- $ 8.00 Adults
- $ 7.00 Seniors
- $ 7.00 Students (High School and younger)
- $ 6.00 Matinees
- $ 5.50 Children 12 and under
- $ 65.00 10 Film Pass
Closing this week:
Blue is the Warmest Color
The Motel Life
Fri. - December 6 - 6:30 - 8:30 pm ASat. - December 7 - 4:15 - 9:00 pm ASun. - December 8 - 2:30 - 4:30 - 7:00 pm AMon. - December 9 - 7:15 pm ATues. - December 10 - 7:15 pm AWed. - December 11 - 7:15 pm AThurs. - December 12 - Not Showing
QUICK SYNOPSIS: Academy Award-nominated writer/director J.C. Chandor (Margin Call) takes the helm for this tense adventure drama about a man (Robert Redford) who must fight for survival after being lost at sea. rottentomatoes.com
SELECTED REVIEW: True solitude is a rarity at the movies, for those of us in the audience contending with yakkers and texters, and for the people on screen as well. The lonesome strangers of the old westerns almost always had a town to ride into or out of, a buzz of social life to contrast with their individualistic ways. Even movies that emphasize the isolation of their main characters tend to provide them with companions, human or otherwise. Piscine Patel in “Life of Pi” had his tiger, Richard Parker; Chuck Noland in “Cast Away” had Wilson the volleyball. Those guys did a lot of talking, even when nobody else was around. The stories Frank tells are escapist cliffhangers starring the two brothers battling pirates and Nazis and triumphing over unimaginable odds. When they were kids, their father abandoned them, their mother died (but not before exacting a promise that the brothers would stick together), and, after a freak accident with a moving train, Jerry Lee had to have a leg amputated. Life has been one long sorry stream of bad luck ever since. In the stories Frank tells, Jerry Lee has two legs, of course. In the stories Frank tells both brothers are tall and handsome and strong and capable. We see these stories unfold before us in crackling pencil animations woven throughout the film, witty and riveting, a representation of Jerry Lee's illustrations come to life. The guy in J. C. Chandor’s amazing “All Is Lost” — identified only as “Our Man” in the credits and instantly recognizable as Robert Redford, giving the performance of his life — says almost nothing at all. For the duration of the film, he is the only person in sight. In the opening scene, we hear his voice as he composes a letter of apology and farewell, presumably to unspecified loved ones back home. Later — or rather earlier, since most of the story flashes back from that moment of fatalism, eight days into his ordeal — he tries to send a distress call over the radio and tosses a few epithets at his fate. Otherwise, he is silent. And though this man’s radical aloneness is terrifying, to him and to us, it is also a condition he has chosen, one we might even envy, just as his taciturn competence is something we are inclined to admire.
He finds himself in the Indian Ocean, in the empty waters between Indonesia and Madagascar, on a solo sailing voyage. We infer that he is someone who can afford a comfortable, well-appointed yacht and the leisure to pilot it in exotic places, something he also clearly has the skill to do. He’s rich, American and handsome. (He’s Robert Redford.)
What else do we know about Our Man? He wears a wedding ring and an air of poised, understated confidence. In the midst of a desperate crisis, he takes the time to shave, and we might wonder whether this act of grooming under duress is evidence of self-discipline or vanity. Even when he is absorbed in practical matters that have life-or-death consequences, our ancient mariner maintains a sense of style; there is a subtle self-consciousness in his efforts to embody the old Hemingway-esque ideal of grace under pressure. He is a model of masculine virtue and he knows it. (He’s Robert Redford.) The ancient Greeks believed that character should be revealed through action. I can’t think of another film that has upheld this notion so thoroughly and thrillingly. There is certainly no other actor who can command our attention — our empathy, our loyalty, our love — with such efficiency. Mr. Redford has always been a magnificent underplayer, a master of small, clear gestures and soft-spoken intensity. This role brings him to the pinnacle of reticence but also allows him to open up in startling ways. Behind the leathery, pragmatic exterior is a reservoir of inexpressible emotion. An opera thunders in the silence.
