50/50, a Movie About Terminal Illness, Sidesteps a Big Question

In the recent film 50/50, Joseph Gordon-Levitt plays a young professional with his life seemingly worked out: a rewarding career, a charming girlfriend, and a nice house. But then he hears the worst news he could expect: those pains he’s been having in his back are due to a rare form of spinal cancer.

It’s an R-rated comedy, and the idea was to portray illness in an irreverent and unsentimental way. Seth Rogen is on hand as the best bro, who optimistically sees Levitt’s situation as a hook for meeting women: when they go book shopping, he makes a point of showing a list of books about cancer to one of the store’s clerks, and opening up how strong he’s trying to be for his friend. Anjelica Huston plays the overbearing mother, but she is unceremoniously pushed to the margins for much the story, lest she drag things down with melodrama. And while it does succeed in avoiding a maudlin or melodramatic tone, something glaring is missing from it: the question of an afterlife. No one brings it up.

According to a survey by the Pew Forum on on Religion and Public Life, 74% of Americans profess a belief in life after death. If Levitt’s character is one of the minority, and really goes through cancer treatment without the alleged comfort provided by faith in his continued existence, than this is a distinguishing character trait well worth acknowledging. If he believed, however vaguely, in an afterlife before, I want to know how his confrontation with mortality affects his views. If he did not think about it beforehand, than I want to know what he thinks now.

There are numerous opportunities for brining up the topic, all wasted. He attends therapy sessions with an inexperienced counselor played by Anna Kendrick; he gets high on medicinal marijuana with Rogen, with fellow chemo patients, with women he and his friend pick up from a bar; his girlfriend in the earlier scenes (Bryce Dallas Howard) speaks vaguely of “energy” and “vibes.” But all of these interactions fall flat, and all of the characters remain two-dimensional, despite the best efforts of the capable cast.

 

 

I’m pretty sure I know why the filmmakers chose to avoid the question of whether or not death is truly the end ofus: because they didn’t want to alienate anyone. If it turns out that Levitt was an ardent atheist all along, religious moviegoers might recoil. If he turn to Jesus, we rationalists and skeptics might roll our eyes, while the devotees of other religions may feel excluded.

 

But if you try too hard not to alienate anyone, you fail to excite anyone either. 50/50 opened as the #5  film in the country in September, and has grossed a mediocre $35 million domestically. I don’t think the afterlife issue was solely to blame, but the overall avoidance of substance certainly didn’t help. When it comes to messy and controversial issues, Hollywood needs to start treating us like grown-ups.

 

Chuck Klosterman Says Tim Tebow Makes Blind Faith a ‘Viable Option’

I’m a big fan of Chuck Klosterman. He writes about pop culture and sports from a personal perspective, documenting what it truly feels like to participate in a media-saturated culture. But a recent column he wrote for Grantland about Tim Tebow didn’t impress me.

It starts with a promising thought experiment:

Imagine that you’re a detective, assigned to investigate a murder in a community of 1,000 people. There’s no established motive for this crime, and no one saw it happen. By the time you arrive, the body has already been cremated. There are no clues. There is no forensic evidence. You can’t find anything that sheds any light whatsoever on who committed this murder. But because there are only 1,000 people in town, you have the opportunity to interview everyone who lives there. And that process generates a bizarre consensus: Almost 800 of the 1,000 citizens believe the murderer is a local man named Timothy.

After six months of investigating, you return to your home office. Your supervisor asks what you unearthed. “Nothing,” you say. “I have no evidence of anything. I did not find a single clue.” The supervisor is flummoxed. He asks, “Well, do you have any leads?” You say, “Sort of. For reasons I cannot comprehend, 784 of the citizens believe the killer is a man named Timothy. But that’s all they have — their belief that Timothy is guilty.”

“That seems meaningful,” says your supervisor. “In the face of no evidence, the fact that 78.4 percent of the town strongly believes something seems like our best case. We can’t arrest him, but we can’t ignore that level of accord. It’s beyond a coincidence. Let’s keep the case open. I feel like we should continue investigating this Timothy fellow, even if our only reason for suspicion is the suspicion of other people.”

