Category Archives: essays

Breaking Bad on the moral power of choice

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This post discusses the series as a whole as well as the final episode in-depth. There be spoilers ahead. 

I’ve never considered television an art form. At least, not on the same level as film. Even some of my favorite, expertly-produced shows such as “24” are there primarily for escapism. “Breaking Bad” is the show that made me change my mind.

Over the past few weeks, I have binge-watched the show with everyone else, reveling in its expert acting, pacing and artistic flights of fancy (lordy, those camera angles). As the internet has confirmed, I’m not the only one singing its praises. But what has truly captivated us about AMC’s layered drama about a high school chemistry teacher who turns to cooking meth after finding out he has incurable lung cancer is the challenging choices it forces its characters and, by extension us, to face.

Walter White’s universe is cold, cruel and, some might argue, bleak. But, it’s also a profoundly moral one. After the stunning series finale, it’s remarkable to see creator Vince Gilligan’s clarity of vision across five seasons. He has created a world where actions have profound consequences. And consequence, in TV and in life, is something we need more of.

We live in a culture of finger pointing. Everything is someone else’s fault, because that means we never have to own up to our mistakes. We sue each other at the drop of a hat. Our politicians are self-serving, cops have it out for us, our co-workers are all horrible people who can never fully understand our situation, and so on. The most refreshing thing about “Breaking Bad” in my mind is that it puts choice front and center, and no one gets off easy. Everyone makes choices, and they must deal with the consequences of those choices, even if they try to run from them. Gilligan and company have reminded us that our lives are little more than the choices we make every day. Good or bad, big or small, choice is really all we have.

Walter White knows this from the beginning. He knows the choice to start cooking meth will have tremendous consequences. Even as he lies to others, he owns up to his actions in his own mind. Near the end of season 4, he tells his wife, Skyler, “I’ve done these things and I alone am responsible for what happens. Not you.”

This is a true admission, but in another aspect Walt’s decisions are off base. He does what he does, including lying and plenty of murder, because he wants to provide for his family. But, in the world of “Breaking Bad,” that doesn’t fly, and we as an audience know that. If Walt’s is truly a world where it is only our actions that have consequences, then intentions mean very little. Skyler and Walt’s son, Walt Jr., prove this by refusing to accept Walt’s money. The man who has spent a year building a drug empire in order to leave money for his family when his cancer takes him can’t even provide that. His family didn’t care about the purity of his motives, only his actions which, despite intentions, threw their lives into chaos and disarray.

Jesse Pinkman, Walt’s cook partner and philosophical foil, reflects the power of choice even more strongly. Unlike Walt, Jesse has a deep and true conscience. He is racked with guilt when he is forced to shoot a man and when a child is needlessly killed during a job. Jesse’s world remains unclouded from a false pretense of motivation. He has done terrible things, and he has to find some way to live with them. He says this in a powerful scene during a drug rehab session. The counselor is telling him he has to move on from the mistakes he’s made, and Jesse calls this “bullshit.” It’s true. Jesse refuses to be a part of the blame culture by truly owning up to his actions and letting them sink in.

What I thought was so brilliant about the show’s series finale is that it pretty much subverted everything I just said. Some would call this a philosophical cop-out, but I would say it stayed true not only to the show’s universe but to the way the world often works. The most powerful moment in the entire episode (if not the entire show) is when Walt quietly admits to Skyler that he did not build a meth empire for his wife and kids. He did so because he liked it and because he was “good at it.” Does that change how we view Walt’s actions throughout the show? Motivation notwithstanding, Walt did some horrible things, and the universe of “Breaking Bad” seems to demand that he answer for them. But doesn’t this selfish motivation make us wonder whether he would have gone to such incredible lengths to protect himself and his money? Didn’t he see that his actions were hurting his family more than his money would ever help them?

Then comes the real kicker: Walt didn’t have to answer for anything he did. He died, yes, but he died free of the consequences of his actions. Who’s left to deal with those consequences? His family, who he seemingly tricked into taking his money by coercing his old business partner to gift it as part of a trust. His lawyer, Saul Goodman, who is set to live a cold, lonely life in Nebraska under a new name. All those Nazi guys he killed (they had it coming, sure, but still). And, most of all, Jesse. When Jesse drives away from the compound where he was held prisoner and forced to cook meth for a year, he begins to laugh. But, thanks to the always excellent acting of Aaron Paul, we wonder if maybe that laugh is turning into a deep, guttural sob. After all, Jesse still has the burden of living with all the horrible things he has done. Everyone he loves is dead. He has nothing In comparison, Walt got off easy.

Walt’s actions will continue to have tremendous consequences to those around him, even if he no longer has to deal with them. I’ve been rambling about the importance of choice, but the giant hole here is that the very reason Walt’s ever-captivating story was set in motion had nothing to do with choice at all. He didn’t choose to have cancer. His disease seemed a machination of blind, cruel fate. Viewed from this lens, Walt spent the next five seasons building an elaborate dream. He dreamt that he was powerful, that he was in control. But he never was. Cancer could have taken him at any moment. The one choice he could never make was the decision to not have cancer.

That’s what sticks with me about “Breaking Bad.” It doesn’t deal in clear answers or black-and-whites. The decisions we make have consequences, and actions truly do speak louder than words. That’s an important message, for sure. But there are times in our lives where we will have no control over what happens to us. We are not invincible. We need help. Do we cry out for assistance when everything starts to crumble? Or, do we continue to live in a fantasy world where we are in control? The fact that a TV show is forcing us to ask these kinds of questions is what will make “Breaking Bad” linger in the consciousness much longer than its admittedly stellar cinematic craftsmanship.

