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4 min read

Hollywood’s streaming hope, here’s why

Today’s darker world of turmoil has viewers seeking solace.

Nathan is a speaker and writer on topics related to faith, life and God. He lives near Seattle, Washington. His writing is featured frequently in The Seattle Times. nathanbetts.com

An actor dressed in an ancient Middle Eastern way is filmed by a large camera.
Filming The Chosen.
Angel Studios.

Whatever you think of Christianity, just skimming the streaming options on Amazon or Netflix tells you that Christianity is by no means in decline; if anything, as one recent article in The Economist reads, it “is having a moment.” 

Amazon Prime’s House of David, Netflix’s Mary, and the series The Chosen are a few of the streaming options mentioned in The Economist article titled “Christian entertainment has risen”, which also notes the approximate 280 million people viewership worldwide of The Chosen

Sure, not all of these shows are the highest in production quality and they don’t necessarily garner great reviews across the board. House of David, the article cites, has been described as “wooden and cheap-looking, humourless and dull.” Negative comments have been shared about other Christian films as well ranging back to Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ

Yet, with all the mixed reviews of the various Christian streaming options available today, I could not help but wonder exactly why has there been such an uptick in Christian films and shows.  

There are two reasons hinted at in the article that stood out to me. The first thought revolves around the need for faith. The second is hope.  

At one point, the writer observes that the surge in biblical films is not necessarily a sign that Hollywood has now seen the light as much as it is indicative of the fact “that the world right now feels very dark.” People are searching for some light. The head of the Wonder Project, the independent studio that made House of David, adds: “Today people want to watch things that ‘restore faith’”. 

Personally speaking, I have lowered my intake of news over the last year primarily because I found that it either gets me down or increases my anxiety levels. The decision to tune out news outlets felt like the wise choice in limiting the ambient angst in my life. As I have shared this with friends, I have found that I am not alone in this; not by a long shot. 

Yet, with all the gloomy news we see around us, I’ve come to believe that even in our age of cynicism and scepticism, we still want to trust in others, our friends, our spouse, our leaders, and dare I say, God. 

The common thread among the surge of Christian television shows and films is that they present a world we want to live in. They are telling stories that involve redemptive endings; massive themes are covered, ranging from temptation and forgiveness, humility over pride, healing of wounds, and perhaps greatest of all, life after death. I wonder if one of the reasons we are attracted to these shows is the fact that they carry narratives that speak to the very core of who we are, who we struggle to be, yet who we want to become. They present a world of pain, struggle, turmoil, and darkness that also includes healing, strength, peace, and light. In a word, they fill us with faith. 

The Economist writer adds that “in a saturated streaming market, these films and shows are offering that most of Christian values—hope—to their makers.” Speaking now as a person living in America where the daily news cycle consistently offers us some type of disaster to digest, I find myself paying close attention to any possible signs of hope, and that includes the shows I stream.   

The more I live, the more I realize that every one of us is trying to figure out how to live in a battlefield of different pressures and struggles presented to us in life 

Not too long ago, I got into an unexpected conversation involving faith with the person who cuts my hair. Midway through the haircut, she told me that she and her husband were going to church that weekend. From our conversation, I had gathered that she was not religious at all so I gently asked her why they were going to church. Her voice slowed down and got shaky. She moved the scissors away from me. She then looked at me through the mirror and said, “My husband and I just had a baby and life has been very stressful. We are not sure we are going to make it. We are going to church because we need something to hope in.” 

The more I live, the more I realize that every one of us is trying to figure out how to live in a battlefield of different pressures and struggles presented to us in life. The question has always been, “How is it possible for us to live and perhaps even flourish in this type of world?” The ubiquitous nature of entertainment options available to us in our technological age might be unique to us, perhaps. But what is not new is our desperate need for faith and hope to sustain us. The rise in Christian entertainment reminds us of this truth.  

We might not need Amazon Prime video or Netflix to survive in this world, but the offering of faith and hope found in the films and storytelling within those streaming services are the exact ingredients we need to live. When you think about it like that, it’s easy to understand why Christian entertainment is indeed having a moment. 

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5 min read

I’m not sure Christopher Nolan has actually read The Odyssey

The director has drunk the Kool-aid of modernity, and done so deeply
the head of a classical statue looks up amid embers around it.
The odyssey poster.
Universal Studios.

Greek myths are full of hubris. Full of it. I feel like ‘hubris’ isn’t a word you hear very often anymore. It means excessive pride or self-confidence that leads to a downfall, in case you were wondering. “Boris Johnson’s hubristic underestimation of the effects of ‘Partygate’ was the final nail in his political coffin,” we might say.  

In one myth, Icarus is imprisoned, but given wings held together by wax in aid of his escape. He is warned not to fly too close to the sun, because the heat will melt the wax. Guess what he does? Yep! Flies too close to the sun. The wings melt and he falls to his death. Hubris

Another myth tells the story of Prometheus. No, not the slightly underrated Alien prequel. (That’s right, I said underrated, but that’s another article for another day). Prometheus defies the Greek gods by stealing fire and giving it to humans. As punishment, Zeus ties Prometheus to a rock and has an eagle eat his liver, only for it to grow back overnight so the eagle can come back the next day and start again. Hubris. 