Do you agree with your supervisor’s argument?

78.4% is a significant figure — that’s how many Americans identify as Christian according to a survey by the Pew Forum. This problem that the detective faces — being failed by evidence and contending with massive assurance by those who claim none — is emblematic of large-scale societal conflict, and sheds light on what he deems “this Tebow Thing”

On one hand, he sees a group “who hate[s] him because he’s too much of an in-your-face good person” arguing with a group “who love[s] him because he succeeds at his job while being uniquely unskilled at its traditional requirements.” Both groups “see themselves as the oppressed minority who are fighting against dominant public opinion.”

Klosterman points out that it is very hard to argue against faith. In addition to the fact that it involves debating by different rules, he says there is no pejorative word for “faithful” — the closest phrase we have is “blind faith.” And the faith of Tebow fans seems to be paying off, because his recent success at winning games defies logic.

One of the things that makes Tebow a hard player to understand is that his personality (or at least his public persona) is inconsistent with his playing style. He is generally thought of as a good and decent person, but he is a tough player, whose wins are ugly. On the other hand, Ben Roethlisberger, who Klosterman calls “toughest quarterback in the NFL,“ is widely regarded as an awful person and is personally unpopular. But fans seem to be able to accept that his playing style matches his personality.

It is also difficult to make sense of Tebow’s current winning streak with statistics: he has only completed 47.5% of his passes this season.  But the Broncos have gone 6-1 with him as a starter, and were 1-4 at the beginning of the season when he was not starting.  Klosterman argues that, because of all this, Tebow “makes blind faith a viable option,” and that “he is making people wonder if they should try to believe things they don’t actually believe.”

I think the problem with Klosterman’s argument begins with his interpretation of what Tebow’s critics are actually annoyed about. I, for one, don’t care whether or not he wins games. I’ve never pored over his passing stats to determine whether or not he was overrated. I just object to his behavior and public statements.

I think the habit of kneeling in prayer after successful plays (leading to the “Tebowing” meme) is distasteful and irrational. It’s a very public statement, and it makes sense for me to express my disagreement. I disagree with his stance on abortion, too, but that’s not what makes me angry. What makes me angry is the Super Bowl ad he appeared in, which directed people the website of Focus on the Family, an organization with a vile and hateful agenda.

But maybe that’s just me. Are any of you Friendly Atheist readers also serious NFL fans having crises of skepticism as a result of the Broncos recent winning streak?

Lowe’s Pulls Ad From TLC’s ‘All-American Muslim’

TLC’s All-American Muslim is a reality show depicting five Lebanese-American families in Dearborn, MI. I haven’t seen it, but this review from Entertainment Weekly‘s Ken Tucker sure makes it sound harmless:

These “characters” are all reasonably appealing, either charming or entertainingly irritating in the tradition of reality TV, though the show is edited at a snail’s pace. All-American Muslim centers on explaining customs and beliefs, and how the people the producers have selected either follow or ignore their religion’s dictums.

Despite that, The Florida Family Association — a group promoting “traditional, biblical values” — sees a darker purpose behind the series:

All-American Muslim is propaganda clearly designed to counter legitimate and present-day concerns about many Muslims who are advancing Islamic fundamentalism and Sharia law.  The show profiles only Muslims that appear to be ordinary folks while excluding many Islamic believers whose agenda poses a clear and present danger to liberties and traditional values that the majority of Americans cherish.

The group called for an e-mail campaign pressuring the show’s advertisers pull their spots. At least one company caved under the pressure.

Lowe’s acknowledged pulling commercials from “All-American Muslim” following consumer complaints, but denied they came from one group.

“We understand the program raised concerns, complaints, or issues from multiple sides of the viewer spectrum, which we found after doing research of news articles and blogs covering the show,” said Katie Cody, a Lowe’s spokeswoman.

