The Ballad of Buster Scruggs

The Ballad of Buster Scruggs, a movie written and directed by Joel and Ethan Coen (2018), may certainly be viewed at a number of levels. (Spoiler alert: Watch the movie before reading this blog.) On the one hand, it is a collection of entertaining stories woven together into one movie. At another level, it is entertainment that causes one to say after each segment, “And the moral of the story is …”. Perhaps we could leave it there and allow the viewer to approach it in one of those two ways. Yet, having seen many other Coen brothers’ movies, I have a sense that there is still more to the story. This movie is much like previous movies of the Coen brothers: it generates certain philosophical questions. Perhaps the theme of this movie is most like their 2009 movie, A Serious Man. In a previous blog, I suggested that the theme of that movie was the “absence of meaning in the universe and that the only answers lie in having a good hedonistic time with sex, drugs, and rock 'n roll.” The opening Jewish myth portrayed in A Serious Man would seem to emphasise the fact that random decisions are the difference between seeing something as chance or as supernatural. The most prominent theme in The Ballad of Buster Scruggs is that our only defence against the randomness of life is to dress up in top-hat and tails, put on a brave face and march forward to whatever awaits. But here, allow me to substantiate my case.

I would suggest that if we wish to understand this movie and the mindset of the writers, we will need to watch it multiple times with attention to various details with each viewing. I found that I needed three viewings, the latter two while taking notes, to begin to get a picture of what the Coen brothers are doing. 

Vignette 1: The Ballad of Buster Scruggs

The opening scene shows Buster Scruggs riding through the desert singing a classic song, Cool, Clear Water, made famous by the “Sons of the Pioneers” in 1941 (Bob Nolan, writer). The song speaks of the souls that long for more. The larger than life cartoon character of Buster Scruggs is considered a misanthrope (one who dislikes all other people) and speaks of the sad and immoral state of the human condition. He claims to have violated the statutes of man and God and is shown to be selfish and devious. He is presented as a protagonist and we find ourselves hoping he will survive his several encounters with people who want to kill him and are as depraved as he is. We buy into the classic white hat mentality in which there are good guys and bad guys. This movie continues a theme established in the 1992 film, Unforgiven (directed by Clint Eastwood), in which the cowboys are no longer divided into “good guys” and “bad guy,” all are broken and evil. There is a randomness expressed in the fact that there will always be a faster gun. Buster Scruggs even admires his killer as the two of them harmonize as he departs to his eternal reward.

Buster Scruggs does have the redeeming quality of being a great singer and entertainer and in one scene, he has the entire town joining in with his songs and antics. The cartoon-like violence is heightened in a scene where Buster first shoots the fingers off of a man before gunning him down in the street. I say cartoon-like violence because it is reminiscent of what happened in Yosemite Sam, Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote, and Foghorn Leghorn cartoons of another era. Characters exploded, got smashed, got shot, and fell from heights only to survive another day. Perhaps the Coen brothers are making a statement about the entertainment violence with which they grew up and which continues to this day in many entertainment fields (cartoons and Quentin Tarantino movies come to mind). They seem to be asking questions about what this kind of violence says about our culture and the connections between entertainment and behaviours in western society.

Also similar to the cartoons of the past, when Buster Scruggs finally does die, his soul is shown rising out of his body and winging its way to heaven as he and his murderer sing a song about the hope they have of a better life in the hereafter. There is no reference to justice, only hope, and joy in a life beyond this broken world. Of course, the Coen brothers were raised in a Jewish tradition and would have heard many stories of ultimate destinations, justice, and forgiveness. In this and other movies, they often ask questions about the validity of such world-views as Judaism and Christianity.

Vignette 2: Near Algodones

Another selfish man attempts to rob a bank for his own gain. The bank appears to be easy to rob and is in the middle of nowhere with only one employee. But, in the randomness of life, the old man behind the counter turns out to be more than a match for the robber. The banker covers himself with protective pots and pans as a form of dangling armour and takes on the would-be robber.  The would-be robber is arrested, tried, and sentenced to hang. However, just before he is hung, a classic cowboy and Indian battle breaks out and, whether by luck or the grace of God, he manages to escape. But justice appears to catch up with him when he is mistakenly accused of cattle rustling and is hung for that crime. Random events of life and how they conspire for good-luck or bad-luck is a prominent theme in this vignette, particularly as we consider the chance of being saved by a “pan-shot.”

