At the feast of movies, I'd like to leave gluttony, judgment and fear behind me. I know that I am free to eat almost anything, but I want to be strong and fit, disciplining myself to a diet of excellent, nourishing work.
Dessert? Alcohol? In moderation, on occasion.
As a critic, I feel more like the nutritionist—doing my best to counsel others on a balanced diet that serves their individual needs and respects their sensitivities. But I also want to be the kind of connoisseur who can speak knowledgeably about the culinary arts. I want to speak with eloquence about Sofia Coppola's sauces, the exquisite wines of Eric Rohmer and the finer points of Martin Scorsese's pasta.
But the more I learn, the more I'm in danger of becoming another character at the table—the snob. It would be easy for me to leave behind enjoyment of the simpler sorts of films and demand only the most sophisticated work, sneering at those who don't understand or appreciate it. I have, at times, ranted against the ignorance of others, forgetting that I was once at their place in the journey.
Jeffrey Overstreet, Through a Screen Darkly (Regal Books, 2007), pp. 93-94
That's very nicely said! There have been quite a few books in recent years on theology and film, but none better (that I've read) than this autobiographical journey of a Christian moviegoer and critic. Whether your tastes run to the mainstream or the obscure I think you'll find it a profitable read.
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