Podcast discussion covers writers’ inspiration from Swing dancing to Catholicism.
I recently sat down with my friend Michael McGruther for a wide-ranging discussion on his Sub Pop Cult podcast, to be released Friday December 10. This wasn’t just a courtesy visit to plug my new book, The Wedding Routine. We talked in-depth about the many challenges facing independent creators who’ve chosen to work outside the corrupting restraints of conventional Hollywood.
Sub Pop Cult is a weekly one-hour podcast that examines how pop culture storytelling and political narrative merge to produce the political results desired by those already in power. Featuring interviews with indie artists of all stripes, Sub Pop Cult leads the way in restoring culture from the bottom up by bringing attention to truly independent culture creators. The creator and host of Sub Pop Cult, Michael McGruther is best known as the screenwriter of Tigerland(2000) starring Colin Farrell, and the author of the science fiction thriller Crisis Moon. But he is passionate about supporting a grass roots movement of independent artists telling the stories that don’t fit the narrow rut of the Hollywood-Industrial complex.
Michael and I met in Los Angeles, roughly 15 years ago, as part of a nascent Conservative movement that unfortunately, never crawled out of its cradle. Back then I was trying to sell a screenplay, which I eventually turned into the novel, The Lance and the Veil, an adventure in the time of Christ. Naturally, since Mike is a fellow Catholic, we touched on that project and my first book, Earthquake Weather, a novel for Catholic teens, which grew out of my experiences as a parochial school teacher.
Mike and I draw heavily on our Catholic faith for inspiration and guidance, and we share a determination to carve out a niche where virtuous storytelling can thrive. If you’re interested in our talk, you can find the Sub Pop Cult podcast with Michael McGruther at the Apple Store.
Disclaimer: Links in this column may be affiliate links. When you click on an affiliate link and make a purchase, the website receives a small commission at no extra charge to you. These commissions help to support the website and my independent writing. Thank you.
There’s a scene in my romantic comedy novella, The Wedding Routine, where the good Fr. Burke tells his niece, Celia, “Your mother invited me for dinner and a Christmas movie. I lost the coin toss and had to watch Going My Way.”
“What did you want?” Celia asks.
“Die Hard,” the priest responds, tossing in a “Yippee-ki-yay!”
While the exchange might earn an “Amen, brother,” from a large swath of the male population, rebelling against their significant other’s binge of Hallmark pablum, it’s likely to scandalize holiday purists, who insist on gentler fare. The purists naturally expect any priest worth his collar to stand athwart the inclusion of a mayhem-rich shoot ‘em up in the Yuletide viewing canon. Of course, the question of whether Die Hard is a Christmas movie is not as cut and dried as the pine clippings its stalwart opponents weave into seasonal wreaths. The question has divided households across the country ever since Bruce Willis exploded on the scene as John McClane in July 1988.
“Well, see, there you have it,” the naysayers will neigh. “The producers didn’t even think it was a Christmas movie. They released it as a summer blockbuster.” Yet, a cursory look at film history reveals that Miracle on 34th Street was released on June 4, 1946, and It’s a Wonderful Life was released on January 7, 1947. So, release dates are far from definitive. Twentieth Century Fox released Hoffa on December 25, 1992. I doubt they meant it as a stocking stuffer.
“No,” the purists riposte, “what matters is the spirit of the film! Peace on Earth and good will towards men!” I couldn’t agree more, except that the scripture quoted can also be read “Peace on Earth to men of good will.” Men of bad will are asking for retributive justice, and this they shall receive, courtesy of John McClane. In spades. Moreover, peace, considered in isolation, is a bland concept; it only takes on meaning when contrasted with the cruel, violent and chaotic world that exists most of the time. The Christ Child entered a violent world. You’ll recall that one of the Wise Men brought myrrh to the cradle, which is the Biblical era equivalent of bringing embalming fluid to a baby shower. Herod quickly demonstrated this world was not safe for children, and if it had been, the nativity would have had little meaning. And it hasn’t proven ipso facto impossible to tell a Christmas tale with violent elements, as in Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, where beloved characters face the peril of being eaten alive, and Home Alone, where brutal violence is played for laughs. As an annual feast, Christmas often falls on violent settings, as the brilliant French film Joyeux Noelle demonstrates.