Vignette 3: Meal Ticket

Two men make their living as travelling entertainers. One, the caregiver and leader, the other, an invalid with neither arms nor legs. As they set up to entertain a small crowd it soon becomes apparent that the invalid is a gifted entertainer who has memorized a number of spell-binding monologues with which he charms his audience. The two men do not seem to have a deep friendship; theirs is a business arrangement. As the story goes on, their form of entertainment becomes less and less interesting to the audiences they meet. Other forms of entertainment come and go and take away from the two men’s livelihood. Sadly, it becomes apparent that the two will soon starve if they do not find a better way to entertain the people. 

By chance, the leader happens to see a man entertaining a crowd with a chicken who seems to be able to do math by pecking at numbers on a wall. The leader immediately buys the chicken from the entertainer, and invalid and leader set out down the road with the chicken in their wagon as well. But, before the men arrive at the next town, the leader suddenly pulls the invalid out of the wagon and throws him off a high bridge. We see the leader and the chicken heading off to the next town. 

Many questions remain. Has the caregiver been fooled into buying a useless chicken? After all, he has not yet tested the system. What was the nature of the relationship between invalid and caregiver? Why was the caregiver suddenly so cruel? The Coen brothers are once again showing the nature of the cruel and apparently random world in which we live.

Vignette 4: All Gold Canyon

Next, the Coen brothers tell the tale of a hard-working old prospector who has been working all of his life for that legendary large strike of gold. The film-makers spend much time giving us the impression of how hard he works and that he is a good, salt-of-the-earth kind of man. As he works, he sings an old Irish song:

Oh I love the dear silver that shines in your hair
and the brow that's all furrowed and wrinkled with care
I kiss the dear fingers so toil worn for me
Oh God bless you and keep you Mother Machree

Finally, he strikes it rich and harvests a large amount of gold. But as he works in his hole in the ground with back-breaking labour, an evil man creeps up behind him and shoots him in the back for his gold. We are convinced that the miner is dead, and the story has come to a sad ending. But, miraculously, the old man survives and kills his would-be assassin and is last seen taking his gold away to be sold. We can expect that the old man will live out the rest of his days wealthy beyond what he could have imagined. Again, the story raises questions of the cruelty of man, God’s justice, and the seemingly random nature of this world.

Vignette 5: The Gal Who Got Rattled

A poor man, who has not done well in business, and his sister set out on a wagon-train to Oregon. The brother has suggested that his business partner would be predisposed to marry the sister. So, they set off, but the brother dies from lung disease and the woman is left alone with no prospect of a suitor in Oregon and no money to pay her hired-hand. One of the leaders of the wagon-train takes to the woman and eventually asks her to marry him. He is ready to settle down rather than continue to lead wagon-trains. But, by a strange turn of events (chasing after a lost dog), the woman finds herself separated from the rest of the people and from the wagon-train. The other wagon-train leader (the one to whom she is not engaged), comes to her rescue, but they are set upon by an Indian war party. The wagon-train leader leaves her with a gun to kill herself if he should happen to be killed in the fight.

At a certain point in the battle, the leader plays dead before killing the last of the war tribe. The woman thinks he is dead and so she puts a bullet into her forehead. The wagon-train leader must go back to the man to whom she was engaged to tell him what has happened. It is one more tragic story in the list of Coen brother sagas. Over and over again they are telling the audience that the world is tragic, random, and senseless.

Vignette 6: The Mortal Remains

The final story has to do with five people riding in a stage-coach. Two of the men have made the trip many times before as they use the coach to ferry people dead or alive from one place to the next. We soon discover that there is something odd about the trip and realize that it is a metaphysical journey from the land of the living to the land of the dead. However, the three passengers have not yet clued-in to the fact that they themselves are dead. The two men are “harvesters of souls.” They “help people who have been adjudged to be ripe.” The passengers slowly begin to realize that they are already dead to the world and they themselves are being ferried to the next world.

There are five people in the cab of the coach and each one has one or more opinions on the “two types of people in the world.” They range from the simple to the sublime: “dead and alive,” “all alike,” “lucky and unlucky,” “hale and frail,” and “upright and sinning.” 

Other moral and spiritual controversies are apparent among the travellers; especially the concepts of “spiritual betterment,” “spiritual and moral hygiene,” and the authority of the Bible. One man asserts that “we must each play our own hand,” and “we cannot know each other completely.” We may call another "friend," but “we cannot know their soul.” Although it is not explored, we can tell that each person has a certainty in their heart as to what love is and yet, none of them would agree as to what that certainty is. One passenger asserts that “one can only coax love through subservience,” while another believes that love is domestic and eternal. We are left contemplating the appropriate spiritual destiny of each one on the coach and all three of the unaware passengers have the same look of doom as they approach the door of their next resting place.

