Nov 20, 2023·edited Nov 20, 2023Liked by Christopher B. Barnett
Hi there Chris and Amy! (warning: long post ahead!) I really enjoyed your conversation about Dead Man Walking and Dogville, and it was notable how the theme of responsibility for one's actions and the critical aspect of dignity tied both of your selections together. I was highly motivated to listen in because I had watched Dogville back in 2004 when I was 19 with my sister who is about the same age as Chris and she was really keen to think about the film theologically with me then too. I actually re-watched it twice before I listened to you as I found that once was hardly enough to grapple with what can be such a perplexing work -- the theological/spiritual engagement factor in Dogville I think is tantalizing but sometimes more nebulous or demanding than it first appears.
I like the thematic focus that Chris took which is to fully center on the theme of judgment. Dogville is a film that takes up the question of final judgment or even hell with moral and aesthetic seriousness. Chris quoted the dialogue between Grace and "the Big Man," where the mobster confronts Grace with what he deems as her arrogance: that she forgives and exonerates people instead of holding them accountable for their actions. The kicker in his argument is how he puts it to her that she would not exonerate herself had the roles been reversed and she had been one of the residents of Dogville who had so abused and exploited someone else. In denying accountability to the residents of Dogville, Grace is arrogant because she is denying their own humanity as well as her own, she's arrogantly put herself above humanity and above reality with her limitless forgiveness and exoneration. And here I have to agree with Chris that in an age where so many at least in the left-leaning theological academy and church tend to avoid the question of hell and divine judgment, that the way by contrast Von Trier takes us the audience with the "God's point of view" in the minimalist staging *along* with Grace in also coming to her father's side about Dogville: that to deny the residents of Dogville accountability is to deny something essentially real and true and human. The residents of Dogville rationalized and acclimatized their way in to the worst possible behavior, to the point where the children are ringing the church bell in a twisted celebration every time a man rapes the bound up Grace, and the way that the tight-knit loyalties between the townspeople in their kind of diabolical pact against Grace seemed to them to normalize what they were doing: but in the end "the big man" helps convince Grace that she is wronging them and herself to simply limitlessly forgive. I think an added detail with how the film makes this theme of judgment commendable is the way that Grace is given choices to look away from the punishment that happens to the town, but she chooses not to, she even chooses to herself take the gun to Tom Edison Jr. She has to face him and his words, his face, in fact he's the one to turn away from her.
So all that in my last paragraph was to kind of come along and agree with the line of your conversation and to contribute you my own insights to support. I guess what I want to add too is how challenging or uncomfortable the film makes me on the topic of divine grace itself. Unconditional grace is kind of the theological 'home turf' for myself as a Lutheran, the unilateral, scandalous grace that Luther found from how he interpreted Paul's epistles that freed his conscience and set him free. So I don't want to quickly say that I think the way that Grace potentially allegorizes neatly lines up with a classic Lutheran framework or anything like that but simply to say that's the kind of uncomfortable situation that the film raises for me. I think that you can make a case for of the opening third of the film where the apparent drama is whether or not the townsfolk will accept Grace or not has its share of pathos in its own right: this is where the film before we get to "Dogville bares its teeth" seems to be not too far off from "Our Town!" I like the scene where Nicole Kidman, Grace, makes the "shady provocation" which turns out to be drawing the blind man (who is so well acted by the way) to honestly face and talk about his blindness and how he can't see the light he so often waxes eloquently about in reminisce. We the audience can feel that perhaps she's gone too far with this risky gracious acceptance of his true condition and way her advance helps him peel back some of the fictions he's tried to live by, and then in the Fourth of July scene I felt