First Impressions, Second Chances, and the Artistry of Cliches

For some strange reason, my wife was not too keen to see the movie _Second Chance_, after she heard an advertised comment by Michael W. Smith saying something (to the effect) that if the movie failed to move you, it was because your heart was hardened. My wife perceived alternative possibilities, such as that the movie was just plain bad. Smith's message also seemed to contradict the apparent thrust of the film--at the very least, Smith could have said something like, "If the movie fails to move you the first time, I am hoping that God has not abandoned you to your wickedness, and He's giving you a second chance--to buy another ticket."

So, on Friday night, my wife and I went to see _Pride and Prejudice_, which is decidely not the movie _Second Chance_. There was a little bit more estrogen involved (in the film and in the theater) than I am normally comfortable with, but it was a good film. It was also useful in pointing out to my wife that, just as Elizabeth's first impression of Darcy was wrong (Austen originally titled her work "First Impressions"), so too my wife's refusal to see _Second Chance_ might prevent her from appreciating a high-quality movie. Fellow personages of the masculine persuasion, I have learned that the ultimate tool in convincing your wife to do something you want is to cite chick flicks or relationship books as your authority. Unfortunately, this usually involves you watching the movies or reading the relationship books, but winning arguments is not without its price.

Well, on Saturday night we saw _Second Chance_, and I have to say I was really impressed. As often happens with a "Christian" movie, many Christians go around saying, "This movie is awesome!" and the secular media say, "I almost wish I could say this movie was awesome so I don't get called anti-God, but ..." Well, TVguide.com called it "cliched, often awkward and unlikely to inspire anyone who isn't already thoroughly sold." The _Seattle Times_ headlines reads, "Positive Messages Banally Delivered." The _Orlando Sentinel_ remarks that the movie is "painfully slow." Most critics did, at least, generally affirm that the movie offered a good "message" (which is more than, say, Gibson's Passion merited, what with chummy charges of anti-Semitism and sado-masochism).

I can see why the critics make these negative comments about _Second Chance_. The movie isn't plot-driven or have "surprise" twists. You can pretty much guess what's going to happen: the spoiled suburban white pastor, Ethan, is going to learn that he needs to care about poverty, urban missions and his African-American brothers, and not just throw money at them; the African-American pastor, Jake, is going to learn that he needs sometimes to trust his white brethren, even if they have repeatedly screwed him over and made a farce of Martin Luther King's dream. I mean, sure, the writers could have thrown in a plot twist, such as that at the end you discover the African-American pastor is really--a transexual! (Remember The Crying Game?) The movie is not just a call to urban ministry, but to ordain women and gay pastors! Shocking as such an ending might be, that's not really what the movie is trying to do. The movie is about building relationships. The movie does have surprises, but the surprises aren't from the plot. The surprises are from cliches.

Let me explain. Evangelicalism has certain cliches. I had a Lutheran roommate who commented that evangelical prayers typically began, "God, we just wanna thank you ..." and that Lutheran prayers did not. My wife recently read an article that points out evangelicals more frequently use the declarative in their prayers, such as "God, we ask that you heal us ..." rather than using the imperative or subjunctive, "God, would you please heal us." I don't think such habits are "bad," but it does seem valuable to become self-reflective in the rhetoric we choose, so that we are aware of its strengths, limitations, and alternative models. My Lutheran roommate, for instance, pointed out that Lutheran prayers often begin a prayer with an attribute of God that they can connect to the prayer request--for example, "Our Great Physician [i.e. someone who heals], we ask you to grant healing to our dog Bootsy." I think that type of prayer is kind of groovy. (Hey! I wrote, "WE ASK YOU to grant," and I didn't even notice it at first! Did you?)

I think part of the reason that the secular media has called the movie "cliche" and slow-paced is because they don't understand evangelical culture's use of cliches, and how the movie surprises you in its challenge of them. For instance (WARNING: PLOT SPOILER), when the rich suburban church is going to sell the poverty-stricken urban church's property (resulting in its getting bull-dozed), the promoter encourages, "We've got to sell this property! If we do, it will pay for all of our overseas missions work for five years! God wants us to be good stewards." Now, I have used the "good stewards" line myself, whenever I don't want to give money to something, so it floored me to see it used so ... sinfully. It made me aware of just how potential a jerk I am in danger of becoming if I employ such rhetoric uncritically.

The movie also impressed me with a meta-level critique. The rich spoiled white pastor Ethan, by hanging out in the 'hood, comes to realize that personal relationship is a more important attribute of a congregation than big attendance numbers or great worship music. When the suburban church is putting together a television advertisement to boost attendance, Ethan notices it shows a lot of pictures of music and throngs of people, but it gives no sense of relational connection. Ethan comments that they need to show that the church cares about people and developing relationships; rummaging through some old photo shots, he picks a camera shot of him with his arm around Jake at a homeless shelter. (It appears to have been Ethan's only such trip to the homeless shelter.) When Jake sees the advertisement on tv and sees his picture used to advertise the white church, he gets angry and responds, "what the hell does he think he's doing?" That is, on one level, Ethan was right in seeing that the first version of the ad was missing a personal component; what Ethan failed to realize is that, however subtly, he was still treating Jake not as a person, but as a photo-op. Right when he thinks he knows the meaning of the good ol' cliche, "being personal," he still hasn't gotten it! So much of the movie is about critiquing yourself and discovering you are in need of further critique--it is the recognition that you only see a part of the picture, not the whole. (I really did not intend that pun.)

My suspicion is that, if Christian moviemakers want to be taken seriously by secular movie critics (which they might not), they need strongly to consider _Second Chance_ as a model. Postmodernity has taught society a suspicion of naivety and glib answers, making it difficult to tell an "uplifting" story without seeming to reduce the complexity of a situation or of human motive. (This is why one of the movie's strengths is that it leaves you with a lot of questions, not easy answers.) Even this movie, which radically challenges and critiques many aspect of pop evangelical culture, still seems "banal" and "cliche" to secular critics unfamiliar with the culture that the movie is critiquing. (A side note: isn't the accusation of being "cliched" itself a cliched accusation? Almost every work of art since Jesus's crucifixion has had to be derivative or imitative in some manner. Any story that ends happily can be unthinkingly labelled as "cliched"--and so, for that matter, can an unhappy one. But I digress.) It might be virtually impossible to provide any uplifting Christian vision without seeming banal and cliched, but I think this movie gives an idea of how this is possible. This movie causes us to look at cliches in order to be critical of them, teaching us what it truly means to be "out of our comfort zone."