Looking Up: The Films of Terrence Malick

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If God does speak to us, what does he say? More importantly, how do we listen and respond? These are not easy questions, but it’s something that has been on the mind of filmmaker Terrence Malick for a long time.

Malick was already wrestling with themes such as the nature of existence, loneliness and finding God in silence with his early films “Badlands” and “Days of Heaven.” Then, he dropped off the directorial map for 20 years (Michael Nordine wrote a tremendous article about those missing years that should be required reading for film buffs).

When Malick re-emerged from obscurity with the peerless war film “The Thin Red Line” in 1998, movie fans and critics learned a few things. With the rise of the contemporary blockbuster and the leave-your-brain-at-the-door thrills of the likes of “Godzilla,” “Armageddon” and Deep Impact,” a voice like Malick’s—honest, sincere, challenging – was sorely missed in American Cinema. Also, filmgoers realized that Malick had not been content to rest on his laurels during his absence. If anything, those years away had only sharpened his theological and philosophical convictions, as well as his impeccable filmmaking craft.

“The Thin Red Line,” loosely based upon the novel by James Jones, was nominated for seven Academy Awards, including Best Picture and Best Director. It won none. The film was sadly overshadowed in popularity and prestige by “Saving Private Ryan,” Steven Spielberg’s excellent-yet-inferior WWII Oscar winner. That film went on to win Spielberg his second Best Director statue. Both war films lost the Best Picture race to John Madden’s “Shakespeare in Love” in one of the biggest upsets in Oscar history. How two of the greatest war pictures of all time could lose to an admittedly great yet ultimately inconsequential film like “Shakespeare” remains an enigma, but one gets the feeling that Academy voters and critics respected “The Thin Red Line” more than enjoyed it. It seemed as though the world wasn’t quite ready for Terrence Malick’s return. In some ways, they never would be.

In some circles, the director’s films have become parodies of themselves, reaching peak levels of art-house pretentiousness, bloated length and, some might argue, preachy themes. While watching “The Thin Red Line” today, it may be easy to recognize some of these tropes, but it’s tough to argue against the idea that the film is one of the finest, most deeply impactful depictions of war ever committed to celluloid.

The film follows multiple soldiers and top brass as they attempt to push back Japanese forces during the Battle of Mount Austen, part of the Guadalcanal Campaign during WWII. It seems as though a who’s who of venerable actors were chomping at the bit to be included in a Malick film, including John Travolta, Adrien Brody, John Cusack, Woody Harrelson and Nick Nolte. But the primary focus is on Private Witt (Jim Caviezel), whose narration occurs in quite voice-over, a signature Malick technique. Witt converses with God about the meaning of war, faith, nature, and the motivation to carry on. His philosophical foil is Sean Penn’s 1st Sargent Welsh, who steadfastly denies the existence of God at every turn.

These two characters represent the philosophical dualism that Malick’s films exude. There are often two, conflicted ways to go living through this world, whether its war vs. peace, human nature vs. God’s providence or doubt vs. certainty.

“What is this war within nature?” Witt asks in the opening lines of the film. This war is not only the physical one fought by the soldiers, but the one that is fought within the souls of men. Darkness and light are constantly at war with one another. The darkness is readily apparent in the film’s bloody and realistic battle sequences. The soldiers handle the darkness in different ways. Witt handles it with hope; he always looks up, and he prays “in you I place my trust” to God during a striking candlelit scene. Welsh stays away from such pretensions, proclaiming that “there ain’t no world but this one.”

One would not expect to find God on a battlefield, and Witt struggles with finding the light amidst the darkness. “This great evil—where did it come from?” he asks. “How did it steal into the world? What’s keeping us from reaching out, touching the glory?” But, where there is evil there is also love. Witt finds it in his experiences living AWOL with native islanders in the South Pacific that open and close the film. In these scenes, the chaos of war is but a distant nightmare. “Where does it come from?” Witt asks. “Who lit this flame in us?” Even during warfare, Malick’s lens focuses on the beauty amidst the destruction. The trees and grass sway gently, the river runs, and everything from frogs to crocodiles to insects live out their peaceful existence unaware of the manmade chaos swirling around them. Some might find Malick’s frequent nature shots over-indulgent or random, but they are anything but. Rather, they further reflect Malick’s idea that nature, both human and divine, are in a constant state of struggle.

Near the end of the film, Witt asks, “Darkness and light, are they the working of one mind?” It’s a question he has been wrestling with the entire film. His response is not so much an answer as a decision to give himself over to the light when he is killed in action. Another soldier speaks for his departed spirit in the closing scene, where the ocean waters as the soldiers leave the island represent a sort of baptism, a washing away of the blood and dirt as well as other, less visible stains. “Oh my soul, let me be in you now.”

The New World

Malick’s focus on the baptismal waters and the purifying powers of nature in general received a more intense focus in his next film, “The New World.” The historical drama follows the familiar (and unfortunately Disney-fied) story of the founding of the Jamestown settlement and the complicated romance between Captain John Smith (Colin Farrell) and the young Native American Pocahontas (Q’orianka Kilcher).

The film is almost prohibitively beautiful, as the camera sweeps across the vast American landscape, showing both the possibility and the danger of a land of great promise. Emmanual Lubezki’s sensuous cinematography captures the beauty of nature through long shots, letting the natural sound of the environment speak for itself. Like in “Thin Red Line,” God is everywhere here: in trees, grass, water and earth, there is a spirit that guides the actions of the characters. “Mother,” Pocahontas asks, “where do you live—in the sky, the clouds, the sea? Show me your face.”  The film’s presentation of spirituality derives not only from English Christianity but also traditional Native American spiritual practices.

