Review
Title: Mormonism and the Movies
Editor: Chris Wei
Publisher: By Common Consent Press
Genre: Arts/Essays
Year Published: 2021
Number of Pages: 328 pages
Binding: Paper
ISBN: 9781948218467
Price: 14.95
Reviewed by Dan Call for the Association of Mormon Letters
A pointless game that I often play with friends at church is to talk about what our dream calling would be, and explain why we would be so well suited to serve in it. About half a decade ago, I settled in on “Ward Film Critic” as mine, and although I always get a few laughs and I’ve never entertained it as a serious calling, Mormonism and the Movies persuades me that the idea isn’t as outlandish as I think. Edited by Chris Wei, Mormonism and the Movies, is the second book in the By Common Consent Press series “Essays in Mormon Studies.” This book brings together nineteen essays by thirteen authors and seeks to “explore how Latter-day Saint theology, culture, and history interact with thematic, narrative, and aesthetic ideas in film” (xi).
Far from asceticism, I’ve long felt that LDS theology is tailor-made for engagement with all aspects of the human experience, and since we’ve had the technology to make and watch movies, they have played an ever-larger part in our lives. It would be so easy at any moment in this review to drift into a memoir about the relationship between my membership in the LDS church and the role that movies have played in every part of my life. Many times over the years I have recognized that these two strands of my lived experiences have intersected, and Mormonism and the Movies took me on a tour through a legion of perspectives that aim to help us begin to make sense of it all.
Take, for instance, our attitudes toward movies with an R-rating. While growing up in Tooele, Utah, this issue seemed so cut and dry since the only connection I had with movies was through the Ritz Movie theater, the single video rental store in the entire valley, or the occasional edited-for-content showing on TV. Derrick Clements contributes the chapter “Rated ‘R’ Movies and the Nature of Moral Authority,” which unpacks the origins of our discourse around R-rated films while also exploring his personal relationship with them. His narrative resonates at the same time that it builds on previous chapters by Brooke Parker (“Mormonism and the Edited Movie Industry”) and Nigel Goodwin (“Choosing Substance Over Content”), and the overall effect gives the impression of a having participated in a panel discussion that by all means leaves us with a more well-rounded idea of how practicing disciples might watch and process film as part of our mortal learning. The easy solution would be to have copy and paste answers about what is right for everyone, to outsource our agency to the MPAA Ratings Board (as I have been inclined to do in the past), but the case is made in these chapters that this denies us the opportunity to engage in part of the work of both being mortal, learning to discern, and gathering truth.
Conor Hilton’s chapter “Jesus, Where’s the Joy?” discusses something which will feel familiar to anyone who has watched a film representation of Jesus, but which we rarely take the time to problematize: “there seems to be very little joy in the depictions of Christ” (p. 24). While this blindspot should be of interest to all Christians, Mormons should take special note since joy is featured so prominently in our scriptures, theology, and messaging to the world. Hilton takes us on a survey of films that portray Jesus, noting that, in the aggregate, the message seems to be that to live like Christ means to be serious and solemn, with only occasional (if any) moments of laughter and levity. We are challenged to think about how these interpretations are working on our psyche and how they compel us to worship God. Not wanting to leave us on a note of un-joy, Hilton ends by pointing us toward a reading of familiar scripture as divine humor that is begging for depiction on film.
Karli Hall’s contribution, “Mormons and Acting: A Spiritual Endeavor,” pushes us to see the craft of acting as a profoundly empathic undertaking. In order to realistically play a character, she argues, we have to lovingly approach them to understand their life and circumstances. This moves us into a more Christlike space when we have the opportunity to portray someone whom we would identify as a sinner: to make a believable, authentic performance, the actor must approach the role with respect and care, confident that the character’s life can be interpreted with grace. Whether we, the audience ultimately find the characters’ actions acceptable or not, to inhabit the character at all can become an act of love. This perspective struck a deeply personal note with me: the few experiences I’ve had with acting all hold special places in my heart. I feel a sense of connection with each character I’ve ever played, as well as gratitude for what I’ve learned from them. If we are commanded to love our enemies, and acting is a valid path to generating that love, this suggests that churchwide participation in quality acting experiences could play a formidable role in helping us to live our covenants.
As a longtime devotee of Groundhog Day, I found Adam Miller’s meditation on it worthy of multiple reads. His writing style slows down our thinking, moving us into a mindset that approaches what Phill Connor might have been going through by the end of the movie: not just resigned to the present, but grateful for it and receiving it in its fullness.
All of Chris Wei’s chapters throughout this book are memorable, but his “Three Approaches to Crisis” truly feels worthy of large-scale attention since it addresses a trauma that many are experiencing throughout the church: how to manage a faith crisis. As he describes the titular three approaches (which will feel familiar to any practitioner of faith who is being honest), he takes us through reflections on what film has to offer, followed by the teachings of leaders and thinkers from the Mormon tradition. The quotes, some of which are familiar and others which were new to me, pair quite well with the movies and give the impression that movies have the potential to be so much more than mere escapism if we choose to engage with them as such.
At so many points in Mormonism and the Movies, I found myself reflecting extensively about how much of my church experience has overlapped with movies. My earliest memories of social activities at church included watching movies (a Primary Christmas party that screened Christopher Reeves’ “Superman” on a TV on a rolling cart, while we licked our candy canes into needle-sharp points that we jabbed at one another). Whenever we got together with family friends from church, whether at their home or ours, the visit wasn’t complete without a movie viewing of some sort (usually from a pirated VHS tape). Even though I didn’t count it as watching a movie, there was something theatrical about sitting in a darkened chapel lit only by a massive CRT projector as we watched General Conference or some other special broadcast. I bet that most of us could make similar connections, gaining some clarity on the facts that spirituality is not as separate from technology and entertainment as we might be inclined to think.