“All Is Lost,” an action movie in the most profound and exalted sense of the term, has a simple plot that I hesitate to summarize, less for fear of spoiling anything than because a précis would either miss the point or recapitulate the whole film. A lot goes wrong. An errant shipping container punches a hole in the hull. The cabin floods, and the onboard electrical system is ruined. A ferocious storm spins, tosses and smashes the boat. Attempts to communicate are foiled by rotten luck and the metaphysical indifference of the universe.
Through it all, the man perseveres, in his patient, problem-solving way. He patches his beloved boat’s wound with epoxy and cloth, hauls out the storm jib, gathers provisions for the lifeboat and digs up a never-used, old-fashioned mariner’s sextant. Using this, a sheaf of maps and a copy of “Celestial Navigation for Yachtsmen,” he sets a course for commercial shipping lanes, hoping for rescue from the big boats that were, indirectly but with unmistakable metaphorical significance, the cause of his predicament.
Like other tales of survival at sea — a robust literary tradition that includes classic books by Ernest Hemingway, Jack London, Joseph Conrad and Herman Melville — “All Is Lost” manifests a strong allegorical undercurrent. Nothing registers the fragility and contingency of the human presence in the universe quite as starkly as the sight of a small vessel adrift on an endless ocean, and few representations of heroism are as vivid as the spectacle of an individual fighting to master the caprices of wind and water. But this is not — or not only — a parable of Man against Nature, ready-made for high school term paper analysis. The physical details that carry the story and make it suspenseful and absorbing are also vessels of specific meaning, and together they add up to a fable about the soul of man under global capitalism. Our man is a privileged consumer (just look at all the stuff he has on that boat) whose fate is set in motion by a box full of goods (children’s sneakers, as it happens) accidentally knocked out of circulation.
It is this catastrophe and the man’s desperate efforts to correct it that link “All Is Lost” with “Margin Call,” Mr. Chandor’s excellent first feature. That movie, about an office full of panicky investment bankers dealing with the unfolding financial crisis of 2008, is in many ways the opposite of “All Is Lost.” It takes place almost entirely indoors, and it’s pretty much all talk. But it is also very much concerned with how powerful men react when their sense of control is challenged, and with the vast, invisible system that sustains their illusions.
Our Man is a more complicated hero than he seems, and shades of ambiguity and implication filter in through the sharply defined, crisply composed images of his struggle. I’m reminded again of Conrad, and not only because “All Is Lost” is an appealing and exciting maritime adventure with one eye on the geopolitical state of the world. Conrad once famously identified his goal as a writer as “to make you hear, to make you feel — it is, before all, to make you see.”
A good filmmaker will not take that for granted, even with the advantage of a visual medium, and Mr. Chandor more than fulfills Conrad’s criterion of artistic achievement: “If I succeed, you shall find there according to your deserts: encouragement, consolation, fear, charm — all you demand — and, perhaps, also that glimpse of truth for which you have forgotten to ask.” Review by A.O. Scott, nytimes.com
Fri. - December 6 - 6:00 pm SSat. - December 7 - 7:30 - 9:15 pm SSun. - December 8 - 2:00 - 4:00 pm SMon. - December 9 - Not ShowingTues. - December 10 - 7:00 pm SWed. - December 11 - Not ShowingThurs. - December 12 - 7:00 pm S
SELECTED REVIEW: Joan Didion famously wrote, "We tell ourselves stories in order to live." And that's what brothers Frank (Emile Hirsch) and Jerry Lee (Stephen Dorff) Flannigan do for one another in "The Motel Life", directed by producers/directors/brothers, Gabe and Alan Polsky. Frank tells the stories, and Jerry Lee does accompanying drawings in a sketch book. They tape the drawings all over the cinder block walls of the various dingy motels they call home. Frank and Jerry Lee are grown men, but damaged and on the run, living in the permanent American underclass, and the stories are the lifeline they have created for one another, the context in which they operate as brothers. Jerry Lee pleads with Frank, "Tell me a story, Frank?" Based on the debut novel by musician Willy Vlautin, "The Motel Life" could have been a schmaltzy mess in less sensitive hands. It could have made kitschy and quirky that which is essentially poignant and heartfelt. But the directors and the cast, through a miracle of tone, mood, and emotion, have made a film that feels true, that is sweet and sharp and unbearable. Every frame feels right, every choice feels thought-out, considered. All adds up to a heartbreaking whole. The storm system we are tracking is named Adèle. Played with astonishing sensitivity by the 19-year-old Adèle Exarchopoulos, she gives every appearance, when we first encounter her, of being an ordinary French teenager: running to catch the morning bus to school, daydreaming in class, trading gossip with her friends in the cafeteria. Her transformation, before our eyes and in close-ups that register every stray tendril of hair and fluctuation of skin tone, is not necessarily into anything more extraordinary. The child of a lower-middle-class family in the northern industrial city of Lille, Adèle is pointedly and contentedly modest in her ambitions. She likes reading and eating (especially her father’s spaghetti) and aspires to a career as a schoolteacher.
