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Futuristic flick Minority Report contains
a profound theological message, writes Phill Dolby.
Spellbinding camera work; delightfully dark aesthetics and
a racing plot. These are the elements that combine so spectacularly
to make Minority Report the most riveting sci-fi thriller
since Blade Runner. It is, of course, mandatory viewing. A
film that earned an astonishing £3.9m at the US box
office in just four days. And I suppose you would expect so
too. As a collaborative work of the previously-only-imagined
Cruise-Spielberg cinematic dream team, it was bound to rake
in the cash - regardless of it's subject matter. Yet it's
subject matter is its most noteworthy feature, the reason
for its genuine brilliance. Minority Report, amidst all it's
seat-gripping narrative, ambitiously delves into a fascinating
discussion. It deals with a timeless theological mystery:
the will of God. We have, here before us - moviegoers - an
apologetic gift. A film that, through metaphor, effectively
puts in motion the Christian world view.
Pre-Crime - it works' declares a television advertisement
at the outset of the picture. And herein we meet our protagonist,
John Anderton [Tom Cruise]. Melancholic and brooding, Cruise
is a troubled special cop under an Orwellian policed state
that is the USA of 2054. And as a part of the up-and-coming
'Pre-Crime' division, he's committed to stopping murders before
they happen. Yes, I said before. Standing on his podium not
unlike an orchestral conductor, he uses wired cybergloves
to control a sophisticated data-retrieval computer system
that helps determine the times, locations and perpetrators
of future crimes by replaying the violent premonitions of
the 'Pre-cogs' [foetal soothsayers who lay in an electronic
flotation tank]. So, after downloading the necessary facts
from their prophetic visions, Cruise et al are able to fly,
fly, fly to the prospective scene and arrest the murderers...
before they commit the murders. Crimes of intent rather than
action, if you will.
A bizarre idea? Well it is. Sort of. But the beauty of the
'Pre-crime' system is that it's seemingly infallible. The
murder rate has- after all- fallen to zero. However, things
are not all as they seem in future land. When Cruise discovers
that the 'Pre-Cogs' foresee him committing a murder himself;
he suddenly realizes how the unethical his system is. He gets
to see from the convict's point of view. It's a violation
of his own free will, he thinks. Perhaps he's even been set
up? He'd never do a thing like that! So, quite typical of
Philip K Dick novels, Cruise is forced to go on the run. The
hunter becomes the hunted, as it were. And it is at this delightful
point in the narrative that the spiritual symbolism of the
movie comes to the fore.
On receiving inside information from Pre-Crime's inventor
- Lois Smith - Cruise learns that there's hope for him yet:
the Pre-Cogs' visions aren't always conclusive. That is, they're
not always in unanimous agreement, and there's often a 'Minority
Report', a different version of future events - like God's
plan for mankind - that cancels out the other's inevitability.
So, desperate for his salvation, Cruise races back to 'Pre
Crime' HQ, under cover, to steal Agatha - the 'Pre-Cog' who
might 'remember' his alternative future. Agatha, insipid and
convulsing, soon convinces Cruise that he still has 'free
will' in the matter, anyway. He does not have to go through
with committing murder if he doesn't want to. 'You have a
choice,' she shrieks, 'You can walk away, now!' I don't know
about you, but Agatha's words here - besides their freaky
delivery - seemed strikingly poignant to me. Their truth resonated,
reverberated in my mind. Future events, we are told, do not
depend on fate, rather on us. We make the choice.
If the faulty 'Pre-Crime' system could be a strain of contemporary
Christian doctrine, it would have to be Calvinism. Calvinism
- in a nutshell - traditionally places a huge amount of significance
on God's sovereign will, it says 'Que sera, sera' - 'whatever
will be will be'. Fate. Accept the status quo, God's will
is always done. However, such an idea, I'm afraid, is an unhealthy
way of seeing the world. It lends itself to not only absolving
us humans of responsibility, but also allows us to blame God
for things that are not His fault. How about Third World famine?
'Why doesn't God intervene?' How about War? 'Why doesn't He
stop it?' The fact of the matter is, God always uses people.
As Cruise finds out, the best future for our lives - God's
plan - has to involve us, firstly, discovering it for ourselves;
and then, secondly, making it happen.
The 'Pre-Crime' of this world will convince non-Christians
that their own 'reality' is the only 'reality' there is. 'Death
is the end: there's no God'. The 'Pre-Crime' of this world
will tell Christians that the ideal job they have in mind
is merely a fantasy; 'If God wants it to happen, he'll hand
it to you on a plate'. What society needs more than ever,
therefore, is a people like Cruise's character John Anderton.
A people who will realize there is a 'Minority Report' for
their lives; for the lives of their neighbors, for their school,
for their city, for their nation. A people who will rise to
action and make God's ways their ways, who will work with
Him and choose the very best in every situation and truly
be Righteous Revolutionaries in a day of growing depravity,
selfishness and secularization.
'"For I know the plans I have for you,"
declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm
you, to give you a hope and a future." [Jer. 29:11]
You must choose these plans, though,
for the only thing that you'll think inevitable after seeing
this movie, you realise, is finding popcorn down your shirt.
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