So, why do I think Die Hard might qualify as a Christmas movie? Not because it takes place on Christmas Eve, but because it delivers a Christmas message of reconciliation and restoration. In this film we see how, because of one’s man’s actions, evil is thwarted, lives are saved, and people are made whole again. True, John McClane’s actions are violent, but they are not unchristian. Taking up arms and suffering the rigors of battle in defense of innocent life is an act of Christian charity.
On Christmas Eve, New York City cop John McClane arrives in Los Angeles. He’s a tough-nosed detective who wouldn’t follow his wife out west because he had work to finish in his hometown. He is a public servant who bears the burden of others’ sins to protect his community. His dedication to his work has caused a rift between himself and his wife, Holly, who has chosen to climb the corporate ladder, depicted as a veritable tower of Babel at Nakatomi Plaza. As a reward for her worldly pursuits, she’s given a gold watch as a Christmas present. Yet, Holly’s heart is torn, because she desires a reconciliation with her stubborn husband.
Enter Hans Gruber with his crew of murderous thieves, who have taken the pursuit of worldly wealth to its mortal extreme. Gruber is truly “the prince of this world,” from whom John McClane, the suffering servant, must rescue it. In the Gospel of John, Jesus says, “A thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I have come that they may have life, and have it in abundance.” (Jn. 10:10) Such is the contrast in Die Hard between Hans Gruber, the thief, and John McClane, the cop.
Gruber is a proud and haughty evil doer who fittingly meets his end by being cast from his lofty height. Of course, before Hans makes his drop, he threatens to take Holly with him. He’s caught on her shiny, new wrist watch; only when John is able to unlatch the bracelet, breaking Holly’s attachment to worldly wealth, is she saved. Thus, we see play out before our eyes this passage of Mary’s Magnificat from Luke 1: 52: “He has brought down rulers from their thrones, but has lifted up the humble.” At the close of the crisis, John and Holly seem on their way to reconciliation, which is a very Christmassy theme.
We must also consider the plight of Sgt. Al Powell, who becomes John McClane’s partner on the outside. Having accidentally shot a child, Al cannot bring himself to draw his gun. Once a promising young cop, Al retreated behind a desk and now must answer to the ignorant and corrupt men who rose above him. Yet, through the experience he shares with McClane, Al finds the strength of spirit to draw his gun in a righteous moment and terminate a threat to innocent life. If the restoration of a generous and courageous spirit isn’t central to Christmas, what was Dickens thinking when he wrote A Christmas Carole?
Of course, on the other hand, action movies that dress up blood lust in vestments of virtue are doing a bait and switch. They draw the audience in by presenting a dire situation that demands manly valor, then continually up the stakes until you’re rooting for the hero to disembowel the villain and feast on his vital organs. When a film manipulates the audience into demanding a graphic cinematic execution as catharsis, we are now wallowing in that which our spirits had risen to oppose. The spectacle has dehumanized us in a way incongruous to the spirit of Christmas. Thus, after the last body drops, the seasonal music that’s suddenly piped in is not just ironic but jarring. Our nervous giggles, as the ultra-cool Dean Martin invites us to “Let it Snow,” underscore what we know in our hearts: these two hours were not exactly what Christmas is all about. We’ve been indulging a guilty pleasure that could land us on the Naughty List.
Ultimately, given the contrary, yet well-founded arguments, it’s safe to say the debate will rage on. So, if we really want to enjoy Peace on Earth this Christmas, we’ll have to learn to agree to disagree and limit our holiday conversations to safe topics like national politics.
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P.S. If you’re one of the way-too-many people who haven’t scene this Christmas gem, click now, and get it in time for Christmas. You’ll thank me.
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