When February 29th viewings backfire

For the fourth time, I have chosen the arrival of another February 29th as the occasion to watch “the worst movie I can find.” The tradition started when I happened to watch the remake of The Wicker Man on February 29th of 2008, then decided to make a thing of it with Howard the Duck in 2012 and Manos: The Hands of Fate in 2016.

None of those films were disappointments in terms of the desired outcome. Each were awful in their own special way, offering howls of laughter and/or disbelief. Only Manos may actually be among the 20 worst films I’ve ever seen, but the candidacy of the others for an extremely rarely reoccurring series like this one was clear.

Well, in 2020, I’ve screwed it all up.

I didn’t have an obvious candidate leap (no pun intended) to mind this year, so I polled the good people at my Flickchart Facebook group. I had scanned the dregs of the global rankings on Flickchart for titles I hadn’t seen, and presented them with a list of choices, saying I would watch the one that got the most votes. They included such personal blind spots as Glitter, The Love Guru, Chairman of the Board, Alone in the Dark, Crossroads and Leonard Part 6. From Justin to Kelly was leading when I stopped counting the votes on the poll.

But I'd also given them the option to add a choice in the comments below, knowing of course that they'd have little idea what I had and had not already seen. This is how a groundswell of support for a different movie started. One commenter mentioned Christian Mingle, a 2014 film starring Lacey Chabert and directed by Corbin Bernsen, whose title I had heard come up in similar contexts in this group before.

Then the choice was seconded. Then the choice was thirded. And so on. I don't know if it actually ended up with more votes than From Justin to Kelly, but then again, a lot of people don't read the comments below, preferring to vote in the poll and be done with it. I decided that the crowd had spoken and had produced a choice for me that was historically bad, not just the kinds of generic misfires I had been providing them as options.

So I declared Christian Mingle the winner a month ago, the day after I posted the poll, and waited for February 29th to roll around.

I almost had to call an audible and go for From Justin to Kelly after all, as I couldn't find Christian Mingle to stream or purchase on any of the sites I regularly deal with. But lo and behold, there it was streaming on YouTube, in full, unexpurgated form -- "hidden" from those who might seek to take it down for copyright reasons, I suppose, only by having its title appear in Spanish.

Yesterday, I watched it.

And I liked the movie.

It's a risk you take any time you watch a "terrible" movie. I watched The Hottie and the Nottie for similar reasons eight or nine years ago, and I also liked The Hottie and the Nottie. Look, you can't hate every movie that most people hate, any more than you can love every movie most people love.

If you had asked me to guess why the good people at my Flickchart Facebook group had nominated Christian Mingle for my consideration -- because I did not specifically ask them -- I would have guessed the following two reasons:

1) It has a laughable execution, with terrible craft that includes, but might not be limited to, the acting, the editing, the camerawork, the song choices, and the presence of boom mics in the shots.

2) It is laughably tone deaf about how it communicates its obvious agenda of catering to a Christian audience, or possibly making believers out of those who are not.

Before I address those points individually, let me remind you of a core maxim I follow when it comes to film criticism. And that is, I meet every film on its own terms. If a movie is about ballerinas, I judge it as a movie about ballerinas. If a movie is about people who have sex with corpses, I judge it as a movie about people who have sex with corpses. I don't want to turn one into the other, and whether I am the intended audience for it or not, I need to judge it as though I were.

Christian movies are a prime example of this. If a movie is being made to speak to a Christian audience, I will try to put myself in the shoes of that audience. A movie being a Christian movie does not disqualify it from being a good movie. As one example, I am a big fan of the Kirk Cameron movie Fireproof, about a firefighter who learns to believe in God in a way that helps save his marriage. I just thought it totally worked.

Not to tarnish their good name, but I suspect the Flickcharters who nominated Christian Mingle have not seen any other Christian movies. I suspect the fact that they felt like they had walked into the wrong movie theater -- a phenomenon I am familiar with, believe me -- meant that they had a prejudice against the movie that they could never shake. Instead of giving the movie itself a fair shake, they instead sought to amass evidence that the movie was bad, rather than considering the idea that it might be good. It was guilty until proven innocent.

Of course, the reverse should also obviously be true -- just because you are trying to give a movie the benefit of the doubt does not mean it should blind you to the movie's faults. So let's consider those two categories I mentioned above.

