Showing posts with label Netflix. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Netflix. Show all posts

Wednesday, October 9, 2013

The Gospel of Orange is the New Black

by Rebekah Mays

I recently finished watching the first season of the new Netflix series Orange is the New Black. The hilarious, steamy, and poignant show tells the story of Piper Chapman, a woman who goes to prison because she helped her girlfriend carry drug money several years prior.

OITNB is worth checking out for a number of reasons, one of which is that the show has a great sense of humor. The cast of characters Piper meets (and becomes friends and foes with) is diverse, fascinating, and hysterical.

The show can also be quite serious at times, and it touches on a number of tough social issues – America’s severely flawed criminal justice system, addiction and substance abuse, sexism, racism, classism, homophobia, transphobia, abortion. Religion, and the bigotry that can come with it, is also on the list of topics the show sets out to investigate.

Without too many spoilers, I want to examine two of the main religious plotlines in the show. The first is the more central, in which Tiffany “Pensatucky” Doggett, a former meth-addict turned completely-insane-Bible-thumper, starts terrorizing Piper for exploring her sexual identity while she’s incarcerated.

Tiffany is an interesting, if revolting, character, and is as hilarious as she is frighteningly hypocritical. She gains a flock of devoted followers who marvel at the healings she performs in the name of Jesus; meanwhile, she spews terrible homophobic slurs against the other inmates, also in the name of Jesus. As the season continues, she grows increasingly psychotic and violent, a gripping warning to anyone who would simultaneously defend Christianity while hating others.

In her slightly less evil phase, she tries to baptize Piper, and while Piper at first goes along with it to keep the peace, she eventually sticks up for herself and defends her own beliefs. Piper describes herself as a sort of humanist, saying, “I believe in science. I believe in evolution. I believe in Nate Silver and Neil deGrasse Tyson, and Christopher Hitchens… I cannot get behind some supreme being who weighs in on the Tony Awards while a million people get whacked with machetes.”

I nodded along during Piper’s speech, even if I disagree with her ultimate conclusion. In my book, her point of view is a lot closer to reality than Tiffany’s distorted vision. But I think I’d be disappointed if Tiffany’s version of Christianity and Piper’s version of humanism were the only two religious perspectives we saw in the show. While, sadly, homophobic Jesus fanatics like Tiffany are all too real in our world, it would be unfair to suggest that this is what Christianity looks like across the board.

Thankfully, the show doesn’t stop there.

Perhaps the more complex, if not quite as dramatic, religious plotline is the relationship between Sister Ingalls, a nun who we are told is in prison for some kind of political activism, and Sophia Burset, a smart, sweet, and gorgeous transgender woman who is the prison’s hair stylist.

Their relationship starts out on a bad foot, with Sophia cozying up to the sister to gain access to her estrogen pills. But what begins in an awkward, manipulative encounter develops into a genuine friendship. Sister Ingalls is a modest, strict, and stereotypically devoted Catholic in most ways, but shocks the audience a few times with some glorious zingers. She encourages Sophia to “be strong” for her family and adds, “Inside, you already have the Playboy body.”

And Sophia, though she originally only feigns interest in faith and the Church, begins seeking out the sister for real counsel. When Sophia’s wife Crystal gets lonely and develops a crush on their pastor, the nun gives Sophia some surprising advice, encouraging her to do the right thing and give Crystal her blessing to pursue the relationship, since marrying another woman is not what Crystal signed up for.

Sister Ingalls is probably not anyone’s favorite character in the show, and she’s certainly not a perfect human being, either, sometimes coming across as snobby and judgmental toward the other inmates. But despite her clear flaws and moments of self-interest, (which every character in the show possesses) it’s very refreshing to see the writers of the show not just attack bigotry, but demonstrate some kind of desirable alternative that is much more faithful to what Christianity, and religion in general, claims as its essence.
 
Like any good piece of pop culture, OITNB made me stop and consider my own place among these different perspectives. Sister Ingalls’ behavior made me wonder if I would be as kind and accepting to someone who was outside my experience and frame of reference as Sophia was to hers. Meanwhile, Sophia’s backstory helped me sympathize with the struggles and heartbreaks of going through gender reassignment surgery. Surely, these are very tiny steps to becoming a better, more loving human being. At the same time, I wonder if the show is working a similar transformation on others’ perspectives of the Church and/or religion, offering them a new possibility to see with renewed eyes. It’s worth hoping. Or, as one inmate says when comforting a friend, “there’s always hope—tomorrow’s taco night.”

Rebekah Mays is a Barnard College graduate originally from Austin, Texas. She currently works and writes in Prague, Czech Republic. You can find more of her writing on her blog Iced Spiced Chai or follow her on Twitter @smallbeks.