Despite appearances, Malick can’t be accused of pantheism here. God and nature are not one in the same. Rather, all of nature is infused with the spirit. Theologian N.T. Wright calls this an “overlapping” view: heaven and earth are not completely distinct, nor are they one and the same. Rather, they occasionally overlap in distinct but often quiet ways. In “The New World,” God’s voice is often a quiet, gentle guide. “Who are you whom I so faintly hear?” John Smith asks near the beginning of the film. “What voice is this that speak within me, guides me toward the best?”

The film is a series of births and re-births. There’s the initial attempt at colonization, Smith’s initiation into Pocahontas’ tribe, Smith’s (fake) drowning and Pocahontas’ Christian baptism as “Rebecca,” among others. The film opens and closes to the sounds and images of a rushing river, and we see that the waters of baptism renew the spirit as well as the body. We see this in Captain Newport’s (Christopher Plummer) speech on colonizing the New World. “God has given us a promised land, a great inheritance, a new kingdom of the spirit. We shall make a new start. A new beginning.”

But God is found much more in Pocahontas’ encounters with Mother Nature than in the New Englanders’ Christianity. Malick doesn’t shy away from the role religion played in the settlers’ sometimes-barbaric treatment of the natives. When “Rebecca” is taken as the Americas’ ambassador to London to meet the Queen, we see little of her God in the bustling city streets and ornate constructed cathedrals. She agrees to stay in England and marry the handsome John Rolfe (Christian Bale), but we see her heart truly lies back in America, with the God of her people. She is only truly free again at the end of the film; after she has died, she frolics through the trees and lifts her hands up to the sky. “What is from you, and what is not?” she asks. In this case, the answer is easy.

The Tree of Life

Malick’s next film is considered by many to be his most personal film, as well as his masterpiece. Others, however, consider it a load of pseudo-spiritual hogwash: overlong, deliberately obtuse and unnecessarily ponderous. When the film was released, theaters had to put up signs telling paying moviegoers that they could not have their money back.

Certainly, “The Tree of Life” is a perfect distillation of everything people love and hate about Terrence Malick. The film is, once again, impossibly beautiful (Lubezki again), but it can be difficult to connect images of canyons, dinosaurs and the creation and destruction of the universe with the primary story being told (which is, of course, the point). The “story,” as much as it can be called one, concerns Jack O’Brien (played as an adult by Sean Penn) growing up in Waco, Texas in the 1950s (Malick himself grew up there). His family’s life is thrown into turmoil when his oldest brother dies. He is forced to come to terms with Malick’s clearest example of dualism, the way of nature vs. the way of grace. Mrs. O’Brien (Jessica Chastain) represents the way of grace, while Mr. O’Brien (Brad Pitt) represents the way of nature. “There are two ways through life: the way of nature and the way of grace,” Mrs. O’Brien narrates at the beginning of the film. “You have to choose which one you’ll follow.”

The concept of choice is always a major theme with Malick. Specifically, the ability to choose hope over despair. Mrs. O’Brien represents hope in the midst of tragedy, while Mr. O’Brien represents the more “natural” response. But hope, in Malick’s eyes, is a dichotomy: it is an impossible and yet natural response. His characters always look to the sky, reaching toward something. They choose hope, and at the same time can’t help but look up. Hope is a physical as well as an emotional response. But some, such as Mr. O’Brien, continue in the ways of “nature:” they often find themselves in those age-old pitfalls: legalism and certainty (mostly in God’s non-existence). Malick’s heroes are never certain God is there (that’s why they ask so many questions), but their natural response is to look up nonetheless. The trick in “The Tree of Life” is that grace is actually the natural response: it is “nature” itself that has been corrupted.

To The Wonder

In case the title is no indication, Malick’s latest film, “To the Wonder,” is in many ways his most overtly theological. It’s also his most sensual, exploring the “holy mystery” of marriage between Neil (Ben Affleck) and Marina, a woman he meets in France (Olga Kurylenko). The film portrays the emotional ups-and-downs as well as the challenge of staying faithful (neither of them do). This “holy mystery” we call love and marriage is, once again, both spiritual and physical. “I feel so close I could almost touch you,” Marina narrates in French. “There is always this invisible something that I feel so strongly which ties us so tightly together. I love this feeling, even if it makes me cry sometimes.”

In the midst of this story is also one of a priest, Father Quintana, (“serial killer” Javier Bardem, in a particularly odd but inspired casting choice), who struggles with his own doubt and narrates a good portion of the film in Spanish. Here, Malick uses multiple languages to show that love is a universal and visual language. He celebrates multiculturalism while not dwelling on it.

The film is predictably gorgeous, but Malick turns his eye from expansive vistas (thought there are some) to the dilapidated crack houses and storm drains of Oklahoma. God is no less present here than he is in Pocahontas’ native lands. But he can be harder to hear. This is particularly true amidst the mundane images and bombast of American culture: the carnival, the rodeo, Sonic drive-thru and the supermarket. Marina finds herself alone as a housewife struggling with domesticity and ennui. Like Pocahontas, she seems to long for somewhere else. When she returns to France for a time, she doesn’t find what she’s looking for. She seems to be waiting for something intangible.

Malick’s films are often about waiting in quiet expectation—for love, redemption or change. Often, we don’t get what we long for, but Malick sees value in the waiting. And yet, refusal to act is the greatest sin in Malick’s universe. “Jesus insists on choice,” Father Quintana says in a sermon. “The one thing he condemns utterly is avoiding the choice. Forgiveness he never denies us. The man who makes a mistake can repent. But the man who hesitates, who does nothing, who buries his talent in the earth; with him, he can do nothing.” This goes back to the greatest of all choices: the choice to either believe in or reject Christ as savior. Sometimes we must wait, but the ultimate choice is one we must all act upon, whether we want to or not.

