The Chronicles of Narnia
The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe
Andrew Adamson's film version of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe opens with dropping bombs - a decision which is justified by the the story's wartime England milieu, but which nevertheless feels oddly and uncomfortably resonant in today's military climate. The Pevensie children are driven from London to the countryside by the Nazis, that evil empire against whom their father is fighting overseas. Not long after, however, they enter the titular wardrobe and are placed in another, parallel conflict against usurping "Queen of Narnia" the White Witch; a heavily idealized battle steeped in Christian imagery, stark good-vs.-evil binaries and Arthurian chivalry. It all serves to make one wonder just what to make of C.S. Lewis' religiously-motivated WWII escapism in the midst of these decidedly un-WWII times.
Because no matter what the hawks might say, "good" and "evil" are far more abstract terms today than they were in 1950. The war in Iraq has no Hitler, no monstrous, genocidal bogeyman to rally against - unless you count Osama bin Laden (unrelated) or Saddam Hussein (out of commission). Instead, as in Vietnam, we are confronted with a bewildering jumble of conflicting forces and motivations - a mess against which neat notions like "good guys" and "bad guys" just can't hold up. We know now, as we did not know (or would not accept) then, that American bombs are dropping on innocent civilians, women, families. The contrast between Narnia's dramatized air raids and Iraq's real ones could not be more distinct, simply because "we," the aggressors, are here meant to identify with victims Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy. Throw in the glittery conflicts in Narnia itself, a level playing field where literally lionized good is easily distinguished from literally demonized evil, and Narnia's political intentions become even more eyebrow-raising.
Is it wise to be dealing in such strictly-divided oppositions here, now, when the lines between right and wrong have never been blurrier? Adamson seems to think so, as he translates Lewis' parable with a relish that goes beyond the merely literal. The children are forced to accept responsibility in the face of an overwhelming wickedness. They rise to the occasion; they kill, and their killing is pardoned for their cause is just. Is it just liberal paranoia to look at these symbolic moments and see, somewhere lurking in the background, the smoldering remains of 9/11's twin towers? If so, then you might as well accuse the religious right of the same: they've been rallying around this movie, praising its values in the midst of an industry they famously revile. And well, we all know where the religious right's votes and money go. Mind you, I'm not nearly so conspiracy-minded as to believe that The Chronicles of Narnia is a balls-out excuse for the war in Iraq. But a film like this one, which effectively plugs its fingers in its ears and refuses to acknowledge the shades of grey between white Aslan and black Witch while the real world continues to exist in full color, must be viewed with a certain amount of caution.
But by no means should it not be viewed at all. Narnia is actually a rather entertaining, consistent fantasy flick, occasionally reaching perfection in its adaptation of the book: Tilda Swinton (Broken Flowers) as the White Witch and James McAvoy (Bright Young Things) as Mr. Tumnus the Faun especially seem to have stepped from the very pages of Lewis' beloved prose. Elsewhere, Liam Neeson's voice of Aslan manages to anchor the film with natural charisma, while ten-year-old newcomer Georgie Henley lights up her scenes as Lucy with sheer adorability. Sure, as evidenced by Harry Gregson-Williams' bombastic, New-Agey and often grating score (as well as flat, if competent, performances by most of the underaged leads), this Narnia is not without its flaws. But it easily trumps the 1988 BBC version - not to mention the latest Harry Potter - and its mix of preteen coming-of-age with PG-rated medieval warfare plays out like The Lord of the Rings' scrappy younger brother.
So what is it about The Chronicles of Narnia that makes it feel, well, a little suspect? Maybe it's just the right-wing PR campaign, always a safe bet for leaving bad tastes in progressive mouths. Maybe it's that Passion of the Christ-lite sequence where Aslan is humiliated, sacrificed and resurrected. Or maybe it's just the bloodthirstiness with which Adamson goads his young protagonists into war, leading one to wonder what happened to C.S. Lewis' much-vaunted pacifism. One just gets the sense that The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe is the wrong movie at the wrong time. That maybe, just maybe, we need something for our children besides fairy tales about good and evil. After all, if you grow up hearing these stories and nothing else, you have a tendency to start living them...just ask George W. Bush.
