Review
Culture
Film & TV
9 min read

Love letters to cinema

Yaroslav Walker is warmed, bored, and then revived as he reviews The Fabelmans, Babylon, and Empire of Light.
A cinematic view of a child holding an image that lights up their face.
Sammy Fabelman, played by Mateo Zoryan Francis-DeFord, falls in love with cinema.
Universal Pictures.

This year has seen the release of three very different ‘love-letters’ to cinema. The Fabelmans sees pioneer and veteran of the Hollywood blockbuster, Steven Spielberg, baring his soul as co-writer Tony Kushner pieces together tableaux from Spielberg’s childhood to create a semi-autobiographical project. Mark Kermode once described watching a Spielberg film like sinking into a comfortable leather armchair. Peter Ackroyd called him ‘an extraordinary technician’ whose scenes are ‘as smooth and shiny as lip gloss’. This is the master at work, reminding us just how good he is. The film looks great…it looks gorgeous! From the opening scenes when we see young Sammy Fabelman use his Hanukkah train set to recreate a scene from DeMille’s Greatest Show on Earth (the camera getting down low to follow and witness the terrible toy crash from every angle), through to the final shot of an adult Sammy walking into a hopeful and unknown horizon, Janusz Kamiński’s cinematography and Spielberg’s direction are superb.

In spite of the two and a half hour runtime the film never drags. Every set piece arrives, does its turn, and gives way to the next elegantly. We follow young Sammy and his family as they start in New Jersey and then move home, first to Arizona and then to California. Young Sammy discovers an all-encompassing passion for filmmaking which helps him deal with the many moves and upheavals that come his way.

'The man is able to communicate the fullness of the interior life of any character in a single breath.'

The script is warm and funny and plays the audience like a fiddle - but what else would you expect? The cast all seem delighted to be there. Michelle Williams is wild and ‘artsy’ without ever hamming it up. The young stars turn in solid performances, and Judd Hirsch and David Lynch drop by to chew some scenery and remind us what old-fashioned star power is. However, despite everyone being on top form, Paul Dano takes the day. His face permanently set in a creased expression that is both serious and loving, his entire posture giving a warm glow of empathy, his very breathing draws you into his world and his cares…I’m not joking. Within the last year I have heard Dano exhale as the psychotic Riddler in The Batman and as a heart-broken father and husband in The Fabelmans - the man is able to communicate the fullness of the interior life of any character in a single breath.

All that being said, ‘smooth and shiny’ really sums up the film. It's good looking and entertaining, but forgettable and lacking substance. Hirsch gives an Oscar-baiting speech about obsession and creativity and the battle between art and family, and there is horrific depiction of antisemitism…but these moments just sit in the middle of the film like little islands of profundity.

What this is, is the master-craftsman indulging himself in style. And you know what? Fair play. You should go and see the film. Go and see one of the makers of modern cinema do his thing. It’s a little empty and self-indulgent, but hey…this is the director of Jaws, E.T., Raiders, Schindler’s List, etc (the list goes on and on), he gets to do this; he’s earned it!

3.5 stars

Babylon

A movie star flicks their long hair, backlit by a strong light
Babylon's Nellie LeRoy, played by Margot Robbie, is a 1920s Holllywood It Girl.

Smooth and shiny are also apt words to apply to Damien Chazelle’s Babylon. Others are putrid, dull, and loathsome. In Babylon we are transported to another world, where Hollywood is on the brink of talking-pictures, a party isn’t a party without drugs and sex and elephant dung, and where everyone is a moral vacuum sucking all goodness and beauty into the gaping maw of self-obsession. The film purports to follow Diego Calva’s Manny as he works his way from elephant fondler to studio exec. On the way he falls in love with rising star Nellie LaRoy (she added the ‘La’ herself) and has a brief stint working for Brad Pitt’s leading-man Jack Conrad.