The final scene shows one of the travellers walking with abandon into whatever fate awaits him. There is a mood of judgement but no clear sense of justice or mercy. The man simply does not know what awaits him and we get the sense that this rather simple man, who has been a product of his culture, is woefully unaware of right and wrong, love and peace, and ultimate destinies. He simply trudges on, taking what is sent his way and adapting to it as he goes. Perhaps, in the world of the Coen brothers, he represents us all.

Five Minutes

Gretchen Peters writes songs that tell stories and offer insight into the human condition. “Five Minutes” is an example of a song that tells the story of a broken and flawed woman.

Five Minutes

(words and music by Gretchen Peters)

(From the album Hello Cruel World)

(Listen to it here) 

I've got five minutes to sneak a cigarette

Five minutes to myself

Back behind the screen door of Andy's luncheonette

And I ain't got time to worry 'bout my health

My boss Andy says I smoke myself to death

Andy he reminds me some of you

Back when you were Romeo and I was Juliet

West Texas Capulet and Montague

Now I don't think too much about you anymore

We weren't much more than kids

It was nearly twenty years ago I shut and locked that door

Now I've got five minutes

Not much time to reminisce

Most nights I come home from work and I pour a glass of wine

Sometimes it's three or four before I stop

And Jessie makes a sandwich if I sleep through suppertime

And she leaves me on the couch to sleep it off

Now Jessie just turned 17 and she's wild as she can be

And there ain't nothin' I can do

Last weekend she ran off to meet a boy in Tennessee

Just like I used to run to you

I gave her hell when she came home this afternoon

Mascara runnin' down her face

Seems like history repeats itself, and it ain't up to you

And in five minutes

Your whole life can change

Andy he's good to me, and I can see it in his eyes

He'd love to take your place

But somethin' deep inside me just withers up and dies

To make love to him and only see your face

Somehow I've let myself go gently down the stream

A fine example I have set

Between the working and the livin' and the ghosts that haunt my dreams

I've got five minutes and I'm gonna smoke this cigarette

There is so much I like about this song, but perhaps my favourite is the ambiguity in the line that says, “Most nights I come home from work and I pour a glass of wine, sometimes it's three or four before I stop.” We get the impression that there is a problem here. Through the rest of the song, we see history repeating itself in her daughter and we see both women drawn to men who are not good for them. They are lost and need to find a clear direction in their life.

From my Christian worldview I can’t help but think of flawed women in the Bible and how Jesus sees them and shows love toward them. Perhaps the woman in “Five Minutes” is a bit like the Samaritan woman in the fourth chapter of the Gospel of John. Both women seem to be searching for something more and looking in all the wrong places. The human condition is difficult. We are prone to wander from the better paths and stray so easily into destructive paths. There seems to be so little time in life to ask the important questions and find the true path and so we muddle on in the way we have always lived. Perhaps even the author of “Five Minutes” is searching for something more.

“…those who drink the water I give will never be thirsty again. It becomes a fresh, bubbling spring within them, giving them eternal life.” - Jesus (John 4:14).

The Crown

The Crown, Season 2, Episode 6: Vergangenheit

Written by Peter Morgan

Directed by Philippa Lowthorpe

This post contains numerous spoilers and explanations of a current episode of The Crown. You may want to watch the episode before reading this article.

The German word, vergangenheit, has many uses [1] in the German language. Its simplest meaning is “the past.” In some contexts, this can be a “time that has elapsed,” a “forgotten past,” a “past with which some have not yet come to terms,” or a “past that needs to be forgiven.” This is the word the producers and writers chose for Season 2, Episode 6 of the Netflix series, The Crown.

The episode opens with the uncovering of secret Nazi documents which reveal the plans and thought processes of the senior Nazi leadership and their collusion with European leaders prior to and during World War II. Most of the documents are translated and published, while the Marburg papers are labelled confidential and stored away in secret so that the embarrassing contents might never be revealed.

The scene quickly shifts to King George, who, on discovering the contents of the Marburg papers, says that the people of the world must never discover the contents. He says, “Our people would rightfully never forgive us.”