Our conflicting human nature can be seen even in our romantic relationships. Marina speaks of “two women. One full of love for you. The other pulls me down towards the earth.” She is pulled to commit adultery, but her higher nature admits her indiscretion to Neil (the result is not pleasant). The way of “nature” is one that pulls us down, and we bring others down with us. Another word for it might be “sin.” It is something that must be actively fought against, for our nature does us more harm than good. But again, grace can also be natural, and, in the context of a marriage, a necessity.

Finding Grace in the Questions

Throughout his filmmaking career, Terrence Malick has always asked the big questions while refusing to provide easy answers. Faith in God is never easy because life is never easy. Like anything that matters in life, you have to work at it. And work his characters do. The only stagnant characters are the ones who are certain God doesn’t exist. In Malick’s eyes, faith in God may provide more questions than answers. But those questions are always, eminently, worth asking. They keep us strong and active. They pull us up toward heaven and away from the way of “nature.” They keep us looking up.

I want to end with Father Quintana’s prayer at the end of “To the Wonder,” one of the most magnificent prayers ever committed to film. “Christ be with me. Christ before me. Christ behind me. Christ in me. Christ beneath me. Christ above me. Christ on my right. Christ on my left. Christ in my heart. Thirsting, we thirst. Flood our souls with your spirit and life so completely that our lives may only be a reflection of yours. Shine through us. Show us how to seek you. We were made to see you.”

Yes, this is the prayer of a doubter and a seeker. No bitterness toward God, no anger. Simply a desire to be closer to the light. If ever there was a way for the medium of film itself to help us see that light a bit more clearly, Terrence Malick has found it. Growing closer to God is a matter of inches at a time, not miles. Life is often unbearably hard. But we have to keep looking up.

Redefining escapism at the movies

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I saw “Pacific Rim” the other day, and so did the rest of the audience in the theater I was in. Nothing new there. But there’s a difference between watching a movie and viewing it, and it’s a big one.

Much debate has occurred over the distracted nature of our modern society. In a movie theater, this normally looks like people texting or talking during a movie. But what I witnessed the crowd in that theater doing the other day went beyond that.

Several people in the theater didn’t just look distracted; they looked like they were actively struggling to sit still for a couple of hours. I don’t imagine it was the movie’s fault; it was great, and there was quite a bit of applause when the credits rolled. But not everyone in the theater saw the same movie I did. A man sitting in my row kept staring at his phone as if expecting an important message. He got up and left the theater three times during the movie, but he always came back.

The theater used to be a place of escapism, a place where we could forget our troubles for a few hours and become immersed in the magic of cinema. In our connected culture, that way of thinking is going the way of the drive-in theater. At home, people can pause a Netflix movie to run a quick errand, or they can stop the movie entirely if they don’t like it, with nary a penny wasted. Why waste valuable time and money sitting in a sticky dark cave?

But what about the really good movies? The ones that make us think, feel, dream, the ones that challenge us or maybe remind us of important truths we knew all along? Are these worlds not worth getting lost in? That is where the theater comes in. Complete immersion cannot occur when sitting on the couch.

But it has never been just the location that makes the theater special. It’s the mindset behind the eager theatergoer; the one who is willing to pay sometimes-exorbitant amounts of money because they want to escape the cares of their everyday lives for a few hours. They want to escape into the magic of movies. At least, that’s how it used to be.

Now, its seems, people have more important things to do. I imagine my row-mate, sitting at a Friday morning screening, really wanted to see “Pacific Rim.” But showing up to the theater isn’t enough. He clearly had more important things to take care of that day. And that’s great. But why did he have to come to the theater to realize that?

If I can’t put my life on hold for a few hours to see a movie, I just won’t go. It’s that simple. I love the movies too much to treat them as a sideshow to my self-importance. We all bring baggage with us into the theater; it’s exactly that baggage that we’re trying to escape from, after all. But I’ve gone to the theater before with too much going on in my life, too many stresses and anxieties, and I’ve been miserable even while watching great movies. I would not allow myself to get lost.

If the movies are going to continue to provide escapism from the routine of our everyday lives, we must allow ourselves to escape. If they are going to transport us, we must allow ourselves to be transported. Otherwise, we might as well just go home.

Video Games and Violence

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Much ado has been lately about the connection between video games and gun violence. It’s been a media target for some time, and the recent Sandy Hook shootings have only added to the frenzy. I saw this video the other day and thinks it speaks volumes.

http://video.foxnews.com/v/2129792166001/

Unfortunately, I couldn’t find a way to embed the video, but it is worth your time.

Adam Sessler is right. There seems to be something that happens when a new form of media comes on the scene. People with more traditional sensibilities almost always rally against it, simply because it is new and unknown. Video games have been facing that stigma for some time. Here is a research paper I wrote on the subject, particularly how it relates to youth aggression. This is an important issue that I think we need to be paying more attention to, rather than just pointing fingers.

 

Interactive Electronic Entertainment: Culprit or Scapegoat?