That’s it…that’s all I can say. There’s your summary of three-hours of screen time and three hours of my Saturday night when instead I could have been slowly pulling out my own teeth. The first act or so is a booze-fuelled display of orgiastic excess that wants you to think its self-aware but is really just pornographically gleeful. The middle is a damned slog culminating in a final third which dares to ape (and I don’t care if it intends to, because as far as I’m concerned it does) Boogie Nights (via Dante) - an astronomically superior film which actually has something to say about excess and obsession and  corruption and libertinism.

Every now and then it tries to trick you into seeing something of substance - Jean Smart’s gossip columnist delivers a diverting if vapid speech about the lasting power of art over human ambition and popularity, and Brad Pitt is constantly shouting about how film is not a low art form and really means something - but don’t be fooled. The film is a nihilistic chasm and by the end I really came to loathe it, which now seems ridiculous because it’s so crashingly boring that it really isn’t worth getting upset about. And if I sound like a young-fogey moralist, the film’s black hole where any sort of conscience or soul should be isn’t its worst crime in my opinion. The film is dull. Don’t waste your time.

1 star

Empire of Light

A couple stand on a seafront watching fireworks explode over a beach and pier. Credut
Empire of Light sheds new light on Margate.

After the brutal combination of anxiety and boredom in Babylon, Empire of Light came as a welcome restorative - like a cup of tea the morning after. A calm and thoughtful little film, which sees Sam Mendes doing what he does best: being empathetic. From American Beauty right through to 1917, Mendes has yet to direct a film where I don’t feel he cares about his characters. I don’t think he always likes them, but he really knows them and cares about them.

Olivia Coleman’s Hilary is a quiet and reserved woman in middle-age who works in a Margate cinema. She doesn’t seem to have much about her, although we start to see little cracks in the mundane facade: the odd smile, the odd stare, the sudden explosion of jealous anger. There’s a backstory there, but we only have clues. Her life changes when handsome young Stephen is hired. Stephen is outgoing, charming, intelligent, and sensitive. He and Hilary strike up an unlikely romance which helps both characters open up and connect but faces many challenges, from racism (Stephen is black and the far-right are menacing Margate) to failing mental-health.

It’s lovely, but it could have been so much more. It has a sedate pace, and Olivia Colman (when isn’t she excellent!?) does a lot of heavy lifting with Hilary - a character who in lesser hands would  have been a caricature but whom Colman presents as nuanced and engaging - but it tries to incorporate too much. It looks at loneliness, it looks at middle age, at a slowly declining coastal town, and at the power of cinema, and racism, and mental health… but only ever a snapshot. A film of such serenity - in no small part due to Roger Deakins’ sumptuous cinematography - can’t afford to have quite so many balls in the air. Empire of Light has too much under its placid surface - perhaps a result of Sam Mendes having sole control of the script. I wanted to grab hold of just one idea and run with it. Still, it is a lovely film. Well worth a watch. Also, Toby Jones…Toby Jones is a reason to see any film.

3.5 stars

The loving presentation of the power of cinema

Three very different films united in their loving presentation of the power of cinema - discovering movie-making as a child, being part of the Golden Age of Hollywood, and the quiet joy of the local seaside cinema. They are united, also, in that each centres around characters searching for meaning. Sammy Fabelman is both traumatised and delighted by cinema at a very young age, and then desperately clings to it as a way to find meaning and solace in a difficult world, unwittingly reconciling and exemplifying his parents’ best qualities (his father’s work-ethic and his mother’s creativity). Manny, Nellie, and Jack are all seeking to define their lives. Jack wants to make a lasting impact on art, Nellie wants to find acceptance, and Manny wants be part of ‘something bigger’. In a much smaller way, Hilary and Stephen find in each other another lost soul looking for answers (Stephen the failed student, and Hilary the failed academic?).

