Yes, Virginia, there is a dove and an olive branch

While I found the breakdown of Aronofsky's use of the biblical account in the Slate article instructive, I also found that the author, Miriam Krule, covered much of what I would have if I had written this all the night I went to the movies. The film and its critics were practically screaming for a breakdown of just what appears in the Bible, so I read it again that night.

Of course, I published my own thoughts about the Watchers and the industrialization of Cain, but instead of copying Ms. Krule's format, I thought I might frame the rest of my interpretations using my old stand-by, internet comments.

Some question the purpose of comparing the film and the Bible (let alone Many Waters). "It's a myth," they say. Well, I certainly hope those same people have never criticized a director for straying from source material of a more substantial nature, like the Harry Potter series. The adaptation of novels to film is another element we must remember as we consider Noah, because all filmmakers select the material from their sources, embellishing and sometimes leaving things out altogether. Remember Hermione's pro-house elf organization, SPEW? Totally cut from the movie version...

Other commenters stress that Aronofsky was under no obligation to adhere at all to the Bible; they wade into dangerous territory, baiting each other with comments that the story is untrue or to get to the truth you must consider the epic of Gilgamesh, not the Bible. I'd rather question why viewers expect adherence to "facts" in any movie and give my conclusions about the effects of the deviations made in the film.

The changes Aronofsky made--and I do consider them changes from the biblical story--allowed for greater clarity when it comes to Noah's relationships with his family: specifically with his wife and his second son, Ham. After Noah gets drunk and Ham found him naked, the biblical account offers the most confusing part of the story:

[Noah] said, "A curse on Canaan! He will be a slave to his brothers. Give praise to the Lord, the God of Shem! Canaan will be the slave of Shem. May God cause Japheth to increase! May his descendants live with the people of Shem! Canaan will be the slave of Japheth."  - Genesis 9:25-27

Canaan of course refers to Ham and his descendants, and I'm not one of those who views these verses as evidence of sodomy. Call me optimistic. In the film, Shem and Japheth do demonstrate the biblical taboo of seeing their father naked, but Ham stays several steps away, not helping his father up. Ham has up to this point struggled with his father's mission, and I found him to be one of the most emotionally gripping characters of the entire cast. Why curse him, as Noah does in the Bible? Why does he leave, as he does in the film?

As a younger sister, this preference of one son (or two) over another has always bugged me. Why love Jacob more than Esau? Why show preference for Able? (This questioning by no means acquits Cain of what he does later.) It appears to me that Aronofsky is also asking such questions, and one of the biggest deviations made in the film ratchets up the conflict between father and son: Tubal-Cain as a stow-away.

Ham helps him, even plots revenge on Noah, but Ham is also shocked by Tubal-Cain's recklessness towards the animals on board. The conflict within Ham is just as riveting as the one between father and son, as Noah the anti-hero and Tubal-Cain the villain battle one last time. The son ultimately chooses family over all else, even though that choice does not solve his problems: being alone without the possibility of his own family, first and foremost.

I'd like to offer up this conflict, both the biblical account and the film's embellishment, as a proxy for what is missing: the voice of God. In the Bible, many a verse begins with "And God said..." However, we hear no heavenly voice, see no heavenly figure, and in some cases, we aren't even clued in to the visions Noah has. Again, I think the goal is realism. Instead of the Monty Python version of God speaking from a cloud, we get silence or strange dreams, things to be interpreted. Isn't that more like how the Holy Spirit has communicated with men in the Bible? A burning bush, dreams of cattle dying, not straightforward speeches.

God speaking to Arthur and his knights in Monty Python and the Holy Grail, 1975

Oh stop your grovelling! If there's one thing I can't stand it's when people grovel! And don't apologize! Every time I try to talk to someone it's "Sorry this" or "Forgive me that" or "I'm not worthy! - God, Monty Python and the Holy Grail

The relationship between father and son is analogous to that between God and human. There is confusion about what the other one is after and conflict between the desires of both that drives them apart. To me, it is a beautiful metaphor of fate and free will, that timeless preoccupation of many a writer and artist. Ham's own will is to find a wife and start his own family. Noah's will is for Ham and the entire family to perish as the rest of humanity has. What will Ham do, with his hopes and desires in opposition to the path laid out by his father?

The climax of the movie, after all, is not the flood itself, but Noah's decision about his family's fate aboard the Ark. This is where Noah's wife, called Naameh in the film, goes from "submissive" biblical spouse to modern woman. In her final plea to Noah, Naameh essentially outlines the situation in which they, and humanity, have found themselves: is it justice to punish the good in people in order to eradicate the evil? Her actions and words, like Ham's, appear to fight against fate, represented by Noah. She is not a blind follower. She stands up to Noah and leads me to my final conclusions about the film: Aronofsky's own brand of feminist revisionism.

Nameless in the Bible, Noah's wife and Shem's wife, Ila, already reclaim identities denied them in the written tradition. In their dialogue and behavior, they represent a counter to Noah's vision-driven sense of fate. Ultimately, Aronofsky rights the wrong of eliminating the wives of Ham and Japheth with Ila's twin daughters; we now have the "correct" number of women aboard the Ark, though there's a subtle hitch called incest.