The denial that Florida Family Association was the primary influence behind the decision seems dishonest, considering that Lowes sent an e-mail to the group’s Executive Director informing him of the decision.

But I can understand why Lowe’s wants to avoid the taint that any association with FFA would produce. In addition to their annoyance at any show of tolerance towards Muslims, they also freak out about the growing acceptance of homosexuality. Right now, they are particularly disgusted by Gay Day at Disney World and the Teen Nick show Degrassi, which features LGBT characters. But the backlash is happening anyway. As of this writing, the #LowesHatesMuslims Twitter hashtag is attracting multiple messages every minute.

Though Muslims and atheists certainly have some stark disagreements, I think it’s important for us to take stands against sectarianism in all of its forms. The fears FFA are expressing are irrational and contrary to the evidence that American Muslims (who represent less than 1% of the population) tend to be moderate and participate positively in American life. And the type of rhetoric used against them is largely the same as that used against against gays and secularists.

Catholic League Announces ‘Adopt an Atheist’ Campaign

You remember Bill Donohue, right? He’s the president of The Catholic League, an organization seemingly devoted to portraying criticism and satire of Catholic beliefs as discrimination against believers, and demanding proverbial heads on platters for perceived grievances.

 

 

As it turns out, he might be better off playing the role of martyr, because mockery is not his strong suit. American Atheists president David Silverman told the New York Times that “We want people to realize that there may be atheists in their family, even if those atheists don’t even know they are atheists.”

This is Donohue’s rebuttal:

We think there is some merit in David’s idea, even if he has things backwards, as usual. Today we are launching our “Adopt An Atheist” campaign, the predicate of which is, “We want atheists to realize that there may be Christians in their community, even if those Christians don’t even know they are Christian.”

Here’s what our campaign entails. We are asking everyone to contact the American Atheist affiliate in his area, letting them know of your interest in “adopting” one of them. All it takes is an e-mail. Let them know of your sincere interest in working with them to uncover their inner self. They may be resistant at first, but eventually they may come to understand that they were Christian all along.

Donohue seems to labor under a serious misunderstanding. For him, the notion of a self-identified atheist not knowing that deep down, in her heart of hearts, that she is really a follower of Christ, is just as ridiculous as the notion of a self-identified Christian being an atheist in secret. The idea that a person could be unaware of their own atheism (as I once was) must seem especially ludicrous to him.

The path to atheism from a religious upbringing is, for many, a very complicated one. I intellectually rejected Christianity at age 15, but I still behaved like a Christian amongst most of my family, and members of my church. All the while, I personally struggled with what I did believe in the absence of a specific religion. I went from Christian, to agnostic, to Deist, and back to agnostic again over the course of the next seven years. Eventually, I came to a point at which I had exhausted all of my attempts to believe in God, but was unwilling to utterly dismiss the possibility.

When I finally picked up The God Delusion a year and a half ago, I was introduced to Richard Dawkins’ formulation of the belief scale, and found myself sharing his position: “I don’t know for certain but I think God is very improbable, and I live my life on the assumption that he is not there.” This is a 6 on his 1 to 7 belief scale, and it was an accurate description of the beliefs I had held for at least a year at that point. Dawkins persuaded me that my worldview was an atheistic one, without fundamentally changing it.

So I think Silverman is correct to claim that there are many with an atheistic outlook who have not fully owned up to it, privately or publicly. The media and advertising campaigns AA has become known for can certainly play a role in getting through to such people.

But what about the Catholic League’s apparently tongue-in-cheek campaign? There is a possibility that Donohue does think that many atheists are “closeted Christians” and that he’s at least partially serous. But I can’t imagine what would cause a person in our culture with sincere Christian beliefs to repress them. While there are certainly contexts in which outright expressions of religiosity might be discouraged, statements like “I’m a Christian” or, “I attend Mass every Sunday” do not carry anything like the social costs of saying, “I’m an atheist.”

Negative assumptions about atheists are persistent in our society, as Donohue himself demonstrates in his concluding paragraph.

