Rango

Keywords: Identity, relationships, hero, selflessness
Film title: Rango
Director: Gore Verbinski
Screenplay: John Logan
Starring: Johnny Depp, Isla Fisher, Timothy Olyphant,
Cinema Release Date: 14 February 2011 (USA) 4 March 2011 (UK)
DVD Distributor: Paramount Home Entertainment (UK)
DVD Release date: 10 May 2011 (USA); 25 July 2011 (UK)
Certificate: PG (USA) Contains rude humour, language and smoking; PG (UK) Contains mild threat and violence


A nameless chameleon with protruding eyes, skinny neck, a penchant for long words, and an inclination to heroics is launched out of the back of his owner’s swerving car and, at the same time, out of his monotonous, self-centred existence. He finds himself in the middle of the Mojave Desert, surrounded by the shattered pieces of his terrarium and the remaining paraphernalia of his theatrical pastime. Following the advice of a wizened armadillo, the lizard leaves the highway and heads out into the desert in search of water and a frontier town called Dirt. The bright-coloured chameleon is a stark contrast to the medley of scaly, slimy and mangy creatures that inhabit the lawless outpost. An obvious outsider, he needs to make a good impression on this wily bunch and so he reinvents himself as Rango (voice of Johnny Depp), a legendary lizard who killed the Jenkins brothers – all seven of them – with one bullet. By a stroke of luck, Rango becomes the swashbuckling hero he always wanted to be, and is nominated sheriff for the drought-stricken town.

Rango is the clever conception and pet project of director Gore Verbinski. Filled with witty dialogue and subtle references to classic Westerns like Once Upon A Time In The West and Chinatown, it is a movie that will delight children and adults alike. Verbinski decided to buck the current 3D trend, and the resulting 2D product is commendable in its portrayal of gorgeous desert vistas and detailed characters, for which visual consultant Roger Deakins, director of photography on the Coen brothers’ films can be credited.

Rango is entirely unprepared for life in the desert; out of his element in this hostile environment he is desperately trying to blend in. Considering he is a chameleon, this should be easy, but unfortunately it isn’t. As a pet lizard at the start of the film, Rango is isolated and preoccupied with himself, whiling away the hours by acting as the hero in Shakespearean plays. However, as the movie progresses there occur several instances where he is confronted by the question, ‘Who am I?’ Verbinski highlights these moments by zooming in as Rango’s face freezes and the background darkens. Rango’s usual response is, ‘I could be anyone.’ He chooses whom he fancies being this time round and then promptly steps into character. So while he can easily act as whoever he chooses to be, he doesn’t know who he really is. The movie explores various existential themes through Rango’s search for an identity, and in the process raises a few questions for us to mull over: Can we be anyone we want to be? Or are we made with a specific identity? The Bible claims that God made each of us in his own image but with individual identities. But when we used the freedom God gave us to rebel, and go our own way, that image was marred. So while, to a large extent, our decisions mould our character and we can choose who we want to be, all of us have characteristics that are reflections of our maker.

Rango always dreams of being the hero. Perhaps, in his visualisati  ring audience, P P 0 inti P ' BC^ b2/ z L3 L4 C s, super-powers and Spandex, or figures like James Bond and Robin Hood. But doesn’t true heroism highlight a serving attitude and selflessness to the point of death?

According to this definition, Jesus is the most incredible hero of all time. As the Son of God, he loved us so much that he came to this world as a human being to take the punishment we so rightly deserved for our rebellion. He did that because he knew that the only way we could come back into a relationship with God was if he died instead of us, and so free us to choose whether or not we wanted to accept his sacrifice and reconnect with our maker. Now that kind of selfless giving seems like something only the ultimate hero would do. If heroism is one of God’s characteristics, that will explain why we, who are made in his image, all long to be the champions of our story.

For Rango, the realisation that heroism actually means serving comes slowly. In a predictable turn of events, his lies eventually catch up with him, and he is humiliated and evicted from Dirt. He heads out into the desert again, where in a daze he crosses the busy highway unscathed and makes it over to the proverbial ‘Other Side’. Again, as an indication of the movie’s existential leanings, the Other Side – visually, an over-exposed salt flat – can be interpreted as a depiction of heaven. Here Rango encounters the Spirit of the West (voice of Timothy Olyphant), who reprimands him for ‘walking out on his own story.’ Rango realises that the choices he has made so far have been primarily to gain new friends and be popular. The movie plays with the familiar western trope of a run-down town in need of a saviour, and its unlikely hero. Rango’s solitary life has made him self-centred. But now it is no longer only about him; it is about them – his friends. Now he must be, not who he wants to be, but who his new friends need him to be. His life-long uncertainty about his identity is resolved when he realises that the relationships he has built dictate, to a large extent, who he is supposed to be. Rango walks into the blinding light and there receives an understanding of his destiny. He becomes the person the town folk needed him to be. He becomes their hero.