The stories Frank tells are escapist cliffhangers starring the two brothers battling pirates and Nazis and triumphing over unimaginable odds. When they were kids, their father abandoned them, their mother died (but not before exacting a promise that the brothers would stick together), and, after a freak accident with a moving train, Jerry Lee had to have a leg amputated. Life has been one long sorry stream of bad luck ever since. In the stories Frank tells, Jerry Lee has two legs, of course. In the stories Frank tells both brothers are tall and handsome and strong and capable. We see these stories unfold before us in crackling pencil animations woven throughout the film, witty and riveting, a representation of Jerry Lee's illustrations come to life.
We meet the brothers in fragments and glimpses. We see them as kids, we see them as men. Their bond is unmistakable, and perhaps unhealthily so, but the film lives in the belljar of the brothers' reality, where they have no one else in the world but one another. Frank has friends (people he can hit up for cash, that is), but Jerry Lee's only contact with the outside world is through his brother. The motel rooms they live in are so unwelcoming you can feel how cold the tile is, how thin the stream of water in the shower, how dingy the blankets. Frank is the responsible one, and that's not saying much. He scrambles for every dollar in his pocket. He is haunted by Annie (Dakota Fanning), a girl he dumped. She was sweet and loyal, and had similar escapist tendencies (she also liked Frank's stories), but she was forced into prostitution by her horrible mother and Frank can't forgive it. He's obviously a one-woman kind of man. He cannot get over her. Jerry Lee seems challenged in a way that goes far beyond his physical handicap. Whatever might be wrong with him is not made explicit, and Stephen Dorff's performance is a damn near masterpiece of pathos, bringing "The Motel Life" into "Of Mice and Men" territory, clearly one of the story's original influences. When Frank steals a dog (it was going to freeze to death being tied up in that front yard anyway), and tells Jerry Lee about it, Dorff's face cracks in a childlike smile that is almost unbearable to witness in its uninhibited joy, saying, "We always wanted a dog!" The "We" is eloquent.
After a hit-and-run accident on an icy night when Jerry Lee accidentally kills a young man with their car, any small hand-hold the two may have had on stability is lost. Frank helps Jerry Lee bust out of the hospital (his prosthetic leg has been lost in their travels), and they hole up in a motel, hiding from the cops, trying to figure out their next move. Well, Frank does the figuring because Jerry Lee is in a panic and emotional tailspin. The intimacy between these two actors is a miracle to behold. There is one scene where Frank helps Jerry Lee into the shower to clean him off. Dorff is stark naked, and Hirsch is clothed, and at one point they start giggling about the nudity and the close quarters ("You got a big dick, Jerry Lee," Frank comments with a mix of embarrassment and admiration), and it was a beautiful moment of levity in a story of restless heartbreak, but also a perfect encapsulation of the weird intimacy between siblings. Films often get siblings wrong. Actors often are unable to convince us that they go way back to childhood together and have emerged from the same family. With Dorff and Hirsch, you never doubt it for one second.