If we hurry, these closeted Christians can celebrate Christmas like the rest of us. As an added bonus, they will no longer be looked upon as people who “believe in nothing, stand for nothing and are good for nothing.”

Silverman, in the meantime, is still spreading the message. He unveils a new Christmas-themed billboard this Monday — and it’ll appear on this site when they give us the green light.

***Update***: Catholic League communications director Jeff Field told Justin Vacula that the press release was ”lighthearted, humorous and tongue-in-cheek,” adding, “If people can’t be good-humored, that’s their own problem.” Look, Jeff, we know that your boss was trying to be funny. It’s just that he’s not very good at it.

JT Eberhard noticed that, in response to the influx of responses from atheists, The Catholic League has removed the contact page from their website.

And, among the many direct appeals to the League from atheists who want to be adopted, my favorite is from Miranda Celeste Hale:

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Mindy Kaling Claims Former Boss John Edward ‘Helped People’

Mindy Kaling is best known as a writer, producer, and co-star of The Office. She plays Kelly Kapoor, the bubbly and vacuous customer service rep, and has written some of my favorite episodes of the show (“The Dundies,” “The Injury, “Ben Franklin”). She also gave a clutch supporting performance in the otherwise mediocre No Strings Attached.

I expected her new book, Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (And Other Concerns) to be light and funny, and I was not disappointed. The memoir portions tell of her experiences as the suburban child of immigrant professionals and the early struggles involved in breaking into the fields of television and comedy. She also provides a lot of insightful, good-natured mocking of the conventions of pop culture and the entertainment industry.

Her chapter on romantic comedies, which was excerpted in The New Yorker, is a representative sample.

I do, however, have two complaints with the book. One is general, and the other specific. The former regards her writing style: it is too conversational. At times, it seems like she is tossing off a witty e-mail rather than writing a book. My second gripe is with her defense of the TV psychic she used to work for.

After failing to land a position as a CBS page, she had to settle for her first job in television: as a production assistant on a show she nicknames Bridging the Underworld with Mac Teegarden. “Teegarden” was “wildly normal,” and “attractive in a Mario Lopez way, with… a wardrobe of tight, long-sleeve t-shirts.”

It is obvious that she’s talking about “psychic medium” John Edward, as this 2007 AV Club interview confirms.

In addition to being a foot in the door in the entertainment industry, it was her first job with health benefits. Her primary duty was to assist the producers in building segments around members of the studio audience whose loved ones Edward claimed to communicate with. She was also the point of contact for many guests in the weeks following their appearance on the show, and sometimes spent hours talking with them about their deceased relatives and friends. She writes that the concentrated listening involved with the task was useful experience when she became a producer for The Office.

Reflecting on her time with the show, she decides that the program did more good than harm.

If I had to testify under oath, I would admit, no, I don’t believe Mac Teegarden is psychic. I’ve just been made too aware of people like Carl Sagan and basic science and stuff. I am certain, though, that Mac Teegarden provided an enormous amount of comfort to people who had unexpectedly lost loved ones. I don’t know if it was psychic, but it was cathartic, and therapeutic, and it helped people.

Kaling was the one who talked to these people, so she knows better than I do how Edward’s “help” affected them. The broader picture, however, is not so kind to the man.

First of all, “psychics” who do not have TV shows still need to make a living, and they charge money: sometimes quite a bit. That the time and money people spend trying to forge a supernatural connection with someone they have lost would be better spent in seeking professional, scientific help should be uncontroversial. In some cases, seeking out help from self-declared mediums can become habit-forming, taking on qualities often associated with addiction. Putting John Edward and his ilk on TV promotes and legitimizes this dishonest industry.

And what about the all the people who make it into the studio audience but are unable to get a reading from Edward? That has to be a crushing blow for a grieving person. And Kaling herself brings up another unsettling point in the AV Club interview:

People really did seem to believe. We’d get these letters too, people were like, “I’ve been waiting a year and a half just to come on the show,” and it’s just this shitty little studio off in Astoria. We were just like, “Wow.”