The Fabelmans, Babylon, and Empire of Light all have deeper meaning as a question and cinema as an answer. This is obvious in the first two, but even Empire throws this into the mix with mawkish (but expertly delivered) monologues in which Toby Jones’ projectionist waxes lyrical about the magic of film projection, and how technical skill and hard graft and celluloid and a love of one’s craft are what matters. Towards the end of the film Hilary seems to turn a corner when, for the first time, she watches a full film at work and is enchanted and delighted.

A hunger for meaning

All three films lay bare a fundamental truth about the human condition. We are all searching for ‘meaning’, ‘solidity’, ‘truth’ on which we can rely and around which we can build our lives. We live in a culture which more and more suggests that there is no objective truth or meaning, and so this hunger for ‘meaning’ gives us the opportunity to define our lives ourselves and create our own truth and our own meaning of life. All three films also demonstrate just how damaging this can be.

In Babylon it’s obvious; characters create their own meaning and it ends in suicide, drug-overdose, and a figurative descent through the circles of hell (where people still know how to party!?) and exile. The film tries to end with the suggestion that all this pain and suffering in some way led to the brilliance of Singing in the Rain… It didn’t. Empire’s empathy doesn’t stop it from raising some uncomfortable questions. Hilary’s search for meaningful experience with Stephen could be seen as grooming and coercion, and an abuse of power. Toby Jones’ monologues are delivered all while we see a photo of his tragically estranged son in the background. Sammy Fabelman finds solace and meaning in film, while being tremendously self-involved to the point where his sister has to chastise him for his selfishness.

All human beings feel this urge to find definition and meaning. Our cinematic offerings seem to view it as a bug, Christianity knows it as a feature. They see it as a challenge to be overcome, Christianity knows it to be a gift. It is through this longing for meaning - for something more than ourselves - that we can know something of God. St Augustine summed it up beautifully when he confessed of the human condition that ‘our hearts are restless till they rest in thee’. As we long for meaning, we are invited to find it, not create it.

We are invited by Jesus Christ into something bigger than ourselves. But that bigger thing isn’t something we ‘lose’ ourselves in; we ‘find’ ourselves in the bigger reality of God, and as we find our restless hearts coming to peace in God we truly begin to see the world around us and our place in it.

Interview
Culture
Nationalism
Politics
S&U interviews
14 min read

Tim Farron: our politics is fragmenting, not polarising

Responding to Christian nationalism and the politicisation of religion

Graham is the Director of the Centre for Cultural Witness and a former Bishop of Kensington.

Tim Farron stands on a conference stage with arms wide
Farron addresses the opening rally of the Liberal Democrat Conference.

This is a transcript of a recent conversation between Tim Farron MP, former leader of the Liberal Democrat party in the UK and Graham Tomlin, Editor-in-Chief of Seen & Unseen

Graham Tomlin: I read a book recently by Bijan Omrani called God is an Englishman. It makes the case for Christian faith as having hugely shaped English life - our legal system, our literature, our poetry, music, language, landscape and everything. The point he makes is that the probably the biggest social change in the last 50-60 years is the decline of Christianity as a publicly recognised set of assumptions. Do you think that's true? And does it matter? 

Tim Farron: I think there's certainly some truth in it. I do subscribe to the Tom Holland thesis, which is that Western liberal democracy owes its existence, and therefore the West in terms of values, to the gospel. What do I mean by that? I mean a sense that all human beings are awesomely made in the image of God, and therefore are of enormous value - every single one of them. that justice matters, that no one should be above the law. Likewise, a kind of more negative view of humanity, which is we're all sinners, and therefore we shouldn't be concentrating the power in the hands of too few of us. And so, I think Western liberal democracy definitely owes itself to Christianity. I'm speaking to you from the Houses of Parliament where there are chapels everywhere, and there are relics, shall we say, of the Christian faith all around. Indeed, the day in Parliament, including this day, begin with prayer. And good prayers for that matter. So, I I certainly do take his point.  

