Titus Techera

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Why won't Indiana Jones convert to something after all he has seen in his life?

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Why won't Indiana Jones convert to something after all he has seen in his life?

By the end of "Raiders of the Lost Ark," archaeologist Indiana Jones had learned enough to know that he should close his eyes when facing the wrath of God.

Apparently, that kind of power can melt Nazis -- without changing the hero's soul.

"Why won't Indiana Jones convert? We aren't insisting that he convert to our faith or to his father's faith or really to any faith in particular," noted Jack Bennett, in a Popcorn Cathedral video marking the "Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny" release.

"What we want to know is why he is always back to square one at the start of every adventure -- a skeptic, or even a scoffer. I mean, think about it: He has seen the Ark of the Covenant opened and the destroying angels pour out God's vengeance on his enemies. He has seen the sacred Hindu stones come to life. …He has seen the true cup of Christ heal his own father from a fatal gunshot wound -- on screen, with no ambiguity."

In what the 80-year-old Harrison Ford has promised is the finale, Indiana Jones remains the archaeologist who risks everything to keep supernatural, even holy, artifacts out of the bad guys' clutches.

This is a war between archetypes of Good and Evil -- with capital letters. The Nazis are on one side, fighting with a brave skeptic who careens through scenes based on Saturday-matinee classics. Miraculous stories from the past are mere fairy tales, until he learns that Higher Powers are at work. Then again, maybe it's just aliens or generic supernatural forces.

In the new film, Jones confesses: "I don't believe in magic, but a few times in my life I've seen things, things I can't explain." But after a life wrestling with sacred mysteries, he concludes: "It's not so much what you believe. It's about how hard you believe it."

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Norm Macdonald: Wisecracks about big, eternal questions while his clock ticks louder

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Norm Macdonald: Wisecracks about big, eternal questions while his clock ticks louder

Comedians frequently take shots at taboo targets, but that wasn't what Norm Macdonald was doing when he addressed Down's Syndrome while solo recording what became the new "Nothing Special" on Netflix.

"I love people with Down Syndrome," said Macdonald, in a no-audience performance packed with his familiar pauses and bemused expressions. "I wish I had Down Syndrome, and I'll tell you why. They're happy. You know what I mean? …

"What's wrong with that? … People get mad at them … and they pity them. Now, who's the bad person in that scenario?"

The former Saturday Night Life star -- who died September 14 after a secret nine-year fight with cancer -- recorded nearly an hour of material during the coronavirus pandemic, before yet another operation in the summer of 2020. He said he "didn't want to leave anything on the table in case things went south."

This Netflix finale offers fresh musings on mortality and morality that, with Macdonald's blunt language and haunting images, evolve into meditations on how modern people deceive themselves. The X-factors in his art were religious faith and his love of literature ranging from Mark Twain to Fyodor Dostoyevsky.

"Macdonald showed respect for basically everyone, with the exception of himself and people like O.J. Simpson and Bill Clinton," said Rich Cromwell, a television professional and essayist for The Federalist. "He was not a Christian comedian -- that's clear. But that was part of who he was, and he treated faith with respect. …

"This Down's Syndrome material is a perfect example. He didn't turn that into an overt argument about abortion, but it's clear that he is saying all life is worthy of respect, even if some people don't judge that life to be worthy. He's saying people with Down's Syndrome are God's children, no matter what."

"Nothing Special" ends with an A-list reaction panel -- David Letterman, Adam Sandler, Conan O'Brien, Dave Chappelle, David Spade and Molly Shannon -- who knew Macdonald as a friend and colleague. This special was full of "third-rail stuff," noted O'Brien.

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Lessons learned about Christmas past -- by watching classic movies of 1940s

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Lessons learned about Christmas past -- by watching classic movies of 1940s

It's a black-and-white movie Christmas, with snow falling as joyful families mingle on city sidewalks while window-shopping -- buying food, presents, decorations and fresh-cut trees for festivities that are only two days away.

For Americans, this scene represents the ghost of Christmas past, long before suburban malls, big-box scrums and Amazon.com. And as "The Bishop's Wife" opens, an angel -- a graceful Cary Grant -- enters this 1947 tableau, smiling at carolers and children and helping the needy and lost.

"Christmas is always in danger in Christmas movies -- we'd have no reason to make such movies otherwise," wrote critic Titus Techera, executive director of the American Cinema Foundation. In this classic movie, "we have a remarkable concentration of problems in one household: A man's faith, his family, community and church … are all tied together."

It isn't unusual to find miracles, tight-knit communities, glowing churches and parables about human choices, temptation, sin and redemption in old Christmas films, said Techera, contacted by Zoom while visiting Bucharest.

That's why Techera -- a native of Romania, before his work brought him to America -- has written four online essays about the lessons learned from watching '40s movies that were remade in the '90s. The other films in this Acton Institute series are "The Shop Around the Corner," "Miracle on 34th Street" and "Christmas in Connecticut."

There's a reason many modern Americans keep watching these movies, he said. Some yearn for a time before most Americans became so isolated, separated by jobs far from extended families, sprawling suburban neighborhoods and all the paradoxes built into digital networks that were supposed to keep people connected.

"What we see in these movies is a time when Christmas was a far less commercial celebration and there was quite a bit of continuity with traditions from the past. … For many, the church was part of that," he said. "Christmas was a family thing. It was a community thing. … Commerce was more subservient to ordinary life. Commerce had not taken over all of life, including Christmas."

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That strange sermonette that Chris Pratt tricked MTV viewers into swallowing

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That strange sermonette that Chris Pratt tricked MTV viewers into swallowing

Everyone knows what the angelic nanny Mary Poppins meant when she sang:  "A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down."

Hollywood superstar Chris Pratt put a different spin on that during the recent MTV Movie & TV Awards. After receiving the Generation Award, he told fans to "listen up," because he was speaking "as your elder." Then he recited what CNN called his "Nine Rules for Living."

It was a strange set of commandments -- part potty humor, part youth-pastor sermon. But Rule No. 4 said this: "When giving a dog medicine, put the medicine in a little piece of hamburger and they won't even know they're eating medicine."

That's what Pratt was doing. The megastar of Guardians of the Galaxy and the Jurassic Park reboots followed the MTV rules and used some mildly off-color humor -- like how to poop at a party without smelling up the bathroom. These MTV celebrity-fests are known for their racy fashion statements and crude language.

That humor was Pratt's "hamburger." What caused a tsunami of Internet clicks was his "medicine," speaking as an out-of-the-closet Hollywood Christian.

Rule No. 2 proclaimed: "You have a soul. Be careful with it."

Rule No. 6 was rather personal: "God is real. God loves you. God wants the best for you. Believe that, I do."

Rule No. 8 was just as blunt: "Learn to pray. It's easy, and it's so good for your soul."

There was more to this drama than the rare chance to hear a "Hollywood A-lister tell people to pray," noted film critic Titus Techera of the Claremont Institute. Pratt was trying to turn celebrity worship upside down.