Although most will see the story as a depiction of what to do with a former King (Edward VIII) who wants to rehabilitate his image, the interesting part of this British drama is the question of “forgiveness.” If one notices how many times the word is used in this script, they will get the sense that the discussions between the Head of the Church of England (Queen Elizabeth II) and the unofficial Head of Evangelical Christianity in America (Reverend Billy Graham) are much more than peripheral to the overall development of the episode.

Certainly, we cannot get away from the fact that Her Majesty is wrestling with how to, and whether or not to, forgive her uncle, the former King Edward VIII (and subsequently the Duke of Windsor), for associating and conspiring with Nazi Germany in a failed attempt to recover the throne for himself and his wife who wished to be Queen. In this version of historical-fiction, the Duke of Windsor is seen as one who wanted the throne but could not have it because of the divorced woman he chose to marry. Yet, the question of forgiveness is bigger than one act of pardon or denunciation. Forgiveness here, in the context of this well-written and well-directed program, is about forgiveness in all its forms.

It is about God forgiving individuals.

Billy Graham: “The Bible teaches that all have sinned. … God offers hope for the individual, hope for society, hope for the world.”

It is about forgiving Kings.

Duke of Windsor: “Can a former King be forgiven?”

It is about forgiving a German political movement which brought about the Nazi Party and the horrors of World War II. At one point, we hear the Duke of Windsor suggest that, “It could be argued that we were the ones that made him [Hitler] a monster.”

It is about forgiving oneself.

Billy Graham: “The solution for being unable to forgive: one asks for forgiveness for oneself … and prays for those whom one cannot forgive.”

The drama is played out with commentary provided by the private words spoken between The Reverend Billy Graham and Her Majesty, The Queen. Graham preaches a question and then answers it for the small audience in Windsor Chapel.

Billy Graham: “What is a Christian? … A person in whom Christ dwells. … it means, that you have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ.” (Here he references Colossians 1:27.)

The Queen praises Billy Graham, the evangelist, and says, “You speak with such clarity and certainty.… It is lovely to disappear and become just a simple Christian.” By that, she means that it felt good to be in chapel and not feel that she had to be the Head of the Church.

The scenes shift back and forth but we are soon taken to a scene featuring the Duke of Windsor as he writes to his wife in America. He complains that the evangelist, Billy Graham, has disturbed him and says that “all taste for prayer has evaded me.” We begin to see the Duke transformed from a bored socialite to a demon in disguise. One scene ends with a fade to black in which a menacing glint in his eyes is the last thing to fade. When the publication of the Marburg papers becomes inevitable, the Queen Mother remarks that “this was always going to come back to haunt us.”

Yet, The Queen and The Evangelist are eager to want to forgive The Duke and the sins of others, even as they admit to the difficulty of forgiving those who betray and murder their countrymen. At one point the Queen says, “It is time to discuss forgiveness for Uncle David. … Forgiveness is very important to me.” However, when she is confronted with the magnitude of David’s sins, perhaps there is even an allusion here to King David of the Bible, she speaks these harsher words to her uncle,

“We all closed our eyes and ears to what was being said about you. … But when the truth finally came out, it makes a mockery of even the central tenants of Christianity. There is no possibility of my forgiving you; the question is, how on earth can you forgive yourself?”

It is at this point that the key conversation between Billy Graham and The Queen occurs.

The Queen: “I would like to hear your views on forgiveness. Are there circumstances in which one can be a good Christian and not forgive?”

Billy Graham: “The solution for being unable to forgive [is that] one asks for forgiveness for oneself … and prays for those whom one cannot forgive.”

It is refreshing to see a historical-fiction from the UK tell a redeeming story of the power of forgiveness. The writers have truly challenged us to wrestle with the question of forgiveness for war-mongers, Nazis, attention-grasping former Kings, fair-minded Queens, and a good many other sinners. (Perhaps we might even wrestle with the contemporary issue of forgiveness for men who sexually assault or harass women.) In his time as an evangelist, Billy Graham made it clear that the Bible teaches that “all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23). Vergangenheit, the episode, asks us significant questions about how far the forgiveness of God could extend and leaves us wondering how we might “forgive others as God has forgiven us” (Matthew 6:14, 15 and Matthew 18:21-35). Oh Lord, “forgive us our sins, as we have forgiven those who sin against us.” (Matthew 6:12, New Living Translation).

