The Theology of Cinema: Guilt

“The danger of our guilt, both personal and collective, is less that we won’t take it to heart than that we’ll take it to heart overmuch and let it fester there in ways that we ourselves often fail to recognize.”

As many of you may know, I have a background in the academic study of theology, a B.A. in religious studies from the University of Virginia and a Masters of Divinity degree from Yale. So it is only natural I bring that perspective to how I view and understand movies and screenwriting.

Let me be clear, when I say theological, I mean it — in this context — in a secular way. How does that make sense?

The word “theology” is a combination of two Greek words: “theos” which means God and “logos” which means word. So theology is words about God. What if for this series we think of God as a metaphor for an explanation for the big questions of life? Thus, theology as words about the meaning of life. Broadly speaking that is one dynamic movies hit on consistently, characters forced to confront their values, behaviors, and world views related to who they are and how they should act.

In this respect, movies and theology wade in very much the same thematic waters. As Andrew Stanton noted about Lawrence of Arabia in this TED Talk, how the central theme of that story is the question asked of the Protagonist “who are you,” that issue exists at the core of perhaps every movie, an existential exploration of a character or characters’ self-identity. So, too, with theology.

Also, movies tend to be about characters at critical junctures in their lives, facing a journey from the Old World into a New World where through a series of challenges and lessons they undergo a significant metamorphosis. Sounds an awful lot like a conversion experience to me.

Thus, it is only natural there will be a lot of crossover of theological themes in movies. But while a theological theme in a movie may have a religious or spiritual connotation, I am more interested in exploring such themes metaphorically to find the widest value possible for screenwriters at large.

By working with this non-religious take on the concept, we can avail ourselves of numerous powerful theological themes in screenwriting regardless of whether our stories are secular or non-secular.

Today: Guilt.

Technically speaking from a theological perspective, guilt is being responsible for wrongdoing. It exists as a state, a consequence of having broken some sort of religious law. It is both a legal condition and an emotionally based one.

In his book “Wishful Thinking: A Theological ABC,” Frederick Buechner describes guilt this way:

The danger of our guilt, both personal and collective, is less that we won’t take it to heart than that we’ll take it to heart overmuch and let it fester there in ways that we ourselves often fail to recognize. We condemn in others the wrong we don’t want to face in ourselves. We grow vindictive against the right for showing up our wrong as wrong. The sense of our own inner brokenness estranges us from the very ones who could help patch us together again. We steer clear of setting things right with the people we have wronged since their mere presence is a thorn in our flesh. Our desire to be clobbered for our guilt and thus rid of it tempts us to do things we will be clobbered for. The dismal variations are endless. More often than not, guilt is not merely the consequence of wrongdoing but the extension of it.

We do not have to get too metaphorical with this concept to see its relevance in terms of movies. Characters screw up. Or they have screwed up, carrying the guilt forward as part of their backstory. That becomes a key to their state of Disunity, necessitating them to deal with the cause of their guilt. Movies like The Shawshank Redemption, The Verdict, and Inception to name a few traffic in this subject matter.

Pixar uses guilt as a dynamic in many of their movies:

• In Toy Story, Woody feels guilty about his part in Buzz being knocked out the window of Andy’s room, setting into motion the attempted rescue of his astro-rival.
• In Finding Nemo, Marlin feels guilty twice over: for the death of his wife and all of their eggs [save one — Nemo], and Nemo getting lost, creating the need for his hero’s journey.
• In Up, Carl feels guilty for having never fulfilled his promise to Ellie, instigating his airborne trip to Paradise Falls in South America.

One reason this is such a viable cinematic theme is how powerful guilt is. In The Silence of the Lambs, Clarice feels guilty for a heinous act — the murder of her father — an event with which she has zero culpability. That is logically. But in my view, Clarice assumes guilt over the incident because the other alternative — that the universe could be so random as to slaughter an innocent man who just happens upon a robbery in progress — is too frightening for a child to comprehend. That type of chaos, a child can not comprehend. Guilt is something they can own. Clarice does and projects the murderous fate of her father onto the slaughter of the lambs on her uncle’s Montana farm. Indeed, I think the primary unconscious reason she goes into law enforcement in the first place is to create circumstances in which she can do something to redeem herself of the guilt tied to her father’s death.

As Buechner points out, “More often than not, guilt is not merely the consequence of wrongdoing but the extension of it.” From a writing standpoint, this offers promising content to explore in our stories. Guilt is not merely a feeling, i.e., to feel guilty, rather it is a dynamic with the power to influence a character in myriad ways.

Takeaway: If you are writing a story in which a Protagonist has guilt at work in their psyche, look at the dynamic from all angles: What is the source? Has the character acknowledged or repressed their guilt? How has it affected their emotional state? What could the character possibly do to mitigate or even absolve them of their guilt? Indeed, the absolution of their guilt could very well lie at the core of their Need.

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