1) Is the movie executed poorly?

No. The acting in it is fine to good. The filmmaking is workmanlike, perhaps, but never once distracts with an example of sub-par technique. The songs are Christian pop songs, but that's in keeping with an agenda that the film doesn't try to hide. It's a Christian movie, as the title quite obviously indicates, so why shouldn't it have songs about loving God? I would not expect otherwise.

I closely watched the structure of the story to see if it broke any basic rules, and there was only one I could find. The story is told from the perspective of Chabert's Gwyneth, and every moment on screen is something she could have witnessed or known about, with one exception. At one point the story feels like it's important for us to be privy to a phone conversation between the man she meets on the Christian Mingle dating website, Paul (Jonathan Patrick Moore), and his judgmental mother, played by Morgan Fairchild. This temporary and solitary break from Gwyneth's perspective should have been avoided, probably, but it's hardly reason to deduct any serious points from the movie. (As a side note, Fairchild was one of the first actresses I had the hots for when I began "noticing girls" back in the early 1980s, from seeing ads for her movie The Seduction on cable. As I was watching the movie, though, I was calling her Loni Anderson in my head, rather than remembering her actual name.)

As I read up a little on the film, I found that some people were offended by its presentation of the residents of a Mexican village -- there's a little bit of a white savior thing going on here, as there's a section featuring white Americans on a Christian mission to help restore a village that was damaged by a hurricane. But I didn't consider there to be anything egregious about this. I thought the film makes a pretty good effort to be racially inclusive, as when Gwyneth does start to find her way to God, it's through a church mostly comprised of black congregants.

So let's move on to ...

2) Is it Christian in a tone deaf way?

Here again the answer is no. A truly tone deaf movie about Christianity would make all the Christian characters unblemished heroes and all the non-Christians one-dimensional heathens. Really, though, there isn't a single unambiguously good Christian or unambiguously bad non-Christian.

So let's start with the Christians themselves. When we meet Paul, it's clear that the movie considers him a bit dorky. He's too buttoned up, he's a little awkward. When Gwyneth takes him to try sushi, he has a really hard time swallowing the bite and says he's more of a "cheese steak type of guy," or something along those lines. And I can tell from this scene that the movie is lightly critical of Paul for his closed-mindedness. This is definitely a movie that thinks sushi is good.

So then let's move to Paul's parents. His father (David Keith, looking quite larger and quite different from the last time I'd seen him) is a bit of a blowhard given to corny rhyming phrases -- his silly refrain regarding the Mexican village is "From door to door, we shall restore." At his urging, a number of parishioners go to lunch at a restaurant called Steak & Cake, where the only thing on the table is a plate of large steaks and several cakes on raised platters -- like, way more cake than the people present would need. There's no vegetables or anything. This movie is making fun of the excessive American myopia of a restaurant that serves only steak and cake, and pins that on these people who are supposed to be our "great Christian heroes."

And then let's look at Paul's mother. She is suspicious of Gwyneth from the start. (If I have not said it already, Gwyneth is a Christian in name only -- she can't remember the last time she went to church and does not know the Bible at all.) As it turns out her suspicions are warranted, but she comes across as a highly judgmental character who does not give Gwyneth really any chance at all before deciding she's hiding something. She's prissy and uptight and does not really strike one as a shining example of the type of Christianity you would expect a movie like this to be prizing.

Then there's Kel Kel (Jill Saunders), the girl Paul has known since childhood who is his obvious intended match. She represents exactly the type of Christianity Paul's mother prizes, and she wants Paul and Kelly to end up together. But it's quite obvious this movie knows Kel Kel is deficient as a character, a bit shallow and possibly even a bit backstabbing, even as she does things that have the appearance of being kind and generous. It's clear the movie doesn't think of her as a shining example of Christianity either.

Probably the closest example of the type of Christian the movie thinks is great is Gwyneth's "black friend," Pam, played by Saidah Arrika Ekulona. She works at the advertising agency with Gwyenth. And no, she doesn't always rise above the limitations of the "black friend" role, but this is hardly the only movie guilty of that. What she does do is present an alternative version of Christianity that is not in line with the religious right overtones of Paul's family. She's actually not a member of the predominantly black congregation Gwyneth joins, but rather, a "secret Christian" who only reveals her Christianity to Gwyneth when Gywneth is farther along on her journey. Gwyneth never suspected because Pam doesn't wear a crucifix necklace, to which Pam responds that that's really not her style.