If that is true for Rango, could it be true for us as well? The Bible says that when we agree to enter into a relationship with God, he calls us out of the darkness of our rebellion and into his marvellous light1 so that we can then represent God to others in our words and actions. Do our relationships define our identity? And if so, would a relationship with God give us a clearer understanding of who we were truly made to be?

The Fighter

Film title: The Fighter
Tagline(s): Every dream deserves a fighting chance
Director: David O. Russell
Screenplay: Paul Tamasy, Scott Silver, Eric Johnson
Starring: Mark Wahlberg, Christian Bale, Melissa Leo, Amy Adams
Cinema Release Date: 10 December 2010 (USA) 2 February 2011 (UK)
DVD Distributor: Vision Video (UK); Universal Studios (USA)
DVD Release date: 02 December 2002 (UK); 14 January 2003 (USA)
Certificate: 15 (UK); R (USA) Contains strong language and hard drug use


Warning: This article contains plot spoilers

The Fighter is as much a movie about a family’s fight for reconciliation, as it is about a boxer and his comeback to the world of welterweight championship. Based on a true story, the film is set in Lowell, a town languishing in industrial decline. Micky Ward (Mark Wahlberg) is a light welterweight boxer, who has had a run of defeats against badly matched opponents. These fights were arranged by Dicky (Christian Bale), his trainer and older brother, and by his mother, Alice (Melissa Leo), a know-it-all nagger, who runs her family of nine children and a timid husband with a tight reign.

All his life, Micky has lived in the shadow of his loud-mouthed, attention-seeking, elder brother. Surprisingly, for a boxer, Micky is a quiet, shy guy. Aware of his mother’s favouritism towards Dicky, he deals with being sidelined by retreating into a desperate silence. Family loyalty leads him to be clannish to the point where he cannot voice his frustration about his domineering mother, clingy sisters and overbearing brother without feeling guilty. He falls in love with Charlene (Amy Adams), a tough-talking waitress who encourages him to maintain a healthy distance from his family and set clear boundaries in his relationship with them.

Things begin to change when Dicky is sent to prison. Micky finds a new trainer and, with support from his father and Charlene, breaks away from his mother’s management and hires a new manager. Soon enough, he begins winning every match he fights.

One of the central themes is Micky’s struggle to separate himself from his family and to make an identity for himself. If we are to utilise our abilities and follow our dreams, it is often necessary that we first sort out the issues from our past that have the potential for affecting our future adversely. As the old proverb goes, we don’t get to choose the family we’re born in, and it can be very difficult to distance oneself from the influence of a destructive family. Micky found it incredibly hard admitting that the people who were supposed to be his family had let him down. He felt that his identity, and his talent as a boxer, was tied up with his relationship with his family. He needed the support of someone who believed in him because of who he was, not because of who he was related to. Charlene gave him the courage he required to define boundaries with his family. However, she would have preferred him to have nothing more to do with them from then on. She helped him on his way to finding out who he was when he wasn’t being influenced by his family. Clearly, the message being spelt out here is that, to become who you were meant to be, you need to get rid of the baggage that families can sometimes become.

However, in a deciding match before the title bout, Micky’s boxing plan fails miserably, and he takes a beating round after round until he resorts to the tactics his brother taught him, which leads to a win. He realizes that he needs to continue training with his brother, if he is going to use his potential to the utmost. Charlene, however, feels that Micky is risking his success on the chance that Dicky will prove to be reliable, and she decides to leave rather than watch him fail. Knowing that Micky needs the stability and support that she can offer, Dicky goes after Charlene and convinces her to return. And so the brothers begin training together again, and the Ward family attempts to be less criticising and more attentive to Micky’s opinion.

Families are important; other than the obvious fact that we need parents to bring us into being and then to nurture us, we are also relational beings by nature and our development into mature adults depends on the relationships we have growing up. The Bible very clearly explains that God intended that we live as part of families, and that we have a mutual responsibility within the framework of a family to make it work.



