Thanks to the Garden of Read'n and various other supportive Missoula ministries, the local Carmike has recently begun running the much-hyped movie “God's Not Dead.” To be fair, I must admit that I have been somewhat eagerly anticipating the release of this particular bit of cinema, chiefly for the hilarity factor- I viewed the trailer for the show a few months back, and I (along with a few friends) have been hungering for the opportunity to merrily mock the finished product rather than the brief few minutes the trailer granted us.
As I fully expected, the show was fraught with gross misrepresentations. Shylockian strawmen abounded. The few apologetic arguments introduced were not delved into with any depth, nor were they presented in any particularly compelling way. Nor am I overwhelmingly frustrated by Professor Radisson, the atheist representative, and his complete inability to address even the most pathetically constructed rudimentary apologetic arguments with anything whatsoever but blatant appeals to authority. (Literally, Radisson's only response to the basic Cosmological apologetic argument is “BUT STEPHEN HAWKING IS AN ATHEIST!”) As a matter of fact, the entire debate appeared to consist almost solely of quote mining. I expect nothing less from an (often hilarious) piece of pure propaganda.
I didn't mind all that. It was expected, and actually funny. I didn't mind the fact that the film depicted anyone that wasn't a bible-thumping christian as being a soulless bastard, nor the fact that it propagates the overwhelmingly common belief that atheists don't truly lack belief in a divine being, they just hate it. I didn't mind the fact that the film depicts believers as a persecuted minority, despite the fact that in the United States at this time, more than 80% of the population believes in some form of higher power. I didn't even mind the fact that it suggested nonbelievers do not have strength in their convictions- that on their deathbed, even the most strident atheists will recant their shameful ways and embrace the all-loving psychopath of the Bible. I didn't mind these, because I fully expected them, and even anticipated being amused by them. I must say, I was a little surprised at the movie's magnificent racism, but I didn't mind it all that much. Indeed, its use of the classic Asian father stereotype is one of the most brilliantly constructed pieces of racist comedy that I've ever borne witness to.
I'm not writing this because of any of that. It was nothing shocking to me, and in all honesty, I spent most of the movie laughing my ass off at how predictable it all was.
I'm writing this because of the final few minutes of the film. I'm not talking about the five minute music video that ends the show, but the end of the plot arc immediately before it. I apologize for any spoilers that I might be presenting here, but given the grotesquely awful nature of the movie I'm reviewing, I assure you that nothing particularly worthwhile is being spoilt.
In the final few minutes of the film, Professor Radisson (who is, to be fair, pretty much the biggest elitist asshole in the history of the planet... I shit you not, there is literally a scene where he sneers over the quality of the wine that he drinks shortly before directing an antagonistic recitation of a greek quote at his significant other and then mocking her for not speaking ancient greek...) rushes to a performance of The Newsboys so that he might apologize to his christian ex-girlfriend because of his abominable behavior. Before he can get there, he is hit by a car, who drives off, leaving him dying in the street. Do not worry, though! Up rush two reverends who immediately ascertain that the fellow has mere minutes to live, using the lost art of briefly touching the man's chest. Doing what any brave soul might, they then spend the last three minutes of the life of this gentleman currently choking on his own lifeblood heroically bullying him into professing his acknowledgement of Jesus Christ as his personal lord and savior.
I fully anticipate nightmares of the image of the previously lovable African reverend's brilliantly white grin shining down upon the mangled corpse of Kevin Sorbo as he gleefully proclaims to his comrade that “this is an occasion for celebration! You have done a great thing here!” I watched in terror as thousands of soldiers in the army of god (driven by the urgings of a deranged duck-hunter) proudly disagreed with a Nietzsche quote that they neither understood nor sought to understand by sending mass-texts to all of their contacts proclaiming “God's not dead!” as the corpse of the man who dared disagree with them still cooled outside the concert hall. The nail in the coffin, though, was when the still-intact phone in Kevin Corpsebo's pocket received the text, and the still-beaming ministers retrieve the phone, ending the story with a veritable “hallelujah, amen.”
This movie fully represents the dark underbelly of Christianity. Once you strip away all the quasi-humanist rhetoric, and the staunch declarations that the religion simply teaches to love one another, you are left with what is in all reality a terrifyingly morbid death cult. I would not dream of saying that all Christians are well-represented by this film, but I will say that enough are that the sold-out audience exploded into cheers at the ending of the movie, and walked away loudly talking amongst themselves about how wonderful a show it was. Evidently this trend is widespread among the United States, as the film is currently #5 in the box office, despite an incredibly limited release.
It may be that Zarathustra was wrong. Certainly, according to the members of the audience I sat among today, god is alive and well today.
If this movie is any indication, it's high time we off the bugger.