The thing Christian Mingle gets right about Christianity is that there are "styles" of Christianity. You don't have to be white saviors charging into Mexico to help save a community devastated by a hurricane. You can be a non-crucifix wearing, by all accounts very hip black woman who works at an advertising agency. You can be another hip woman who works at an advertising agency who loves sushi and loves wearing spunky outfits. (Chabert's wardrobe is really great).

So let's look at the non-Christians to see how they fare.

Gwyneth has a greek chorus of secular friends who only pop up in a few scenes. They are basically supportive friends. They don't act snarky when she signs up for a Christian dating site, they just wonder if she will be revealed as not the same type of Christian that those people are looking for.

Then you've got her boss at the ad agency (Stephen Tobolowsky) and the agency's biggest client (John O'Hurley). Which, by the way, were two faces I loved seeing pop up in this movie. These characters have no idea about Gwyneth's dating life so they make no comment on her Christianity or lack thereof. They are just part of the work plot.

Still, a lesser movie would undercut these two characters who presumably have no faith. Tobolowsky, as her boss, would be particularly likely to be a dick. He's definitely eccentric -- he wears around a captain's hat as his agency is called Maritime Advertising -- and he gets (justifiably) annoyed at Gwyneth on a couple occasions when she's falling down in her duties. But ultimately, he is presented, in a way I thought of as quite clever, as a man who has his own kind of "faith." The movie makes the point that you have to have a little faith in the product you are shilling in order to properly shill it, and the product O'Hurley's character makes is a pill that's supposed to re-grow hair in bald people. Tobolowsky is such a person, and so that's the thing he has faith in -- and he expresses that faith in a really touching scene. In a way, this movie is supporting the idea of believing in something -- whether it's Christianity or regrowing your hair. I find it essentially optimistic in a way that's unafraid to be secular.

O'Hurley's character is basically just comic relief, as kind of a variation on J. Peterman, but he's harmless.

I know I've spent a lot of time on how the film conveys its Christianity, so let's just summarize by saying that it doesn't lay it on nearly as thick as you would expect. Really clueless Christian movies start with the Gods and Jesuses right from the start, and this one really doesn't. Even though Bernsen and Chabert are both Christians who speak openly about their faith, they are shrewd enough to know what turns people off. Then again, even Kirk Cameron can do this subtly when he wants to.

Obviously I experienced this movie very differently from most people. On Letterboxd, here's what the spread of its user star ratings looks like:

That's 557 half-star ratings compared to the 39 who gave it three stars, one of whom is me.

Again not to denigrate my fellow Flickcharters or anyone else who hates this movie, but I do wonder if hating Christian Mingle feels like some people's duty in the current culture wars. Like, if you say you like Christian Mingle, you are somehow helping Donald Trump get reelected. I understand that impulse, though I can't endorse it. Christian Mingle is more nuanced than that, I think.

I think it can feel scary to say you like a movie like Christian Mingle -- I feel scared just writing this post. Scared for a number of reasons. For one, that you'll think I have no ability to discern good from bad, and will never trust my critical opinions again. But also, scared that you will think I'm a "crazy Christian," or that I may be starting my own "path to Jesus."

But just how I hope most people are getting over being afraid to make a comment where someone might "think they're gay," I don't think I or anyone else should be afraid to say that a Christian movie is good without someone "thinking I'm Christian." Being able to appreciate something intended for a certain type of person does not mean you are that type of person, but then again, so what if you are?

I watched Christian Mingle on the morning of February 29th when I was away for the night with a friend, and he was still asleep. (I'm not gay! Ha ha.) I did give temporary consideration as to whether I should try to "salvage" my February 29th terrible movie by watching another candidate -- say, From Justin to Kelly -- when I got home later on.

I ultimately decided against it. (In fact, I re-watched my favorite movie of all time, Raising Arizona.) I ultimately decided that I'd made a good faith (ha ha) effort to watch something truly terrible, where all existing evidence stated it was terrible. Just because it had not, in the end, been terrible for me, does not make it a failure for this February 29th "series."