Jerry Lee has an imaginary girlfriend named Marge, and he covers the walls of their motel with drawings of her, a buxom pinup with a 1940s hairstyle. Jerry Lee is in awe that his brother had actually been in love, and, more importantly, that a girl had loved him back. He, Jerry Lee, has never had that. His eyes fill with tears as he talks to Frank about it, the wreckage of his face displaying a whirlwind of loneliness. Dorff's performance is magnificent, and is entirely lacking in big histrionic gestures or cathartic breakdowns or temper tantrums. His eyes look pained and gentle as he tries to comprehend what the hell this life has handed him. And Hirsch, as Frank, is a beautiful listener, a resourceful support system, and also damaged beyond repair himself.
The supporting cast is all great, especially Kris Kristofferson as a used-car salesman and stand-in father figure for Frank. He gives advice that is actually sound (unlike most of the other folks in the film), telling Frank, "Don't make decisions thinking you're a low-life. Make decisions thinking you're a great man. Or at least a good man." The fact that Frank does not realize he is already a good man is one of the tragedies in the film.
Motels are up there with the Automat, the drive-in, jukeboxes, and cars with tailfins, as emblematic of certain aspects of American culture. These things are familiar even if their heyday predates us. "The Motel Life" does not shy away from the seedy aspects of its world, but it also understands the dark glamor there (especially in a show-stopper of a scene through a casino). We have all been in such places, even if it is only through the movies, or through our books. We know those red leather booths, those cigarette machines, the neon, the geometric tile floors, the crappy art on the walls. It's already in us, it's a part of us.
With super strong performances and a mood so melancholy-thick that you ache to comfort these men, "The Motel Life" is still a beautifully warm film with a very kind heart. It does not push the characters or manipulate them. It does not worry too much about its plot. The film is wise enough to just stand back and let its characters be. What a refreshing change. What a beautiful and sad film. Review by Sheila O'Malley, rogerebert.com
Fri. - December 6 - 8:00 pm SSat. - December 7 - 4:00 pm SSun. - December 8 - 6:00 pm SMon. - December 9 - 7:00 pm STues. - December 10 - Not ShowingWed. - December 11 - 7:00 pm SThurs. - December 12 - Not Showing
QUICK SYNOPSIS: BLUE IS THE WARMEST COLOR centers on a 15-year-old girl named Adèle (Exarchopoulos) who is climbing to adulthood and dreams of experiencing her first love. A handsome male classmate falls for her hard, but an unsettling erotic reverie upsets the romance before it begins. Adèle imagines that the mysterious, blue-haired girl she encountered in the street slips into her bed and possesses her with an overwhelming pleasure. That blue-haired girl is a confident older art student named Emma (Seydoux), who will soon enter Adèle's life for real, making way for an intense and complicated love story that spans a decade and is touchingly universal in its depiction.
SELECTED REVIEW: “Blue Is the Warmest Color” is a feverish, generous, exhausting love story, the chronicle of a young woman’s passage from curiosity to heartbreak by way of a wrenching and blissful attachment to another, slightly older woman. Although there is plenty of weeping and sighing, the methods of the director, Abdellatif Kechiche, are less melodramatic than meteorological. He studies the radar and scans the horizon in search of emotional weather patterns and then rushes out into the gale, dragging the audience through fierce winds and soul-battering squalls.
