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| Introduction  Deb Verhoeven Assoc. Professor of Screen Studies, RMIT University On being asked why he made films, the late great Ingmar Bergman, would tell an odd anecdote about the rebuilding of the Chatres Cathedral: "...thousands of people came from all points of the compass, like a giant procession of ants, and together they began to rebuild the cathedral on its old site. They worked until the building was completed - master builders, artists, labourers, clowns, noblemen, priests, burghers. But they all remained anonymous, and no one knows to this day who built the cathedral of Chartres. Thus if I am asked what I would like the general purpose of my films to be, I would reply that I want to be one of the artists in the cathedral on the great plain...Regardless of whether I believe or not, whether I am a Christian or not, I would play my part in the collective building of the cathedral."
Four Screenplays of Ingmar Bergman (1960)
I don't believe Bergman's characterisation of filmmaking as a sort of communion of effort and purpose is just his attempt at false modesty. The cinema is marked by a sense of shared emotional closeness at any number of levels. Cinemas, like churches, sports grounds and other public venues are one of the places in which people can experience themselves as something more than individuals. But it is the cinema's unique capacity to allow us to experience and understand ourselves as simultaneously partial (one amongst many) and complete (totally alone in the dark) that lends itself to a contemporary sensibility that I think approximates the religious notion of spirituality. Particular films can encourage or enhance this exploration of our ‘selves'; through their narrative themes, their emotional tenor, or their aesthetic choices. The February 2008 Campfire Film Festival features a wide cross section of films (documentary, satire, animation) that explore in detail a particular character's (and in one case a group's) sense of obligation to themselves and to others. For example Ben Palzzer's The Power of Thinking Positive (2005) is a hilarious expose of how too much self-help is in fact very unhelpful! A final scene in which members of a self-help group for self-help junkies gather and learn to accept their ordinariness by chanting de-affirmations ("I am nobody special") masterfully captures the irony that, for these characters at least, being mundane is just another path in the pursuit of self-perfection. Similarly the Lego animation, Grace, uses the clichéd dialogue and plot points of action cinema to posit an ironic twist. Based on the idea that, "A glorious warrior shows grace even to those who do not" the film pits two characters - one who is capable of killing and one who is not - against each other. The climax of the film goes on to uncover grace in an unexpected form - and only fear of accidentally letting a spoiler slip prevents me from going into more detail. Pukatja Sports takes the theme of grace onto the football field. After a quick prayer, the players from the central Australian team of Yuendumu take to the field for a lopsided game of footy against the Utju team. Dismayed by the rough play of their opponents and some pretty inconsistent umpiring, the losing Yuendumu players are counselled by their coach who seeks at once to defuse the situation. He begins with a classic appeal to turn the other cheek: "Today we had a prayer. If they play rough, don't take notice. Just walk away". And in an act of extraordinary graciousness, he ends by humanising the ump: "Umpires sometimes make mistakes - you know he's only a human being - not superman". And so despite their on and off-field frustrations, the team vows to play on. The Butcher's Wife (Kylie J Plunkett, 2006) also paints a very human portrait of its central character, Carole, who in this case happens to be the filmmaker's mum. In 1981, after years of domestic abuse, Carole killed her husband. Carole's moving account of her own story is very raw, but despite her emotional exposure, she is also able to reflect on her role as a storyteller: "I always felt I could never tell the story because it was so unbelievable - even I couldn't believe how I lived." Of all the films in the festival this one is perhaps the most closely aligned to a redemptive narrative in a formally religious sense. And yet, as if the film is aware of this, the filmmaker asks one last question as the credits roll: "Do you believe in God?" Carole's answer brings the film gently down to ground: "Oh, when it suits me", she says smiling. The Shomer (Anton Blajer, 2006) is the only film of this Campfire Film Festival that directly represents religious faith in any detail, in this case following Ephraim Finch as he prepares the recently deceased for burial. Finch is a wonderful mix of spiritual reflection and down to earth aphorism. Toward the end of the film, for example, he describes the need for people to understand the ephemerality of life. "We're here for a specific moment in life and then we move onto another scene. It's just like a movie - cut, paste - that's what you've got to do". Deb Verhoeven is a writer, broadcaster, film critic, commentator and lecturer. Deb is currently Associate Professor of Screen Studies in the School of Applied Communication at RMIT University where she also manages the AFI Research Collection. Between 2000 and 2002 she was CEO of the Australian Film Institute (AFI). Deb has worked on several film juries and festival pre-selection committees over the years: Bangkok Film Festival, Melbourne International Film Festival, St Kilda Film Festival, Real Life on Film, Comedy Channel Short Film Festival, The Antennas, Watch My Shorts, Daffodil Day Awards. She is an active film critic and member of the Australian Film Critics Association and the Fédération Internationale de la Presse Cinématographique (FIPRESCI). Deb is an Honorary Life Member of Women in Film & Television; Executive Member of Archive Forum; Editorial Board member of Studies in Australasian Cinema and Board Member of the highly successful online film journal Senses of Cinema. Deb is also author of more than 30 scholarly journal articles and book chapters. Her book Sheep and the Australian Cinema was published in 2006. In 1999 she edited a collection of essays titled Twin Peeks: Australian and New Zealand Cinema (Damned). Her next book, on the Australasian director Jane Campion, will be published by Routledge in 2008. 