A film by Andrew Adamson
(Walt Disney Pictures)
(Walt Disney Pictures)
Andrew Adamson's film version of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe opens with dropping bombs - a decision which is justified by the the story's wartime England milieu, but which nevertheless feels oddly and uncomfortably resonant in today's military climate. The Pevensie children are driven from London to the countryside by the Nazis, that evil empire against whom their father is fighting overseas. Not long after, however, they enter the titular wardrobe and are placed in another, parallel conflict against usurping "Queen of Narnia" the White Witch; a heavily idealized battle steeped in Christian imagery, stark good-vs.-evil binaries and Arthurian chivalry. It all serves to make one wonder just what to make of C.S. Lewis' religiously-motivated WWII escapism in the midst of these decidedly un-WWII times.Because no matter what the hawks might say, "good" and "evil" are far more abstract terms today than they were in 1950. The war in Iraq has no Hitler, no monstrous, genocidal bogeyman to rally against - unless you count Osama bin Laden (unrelated) or Saddam Hussein (out of commission). Instead, as in Vietnam, we are confronted with a bewildering jumble of conflicting forces and motivations - a mess against which neat notions like "good guys" and "bad guys" just can't hold up. We know now, as we did not know (or would not accept) then, that American bombs are dropping on innocent civilians, women, families. The contrast between Narnia's dramatized air raids and Iraq's real ones could not be more distinct, simply because "we," the aggressors, are here meant to identify with victims Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy. Throw in the glittery conflicts in Narnia itself, a level playing field where literally lionized good is easily distinguished from literally demonized evil, and Narnia's political intentions become even more eyebrow-raising.
Is it wise to be dealing in such strictly-divided oppositions here, now, when the lines between right and wrong have never been blurrier? Adamson seems to think so, as he translates Lewis' parable with a relish that goes beyond the merely literal. The children are forced to accept responsibility in the face of an overwhelming wickedness. They rise to the occasion; they kill, and their killing is pardoned for their cause is just. Is it just liberal paranoia to look at these symbolic moments and see, somewhere lurking in the background, the smoldering remains of 9/11's twin towers? If so, then you might as well accuse the religious right of the same: they've been rallying around this movie, praising its values in the midst of an industry they famously revile. And well, we all know where the religious right's votes and money go. Mind you, I'm not nearly so conspiracy-minded as to believe that The Chronicles of Narnia is a balls-out excuse for the war in Iraq. But a film like this one, which effectively plugs its fingers in its ears and refuses to acknowledge the shades of grey between white Aslan and black Witch while the real world continues to exist in full color, must be viewed with a certain amount of caution.
But by no means should it not be viewed at all. Narnia is actually a rather entertaining, consistent fantasy flick, occasionally reaching perfection in its adaptation of the book: Tilda Swinton (Broken Flowers) as the White Witch and James McAvoy (Bright Young Things) as Mr. Tumnus the Faun especially seem to have stepped from the very pages of Lewis' beloved prose. Elsewhere, Liam Neeson's voice of Aslan manages to anchor the film with natural charisma, while ten-year-old newcomer Georgie Henley lights up her scenes as Lucy with sheer adorability. Sure, as evidenced by Harry Gregson-Williams' bombastic, New-Agey and often grating score (as well as flat, if competent, performances by most of the underaged leads), this Narnia is not without its flaws. But it easily trumps the 1988 BBC version - not to mention the latest Harry Potter - and its mix of preteen coming-of-age with PG-rated medieval warfare plays out like The Lord of the Rings' scrappy younger brother.
So what is it about The Chronicles of Narnia that makes it feel, well, a little suspect? Maybe it's just the right-wing PR campaign, always a safe bet for leaving bad tastes in progressive mouths. Maybe it's that Passion of the Christ-lite sequence where Aslan is humiliated, sacrificed and resurrected. Or maybe it's just the bloodthirstiness with which Adamson goads his young protagonists into war, leading one to wonder what happened to C.S. Lewis' much-vaunted pacifism. One just gets the sense that The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe is the wrong movie at the wrong time. That maybe, just maybe, we need something for our children besides fairy tales about good and evil. After all, if you grow up hearing these stories and nothing else, you have a tendency to start living them...just ask George W. Bush.
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