IT COULD BE OBVIOUS

By David Beilstein

IT could appear obvious I find movies more than enjoyable. One cannot love impersonal things, sure - but if one could - I would be pretty close to loving cinema and commercial movies.

I always have, going back to when I was a small child. I still remember my parents not owning a VCR in the 1980s and renting the laserdiscs. Once they rented the movie Patton. I was astonished and drawn in by the entire film. The writing, photography; the performances. And then there was seeing the Star Wars, The Empire Strikes Back sometime in the early 80’s at the drive-in. Seeing Empire changed me; something about the film made the entire enterprise of moviemaking make sense. At the time, I’m not sure I understood what a movie was. But whatever it was, in my eyes, it was something more than special.

Movies have always captured the visceral aspects of life - the conflict inherent in the most ordinary life, metaphorically. A severe conflict with health and normalcy surrounded my existence from the time I can remember. And so much of that experience I went through, remember, was of a stark, visual quality. The good times and the bad times, both. Such realities naturally impressed upon me an ever-moving narrative to my own experience - of frame-by-frame developments; of who I was, and who I was becoming - or, what was happening to me.

As such, it should not surprise too many I am currently biding time in film school. A little late, but better late than never.

If I have learned anything, it is coming to place where one admits they do not know very much is essential to getting to that place to understand something intimately. When I entered film school, I knew a lot about writing; I had a theory of filmmaking. I had a basic road map of the type of thematic and stories I wanted to tell. But I knew little of the actual process of making a film. If anything, I knew nothing. I knew what I thought was a good performance, great writing. But putting it together professionally?

Not me.

I would say at this point, Lighting I and Lighting II have meant the most to my development of understanding movies from the inside. Video or film, lighting is primary in what makes a movie, eh, look like a movie. And it is lighting that gives each film its individual tone and look.

Seems obvious; I know. Before I came to film school, I would have assumed some of this knowledge. I would have been able to tick off a dozen or so cinematographers whom I admired - their films they lit and photographed personal favorites. Richardson comes to mind, Deakins - a host of others.

But directors consumed my mind. And directors can be essential. Fincher comes to mind, Hitchcock, Ford, Hawks, Capra, Coppola, Scorsese, etc. 

But goodness, I did not know how important lighting, the tool of the cinematographer uses, is. Lighting has taken on such an importance, it now finds a prominent role in even the contemplation of a screenplay idea I’m working through. It is the foundation of mood and character, essential to the universe the prose of screenplay writing must declare. And it would seem to me, then, coming into the corridor of a new skill set; being comfortable not knowing it, is the beginning of really knowing something well.

This was counter-intuitive to me. I have always been somewhat modest. Ready and willing to boast I was terrible at math, but good at communication skills. Hence, around other film students, it was easy to declare lighting was not my thing. This shut me down at first. Then, in the providence of the mightiest God, I began to see… to listen. To learn. The technical elements of lighting are beyond me - but I know far more than I used to know and I know lighting is a must. To ignore lighting, is to ignore central elements of the filmmaking process. It’s why home movies seem bland - giving off the patina of the unprofessional, and certainly not theatrical looking.

Same goes for still pictures.

The same seems to appear true for things one knows well. I have always loved writing. When I discovered films were written too, when small, I latched onto that as a great way of telling remarkably interesting stories. When I was young, I was prestigiously envious of those who could draw and illustrate. I cannot draw to save my life. This angered me when young. Still, I got good at writing stories, achieving high marks in creative writing classes, and impressing peers and teachers. But I wanted to see those stories I wrote, visually - come to life. Movies! One does not need to draw when the camera does it for you…

Therefore, when I took the storytelling class in film school, I knew much more about screenwriting than many of the students in the class. No pats on the shoulder please. As I soon learned that I missed some important things. Things, which, come to find out, helped me achieve better storytelling results. Things of such importance, but seemingly small details, I was amiss on.

It was a humbling experience. There are folks who know more than you; they are the gatekeepers to enriching one’s own skills. In consequence, inexperience should be wade into, if only, to become better, more adroit, at a particular skill.

I’m a confessional Presbyterian. A Christian. Movies may appear to be a strange fascination for the Christian saint. This is a widely held misconception; for Christians appeal to the greatest visual story ever told. One immensely visual; the dramatic work in real history of the triune God. The cultural angst among too many Christians concerning secular storytelling, and it’s concern for the flesh and blood of humans; is, conversely, entirely unchristian. It was Dr JI Packer who once said, Christianity is the true humanism.

Cinema, above so many art forms, brings all those humanistic elements of art into one medium. A medium telling a single story of human frailty, imperfection, and glory - as examined in Psalm 8. Christ instituted visible signs of bread and wine for His Church; a sign and seal of Christ’s immeasurable grace. Thus, the work of cinema is immensely human - like eating and drinking. The motivation of the Christian may differ from the non-believing filmmaker - but the importance of the art form, of all art forms, (when done right) is universal.

And it should become clear. Christians need not ignore the nature of filmmaking in order to partake of it. Christian movies, Christian video games, etc. Nonsense. That is The Law; it wars against the Christian saint in Christ through the Holy Gospel, and it mitigates against  the nature of filmmaking creationally. We do not realise things truefully and honestly by ignoring the nature of things, and use of God created forms. If one is to peek-a-boo through the pages of Holy Scripture, we will find the most brutally honest dramatic story of human beings - of God Himself, decreeing it all, for His own Glory and His incomprehensible ordaining of history. 

Thus, to use film to create worlds opposed to the dramatic story of Sacred Scripture is entirely contrary to obedience to Christ. Babylon is Babylon; it must be portrayed dramatically for what it is, else the filmmaker who is Christian has utterly failed his mandate. He has shaped and created fiction; the worst kind of fiction. For it fails to portray the world as is; it’s retched sin, it’s sufferings, and it’s glories.

The human search, amidst man’s enmity toward God continues - until the age to come descends upon humanity, by Christ Himself.

Hollywood, then, does not need Christian films - as if there is such a thing. They need trueful films. Ones teeming with the vagaries of human existence this side of the age to come; becoming accurate imitations of the universal conflicts and drama inherent in our humanity. It is through metaphor, and dramatic complexity, - without saying it didactically - that ushers in the greatest plausible testimony for Christianity movies can offer.