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Faith Responses In ascending order of Australian representation (ABS, 2006)
|  [Indigenous] The Shomer was the Campfire winner for me. I see many similarities in Judaic culture and Aboriginal traditional ways and this film offers insight into an area often unseen and misunderstood by many. The Rabbi communicates with humor and clarity explaining in laymen's terms why ritual and ceremony coupled with strict gender protocols exist in all ancient cultures. I reckon he allows us through this film to gain greater insight into how ancient cultures pay respect to the one guaranteed destiny for us all, transition. Mikael Smith
Managing Director – Australian Aboriginal Management Solutions (AAMS) , Executive Director - The Outback Cafe, Co-Chair - Reconciliation Victoria, Indigneous Community Organiser – Melbourne Parliament of the Worlds Relgions 2008 |
|  The Shomer is a film that demystifies Jewish death rituals. These rites are elaborate and precise. The head of the Chevra Kadisha (Jewish Burial Society) explains these traditions in a very straightforward manner. His compassion for the deceased makes this film compelling viewing. The customs and the reasons behind them are eloquently explained. There are no fancy coffins, fine clothes to be buried in or funeral directors fighting for your business. Everybody is treated the same. For most people, including Jews, this would be the first time they would have seen many of these rituals. It is a compliment to the filmmakers that they have produced such a gripping film on a topic that is not usually talked about. Leonie Fleiszig
Director, Makor Jewish Community Library |
|  The Butcher's Wife is a mesmerising story. I felt compelled to watch it. Like a modern day Bhagavad Gita it reflects the complexities of real life where there are choices and not always straight- forward answers. Our scriptures teach us vairagya (detachment), and ahimsa (non-violence), yet in this gray-scaled world we, as human beings, are constantly torn between the paradoxes of right and wrong. We expect them to reside neatly as polar opposites, as black and white, but often they sit within each other's camps. In trying to understand we often judge. In judging we often misunderstand. So our minds become confused, our hearts perplexed, and our actions no longer appear as they are. Perhaps it is that right action is defined by intention; and so to reply to violence with violence can be a valid response. Perhaps it is in this way that the little battles in life are to be won. If this is so, that leaves humanity with bigger questions to answer: can we ever rid ourselves of this cycle of violence? Should we dare to imagine that it is at all possible? If we were to dare, what intentions and actions do we need to arrest its momentum? What forms of compassion and courage have we yet to uncover? Nandhini Nagaratnam
Writer and Artist |
|  "I see death everyday. People don't see death," reflects Ephraim Finch in The Shomer. And he's correct. In the fast-paced, modern, twenty-first century Western world, we do all that we can to avoid seeing death. Magazines sell us wrinkle cream promising to give us the appearance of eternal youth; we lie about our age as we get older; grey hairs are banished with hair colourants; we pop vitamin pills and eat margarine fortified with Omega 3 and hope that death is a long way off. But that is all a lie. Death is inevitable for every one of us, and the precious few moments we are allotted should be valued and cherished: let us be mindful of their evanescence. "Live in this world as if you are a traveller passing through," said Prophet Muhammad. Jews and Muslims are cousins in faith, and many of the practices are shared as two members of an extended family might have the same hair colour, gait or sense of humour. So as a Muslim, I watched The Shomer as an outsider, yet with a strange sense of familiarity. We too show deep respect for the modesty of our dead; we too lovingly wash them as if preparing them for prayer; we too wrap them in simple shrouds; we too shun ostentatious coffins. The sense of community and connection that Jews feel for each other is palpable in the work that the Shomer does, preparing each body for burial with the same simple and ancient customs that have been passed down through generations. It is this juxtaposition between the modern, clinical, stainless steel environment of the preparation room, and the Hebrew calligraphy on the wall that seems 4000 years old, that is most striking. So too, the wisdom with a hint of sadness etched on Ephraim Finch's face, as someone who faces death everyday. Rachel Woodlock
