James S. Spiegel, Associate Professor of Philosophy
Taylor University, Upland, Indiana
Abstract
A central theme in the film American Beauty is the notion
that beauty is to be found literally everywhere, even amidst immorality
and deep suffering. The film is an artwork that invites the viewer
to see the whole world as art and grounds this aesthetic perspective
in a concerted theism. As such, American Beauty functions as
an apologetic for a high view of providence and dramatically illustrates
the "aesthetic-totality" theodicy as a theistic response to the problem
of evil.
Introduction
[1] Cinematic treatments of the problem of evil are not uncommon,
and many recent films have grappled with characters' struggles to
maintain their faith in the midst of pain and suffering, including
titles as wide ranging as Spitfire Grill, Ponette, Signs,
and Bruce Almighty. The standard approach, exemplified in these
films, is to offer, if only implicitly, a sort of theodicy, an account
as to why God would permit evil or at least why God would allow the
particular evils that vex our heroes and/or heroines. Typically, such
films conclude in favour of religious faith, in spite of the sometimes
severe trials encountered by the main characters.[1] God is to be trusted, we are essentially told,
appearances to the contrary notwithstanding. Evil is compatible
with religious faith, and the theist wisely maintains her trust in
God, however much pain she might encounter on her journey.
[2] American Beauty is another such film that addresses the
problem of evil from a theological perspective. But the doctrine of
providence it advocates is exceedingly uncommon, relative to both
the history of Hollywood film and the contemporary Western theological
climate. Rather than seeing evil as something that, all things considered,
the theist can accept as only consistent with (rather than, say, defeating
or conclusively undermining) religious belief, American Beauty
endorses the notion that evil somehow contributes to the overall aesthetic
value of the world and that, for this purpose anyway, is actually
intended by God. Thus, here we have a film that goes much farther
than the aforementioned films, as it offers a robust theological aesthetic
that not only accounts for the existence of evil but also explains
why God would want a world that contains evil. In what follows,
I will unpack this bold idea and note some of its philosophical ancestors.
Plot Summary and Critical Reception of the Central Theme
[3] The plot of American Beauty centers around one Lester
Burnham, a bored forty-something businessman whose archetypal mid-life
crisis is the catalyst for the film's central conflicts. Lester and
his workaholic wife, Carolyn, have drifted apart, and both are estranged
from their self-possessed teenage daughter, Jane. Things really begin
to unwind when Lester meets Jane's young friend Angela and falls headlong
into an adolescent-style crush, complete with daydream fantasies,
masturbation, and nervous stuttering. From here most of the main characters
plunge into various forms of vice and debauchery, and their relationships
with one another deteriorate accordingly. Lester quits his job but
maintains his salary through the use of blackmail. His wife has a
seamy affair with a business associate, and Jane indulges in an affair
of her own with a voyeuristic boyfriend, Ricky Fitts.
[4] Not the typical boy-next-door, Ricky has a fascination with homemade
films, which he finances by dealing drugs. Among his new customers
is Lester Burnham, whose rediscovered and mid-life-crisis-inspired
marijuana habit is happily fed by Ricky, even while he fornicates
with Lester's daughter. The whole sordid tale is tragically complicated
by Ricky's stern military father Frank, who suspects his son is having
a homosexual affair with Lester. It is with this apparent revelation
that the film crescendos. But if the viewer has not gotten the film's
point by this time, she will not get it at all. The theme of the film
is revealed mid-way through, and to miss it is necessarily to walk
away from the movie with the impression that one has witnessed two
hours of moral absurdity and meaningless tragedy. But to get the point
of the film is not only to see the movie itself from a proper perspective
but - and I don't think this is an overstatement - to see life itself
from an enhanced point of view. No wonder viewers were so sharply
divided on this film, for either it is absurd or ingenious, a waste
of time or utterly inspired, depending upon whether one gets
it.
[5] Most reviewers were enthusiastically positive, some even proclaiming
the movie a masterpiece. And judging by the Oscars garnered by American
Beauty, the motion picture Academy shared this positive assessment.
Yet the negative reviews tended to be particularly harsh. Here is
a representative sample:
American Beauty has been winning a lot of the critic's awards,
so there's very likely more to it than I got out of it. But it's
hard to see what that might be. Maybe there's some value to the
whole thing about unveiling the seedy side of suburbia, but, hey,
I could've told you that suburban life is depressing, and it wouldn't
have cost you $7, either . . . . If there's higher truth or higher
meaning in American Beauty, it's only skin-deep.[2]
Note the reviewer's willingness to admit "there is very likely more
to [American Beauty] than I got out of it." Still, he cannot
resist concluding, only a few sentences later, that there is no higher
truth or meaning in the film. What might this reviewer be missing
that others have seen in American Beauty?
