Downfall at the Movies: Noah

Knife in hand, the grizzled patriarch advances upon a tearful young mother. She's his adoptive daughter, minutes from giving birth to twin girls of her own, but there's no time for maternal joy. Instead, she is left to plead with her father, first for the lives of her children, then, in a final act of desperation, to make their deaths as quick as possible.

Such is the tone of Noah, the harsh, bleak fantasy epic from director Darren Aronofsky. Calling this a 'fantasy' may give the wrong impression -- though set in a world with lumbering stone giants, multitudes of mythological creatures and many a clash of swords, this is no place for hobbits. Aronofsky's world is a blasted wasteland without rain, plants or, at a glance, much in the way of optimism.

Russel Crowe is the titular Noah, a stoic shaman by trade, warrior by necessity. He defends his wife and children from roving bands of marauders, who seem ravenously delighted to kill anything they stumble across. There's an implication of cannibalism occurring in the background, and though none of Noah's family is subjected to such a grisly fate, they ultimately fare little better. This is a universe set in motion by The Creator, an unseen force which communicates to Noah only through dreams. The single message is brief and grim: Humanity is out of time. The end is coming.

Assisted by a battalion of six-armed rock giants called Watchers, Noah proceeds to construct a massive ship which will -- thanks to internal architecture that changes as the film requires -- protect the 'innocent' animals against an impending global flood. Humans will be left to drown, presumably because Noah is the only man familiar with the concept of flotation devices.

Complications ensue. Tubal-Cain (Ray Winstone, swaggering through a variant of his turn in Beowulf) arrives to claim Noah's 'ark' for the sake of his own people. Noah's son, starved for affection, hopes to find a wife among them. Methuselah, played by Anthony Hopkins in the film's single point of good humor, searches relentlessly for the world's last crop of berries.

When the flood finally comes, it's a gloomy business. Noah and his family huddle in the ark, lashed by the desperate screams of those left to the storm. Convinced that The Creator intends humanity to perish completely, Noah refuses to rescue the survivors, instead outlining the burial procedure his family will follow as they die of old age. In a last-ditch attempt to lighten the mood, Noah relates The Creator's crafting of the universe, but no one seems especially uplifted.

Though directed with Aronofsky's signature visual magnificence, the story suffers for the inclusion of the horrifying Creator. This is a character apparently capable of constructing an entire universe, yet cannot find an alternative to  the wholesale slaughter of men, women and children. Noah begins as a loving father, but is ultimately forced to murder dozens of people, very nearly including his daughter's newborn infants. His motivation is murky; The Creator is implied to have begun as a benevolent overseer, but now seems to be looking at his villainous fantasy peers in the rearview mirror. Sure, Sauron and Voldemort wanted to rule the world, but The Creator is far happier destroying it.

Logistical issues abound. Why does The Creator refuse to help the beings he invented? Why does Noah continue to serve a master so eager to murder an entire population of sentient creatures? How can two of each animal (birds, insects, and elephants all fit into the ark without difficulty) repopulate their respective species? Noah faces the same issue when, after a change of heart, he decides his family should 'be fruitful and multiply'. This is a bit of a head-scratcher. Counting Naameh and Ila (Jennifer Connelly and Emma Watson), as well as Ila's daughters, humans are left with a grand total of four females. Noah has a few sons, but this doesn't solve the tiny, insignificant issue of catastrophic genetic overlap, and it's unlikely The Creator will be of much assistance.

Aronofsky has made an interesting and challenging film, but one so harsh and joyless that, regardless of an open ending, a franchise seems unlikely. Despite its PG-13 rating, this is a violent story that frequently plunges into scenes of nasty, gruesome violence. Even the dystopian world of The Hunger Games allowed some room for hope and laughter, but with The Creator still looming over the freshly-washed 'new world', the future looks dark for Noah's cross-eyed, inbred descendants.

A Skeptical God

There's a trend among the divine to avoid direct conversations. It's no secret that we've historically been a theatrical bunch, prone to convoluted schemes, esoteric reasoning and (admittedly) some pretty self-contradictory logic. That's why, when invited to speak with the Big G himself, I was already bracing myself for an excess of meaningless small talk. No matter how much I might pride myself on being a diligent fellow with an eye for the details, experience has taught me that it's unrealistic to expect straight answers from a top-tier deity.