Centre for Muslim Minorities & Islam Policy Studies, Monash University |
|  All three of us (Judith-Ann, Brian, Senja - not pictured) "liked" The Shomer the most in so far as having something of spiritual significance to say. Brian:
This was a gentle reality check on death; from a Buddhist perspective it is a reaffirmation of impermanence. It gives an honest interpretation of the transition of life to death and shows how death is indeed the great leveller. The question to viewers would be how best should bodily remains be treated? Senja:
This movie contained lots of wisdom on death and the movie of life. It offered a view of ritual and traditional, with a focus on the mind. I liked that it related to death in a down to earth simple way while keeping the spiritual practice alive. It was pleasant and educational and gave a glimpse of a greater/broader view of reality that embraces death. Judith-Ann: Loving kindness is a primary tenet in Buddhism and I found it both interesting and reaffirming that this and respect for the individual are the two underlying aspects to the rituals and practices undertaken within Judaism. Though the rituals are a bit different, the approach to death and life in Judaism and Buddhism are similar in that life is transitional, death is real, and loving kindness is an important part of both. I enjoyed that the Rabbi had such a no-nonsense sense of both respect for the dead and his work, yet maintained a gentle sense of humour about both. Audience question: How do the rituals surrounding death affect you personally? Brian S. Ashen
President, Federation of Australian Buddhist Councils Senja Antilla
Professional Organizer and
Buddhist Practitioner, Hawaii Judith-Ann Robertson
Buddhist Meditation Instructor, Woodend, VIC |
|  The Shomer is of considerable spiritual significance but has less creative content. It raises important questions about the source of human religions, rituals and cultures. It records successfully the activities of a Jewish undertaker - a subject totally foreign to most of us. He is very open and honest about a career many would cringe from. The pauper and the rich man are treated equally - all get a plain pine coffin, devoid of brass fittings. And the rich man's crowd are asked to flesh out the poor man's few mourners. Male bodies are prepared my men, women by women. What does the title mean? A little research shows a "Shomer" can mean a paid custodian. It can also mean a stamper of carcasses in an abattoir. But shomer can also mean something spiritual - such as when the undertaker says "...when He decides to take the soul and the shomer back". It would be nice to explain. My most lingering impression (as a secularist) was the lack of concern about where the rituals come from. For example, the bodies are dipped in holy water, dressed in white garments, and sprinkled with soil from the Holy Land. Most Jewish funerary rituals are based on the Torah (a holy book inspired by God), and the undertaker makes several references to a divine being, as in taking the soul back. But he never mentions the Jewish bibles - either he has accepted the human origins, or he doesn't care. To me, this is a momentous question - either God laid down these pointless rules, different for every sect and era on earth, which can only be some sort of joke. Or religions, morals and rituals are manmade - the product of the huge variety of human cultures. There is a more sinister procedure. The undertaker binds himself with straps and tefillin (leather box containing sacred parchments), producing discomfort or even pain. He is then high on religion, without drugs. I suspect there is a grey area between such rituals, and masochistic rituals such as the flagellation, stigmata and tortuous pilgrimages seen in other religions. What worries me is this: if they are willing to harm themselves in the name of their One True God, then would they hesitate to harm others? Especially those who believe only in false gods? Ian Bryce
Secular Party of Australia |
|  I will tell you something about stories [he said]
They aren't just entertainment.