Ever since the creation of film in the early twentieth century, the debate over media violence and its effect on aggression has been ongoing. By the mid-1970s, however, society thought it had everything figured out. While violent media certainly had its detractors, most people were willing to accept it as long as it stayed on the screen, static and un-interactive.  However, a new, highly interactive medium came along to throw a proverbial wrench in the works; this medium was video games. The increasingly interactive and violent video games of the early 1990s led to concern from both parents and lawmakers about the harmful effects that this interactive violence could have upon children, particularly after it was revealed that the shooters of the Columbine massacre on April 20, 1999, enjoyed the violent shooting game Doom. Since then, many experts have weighed in their opinions, ultimately finding a causal relationship between short-term adolescent aggression and violent video games. The evidence, however, shows that increased aggression has not been proven to correlate to violent or antisocial behavior later in life, and that insisting so ultimately causes parents to overlook more imperative issues regarding the world their children are being raised in.

Today, the issues regarding negative associations between adolescent aggression are even more numerous and controversial, partially because video games have become so popular. According to Wagner, “Video games are in 80% ofU.S.homes with children; they generated $6 billion in 2000 and $11 billion by 2003” (par. 9). According to aMichiganStateUniversitysurvey of youths from fifth grade through college, they are spending more time playing video games than watching television (Wagner par. 2). In Kutner and Olson’s survey of middle school youth, just 17 children out of 1,254 had never played video games (89-90). Given the prevalence of video games in family homes acrossAmerica, it’s easy to see that they’re not going away anytime soon. It’s also easy to see the concerns that parents may have about the effects these video games may have upon their children, particularly the violent ones. This concern makes any reasonable evidence concerning the effects of these games very important for parents.

The first question that parents may ask regarding the video games that their children play is “Will playing these games really make my child more aggressive?” According to the research of Craig A. Anderson of the American Psychological Association, the answer is yes. Anderson’s General Affective Aggression Model suggests that “playing a violent video game can cause violent thoughts, feelings, and even physical symptoms (elevated heart rate) that, if repeated over time, can change habits of behavior , leading to more aggression” (Brake 269).

According to Anderson’s research, “violent video games are significantly associated with: increased aggressive behavior, thoughts and affect, increased physiological arousal; and decreased prosocial (helping) behavior” (Anderson par. 4). Also,Anderson says that high levels of violent game exposure have been linked to criminal behavior (par. 9). Although many might think that this connection only exists with graphically violent video games, studies have also found increased aggression after playing unrealistic and fantasy violent games (Anderson par. 11). If Anderson’s research is any indication, parents might have a lot to worry about when it comes to their children playing video games, but the problems don’t stop there.

Research has shown that video games are inherently addictive, causing a child to lose track of time and play while ignoring all else (Skalski and Fitzpatrick, 274). While visions of a pasty, isolated child who badly needs a shower, playing uninterrupted for days straight, are frightening enough, children who are addicted to video games may experience symptoms of withdrawal when these games are taken away (Skalski and Fitzpatrick 274), not unlike the symptoms of an addiction to a drug. Worst of all, addiction to games may lead to increased capacities for aggression (Skalski and Fitzpatrick 273). This risk of addiction is further complicated by the fact that video games are becoming increasingly realistic, and that the increase of violent behaviors in games increases the risks that are associated with these behaviors (Skalski and Fitzpatrick 274).

The most disturbing fact about the effects of violent games on youth is not the previously stated evidence, or even the effects themselves, but simply the fact that research on the issue as a whole is so weak and thin (Freedman 42), and there are still many questions that people are asking that have not been answered sufficiently. Part of the problem lies simply in the fact that the medium as a whole is relatively new, and, because of that, the content has not been as thoroughly analyzed as that of movies or TV (Sherry 285). Additionally, results on the effects of violent video games thus far are mostly similar to those on TV and movie violence (Wagner par. 4), and it seems as though most researchers have just assumed that video games are as simple in their effect on users as those other mediums. Another complicating factor lies in the fact that the results of experimental studies on the effects of video games have been mixed. Some have found a link between violent video games and aggression, while others have found no link or even a decrease in aggression as a result of such exposure (Ferguson26). Brake concludes that, if a connection between video games and violence exists, it is only one of many factors (269). Obviously, there is a lot for parents and those concerned with the fate of youth to be worried about. But, given so much inconsistent evidence, it is difficult to pinpoint exactly what we all should be most concerned about.

Another problem is the fact that this issue is much more complex than first meets the eye. While Anderson’s research is certainly a cause for concern, there is evidence that suggests that he is not seeing the whole picture. The correlation between media violence and aggression raises the possibility that it causes children to be aggressive, but it is still only a possibility. The challenge is proving causality (Freedman 45). In other words, the fact that video games can cause aggression holds very little significance if it does not specifically increase long-term aggression. The other main concern is that playing video games will lead children to become violent criminals. However, the evidence for school shooters does not support the idea that their playing of violent games has a direct effect on their decision to shoot (Ferguson 29); and, youth violence has decreased significantly over the last decade, so much that, according to Kutner and Olson, “You are more likely to be struck and killed by lightning than to die in a school shooting” (8). Just because criminals sometimes blame violent video games such as Grand Theft Auto for their actions doesn’t mean that they’re telling the truth. It’s common for criminals to place blame for their actions on something else, including video games (Ferguson 34).

The overall trends in violent crime do not support the correlation between increased aggression and violent acts, either. According to a survey by Griffiths and Hunt, only 12% of school violence perpetrators expressed interest in violent video games, as compared to over 90% of non-violent males who play violent video games (Ferguson29). Additionally, if violent video game sales have increased in recent years, violent crimes have actually decreased dramatically (Ferguson33). Given this evidence, it really does not seem logical to blame all of society’s problems on violent video games. And, if short-term aggression does not lead to long-term aggression or violent behavior, thenAnderson’s research is insignificant.