triumphant with Grace when the blind man speaks openly in front of the others that he's not going to pretend to read any notes in his speech. Grace is not merely a passive forgiver of sins in this way, as she is with Ben of the freight industry, in talking openly with him about his visits to prostitute "Miss Laura" Grace does have some effect that is of her own courage in talking about the weaknesses, shames, losses that the townspeople carry. And yes, there's a way that echoes the Jesus of the Gospels too at least to some degree I think in say Jesus' conversation with the Samaritan woman at the well or I'm sure many other comparisons. Yet there's no doubt at all that Grace's unlimited compassion can seem so disturbing, that can seem to go so far as to simply unconditionally accept them in their evil actions so that compassion verges on something sinister and empty: this is what "the Big Man" seems to say where what might seem like Grace's "New Testament" approach could also be the nihilism that sees humans as completely not as worthy of any judgment but as objects conditioned and determined by circumstance. If Grace approaches Ben with acceptance and honesty about going to the whorehouse, when does helping liberate him from shame and dishonesty in a kind of beautiful way like that of the blind man about his blindness turn into something sickly inseparable from reducing him to nothing better than the workings-out of his drives? When does "unconditional grace" become dehumanizing? But, when Grace does protest Ben in the apple cart or when she tries to stop Chuck from assaulting her by appealing to the value of their friendship, or when she does protest Jason's horrific manipulation in trying to get her to spank him, she is showing here too the limits to her forgiveness. She does say "no" to Tom Edison Jr., that "it would be so easy for us to make love, and from the perspective of our relationship it would be so wrong" and her "no" to Tom does offend Tom and that's important for the plot, it's what provokes him to make the call to "The Big Man." I'm going into this level of detail to make the case for the difficult of the allegory that Grace's character presents, while at worst she seems dangerously close to dehumanizing them in her limitless forgiveness, at critical dramatic moments she doesn't actually give them blank acceptance where she resists verbally and it seems to me important to catch the nuances for any implications on the allegory to divine grace. She's actually overpowered physically by them and so while her verbal "no" does accompany the stance of Christlike kenosis and openness she embodies, it is her body that on its own is no match for the violence of the townsfolk around her.
Ok, to try to wrap up as I've gone on way too long here: going back to the exchange between Grace and "the Big Man" in the car, I agree that the film is so provocative for taking the audience along with Grace to her father's side about judgment upon human evil, in taking hell seriously. What I'm not sure about, what's a puzzle for me, an uncomfortable puzzle, is whether *grace* acceptance, forgiveness, itself, the movie nihilistically implies, is itself inhuman. I can imagine a secular humanist wanting to say something like, well, what about a world where Grace was more assertive and had her rights more protected, and the heaven-or-hell dialectic between forgiveness and judgment wasn't left so wide in the film's vision but rather there were proportionate punishments and mature discussions between adults in a "world come of age" .... but then at least I think that the secular humanist here might be left haunted by the question of the depth of evil that the film dares to provoke or portray. The evil that seems pretty unshakeable in its true-to-life quality here is the way that the townpeople can together rationalize gradually a deeper and deeper state of exploitation, the way that they kind of bond together against Grace the outsider in this way.
Sorry for long post --- I really enjoyed the discussion and try to keep up with Chris' work on the blog.
One more quick note! What did you all think of Paul Bettany's American accent!? I thought it was almost convincing. Chris you've spent a lot of time over there so you'd be a good judge. I could tell he was a Brit though, but I guess I knew that already going in. It's funny to have the roles reversed- usually it's Americans (and Canadians) imitating British accents.
He accidentally drops the American accent at times but, on the whole, pretty convincing! It’s a good performance. I can sympathize with him but also can’t gainsay his final reckoning!
