#movie #horror #filmanalysis #theology #JacquesEllul #Christmas #Advent

“Anna and the Apocalypse” made a small splash in public awareness around 2017 for being one of the boldest (if not bizarre) genre mashups to date: a zombie horror Christmas musical tragicomedy.

The summary on IMDB reads as follows: “A zombie apocalypse threatens the sleepy town of Little Haven – at Christmas – forcing Anna and her friends to fight, slash and sing their way to survival, facing the undead in a desperate race to reach their loved ones. But they soon discover that no one is safe in this new world, and with civilization falling apart around them, the only people they can truly rely on are each other.”

Some have described this film as “Shaun of the Dead” (another zombie comedy film) meets “High School Musical” (the greatest musical of all time. Don't even try to debate me). I re-watched the film this year, and something about it really resonated with me. Upon second viewing, I was able to get over the initial shock of a zombie Christmas musical and actually engage with how the horror and musical genres coalesce to communicate the themes within the narrative and character arcs. In a fascinating way, two of the most predictable and gaudy genres work together to create a new form of apocalyptic art.

The word apocalypse is often thrown around to refer to the end of the world, but that's not necessarily what apocalypse means. In the biblical sense, apocalypse means a revelation. It's as if the curtain of reality is pulled back, and one sees into the divine realm, such as the heavenly host, spiritual warfare, etc. However, there is a tangential connection to the “end of the world” because often such revelations show how the present order of the world is coming to an end. For example, in “Shaun of the Dead,” zombies are used to depict the apocalypse of falling in love and how such an apocalyptic revelation can upend one's life, resulting in the rearrangement of how one is currently living. One receives a glimpse into a new type of modality (being in love), and this results in the present order of life coming to an end.

In “Anna and the Apocalypse,” the zombie outbreak is symbolic of the apocalypse of leaving one's hometown (and especially doing this while transitioning out of high school). Anna is a high school senior who lives with her single father after her mother passed away. After graduation, she plans on taking a year to travel the world instead of going off to university. However, her dad is livid about this decision and is instead insistent upon her following a more conventional life path.

The characters who survive the film are the ones who desire to escape the suffocation of their hometown: Steph, a lesbian woman whose concerns about the marginalized are dismissed, while at the same time being neglected and not accepted by her parents. The other survivor, besides Anna, is a young man, Nick, who has an abusive father. Conversely, the characters who die are the ones who wish to stay in their hometown. In this sense, the zombies are symbolic of the forces that keep one tethered to the sluggish suburban sprawl of “sleepy” hometowns that can zap aspirations or, in the case of minority groups, such as our queer character Steph, create oppressive conditions and even violence.

I must admit how impressed I am with how much work is done by the film's genre form. There’s a sense in which this movie is over-saturated by form. The characters and the narrative cannot escape the duel oppression of both the horror genre and the musical genre. Interestingly enough, this also turns so many people off from enjoying the film. It combines many elements that people would not like. There are many who cannot tolerate musicals for their cheesy and unrealistic and predictable structure. And there are many who cannot tolerate the horror genre for its display of the grotesque. But within the over-saturation of form, the very content of the film emerges. Just like the film cannot escape the clichés and rigorous structure of its dual genre, neither can the characters escape the suffocation of their hometown. Both horror films and musicals are prone to feeling “unrealistic,” which makes them harder to enjoy for viewers who prefer being more fully immersed in the movie they are watching. But in a similar vein, many of the characters within the film feel as if the life they currently live is unrealistic, and they feel as if they cannot be fully immersed within it. The way in which the form alienates many viewers reflects the alienation experienced by the characters within the narrative.

