the screen, the biggest shortfall of the film is that it is a talking-head movie. The film is entirely dependent on dialogue and the facial expressions of the characters. However, this deficiency is largely overcome by the absolutely remarkable acting of the four main actors, all of whom deservedly received Oscar nominations. Another disappointment was the quite heavy-handed symbolism thrust upon the audience. Cats catching mice, windows that keep cracking open, light bulbs bursting during heated moments of dialogue, thunder and lightning strikes–all of these manipulate the audience’s perception of what is going on in an almost insulting way, as opposed to letting the audience figure things out for themselves.

The film’s subject matter and themes, however, are strong enough to overcome the small number of shortcomings, particularly on a second viewing. Of course the main theme is the complexity of certainty and doubt. This much is evident from the opening moments of the film in which Father Flynn attempts to bring hope to his troubled congregation in telling them, “Doubt can be a bond as powerful and sustaining as certainty. When you are lost, you are not alone.” For Father Flynn there is a place for doubt as it encourages community and fellowship in the doubting one reaching out to his neighbors for help and encouragement. Doubt is something universal to the human condition and should not be feared or shied away from. At the same time, there must be a realization that absolute certainty about everything is unattainable, and some things must be left to mystery. Sister Aloysius represents the opposite view. For her, doubt is a weakness that has no place in one’s life. Certainty is a virtue and one cannot waver from it no matter how much evidence may be stacked against such certainty or how much evidence may be lacking to support such certainty. Once the mind is made up, that is the final word on the issue at hand.

Though many threads can be pulled out of this one theme alone, I want to focus on just one. The original subtitle for the film was “A Parable,” and it seems that the film is a parable about faith. What is faith? Is it blind stubbornness? Is it a fluid character where doubt and certainty are on such equal footing that one’s faith may depend on the particular community they are in at the time? Is it something in between these two positions? That, in this author’s opinion, is the central question of the film, and the answer seems to be that faith is something in between. It is the way of Sister James, mediating between the two positions. Sister James observes, seeks evidence, and weighs her experience in seeking the truth. The answer may seem overly rationalistic, but the filmmakers counter this by showing the danger of living without such a mediating presence, and that danger is obdurate overbearance.

In a word, Doubt is a commentary on the struggle between the modern and the postmodern, but the fascinating thing about the film is its call to live in the tension between these two forces. Though not a perfect film, Doubt is quite intriguing and is sure to provide much opportunity for discussion and contemplation.

Now, let's be honest.  Watchmen is not a film for everyone.  There will be those who love it and those who hate it; few will be in-betweeners.  Those unfamiliar with the source material will most likely be confused.  Those familiar with the source material are destined to forever debate the success or failure of the film among the small alcoves of retaildom in which few ever step foot: comic book stores.

For those in the former category, a primer might be of some use.  Watchmen immerses us in an alternate 1985 in which the United States has seen victory in Vietnam and the election of Richard Nixon to an unprecedented fifth term as President.  However, much like the real 1985, the United States is embattled in an extremely tense Cold War with the Soviet Union, and time is quickly ticking down to nuclear holocaust between the two superpowers.  Crucial to all of this is the existence of a small band of vigilante crimefighters, originally tagged The Minutemen.  The Minutemen evolve into a later iteration, deemed The Watchmen, until the Keene Act is passed, prohibiting vigilante crimefighting. 

As the film opens, one of the original Minutemen, Edward Blake, also known as The Comedian (Jeffrey Dean Morgan), is murdered.  Rorschach (Jackie Earle Haley), a former Watchman, begins investigating and uncovers a conspiracy to eliminate other "masks," causing the other team members to come out of retirement.  What follows is a whirlwind experience that is stylized, violent, and sexy.

Snyder does a remarkable job transferring the look and feel of the graphic novel to the big screen.  Unlike most book-to-film adaptations, Snyder had the distinct advantage of working with a source in which the world is right there before you, rather than left to the imagination of the reader.  However, this can also be a disadvantage, as success or failure is based on getting it "right."  Snyder, an obvious fan of the source material, succeeds on this account.  The art direction, costumes, and cinematography are all visually stunning, faithful representations of the graphic novel.  Fanboys and fangirls will certainly applaud the director in that area.  

The story, however, is a bit trickier.  Watchmen the graphic novel is a dark, complex, brooding tale that has as many layers as it does characters.  Not only is the story deeply complex, but its characters are also some of the most complex characters in literature.  Snyder's task in translating such an intricately woven tale and cast of characters to the silver screen seems insurmountable, and his efforts bring mixed results.