Imagine someone waiting a year and a half with the false hope of getting some scrap of information from a person they have loved and lost. The idea is both heartbreaking and outrageous. I cannot fathom a way that such a thing could be good for their mental health. It is unfortunate that Kaling, having taken on the task of writing about her experiences on the show, does not seem to have considered the implications of its practices and of Edward’s profession.

I should re-iterate that most of the book is very funny, and I’ll leave you all with the unique argument Kaling (who identifies herself as a “cultural Hindu”) makes for having a secular funeral:

Please, no religious stuff. I kind of insist no one mention God or anything at my funeral. I’m not making some big atheistic statement, but I want this to be solemn because people are so upset I’m dead, and I don’t want to share the spotlight with God.


Why Can’t Britta Perry Be More Skeptical?

I experienced grave disappointment while watching Community recently. In the third episode of the current season, Britta Perry (played by Gillian Jacobs) reacts to a a photo of a child eating a cupcake by saying, “Do you know sugar is like baby meth? That’s what my homeopath says.”

Britta had been one of my favorite atheist characters on TV up to that point.

 

 

There have been several prominent TV atheists in the past decade, but their lack of faith is not always seen as an admirable trait. Dr. Cox of Scrubs and House, M.D. are often driven to rage and bitterness by their rationality; Firefly’s Mal Reynolds is a former Christian who ceased believing after a shattering war experience and seems to take no comfort in his newfound doubt; Bones is a victim of her own skepticism, often overanalyzing things to the exasperation of her friends and colleagues.

Britta, however, seems content. Of her peers, only Shirley, a devout Christian, seems perturbed by Britta’s unbelief. In the early episodes of the show, she was allowed to be a voice of both reason and empathy. The Christmas episode in which she acknowledges her atheism, also shows her mocking fisticuffs as a homoerotic pastime and giving a stirring, climactic (and funny) speech about the bonds of friendship.

Now in its third season, Community has taken Britta down a few notches, portraying her as more of a credulous buffoon. In the second episode of the season, she becomes jealous (rather than concerned) upon learning that an old friend from her political activist days has been arrested in Syria and dubbed one of the “Damascus Three.” Feeling inadequate by comparison, she stages a rather pathetic demonstration at her school’s Model UN conference. A running joke has formed about her weak grasp of her new major, Psychology (she thinks that one of her study buddies suffers from an “edible complex”). And she apparently pays someone to dispense health advice along with magical water.

To a religious person, complaining about how atheists are portrayed in American popular culture might seem silly. After all, Hollywood is a very secular place, and devout characters are hard to find in mainstream shows as well. But these two problems go hand in hand. For a while, it seemed like some of the central debates of our culture were being almost completely ignored by scripted television. Evangelicals got condescendingly targeted shows like Touched By An Angel, while the rest of us got series that were largely sanitized of the topic of religion. It is impossible to discuss non-belief without also discussing belief. More honest depictions of faith and unbelief have arisen in the current TV climate, but it’s still not the norm for highly rated shows. Does anybody know what the characters in How I Met Your Mother or Modern Family believe? Not really: secularists and non-culture warrior churchgoers can project as they please.

 

 

It’s for this reason that I probably treasured the fact of Britta’s atheism too much. The truth is that the creative team behind Community didn’t do anything wrong by revealing that she retained some superstitions. The show has always avoided setting members of its ensemble on pedestals and Britta often practiced less-than-skeptical thinking prior to the homeopathy comment. If more shows dealt with the topic of religion, there would be more positive portrayals of outspoken atheists, and the loss of a character like Britta to woo and bunk wouldn’t seem like a personal affront. Britta is still one of my favorite sitcom characters, for the simple reason that her exploits are funny. Holding her up as an atheist role model never really made much sense. But it does make sense to wish that more shows would would acknowledge the role of religion in our society and in individual lives, and more characters who decisively reject it.