Podcast

Comedy

Culture

Poetry

S&U interviews

7 October 2023

4 min read

My conversation with... Frank Skinner

Re-Enchanting... Comedy. Frank Skinner is only interested in the weird. In the un-graspable. In the outrageous. Belle Tindall gets a lesson in "super poetry" from Frank.

Belle Tindall

Belle is the staff writer at Seen & Unseen and co-host of its Re-enchanting podcast.

Around a table with microphones, three people record a podcast, one leans in talking and gesturing with a hand while the others listen.

Recording Re-Enchanting... Comedy.

In David Baddiel’s (admittedly excellent) book The God Desire, he has a section on his long-time friend Frank Skinner entitled ‘In a Car with Frank Skinner and his Sins’ (not that Frank would know; he’s refused to read it). After my conversation with Frank Skinner for the Re-Enchanting Podcast, I’d like to similarly entitle this piece ‘On A Rooftop with Frank Skinner and his Doubts’.

Frank Skinner; a comedian, broadcaster and author who has entertained millions through TV shows such as Fantasy Football League, The Frank Skinner Show, Baddiel and Skinner Unplanned and Room 101, as well as many sell-out stand-up comedy tours. His penmanship is also a force to be reckoned with, having crafted the undeniably iconic Three Lions football anthem (which he penned with the afore mentioned Baddiel) as well as my favourite piece of his work, A Comedian’s Prayer Book. He’s always been open about his Catholic faith, determined to ‘keep his hand up’ as a (very often the) Christian in any given room. Frank’s faith has been, and still is, shot through everything he does – even his ‘sinning’.

This conversation was always going to be interesting.

And as such, there are many things one could take away from this conversation with Frank. Perhaps the value he places on doubt as a tool of refinement and source of growth, or his comparing of Richard Dawkins and Christopher Hitchens to bullies at a Christian disco, or even his efforts in ‘responsible sinning’. It’s a fascinating conversation from beginning to end, as I rather embarrassingly told him to his face, I enjoyed "every moment of it."

However, there was one salient question that was left lingering in my mind days after our conversation ended – are we (by ‘we’, I mean Christians) interesting?

There’s been a theme that’s run through Re-Enchanting thus far, prevalent in our conversations with Jennifer Wiseman, Paul Kingsnorth, Francis Spufford, and now Frank Skinner. And that theme is this: in the context of our 21st Century cultural moment, Christianity is profoundly weird, and that weirdness is the very basis of its power. It cannot, and should not, be blended into the so-called secular moment we find ourselves in. This is confronting for me, someone who has admittedly spent her life watering down the ‘oddest’ parts of Christianity (only in public, I should state) in an attempt to make it more palatable to my secular peers. As a result, I’ve ashamedly become the type of Christian that Tom Holland would tell to ‘grow up’. Well, if one finds themselves somewhat disillusioned with such a boring ‘no-man’s-land’ of compromised belief, this episode is certainly the perfect antidote. In fact, this entire series is.

Frank is only interested in the weird. In the un-graspable. In the outrageous. The way he speaks of interactions with his (beloved) atheist friends made it seem as though atheism is one of the most obvious things one could claim to be, meaning that there’s nothing particularly interesting about it:

“There’s something I find a bit confusing about people in the 21st century saying “this is how daring I am – I’m going to come out as an atheist”… atheism given over as if it’s a brave stance. I’ll show them a brave stance, and it’s not atheism.”

Speaking , in comparison, of sitting in Mass in his local church, looking on as his priest holds up a piece of wafer declaring that it is the Saviour of the world, Franks says,

“in the 21st Century, the idea that there’s a God, that he’s got a lamb, a representative that came to earth, that he takes away the sins, and that here he is in this bit of wafer… it’s outrageous. I don’t like the idea that we have to go to them (atheists). It’s made it (Christianity) a dull half-way house."

Hence this lingering question: are Christians actually the more interesting ones? My conversation with Frank made me think that we may just be.

Even though, as I have mentioned, the entire conversation was one to remember, it was the final five minutes that that truly ticked the ‘re-enchanting’ box for me. Justin and I, along with our guests, have often discussed Christianity as ‘the greatest story every told’, but Frank introduces us to Christianity as a

“living poem, super poetry, poetry that’s physical, poetry made flesh, poetry that actually exists.”

And not only that, but

“we are a part of that poem, we just need to step into it. There is a blank line waiting for us…”

How beautiful. It’s clear that, to Frank Skinner, Christianity is not only very interesting, it’s profoundly enchanting. Listen to the first episode of Re-Enchanting Season 2 enjoy Frank’s disconcerting ability to make you simultaneously laugh lightly and ponder deeply.

Review

Culture

Film & TV

7 August 2024

9 min read

Deadpool and Wolverine admit there’s only one story worth telling

Here's why a knowing take on post-modernity's void strikes a chord.

