LICC carried this review of the film version of War Horse, by Jason Gardner, which I found really interesting:
The Steven Spielberg film version of Michael Morpurgo’s renowned children’s book, War Horse – about the relationship between the titular animal and a faithful two-legged friend during the First World War – has had its own battle with the critics.
Some have applauded Spielberg, seeing echoes of grander days of Hollywood, drawing comparisons with westerns where the landscape played as great a part as the actors; and yes, there is schmaltz and melodrama aplenty, but it still manages to tug at the heart strings. Others have lambasted it for its idealised portrayal of rural England, cardboard acting, and the veteran director manipulating us to reach for the hankies during the horse’s plight. Even hardened film aficionados have been cursing Spielberg through their tears: ‘A horse?Caught in a war? Of course I’m going to cry!’
It’s not just critics reaching for the tissues. After seeing the film my wife found herself with a line of women in the loos having to readjust make-up because of tear damage.
Why do stories like this stir compassion within us? Perhaps because even though horses have been used for centuries to carry men into battle, in this film the horse is an innocent. The juxtaposition of that which is ‘pure’ surrounded by horror screams at us that something is wrong.
The horse isn’t the only innocent in the film. There’s the orphaned French girl and her protective grandfather, and a 14-year-old German soldier – lying about his age, too eager to be a man – and his protective older brother. And then there are the young Devonian men, ripped from the heart of the English countryside and thrown into war. This, in part, is why Spielberg overplays the rural landscape – to provide a stark contrast with the apocalyptic no man’s land of the Somme.
This instinct for outrage when innocence is attacked is arguably a trait inherited from our Father God. Time and again in the gospels when Jesus is faced with that which opposes God’s shalom, his intended wholeness for the world, he acts to help. The leper cries out, ‘If you are willing, you can make me clean’, and Jesus, ‘filled with compassion’, responds ‘I am willing… be clean’.
May the sight, even the very thought, of innocence betrayed continue to upset and disturb us, and may we act with the instinct, immediacy, and heart of Christ in response.
Jason Gardner
Youth Pastor, St Peter’s West Harrow
Damaris Culturewatch carried an article by Sophie Lister on the same film, and has a discussion guide:
When his drunken father (Peter Mullan) brings home a thoroughbred horse, Devonshire farm boy Albert (Jeremy Irvine) falls in love at first sight. Joey, as he names the spirited animal, is completely unsuitable for farm work – but this doesn’t stop Albert from bonding with him, even training him to plough in an act of defiance against the family’s grabbing landlord (David Thewlis).
But bigger forces are about to tear boy and horse apart. The First World War breaks out, and Joey is sold to Captain Nicholls (Tom Hiddleston), a cavalry officer. Their ride into battle is only the beginning of Joey’s journey, and as the war rages on, he passes through many different hands on all sides of the conflict. Surrounded by chaos and death, it seems unlikely that he will survive – but somewhere in the trenches is his beloved Albert, who has come looking for him. [more...]
Sophie Lister
Read the discussion guide on the CultureWatch website
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Education Sunday is a national day of prayer and celebration for everyone involved in the world of education. For more than 100 years there has been an annual recognition of Education Sunday in England and Wales (traditionally on the ninth Sunday before Easter).