[6] The theme of the film, and the interpretive linchpin for understanding
the reason for all of the plot's chaos, emerges in a pivotal scene
involving Jane and Ricky. While walking together they encounter a
funeral procession, at which point the conversation turns to the subject
of death. Ricky remarks that he once filmed a homeless woman who froze
to death. Here is the exchange that follows:
Jane: "Why would you film something like that?"
Ricky: "Because it's amazing. When you see something like that,
it's
like God is looking right at you, just for a second. And if
you're careful, you can look right back."
Jane: "And what do you see?"
Ricky: "Beauty."
[7] Next, Ricky invites Jane to view "the most beautiful thing I
ever filmed." He proceeds to show her a tape he made of a white plastic
bag blown about in an alley. Swirling up and down, to the right and
to the left, this bag, he notes,
was just dancing with me, like a little kid begging me to play
with it. That's the day I realized that there was this entire life
behind things and this incredibly benevolent force that wanted me
to know there is no reason to be afraid, ever. . . . Sometimes there
is so much beauty in the world I feel like I can't take it. And
my heart is going to cave in.
That this theme is expressed by Ricky is especially poignant, for
he is the most tortured of the characters, oppressed by a tyrannical
father, who regularly beats him. But at the film's conclusion we hear
a reiteration of the same point, this time from the film's central
character, Lester, who declares "it's hard to stay mad when there's
so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all
at once. And it's too much. My heart fills up like a balloon that's
about to burst. . . . and I can't feel anything but gratitude for
every single moment of my stupid little life."
[8] Film portrayals of human depravity are too numerous to count,
and the alleged attempt to faithfully "show" just how bestial we can
sometimes be has served as the rationale behind the most vile and
obscene scenes on celluloid. The reason most such attempts fail as
works of art is simple. The films themselves have nothing significant
to say about the immorality they depict. Nor do they transcend the
apparent absurdity of human life. American Beauty succeeds
because it does have something significant to say and it
does transcend the depravity depicted. But more than this, the
film's very thesis is about this transcendence. Superficially - or,
one might say, on a "skin deep" examination - it shows us several confused
people colliding in ridiculous and devastating ways. But the film's
real focus is the purpose behind the chaos, the meaning amidst apparent
meaninglessness. The bag metaphor is the film's central image, the
lens through which the audience must view the moral chaos of the lives
it visits. And to take this metaphor out of the theatre into real
life is to see the world in a whole new way (assuming one does not
already see things this way). The most tawdry and filthy details of
our lives, we are told, somehow contribute to an overarching beauty.
Because we are part of the mess, rather than standing above and beyond
it, we cannot expect to see how this is so. But it is true nonetheless,
and it is a truth that is worth our believing it even if we cannot
argue for it. There might be no other way to salvage ultimate meaning.
[9] American Beauty, like all great art, is a teacher. It
teaches that moral ugliness can be part of something that is beautiful
on the whole. More generally, but equally profound, is it's claim
that the world is an aesthetic phenomenon. And this is the theological
lesson. Since artistry demands an artist, the film beckons us to see
the entire cosmos as a work of art, continuously performed by God,
the "benevolent force" to which Ricky Fitts refers. Fittingly, this
insight comforted him and helped him to withstand the abuse he suffered
at the hands of a cruel father. The film reminds the theist that given
divine providence and special concern for those who trust God, there
really is nothing to fear long-term. There is, indeed, purpose in
every detail and beauty to be found everywhere.
[10] So here we have a simple explanation for the sharp divide among
critics of the film. Those who understood that the film's theme is
essentially aesthetic in nature grasped the profundity, if not the
ultimate truth, of its message, and were thereby able to assess the
various aspects of the film in this interpretive light. This interpretation
enabled those critics to see transcendent meaning and even hope in
the film. Those who did not grasp the comprehensive aesthetic theme,
on the other hand, necessarily missed these positive qualities and
were destined to dwell on all the ugly particulars. No wonder they
walked away confused and dissatisfied.