At first Micky resorts to the extreme of cutting himself off from his family as he tries to figure out who he is as an individual. We empathise with his need for a separate identity, as it is a need experienced by us all at some point. According to the Bible, our identity, in itself and in relation to others, needs to be found in our relationship with God. As human beings, we are created in the image of God. If that is true, perhaps we would find out more about ourselves if we can find out more about him. And while we can try various sources of information to find out more about God, the best way to get to know him would be by developing a relationship with him. However, the Bible also says that we all have rebelled and fallen short of God’s standards, and our imperfection acts as a barrier between us and God’s perfect nature. But despite our imperfections, God loves us and wants to give us a new identity in his family. The only solution to that problem was Jesus dying on the cross, to endure the punishment we deserved. In doing so, he made a way for us to come back to God. Accepting God’s offer of forgiveness for our rebellion allows us to become what God wants us to be. And since God is our maker, who would better know what we are supposed to be like, and what our identity should consist of? This realisation releases us from the need to live up to the unhealthy expectations that society tends to place on us and instead frees us to live, with God’s help, according to his expectation.

And perhaps that is a better way of getting rid of the baggage from our past, rather than, like Micky, getting rid of our families’ altogether. The Fighter demonstrates this note of reconciliation when the brothers get back together to train for the title match. Micky wins not only because he sets boundaries with his family, but also because he is able to rely on their support when he needs to. In the final scene, his family, his trainers, his girlfriend and his manager join him in the ring to celebrate his victory, which he would not have achieved without them all.

The Beaver

Film title: The Beaver
Tagline(s): He’s here to save Walter’s life
Director: Jodie Foster
Screenplay: Kyle Killen
Starring: Mel Gibson, Jodie Foster, Anton Yelchin, Jennifer Lawrence
Cinema Release Date: 16 March 2011 (USA) 17 June 2011 (UK)
DVD Distributor: Summit Home Entertainment
DVD Release date: 10 October 2011 (UK); 23 August 2011 (USA)
Certificate: 12A (UK); PG-13 for mature thematic material, some disturbing content, sexuality and language including a drug reference (USA)



There is something lacking in all of us – a missing piece. There’s a little bit of a black spot or a dark space.

For Walter Black (Mel Gibson), that dark space has been growing for a while. He feels powerless against it, and can only watch helplessly while it engulfs him completely. He is unable to deal with life and is unhappy with the person he has become. Instead he finds it easier to just zone out, and becomes unproductive. He drifts along, going through the motions, just existing. He is absent as a father, unreliable as a husband and uninspiring as a CEO. We find him in this state in the opening scene of the movie, floating on a lilo with a glazed expression. But when his suicide attempt goes awry, Walter reaches for the beaver, a glove puppet he found in a dumpster. It is his attempt to engage with life once more – but to do so from a distance, and so he uses the Cockney puppet to communicate with everyone he meets. He believes that the darker side of his nature is so beyond help that everyone, including himself, needs to be kept away from it.

Once the beaver is on the scene, Walter is transformed as a person and things begin to change for the better. He plays with his younger son, becomes the attentive husband and takes his company to new heights with his innovation. In a way, he almost seems to finally attain that ability to engage with life, even if it is just superficially, and from behind the safety of a furry puppet. However, because he isn’t dealing with the problem of his mental illness, but with just its symptoms, things slowly begin to deteriorate behind the farce that he is living.

Director Jodie Foster, artfully details the development of the beaver from puppet to person, in both Walter’s consciousness as well as the audience’s perception. There are scenes where Walter is completely out of the frame and it becomes difficult to remember that the beaver is actually a repressed aspect of Walter’s nature that is finally being given expression in a destructive manner. The beaver almost seems to be a separate entity with a, sometimes sinister, opinion.

As Walter/the beaver puts it, "We start to see ourselves as a box that we're trapped inside and no matter how we try and escape – self help, therapy, drugs – we just sink further and further down. The only way to truly break out of the box is to get rid of it all together . . . I mean, you built it in the first place. If the people around you are breaking your spirit, who needs them? Your wife, who pretends to love you; your son, who can't even stand you – I mean, put them out of their misery!"
Sometimes we tend to place a buffer between ourselves and our weaknesses or faults, but if we aren’t careful that buffer can become our weakness. In Walter’s case, the moulting beaver causes him more harm than good. It seems for a while that the puppet is actually helping him, but when his wife, Meredith (played by Foster), finds out that the beaver is not a therapeutic measure suggested by his psychiatrist, she realises that he has become a danger to himself. Walter stubbornly refuses to get rid of the beaver, and instead watches his wife and children move out. Interestingly, throughout this time, Walter believes that he is ‘under the care’ of the puppet, and yet it is the puppet that holds him back from going after the people who love him most. With time, Walter recognises that he has to make a choice between the beaver and his family; he needs a new start, for which he will have to make a clean break and let one of them go. So in a drastic step, Walter makes a decision that alters the course of his life. It also leads him to reconcile with his family and, with their support, to deal with his mental health issues.

