donamajicshow

I’ve decided to explore just a wee bit further some of the brazen reviews/comments that have been made about this film, most of which have revealed a remarkable pattern among the religious right, who slam the film, and the secular left, who praise it. One religious-conservative blogger called it “a tale that entirely perverts the nature of God,” another wished that it “should have come as close as possible to the actual written story.” Glenn Beck went as far to call the story “anti-human, and I mean strongly anti-human.” Then there’s the moderate left drawing the conclusion that for a fallen, cynical world “Christians should appreciate [this film for its] positive portrayal of the concept of spirituality.” Other leftists say that it “takes Genesis seriously as a text worth reading carefully and thinking about deeply in its own right.”

What is happening here?

Is this just another case of rigid posture reacting against a book-to-film adaptation, one that wildly dismisses fan expectations and opts for its own self-indulgent interpretation? Or does Aronofsky somehow, informed by his own culturally Jewish childhood, seem familiar enough with the spirit of this story to perform his own midrashic retelling?

This is a film, I believe, that does not allow the religious orthodox to default moral responsibility to an ancient book; but it also does not serve an anti-religious agenda bent on removing a higher power from our existence. It very much reflects its own tension found in our current culture wars: How do we interpret the signs around us that point and give meaning to our lives? As the Internet has been replete to show, some will be prone to strict interpretation, others loose, while others still radical but often less understood will transcend the signs.

Glenn Beck may ironically have a point (despite his not seeing the film) in calling this film “anti-human” in that it does not support wasted living as a summit for human flourishing, though it cannot be denied that the importance of children and families in this film acts as the most divine sign, even if revealed to its characters painfully piecemeal. As one reviewer put it, “This film insists on the importance of having children…there must be families.”

It takes a while for Noah to receive this revelation. Through this very powerful concept of not immediately grasping his Maker’s plan, but trusting that it will reveal purpose in time, Aronofsky’s portrayal of a prophet receives the gravitas needed to dispel the mistaken belief that prophets are somehow immune to the pain, growth, burden and responsibility of making moral choices. Revelation via celestial telephone, in other words, is not a belief supported in this film.

Aronofsky does not offer us cartoonish, Sunday school comfort, but challenges us to dig deeper into the spirit of the scriptures. Sure, the Noah depicted in the bible does not try to unflinchingly murder his family in order to fulfill the will of God, but does not the spirit of this Abrahamic obedience ring true to other biblical accounts perhaps not so cut and dry? The dangers of religion are revealed in these moments, again showing how religion cannot be exonerated completely if it is to be fulfilled faithfully.

The truths about this film are manifold, but one in particular is to not buy into the literalist trap of refusing to see beyond the signs to which the signs themselves point. It is inherently Jewish (by which I mean biblically stubborn) to get stuck up on the external forms of this film, as manifest in the reviews I’ve read that cannot seem to grasp the power of myth, nuance, and expressionism. We are missing the point, in other words, if our discourse does not move beyond rock monsters, paired animals, and environmentalist rhetoric.

For a film written and directed by a self-proclaimed atheist, calling it “the least biblical film ever made,” he’s probably right. This isn’t a biblical film—it doesn’t conform to most, if at all any, of the biblical trappings impaired on its meaning since the crucifixion of Christ. It doesn’t pretend to have all of the answers to life’s greatest questions and values. It doesn’t bask in its certainty but trusts in its ambiguity. The divine will speak to us in ways we can understand, even if we err along the way. And through err, forgiveness. Through err, repentance. New beginnings. Rainbows and flowers—signs of rebirth and renewal, chances to get things right. This all sounds sentimentally boorish and trite, though rarely earned or realized in the wake of a corrupt and fallen world.