It just serves as a reminder that movies can always surprise us, that our preconceived notions are often wrong, and that maybe we shouldn't even have those preconceived notions.

Being surprised is the reason we watch movies.

Amen to that.

Case in point

With apologies in advance to Lord Vader ...

Yesterday I wrote about religion in movies, and how religious characters in Hollywood films usually get a bum rap. I wasn't getting all pious on you -- I'm still the same non-affiliated guy I've always been, and don't relate particularly well to people whose faith dominates their lives. But that doesn't mean I'm blind to cinematic injustices perpetrated against people who believe in God.

And so the timing couldn't have been better for me to have rented The Mist, or Stephen King's The Mist as the title is more regularly listed, yesterday. My wife and I were babysitting for people who have a BluRay player (we haven't made that leap yet ourselves), so we wanted to rent something that might take advantage of that format. We were on our second time through the BluRay section at the local Blockbuster when we noticed this 2007 release that had intrigued both of us. I'd read Stephen King's -- novella? short story? -- back in my King days (the late 80s and early 90s), so I might even have seen this one in the theater if it hadn't gotten lost in the holiday shuffle (it was released just before Thanksgiving). Knowing there would be a bunch of CG creepie crawlies emerging from the aforementioned mist, which trap a bunch of locals in a small Maine town in the grocery store, I figured this would be a perfect choice. Plus, it was directed by Frank Darabont, whose other King adapations -- The Shawshank Redemption and The Green Mile -- were both highly praised. I haven't seen The Green Mile, but I frequently describe Shawshank as a movie I will watch until the end if I come across it on cable.

Boy were we wrong.

I really didn't like anything about this film, but even if I had, the ending would have totally ruined it for me. I'll do you the honor of not spoiling that ending, but I'll also urge you not to see it if you haven't yet. (And warn you that there is a spoiler or two in this post, but nothing serious). The creature effects are terrible, and the acting ... well, let's just say I can't believe this is the same director who coaxed such subtle performances in Shawshank. But then Darabont actually does us one worse by also being responsible for the terrible script.

But what I want to focus on today is the weird application of liberal values in this film, first and foremost with regards to the film's resident religious nutjob, played by Marcia Gay Harden. She's not the only example, but she's a good place to start.

Simply put, Gay Harden is the personification of all the worst things about Christianity in one grating character. But she doesn't get killed off right away. In fact, she sticks around for most of the movie, whipping others around her into the same blind fervor, basically eradicating the idea that faith in God could be anything but a crutch of the weak-willed and weak-minded.

As soon as the mist rolls in, she starts quietly quoting chapter and verse, only loud enough for the people around her to hear a few distracted mumblings. But as things grow a little more confusing, long before they grow dire, she's accusing various others around her of being sinners, even when they aren't doing anything particularly sinful, and suggesting this is God's vengeance against them. Then she rejects an overture of friendship from a nice woman, telling her that if she needed a friend like her, she'd squat and shit one out. Huh? See, that's what really tells me this film hates this woman -- a truly godly person would accept offerings of love and friendship from another person. Harden's character thinks the woman is making fun of her, but there's nothing that would suggest that other than Harden's paranoia.

I won't tell you how her character ends up playing out, but let's just say that everything she does for the rest of the movie can be considered a misapplication of religious teachings. Often, an egregious misapplication.

I'll give the movie this -- it's perfectly believable, in a scenario where the world seems to be enveloped in a fog containing giant tentacled bugs, that the most religious people would interpret it as some sort of coming of the end of days. But if this movie wanted to make us believe in it, it would have shown a flicker of this woman's charity or goodness. Instead, she is one-dimensionally hateful.

As I mentioned earlier, The Mist's liberal agenda goes awry in other ways as well. The second least charitable character in this film is a hayseed played by William Sadler, who first comes to prominence when he threatens the college-educated protagonist (the eternally bland Thomas Jane) for trying to fool them with talk of monsters in the mist. He gets all tough and bullying and threatens to knock out Jane's teeth. Well, what follows is a string of indignities for this character, basically intended to indicate that such people are all bluster and no action. First he stands back in horror as a young stock boy is dragged out the loading dock by a giant octopus leg. Then he screams like a little girl when confronted with an over-sized bug at the pharmacy next door. Finally, he falls in with the religious wacko's flock and starts mindlessly chanting her God-fearing hocus pocus.