There is, however, further evidence suggesting that not only isAnderson’s evidence inconsequential, but it may also be outright false. First off,Anderson’s research is the only one of its kind out there. So, even with his conclusions, “Neither the quality nor quantity of research on video games does much to inspire confidence in solid conclusions about their effects” (Kutner and Olson 58). Also, studies that take into account variables such as personality, family violence or genetics find that these variables weaken the link between video game violence and aggression (Ferguson27).Anderson’s studies did not consider these variables. Freedman even concluded that, “due to weak evidence, exposure to media violence does not cause aggression, or if it does the effects are so weak that they cannot be detected and must therefore be vanishingly small” (200-201). It can be concluded that, whileAndersonhad good intentions, his studies may have been at least partially influenced by politics

Politics, in fact, have played a large role in the lynching of video games in the media as the cause of all of our youth’s violence. “Video games present something of a ‘straw man’ by which politicians can create an appearance of taking action against crime” (Ferguson 30). The media contributes to these biases, often paying “greater attention to negative news about video games than to positive news as it better suits their agendas” (Ferguson30). The most egregious example of these biases is the shooting at Virginia Tech. Pundits were quick to blame video games for the shooter’s behavior, even  though “police found no video games, consoles or other equipment when they searched his room” (Kutner and Olson 195).  Another contributor to these biases is simply the generation gap between legislators and members of the media and young adults and children, who are the primary players of video games (Kutner and Olson 201).

All of these biases lead to a moral panic, where frightened, uninformed parents take the war on video games to a legislative battle. “As moral panic develops, research is ‘cherry picked’ that supports the panic. Research supportive of the moral is accepted without question,” whereas research that questions the panic is ignored (Ferguson32). This moral panic came to a head when the Illinois Legislature’s 2005 bill to ban the sale of violent video games to minors was presented to the State Court by Craig Anderson and Florida Attorney and anti-video game activist Jack Thompson. Although it was a state battle, national attention was focused on the decision of this court, as their decision could influence other states to take similar action against video games.U.S.District Judge Matthew F. Kennelly saw through the political posturing and moral panic, however, when he discredited the merit of Anderson’s research. “Dr. Anderson provided no evidence supporting the view that playing violent video games has a lasting effect on aggressive thoughts and behavior—in other words, an effect that lingers more than a short time after the player stops playing the game” (Kutner and Olson 203). Kennelly also took a stand against political influence in the family household. “If controlling access to allegedly ‘dangerous’ speech is important in promoting the positive psychological development of children, in our society that role is properly accorded to parents and families, not the state” (Kutner and Olson 205).

Despite all of these issues, the most important issue for parents has not yet been raised. Using video games—or any other kind of media for that matter—as a scapegoat for the problems of our youth shifts the focus away from the much more important and pressing issues regarding the way children are raised, which include “a range of social, behavioral, economic, biological and mental health factors” (Kutner and Olson 190). Kutner and Olson conclude that there is little evidence that solving the violent media debate will solve our violent crime problem (108), and that, compared to other factors in the children’s environment, the influence of media exposure is relatively small (121). In the meantime, however, what is to be done with video games?

The solution for parents is to make video games work for their family rather than against them. Each family should decide for themselves how to do this, but here are a few tips. Children often incorporate their parents’ values and judgments into their interpretations of the violence they see in video games (Kutner and Olson 218). Given good values and judgments, they will be able to take these judgments and apply them to their confrontations in the virtual world. Another tip is to simply let children play video games, particularly because “the appeal of violent video games is likely related to normal sensation-seeking and to testing the limits of acceptability” (Kutner and Olson 116). Furthermore, playing with violent themes helps children overcome being frightened. The emotional arousal caused by these games lets the children experiment with these sensations when they know they’re safe (Kutner and Olson 119). It’s also important to know that, for many young players, video gaming is a very social activity, whether kids are playing Halo at their friends’ houses or World of Warcraft online, where they are likely to make interactions with new people and perhaps make new friends. Defeating a real person in a game helps children figure out social relationships (Kutner and Olson, 130-131). So, allowing them to play with friends lets them form these important bonds themselves. Also, be aware of the real-world violence that is going on in or around your household. Realistic violence, like on the news, is thought to be more likely to desensitize children than video game violence, which children often know is fake (Kutner and Olson 107). Finally, it’s important to know that some children are more vulnerable to the influence of media, while others are more resistant (Kutner and Olson 121). In other words, parents should know their children and their limitations.

It’s important to understand than not all video games are appropriate for children to play. However, it’s also important to realize that video games have some distinctly positive benefits for children. Some educators believe that many electronic games, even those that are not explicitly educational, can help children learn (Brake 270). Video games have also been used as a form of physiotherapy, and can improve hand-eye coordination. Game play has also been cited as a positive influence on nonverbal portions of IQ tests (Brake 271). Some children have used games that include aerobic exercise, like Dance Dance Revolution or Wii Fit, in weight reduction plans, and P.E. programs and gyms have begun to use them as well (Kutner and Olson 216). Video games are also very positive for children with learning disabilities, particularly ADD, because, in the virtual world, they can truly succeed at something while coping with their feelings of anger or isolation (Kutner and Olson 134-135). Finally, while a major concern for many parents is that their children will not be able to fully understand the real-world consequences of their actions in the virtual world; there is evidence to suggest that that is not the case. In Kutner and Olson’s studies of middle-school youth, the kids understood the real-world consequences that acting like their favorite game character would have, and expressed a desire to avoid such consequences (122). It appears as though children are actually keenly aware of the real-world consequences of their actions in video games, perhaps more often than many parents might give them credit for.