[11] But does this explanation account for all the negative
criticism of American Beauty? There are some who appear to
grasp its central aesthetic theme and yet still deny the film's overall
merit. For example, after acknowledging the film's aesthetic theme,
reviewer Steven D. Greydanus writes:
I'm very far from belittling the beauty of even a plastic bag swirling
in the breeze; beauty is holy, wherever it is found. But there is
beauty to which this movie is stone cold blind: beauty it tramples
on as ignorantly as Buddy Kane or Col. Fitts. Just as there is a
holiness to beauty, there is a beauty to holiness; holiness and
beauty are two sides of the same coin. The psalmist was onto something
when he sang, "O worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness!" (Ps
96[95]:5).[3]
The problem with the film, from Greydanus' point of view, is that
true beauty is incompatible with moral debauchery. Nothing can be
genuinely beautiful unless it is morally good - or holy, to use his
words. So the events depicted in American Beauty, and the film
itself, could never qualify as truly beautiful.
[12] While this perspective might seem plausible on a superficial
level, it breaks down immediately when we consider its implications.
If nothing that is beautiful can contain references to or depictions
of immorality, then most, if not all, of the great art works in history
must be rejected as aesthetically poor, from Homer's Odyssey
to Hugo's Les Miserables. Indeed, the view proves downright
silly, even self-refuting, when one considers that the Bible itself
contains numerous depictions of sin, running the gamut from venial
to morally grotesque. What Greydanus overlooks is the possibility
that the beauty of a work of art is not only compatible with depictions
of evil but that, when viewed in the right perspective, such depictions
may even enhance the artwork's overall aesthetic quality. Of course,
the makers of American Beauty are suggesting something even
stronger than this, namely that the world itself, as a divine artwork,
is beautiful not in spite of evil occurrences but in part because
of them.
The Aesthetic-Totality Theodicy
[13] The sad irony is that Greydanus, writing from a Christian perspective,
tacitly rejects - and perhaps is utterly ignorant of - a long Christian
theological tradition that American Beauty brilliantly illuminates.
The intuition that beauty somehow supervenes over even the most painful
and immoral situations has been advanced repeatedly Christian thinkers,
including St. Augustine, such as in the following passage from City
of God:
because there are, forsooth, many things, such as fire, frost,
wild beasts, and so forth, which do not suit but injure this thin-blooded
and frail mortality of our flesh . . . [some] do not consider how
admirable these things are in their own places, how excellent in
their own natures, how beautifully adjusted to the rest of creation
and how much grace they contribute to the universe by their own
contributions as to a commonwealth; and how serviceable they are
even to ourselves, if we use them with a knowledge of their fit
adaptations . . . . And thus divine providence admonishes us not
foolishly to vituperate things, but to investigate their utility
with care; and, where our mental capacity or infirmity is at fault,
to believe that there is a utility, though hidden, as we have experienced
that there were other things which we all but failed to discover.[4]
What we find in this passage is the "aesthetic-totality" theodicy,
which accounts for evil by appealing to the overarching positive qualities
that result from its presence in the world.[5]
Historically, philosophers as well as theologians have frequently
used this approach. For instance, Descartes counsels:
We should not consider a single creation separately when we investigate
whether the works of God are perfect, but generally all created
objects together. For the same thing which might perhaps, with some
sort of justification, appear to be very imperfect if it were alone
in the world is seen to be very perfect when considered as constituting
a part of this whole universe.[6]
[14] Among those who have used the aesthetic-totality theodicy, perhaps
the seventeenth century philosopher G.W. Leibniz is most famous. Leibniz
affirmed that ours is the best of all possible worlds. His reasoning
was that since God is a perfectly rational being and perfect rationality
always makes the best choices, then the world that God created had
to be the best one. Leibniz elaborates:
It follows from the supreme perfection of God that in producing
the universe He chose the best possible plan, containing the greatest
variety together with the greatest order; the best arranged situation,
place, and time; the greatest effect produced by the simplest means;
the most power, the most knowledge, the most happiness and goodness
in created things of which the universe admitted.[7]
The ultimate good to which Leibniz and Descartes appeal, though not
stated explicitly by them, is clearly aesthetic in nature. So many
positive qualities so elegantly arranged can only be summed up as
consummate beauty.