However, this film is, importantly, also a Christmas movie. Some commentators have objected that Christmas doesn't have much to do with the movie, but rather that the narrative just happens to fall on Christmas Day. But I disagree. Christmas spirit is an essential liberating force for the characters that allows them to hold onto hope and keep pressing on. When Anna's father is bitten by a zombie and she must say her final goodbye, he tells her, “Merry Christmas, Anna.” Symbolically, this is Anna's father finally accepting that she will move on and travel the world — that she will leave her hometown. Additionally, Anna's weapon of choice that enables her to fend off zombies successfully is a giant candy cane, which I take to be symbolic of her harnessing the power of Christmas. And furthermore, snow falling (the presence of Christmas spirit) often happens when the characters rediscover hope — such as in the final scene of the film.

To be clear: I don't mean “Christmas spirit” in a generic, Hallmark movie sense. Rather, I think the Christmas spirit at work in this film is the hope of Advent. In his book “Hope in a Time of Abandonment,” the theologian and philosopher Jacques Ellul argues that hope is not the absence of despair but rather a choice of faith made in the midst of despair. However, for Ellul, this choice is not vague, wishful thinking, but rather a recollection and proclamation of the promises given through God's self-revelation. Hope is thus holding onto the promises of God, grounded in the revelation of Christ, even during times in which God feels absent. A powerful illustration of this hope is the Advent narrative found within the New Testament. Mary chooses to give birth to and raise the Christ child even though the brutal reign of the Roman Empire seems omnipotent and her personal situation of poverty and potential social ostracization seem inevitable and unjust. In a sense, there is a resonance between the characters of Mary and Anna: both choose an apocalyptic hope even though the material circumstances around them are bleak.

Lyrics from the song “I Will Believe” from the movie:

As I look back over my yesterdays
I was so sure, certain I'd find my way
But now the world is such a different place
All of my dreams are gone without a trace

Where is the light that used to shine?
Oh, where is the life that once was mine?
But while there's hope, while I still breathe
I will believe

There was a time nothing could hold us back
Our days were bright before this earth turned black
But now my faith feels like a distant ghost
I lost the things I used to need the most

Where is the light that used to shine?
Where is the life that once was mine?
But while there's hope, while I still breathe
I will believe

All of a sudden the blood in my veins runs cold
Thinkin' about all the days that I just let go
If I had reckoned the seconds would slip from me
I'd have paid twice for the price of the memory
For the memory

Where is the light that used to shine?
Oh, where is the life that once was mine?
But while there's hope, while I still breathe
I will believe
But while there's hope, while I still breathe
I will believe

A Theological Reflection on “A Charlie Brown Christmas” (1965)

#analysis #art #film #theology #advent #consumerism

I’ve always loved the Charlie Brown Christmas special for how beautiful it is. It has a pacing that doesn't rush but is simply allowed to linger— a pacing that breaks through the hyperspeed of our accelerated society. The form of the pacing and the themes of finding Advent in the midst of chaotic commercialism perfectly coalesce, creating a masterpiece of animation that stands the test of time. For most of my life, I simply enjoyed the show's artistry, but in recent years, I've come to appreciate the beauty of its themes and message.

Through the simplified art and gorgeous music, the episode captures a sacredness of the everyday: catching snowflakes on one's tongue, ice skating, throwing snowballs at a can — these moments are lifted in a peaceful glimpse of the sacred. In a way, it harkens the same energy as Mister Rogers' Neighborhood: slow pacing with an underlying spirit of wonder and gratitude for life. An appreciation of the sacred everyday stands in contrast to the foreboding consumerism that lingers in the background and haunts Charlie Brown. Despite the sacred moments happening around him, Charlie Brown seems to be absent from such experiences. Instead, he dejectedly saunters through his town, bearing the existential weight of capitalist-driven alienation, asking himself: “What is the true meaning of Christmas?”

He knows the answer does not lie in commercialism, which is portrayed through his little sister's letter to Santa: “Just send cash. How about 10s and 20s?” Lucy comes a tad bit closer to the meaning of Christmas, such as when she invites Charlie Brown to participate in the Christmas pageant. However, as she readily admits, her real ambitions are capitalist accumulation (“Santa never brings me what I really want... real estate”) and her desire to be the “Christmas Queen” in a pageant permeated with commercial trappings. Charlie Brown rejects both of these modalities.