James Lawrence

James is Canon Missioner at Blackburn Cathedral. He researches technology and theology at Oxford University.

Two superheroes, deadpool and Wolverine, stand and crouch respectively, in a desert like place.

'A desert of criticism and a wasteland of cynicism.'

Disney.

Can Marvel Jesus save a dying cinematic universe? That's the key question for the latest film from Marvel Studios and, it would seem at least from the box office, that the answer is: yes!

Deadpool & Wolverine, the snarky buddy comedy odd-ball team-up between Ryan Reynolds and Hugh Jackman, made over $590 million in its first week. That’s the sixth biggest opening of all time.

What follows is not a traditional review, you can find plenty of those online already. Instead, I want us to consider Deadpool & Wolverine as a cultural artefact that displays some of the key themes of our society. The stories that we tell, including the films that Hollywood produces, can act as a mirror to our culture, giving us an opportunity to see trends that we might have otherwise missed. 

As a mirror to this cultural moment, I want to suggest that Deadpool & Wolverine presents us with a cynical and nihilistic take on the end of an era in which all the protagonists can do is barrage the audience with an endless stream of jokes and quips.

The third instalment of the Deadpool trilogy is the first to be set in the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) since Disney acquired the rights to 20th Century Fox for $71.3 billion. Until now all the X-men movies, the Wolverine movies, the prequels and the Deadpool movies have been produced by 20th Century Fox. But it’s the start of a new chapter for the X-men franchise.

The Disney executives hope for a new lease of life for the MCU, which has been struggling to find its way ever since the epic conclusion to Avengers: End Game. Of course, ordinarily, this sort of corporate back and forth would be irrelevant when thinking about the themes of a movie, but, in this case, the business backdrop is effectively a major plot-point of the film.

A significant portion of the dialogue is spent discussing the acquisition of the X-men franchise by Disney. Deadpool talks about what Kevin Feige (president of Marvel Studios) will and won’t allow in his films. A major action set-piece takes place next to a ruin of the 20th Century Fox logo. Deadpool jokes with Wolverine that he is joined the MCU when they are in a bit of a slump, and, when Deadpool is asked to save the universe, he takes this to mean that he should save the entire MCU franchise describing himself as ‘Marvel Jesus’. The movie knows that this film is the product of a business deal, and it wants its audience to know that too.

So, this film takes place at the end of an era and to highlight this throughout the film, a series of high-profile cameos are made by actors and characters from the last 24 years (no spoilers here). They are brought into the movie so that they might be given a final send off. A heroic on camera action hero death, one last valiant fight before the curtain falls. In a sense, Deadpool & Wolverine is a eulogy to the comic film industry, an era has passed away, we live only in the ruins of a once great edifice and all we can do is joke around and reminisce about the good old days

Deadpool’s is a dark humour, laughing death in the face, traipsing around the trash heap at the end of time incessantly spouting one-liners.

The scepticism Deadpool and Wolverine exhibits about the movie industry, correlates neatly with a post-modern disposition to be suspicious about the role of power. Deadpool knows, and points out to his audience, that it is only the vested interests of corporate power that allow this film to take place, and he revels with delight when these corporations seem to be failing. He is under no illusions that the studios are benign entities who merely hope to make worthwhile art - Deadpool is a cynic, the jester, who takes great satisfaction in declaring that the emperor has no clothes.

Coupled with this is the constant breaking of the fourth wall. This is one of Deadpool’s foundational characteristics, he has been breaking the fourth wall since his earliest appearance in the comics and the previous two films. Deadpool uses this ability to deconstruct and point out some of the quirks of the superhero genre. For example, in the first film when a villain jumps into the scene from a great height, Deadpool says to the audience: “Superhero landing. She's gonna do a superhero landing… You know, that's really hard on your knees.” (This joke is repeated in Deadpool & Wolverine).

The deconstructionist tone contrasts sharply with Marvel’s previous movies, particularly the grand narrative which spanned 22 films and culminated in Avengers: Endgame- an unashamed mythic narrative about the defeat of evil and the triumph of good over bad. Yes, there were jokes and subversive elements in the MCU before Deadpool, but in the main the characters like Captain America are sincere and the movie takes them and their motivations seriously. Deadpool in contrast delights in deconstructing the narrative: Marvel’s grand narrative is over, Fox’s cinematic universe is over, and it is unclear if they will be able to successfully tell another epic mythic story.

All of this, I imagine, sounds quite dystopian and that is not just how the film feels but also serves as the set piece for the middle section of the story. The misadventure of Deadpool & Wolverine lands both characters in “the void at the end of time” a place described as a Mad Max set, a barren desert where only the strongest survive by dominating the weak. In this hellish environment, Deadpool is completely unphased, he continues to make joke after joke, despite multiple characters in the movie telling him to ‘shut up’, and he displays zero remorse when his joking around results in other characters being killed. The humour of this film is the final element which makes it feel very post-modern and nihilistic. Deadpool and Wolverine are left in a hellscape and all they can do is fight with one another and make non-stop sarcastic quips. Deadpool’s is a dark humour, laughing death in the face, traipsing around the trash heap at the end of time incessantly spouting one-liners.