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[1] http://dictionary.reverso.net/german-english/Vergangenheit ; http://www.interglot.com/dictionary/de/en/translate/Vergangenheit

The Problem with Debate

High school debate teams are a useful method of teaching critical thinking, logic, etiquette, English and Humanities; but, beyond high school, the strict rules of debate largely go unheeded. View any political debate (there are plenty to be seen on YouTube) and you will soon understand that the structure of such debates is loose, judges seldom intervene, and clear, logical statements are rare. The same is true for most religious/philosophical debates. Organizers are free to create their own rules and the courtesy of listening to the other person and responding to the actual question posed is considered optional.

Perhaps some dialogues are not well-suited to public debate. There are reasons why most of the significant philosophical and theological conversations happen in obscure journals, academic papers, and in the oral defenses of Ph.D. dissertations.

It is unrealistic to expect that two people debating an ancient question of ontology, sociology, philosophy, or theology could achieve synthesis, persuasion, or agreement in a few hours. Discovery in philosophical and theological arenas moves in tiny increments at a glacial pace. In debate, the topic must be limited to a very small portion of the entire field of knowledge. You can't quote all of the pertinent sources in the time allowed and judgments must necessarily be constrained.

Contemporary debaters often disagree on the topic of a particular debate. They may explicitly agree on the title; but, the nuances of the proposition allow for a wide range of interpretations. Consequently, it can seem like the two are arguing for and against two different questions. Each debater readily ignores the other's questions because, to them, it appears that the other has strayed off topic.

Debate, by its very structure is a competitive endeavor. Cooperative methods might better serve ultimate reality and would more quickly lead to incremental progression in agreement upon shared understanding. What if two people started at a place in which they were in agreement before looking for the differences?

Another regular problem in contemporary debate is the uneven scholasticism of those debating. The two may be literally mismatched in their abilities to study and debate or they may be equally shallow in their approach to the debate. In 2010, when Christopher Hitchens and Tony Blair debated, "Is Religion a Force for Good in the World?," we saw an author debate a former politician. Blair was educated at Oxford as a legal theorist while Hitchens earned an Oxford bachelor's degree in philosophy, politics and economics. Both were intelligent celebrities, but neither was a serious philosopher. The debate was popular and accessible but did not go deep into the academic arguments of the day.

Perhaps one of the most obvious weaknesses of debate formats is that they usually do not influence minds. Entrance polls versus exit polls of audiences at debates typically show little movement. Most people come away from a debate with the same opinion with which they entered.

Most of us have at one time or another been enamoured by the potential of a single debate to change the course of history; it is likely that we have been greatly disappointed by this possibility. What we learn from debates is that they seldom have a lasting impact. Arguments don't create followers; but, a great parable can lead someone to follow the master.  This is one of the messages of the life of Jesus of Nazareth. He was a master of telling stories that changed hearts and minds. He modelled a life that impacted the world and caused others to imitate his ethics, morality, and spirituality.

Story-telling, poetry, art, and literature are better tools than debate. If you want to change hearts and minds, don't become a student of debate; instead, become a poet, a song-writer, a sculptor, an artist, a writer, or a film-maker. There is good evidence that these disciplines will have a greater and more lasting effect.

The World We Didn't Create

This quote by Eugene Peterson fits well with my own thoughts of the last few days.

Before it ever crossed our minds that God might be important, God singled us out as important.  Before we were formed in the womb, God knew us.  We are known before we know.
This realization has a practical result: no longer do we run here and there.  Our lives are not puzzles to be figured out.  Rather, we come to God, who knows us and reveals to us the truth of our lives.  The fundamental mistake is to begin with ourselves and not God.  God is the center from which all life develops.  If we use our ego as the center from which to plot the geometry of our lives, we will live eccentrically.
All wise reflection corroborates Scripture here.  We enter a world we didn't create.  We grow into a life already provided for us.  We arrive in a complex of relationships with other wills and destinies that are already in full operation before we are introduced.  If we are going to live appropriately, we must be aware that we are living in the middle of a story that was begun and will be concluded by another.  And this other is God.
My identity does not begin when I begin to understand myself.  There is something previous to what I think about myself, and it is what God thinks of me.  That means that everything I think and feel is by nature a response, and the one to whom I respond is God.  I never speak the first word.  I never make the first move.1.

It occurs to me that if we start with ourselves and extrapolate to God, we end up with a superhuman, a god made in our own image. If we start with God we find that we are marked with his image. We end up with little creators.

1. Eugene H. Peterson, Run With the Horses (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 1983), p. 38.