The increased levels of violence in video games have led to much controversy, including political grandstanding and plenty of concerns from parents and lawmakers. Lost in the mix, however, is the true problem: thinking that simply getting rid of video games to solve all of the problems of youth causes parents and lawmakers to ignore more pertinent issues regarding the current state of youth and how to properly raise them. And, while video game violence and its effect on aggression and criminality in adolescents is an important debate with valid concerns, it does not mean that parents should simply look for a scapegoat to fit our preconceived notions. Rather, parents should examine the evidence, and then draw their conclusions based upon that evidence. Based upon that evidence, it’s easy to see that, although we should remain vigilant and alert in regards to the potentially harmful effects of video games and violent media in general, video games alone will not transform a child into a hardened criminal. Ultimately, while it is important for parents to know their children and their limits, they should also understand that if a kid or teenager goes out and kills someone, video games have been  the least of his/her problems.

 

Works Cited

Anderson, Craig A. “General Affective Aggression Model.” Psychnet.apa.org.

American Psychological Association. Web. 23 Feb. 2010

Anderson, Craig A. “Violent Video Games: Myths, Facts, and Unanswered Questions.”

Apa.org. The American Psychological Association. Oct. 2003. Web. 4 Feb. 2010.

Brake, David. “Effects of Electronic Games.” Encyclopedia of Children, Adolescents

and the Media. Ed. Jeffrey Jensen Arnett. Vol. 1.Thousand Oaks: SAGE, 2007. Print.

Ferguson, Christopher J. “The School Shooting/ Violent Video Game Link: Causal

Relationship or Moral Panic?” Journal of Investigative Psychology and Offender Profiling 5 (2008): 25-37. Academic Search Premier. Web. 23 Feb. 2010.

Freedman, Jonathan L. Media Violence and Its Effect on Aggression: Assessing the

            Scientific Evidence.Toronto: University of Toronto Press Inc., 2002. Print.

Kutner, Lawrenceand Olson, Cheryl K. Grand Theft Childhood.New York: Simon &

Schuster, 2008. Print.

Sherry, John L. “Violence in Electronic Games.” Encyclopedia of Children, Adolescents

and the Media. Ed. Jeffrey Jensen Arnett. Vol. 1.Thousand Oaks: SAGE, 2007. Print.

Skalski. Paul and Fitzpatrick, Stacy. “High Risk Players of Electronic Games.”

Encyclopedia of Children, Adolescents and the Media. Ed. Jeffrey Jensen Arnett.

Vol. 1.Thousand Oaks: SAGE, 2007. Print.

Wagner, Cynthia G. “Aggression and Violent Media.” The Futurist. July-August 2004:

16. Academic Search Premier. Web. 2 Feb. 2010.

 

 

 

 

 

Movies vs. Video Games: The Problem with Comparison

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There has been a strange trend with the recent reviews of Peter Jackson’s “The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey.” Surely, one would expect comparisons to Tolkien’s original book and Jackson’s previous “The Lord of the Rings” trilogy. But video games?

Yes, the recently released film adaptation of Tolkien’s timeless story has become the latest victim of being negatively compared to a video game. While critics have taken issues with the film’s slack pacing, bloated length and overabundance of CGI, some have also seen it as less of a cinematic exercise and more of an electronic one.

The recent “Hobbit” film is only the latest movie to be negatively compared to a video game

Rottentmoates’ Tim Ryan writes:

“I love the following things, in no particular order: cinema, video games, and BBC series. However, The Hobbit taught me an important lesson: I don’t like it when my movies look alternately like video games and/or BBC series. There were moments in the film where I wasn’t sure whether I was watching the making-of featurette or a cut scene (for a millisecond after Gandalf showed up to rescue the dwarves from the Great Goblin, my brain instinctively steeled itself for an intense boss battle).”

While Ryan wrote mostly of Jackson’s controversial decision to shoot the film in 48 frames per second (twice the normal 24), a similar argument could be made for the film’s CG-heavy visuals. It’s certainly not the first popular movie to receive the seemingly ignoble distinction. Everything from “The Avengers” to film in the “Transformers,” “Pirates of the Caribbean,” and “Spider-Man” franchises have been, one time or another, been compared more to video games than movies.

The comparison is rarely flattering. After all, video games are child’s toys, while film is an old and sophisticated art form. Or so the consensus seems to be.

But, for several reasons, comparing movies to video games is never a truly valid critique. The major flaw in reasoning is the fact that movies and video games are fundamentally different mediums. No matter how much we might call it so, “The Hobbit” is a movie. It will never be interactive. Regardless of how many times I watch it, even if I memorize every line, the movie will never change. It is an artifact, immovable in time. That’s the beautiful thing about film: the story itself changes the same, but our interpretation of it can change along with us.

The major difference for video games is that they are, by their vary nature, interactive. It is a more dynamic medium, with a greater potential to engage the audience via its unique interactivity. Why then, are video games mentioned when a movie is criticized for being all flash and no substance?

 

“Bioshock” (2007) is one of the premier examples of the power of interactive storytelling, something that film will never be able to share.

Roger Ebert’s famed argument that “video games can never be art” is still being hotly debated, but certainly they can be as entertaining and emotionally engaging as movies. For every forgettable shooter or smash-em-up, there seems to be another game that is thought-provoking or emotionally engaging in ways that the medium of film can never convey. A popular example is “Bioshock,” and for good reason. The games dystopian themes and twisted world are magnificent simply because the player is allowed to explore them and shape them as they see fit. The reason a “Bioshock” movie sounds so unpalatable is simply because fans can’t imagine a version of that universe in which they aren’t the ones making the decisions that shape the story and world.

Or consider “Amnesia: The Dark Descent,” arguably the most terrifying game ever played. The terror exceeds that of any horror film because you are the one being hunted, you are the one running for your life. Many games emphasize making the player feel powerful, but this one trades in the art of fear.