[15] Another early modern thinker, the Irish Anglican bishop and
philosopher, George Berkeley, similarly endorsed this aesthetic-totality
theodicy and did so with a vivid analogy. Berkeley compares the human
perspective on the world to that of a fly in St. Paul's Cathedral:
to the fly, whose prospect [is] so confined to a little part of
one of the stones of a single pillar, the joint beauty of the whole
or the distinct use of its parts were inconspicuous, and nothing
could appear but small inequalities in the surface of the hewn stone,
which in the view of that insect seemed so many deformed rocks and
precipices.[8]
When it comes to the problem of evil, according to Berkeley, we are
like the fly. How chaotic and ugly even St. Paul's Cathedral must
appear if examined from so minute a perspective without any understanding
of how the various details contribute to the splendor of the whole.
Like the fly, we need to adjust our view of things, and if we do so,
as Berkeley puts it, "we shall be forced to acknowledge that those
particular things which, considered in themselves, appear to be evil,
have the nature of good, when considered as linked with the whole
system of beings."[9]
[16] American Beauty might be the best statement of the aesthetic-totality
theodicy in the history of film.[10] There is an overarching beauty
to the world to which even particularly ugly events contribute. The
beauty of God's plan supervenes over the details of the world's drama,
however insignificant or absurd those details might appear. To put
it another way, beauty is an "emergent" property, a characteristic
that emerges at the macro-level of a thing, though it may not be present
in all (or any) of the component parts. A human life, or community
of human lives, may be appreciated for its aesthetic quality, if not
for its moral goodness. And the beauty of a particular life or community
may only be discernible when one steps back and adopts a "macro" perspective
that sees its narratives as a whole. The creators of American Beauty
not only understood this point but were able to communicate it compellingly
through film. For this reason it is a significant statement for the
Christian, who properly believes in the transcendent beauty of historical
narrative governed by God. For the theologian, it is a reminder that
the aesthetic is a potentially fruitful category in the development
of the doctrine of God, as well as other theological doctrines. And
for all of us it is a reminder that, as Ecclesiastes says, God "has
made everything beautiful in it's time."[11]
[17] The aesthetic-totality theodicy demands that we look more
carefully at what we call (and, of course, really is) evil, in
order to notice what the pain or immorality of it normally causes
us to overlook. The negative moral or psychological value of an experience
does not necessarily negate or diminish its aesthetic value. Beauty
may exist amidst evil. As I have shown, this idea, though currently
unpopular, has a long history in philosophical theology. But it has
an even longer history in the theatrical arts. The whole genre of
tragedy is premised upon the same intuition to which the aesthetic-totality
theodicy appeals. Even what is morally reprehensible or psychologically
unbearable may be beautiful, as the classic works of the Greek tragedians,
Shakespeare, Marlowe, and others so exquisitely demonstrate. Consider
Shakespeare's Macbeth, a story that features pathological evil
and highlights the dark side of human nature. It is a sad, even disgusting
tale. But it is beautiful nonetheless, due in large part to the insights
gained and emotions felt as the audience experiences the seamy narrative.
Might not something similar be said about American Beauty?
[18] It is in Macbeth that the famous line appears: "Life's
but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour
upon the stage and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by an
idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing."[12] While an earnest statement by Macbeth within the dramatic
world of the play, the irony of his declaration is plain to the audience.
They have seen the actors strut and fret upon the stage, full of sound
and fury. But it does not signify nothing. On the contrary, all the
moral chaos points somewhere, namely to transcendent truths about
human nature and divine justice. American Beauty similarly
transcends its moral chaos, though its ultimate point, being aesthetic
in nature, is different. Both show us how evil may serve and be transcended
by higher values than even the characters involved could comprehend.
And, in so doing, both works exalt our minds to the consideration
of providence.
[19] The doctrine of providence is a hot topic in contemporary philosophical
theology these days, as it has been since the early modern period.
The high view of providence endorsed by the likes of Leibniz and Berkeley
in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries aimed to repudiate the
deism of their "free thinking" contemporaries, including John Toland,[13] Anthony Collins,[14] and Matthew Tindal.[15]
Today a similar debate rages, though the names, not only of scholars
but also of the camps and concepts involved, have changed. Proponents
of the traditional high view of providence, from Paul Helm[16]
to D. A. Carson,[17] still maintain that God meticulously governs
the world, complete with all its vice and travail, but they seem outnumbered
by their scholarly opponents, ranging from liberation theologians[18]
to open theists,[19] who prefer to understand divine providence
in terms of containment and response to free human actions. Those
who take this "low" view of providence tend to see certain evils as
unredeemable, not the sorts of things that God would want or be able
to use for some ultimate good.
