Shortly after we started this series of blog posts on how to engage with problematic films, I came across a comment from Josh, one of our readers, essentially calling us out in the best possible way. Here’s what he wrote:
The thing that get's me in this particular post is the idea of movies being "unhealthy", and causing people to "stumble." You're the reviewer, you get to throw out the ideas you have about whether a movie is good for Christians to watch, or not. But you're exposing yourself to this entertainment as well. So, does the unhealthiness apply to you? Do you even watch the movies, or read other reviews? And, if you watch the movies, why is it ok for you to watch un-Christian kinds of things? Is it for the pure reason of critiquing things to be sure others don't see it? I find this dichotomy kind of strange. Why not just let [people] watch, as you're doing, and decide for themselves, as you're doing?
It’s a fantastic question—one I’d be asking myself if I was in the audience. What gives you the right to do what you do and then say what you say? Are we being hypocritical—like a fat-and-happy medieval taster with no assassins in sight? (“The filet mignon tastes a little funny, king … I’ll polish it off just to make sure it’s OK.”) Or, worse, are we risking our own spiritual health to do this job? I mean, if we’re right in saying that A) movies can be unhealthy and B) affect everyone, and then C) watch a lot of them, we’ll naturally feel some ill effects, right? And if so, why do it?
The answer is both simple and complex—and I hope that, when we finish, you’ll have some tools to help in your own movie-watching. So let’s start simple:
We do this job because we feel that someone should. Some of us call it a calling. Others a desire. I’ve even heard the word compulsion thrown around once or twice. But all of us have made a decision to put ourselves in a particular place to do a job that we think God wants us to do.
We’ve already talked about the fact that Christians, whether they should watch problematic movies or not, often do. And since they do, we want to give them as much information as we can. Some compare us to watchers on the wall—a comparison with which, frankly, I’ve never been wholly at ease. I mean, I review movies for a living: Whatever risks I take aren’t comparable to those taken by soldiers or policemen or society’s real watchers.
But there is, I think, a bit of metaphorical truth there. See, we really do believe films can harm us—not like an arrow to the knee would, but more like mold in the basement. So maybe we should be thought of as a little like home inspectors: We tromp around and look for problems. And if we find ’em, we tell you. And we think of it as a pretty important job (if not all that glamorous).
Like pockets of mold, movies aren’t particularly picky about who they attack/annoy. No home inspector is (as far as I’m aware) born with mold-proof lungs. Neither are Plugged In reviewers blessed with Teflon-coated minds from which negative content simply slides off. We’re affected by films just like everyone else is. And perhaps one of the reasons we believe that movies do influence us is that we’ve seen that influence in our own lives—both in our experience before we took this job … and after.
But just as a home inspector might slap on a mask or respirator when checking out a suspicious basement, we have tools at our disposal, too. By sharing them here, we hope they might help you navigate your own problematic movies.
1. We pray. Working at a Christian ministry, prayer is a pretty regular part of our workday. We’re always asking for God’s help and blessing in what we do, and when we’re assigned a particularly problematic movie we ask for extra protection. I think it helps—both because God hears our prayers, and because the act of praying helps us focus on the task at hand: It reminds us that we’re not watching the film for our own benefit, but for yours and (hopefully) His. We can’t afford to let y’all down.
I kinda think that whenever we pray, it helps remind us that we Christians are a little different: We’re God’s, not the world’s, and we’re not supposed to be too terribly comfortable around here. We serve up a reminder whenever we serve a meal and say Grace. And if it’s natural for us to pray before we consume a plateful of food, it also seems entirely appropriate that we would do so before consuming a two-hour movie. Prayer not only welcomes God into our presence, it reminds us that He’s there already.
2. We take notes. Sure, we take notes primarily so we can write accurate reviews. But there’s more at work here. We reviewers wage a two-front conflict regarding the movies we see: On one side, we risk being overwhelmed by the content (growing ever more miserable). On the other, we risk becoming desensitized (growing ever more cynical). The act of note-taking allows us to distance ourselves a bit from what we see. (It’s hard to get too emotionally involved with a disembowelment when you’re physically, clinically writing, “horrifying disembowelment.”) And it reminds us that the content we’re documenting is, well, problematic. If it wasn’t we wouldn’t be writing it down, and that keeps us from excusing the issues we see.
And even if you forget your pen in the car (as some of us have from time to time), you can take mental notes of what you see: Concentrate on (as I wrote last Friday) whatever seems to be worthwhile in the film, but don’t let the language or violence just wash over you either. See it not as something to forget or to obsess over, but for what it is: a problem.
3. We outwardly process what we see. For me, this is the silver cross worn to ward off cinematic vampires, if you will. The process of pounding out a review allows me to really grapple with what I’ve seen—the good and the bad. That helps me both enjoy and appreciate a given film more. But it also helps me sift through whatever might’ve bothered me, too. Or what should’ve bothered me. It’s like therapy.
There’s a reason why, when you go to a therapist, you spend most of your time talking. Just the act of regurgitating what’s rolling around in our brains helps us deal with our lives and experiences. And make no mistake, we all “experience” movies. When you go to one, try not to go alone if you can help it—and set aside time to talk about what you’ve seen. Grab a coffee or dinner and delve into the movie’s messages. Recount the funny lines. Pick apart the plot a little. It’s fun and helpful. And if you can’t talk with someone about what you’ve seen, I’d encourage you to actually put pen to paper—or fingers to keyboard—and write about it. Whatever you do, don’t let the movie just sit in your noggin like a curio: Pick it up. Squeeze it. Dissect it.
4. We regroup … and if need be, reject. One of the most insidious ways films affect us is by pushing us toward a new sense of “normal.” See enough sexual promiscuity onscreen, and there’s a chance you might think that casual sex is quite normal after all—and you start wondering whether your promise ring makes you freakish. Hear loads of f-words in films, and eventually those same words start to slip into your conversations if not counteracted. It’s just common sense: We’re influenced by those we spend time with. And most of us spend lots of time with movies. (TV, music and video games are part of this picture, too, of course.)
So how do we keep the undesirable elements we see in those films from eventually looking normal or desirable to us? We hang out with people who push back on those elements. At Plugged In, obviously, I spend much of my workday with folks who share my values, and we talk about those values all the time. If I ever started thinking, “Wow, all that casual sexuality I saw in The Five-Year Engagement felt so right!” I’d have a whole bevy of influencers who’d beg to differ.
As influential as movies can be, our friends and family can be far, far more influential. People move us more than pictures.
This post is the third in a series. Feel free to click on these related posts:
Sorting Out the Good, the Bad and the Excellent
Getting to the Very Art of the Matter
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