Don't be fooled.
They are all we have, you see,
all we have to fight off illness and death. Their evil is mighty
but it can't stand up to our stories. Leslie Marmon Silko, Ceremony
We all live out of stories. They are our orientation to the world; they shape the way we interact with it, and the trajectory of our lives. They are not merely resources from which we extract abstact ‘values', but rather form the very actions we take. One of the most pervasive stories of our culture is the story of redemptive violence. This idea is what justifies wars, violence and oppression of all kinds, always in the name of ‘the good' or ‘the right'. One party projects all of their own evil onto their opponent, rendering themselves ‘good' and the other party ‘evil'. The ‘good' party then feels justified in destroying or harming the ‘evil' one. We see this story played out in everything from children's cartoons to our superheroes, and in our own lives. My story is the Judeo-Christian story, one that completely undermines, subverts, and finally defeats the myth of redemptive violence (though admittedly, not everyone sees it that way). In Jesus, I believe we finally see humanity lived to its fully non-violent potential. Here is one who calls humanity not to destroy their enemies, but to love them - to put down our sword, and to become children of the God of peace. Rather than destroying his enemies, Jesus forgives them even as he is crucified by them, and is ultimately vindicated in his resurrection. And so it is only natural that these competing stories are the lens through which I view the film Grace. It tells the story of Travis, the young hero whose previous battle with the villain, Cecil, has necessitated some ‘mechanical augmentation'. The story tracks Travis as he battles for the glory of the Phoenix Badge, yet ultimately battles for his authentic self. One senses the tension in Travis as he enters into the brutality necessary to win the Phoenix Badge, but still he justifies himself. "He was a thug anyway," Travis intones of the previous holder of the Badge. But undermining Travis' self-righteousness, the wise Fabron says even as he lies dying from a gunshot wound, "A glorious warrior shows grace even to those who do not." Is this another way of saying, "Love your enemies"? The film does, however, fall short of pointing the way toward any positive or creative alternatives to passivity in the face of violence. It's one thing not to retaliate with violence; it's another to respond in ways that creatively transforms yourself, your opponent, and the situation. Non-retaliation is a useful beginning point of grace; but ultimately grace pursues reconciliation, the creation of "the beloved community" as Martin Luther King Jr. put it. But this film bravely begins to unravel the threads of the myth of redemptive violence, and forces us to look at how we justify our own destructiveness. Perhaps it's not over something as seemingly trivial as the Phoenix Badge - but violence (in emotional, verbal, physical, and structural forms) is something we're all complicit in. Our world needs more glorious warriors who will show grace, even when others do not. Simon Moyle
Urban Seed, Melbourne  This is the deeply moving and gut-wrenching story of Carole, a woman abused by her ‘butcher' of a husband. She, in self-defence, ends up killing her abuser. Carole's honesty and willingness to be open with her daughter on camera is amazing and praise-worthy. It is encouraging to hear that Carole and her daughter have been getting on with life, but the reality of abuse for such women is deeply saddening and horrific. One feels great sorrow for people like Carole, enduring such beatings, and living in fear and helplessness for so many years. This film brings home how we need to better care for our neighbours and friends, and look out for one another, so that battered women can more quickly get the help and care they need to escape such abusive situations. This film is a stark reminder that we live in a world that is broken, a world where people suffer, and can suffer so unjustly. It is a reminder that our world isn't right. Such abuse isn't right, it isn't acceptable. Nor is it God's intention for marriage. Carole's story reminds us that our world (along with us all as individuals), have turned our backs on God and refuse to listen to him and what he knows is best for us, as he's made clear in the Bible. Most of all, her story should move us to long for a heaven where there will be no more pain or abuse, no more tears or death; a heaven that can only be gained through trusting in Jesus Christ. Carole testified, "I only believe in God when it suits me". How many is that true for today? May we all not just seek God's help when we're desperate and totally helpless, but may we turn to him now and find the healing and peace, the forgiveness and meaning that only a relationship with God through Jesus can bring. Can anything else bring such lasting healing, and true comfort? Clinton Le Page
BTh, Dip Th, BSc (Hons) and assistant minister at Donvale Presbyterian Church |
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