[20] So the basic issue has not changed in the last four centuries,
namely whether or how divine providence can be reconciled with evil.
Nor has the fact that philosophical and theological ideas invariably
find their way from the tomes of academics into influential artistic
expressions. Voltaire's Candide was the popular artwork in
his day that lampooned the prevailing doctrine of providence, featuring
the ridiculous Dr. Pangloss (representing Leibniz) who declared at
every nasty turn of fate that this is, nevertheless, the best of all
possible worlds.[20] American Beauty, on the
other hand, takes the opposite view, functioning as a contemporary
aesthetic apologetic for divine sovereignty. So in terms of perspective
on divine providence these two works of art are fundamentally at odds,
one opting for the high and the other for the low view. But relative
to the intellectual milieu in which each appears, they are functionally
equivalent. Both Candide and American Beauty champion
the minority opinions of their day when it comes to the theology of
providence. Each challenges the theological status quo as regards
God's purposes (if any) pertaining to evil in an aesthetically compelling
way. Each aims to persuade its audience, psychologically if not philosophically,
of the merits of the minority perspective.
[21] But here, again, Candide and American Beauty take
different approaches. Candide is primarily negative, attacking
the high view of providence as foolishly optimistic. It parodies the
Leibnizian perspective with scenes calculated to evoke a sense of
repugnance. For this reason, the work is merely a caricature of the
high view of providence rather than a serious critique. American
Beauty, on the other hand, favours its theology by inspiration,
accentuating the benefits of the high view by actually drawing the
viewer into the aesthetic perspective. The film's determination to
look evil in the eye, as it were, precludes any allegations of (Pan)glossing
over the more difficult, existential dimensions of the problem of
evil. Here we see real people in real pain and turmoil and an endorsement
of high providence made by one of the characters, specifically
the one who hurts most.
[22] Both Ricky Fitts' behavior and remarks endorse this perspective.
In one scene he films a dead bird. He studies it, admiring its beauty.
Similarly, in filming the dead homeless person, he finds beauty in
the corpse. And when he discovers dead Lester Burnham, he is absorbed
in the whole scene, presumably the brilliant colour of pooling blood,
the body's posture, and the look of contentedness on Lester's face.
These scenes are simply appreciated aesthetically by Ricky for what
they are - vivid, engrossing, and dramatically rich aspects of human
experience. To most of us, the apparent detachment and objectivity
displayed by Ricky is somewhat appalling. How could anyone maintain
such an attitude when staring at death? It certainly seems abnormal,
if not unhealthy. Yet, in Ricky's case, this very objectivity was
generated as a coping mechanism in the midst of his own suffering.
Like the tortured saint, whose sufferings trigger a beatific vision,
Ricky's exceptional aesthetic sensibility (and concomitant artistic
impulse manifested in his filmmaking) was forged through exceptional
suffering, his abuse at the hands of his father. American Beauty
seizes on this universal theme - the mysterious connection between suffering
and art. Most (all?) great artists have suffered severely. Why? What
is the mechanism involved? Perhaps, in some cases anyway, the phenomenon
is due to the fact that suffering sensitizes, makes one more psychologically
attuned to what goes on around her and to the human condition generally.
American Beauty offers another explanation. Those who suffer
greatly gain a certain objectivity as their emotions deaden or are
psychologically oppressed. This could be a natural distancing function
that extreme suffering may effect.
The Role of Psychical Distance
[23] The aesthetician Edward Bullough proposes that the achievement
of "psychical distance" is a prerequisite for the appreciation of
beauty. Psychical distance regards the separation of one's judgment
of an art work from one's self and affections. Bullough says this
attitude is a distinguishing feature of "aesthetic consciousness,"
obtained
by putting the phenomenon, so to speak, out of gear with our practical,
actual self; by allowing it to stand outside the context of our personal
needs and ends - in short, by looking at it ‘objectively,' as it has
often been called, by permitting only such reactions on our part as
emphasize the ‘objective' features of the experience, and by interpreting
even our ‘subjective' affections not as modes of our being
but rather as characteristics of the phenomenon.[21]
Bullough adds that psychical distance is not only required for art
appreciation but for artistic creativity as well. The artist must
detach herself from her experience qua persona if any
successful transmission of that experience is to be made.
