Virtue Quest

The original effect

Tim Burton appears to have lost his imagination.

He’s come a long way since the joy of “Beetlejuice” and the genius of “Edward Scissorhands.” Even his adaptation of “Batman” brought an originality to the superhero movie that had been sorely lacking.

But at least since “Sleepy Hollow” his films have followed a steady trend away from character and plot and toward a desperate attempt to recreate the curlicue atmosphere of the classic “The Nightmare Before Christmas”. He hasn’t bothered coming up with interesting stories, relying instead on twisting other people’s tales to suit his vertiginous vision. He’s put Johnny Depp in all sorts of white makeup (none of which matches the beauty of Edward) and he’s papier-mached or CGI-ed trees imitating the Mandelbrot set or the Golden Ratio (depending on his mood). And he’s sacrificed some truly beautiful stories to these visual allusions to his own better work.

“Alice in Wonderland” is no exception. Naturally, he had to start by making Alice older – nineteen – in order to add a touch of sex appeal and to develop a loose and unconvincing coming-of-age story in an attempt to add depth. (As if a story about a girl falling down a mile-deep rabbit hole needed to go any deeper!) He then gives Depp some erratic antics, and his muse Helena Bonham Carter (does anyone else cast her anymore?) her standard sneer-pout-sneer-pout, and his special effects department a blank check to put as many curlicues as they can into the set dressing.

To their credit, Depp as the Mad Hatter and Mia Wasikowska as Alice turn in solid performances, almost covering over the unwarranted shifts in character and the gaping plot holes. Anne Hathaway, on the other hand, was unable to transcend the absurd role of the White Queen with humanity or believability. Or maybe it was just frustration with Burton’s demand that she keep her hands constantly in the air.

Ultimately, the film fails on the level of imagination. (And yes, this is where I make the virtue connection.) Imagination requires a freedom of mind, as well as a solid grounding in reality – neither of which Burton seems able to muster any more. The closest to reality he comes is the idea that international trade is a way to get rich. But his grasp of courtship, of the tension between social expectation and personal expression, and of the nature of authority all fail to consider the human person anything other than a plot-point to be manipulated into a special-effects sequence.

Ultimately, he has no notion of the difference between good and evil. The Red Queen is arbitrary and unpleasant. The White Queen is arbitrary and (so we’re told) pleasant. But the White Queen also brews a witch’s potion without moral qualm – though she’s made some vague vow against taking life; and she shows no virtue or reason she should merit Alice’s loyalty any more than the Red Queen. Well, except that she is albino and her body is not distended by CGI.

Mr. Burton would have done much better had he taken the time to meditate on Lewis Carroll’s works, rather than mutilating them.

I read books three or four at a time, often at starts and stops, and I take forever to get to the end of one. But I read this book in about a month and a half – which is lightning speed for me. Part of that is due to Kreeft’s simple, even homey writing style. Part is due to his straight-forward organization. And part, I admit, is due to my frustration with his approach: I just wanted to get the durned thing done with.

A Christian morality

Now, I’m a Catholic myself and I have no problem with a book on a Catholic approach to the moral life, using scripture as its structure and stories of saints for examples. It’s just not quite what I’m most interested in, so I found myself growing impatient. I wanted a deep treatment of classical (i.e., Greek) virtue ethics; instead I got a comparison of the Beatitudes with the seven deadly sins.

That’s fine. I learned (I hope) a little patience, and I also learned a little more clearly what my own interest is and where I focus. I’m interested in the basic human side of ethics or morality. I’m focused on what fundamental assumptions are necessary for people to live morally with one another.

Or, at least, I’m focused on what fundamental assumptions I need to change in myself so that I can live morally in this world.

Kreeft, however, has practicing Christians as his target audience. His main purpose is to encourage, and also to give context to the struggles that Christians face in their personal and public lives. And that brings me to the two aspects of his book that I absolutely loved.

Virtue in the public sphere

The entire first section of the book describes the relationship between personal virtue and social morality. Granted, he does so in more melodramatic terms than I would choose, but he was writing in the mid-eighties, when the threat of nuclear annihilation loomed large. Still, he connected the dots between a virtuous person and a virtuous culture, and that is no mean feat.

He gives a four-part analysis of any ethical system. All approaches to human behavior follow the same pattern:

1. The problem – what is wrong with the world?
2. The cause of the problem
3. The solution – what the world ought to be like
4. The cause of the solution – that is, the way to make things better

This structure applies to individuals as well as to the human race as a whole, and to communities of any size in between. He then contrasts various philosophical and religious systems, pointing out the limitations of each. Essentially, an error in the first, second or third stage leads to problems in the fourth.

Virtue can be fun!

The other point he makes is that a virtuous approach to life should be, well, lively. It’s not about dour or tedious “thou shalt not’s.” Rather, it’s about finding the fulness of life, the expression of human nature in its entirety.

In other words, virtue leads to freedom, joy, peace, and happiness. If it didn’t, well, what would be the point?