Snyder appears to have put a lot of work into the development of Rorschach, arguably the most complex character of the lot.  Here, there is some success.  Jackie Earle Haley's performance accurately conveys the lonely, disillusioned, stick-to-his-principles-at-all-costs character from the novel.  Haley's is the brightest piece of acting in the film, and Rorschach the brightest attempt at character development by the director.

Another bright spot is the portrayal of Dr. Manhattan (Billy Crudup).  Though this is a superhero film, the only character with superpowers is Dr. Manhattan, the tragic victim of a physics experiment gone wrong, which transforms him into something beyond human that can manipulate the environment around him in any way he likes.  Crudup does a fine job bringing to life a Dr. Manhattan that grows ever more distant from humanity, retreating into himself and away from the turbulent world that humans have created for themselves.

The other performances, sadly, fall much flatter.  The biggest disappointment is Adrian Veidt, aka Ozymandias (Matthew Goode).  In the film, there is little to no development of this character, which is strange considering he's a pretty big deal in the overall plotline.  Another disappointment is Laurie Jupiter, aka Silk Spectre II (Malin Akerman), who gives a flighty, clueless, emotionally weak version of the character from the novel.  Granted, some of this may be due to the writing, but decent actors can often overcome less-than-stellar writing.  Unfortunately for much of the cast of this film, that just doesn't happen.

As far as the story itself goes, the self-conscious attempt of the director to remain as faithful to the source material as possible may have hindered him a bit.  Snyder manages to hit most of the biggest plot elements, though even at just under three hours, it seems a bit rushed.  The flashback scenes are handled well, and Snyder brilliantly weaves in the songs that have cameos in the graphic novel.  But the multi-layered, multi-faceted tale that those familiar with the source material know and love just isn't there. Much of this has to do with what was left out (though understandably so with time constraints), including the highly important sub-story, Tales of the Black Freighter.

Instead, what the audience gets is a stylized, effects-driven comic book movie that will leave most wondering what they just sat through for three hours, and why they should have cared in the first place.  

Is Watchmen unfilmable?   Though Snyder put up a valiant attempt and got many things "right," the film lacks the depth and profundity of the revolutionary graphic novel.  So while there may not be a definitive "yes" to that question, it certainly appears that way at the moment.

as far as the awards go, there weren’t really any surprises. i wish some had gone another way, but fully expected them to play out as they did. Slumdog was definitely the darling of the night, and it was fun to watch how excited everyone was each time they were called out as winners. but i still don’t think it was the best movie of the year, or even in that category. i’m also glad that Kate won. she deserved it for her career, even if i don’t think she deserved it for that particular role.

next year should be interesting, especially if Watchmen is as good as everyone is anticipating it to be. maybe a comic book, superhero film will finally break into Best Picture territory.

Documentary Feature
Man on Wire - this was the only film nominated in this category that i saw, but i really can’t imagine any of the other nominations being better than this one. it was beautiful, it was intriguing, it was suspenseful, and the sheer audacity of what the subjects were able to accomplish is simply mind boggling. the thing i loved most about this film was the way in which the story was told. it felt as if you were watching some elaborate bank heist, and it really drew you into the story and connected the audience with the characters. plus the “man on wire” was such an enormous character, that his retelling of the events almost make the movie simply in itself.

Foreign Language Film
Waltz with Bashir - again, this was the only film i saw from this category, but i really loved the animation as well as the journey that i was taken on as the main character tried to remember his involvement in the Israeli-Lebanese war.

Animated Short
Presto - without a doubt the best Pixar short yet. no other animated features or shorts can come close to what Pixar puts out.

Animated Feature
Wall-E - definitely in my top 5 films of 2008. it’s a shame that this category was added because i believe Wall-E should have received more serious consideration for Best Picture than it probably got. but this category pretty much guarantees that no animated feature, no matter how brilliant, will ever be nominated for the big prize again.

Original Song
“Down to Earth” - dear Academy, please let Peter Gabriel win. if this happens this will somewhat make up for your extreme oversight in not nominating The Boss and the best song he’s come out with in quite a very long time. two songs from Slumdog??? COME ON!!

Original Screenplay
Wall-E - this film should win everything it’s nominated for. again, it was one of the best movies of 2008. the story was brilliant. the execution was brilliant. the fact that so much emotion could be communicated through two robots is simply a marvel in storytelling.

Supporting Actress
Amy Adams - i thought she was brilliant in this film, and the tension between which superior to emulate was a fine piece of acting.