More evidence? The three military men stuck in the grocery store are passive and ineffectual. Instead of helping barricade the store against the intrusion, they huddle in a group in the middle of one of the aisles, looking glum. This after they complained at the beginning that they were just moments from going on leave when the leave was canceled due to this crisis. And oh yeah, two of them later hang themselves. (Sorry for the spoiler).

On the flip side of the coin, the guy who takes the leadership role is Jane's character, a graphic artist seen at the start painting some kind of book cover or movie poster. Traditionally, he'd be the passive intellectual, not the man of action. But he jumps in as the only courageous person in numerous scenarios where he's surrounded by trained professionals or rugged country types. And oh yeah, the only guy in the store who knows how to shoot a gun (including the military guys) is the jowly, balding, bespectacled cashier played by Toby Jones, whose most famous previous role (pun sort of intended) was in Infamous, where he played Truman Capote. As far as I can tell from my searchings on the internet, Jones is not actually gay -- and in fact, he played quite the opposite as Karl Rove in W. -- but let's just say they wouldn't have picked him to play Capote if he reminded anyone of Dirty Harry.

One of the things I value about myself as a thinking person -- which I hope I indicated in yesterday's post -- is that I can recognize when my enemies are right, and when my guys are wrong. I know it's pretty facile to take two films (Fireproof and The Mist) and force them to represent their core political philosophies. After all, each is only one movie. And The Mist may not have even intended to peddle an overtly liberal agenda -- it could have just been Darabont's massive failure to check himself, which resulted in him writing a bunch of unbelievable caricatures. But the film he made ended up being just the kind of fodder the church crowd needs, if it wants to say that Hollywood is out of touch with this country's many Christians. I don't want to see a bunch of Christians become the heroes of summer blockbusters, but making Christians as unsympathetic as pedophiles and pet stranglers doesn't do anybody any good either.

Maybe if Darabont gets back to basics -- I don't see another directing job slated on his schedule, but I can't imagine he's done -- his next movie can function as "the Darabont redemption."

Unabashedly religious

It's possible to make a movie about religion without it being religious.

But not if that movie is a Kirk Cameron movie.

For those of you who don't know, the erstwhile Growing Pains star has Given Himself Over to God. This actually happened while Growing Pains was still filming, but it hasn't become the sole focus of Cameron's career until about the last decade. It was in 2000 that Cameron made the first of three Left Behind movies, which dealt not so subtly with The Rapture, and giving yourself over to Christ. Because I love reviewing movies that no one else sees (no one else I know, anyway), I reviewed the first two, and have just put the third on my next list of requests. They are not good movies, but they are not as bad as they could have been, either. They do, however, explicitly use the language of fundamentalist Christianity throughout.

Because most of us are accustomed to watching the portrayal of religion in some liberal Hollywood context, such as the DaVinci Code movies, it's downright weird to watch a movie that is clearly peddling a different agenda. You just don't see it in mainstream movies, unless you're talking about Tyler Perry movies, which may do good box office, but are not exactly mainstream in the sense that Hollywood usually defines it. It's like you've stumbled in on something fringe, something that wasn't intended for your demographic. When the words "God" and "Christ" are mentioned in Hollywood movies, it's not meant to convert, but to inspire skepticism. There's always something a little off about those characters, and you the viewer are usually invited to align with those who oppose them.

That's not the case in Kirk Cameron movies, and it's not the case in Fireproof, which I've now watched over parts of the last three days, finishing this morning. Despite its name, Fireproof doesn't take the fire-and-brimstone approach of the Left Behind movies -- Cameron's character is a Georgia firefighter on the brink of dissolving his marriage. But Fireproof does on occasion ask us viewers if we have accepted Christ as our personal lord and savior.

But does this mean I hated it? Does this mean I adopted a liberal, Bush-hating, 360-degrees-in-the-other-direction condescension toward it?

Heck no. In fact, I got a little emotional at the end -- twice.

