Heaven is for Real
(2014)
(SPOILERS) It would be churlish to complain about a Christian
movie selling Jesus, something Heaven is
for Real (fo’ sho’; Heaven is 4 Real
might have been a better title) has at the forefront of its mind. And
critiquing its take on Near Death Experiences (“NDEs”), from a rationalist/atheist
perspective, would be talking to the hand, as it would be for any who who avow
a spiritual dimension to an subject that some would reduce to mere brain
chemistry (what’s surprising is that an atheist who isn’t a Dawkins-type zealot
would waste their time setting it straight at all). The real (4 real) question,
rather than taking issue with its faith-based partiality, is whether Randall Wallace
has made a decent movie. On that front
it’s distinctly underwhelming, fudging together a series of
not-all-that-convincing conflicts and trials to sell an affirmative view of the
Christian afterlife (well, the glass half-full side of that afterlife).
Based on a True
Story,
announce the opening titles, and it should be noted that, like baseball movies
and a good proportion of their comedies, there is little interest in
Christianity-based movies that aren’t also Biblical epics/period pieces outside
of America. It deserves some consideration, as Heaven is for Real earned a significant 90% of its gross at home
(big movies are moving ever more towards the 70% internationally). It was a
significant sized summer sleeper hit, particularly given its modest budget, and
identified that there’s a ripe believer-based audience out there that won’t just turn out for Narnia or Mel’s The
Sadomasochism of the Christ. The unashamedly positive advertising probably
broadened its appeal too, towards the Bruce Joel Rubin/Ghost crowd. This is where the selling Jesus comes in, apart from
the mere fact of making the movie based on Todd Burjo and Lynn Vincent’s book.
It’s a case of attempting to preach to the unconverted
(although I think it’s profoundly mistaken if Wallace thinks this particular
topic will sway anyone) as apparently the experiences of Todd’s son Colton
testified to the family’s Biblical beliefs in a much more rigid manner. Rather
than merely coming away with benign sunshine and moonbeams, the youngster
received confirmation of the existence of hell, Old Nick, and the end times (so
that would be five horses up/down there in all; Colton also encountered a
rainbow-coloured horse, which I can only guess derives from one of the
non-canonical gospels). But that isn’t the kind of unfiltered starkness you
want to expose moviegoers to, unless you’re intent on milking the fears of The Exorcist-esque lapsed Catholics.
The conflicts are also manufactured, quite reasonably, as
otherwise Randall Wallace would have little in the way of a movie (he has
little-enough even with a few stakes involved). Todd (Greg Kinnear) is a
down-on-his-financial-luck pastor whose son is admitted to hospital with a
ruptured appendix. It’s touch-and-go for a while, and Todd later learns that
while undergoing surgery Colton was transported to heaven where he saw the
great grandfather he’s never met (or seen, it seems), and Jesus (we don’t see
the horse, alas) and the sister he knew nothing of, who died when his mother
Sonja (Kelly Reilly) miscarried. Todd is not a little rocked by this, not
knowing how to categorise his son’s experience. This befuddlement feeds into
his ministry, and before long the church board is asking questions about his
pastoral suitability (townsfolk even make jokes at his expense; oh, the
travails!)
It seems the real Todd never had the crisis of faith
provoked by Colton’s revelations, and never came into conflict with the church
board. Since the two points interweave, that makes a lot of sense. While
watching the picture I was surprised that Todd should react in a manner so
askance, wondering at his wonder, and become so obsessive over whether his son’s
experience was (4) real. The more likely reaction from a believer would have
been to accept it as an unquestionable message from God (much in the way that
less palatable bits of The Bible are inelegantly skipped).
The issues with the
church board are easier to swallow (particularly since the marvellous Margo
Martindale and Thomas Hayden Church – cast on the strength of his surname - sit
on it), since even broad-brush, keep-it-light (or especially?) weekend
churchgoers found here are wont to be possessive of their own private
interpretation of doctrine (Martindale is also given a caveat of grieving for
the loss of her own son – don’t worry though, Margo, you’ll get your vision in
time!)