Supporting Actor
Heath Ledger - is there any doubt that he’s going to get this award? although, it’s too bad that Robert Downey’s performance in Tropic Thunder had to come in the same year as Ledger’s Joker. he would have been my favorite in any other year.

Actress
Meryl Streep - while it wasn’t my favorite film of the year (probably not even in my top 5, possibly in my top 10), the acting in Doubt was pretty inspired. Meryl was fabulous.

Actor
Mickey Rourke - i really, really want Mickey Rourke to get this award. i LOVED The Wrestler and believe it is another underrated and overlooked movie this year. i would not be too disappointed if Sean Penn wins.

Director
Danny Boyle - this was kind of a tough one. there’s a bunch of hype around Slumdog, and i just don’t get it. but of the films nominated, i thought Boyle’s directing and storytelling was pretty great.

Best Picture
Milk - this was also a really difficult category for me. i was not too thrilled with the nominations. i know the favorite is Slumdog, but i really do not want that film to win. it was an ok movie, but i wouldn’t have put it in my top 5. of the two Kate movies, i’m surprised that The Reader was nominated. of the two, i thought Revolutionary Road was much better, and definitely thought Kate’s performance in the latter was better than in the former (maybe Ricky Gervais was onto something). Benjamin Button should absolutely not be in this category. i didn’t get a chance to see Frost/Nixon, and so that leaves Milk. i actually thought Milk was very good and was once again impressed by how Sean Penn immersed himself in his character. not my favorite film of the year, but definitely my favorite of the nominated films in this category.

so those are my predictions. we’ll see how it goes…

eight. out of eighty of the best selling books in the country, i had previously heard of eight, one of which is the subject of this post. i am clearly not in the loop. my point is that i don’t often read books that i know nothing about. before reading the first page of the book, i knew next to nothing about The Road. i knew the author wrote No Country for Old Men, which i haven’t read but i have seen the film. i knew the book had won the Pulitzer Prize, only because the front of the book told me so. that was it.

(i didn’t even know that it was an Oprah book until i was half-way through the book and someone i was talking to said she read it because it made Oprah’s book club; thankfully, i do not have a copy with the Oprah seal of approval on it, although some might argue that being selected by Oprah is better and more prestigious than winning the Pulitzer)

now i’m finished with the book…and i don’t really know what to say. i don’t think this is the kind of book that anyone could actually love. and by that i mean the kind of book, the old favorite, that you pick up and read when you’re down, or the book that is the go-to, default book when you can’t decide on what to read next and want to read something you’ve read before to re-experience the joy of reading it. this is a hard book. a gritty book.

but it’s also a beautiful book. hauntingly beautiful. it’s the story of a father and son and their journey down “the road” in a post-apocalyptic world. it’s never clear where they’re going, or what they hope or expect to find. what is clear is that they cannot linger in one place too long, or travel too long out in the open, since what’s left of humanity has devolved into an animalistc fight for survival in a world with nothing left to survive on.

what’s beautiful about the book is the language used. Cormac McCarthy is not a traditional writer. his style took me a while to get used to, and the wide disregard for correct punctuation annoyed the daylight out of me, but he is a brilliant writer. he masterfully paints the scene, dark and gray as they are, in such a way that you almost wish you were there. of course, only to be reminded of the stark reality facing the characters in the book and the immense ugliness of what the world has become.

in addition to the language, the two main characters, the father and son, are beautiful characters. the depth of relationship, the purity of love, the self-sacrificing character of both–rarely do you come across such deeply moving and inspiring characters who are otherwise grossly underdeveloped. i haven’t read any reviews on this book, but i imagine that most of the reviews that are out there focus on this relationship. i imagine they speak of the child being the only thing that keeps the father going and acting as a sort of conscience for the father, the one bright ray of hope and peace in a world that no longer knows anything of hope and peace. and surely they’d be justified in focusing on that.

for me, though, the genius of the book is the author himself. his juxtaposition of the ugly and grotesque with the stunning and arresting words in which he uses to describe it. his ability to begin a story in the middle of a journey and end the story with the journey unfinished, and that be okay and perfect. it’s an amazing book in so many ways and i suppose that’s what led it to win a Pulitzer.

but it’s still a very hard book and not one that everyone will like, and not one that everyone should read (which makes it all the more interesting to me that Oprah would choose a book like this). if you do decide to read it, don’t make the same mistake i did and read it right before going to bed. but it is a very good book and one that i am really glad to have read.