Marc Lee from The Telegraph captures the quality of the movie in his review, describing it as ‘dark and unsettling but funny, too, with a winning quirky charm’.1 He commends Foster’s directorial skill as she maintains a fine balance between the portrayal of the comical and dismal aspects of the story. While the movie received a hearty ten-minute standing ovation when screened at the Cannes Film Festival, it opened to mixed reviews from film critics, possibly due to the negative press surrounding Mel Gibson’s personal life. Perhaps the role of Walter Black as a disturbed and depressed individual struck too close to home to Gibson’s recent misdemeanours in real life.

The Beaver reconfirms the idea that we have virtually no control over what happens to us; that bad things happen to good people, and that pain is a part of life, the obvious moral being that escapism is not the solution. Ignoring problems will not make them go away; admitting that they exist, however, is the first step towards resolving them.

There is an aching truth behind Walter’s words, a longing for a new start, as he says in an interview,

‘We reach a point where, in order to go on, we have to wipe the slate clean. . . . Starting over isn't crazy. Crazy is being miserable and walking around half asleep, numb, day after day after day. Crazy is pretending to be happy. Pretending that the way things are is the way they have to be for the rest of your bleeding life.’

This cry for help isn’t only Walter’s cry; it is echoed by all of humanity. And according to the Bible, Jesus is the only one who has come up with a satisfying answer to that cry of desperation. In a drastic step of his own, Jesus died on the cross in our place, accepting the punishment for our rebellion and making God’s forgiveness available to us. When we come to God and admit that we have done things our own way, and that we want to accept the open invitation of a relationship with Jesus, the Bible says our past is wiped away and God forgives our disobedience. He offers us a brand new start, with him leading us through life this time round. In the light of this offer, it does seem crazy to continue being miserable, to continue living life on the surface, to continue pretending that ‘Everything will be OK,’ as Walter’s son, puts it. Through Jesus Christ, the offer to turn our lives around in now available; but ultimately the choice must be ours.

And when all is said and done, which of us would not give our right arm for a new beginning?

Source Code – The Relentless Ticking of the Clock

What would you do if you had only a minute to live?

Time and time again, Captain Colter Stevens (Jake Gyllenhaal) is faced with the certainty of death. He finds himself on a Chicago-bound train, opposite a woman named Christina Warren (Michelle Monaghan), whom he doesn’t recognise, but who is chatting to him as though she knows him. Bewildered by her familiar attitude, Stevens seeks refuge in the toilet where, to his horror, he finds that the face in the mirror is not his own. Rifling through the wallet he finds in his pocket, he realises that he is in the body of a suburban school teacher, just as an explosion rips through the train.

With this opening scene, Duncan Jones’s sci-fi thriller Source Code draws the viewer into the fast-paced, nail-biting plot for the next hour and a half. Tightly scripted by Ben Ripley, the movie shuttles back and forth between a time in the recent past, and the present. Immediately after the explosion, Stevens finds himself in a pod-like container where he is told that he is under the command of Officer Colleen Goodwin (Vera Farmiga) and Dr Rutledge (Jeffrey Wright). He learns that he has been drafted into a top-secret scientific mission to prevent a series of bomb attacks on Chicago. The military has developed a futuristic technology called ‘source code’ by which they can reassign time for a certain period in the past. Now, his task is to go back to the eight minutes before the explosion to try and identify the bomber.

Thematically, the movie borrows heavily from films like Groundhog Day, Sliding Doors and even Inception. Theoretically, the concept itself is full of holes, but while it doesn’t hold up to close scrutiny it does make for good cinema. The story line required three main sets between which the plot moves: the train, the mysterious pod where Stevens finds himself between source codes, and the scientific lab from where Goodwin and Rutledge direct his entry into each source code. Jones’s challenge was to keep the story fresh and engaging for the audience, despite the repetition of the same scenes. He managed to keep the plot gripping enough by giving the audience exactly the same amount of information as the characters. Gyllenhaal and Monaghan are excellent, bringing slight nuances to each repeated depiction of the same scene. Each time Stevens is hurled into a source code to gather more evidence, two things happen simultaneously - the idea that he can actually prevent the explosion from happening altogether grows stronger, and he finds himself falling a little more for Christina.