How can these girls "be fruitful and multiply" if the men available are their uncles? If the rest of the film has not convinced you that it is not a Sunday School version, this open ending should finally get the point across. Fox News's Dana Bash laments the fairy tale aspect of her childhood, with the dove and the rainbow and everyone living happily ever after. Jon Stewart naturally replies in his bit, "Everyone dies!" However, as if just for Dana, there is a dove who brings Japheth an olive branch at the end. The Ark does land on a mountain, as in the story. And, in a final stroke, the screen dissolves into the spectrum of the rainbow.

After all the darkness, a rainbow at the end. Shouldn't that be enough to satisfy the Sunday School crowd? I smirked at this final frame, because what I felt was so wonderful about this film were the concept of humanity's incestuous origins and the struggle between fate and free will...in short, the messy, good stuff about the story, whichever version you read or watch or listen to.

So, about Noah...

[Um...spoilers might be found within...]

What could possibly be more shocking than one of today's weirdest directors taking on one of the oldest stories in the Bible? Knowing what I know about Darren Aronofsky, I was prepared to view the film as one interpretation among many. However, there has been a slew of negative reviews, from the Vatican to your everyday Christian blogger, bashing Aronofsky's lack of Biblical "facts" and apparent science-fiction twist on the tale of a global flood.

And I think to myself...why not sci-fi? I mean, it's an epic flood that kills all of humanity except Noah and his family. Animals seem to peacefully hop on a man-made boat and do not wind up eating each other? Fallen angels, giants, all of those things that I know from the story seemed to rub people the wrong way. So I have to wonder...which Bible are they reading?

I'm personally using the Good News version for this entry, along with Many Waters, a novel based on Noah's tale by one of my favorite authors, Madeleine L'Engle.

I must also encourage everyone to watch The Daily Show's bit on criticism of the film, cleverly titled "Haters of the Lost Ark." Among other things, Jon points out that the Genesis we know is a translation of a translation (of a translation of a translation...). If you are bothered that the actors use "Creator" in the film rather than "God," I say go have a cup of tea and read Many Waters.

Both L'Engle and Aronofsky (attempt to) inject realism into their stories with the use of "Creator" or "El," the Hebrew term later translated as "God." It's a bit of a switch, I know, considering the rest of the dialogue is English. However, consider that the point of both film and novel is not to rewrite or illustrate the Book of Genesis, but to interpret it in a new form. The dialogue is a reminder that this is not simply a film version of Genesis, but a way to put ourselves into a more ancient than ancient mindset; we have to separate from what is familiar.

Setting aside the familiar aspects of the story is imperative to understanding the intensely personal and modern interpretation of the flood story. Those who dismiss it as "wrong" and "inaccurate" are missing the whole point. If I could borrow a line from Ken Ham, how do we really know? We weren't there. The following points are twists and turns that embrace the immense distance between us and the time of Noah, and the possibilities of interpretation presented in Genesis.

First, The Watchers: all right, I've read several reviews that scoff at these stony giants as too sci-fi. However, there is plenty of room for such characters in the story. L'Engle uses the Hebrew Nephilim, but it's right here, in plain English...giants!

In those days, there were giants on the earth who were descendants of human women and the heavenly beings. They were the great heroes and famous men of long ago. - Genesis 6:4

A Slate blogger points out this verse too, but then curiously drops the subject. In the Bible, the giants are products of unions between fallen angels and human women. Even in my modern translation, this part made me squirm a bit. There's a tinge of blame, here, as if the presence of women itself is a temptation. And Aronofsky furthers that squirmy concept when Noah proclaims that Ila's child will not live if it turns out to be a daughter who could someday have children herself.

Aronofsky's Nephilim are themselves the fallen angels, who have been punished for sympathizing with Adam and Eve. They become powerful allies to Noah, in terms of building the Ark and fighting off the evil descendants of Cain. I suppose this might be offensive, if you want to see an Ark built by a single man, toiling over the years without assistance. If you want Noah to be an ultimate hero, then the film definitely disappoints.

But this is the age of the anti-hero. We have reinvented and rebooted our Batmans and Supermans to have inner conflict, flaws, and the ultimate Aristotelian downfall. It's the same here with Noah.

My comparison of Superman and Noah also comes out of the more modern twists to the story: specifically the industrialization of the descendants of Cain. They and Noah alike use "zohar" to produce fire; it's a coveted mineral that is a fuel source and a flashpoint for violence. Contemporary connections to fossil fuels, anyone? Cain establishes a civilization of power, metal, and insatiable consumerism. And I do mean consumerism...including consuming fellow human beings. It's an environmental and social side of Noah that I, for one, never considered. But it worked as a plot point, and I do think it is worth exploring further, as some at the website Daily Kos are doing. Tubal-Cain, while an invented villain, exemplifies the greed, power-grabbing, and total disregard of consequences we've all seen in gems like Fern Gully and even The Lord of the Rings. He has a "mind of metal," rooted in the Bible's description of another Tubal-Cain, and with every bite of bloody meat he took, he made me cringe and feel for those animals on the Ark, two by two.

Amid my squirming, cringing, and asking someone to please put their friggin' phone away, I kept thinking to myself, why were people expecting a Sunday School film? In Aronofsky's version of an early earth, they do not live "happily ever after," Noah is not perfect, and I'll write more about why I like it that way in "Yes, Virginia, there is a dove and an olive branch."