Is it significant that over the last 50-60 years that has been a declining influence in our politics? Yes, of course it's significant. I think again to quote other people, Oz Guinness's line that we live in a ‘cut-flower society’ is one I really think is true. The reality is that so many of the values that we hold to in Western societies, in the UK in particular, are grounded in faith in Christ, in what the gospel teaches us. And if we've now two or three generations into Christianity formerly being the established religion, but in reality not, then after a while, you lose. Cut flowers look nice and pretty for a while, but eventually they die because they're not attached to the roots.  

The image I've heard recently that is that that of a dying tree. A cut flower doesn't take long to die off. But a dying tree, where the roots have shrivelled up takes quite a long time. It can still look like a very flourishing tree, but over decades, it begins to wither above the surface as well as below.  

Bede, in the eighth century, was probably the first to really identify the English nation as a as a united entity linked into kingship and Christianity. We had the Coronation recently, which was a deeply Christian event. We have bishops, the succession of the monarchy is Protestant. The King is the Supreme Governor of the of the Church of England. But does all that make Britain a Christian nation? Would you call it a Christian nation? 

TF: I'm always quite wary about referring to anything as a Christian nation. Nations aren't saved. Individuals are. I don't think we are ever encouraged in the Bible to think that people or nations are saved by conquest. I'm not just talking about invasions and crusades. I'm talking about elections. We know that all human beings are sinners, that politics is not ultimate. I think there's plenty of guidance for us in the Bible to tell us that politics matters, that we're meant to seek the welfare of the city in which we've been placed, that we're meant to care for those around us, to love our neighbour in practical ways, not only in spiritual ways, but in physical ways as well. I think we're to engage in politics. But politics is not ultimate, and we should be careful about seeing the advance of the Kingdom as something you do either with the rifle or the ballot box. 

We’ve just had the Unite the Kingdom march through London with Tommy Robinson and friends. At that event, there were people holding crosses, hymns were sung, there was a chant of “Christ is king”. What do you make of all that does it? Does it worry you?  

Yes, it does worry me if I'm honest with you. I can see some silver linings, but the appropriation of Christianity by one political movement troubles me. Well, let's put boldly - it is heretical. Christ should shape our politics. Our politics should not be shaping our faith.  

I think there are two forms of Christian nationalism. I'll pick one of them – it is the idea that we should be a kind of clerical state. All the laws should be Christian, and we should act like a Christian nation, almost like a Christian version of some of some Islamic countries.  

On the other hand, you've got the marches run by Tommy Robinson - a kind of Christian nationalism where Christianity is seen as a symbol of Englishness and of Britishness, to be appropriated to wear as a badge. It's Land of Hope and Glory, ‘green and pleasant land’, St George, myths of our past flags and all the rest of it. And it's all kind of like a pot-pourri, a minestrone of things that make us British. I don't want to poo-poo that, but that's not Christianity and so my worry is that whenever a political party seeks to appropriate Christianity, then by definition, the other half of the culture war will have their fingers in their ears when it comes to the gospel, and that's a really bad thing. And also, the way in which it is spoken of, it's not spoken of lovingly, gently. It's not spoken of in a way of where we're seeking to bring people into relationship with Christ, but as a kind of a as a badge or as an emblem. 

Jesus will not endorse your politics. If you have grabbed hold of the cross and Christianity as motifs of your patriotism, your nationalism, it's not Christianity. Jesus will not endorse you. He won’t endorse people on the other end of the spectrum either. He will disturb you. He will contradict you. And if you want to come into a living relationship with Jesus Christ, be prepared to put all of that in the bin because he will ask you to. 

Theologians and sociologists often use a distinction between thick and thin religion. Thin religion is an identity marker which can be used as a bit of a stick to beat people with, but thick religion is where you really take seriously the teachings of the faith. You go deeply into it, develop a life of prayer, attending church, really taking this seriously.  