Before becoming a director, Jones trained in philosophy, and in this story, as in his debut Moon, he continues to explore questions of identity and the implications of the possible mutability of time. And while, according to Philip French of The Guardian, ‘the proliferation of recent scientific and technological discoveries more than hint at the possibility of such matters [like time reassignment] moving on from metaphor to reality’1, it hasn’t happened yet. Time still does not wait for any man and it still cannot be changed. If anything, the movie stresses the importance of living fully in the now. Desperate to prevent another tragedy from happening, Stevens uses every minute in each source code to search for clues about the bomber, and about his own identity. In his last source code, Stevens doesn’t know if his plan to save the train is going to work, and the nearness of death brings him face to face with the dearness of life. With eight minutes to go, Stevens makes choices that reveal his priorities in life – he makes a call to his father with whom he had parted on a strained note, kisses the girl he has begun to fall in love with, and encourages a compartment full of indifferent commuters to somehow connect despite their differences.

Isn’t it interesting that in the last moments of his life, Stevens focuses on the most important aspects of life? Making amends, patching relationships, letting past hurts go, and present loves know. But why does it always take a crisis before we begin to make changes to those things that really matter in life? Why do we allow things that shouldn’t have a place in our lives to linger – broken relationships, cruel barbs we so heedlessly throw in a moment of spite, unsaid words of love and reconciliation? Do we allow ourselves to be lulled into numbness by the anaesthetic routine of life, denying the pain we cause and receive? Will it take the unavoidability of death to jolt us out of that numbness? And by then will it be too late? Or do we think that if we ignore the inevitability of death, we might actually avoid it?

For Stevens, it was the reality that he had moments to live that made him want to set things right. All of us have made mistakes in life; we all have regrets. At some point or another we have all given in to the selfishness of our nature and made choices that go against our consciences. Time and again we choose to rebel against God, hurting others and dulling our conscience in the process. We live as though there will be no accounting for our lives. The certainty of death, however, has a way of putting life into perspective, and the movie’s tagline captures the longing we have for one more chance to ‘change the past, [and] save the future’. While the past is unchangeable, the future can still be saved. Prompted by his sense of duty, Stevens chose to enter into another reality to stop the bomber and save the passengers on the train. On the other hand the Bible says that Jesus is the Son of God who entered into our reality because he loved us. He chose to become a human being and to take the punishment we deserved by dying in our place. If we believe that he did this for us, and accept his offer of a relationship, our past will be forgiven and he offers us a brand new future with him beside us. Here is a chance to make the changes we long for - to ask for forgiveness for all the pain we have caused, and to start again with a clean slate. And while we may still have to live with the consequences of our past, we can live knowing that we are forgiven by God. We don’t have to wait for a crisis; we can choose whether we want to accept that offer now.

We don’t know when we will die, but it is certain that we will. We might have more that just eight minutes to live, but we all are on a train that’s hurtling towards the end of time, and now is the time to make a decision.

Driven by Thirst: Meek's Cutoff

Director: Kelly Reichardt
Screenplay: Jonathan Raymond

Starring: Michelle Williams, Bruce Greenwood, Will Patton, Paul Dano, Shirley Henderson

Distributor: Oscilloscope Pictures (USA); Soda Pictures (UK)

Cinema Release Date: 8 April 2011 (USA); 15 April 2011 (UK)

Certificate: PG (USA / UK) Contains infrequent mild violence and language

Warning: This article contains plot spoilers

Kelly Reichardt’s latest film, Meek’s Cutoff, leaves you thirsty. The arid landscape - the brown, ochre and yellow of the desert, the sparse scrub and bleached sky, the parched earth and cracked salt flats – leaves you feeling dry mouthed and dehydrated by the end of the movie. Meek’s Cutoff is not a stereotypical Western, with gun-slinging men, saloons and sheriffs. In fact, there’s almost nothing ‘western’ about this movie, other than its geographical location. Like her previous two movies, Wendy and Lucy and Old Joy, Reichardt has again made a road movie of sorts – only there is no ‘road’ in this historical drama, and canvas-covered wagons replace cars.