Really interesting comments Ole! Pardon what may be a “cringey” (!!) reference, but your comments remind me of an interview I read with Bono years ago, when he defended U2’s song “Grace,” saying that grace is simply no longer in fashion in today’s world. So I think you’re on to something: von Trier brings a “double offense,” that of raising the specter the hell and that of forcing us to confront what grace and forgiveness may actually entail. Both, as you’re suggesting, sit uneasily in our world today. And this may indeed shed light on Christianity’s rapid decline over the last 50 years. Of course, that same decline says nothing about whether or not Christianity is true…
Hi there Chris and Amy! (warning: long post ahead!) I really enjoyed your conversation about Dead Man Walking and Dogville, and it was notable how the theme of responsibility for one's actions and the critical aspect of dignity tied both of your selections together. I was highly motivated to listen in because I had watched Dogville back in 2004 when I was 19 with my sister who is about the same age as Chris and she was really keen to think about the film theologically with me then too. I actually re-watched it twice before I listened to you as I found that once was hardly enough to grapple with what can be such a perplexing work -- the theological/spiritual engagement factor in Dogville I think is tantalizing but sometimes more nebulous or demanding than it first appears.
I like the thematic focus that Chris took which is to fully center on the theme of judgment. Dogville is a film that takes up the question of final judgment or even hell with moral and aesthetic seriousness. Chris quoted the dialogue between Grace and "the Big Man," where the mobster confronts Grace with what he deems as her arrogance: that she forgives and exonerates people instead of holding them accountable for their actions. The kicker in his argument is how he puts it to her that she would not exonerate herself had the roles been reversed and she had been one of the residents of Dogville who had so abused and exploited someone else. In denying accountability to the residents of Dogville, Grace is arrogant because she is denying their own humanity as well as her own, she's arrogantly put herself above humanity and above reality with her limitless forgiveness and exoneration. And here I have to agree with Chris that in an age where so many at least in the left-leaning theological academy and church tend to avoid the question of hell and divine judgment, that the way by contrast Von Trier takes us the audience with the "God's point of view" in the minimalist staging *along* with Grace in also coming to her father's side about Dogville: that to deny the residents of Dogville accountability is to deny something essentially real and true and human. The residents of Dogville rationalized and acclimatized their way in to the worst possible behavior, to the point where the children are ringing the church bell in a twisted celebration every time a man rapes the bound up Grace, and the way that the tight-knit loyalties between the townspeople in their kind of diabolical pact against Grace seemed to them to normalize what they were doing: but in the end "the big man" helps convince Grace that she is wronging them and herself to simply limitlessly forgive. I think an added detail with how the film makes this theme of judgment commendable is the way that Grace is given choices to look away from the punishment that happens to the town, but she chooses not to, she even chooses to herself take the gun to Tom Edison Jr. She has to face him and his words, his face, in fact he's the one to turn away from her.
So all that in my last paragraph was to kind of come along and agree with the line of your conversation and to contribute you my own insights to support. I guess what I want to add too is how challenging or uncomfortable the film makes me on the topic of divine grace itself. Unconditional grace is kind of the theological 'home turf' for myself as a Lutheran, the unilateral, scandalous grace that Luther found from how he interpreted Paul's epistles that freed his conscience and set him free. So I don't want to quickly say that I think the way that Grace potentially allegorizes neatly lines up with a classic Lutheran framework or anything like that but simply to say that's the kind of uncomfortable situation that the film raises for me. I think that you can make a case for of the opening third of the film where the apparent drama is whether or not the townsfolk will accept Grace or not has its share of pathos in its own right: this is where the film before we get to "Dogville bares its teeth" seems to be not too far off from "Our Town!" I like the scene where Nicole Kidman, Grace, makes the "shady provocation" which turns out to be drawing the blind man (who is so well acted by the way) to honestly face and talk about his blindness and how he can't see the light he so often waxes eloquently about in reminisce. We the audience can feel that perhaps she's gone too far with this risky gracious acceptance of his true condition and way her advance helps him peel back some of the fictions he's tried to live by, and then in the Fourth of July scene I felt triumphant with Grace when the blind