Greek myths are full of hubris. Full of it. 

And so, this is why I find the new poster for Christopher Nolan’s upcoming adaptation of Greek epic The Odyssey so … bizarre. But then I’ve been nervous about Nolan’s adaptation since it was announced. Nolan is a wonderful filmmaker, but he’s also deeply naturalistic in the messages he conveys. By this, I mean that all his films suggest that nature – the physical, material world of atoms and things – is all there is. Even when he has opportunity to explore themes of the mystical, or magical, or the supernatural, he only does so when a purely ‘natural’ explanation for such things is possible.  

For example, in The Prestige (and HUGE spoilers for the film here: it’s incredible, please watch it if you haven’t), Nolan tells the story of two rival magicians, played by Hugh Jackman and Christian Bale. Robert Angier (Jackman) is trying to work out Alfred Borden’s (Bale) teleportation trick. The secret? (Seriously: big, big spoilers here). Science. Nikola Tesla has invented a device that can clone someone but send the clone to a different location. The trick – the mysterious MacGuffin at the film’s heart – has a natural, scientific explanation. Magic isn’t real and you’re a fool if you think otherwise. 

Perhaps this is also why Nolan directed the wonderful Dark Knight trilogy. After all, Batman’s superpower is just wealth: it’s entirely naturalistic, with nothing that can’t fit into a scientific way of understanding the world. Or we could point towards the science fiction that underwrites Inception, Interstellar, and Tenet. For a filmmaker so gifted at tension and intrigue, he has surprisingly little truck with mystique, mystery, and the divine. But this is a problem when it comes to The Odyssey. A huge problem.  

Let’s return to that poster I mentioned earlier. It shows the head of a classical Greek statue, flames ember underneath it. The caption? Defy the Gods. And it’s at this point I start to wonder if Nolan has actually read The Odyssey. Because The Odyssey takes questions of divinity and their authority very, very seriously. Like many Greek myths and poems, the message of The Odyssey isn’t ‘defy the Gods’. No: it’s ‘trying to defy the gods is an unbelievably stupid, futile, and dangerous thing to do’. Nolan would seemingly have us raze Mount Olympus to the ground.  

Look, all we have is a poster so far. Nolan might prove me wrong. But we shouldn’t be surprised if Nolan reworks The Odyssey in such a way that ‘defy the Gods’ becomes its central message. Because Nolan is a quintessentially modern filmmaker.  

In a 1965 book called Freud and Philosophy, French philosopher Paul Ricœur described the modern period as dominated by a climate of suspicion or scepticism. Within this ‘climate of thought’, the straightforward understandings of things are actually deceptive, instead hiding hidden, deeper, and ‘truer’ meanings. He described Sigmund Freud, Friedrich Nietzsche, and Karl Mark as the ‘masters of suspicion.’ And so the world around us is to be approached suspiciously, to uncover the ‘truer’ meanings about our subconscious (so Freud), our false, religiously imposed morals (so Nietzsche), or our exploitative economic systems (so Marx). 

Each of Ricœur’s ‘masters of suspicion’ might be mapped on to one of the villains in Nolan’s Dark Knight trilogy. Liam Neeson is Ra’s al Ghul, a Freud-like figure who helps Bruce Wayne navigate the psychological effects of his parents’ murders in childhood. Heath Ledger’s mesmeric Joker is Nietzsche’s stand-in, exposing our misguided systems and structures of ethics, tethered to a religious framework we no longer hold to. Tom Hardy’s Bane is Marx, freeing Gotham’s proletariat from the economic structures that oppress them so. 

It's not a perfect fit, but I think there’s more than enough evidence to say that Nolan has drunk the Kool-aid of modernity, and he has drunk so very deeply. And this would be fine – absolutely fine – if he wasn’t planning to adapt The Odyssey. Because, as a quintessentially modern filmmaker, Nolan’s work emerges out of and celebrates a culture wherein ‘defy the gods’ is a slogan that can only be heard as heroic, courageous, and noble, rather than dumb and futile, as The Odyssey would stress to us. 

Defying divinity is not heroic. The Odyssey knows this and knows it well. Defying the gods never ends well for humans stupid enough to try in Homer’s work. Our modern sensibilities encourage us to be suspicious of institutionalised power, especially when that power takes a religious shape. We are predisposed to imagine that invocations of the divine are nothing more than thinly-veiled power-grabs. And sometimes they are. But The Odyssey is right to say that divinity itself is not to be trifled with. Renounce your creator at your peril. 

Like all his other films, Nolan’s The Odyssey is likely to be tense, wrought, and cinematographically immaculate. But also like his other films, I worry it will be deeply naturalistic in the way it handles the inescapably divine and supernatural elements present in Homer’s epic. The Odyssey has an important message for our increasingly hubristic society. I just worry that Nolan’s not the man to convey it as it deserves. 

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