“Nobody cries at the end of a movie about a guy who wants a Volvo.” – Donald Miller
My brother got this book called A Million Miles in a Thousand Years from my sister for Christmas, so I stole it and read it in the car on our exciting family trip to see dad’s parents in dusty San Angelo. Written by Donald Miller (of Blue Lick Jazz fame), it chronicles Miller’s “reawakening” when two movie producers contact him about making a movie about his life. Miller soon learns his life is too boring for the silver screen–it has to be re-created and edited. This painful realization kick-starts his efforts to find meaning in life and apply the concepts of a good story on screen to life lived in reality.
On the whole, I thoroughly enjoyed the book. I appreciate his self-deprecating and honest style of writing, and he poses some profound questions. Good stories on screen usually follow certain formulas–perhaps life ought to mimic good movies more often? Are our lives boring because we don’t know how to tell good stories in the first place? Have we lost the art of the story and so let our lives drip into melancholic, suburban comfort? And are we afraid of risk? (Tim/Ben, I’ll try not to discuss the ideas or the book too much).
I think the most important thing to take from the book is that ideas and thoughts MUST lead to action. A good life is one that is lived. Daydreaming is reluctance. It is why I think it can be dangerous to read too many books and talk about ideas too much. This is my snare. It is too easy to trick yourself into thinking you have learned to live better or love better. Reading and discussing are often necessary to learning, self-discovery, and the forming of correct and coherent views, but as we all know–words are merely words unless followed with action. This is the essence of integrity. (I suppose everyone has integrity, some just with a system of beliefs other than they proclaim). Back to what I was saying, people are the sum of their choices/actions. I can say this or that but it will not be evident what I have truly taken a hold of until I am forced to act. Books can talk about ideas. Movies have to display action. The main character must be developed through action.
Robert McKee, an authority on writing and the art of story, explains:
Beneath the surface of characterization, regardless of appearances, who is this person? At the heart of his humanity, what will we find? Is he loving or cruel? Generous or selfish? Strong or weak? Truthful or a liar? Courageous or cowardly? The only way to know the truth is to witness him make choices under pressure, to take one action or another in the pursuit of his desire.
…Perhaps this is why we humans undergo trials: to prove what is really underneath our fantastical views of ourselves. I suppose change only comes from action, from seeing yourself for who you are, from seeing the consequences of your ideas in reality. We are characters being developed (or not) in our own stories. We have lives full of meaning and goals, or we have daydreams and wishes.
This focus on making meaning in life is the part of the book that concerns me the most. It seems that Miller realized his life was boring, and “oh, horror!,” his life was not something that everyone would be enamored with! He didn’t have any great stories to impress people with! While the author does realize the most important story (God’s story) and our role in it, I still get the feeling that the impetus for this book is about making a story that mostly you or I can be proud of, even though he couches it in terms of giving something you and God can talk about when you get to heaven, whatever that’s about.
While this thread in the book is slightly disconcerting, Miller does a good job of pointing out why movies appeal to us and where they let us down–in our world largely molded in terms of wish-fulfillment (think advertising) we hope to reach our story’s climax in this life. We think we will be complete with a certain job, the right vocation, a nice wardrobe, a particular relationship, a slick car, kids, whatever. These are climaxes of a sort. Movies always provide a climax, a happy or tragic ending. But our life’s resolution won’t happen until we reach heaven. We must recognize, as Miller phrases it, that we each are “a tree in a story about a forest.” A life of humility allows you to be happy because you don’t require the story to go how you want it to, you don’t expect things to fulfill you. He mentions the country of Denmark here. If you read it, remember Denmark.
So, movies are examples of great stories, and perhaps how life ought to be. They are often unrealistic or extraordinary. Why is that? Is it because people are afraid of living great stories? Is it because filmmakers focus on unrealistic events or ideas? I suppose it’s a mixture. The Blind Side was a great true story of a family that took in a homeless kid and raised him up to be a first-round NFL draft pick. The reason that is even a story for the cinema is because it doesn’t happen often. People on the whole aren’t that selfless. Then, people aren’t often first-round draft picks, either. Avatar was a great story because nothing like that ever happens to us (notice I used the passive tense!). We never have to defend a people group, risk our lives, and fall into a perfect love at the same time. Movies depicting love are by-and-large the most egregious offenders of reality. I watched Sleepless in Seattle with my sister last week, and while I have always enjoyed that movie, it encourages viewing relationships as fated (and only shows the romantic stage of love). You shouldn’t have to put too much work into a relationship if it was “meant to be!” As this news article and study so succinctly puts it, romance-related movies often don’t follow reality. Why is that?
I think it’s because movies satisfy the hope that is in all of us, whether rooted in reality or not, that we can live fantastic lives. If only we’d get out of our popcorn encrusted recliners.