What's interesting about Fireproof is that it shows that Cameron is maturing. No longer does he feel it's necessary to scare religion into us by suggesting that we non-believers will be stranded on a planet scarred by war and sinners, while everyone who went to church on Sunday has ascended to the heavens. Though there are those telltale lines of dialogue that immediately put you on guard -- "Okay, here's what this movie is really about" -- Fireproof seems at least as interested in trying to help people salvage failing marriages, even if it is God's love that's supposed to help you do it. Never is there any doubt that this movie is prostletyzing, but Cameron and his team of collaborators are smart enough to keep the percentage relatively low. We're not meant to think that Christianity is the only lesson to take here. The things that Christianity endorses -- patience in the face of repeated disappointment, love, etc. -- are more the focus than Christianity itself as an institution.

An interesting thing that Cameron does in both this and the Left Behind films is that he puts the character he plays in the role of the skeptic. Of course, since it's Cameron and since you know what his agenda is, you know he will see the light. But Cameron allows himself to speak a number of lines of dialogue doubting the power of religion. Although you can imagine it was quite difficult for him, he makes himself the surrogate of the skeptical viewer, the guy who doesn't believe in all this God-and-Jesus hocus pocus. It may be a devious trick on some level, but it also works. Coming at the viewer head on with a bunch of devout characters whose faith in God is never in question won't cut it. Cameron et al understand that there must be dramatic tension, at least, and that something isn't really a movie at all if everyone's on the same page to begin with. Christianity's many parables relate to turning non-believers into believers, and I guess this is no different, but let's just say these people are not blinded into narrative incompetence by the strength of their beliefs. They still realize that this is a movie, whose goals must involve some level of entertainment and escapism.

And it also has a sense of humor. As part of a firehouse game of one-upsmanship, two firefighters chug a hot sauce called "Wrath of God." There's also a running joke about how Cameron's neighbor always catches him taking his frustration out on some helpless inanimate object in his backyard. Their wry exchange always occurs with a nod of the head, and then, Cameron acknowledging him by saying, "Mr. Rudolph." And the neighbor answering back, "Caleb."

It's probably clear to you that I liked this film, and you're probably wondering how I feel about that. After all, I'm about the most ungodly guy you could find. Not that I'm some rampant sinner, just that I don't choose to characterize my values -- which I'm pretty proud of -- in terms of a church or religion. Nor do I ever expect to.

I should feel sullied by being "taken in" by this movie. After all, I do pride myself on my liberal outlook, which is supposed to greet any attempt at organized religion with downright disdain. I do believe that religion is responsible for the greatest share of the world's problems. But I do also acknowledge that some people use it correctly.

But one other thing I've discovered is that film critics must, to the extent that they can, set aside preexisting opinions when watching a movie like this. You aren't just reviewing this movie for likeminded liberals, but for any person that might be out there, looking for something to see on a Saturday night. (Or maybe a Sunday night in this case, if the Lord allows it.) In fact, reviewing it for liberals would miss the point entirely, since so few of them are likely to consider themselves candidates to see it in the first place.

It's funny, because I know I did request this movie to review because of a preexisting opinion I had about its pernicious agenda. I wanted an opportunity to deliver some subtle slams about Christianity -- nothing so overt that I'd seem like a hater, but just enough that I'd leave people walking away with a clear sense of my perspective. And maybe contribute to one fewer person accepting Jesus Christ as their lord and savior without first enganging in honest, intellectual introspection, to decide if it's really the right thing for them.

But you have to take every film on its own terms, and if a movie actually succeeds, like Fireproof does, I'm not going to let my liberal ideals take it down a peg. The filming is competent, the acting is more than competent (you can't tear up at the end of the movie if the actors are bad), and the dialogue is not even as on-the-nose as I was expecting. Plus, there were two pretty dynamite set pieces involving firefighters engaging in heroic rescues.

So what is my role as a critic in this scenario? An unbiased, disinterested commentator who must meet this film on its own terms? I'll let everyone know that this is a Christian movie -- how could you not. I'll let everyone know that there's some clunky dialogue. And I'll also let everyone know that this movie is darn successful in doing what it set out to do, and that even liberal-minded viewers might walk away from it with their self-respect intact.

It's not my business whether viewers come to adopt the tenets of Christianity as a result of watching. It's only my business to allow Fireproof the opportunity to try, based in part on my own recommendation, given with reservations of course, but not artificial reservations trumped up for the purposes of my own personal agenda.

As much as I would have hated to acknowledge this going in, Fireproof has earned the right.