The storm system we are tracking is named Adèle. Played with astonishing sensitivity by the 19-year-old Adèle Exarchopoulos, she gives every appearance, when we first encounter her, of being an ordinary French teenager: running to catch the morning bus to school, daydreaming in class, trading gossip with her friends in the cafeteria. Her transformation, before our eyes and in close-ups that register every stray tendril of hair and fluctuation of skin tone, is not necessarily into anything more extraordinary. The child of a lower-middle-class family in the northern industrial city of Lille, Adèle is pointedly and contentedly modest in her ambitions. She likes reading and eating (especially her father’s spaghetti) and aspires to a career as a schoolteacher. And yet, over the course of nearly three hours and what seems like about a half-dozen years (Mr. Kechiche is not fussy about marking the passage of time), Adèle acquires a depth and grandeur that make her equal to some of the great heroines of literature. For a while, as with Anna Karenina or Elizabeth Bennet or Clarissa Dalloway, her life is also yours, and afterward you may discover that yours has altered as a result of the encounter.
“Blue Is the Warmest Color” is the loose amalgam of two literary sources: Julie Maroh’s compact graphic novel of the same title (published in 2010) and “La Vie de Marianne,” a sprawling, unfinished doorstop of a book by the 18th-century author Pierre de Marivaux. (In the movie, Adèle calls it her favorite novel.) The film’s focus is nonetheless resolutely contemporary and its achievement decidedly cinematic. Immersing us in the everyday facts of 21st-century French life — including school, politics, food, wine and sex — Mr. Kechiche illuminates the suffering and ecstasy of an awakening consciousness.
Ms. Exarchopoulos almost never departs from the camera’s scrutiny, and her reality, her ways of seeing and feeling, define the many shades of “Blue.” Mr. Kechiche’s earlier films include “The Secret of the Grain,” a similarly messy and capacious consideration of the life of a North African immigrant in France and his extended family, and “Games of Love and Chance” (“L’Esquive”), which sets a Marivaux comedy in a rough housing project in the Paris suburbs. He rarely allows the machinery of plot to distract him from the tangents of talk, and the first part of “Blue” is preoccupied with what seem to be extraneous, trivial arguments and conversations. Adèle chats about boys with the girls at school, and about music and books with a boy named Thomas (Jérémie Laheurte), who briefly becomes her boyfriend. She naps, snacks, studies and pushes her unruly hair into a ragged ponytail atop her head.
Then one day, she crosses paths with Emma (Léa Seydoux), and everything changes. Emma, blue-haired and fox-eyed, walks past Adèle in the street, shows up in her dreams and flirts with her in a lesbian bar. “I came here by chance,” Adèle says, which is only half-true. She was not exactly looking for Emma, or for anyone in particular, but rather for confirmation of a hunch about her own desires, something Emma is happy to provide.
Emma, an art student and an aspiring painter, relishes the role of mentor. A bit pompously, she lectures Adèle on the ideas of Jean-Paul Sartre — she sees him, not altogether implausibly, as a forerunner of gay liberation — and offers to tutor her in philosophy. Later, when they are more or less securely established as a couple, Emma prods Adèle toward loftier ambitions, almost as if she is embarrassed to be with someone so down to earth.
There is a subtle but unmistakable class difference between them. When Adèle has dinner with Emma’s mother and stepfather, she is served oysters and high-flown conversation about the value of culture. At Adèle’s house, Emma eats pasta and gets a paternal talking-to about the frivolity of art and the importance of making a living. Emma is proudly out. Adèle is, somewhat defiantly, closeted. There are unspoken tensions and imbalances between them that eventually erupt with shattering force.
When “Blue Is the Warmest Color” was shown at Cannes in May — where the jury, headed by Steven Spielberg, took the unusual step of awarding the festival’s highest prize jointly to Mr. Kechiche, Ms. Exarchopoulos and Ms. Seydoux — much attention was paid to its explicit sex scenes. Not without reason. One sequence in particular is longer and more literal than anything you are likely to encounter outside of pornography. Ms. Maroh (among others) objected that Mr. Kechiche’s rendering of her work was indeed pornographic, reflecting a prurient male fantasy rather than the truth of lesbian sex. A conversation late in the movie (after most of the on-screen sex has taken place) seems to anticipate this criticism, as does an earlier scene in which Adèle and Emma visit a museum and gaze at paintings and sculptures of naked women, almost all of them produced by men. The conversation features a male gallery owner who rambles on breathlessly about the power and mystery of female sexuality, which has fascinated male artists for centuries.