Oddly enough, video game critics sometimes make the opposite argument: a game can, apparently, unflatteringly resemble a movie if there are too many cut scenes, too much static plot and not enough interaction. The greatest example is probably the “Metal Gear Solid” series, which features award-winning game play but has often been criticized for requiring players to sit through hours of convoluted storytelling before pressing a button.

“Metal Gear Solid 4” was criticized by some for its lengthy cut scenes sometimes resembling a movie more than a game.

The fact is that movies and video games can both be wonderful experiences, but for very different reasons. Movies will never be video games, and video games will never be movies. They are fundamentally different mediums, with their own strengths and weaknesses. Look at adaptations; there’s a reason both video games based on movies and movies based on video games rarely turn out well. No one has been able to quite figure out how to translate one medium’s strengths to the other. And maybe that’s the way it should be. Ultimately, critics should stick to what they know best. Movies should be compared to other movies, and games should be compared to other games. It does little good to call a film or a game something it’s not.

God Presents: At the Movies

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If there’s one thing about Ridley Scott’s latest sci-fi opus “Prometheus” that stand out, it’s this: the movie sure seems to have God on its mind. In fact, a viewer would not be remiss to refer to it as a philosophical pondering on the nature of humanity to its creator or creators before calling it a science fiction film.

While Scott and the screenwriters of “Prometheus” have no desire to preach, they nonetheless reflect one of the more unexpected changes that Hollywoodcinema has undergone in recent years: the shift from wondering if God exists to wondering who he is and why he exists. It seems that God, in one form or another, is becoming a given in the eyes of many prominent filmmakers. For Scott, at least, this subtle-yet-powerful change in perspective is reflected in his own changing beliefs. In an interview with The New York Times, the filmmaker said he had “converted” from atheism to agnosticism. His attitude towards God? “Now my feeling goes with ‘could be.'” Perhaps more important than Scott’s searching is his willingness to admit such a thing in public and, even, express such thoughts through his art. But he’s not the only one asking questions.

One of the most theological filmmakers working in the industry is, and always has been, Terrence Malick. He has never provided many answers, but has always asked excellent questions. His latest film, “The Tree of Life,“ focuses on the life of a family living in the South, and how God intervenes in their lives in the midst of tragedy. At the beginning of the film, Mrs. O’Brien says, “there are two ways through life: the way of nature and the way of grace. You have to choose which one you’ll follow.” Malick establishes a world where there is an intersection between tangible creation and the realm of the spirit. Despite this intermingling, the two are nonetheless distinct entities. Compare this to say, the presentation of the Earth and the spiritual as one and the same, as in James Cameron’s Avatar. 

Some recent movies have been a bit more overt in their spiritual implications. In “The Adjustment Bureau,” we find two people who meet and fall in love, despite the fact that it wasn’t part of the “plan.” This plan is created by the “chairman” (aka God) and enforced by the “adjustment bureau” (aka angels). In this world, there is a clear force that guides humanity on a set path. When the politician David Norris deviates from the path by risking his political career for the sake of love, the bureau comes in to set everything right.

In one telling scene, Norris, played by Matt Damon, asks bureau agent Thompson, “whatever happened to Free Will?” Thompson responds, “We actually tried Free Will before. After taking you from hunting and gathering to the height of theRoman Empirewe stepped back to see how you’d do on your own. You gave us the Dark Ages for five centuries… until finally we decided we should come back in. The Chairman thought maybe we just needed to do a better job of teaching you how to ride a bike before taking the training wheels off again. So we gave you the Renaissance, the Enlightenment, the Scientific Revolution. For six hundred years we taught you to control your impulses with reason, then in 1910 we stepped back. Within fifty years, you’d brought us World War I, the Depression, Fascism, the Holocaust and capped it off by bringing the entire planet to the brink of destruction in the Cuban Missile Crisis. At that point a decision was taken to step back in again before you did something that even we couldn’t fix. You don’t have free will, David. You have the appearance of free will.” Here, the creator gave humanity a chance, but we proved to be inept at running ourselves, so he kindly stepped back in to guide us on the path.

A film with more overt Judeo-Christian implications is the Denzel Washington vehicle The Book of Eli. Washington plays a man on a mission from God to travel West while protecting a powerful “book,” the last of its kind, which is clearly the Bible. Eli reads the book religiously and protects it at all costs. At the end of the film, Eli prays to a clearly-defined God: “Dear Lord, thank you for giving me the strength and the conviction to complete the task you entrusted to me. Thank you for guiding me straight and true through the many obstacles in my path. And for keeping me resolute when all around seemed lost. Thank you for your protection and your many signs along the way. Thank you for any good that I may have done, I’m so sorry about the bad.” Eli’s mission is never his own, but is guided by a clear light from above. God is omnipresent, even in a violent, apocalyptic wasteland. Returning from a screening, a friend of mine excitedly proclaimed, “I want to read the Bible. Like, right now!”

Back in the world of “Prometheus,” the android, David asks the scientist, Charlie, “Why do you think people made me?” Charlie responds, “We made you because we could.” David’s reply: “Can you imagine how disappointing it would be to hear that from your creator?” That’s pretty heavy, even by sci-fi standards. I don’t think people of faith want to go see “religious” movies. Like any good moviegoer, they want to be challenged. They want to know that popular filmmakers are taking the idea of God seriously.They want to hear good questions. And, for a generation increasingly wary of religion and its role in the public sphere, people are being asked to ponder these questions in the last place they’d expect; a dark and crowded theater, as they sit down to watch the latest Hollywood blockbuster.