Color me impressed. One doesn't expect God to be a plain-spoken fellow, somber and thoughtful in his reasoning, but that's exactly who I sat down to coffee with on a rainy Tuesday.

"Big fan," God tells me, shaking my hand in a firm, reassuring grip. "I've got some messengers of my own, but they don't have the swagger to pull off winged sandals."

"It's a classic look," I laugh, still a little taken aback. I've never met God in person. He usually hangs around the higher dimensions, inaccessible to a lower-level deity like me. I have, however, read His Bible, and it's grim stuff. I didn't expect the fellow who wrote abut drowning a planet full of sentient beings to be so…well, nice.

"How's Zeus these days?" God inquires. "We used to close down the bars, back in the non-material, pre-universal era. I knew his dad, of course, but obviously we don't talk about Cronus anymore."

"Same as always," I assure him. "If it's not rude of me, could we --"

"Start the interview," agrees God. "Best to get business out of the way, I completely agree. What would you like to know?"

I check my notes. "I was hoping you might clear up some ambiguity regarding the universe. A few of the other high-level gods claim they're responsible for existence, rather than you. Any comments?"

"I've answered this before," says God, but with a smile. "Any one deity claiming responsibility for reality is asking for trouble. You can't view existence in such black-and-white terms. Reality is a gradient, not a fact. Does that help?"

"Er," I say, checking my notes again. I had something for this, but God carries on without waiting for a reply.

"Let's get to the real issue," He says, folding His hands in His omnipresent lap. "We deities mustn't shoehorn ourselves into a single perception of reality, or a non-perception of sub-reality. Our perspectives have to be broader. Otherwise, we start running into the sorts of logical irregularities you were hoping to confront today. Oh yes, I'm well aware of it," He says, nodding. "This so called 'Problem of Humanity'."

I clear my throat. "Well, as long as we're on the subject, have you any thoughts on humanity?"

"Yes," says God. "I don't believe in them."

There's a little pause.

"Sorry?" I say, taken aback. "You don't believe in humanity?"

"Correct," says God. "I know you're not omniscient, Hermes, so take my word for it -- humanity doesn't exist. They're a myth. A fairy tale invented by deities so we won't have to feel so vast and limitless. If there really were some sort of mortal race with transcendent, eternal souls, don't you think I would have noticed?"

"I suppose," I admit. "But what about those gods who say that belief in humanity isn't an absolute? That it requires faith? Even some of the omniscient gods are willing to entertain the notion that humanity may exist in a reality outside our perception."

"Preposterous," scoffs God. "I am omniscient, and I don't believe tripe like that. Are you going to take Allah's word over mine?"

"Actually, some folks have been whispering that you and Allah are one and the same," I offer, trying not to sound meek. (I've heard through the theological grapevine that God isn't a fan of this conjecture.) "The same has been said for Vishnu. And for the record, Vishnu told me that nearly ninety percent of all deities believe in humanity."

"Vishnu." God rolls His eyes. "Blue-skinned boob. Never trust a guy with extra arms. In any case, no, I don't believe in humanity. And I don't care how many other gods believe in them -- everyone could be wrong, and it wouldn't change the facts. There's not a shred of logical, scientific evidence for the existence of humanity. I've done the research myself. Has Vishnu examined the laws of physics? I have. Every last atom in every conceivable universe. Don't you think, if humanity existed, I'd have found some evidence?"

"Most likely," I agree. "But -- sorry to circle back -- didn't you say that existence can't be viewed in black-and-white terms? That our perceptions have to be broad? Can't we apply those same requirements to a belief in humanity?"

"Don't be ridiculous. That doesn't even make sense."

"But you said --"

"Move along please, Hermes. No one likes a nag."

I clear my throat. "What about your Bible, then? You wrote that yourself, and it's full of facts about humanity."

"It's full of stories about humanity," God corrects me. "The Bible is a book. Is every book true?"

"Well…no, I suppose not."

"Precisely. The Bible is just a little thing I threw together a few billion years ago. I was bored, and Ganesh had been talking about this idea of mortal beings, so I thought I'd jot down a little story about them. It turned out longer than I planned, but it wasn't bad for a quick scribble. Although --" he leans forward with a secretive grin "-- I never did get around to writing that second draft."