As such, the picture presents a bit of a muddle in its
attempts to appeal to the broadest possible audience base. The bits of Colton’s
vision we do see include angels with
wings (while sniffing its nose at some cherub types being unrealistic to the
scriptures!) and a vision of Christ who matches the one painted by a Lithuanian
Christian NDE girl (the most alarming aspect of this is not that he resembles
your common-or-garden Jesus picture of the past few centuries, but that he has
a particular similarity to a bearded Barry Manilow).
The Burjos are most definitely not your staid, starchy,
Christians either. They have sex, for starters, which is quite shocking. And,
if randy sex talk is out, there’s the kind of mild innuendo that any pastor who
has seen Nicolas Roeg’s Puffball would
muster towards Kelly Reilly. Todd is a fantastic guy who teaches wrestling, gets
paid in carpet and does the volunteer fireman thing. And he plays baseball (he breaks his leg during this; one of the
disappointing aspects of the movie is that he doesn’t discuss the trials of
faith brought by God, establishing that he is a New Testament Christian with no
awareness of the book of Job).
Todd also suffers from hilarious kidney stones (permissible
toilet humour there) and gets into sing-a-longs of songs sung by well-known
heterosexual Christian Freddie Mercury (We
Will Rock You). Which is to say, he practices a particularly toothless,
inclusive and inoffensive form of Christianity and it’s an attitude that spreads
throughout the picture as a whole. It’s a “nice” movie, and it lacks any balls
at all. The worst one can say about it is that the Burpos clearly practice
corporal punishment and are all for their children beating up kids who verbally
abuse them. But I’m sure neither of those things are a barrier to passing
through the Pearly Gates on a rainbow-coloured horse.
The details that Colton could not possibly know are used to
leverage the “This really happened” argument (aware of what his father and
mother are doing while he is under the knife, as well as the appearances and
fates of family members), but none of this conflicts with more general non-denominational
NDE experiences. Unsurprisingly, Wallace opts not to explore this path, as it would create a universal theme
rather than a Jesus-based one.
The subject is broached briefly when Colton goes
to see a psychologist (Nancy Sorel), who offers a rational explanation for the
phenomenon (“No, he didn’t die”
proclaims Todd, as if that is the deciding factor in such experiences). Apart
from the sequence being another of the “Why would Todd, a pastor, do this?”
(Sorel’s Dr Slater pretty much asks him), it is crudely positioned to present
Slater as the one who clearly doesn’t believe for the most primary of reasons;
she lost her husband, so God is dead to her. If only the poor woman had faith!
It’s thin, given the crisis Todd is going through. As Sonja says, “Why cant it just be a mystery?”
Wallace’s movie career has been chequered, including
historically contentious fare Braveheart,
Pearl Harbor and We Were Soldiers; Heaven is
for Real confirms the effect of a lack of Mad Mel’s fiery faith on a Christian
movie, particularly in trying to fashion a story when there is none. Kinnear is
actually very good, a believably earnest pastor type with an informal but
authoritative pulpit style. Connor Corum strikes out as Colton; smiling
beatifically cannot make up for his lack of acting chops. The visions of heaven,
from the comfort of the local church, are all shafts of light and choirs (and
angel wings); this is not the most illustrious of cinematographer Dean Semler’s
work.
I do wonder if it’s possible to make this kind of sincerity
palatable? At very least, it requires artfulness well beyond Wallace’s reach.
To preach without provoking resentment in the audience is a difficult nut to
crack. Given the liberties taken with the source material, it might have been
more effective (more dramatic, certainly) to tell this as a non-believer
transformed, but that would defeat Wallace’s desire to present this as truth. The
trouble is, it’s a truth that fails to convince as a uniquely divine message (why
the Christian NDE as opposed to any other individual’s?). And it’s relayed via someone
who should surely not falter in the face of a recognised phenomenon; certainly,
in no way should it challenge his beliefs. Well, maybe that rainbow horse is a poser.
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