but the thing i loved most about the movie was what it had to say. i usually don’t expect big summer blockbuster superhero films to be message films, but this one definitely was. i found it to be a profound, clear cry out for the gospel by a dark world, a world, as the posters say, without rules.

now, with that said, i’ve been a bit confused at some Christians’ responses to the film. a post from a prominent blog had this to say, “In fact, it comes down to a lie of human idealization being passed off on the public because they’re supposed to be better off thinking the lie. That violates everything I believe. I learned nothing. I was not enriched in any way.”

in praise of this particular post, an even more prominent blog had this to say, “But when we are supposedly deeply moved by something that, at its core, isn’t deeply moving, isn’t redemptive, isn’t part of the grand story, but is just a vast, pretentious, technologically overwhelming retelling of the worst kind of human story, I want to have the backbone to say so.”

both of these posts point to a gigantic problem in Christian circles. that problem is the failure of the church to seriously, honestly, and redemptively engage with what the wider culture is producing and telling us. if i’m allowed to broad-brush a little bit, when it comes to art (visual art, music, film, whatever), Christians would rather have Thomas Kinkade than Jackson Pollock. FFH rather than Bob Dylan. Facing the Giants rather than The Dark Knight. why? because, despite being patently bad and vacuous art, all the former examples are neat, tidy, and safe. they’re comforting. they’re unchallenging. they don’t cause us to face the fact that we live in a deeply complex world. a messy world. a fallen world.

that is not the case with The Dark Knight, or any of the above latter examples. quite appropriately, The Dark Knight is dark. it’s menacing. it’s uncomfortable. it shows us the depth of human depravity by portraying a city living in absolute fear. fear of unpredictable violence. fear of unpredictable death.

but there is hope. a caped crusader keeps watch over the city at night, protecting its citizens from a madman with no moral standards. a madman who has capitalized on the city’s fear and turned the city against itself. this crusader sacrifices everything for the good of others. time and time again he is tested by the madman. tested, seemingly beyond human limits, to break his one rule. to fall and become like the madman himself. but the crusader holds firm. despite all he has sacrificed, despite all that has been taken away from him, he does not fall. he is the true hero. he is the true hope.

but the people place their faith in another. the great white hope for the city is a bright, ambitious district attorney. a virtuous man who promises to rid the city of violence, restoring peace and tranquility to its streets. however, he too faces loss and testing. but unlike the caped crusader, this district attorney, the one the people have put their trust, faith, and hope in, falls. he becomes a madman himself. a cold murderer with no other conscience than the arbitrary flip of a coin. he represents the stark reality of what happens when we place our faith in another mere human. when we don’t look outside of ourselves to something bigger.

and that’s what Batman represents. Batman is bigger than humanity. he is outside humanity. he is the only one that can bring true peace, true hope to Gotham City. but the people will not recognize their need of him. instead they look to elsewhere for their salvation. how true is this of all of us? how many other places do we look, whether to entertainment, money, dare i say…politicians…to provide for us the hope and comfort that we so deeply long for? all the while looking past the one thing that can provide us sure hope, sure peace, sure salvation: faith in Christ.

and so Batman is a sort of Christ-figure for the city of Gotham. or, you could say that Christ is a sort of “dark knight” in this fallen world. the people do not recognize their need for him, and so they turn elsewhere for their hope. when the one they’ve placed their hope in fails and proves himself to be just another sinner in need of grace, Batman takes upon himself the sins of the young district attorney. why? because, as Commissioner Gordon says, “he can take it.” that is his role. he will be reviled, hunted, scorned, murdered in the hearts of all the citizens of Gotham until they recognize how deeply they need him. how hopeless their situation is without him. until they come to a point where they realize that it was him all along who was protecting them. who was taking away the darkness. and in that day they will repent of their hatred toward him and embrace him as the only one that can bring them true peace and true hope.

i said at the beginning that the film wasn’t a perfect one. there is a great monologue at the end by Commissioner Gordon that i absolutely love. however, it’s ever so slightly off. Gordon says of Batman, “he’s the hero we deserve, but not the hero we need right now.” i say “off,” because Batman is the hero that Gotham needs, though they don’t know it. the hero they deserve, that all of us deserve, is Harvey Dent, the fallen district attorney. we don’t deserve Batman. we don’t deserve the hope, the grace, the redemption that Batman represents to “a world without rules.” yet it is freely, unconditionally offered to us. however, we remain blind to it until our eyes are opened and we see past the felt needs and false hopes of anti-Batmans and anti-Christs, only to see the true need of God’s grace and mercy and salvation, the only means of true hope and peace in this world.