A parallel argument between Emma and another woman about the relative merits of Egon Schiele and Gustav Klimt — tireless painters of the female form, as is Emma herself — underlines the theme. All this talk may be an attempt by Mr. Kechiche to cover his own backside while Ms. Exarchopoulos’s and Ms. Seydoux’s are on full, undraped display. Like Titian or Degas or Flaubert, he just can’t help it.
But “Blue Is the Warmest Color” is ardently and sincerely committed to capturing the fullness of Adèle’s experience — sensory, cerebral and emotional. The sex is essential to that intention, even though Mr. Kechiche’s way of filming does not quite succeed in fulfilling it. Trying to push the boundaries of empathy, to communicate physical rapture by visual means, he bumps into the limits of the medium and lapses into voyeurism, turning erotic sensation into a spectacle of flesh.
That is a small failure, given the scale of this movie’s achievement, which belongs equally (as the Cannes jury recognized) to the director and the actresses. The film is at times as sloppy as its heroine, with her runny nose and unruly hair, but it is never dull, lazy or predictable. Mr. Kechiche’s style is dizzy, obsessive, inspired and relentless, words that also describe Adèle and Emma and the fearless women who embody them. Many more words can — and will — be spent on “Blue Is the Warmest Color,” but for now I’ll settle for just one: glorious. Review by A.O. Scott, nytimes.com
Sat. - December 7 - 7:00 pm A
QUICK SYNOPSIS: An eccentric stranger wants to hire Edward Fudge for a bizarre project: He wants Fudge to investigate Hell.
Edward Fudge is a small-town Bible-belt preacher. Son of a respected church leader known for his conservative religious views, Edward is confident that whatever the Bible really teaches is right. Trained in biblical languages and theology, he finds the project intriguing. He agrees to take it on, not knowing where it will lead. He dedicates a year of his life to a systematic study of Hell – and his life will never be the same again.
As Fudge immerses himself in research, other aspects of his life begin to crumble. Leaders of his own denomination attack him for suggesting that members of other churches can be saved.
His own congregation – people he loves and serves – fires him after he invites a black man to pray from the podium. The publishing company he has worked for since childhood terminates his employment because he refuses to recant his liberal positions.
He becomes so committed to his research that his relationship with his wife and children begins to suffer. And, most importantly, in the course of his investigation some of his core beliefs about God and judgment and eternity are shaken from their foundations. Ultimately, Fudge emerges as a defender of faith and Scripture, and a champion for God's love.
Today Edward Fudge is a well-respected author, lecturer, and theologian. The book that resulted from his research, The Fire That Consumes, is a compelling study on the subject of Hell and eternal torment. It stands as a testimony to a man who had the courage to search for truth and to pay the price for what he found. *hellandmrfudge.org
SELECTED REVIEW: Black and white. Heaven and hell. Right and wrong. Blur or question those lines, and, well, all hell can break out. At least it did for Edward Fudge in the early 1980s in in this small northern Alabama hamlet.
Fudge was a young preacher who also worked in his father's publishing company. When he began to teach a doctrine of hell that contradicted the traditional view of a place of eternal fiery torment for the damned, a quick succession of events cost him his job and his pulpit.
A new film, "Hell and Mr. Fudge," compresses the events of the years when Fudge, now a Houston-based lawyer and internationally known Bible teacher and author, began an intensive study of the Bible and the doctrine of hell. What he found made him question one of the bedrock doctrines of Christianity.
The feature movie, which was filmed in Athens last year by the nonprofit religious education organization LLT Productions, won a Platinum Award during its premiere at Worldfest, the Houston Film Festival. Producers are shopping the film to find national distribution.
Fudge's conclusion that hell is a place of destruction, not torture, got him fired from his pulpit. The fact that he asked a black preacher to pray at a revival didn't help.