"You were going to revise it?" This is a new one on me. "What would that have included?"

"Massive alterations. The first draft of my Bible is chock full of issues. To be honest, I didn't fully think through the 'Jesus' character, and he wound up a bit unbalanced. And that's not even getting into the way I wrote myself. Ever noticed what a prick I am in the Old Testament?"

"I had not noticed that," I say, keeping my tone neutral.

"Of course not," God chuckles. "Anyway, I'll get around to it one of these millennia. In the meantime, I'd suggest you keep after your interviews and just forget about humanity. We deities have enough to think about without wasting time on fairy tales."

"Fairy tales?" I say, surprised. "But in the book, humanity regards the Bible as the ultimate law. They use it to govern their lives, even to the point of killing each other. Isn't calling it a fairy tale a little…insulting?"

"Hermes, please," interrupts God. "I said I wrote the damned thing. I never said I did a good job."

Muslim Official Protests Altered Images

Members of the Muslim community spoke out today, offended by images they claim were, "Drastically altered."

"It's very upsetting," says Muslim Cleric Hudhafah Shamim. "The original images portray a peaceful rally held by a calm, rational gathering of Muslim citizens. This displays the true feelings of Muslims, while the altered versions paint a very different picture."

The altered photo:

And the original:

Such incidents have recently been on the rise. Asked who he believes might be behind this shameful slander, Shamim's response is immediate.

"The militant atheists are on the move," says the Cleric. "They'll stop at nothing to convince the world that Islam encourages violence and chaos. Frankly, I don't see how anyone could believe it."

Scientology Receives Coveted Award

The Academy of World Religions held its annual award ceremony Saturday evening, and as always, the star-studded spectacle was a treat to behold. Theological celebrities from around the world arrived in a whirl of splendor and -- owing to Pope's personal attendance -- no small amount of rhinestones.

"Nothing wrong with dressing for an occasion!" chuckled John Paul Benedict Cumberland XXVVII, the reflectivity of whose outfit (a collaboration between Armani, Gucci and the Liberace estate) is reported to have caused several minor traffic accidents. "If we can't let our hair down tonight -- purely in honor the Holy Father, of course -- when can we?"

Muslim Cleric Hudhafah Shamim was of a similar mindset. "This old thing?" he said, referring to the live peacock draped across his shoulders. "Oh, I just threw it on before leaving the hotel. Draws the eye though, wouldn't you agree?"

Members of various religions also entertained onlookers by attempting to convert one another to their opposing faiths. Accounts are still scattered, but Peter Stubsford, multi-trillionaire leader of the Mormon Financial Association, is reputed to have come dangerously close to a change of heart.

"There's just something about those Wiccans," he mused. "I can't put my finger on it, exactly. Must be the power of their rhetoric."

Stubsford's competitor in the debate, Genevieve Oakmoon, was extremely casual regarding her victory. "I've always been persuasive," she agreed. "And, with no offense meant to Stubsford, Wicca simply has…a lot more to offer than Mormonism. Would you excuse me? It's a bit chilly tonight." Oakmoon then excused herself and proceeded into the hall. In traditional custom for modern Wiccans, she and her company were entirely nude.

The highlight of the evening, as always, were the awards themselves. Christianity took home its usual 'Religion With Most Self-Contradictory Scripture', while Islam handily secured the award for 'Least Effective Way to Provide Guidance on Basically Any Subject'. In a surprise turn, Islam was also awarded 'Most Disappointing Afterlife', owing to the fact that -- as most men agreed in a recent Gallup poll -- being granted seventy-two virgins, "Just isn't that appealing, you know?"

The evening's runaway success, however, was Scientology. In addition to the expected awards ('Best New(ish) Religion', 'Religion Most Likely to Become a Major Motion Picture', and 'Best Way to Drive Desperate People into Crippling Debt'), Scientology also received the coveted 'Religion with the Most Batshit Insane Theology / Seriously, How Does Anybody Believe This Crap?'.