Paul Ricoeur, the French Christian and philosopher describes in his work two instincts in modernity: a ‘willingness to listen’ and a ‘willingness to suspect.’ The willingness to suspect is best exemplified by the three ‘masters of suspicion’, Karl Marx, Friedrich Nietzsche and Sigmund Freud. Following these masters of suspicion, modernity has learnt to be critical and to criticise texts, narratives, motives and power. Ricoeur thinks that we need both instincts, we need to be able to listen and we should be able to suspect, but, he cautions post-modern society that it is possible to find yourself in a desert of criticism in which there is nothing symbolic, nothing sacred, nothing but power and will. I have never seen a better depiction of the ‘desert of criticism’ put to film than Deadpool’s void at the end of time.

Perhaps the film is doing this because this is, in fact, the only story worth telling.

All of this was bubbling around in the back of my head when the film came to its final climax. It is my experience of the finale that made me want to write this review of the film. After almost two hours of post-modern nihilism, in the denouement, our two protagonists are faced with the classic superhero choice to sacrifice themselves so that they can save their universe from imminent destruction. And, of course, like good superheroes, they go willingly into danger and give up their lives for the sake of their friends.

I had such a strange set of emotions as I watched this part of the story unfold.

Firstly, I thought “Oh, right, this is the moment when the hero sacrifices himself- that is obviously what comes next.” I have been conditioned by decades of superhero films to expect this sequence of events at the end of the movie. But secondly, I found myself thinking. “This is so out of place with the rest of the film, this is pure sentimental heroics, we’ve just had two hours of cynicism and fourth wall breaking and the climax of the whole thing is a traditional superhero ending?!” And then, lastly, I found myself wonderful, ‘Perhaps the film is doing this because this is, in fact, the only story worth telling- that everything up to this point has only been playing at cynicism because, at a fundamental level, the filmmakers realise that cynicism and scepticism aren’t enough to make a compelling story.”

Western society feels as if it has lost its narrative. It is as if, just like the MCU, our best story is behind us, and we are flailing to find a new story.

Deadpool & Wolverine is a strikingly resonant film, it has struck a chord with contemporary culture. The film offers us a mirror to the contemporary society in which we live and I think we must look deeply into the mirror if we are going to accurately diagnose the ills of our current cultural moment.

Many people today feel like they are living in a desert at the end of time, devoid of meaningful symbolism and sustenance for the soul. The hollowing out of meaning in post-modern Western culture has resulted in a tinderbox which is ready to combust at a moment's notice. “Over the last month we have seen riots breakout across England caused by an incident in Southport that sent sparks flying.”. Relatedly, contemporary Western society feels as if it has lost its narrative. It is as if, just like the MCU, our best story is behind us, and we are flailing to find a new story. Look at the average Netflix viewing figures to discover that many of us only enjoy watching re-runs of our favourite TV shows from 10 years ago.

The cynicism and scepticism of Deadpool & Wolverine resonates with many people in the contemporary West, and the film offers two ways of reacting to the pain of our cultural moment.

For most of the film Deadpool saunters through this nihilistic hellscape spouting a barrage of gags, sex-jokes and sarcastic quips- that is the first option, to laugh in the face of meaninglessness. But for the climax of the movie, it’s as if the writers knew that they couldn’t maintain the ruse. When the characters of Deadpool and Wolverine make the choice to sacrifice themselves for the sake of others they choose to live for something bigger than themselves. They admit in their actions that they aren’t the nihilists they were pretending to be, and the film acknowledges that in the final analysis there is nothing ultimately satisfying, nothing ultimately sustaining, in that way of being in the world.

Or, to put it another way, the only way that Deadpool could become ‘Marvel Jesus’ is by following in the footsteps of actual Jesus: by sacrificing his life for those whom he loved and by discovering that true life, resurrection life, is always and only ever found on the far side of death.

Paul Ricoeur writes that ‘beyond the desert of criticism, we wish to be called again’, called to a second, or post-critical naïveté. Naivete is a deliberately provocative term to use, no one wants to be considered naïve (even postcritically naïve!), so perhaps you might prefer to think of it as synonymous with restored or as experiencing a recollection of meaning. I think many people in the West today are waking up to the challenge of living in a desert of criticism and a wasteland of cynicism. The capacity to criticise is an important skill, but it has run rampant and left out society with a void of meaning in which nothing is sacred, nothing is enchanted.

Deadpool & Wolverine speaks of a culture desperately in need of a new story, a narrative within which meaning can be found. The film paints in vivid imagery the result of a society that has lost its narrative. And, in the end, Deadpool and Wolverine seems to admit that there is only one story worth telling: self-sacrificial death and resurrection.