Heaven Is for Real

Yesterday I saw Heaven Is for Real, starring Connor Corum and Greg Kinnear.

Colton Burpo (Corum) is an adorable four-year-old boy with a preacher, Todd, (Kinnear) for a father. Though the family struggles financially, they cherish what's most important: family and God.

After a particularly rough patch, Colton's appendix ruptures and his chances of survival are in danger. Todd questions his faith and his wife Sonja (Kelly Reilly) does her best to keep it together. Thankfully, Colton pulls through, but after he returns home, he begins talking about the supernatural experiences he had while he was in the operating room, including a visit to heaven.

At first, Todd assumes it's just his imagination, but when Colton begins telling him things about the family that he has never previously known, Todd is understandably rattled.

The town questions Colton's story; Sonja grows tired of Todd's obsession with it and the media descends on their close-knit community.

This is all, of course, based on the true events of the real-life Burpo family. We just get the highlights here, but I can imagine the circus it must have been when the real incidents happened.

Kinnear is easily believable as the sincere, conflicted Todd, and sweet little Corum clearly has a future on the big screen ahead of him.

In fact all of the performances were great—even those of supporting characters like Margo Martindale, who are only there to serve borderline-stereotypical purposes.

The film is enjoyable to watch, especially if you're open to the fact that Colton may really have met Jesus, etc. But aside from the cookie-cutter way the series of events is portrayed, there's not a whole lot to it.

I would've liked to see more "heaven" and explore more of why such a decent, hard-working family was struggling so much.

But for what it is, it was fine.

~~~

The Tree of Life

On Sunday, I saw The Tree of Life, starring Brad Pitt and Hunter McCracken.

This is a film to walk into without expectations, and I wish I'd had that luxury.

I'd heard that I would love it; I'd heard that I would hate it. I'd heard that I would know what it feels like to be a baby, then a young boy. I was told my faith would be challenged. None of that turned out to be remotely true.

I didn't love this movie, but I most certainly didn't hate it—there is too much magic present for that to happen. It stirred intense emotions within me, though while it was doing so I was lamenting the fact it was about an hour too long.

I was impressed by Brad Pitt and Hunter McCracken, who play father and son. I was annoyed by Jessica Chastain (Mom), who seemed always to be running or floating or crying on her sad little suburban street.

I was disappointed that Sean Penn's appearance was so brief, and wondered why the grown-up version of his character was even there.

I was amazed by the beauty of what I was witnessing on-screen: the stars forming; rivers with dinosaurs jumping about; a beautiful baby giggling and cooing; a gorgeous, old tree our symbol of life throughout.

There are a dozen different ways this film could be interpreted—some feasible, others reaching. So I'll just express how I experienced it and wonder if anyone else felt the same way...

I believe the entire movie was meant to show God's perspective.

I believe we were watching the story of one family because most of us could relate to that in the easiest way (and the director's childhood was apparently similar to that of the film's young hero).

I believe it was meant to be a conversation by humans asking God why life is filled with such pain.

I believe it was meant to show that God's plan is merely a cycle and we're all just in each part of it temporarily.

I believe it was meant to show that God sometimes experiences life with us, which is why we must hurt.

I believe it was meant to show that God sees the world in whatever way He chooses: through his own eyes, through those of a child, or via a guilt-ridden adult.

I believe God is meant to be represented as an entity or simply as another branch of nature.

I believe it is up to us to decide.

~~~

Saint of 9/11

Tonight I saw Saint of 9/11, a documentary about FDNY Chaplain Mychal Judge.

I attended a special screening made up of movie club members and guests from our own Seattle PD. I'm convinced it was the best possible way I could've spent the 5th anniversary of the attack on our country. 'Anniversary' is the wrong word, but I'm at a loss for a good synonym on this somber night.

The mood was quiet before the movie began. It might have been my imagination, but I'll swear people were more polite as they were searching for seats and settling in. The SIFF representative welcomed the audience, said a few words (folks clapped for our guests from the PD) and the lights went down. Not one peep of noise was heard for the next 95 minutes.

Father Mychal Judge was an Irish boy that grew up in New York. His father died at a young age and he and his two sisters were raised by his mother. He was always a life-loving, kind, sweet soul.

At a young age, he knew his calling was to serve God, so he began religious studies in the Franciscan order. After he became a priest, he struggled with alcoholism and his sexual orientation.

He remained a closeted homosexual out of respect for the church that he so loved, but trusted his close friends and associates with the truth. Over time, he became more open about his sexuality because he realized it humanized him in the eyes of the people.

Anecodotes and stories about his life were provided by friends, churchgoers, firefighters, politicians, priests, nuns and street people. Gay and straight, black and white. All of them mentioned his kind spirit, his sense of humor and his compassion for the poor.

An AIDS activist remembered how sad it was when the virus was still an unknown killer in the early 80s. Victims of it were isolated by friends and family in their final days for fear of spreading or catching it. Father Judge visited all of them, without protective masks or gloves and even kissed them and massaged their feet. He administered the Last Rites to dying homosexuals and spoke at their funerals with tenderness and pride for their accomplishments in life.

He was a loyal member of Alcoholics Anonymous and was 23 years sober when he was laid to rest.

He counseled families for months following the airplane crash of flight 800.

He worshiped with the gay Catholic group 'Dignity.'

He acquired winter coats for the homeless each year by persuading shop owners to give him discounts or not charge him at all, and delivered them in his official FDNY vehicle.

This hero was the first recorded death in New York City on September 11, 2001.

Footage of his September 10, 2001 sermon is played throughout the film and prior readings are told by narrator Ian McKellan.

Father Judge spoke of God's Kingdom of Heaven becoming bright with beautiful souls after devastating tragedies that capture many good lives all at once.

I can think of no one more deserving for the title of Saint than Father Mychal Judge.