I already posted the following commentary over on my blog about the arts, The Space Between the Arts, but since it deals directly with matters of faith as well, I thought I would offer it here as well.

A simple warning: this, like most of my commentaries will discuss specifics about the work of art, meaning the commentary will contain spoilers.

Writer-director Paul Thomas Anderson creates an incredible dance between his characters and the audience. Without using voiceovers or soliloquies, we feel characters’ emotions whether they are emotions we would want to understand or not. Take, for example, in Magnolia, when the uber-misogynist Frank T. J. Mackey (Tom Cruise) stonewalls the reporter (April Grace) for confronting him with his true history, we understand and feel his frustration all the while remaining disgusted with the vileness of his work and his lies. Like all great filmmakers, Anderson also has the ability to change our perspectives so that when we leave the theater, we look at the world a bit differently.

I have seen his latest work of wonder, There Will Be Blood, twice now and I cannot get this movie out of my head. There Will Be Blood takes a hard look at the amorality of frontier capitalism embodied in the terrifying character Daniel Plainview (Daniel Day-Lewis in one of the great performances on film). Daniel protects his fabricated image enough to ingratiate himself to the people who own the land on which he wants to drill for oil. Because he inhabits nearly every scene of the film, we can view the bleak landscape through Daniel’s eyes that sees the “ocean of oil” underneath his feet. Daniel is percipient but horribly selfish. He sees through people to procure the best deal he can, often and perhaps intentionally at the other person’s expense. In an uncharacteristically candid moment, Daniel has the following exchange with Henry (Kevin J. O’Connor), the man posing as his brother:

Daniel: Are you an angry man, Henry?
Henry: About what?
Daniel: Are you envious? Do you get envious?
Henry: I don’t think so. No.
Daniel: I have a competition in me. I want no one else to succeed. I hate most people.
Henry: That part of me is gone—working and not succeeding—all my failures has left me. I just don’t care.
Daniel: Well, if it’s in me, it’s in you. There are times when I look at people and I see nothing worth liking. I want to earn enough money that I can get away from everyone.
Henry: What will you do about your boy?
Daniel: I don’t know. Maybe it will change. Does your sound come back to you? I don’t know. Maybe no one knows that. A doctor might not know that.
Henry: Where is his mother?
Daniel: I don’t want to talk about those things. I see the worst in people. I don’t need to look past seeing them to get all I need. I’ve built my hatreds up over the years, little by little, Henry. To have you here gives me a second breath. I can’t keep doing this on my own with these people.

Spending nearly three hours with Daniel is not an easy experience. The Calvinist may see this personification of greed, pride, anger, and malice as a portrait of utter depravity. I found that looking deep into Daniel’s character was something akin to the Ignatian way of prayer known as examen in which a person considers their conscience and actions in the presence of God. Daniel’s sinful nature forces me to confront my own. Though I work to hide it, I too must admit that I am an envious person whose jealousy of others’ success leads to a terribly competitive streak. As an aspiring minister I find myself jealous of other pastors who receive lauds for their teaching abilities, who have successful book deals, who see God’s favor in their ministries, or, to be blunt, who have simply found work in a church.

Daniel is an example of the amoral human, the person who has no ethical rudder beyond self-interest. In my original review of the film, I quoted Matthew 16.26: “For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his soul?” (NASB) In There Will Be Blood we watch two men lose their souls. First there is Daniel and then there is his antagonist, the holy-roller preacher Eli Sunday (Paul Dano). If Daniel swims in the waters of untempered capitalism, Eli’s waters are that of unmoored religion. One may think that these two men could leave the other alone in his respective sphere, but religion and business have a funny way of trespassing into each other’s territory. Eli and Daniel fight for the hearts of the people in order to extract more money or more glory from them. Daniel needs the peoples’ trust so that he can buy their land and drill for oil. Eli needs the people to believe he is a prophet so that he can build up his reputation. Both stiff-necked men scorn God in his own way and we see them succeed in their endeavors only to become empty shells by the film’s end. Their successes and failures leave them estranged from everyone else in the world except one another and, as we see in the horrific finale, Daniel and Eli cannot inhabit the same place. If there ever were a more haunting picture of Hell on film than the bowling alley scene, I don’t know if I’ve seen it.

There Will Be Blood is strangely a perfect Lenten film for me. As this movie swims in my head, I find myself praying along the lines of St. Ignatius’ prayer for generosity:

Lord, teach me to be generous.
Teach me to serve you as you deserve;
    to give and not to count the cost,
    to fight and not to heed the wounds,
    to toil and not to seek for rest,
    to labor and not to ask for reward,
    save that of knowing that I do your will.