man speaks openly in front of the others that he's not going to pretend to read any notes in his speech. Grace is not merely a passive forgiver of sins in this way, as she is with Ben of the freight industry, in talking openly with him about his visits to prostitute "Miss Laura" Grace does have some effect that is of her own courage in talking about the weaknesses, shames, losses that the townspeople carry. And yes, there's a way that echoes the Jesus of the Gospels too at least to some degree I think in say Jesus' conversation with the Samaritan woman at the well or I'm sure many other comparisons. Yet there's no doubt at all that Grace's unlimited compassion can seem so disturbing, that can seem to go so far as to simply unconditionally accept them in their evil actions so that compassion verges on something sinister and empty: this is what "the Big Man" seems to say where what might seem like Grace's "New Testament" approach could also be the nihilism that sees humans as completely not as worthy of any judgment but as objects conditioned and determined by circumstance. If Grace approaches Ben with acceptance and honesty about going to the whorehouse, when does helping liberate him from shame and dishonesty in a kind of beautiful way like that of the blind man about his blindness turn into something sickly inseparable from reducing him to nothing better than the workings-out of his drives? When does "unconditional grace" become dehumanizing? But, when Grace does protest Ben in the apple cart or when she tries to stop Chuck from assaulting her by appealing to the value of their friendship, or when she does protest Jason's horrific manipulation in trying to get her to spank him, she is showing here too the limits to her forgiveness. She does say "no" to Tom Edison Jr., that "it would be so easy for us to make love, and from the perspective of our relationship it would be so wrong" and her "no" to Tom does offend Tom and that's important for the plot, it's what provokes him to make the call to "The Big Man." I'm going into this level of detail to make the case for the difficult of the allegory that Grace's character presents, while at worst she seems dangerously close to dehumanizing them in her limitless forgiveness, at critical dramatic moments she doesn't actually give them blank acceptance where she resists verbally and it seems to me important to catch the nuances for any implications on the allegory to divine grace. She's actually overpowered physically by them and so while her verbal "no" does accompany the stance of Christlike kenosis and openness she embodies, it is her body that on its own is no match for the violence of the townsfolk around her.
Ok, to try to wrap up as I've gone on way too long here: going back to the exchange between Grace and "the Big Man" in the car, I agree that the film is so provocative for taking the audience along with Grace to her father's side about judgment upon human evil, in taking hell seriously. What I'm not sure about, what's a puzzle for me, an uncomfortable puzzle, is whether *grace* acceptance, forgiveness, itself, the movie nihilistically implies, is itself inhuman. I can imagine a secular humanist wanting to say something like, well, what about a world where Grace was more assertive and had her rights more protected, and the heaven-or-hell dialectic between forgiveness and judgment wasn't left so wide in the film's vision but rather there were proportionate punishments and mature discussions between adults in a "world come of age" .... but then at least I think that the secular humanist here might be left haunted by the question of the depth of evil that the film dares to provoke or portray. The evil that seems pretty unshakeable in its true-to-life quality here is the way that the townpeople can together rationalize gradually a deeper and deeper state of exploitation, the way that they kind of bond together against Grace the outsider in this way.
Sorry for long post --- I really enjoyed the discussion and try to keep up with Chris' work on the blog.
One more quick note! What did you all think of Paul Bettany's American accent!? I thought it was almost convincing. Chris you've spent a lot of time over there so you'd be a good judge. I could tell he was a Brit though, but I guess I knew that already going in. It's funny to have the roles reversed- usually it's Americans (and Canadians) imitating British accents.
He accidentally drops the American accent at times but, on the whole, pretty convincing! It’s a good performance. I can sympathize with him but also can’t gainsay his final reckoning!
Really interesting comments Ole! Pardon what may be a “cringey” (!!) reference, but your comments remind me of an interview I read with Bono years ago, when he defended U2’s song “Grace,” saying that grace is simply no longer in fashion in today’s world. So I think you’re on to something: von Trier brings a “double offense,” that of raising the specter the hell and that of forcing us to confront what grace and forgiveness may actually entail. Both, as you’re suggesting, sit uneasily in our world today. And this may indeed shed light on Christianity’s rapid decline over the last 50 years. Of course, that same decline says nothing about whether or not Christianity is true…