You can follow On Pop Theology on Twitter @OnPopTheology or like us on Facebook at www.facebook.com/OnPopTheology.

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Thursday, May 30, 2013

God Doesn't Want You To Be Happy: Hemlock Grove and Dysfunctional Christianity

Hemlock Grove, Eli Roth, Netflix, horror, TV show, werewolves

by Charity Erickson 

Eli Roth’s Netflix series Hemlock Grove impressed me with its ambitious scope. It is a pretty straightforward murder-mystery—it follows the investigation into a series of grizzly killings in small-town Pennsylvania. Over time, it becomes an homage to the horror genre (replete with punishing attitudes toward female sexuality, unfortunately), overflowing with allusions to classic literature and film. Ubiquitous symbolism invokes Freud, Lao Tzu, mythic themes, and “the hero’s journey.” There’s also a really sweet vampire-werewolf bromance.

The structure is recursive—there are points of plot and dialogue that do not make sense until you go back after watching the season in its entirety.  Because of this, I almost gave up on the show after the first two episodes; I kept feeling like I must have missed something. I don’t know if this structural risk makes the series more entertaining or more frustrating, but it certainly makes it fun fodder for English-major nerdery.

For our purposes, the most interesting character on the show is Dr. Clementine Chasseur, (Battlestar Galactica’s Kandyse McClure.) From the standpoint of nerdery, I can’t help but wonder if “Chasseur” isn’t a wink at Ferdinand de Saussure, the father of structural linguistics and semiotics.

And from the standpoint of pop culture and theology, the character proves just as fascinating: Chasseur is an alcoholic ex-Marine who comes to investigate the murders as part of a mysterious monster-hunting order of the Catholic Church. She wears an icon around her neck of St. Jude, “the patron saint of lost causes.” She is a lesbian, repressed, and filled with self-doubt. And she is fond of repeating this desperately sad phrase with vigorous conviction: “God doesn’t want you to be happy. He wants you be strong.”

saint jude, patron saint of lost causes, medallion, Hemlock GroveEvery time this line makes an appearance in the series, I cringe at the pain behind it; I have wrestled with this way of seeing God. There was a time when I, too, struggled to make sense of the pervasive, overwhelming unhappiness that weighed on me despite scripture’s characterization of joy as a “fruit of the Spirit,” something that was supposed to naturally develop within a truly Spirit-filled Christian.

And since I believed that God controlled all extant circumstances in the universe, and that the Bible was merely language with no art, I began to believe that it was not within God’s will for me to be happy, and that joy must be something other than what I’d always thought it to be. (I was depressed, actually, and an addict, too; I didn’t know it though. My theology didn’t allow for a good Christian to be afflicted in such a way.)

But this theology that says “God doesn’t want you to be happy” is not really theology at all. It is a coping mechanism. For the dysfunctional Christian without access to more helpful theology, this way of seeing God gives him a sense of control by making his pain understandable, while also giving him permission to wallow in the familiar, “safe” space of his sickness. Instead of seeking rest and grace, he tries to power through, to be “strong.” But this only adds to his burdens. And when he teaches those around him that it is not for the Christian to grasp at happiness, he creates for himself a sick, joyless faith family that confirms his view of God.

Not that Hemlock Grove is saying this in any explicit way. Even after my second time through the series, I can’t quite put together exactly what the show is trying to say through the post-modern narrative play, literary content and institutional critique. Maybe it’s saying something about the way we use scripts—the sayings and stories that we use to conceptualize our reality—and how they can keep us in sickness and suffering, or perhaps worst of all, how they can keep us scared.

The Terror, Flaming Lips, nothingness, terror, musicOr maybe it’s just a scattered, sophomoric experiment in narrative form from those who have read just enough Derrida to be dangerous. 

Yet, even if the writers had no exhaustive plan to connect all the pieces of the story in a fully-comprehensible way, there is something here in the world they created, something that draws the viewer into this world of monsters, as it promises some kind of special insight into the human psyche. It sends the mind searching down dreamy, almost-familiar corridors that may lead either to terrors or to nothingness—which, I suppose, is a variety of terror. In any case, it is worth it to explore, and even to enjoy this world as much as possible, knowing that when the final credits roll, the horrors are over.

Charity Erickson and her husband Lance live and work together in the suburbs of Minneapolis, Minnesota. Check out her blog for more of her writing and follow her on Twitter @CharityJill.

You can follow On Pop Theology on Twitter @OnPopTheology or like us on Facebook at www.facebook.com/OnPopTheology.
 
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