Though Charlie Brown is well aware of the Advent Story from scripture, he has yet to connect with the theological meaning behind the story—i.e., with the revelation of God in Christ. Like much of our secular age, for Charlie Brown, religious acts are severed from their higher, sacred meaning or perhaps overshadowed by commercialism's chaos. It is not until he goes on his quest to find a Christmas tree that he encounters the shocking reality of the sacred.

What I love about this scene is how vastness and magnitude of sacred sublimity is found within a humble tree. It's like the scripture passage from Isaiah 53:2, “He had no form or majesty that we should look at him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him.” What is beautiful about the tree is not its opulence, but how real it is. Within a landscape of artificial aluminum trees, Charlie stumbles upon a remnant of a more honest Creation, as if he is Moses encountering the burning bush. Charlie Brown has yet to find the words to express his experience, but he returns to the pageant and Advent Story with what he discovered, with an experiential connection to the deeper meaning of Advent.

I find it particularly beautiful how the creators portray Charlie Brown’s love for that little tree. Not only is the tree an encounter with the sacredness of an authentic Advent, but the tree is also a projection of Charlie Brown himself, which is why he is so drawn to it. Though it’s not perfect, that tree is still better than the fake aluminum trees. It’s better because it’s real and authentic, rather than the contrived and manufactured trees in the dazzling advertisements of consumerism.

When Charlie Brown returns to the pageant, we get a heartbreaking scene as people laugh at his tree (the way they laugh at him personally). The tree doesn’t conform to the image that was marketed to them. Just like Charlie Brown is marginalized and humiliated, so is this little tree. As Isaiah 53 goes on to say, “He was despised and rejected by others; a man of suffering and acquainted with infirmity, and as one from whom others hide their faces he was despised, and we held him of no account.”

In this context, Linus reading from the Gospel of Luke takes on a whole new meaning. I've heard some Christians interpret this moment as merely a declaration that “Jesus is the reason for the season” rather than Santa Claus or consumerism. Of course, as a Christian, I believe Christmas is about God rather than commodities, and I don't want to dissuade people from focusing on Christ. But too often, this sort of interpretation falls into the “war on Christmas” ideological ploys rather than a serious engagement with capitalism. Furthermore, I think the “Jesus is the reason for the season” interpretation misses the broader meaning of the scripture within the context of the narrative.

In Luke, angels announce the birth of Christ to a group of poor shepherds who are quite literally on the outskirts of town and on the outskirts of society. The author of Luke included this story in keeping with his general theme that Christ came to seek and save the lost — those who are poor, oppressed, and on the margins of society. The shocking and magnificent eruption of divine revelation as the heavenly host bring the message of the messiah is presented, not to a king, but to humble shepherds. Just like the shepherds, Charlie Brown is on the outside of society—consistently marginalized and humiliated by his peers. After hearing the Gospel reading, Charlie Brown recognizes that God's love for the outsiders and marginalized applies to him as well.

In a newfound sense of personal worth, Charlie Brown is able to accept himself and accept the little tree. He is able to believe that his tree (and he himself!) is beautiful, despite what others might think. The Gospel proclamation helps make sense of Charlie's experience of finding the sacred within such a meek tree. After witnessing both the Gospel presentation and Charlie Brown’s reception, his friends repent and realize how wrong they were to bully and ridicule him. They even recognize the beauty of Charlie Brown’s tree (and Charlie himself): “I never did think it was such a bad little tree. It’s not bad at all, really. Maybe it just needs a little love.” Charlie Brown’s tree was always beautiful, and the support of his friends help make it even more so. The episode ends with a rendition of “Hark the Herald Angels Sing,” a song that encapsulates the Gospel reading. God's Kingship is found in a humble baby, who reconciles the lost to God — a reconciliation experienced by Charlie Brown and his peers.