2 After six days Jesus took Peter, James and John with him and led them up a high mountain, where they were all alone. There he was transfigured before them. 3 His clothes became dazzling white, whiter than anyone in the world could bleach them. 4 And there appeared before them Elijah and Moses, who were talking with Jesus.
5 Peter said to Jesus, “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here. Let us put up three shelters—one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah.” 6 (He did not know what to say, they were so frightened.)
7 Then a cloud appeared and covered them, and a voice came from the cloud: “This is my Son, whom I love. Listen to him!”
8 Suddenly, when they looked around, they no longer saw anyone with them except Jesus.
9 As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus gave them orders not to tell anyone what they had seen until the Son of Man had risen from the dead.
In the Maltese Falcon (1941), detective Sam Spade deals with “three unscrupulous adventurers who compete to obtain a fabulous jewel-encrusted statuette of a falcon.” Skip Casablanca and see this instead.
In Sunset Boulevard (1950), screenwriter Joe Gillis tries to manage Norma Desmond, “a faded silent movie star who draws him into her fantasy world of making a triumphant return.” Gloria Swanson’s Norma is perhaps the greatest performance in all of film.
In Chinatown (1974), detective Jake Gittes embarks on what seems a simple case of cheating to discover that people will kill to bring fresh water to L.A. Note: this is the greatest film every made.
In Who Framed Roger Rabbit (1988) the studio hires detective Eddie Valiant to follow femme fatale Jessica Rabbit and he uncovers a vast plot to eliminate streetcars and replace them with freeways. The Toronto update goes from streetcars to subways.
Four films, and four examples of film noir, Hollywood’s best contribution to film, and the genre that has successfully reinvented itself decade after decade.
Film noir most often involves a cynical or world-weary protagonist who usually sees the truth before it becomes obvious to everyone else. There is a femme fatale, a woman with some element of mystery who may or may not pose a risk to our hero. There are crooked cops and corrupt politicians, worthy adversaries who drive the plot forward. Many characters in film noir seem doomed, even our protagonist at times, and they serve to reinforce the sense of hopelessness in the story. And there is generally betrayal, someone turns on our hero to help produce an ambiguous ending.
If all this sounds familiar, perhaps you have seen one of countless examples of the genre, or maybe you’ve been reading your Bible. Even a passing glance at the Gospels will produce to sense that this genre was predicted in the past, maybe even formed in the unfolding story of the Jesus.
The cynical overlay begins early. John the Baptist, in pure noir narration (another feature) greets the people with “Who told you to flee from the wrath to come?” Nathanael hasn’t even met Jesus yet, and already he says “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Even Jesus seems to have a cynical moment when he asks the Caananite woman “is it good to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs?”
There is at least one obvious femme fatale in the Gospels, although much of this understanding may be owing to medieval misinterpretation. All scholars agree that Mary Magdalene was not a prostitute, but her role among the disciples is at least suggestive. There seems to some kind of unique bond to Jesus, beginning when he casts out seven demons from her, and ending at the passion when she becomes the chief mourner.
Of crooked cops and corrupt politicians, I need only point to the Pharisees, the religious cops of the day, and their constant attempts to set a trap for Jesus. They misinterpret his words and actions, and happily spread misinformation to further their campaign against Jesus. As for corrupt politicians, look no further than Pontius Pilate, who finds nothing treasonable in Jesus' actions, yet washes his hands of the whole situation and sends Jesus to his death.
There are a number of people who seemed doomed, who pass through the Gospels as human wreckage. The rich young man who cannot surrender his wealth to follow Jesus, ungrateful lepers, and demoniacs who attempt to flee away at the sight of Jesus. His parables also describe those who become their own worst enemy: the rich man with Lazarus, the older brother, and those who cannot feed or clothe or visit those in great need.
And of course, betrayal. In the most noir moment in the Gospel, Judas comes to Jesus by night and betrays him with a kiss. Jesus is arrested, and the betrayer makes off with 30 pieces of silver, the first and most notorious example of blood money. But like all good film noir, the act is ambigious, since some claim that Jesus puts Judas up to it, that Jesus trusted Judas above all the others to carry through with the act that would lead to the cross, and ultimately the foundation of our faith.
I don’t know what else I can add to convince you that the Gospels are an early and fine example of film noir, worthy of Sam Spade and Eddie Valiant. But maybe I can’t in the end, because the Gospel writers add one element that on it’s own inoculates the Jesus story against noir: The Transfiguration.
But before I say more about transfiguration, I want to remind you of part of the cynical overlay found in the beginning of John’s Gospel. The narrative begins with the most dramatic cosmic flourish, the Word present at creation’s birth, then dramatically falls to earth:
19 Now this was John’s testimony when the Jewish leaders[c] in Jerusalem sent priests and Levites to ask him who he was. 20 He did not fail to confess, but confessed freely, “I am not the Messiah.”
21 They asked him, “Then who are you? Are you Elijah?”
He said, “I am not.”
“Are you the Prophet?”
He answered, “No.”
22 Finally they said, “Who are you? Give us an answer to take back to those who sent us. What do you say about yourself?”
23 John replied in the words of Isaiah the prophet, “I am the voice of one calling in the wilderness, ‘Make straight the way for the Lord.’”
43 The next day Jesus decided to leave for Galilee. Finding Philip, he said to him, “Follow me.”
44 Philip, like Andrew and Peter, was from the town of Bethsaida. 45 Philip found Nathanael and told him, “We have found the one Moses wrote about in the Law, and about whom the prophets also wrote—Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph.”
46 “Nazareth! Can anything good come from there?” Nathanael asked.
The cynics are looking for a new Elijah and a new Moses, and they will suspend judgment on this Jesus until they see whether he is a prophet worthy of the two greatest prophets in the history of their faith. Back to noir, with rapid-fire dialogue and a world-weary edge, these people are going to cling to the belief that Moses and Elijah may never return. How could they, against such a sinful generation and the power of Rome?
2 After six days Jesus took Peter, James and John with him and led them up a high mountain, where they were all alone. There he was transfigured before them. 3 His clothes became dazzling white, whiter than anyone in the world could bleach them. 4 And there appeared before them Elijah and Moses, who were talking with Jesus.
7 Then a cloud appeared and covered them, and a voice came from the cloud: “This is my Son, whom I love. Listen to him!”
The light is whiter that any known bleach, a dazzling light that arrests the imagination and overcomes even the most cynical follower. Amid the equally white cloud comes a voice, blessing this son that God loves, but issuing the command to listen. Is there any other way to defeat a cynic? Only the voice of God will convince the most hardened cynic, and God provides.
But is it enough to say that the Gospels were never really noir in the first place? Or to say they have elements of noir, but the pure light of God defeats it in the end?
Just a week after Jesus’ resurrection, arguably the most hope-filled week in human history, when word of the end of death is spreading among all those who were caught up in trial and cross, we hear these words: “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.”
And film noir begins again. So maybe the premise of all that I have said this morning is wrong. Maybe it is not the Gospels presented in perfect noir, but all of human living. Perhaps the suspension of disbelief requires no suspension at all, since we are living the cinema every day. We are world-weary protagonists, with corrupt public officials and a cynical population, looking for the smallest ray of hope in an ambiguous and often dangerous world.
Then a cloud appeared and covered them, and a voice came from the cloud: “This is my Son, whom I love. Listen to him!” The cloud remains, and the light is often dimmed, but the message is eternal, if we only listen to him.
This is good news, thanks be to God.
posted by michael jacob kooiman @ 2:41 PM
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