[24] Bullough's concept of psychical distance is illustrated in American
Beauty both through Ricky's aesthetic appreciation of everything
around him and in his own artistic production. More than this, the
film accounts for the development of his aesthetic consciousness and
the essential psychical distance involved in it. The pain of dealing
with his own abuse as well as witnessing his mother's psychological
torture at the hands of his father prompted an emotional retreat in
Ricky's psyche. The result: the attainment of a particular objectivity
not only about his own tragic situation - Ricky demonstrates how fully
he comprehends his family dynamic by lucidly summarizing it and his
father's cruelty near the film's climax - but also about all painful,
tragic, or apparently meaningless life situations, whether concerning
a frozen homeless person, a decaying bird, or a plastic bag blowing
in the wind.
[25] The overarching point of American Beauty, however, is
not merely to illustrate the aesthetic-totality theodicy or Bullough's
thesis about psychical distance. Rather, the film's point is normative
in nature, serving more or less as an apologetic for the theological
aesthetic it presents. Lester Burnham's off-camera comments at the
end make this clear, as after declaring his gratitude for all the
beauty in the world he says to the viewer: "You have no idea what
I'm talking about, I'm sure. But don't worry, you will some day."
Given what we have seen and knowing Lester's present condition - a
disembodied soul reflecting on the meaning of his life, presumably
from a much enhanced and, one might say, objective perspective - the
impact of this remark could not be more forceful.
[26] Throughout the movie's narrative we witness the full range of
human desperation, stupidity, and depravity. And we descend with the
characters into more and more appalling modes of behavior: from strained
family relationships to adultery and ultimately to murder, while the
theme of "beauty in the midst of it all" unfolds alongside. The source
of authority from whom we gain an objective account of the film's
thesis is, of course, crucial. And that authority develops in three
tiers, each possessing it's own psychical distance and offering to
share this with the viewer. First, there is Lester's initial off-camera
perspective that commences the narrative, prior to our knowing the
details of his situation. His is the traditional third-person omniscience
and for this reason alone is regarded as authoritative by the audience.
Next there is Ricky's perspective, his objectivity achieved through
his suffering. His presentation of the theological aesthetic to Jane
is, of course, all the more compelling precisely because he has suffered
so severely. His perspective is far from omniscient, yet no less authoritative
because of this. Finally, there is Lester's concluding off-camera
perspective that epitomizes the authority of both the initial Lester
and Ricky, for we now recognize Lester as having both full comprehension
and the objectivity that is achieved through his own suffering. His
psychical distancing is complete, and we must trust his perspective
accordingly.
[27] American Beauty, then, works as an apologetic for a theological
aesthetic, beckoning us to see the world, ugly and random as it might
seem at times, as an altogether beautiful art object created and purposefully
guided by a divine being who is both good and creative, whose ends
are at least as artistic as moral. And the film makes an artistic
contribution to the tradition of the aesthetic-totality theodicy by
affirming the notion that it is only in recognizing God's ultimate
aesthetic purposes that we can cope with, and even affirm aesthetically,
the presence of that which is antithetical to happiness and goodness - evil.
This is a scandalous idea, of course. But the film challenges us to
consider the possibility that the scandal is a consequence of our
own localized view of the matter, as with the fly in St. Paul's Cathedral.
Perhaps, with a certain psychical distance, we might glimpse the truth
that "everything [is] beautiful in it's time."
Notes
[1] While this is the
standard approach, some films dare to proffer an atheistic response
to the problem of evil, e.g. Ingmar Bergman's Seventh Seal
and Woody Allen's Love and Death.
[2] Curtis Edmonds,
"American Beauty: Only Skin Deep," TX Reviews, http://www.txreviews.com/reviews/ambea.html
[3] Steven D.
Greydanus, "American Beauty," Decent Films, http://www.decentfilms.com/reviews/americanbeauty.html
[4] St. Augustine,
City of God, trans. M. Dods (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark,
1872), xi, 22.
[5] Augustine borrowed
this idea from Plotinus, who asserted that despite various local evils
in the world, "there is fitness and beauty in the whole" (Plotinus,
Enneads, III, 2, 17 in Plotinus, Vol. 3, trans. A.H.
Armstrong [London: William Heinemann, Ltd., 1967], 105).
[6] Ren ... Descartes,
Philosophical Essays, trans. Laurence J. Lafleur (New York:
Macmillan Publishing Co., 1964), 111.
[7] G.W. Leibniz, Principles
of Nature and Grace, Founded on Reason, sect. 10 in Philosophical
Writings, trans. Mary Morris and G. H. Parkinson (London: J. M.