to “learn nothing,” to not be “enriched in any way,” to see The Dark Knight as unmoving and non-redemptive, is a failure to deeply engage with one of the loudest cries for the gospel that hollywood has produced.

perhaps there is no better return to blogging than an experience that really gets your juices flowing, for good or bad. this definitely happened with me as i sat in the theater watching the latest film adaptation of C.S. Lewis’s masterpiece, The Chronicles of Narnia. the film in question is the second installment of the franchise and is based on the book Prince Caspian (PC hereafter).

let me start by saying that PC the book is my least favorite of the Narnia series. i can’t exactly pinpoint why, i just don’t enjoy it near as much as i do the other six books. that’s not to say, however, that there aren’t some really great moments in the book, and of course it is here that we first meet my favorite character in the series, Reepicheep. so because it’s my least favorite, if there was any film where much could be changed without my really caring, it would be PC. this of course being under the assumption that an attempt would be made to preserve the underlying message and intent of the author in such a film.

sadly, however, what was done by the filmmakers to this book is, frankly, atrocious. the narrative of the film is largely unrecognizable to someone familiar with the book. so much has been changed, so much has been added, and the message and intent has been completely removed that it’s a wonder that this film can even be called “Prince Caspian.”

putting what was done to the actual story aside for a moment, the film, as a piece of art, is also horrific. the film is basically a Michael Bay version of PC (and i say that as a fan of Michael Bay films) where cheap thrills and violence are the order of the day, and the story is a secondary matter, almost an afterthought. the effects in the film, though better than those of the previous film, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe are not very well done and the film seems to be a pretty poor, cheap ripoff of the Lord of the Rings films, especially in the first ten to twenty minutes of the film.

with the exception of a few bright spots, the actor who plays King Miraz in particular, the acting is pretty painful. two of the children, Lucy and Edmund, are alright, but Susan and Peter are just awful. much of the dialogue is awkward and stilted and there just doesn’t seem to be much chemistry between them. it almost appears as if they don’t want to be there. Liam Neeson, much more in this film, is unconvincing as Aslan (more stilted dialogue here), and perhaps the biggest disappointment of all was the noble mouse Reepicheep. i was skeptical on Eddie Izzard providing the voice, and for me it just didn’t work at all. of course this might of had to do with more stilted dialogue. i mean it literally sounded to me that when Reepicheep spoke there was someone pushing play on a tape recorder and then pushing stop when the line was finished. that’s how awkward and disjointed the dialogue was.

so as a piece of art on its own, the film, while mildly entertaining, is just not very good.

many people around the web have commented on and detailed the points at which the film strays from the book, so i won’t take the time to do so here. if you want to know, it’s not that hard to find. the changes, as i said before, are so numerous that it’s a wonder that this film can even be called Prince Caspian. it’s also a wonder that Douglas Gresham, Lewis’s step-son, allowed such a raping (in my opinion) of this story to take place.

i actually wasn’t that surprised at the changes in themselves, but i thought enough of a vestige of the book and the author’s intent would remain untouched. however, if the filmmakers couldn’t get the conversation in the Beavers’ house right in the first film, i don’t know why i expected the more profound parts of this book to be handled with care and delivered faithfully (how you can mess up that great line of Aslan’s, “every year you grow, you will find me bigger” is just beyond me; “as you grow, so do i,” the line in the film, means nothing even in the same vain as what Lewis intended. ugh!)

i will mention one specific change, however, that i actually thought was an interesting and good one. many people are incensed at the invented romance between Susan and Caspian that the film portrays, saying that Lewis would never have approved of such a change. they may be right, but i think the change is actually in keeping with what Lewis tells us of Susan’s later life. the kiss she plants on Caspian, that so many are outraged over, shows the beginning of Susan’s pursuit of worldly things. in The Last Battle we are told that Susan is no longer a friend of Narnia and that all she cares about are “nylons, lipstick, and invitations.” so concerned with becoming an adult, Susan rejects the childlike wonder of Narnia in pursuit vain worldliness. her romantic interest and bold kiss in the film gives us an idea of where Susan is going, especially since this will be the last we see of her (assuming the filmmakers remain mostly true to the story for the remainder of the films, something that seems much more in doubt after this latest chapter). so i actually like that change and think it suits Lewis’s intent pretty well.

overall, though, i really did not like this film and i would have no problem with it being the last adaptation from the Narnia books. i shudder to think what the filmmakers will do with The Voyage of the Dawn Treader and The Last Battle.

however, having finished the second book, i am less enthusiastic about the story as a whole. where The Golden Compass is fresh and unpredictable, The Subtle Knife suffers from many bouts of sluggishness and complete predictability. most of the way through the book it felt as if reading this part of the story was merely a means to an end, a necessary slow point that has to set up what’s to come in final book. perhaps that’s why this second part of the story is the shortest of the three? whatever the reason, The Subtle Knife was not nearly as enjoyable as The Golden Compass.