There were genuine Christians on the Tommy Robinson march and I'd love to speak to some and understand where they were coming from on all of this. On my podcast through the whole party conference season, I'll be interviewing Reform people, Lib Dems, Conservatives, Labour - and so I don't condemn anybody for their political views. I do think there’s something about the whole kind of Tommy Robinson cabal, which is just especially ungodly, but that doesn't mean that he's not tapping into concerns that are legit.  

What’s the silver lining?

In Christian nationalism, you've got a bunch of people who think they like Christianity. They may never have heard it properly, but they think they like it. And so, there's a good chance they might come into the door, and if they come into the door and the right person is behind pulpit, they might hear the gospel as well.

I'm doing various talks at the Lib Dem conference. Two of them are specifically Christian and in the first instance I'll have to do battle with “isn't Christianity bad? Isn't it all made-up and not true anyway?” And those are two hurdles before I can then even begin with the gospel. When somebody thinks Christianity is part of being English and we should reclaim it, then at least I'm over those first two hurdles! And I can then get into the gospel, which will be equally shocking to them. Equally shocking. It is a very big hurdle. Jesus Christ is the cornerstone that you will trip over because he will tell you that you've got to love your enemy. He will tell you to love the unborn, and he'll also tell you to love the refugee. He will tell you to abide by, traditional sexual ethics, and he will also tell you that racism is an outrageous sin. He will tell you that the package of beliefs that you signed up to - tear them up. 

I always like to remind myself of something David Steel said a few weeks after I joined the Liberals when I was 16 at the first conference of my membership. He said any liberal that doesn't disagree with at least ten per cent of Liberal policies isn't really a liberal. And I like that. But I think that with Christians, it should be even more so. You know, you're joining a band of sinners. You know that because you're one of them. And so you're going to join imperfect group of people who are seeking. 

Political parties being that is something we maybe accept, but the culture war seems to flush us into trenches which are far more neatly cut, where there is so much more hostility. And I would argue that Christians need to stay out of the court. You can join a party. Don't get in a culture war trench.  

What about the rise of Reform? It does seem to tap into a kind of deep unease that is around middle Britain. You will hear people in that movement talking about the increasing prominence of Islam or ‘woke’ ideology. And they see that as a sort of threat to the Christian character of the nation. Are they right to feel threatened by that? 

One thing we should say first and foremost: Christ is on the throne. The battle is won. Don't panic. With regard to Middle England or Middle Britain, I want to be really respectful about Muslims and accept their rights to think different things. And I think Islam is just another world view. That's not Christianity, so is atheism, so is agnosticism, so is nominal Christianity. And so, I don't feel especially threatened. I mean, as a Christian I don't feel threatened at all because the victory is Christ’s. It's won and God does not need our help.

Do I think Islam is true? Carefully, I would respectfully think it isn't. I think atheism is untrue. I think agnosticism is untrue. I think modified versions of Christianity where we've added or taken stuff away from it is untrue. Yet I will die in a trench to defend people's rights, to think all of those things.

And I think Christianity is true and Jesus is who he says he is. And so what I do think is that we should have the right to respectfully disagree. And that's the thing that I've think we may have lost in the last 20 or so years, and some people will put that down to woke ideology. But nobody who is ‘woke’ ever uses the phrase ‘woke’! If you use the word ‘woke’, you've turned lots of people off. If you think you're anti-woke entirely, then you're anti-Christian. If you're entirely woke, then you probably are as well. As I said earlier on, if you are following Christ, you should be concerned for the rights and the life of the unborn child, and should be equally concerned for the right to the refugee. And so what are you, woke or not woke? You are above all that. That's what you are. If you're complaining about wokery, you've got a problem. If you're massively woke, you've got a problem, in a very gentle and gracious way. You should be above all. 

  
It seems to me that both kind of conservative and progressive elements or instincts have their roots in Christianity because, you know, the progressive element knows very deeply that the world is fallen. It's broken, it needs justice. Things need changing. We can't just assume everything is fine. But the conservative approach gets that not everything is up for grabs, that there are some things that is given to us. We just simply have to accept the nature of reality that God has given to us. And so, you've got to be a little bit of both if you're if you're being authentic to Jesus? 