Dent and Sons, 1973), 200.
[8] George Berkeley,
Complete Works, vol. 7, A. A. Luce and T. E. Jessop, eds. (London:
Thomas Nelson and Sons, 1955).
[9] George Berkeley,
A Treatise Concerning the Principles of Human Knowledge, Colin
Turbayne, ed. (Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill Co., 1957), 102.
[10] Some other recent
films, including Magnolia and Beautiful People, have
themes or sub-themes that hint in the direction of an aesthetic-totality
theodicy, but unlike American Beauty they are far from explicit
in endorsing this perspective.
[11] Ecclesiastes
3:11, NIV.
[12] William Shakespeare,
Macbeth, V:5, in Shakespeare: The Complete Works, G.
B. Harrison, ed. (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, Inc., 1948),
1216.
[13] In his Christianity
Not Mysterious, Toland boldly challenged the notion of biblical
authority and argued that all that is true and practical in the Christian
religion can be discovered by reason.
[14] In his Discourse
of Free-Thinking, Collins introduced the term "free-thinker" as
an appellation for critics of Christianity. Berkeley strongly challenged
this terminology in his Three Dialogues Between Hylas and Philonous
(1713) (Chicago: Open Court, 1969) and in the first dialogue of his
Alciphron, Or the Minute Philosopher (1732) in Complete
Works, Vol. 3.
[15] Tindal's Christianity
as Old as the Creation (1730), once commonly referred to as "The
Deist's Bible," aimed to show that all the attributes of God and moral
precepts necessary for responsible living can be strictly deduced
by reason alone, thus rendering Scripture superfluous.
[16] See Helm's The
Providence of God (Downer's Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 1993).
[17] See Carson's
Divine Sovereignty and Human Responsibility: Biblical Perspectives
in Tension (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1981).
[18] Recent notable
political liberationists include Jose Porfirio, Gustavo Guitierrez,
and Leonardo Boff. Leading feminist liberationists include Sallie
McFague and Anne Carr.
[19] David Basinger,
William Hasker, Clark Pinnock, and John Sanders are among the more
prominent voices in the open theist movement, which emphasizes divine
responsiveness to world events, the unknowability (even by God) of
future human choices, and a dynamic divine emotive life.
[20] Candide
(1759). See Candide and Other Stories, trans. Roger Pearson
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998).
[21] Edward Bullough,
"Psychical Distance," The Philosophy of Art: Readings Ancient and
Modern (Boston: McGraw Hill, 1995), 298-299.
Works Cited
Augustine. 1872. City of God. Translated by M. Dods. Edinburgh:
T. & T. Clark.
Berkeley, George. 1955. Complete Works. Edited by A. A. Luce
and T. E. Jessop. London: Thomas Nelson and Sons.
__________. 1957. A Treatise Concerning the Principles of Human
Knowledge. Ed. Colin Turbayne. Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill.
__________. 1969. Three Dialogues Between Hylas and Philonous.
Chicago: Open Court
Bullough, Edward. 1995. "Psychical Distance." The Philosophy of
Art: Readings Ancient and Modern. Boston: McGraw Hill.
Carson, D.A. 1981. Divine Sovereignty and Human Responsibility:
Biblical Perspectives in Tension. Atlanta: John Knox.
Collins, Anthony. 1978. Discourse of Free-Thinking. New York:
Garland. (Original work published in 1713.)
Descartes, Rene. 1964. Philosophical Essays. Translated by
Laurence J. Lafleur. New York: Macmillan.
Edmonds, Curtis. "American Beauty: Only Skin Deep." TX Reviews
<http://www.txreviews.com/reviews/ambea.html>.
Greydanus, Steven D. "American Beauty." Decent Films <http://www.decentfilms.com/reviews/americanbeauty.html>
Helm, Paul. 1993. The Providence of God. Downer's Grove, IL:
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Leibniz, G.W. 1973. Philosophical Writings. Translated by
Mary Morris and G.H. Parkinson. London: J. M. Dent and Sons.
Plotinus. 1967. Enneads. Trans. A. H. Armstrong. London: William
Heinemann.
Shakespeare, William. 1948. Shakespeare: The Complete Works.
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Tindal, Matthew. 1978. Christianity as Old as the Creation.
New York: Garland. (Original work published in 1730.)
Toland, John. 1978. Christianity Not Mysterious. New York:
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