(if you don’t want to be spoiled, read no further)

this book, naturally, picks up where the first one left off and introduces a new character straight away. young Will, a murderer on the run, finds an open window into another world and soon runs into Lyra who has found herself in the same “another world” while trying to catch up with her father, Lord Asriel. the two children are virtually inseparable from that point on and find themselves, as children are wont to do, in a number of precarious situations and adventures. the point of this part of the story does not come clear until a little over halfway through the book, where the children are charged with the task of recovering a mysterious knife in exchange for Lyra’s stolen alethiometer. come to find out, this “subtle knife,” as it’s called is the instrument responsible for releasing Dust (which, if you’re unfamiliar with its significance to the story, you can read the post mentioned above on The Golden Compass), and is pretty much the sharpest two-edged blade in all the untold numbers of universes of Pullman’s story. this knife has the ability to cut windows leading from one world to another and even possesses the power, at least in theory, to be the one instrument that can destroy the Authority, or God.

and that’s…..it. it takes nearly 250 pages for that to be accomplished, but, again, we don’t even find out about the knife until over halfway through those 250 pages. there’s action and intrigue in the book, to be sure, but it’s just not very compelling. characters are introduced and then forgotten about, the story meanders and drags, a lot of the dialogue, particularly in regards to the church, is extremely forced, and, as i said earlier, pretty much everything that happens is painfully predictable.

i was also surprised that there wasn’t much that furthered Pullman’s atheist agenda in this book. there was some stuff to be sure, but most of it was just rehashing what was said in the first book. it’s definitely becoming more and more clear that Pullman’s main contention with Christianity is his perceived suppression of what is good and enjoyable. one of Pullman’s characters, early in the book, states, “it’s tried to suppress and control every natural impulse….That is what the Church does, and every church is the same: control, destroy, obliterate every good feeling” (336). along the same lines, later in the book, the same character goes on a similar rant, this time directed at God, or the Authority, in which she claims that he set up this religion as a means “to destroy the joys and truthfulness of life” (496).

i find these two statements both fascinating and ridiculous at the same time. fascinating because i’m always interested in the self-made reasons that people use to justify their atheism. ridiculous because this argument makes no rational or logical (paramounts of atheism) sense whatsoever. it must be kept in mind that Pullman is actually attacking Christianity in the real world through these fictional stories. so then it is reasonable to transfer the arguments of his characters to the author.

so, recapping, Pullman’s entire argument against the Christian God, so far, has been that God is a big meanie who tells people not to do the things that seem “natural” and “good” and “joyful” to them. putting aside the complete untruth of this for the time being, one’s first question should be, “well where does the definition of what is ‘good,’ etc. come from? what is the standard of such?” for the atheist, authority begins and ends with an individual’s mind. “natural impulses,” as Pullman describes them in his book, are good, and right, and true, and must be pursued. but this makes no sense, does it? what if i had a “natural impulse” to murder Philip Pullman? must i act on that? God and Christianity tell me that such actions and feelings are wrong and sinful, so, following Pullman’s argument, those actions must be good and joyful! Pullman may then say that those actions are not “natural impulses,” but he would be unable to prove such a statement, especially when it is the individual’s mind that becomes one’s ultimate authority. of course this devolves into abject relativism, and the practical result would end in utter chaos.

there are other things that could be said about a few other anti-Christian statements in this book, but it seems to me that it would be a waste of time to do so. Pullman’s arguments are not well-made and most of them are simply straw men that are easily blown over and dismissed. it’s always amusing to me when atheists get angry about Christians trying to force their beliefs on others, when that’s exactly what Pullman is attempting to achieve in this series of books. less funny is the fact that he is attempting to do so under the guise of children’s books. but that’s a different post for a different day.

in addition to later raising a pint, i am celebrating by watching the three extended editions of The Lord of the Rings films in succession (something i’ve never done before and am excited about) as well as breaking in the new pipe that i got for Christmas.

“the professor!”