It’s 1845, and three pioneer couples, one with a twelve-year-old child, are being led off the Oregon Trail and over the Cascade Mountains via a supposed short cut by Stephen Meek (Bruce Greenwood), a mountain man and their guide. We first meet them as they ford a river. The arduousness of this task is stretched over the dialogue-free, first ten minutes of the movie, hinting at, and preparing the viewer for, the scarcity of words to come. Meek, who is anything but what his name suggests, is the only exception to this lack of conversation, and his flood of anecdotes and unasked-for advice make a blaring contrast to the minimal dialogue from the rest of the characters.

After trudging through windswept and scorching wasteland for days, the party realise that they are lost and that Meek is leading them blind. The men are riled and gather to discuss their dilemma, debating whether or not to shoot Meek and retrace their steps. True to nineteenth-century culture, the women have no say in the decision making. And as viewers, we too are only allowed to eavesdrop on the conversation from a distance, along with the bonneted women, which lets us sympathise with their lack of control over the future. Divided in their opinion over Meek’s fate, and swayed by his blustering bravado, the men decide to let him guide them on for a few more days before taking any action.
During this time the group captures a Cayuse Native American (Rod Rondeaux) who had been following them for a while. Meek is all for killing him immediately, claiming he’d lead ‘an army of heathen’ to them. However, Solomon Tetherow (Will Paton), the oldest man in the group, convinces the frightened party that they should keep the Indian alive since he probably knows the layout of the land and could lead them to water. And so once again the women fall in line with their menfolk’s decision and the wagon trail moves on – this time following the Indian.

Reichardt prioritises the women’s perspective of the journey - we see them grinding coffee, gathering firewood, mending clothes, and fixing meals, all after a long day of walking under an unrelenting sun. They stay with the canvas-covered wagons, and make camp while their husbands ride off to scout out the land ahead. Their opinion isn’t sought after or validated, and they depend entirely on their husbands for their survival in this harsh environment. At least, Millie Gately (Zoe Kazan) and Glory White (Shirley Henderson) do. Emily Tetherow’s character on the other hand, develops with the movie: she goes from being reserved and quiet, to more independent and vocal in her opinion, as the group’s supplies and endurance dwindle. Superbly played by Michelle Williams, Emily portrays the strength that pioneer women in the 19th century would have needed as they forged into unknown territory. While the men are easily led like dumb sheep, Emily isn’t taken in by Meek’s blundering lies. And when things come to a head with the capture of the Indian, she becomes the moral compass for the group, and the main contender against Meek.

The Cayuse Indian is never given a name; he isn’t even given a voice – his dialogue, in his native language, is not translated or subtitled for the benefit of either the characters or the viewers. Reichardt explains, ‘I didn’t want to give the audience any information that the immigrants didn’t have. They have to figure out what this person is all about without the resource of language.’ To the travellers he is a dangerous savage and a natural enemy.

To Emily, however, he becomes the last hope for a future. She is able to rise above her cultural upbringing and societal norms, to show him some kindness. Her initial motive is to do something for the Indian so that he would be indebted to her, and if a time came when she was at his mercy, she would have something to bargain with. But she slowly grows to trust this stranger and even stands up for him against Meek’s bullying.

But what is the Indian all about for us, the audience?

The movie’s ending is unresolved and ambiguous. Does Reichardt want the audience to decide for itself the consequences of the travellers following the Indian, or is she pointing towards the uncertainty that we all face when it comes to matters of trust? Seeing that the Indian eventually led the travellers to a tree that held out hope of water nearby – and through it, hope of life – can he possibly be likened to another man who held out hope of an eternal life? The question of the possibility of life after death cannot be answered for sure while we still live, but as mortals haven’t we all wondered, if there is more to this life? If there isn’t; if this is all there is, then doesn’t our existence seem a bit pointless? Somehow, there seems to be in all of us a longing for eternity, a thirst for a meaning to our existence. And Jesus offers to satisfy this otherwise unquenchable thirst. He said that the only way we could go to heaven, and have eternal life, is by believing in him. As preposterous an idea as that may seem, what if he were right? What if there is a heaven and the only way to enter it is through believing in Jesus Christ? Of course, we don’t know for sure; there is no foolproof guarantee that what he said was true. As Solomon puts it, ‘We don’t know, either way.’ But we do have to make a choice, and it will be a life-altering one: dare we trust Jesus’s claims? Maybe we ought to consider that question and its impact on our life while weighing the last line of the movie as Meek says,

We’re all just playing our parts now. This [the future, past, and present] was written long before we got here.

What if he was right?

This article was first published at http://www.damaris.org/content/culturewatcharticles/1296