"My life went in a direction I didn't anticipate -- or particularly want," Fudge said in an interview. "But at every step, God's been there to make happen what he wants to happen. I've just kind of been along for the ride." To outsiders and even some Christians, the debate over the nature of hell may seem like splitting theological hairs. But for Christians who orient their lives around a literal understanding of biblical teaching, the belief in eternal hell is seen as an essential truth.
Hell can be the third rail of Christian teaching -- step on it and you're bound to get jolted. Last year, Michigan evangelical megachurch pastor Rob Bell found himself on the cover of Time magazine when his book, "Love Wins," questioned traditional notions of hell. Many conservative leaders swiftly denounced him. Fudge's independence of mind and determination to dig deep into the Bible -- and then to stand for what he believes despite vehement opposition -- is what makes the film transcend narrow questions of theology, said Pat Arrabito, director of the Angwin, Calif.-based LLT Productions, which made the movie. "Even though this is a specific story about a specific train of events, this has wide appeal," Arrabito said. "This is the story of someone who had to change their mind -- and it wasn't easy. And then he had to stand up for what he believes."
"Those kind of themes echo in a lot of hearts," Arrabito said. Fudge never expected to change his mind on the topic of hell, he said. But then the renegade former Seventh-day Adventist minister Robert Brinsmead saw some of Fudge's articles and paid Fudge to research the topic of hell in the Bible and historic Christian writings.
For dramatic effect, the movie has Fudge's character (played by Mackenzie Astin) already agonizing over the doctrine after a young friend dies in an accident. In reality, Fudge said, he may have wondered about it, but he hadn't given it much study or much anguish.
An eternally burning hell for the "lost" was one of the accepted assumptions of everyone he knew. In his research, Fudge expected to merely assemble information that would verify what he had always taught and been taught on the topic. "I thought I knew what was in the Bible," said Fudge, who already had a master's degree in biblical studies when he started his research. But, he found out, he didn't know what was in the Bible, not when he took passages on the topic of the fate of the wicked at face value, in their own linguistic and historic contexts.
Fudge's research became the basis for his 500-page text on the topic, "The Fire that Consumes: A Biblical and Historical Study of the Doctrine of Final Punishment," which was released in 1982 and is now in its third edition. In it, he argues that hell is a place of annihilation, not endless torment, while heaven is a place where God grants the gift of immortality for those who are saved. The doctrine outlined in the book is now fairly widely accepted by leading evangelical preachers and Christian scholars. But historical ways of reading selected Bible texts to come to the conclusion of hell as a place of eternal torment also still flourish.
"I remember this (Fudge's heretical teachings) being talked about when I was in junior high and high school," said David Cox, who is pulpit preacher at Market Street Church of Christ in Athens, and who grew up the son of another preacher. "And I guarantee, if I got up Sunday and preached what Ed teaches, I would be asked to leave."
And for good reason, Cox said. "Truth is not what people want it to be; it's what God says it is," Cox said. "God is not going to say, as he does in Matthew 25, that there is going to be everlasting punishment and there not be everlasting punishment." And the most grave sin a Bible teacher can commit is teaching falsehoods or a way of applying the Bible that causes another person to miss salvation, he said. Getting truth right according to the Bible is something Fudge agrees with, too, he said.
"When you say you're speaking for God, you had better be sure you're saying what God wants said," Fudge said. "To me, the traditional teaching of eternal torment is slander against God and against his character." Review by Kay Campbell, huffingtonpost.com
Click here for a printable movie schedule.
Click here for past films.
The Golden Globes The Internet Movie Database Internet Archive: Movie Collection
(Fast Connection Required)
Turner Classic Movies
If you have a favorite Movie Resource, please send us an email and let us know. If our distinguished review panel agrees, the link to the resource will be added to our list.
Myrna Loy Center
15 North Ewing
Helena, Montana 59601
Office: (406) 443-0287 Fax: (406) 443-6620
Copyright © 2000-2007, Myrna Loy Center. All rights reserved.