"Yeah, we're really proud," said Hollywood mega-star Doug Shooter, one of Scientology's most vocal advocates. "It's not easy to make people believe the kind of stuff we throw at 'em, but we've got the tax-exempt profits to prove it's possible. I can only speak for myself, but my past lives as a clam were pretty enlightening. Without Scientology's guidance, I never would have learned that we're the souls of dead aliens imprisoned on Earth by Darth Vader. Or…shit…fucking Voldemort, or whoever the fuck our allegory for Satan is supposed to be. Don't ask me, I can't understand this shit unless I'm stoned."

When asked to comment on Scientology's rise to stardom, Pope Cumberland and Cleric Hudhafah were noncommittal.

"It's nice that the kids are having fun," said Cumberland, "but Scientology needs a bit more oomph to become a major player in the religious arena. Don't get me wrong, fleecing suckers of their hard-earned money is a great start. I'm just a little skeptical about Scientology's staying power. How is a religion supposed to get any traction if it encourages people to seek enlightenment within themselves? A good religion tells people what's true, not how to find the path to truth."

"It's just a fad," said Hudhafah, adjusting his peacock. "No religion can survive if it isn't beheading, stoning or burning the unfaithful. At the very least, it should have some incredibly restrictive prohibitions about sex. Scientology doesn't cover any of those bases, and to top it off, they haven't got a single crusade or ethnic cleansing to their name. To me, those are the things that really make a religion. I mean, I'm no fan of Christianity, but Jehovah really fucked some people up in the Old Testament. Dude killed the entire world with that Noah's-Ark-Flood-Thing. That's a good day's work, amirite?"

Surprisingly present were a small contingent of atheists and secular humanists. When questioned about their unexpected attendance, the group freely admitted they were gate-crashing.

"We love sneaking into these things," said a cosmologist, who requested to remain nameless. "It's good entertainment value for the money, and those little Catholic wafers are great with salsa."

First Muslim Ever to be Annoyed

In a shocking turn of events, someone has upset a Muslim.

Though difficult to accept, the facts of the matter speak for themselves. On Monday, February 10th, Eric Bobberson of Seattle, Washington made a comment to his girlfriend regarding a coworker named 'Muhammad'. As Bobberson was experiencing difficulties with Muhammad (allegedly over a failure to replace an empty toner cartridge), he was overhead to mention, "Yeah, Muhammad can be a little annoying sometimes."

Unbeknownst to Bobberson, Aahil Ibinalhim, a practicing member of the Islamic faith, happened to overhear the comment. Rising calmly from his seat at a nearby Starbucks patio, Ibinalhim proceeded to politely interrupt the conversation and voice his concern over what he felt, "Could possibly have been an insult to the Prophet Muhammad (Peace Be Upon Him.)"

Surprised at this unusual display of emotion from a Muslim (traditionally known for their calm demeanor and preference for rational discourse), Bobberson hastened to clarify. With the misunderstanding resolved, Ibinalhim apologized for the intrusion, and invited Bobberson and his girlfriend for a Caramel Flan Latte. Reports indicate that the trio, along with Muhammad, are attending a Taylor Swift concert later this week.

Reaction to the incident has been widespread and, sadly, typical for such situations. While Muslim officials have responded with the patience and understanding characteristic of their community, radical non-religious sects were swift to attack several mosques and Starbucks locations. Police are still investigating a viral video in which a quartet of militant atheists appear to devour Bobberson's cat, Sniffles.

"We've come to expect this sort of behavior from secular humanists," said Police Chief Roger Huffbrook, at a press conference following the eruption of violence. "Studies have repeatedly shown that logical thought and a dedication to rationality can only lead to a life of brutal crime. This particular pack of savages was led by Kirk Cameron, known to have recently relapsed into the militant atheism that plagued his childhood."

Also weighing in on the matter was Pope John Paul Benedict Cumberland XXVVII. Pausing in his distribution of contraceptives and AIDS-awareness pamphlets in a small African village, the Pope mused that, "Humanists are only doing what their beliefs require. Unlike the sensible Christian and Muslim faiths, which demand nothing illogical of their followers, atheists have no choice but to commit these atrocities."

When asked whether he forgives the rationalist-led attacks, the Pope replied, "Well, we must hold them accountable for their actions, but I think it best to grant them a degree of latitude. Their lack of faith doesn't afford them the stability of a nice, reliable god. After all, can you imagine someone using religion to justify violence? The very idea is absurd!"