I think that's right. And I think that's one of the reasons why it's completely legitimate for Christians to belong to different political parties.  

I want to ask you about the Conservative MP Danny Kruger joining Reform. 
Some would say that our politics is getting more polarised and there's not much space left in the midd
le.

It is polarised. I think there's an awful lot of anger. You hear some of the language of the Tommy Robinson characters and some others talking about civil war as if they want it, a language you just wouldn't have heard, at least not from the right. You might have heard it from the revolutionary Communists and the Socialist Workers back in the day when I was a student. But then again, let's be careful not to have rose-tinted spectacles about on about the past. The political and ideological difference between Margaret Thatcher and Michael Foot was colossal including, of course, that Margaret Thatcher thought it was stupid to not be in the European Union and Michael Foot wanted to leave! So too over nuclear defence, who we're allied to, who should own the means of production - massive, difficult decisions and divisions between the two parties back then. Today no-one's really arguing about who controls the means of production, or what level of taxation there should be or any of that stuff. These days it’s all about identity. Somebody once said that the lower the stakes, the more ferociously over which they are fought. And it seems now that we're arguing about stuff that - oh, forgive me - doesn't matter. 

As for Danny Kruger, he's intellectually credible. That's something Reform haven't got a lot of. And now they have with Danny. And the Labour Party just feels hated. And so, the parties that are not Labour and the Tories are doing well. Reform appear not to be held back by the need to present ideas that are based on evidence, and therefore they can say anything, and therefore they're on 30 per cent of the poll and we're on a mere 17 per cent and the Greens are on nine or 10 per cent. 

But I think where we're at is that there's a real detachment of people from the parties they've always supported. And that's been going on for some time. You could say it sort of started the 60s and the 70s, but it's absolutely got turbocharged since Brexit. That certainly seems to be where we are on the timeline and so people who had always voted Labour are now not doing so, those who always voted Tory, not doing, it's incredibly fluid. 

I guess what you're pointing to is not so much the polarisation of political discourse, but the fragmentation of it. After all. 400 years ago we were on the brink of a civil war. That's polarisation! If we're living in a very fragmented world, what is the role of the church in such times? And – can we call Britain a Christian nation in any sense? 

I think the role of the church is to model Christ. We should love Jesus internally and we should be pointing to him and making him known externally. And that's our job really. I'm not convinced we do that enough.  

I think we should be modelling Christ in his servant-heartedness in loving our communities in a practical way. And that means doing things like supporting refugees, supporting people in living in poverty, making sure that we make best use of whatever property the church might have to meet social need, but always, always put in the gospel at the centre of it.  

The story of the account of Jonah really resonates with me because of how he is towards Nineveh. Jonah ends up in the belly of the fish because he's legged it, he's gone literally in the opposite direction to where God was wanting to send him. He was going to go to Nineveh, to speak to these terrible people that he really did not like at all. Jonah was meant to tell them that they need to repent and believe. And Jonah knew God is a good and almighty powerful God, and unless he preached the word of God, they never would repent. He hated Nineveh. So he legs it to Spain and ends up in the belly of a fish. But the point is this. We've all got a Nineveh. 

Who is it for you? Is it Tommy Robinson? Is it Jeremy Corbyn? Who's your Nineveh? And whoever they are, you pray for them and reach out to them and love them. You do not need to agree with them. You should not agree with them. This models the utterly radical nature of the gospel and holding out the possibility of salvation, a relationship with the living God to absolutely everybody, including the people you do not like. To love your enemy. It's the most radical thing that you can do, it's the heart of what he did because he did that all the way through to the cross. 

Tim, thank you so much. It's always good to talk with you. It's always very illuminating, inspiring, encouraging. 

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