So he made a whip out of cords, and drove them all from the temple... John 2:15 - New International Version
In today’s Hollywood, why in God’s name would anyone want to be a casting director? Granted, casting decisions aren’t the sole discretion of the person with “CSA” after their name in the end credits, but theirs is the title containing the verb most associate with who plays what part. In addition to being the go-betweens for directors and producers and actors and agents, casting directors are now beholden to a discerning film-going public whose judgement often springs from a sense of entitlement. Because so many of today’s films are remakes, reboots, or adaptations, audiences go into theaters feeling as if they already know the characters they’ll see on screen. If what’s projected is out of character with the images they already hold in their heads, then filmgoers are bound to be vocally disappointed.
The recent controversies about the racial make-up of the casts of The Hunger Games and Exodus: Gods & Kings reveal how politicized casting choices can be, whereas other films like Fifty Shades of Gray and virtually every movie adapted from a comic book have to overcome the preconceived notions of how the characters are supposed to look. Take the case of Quicksilver – a speedy character from Marvel comics – who was uniquely imagined on screen by two different studios within a year via a strange twist of licensing. Will audiences be willing to accept both versions of this character? If not, then surely the credibility of one of these films will suffer.
Aside from the baggage brought to the theater by film-goers, one must also make room for what actors leave at the platform. I’m not just talking about times actors seem to phone it in (I’m thinking of you in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, Kevin Costner… Couldn’t you have at least attempted a passable British accent?). There have been stories introduced on the big screen where actors cast did not, and could not work because of the parts they played in previous films. One performance that immediately springs to mind is Harrison Ford’s in the 2000 Robert Zemeckis thriller What Lies Beneath.
The recent controversies about the racial make-up of the casts of The Hunger Games and Exodus: Gods & Kings reveal how politicized casting choices can be, whereas other films like Fifty Shades of Gray and virtually every movie adapted from a comic book have to overcome the preconceived notions of how the characters are supposed to look. Take the case of Quicksilver – a speedy character from Marvel comics – who was uniquely imagined on screen by two different studios within a year via a strange twist of licensing. Will audiences be willing to accept both versions of this character? If not, then surely the credibility of one of these films will suffer.
Aside from the baggage brought to the theater by film-goers, one must also make room for what actors leave at the platform. I’m not just talking about times actors seem to phone it in (I’m thinking of you in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, Kevin Costner… Couldn’t you have at least attempted a passable British accent?). There have been stories introduced on the big screen where actors cast did not, and could not work because of the parts they played in previous films. One performance that immediately springs to mind is Harrison Ford’s in the 2000 Robert Zemeckis thriller What Lies Beneath.
Playing against type is fairly common in Hollywood. Actors like Gregory Peck, Tom Hanks, and Robin Williams have all taken a turn at being bad with mixed results, but What Lies Beneath stands out to me for a number of reasons. The film is unique because Zemeckis shot the movie while on a break from filming Castaway. When that film went on hiatus so Tom Hanks could get his character’s physical deterioration just right, Zemeckis gave the crew a working vacation in Vermont to make What Lies Beneath. I moved to Plattsburgh, New York – just across Lake Champlain from where What Lies Beneath was filmed – right around the time the movie was released. Due to Plattsburgh’s proximity to many of the locations featured in the film, What Lies Beneath seemed to be required viewing in Plattsburgh. It was in heavy rotation at the area theater, and it hung around long after it disappeared from other screens nationwide. What Lies Beneath was the first movie I saw in Plattsburgh, and I remember vividly how someone in the audience shouted, “Don’t do it, Indy!” as Ford’s character tries to kill his wife.
That heckle pretty much sums up why the movie didn’t work for me. It was clear that Ford was cast because his good-guy image would help to mask and heighten his character’s dark turn. The problem was that when that turn came I couldn’t go with him. This says more about the expectations that I have of Ford based on his past roles than it does about his performance in the film or about his acting ability in general. I’ve been conditioned to see Ford as the good guy. To me, that wasn’t Norman Spencer – the character Ford was playing in What Lies Beneath – doing bad, bad things. It was Jack Ryan. It was Han Solo. It was Indiana Jones.
This sort of typecasting through conditioning doesn’t just happen with actors, and that’s what makes it dangerous. The way people are portrayed – both as individuals and as groups – on the different screens used to build and convey culture can lead to the kind of “stereotype-casting” that lead to the death of Trayvon Martin by making him seem dangerous to George Zimmerman. It’s the same phenomenon that makes all cops bad cops.
But the overwhelming majority of the 21.5 million African American males in the United States are not dangerous, just as the overwhelming majority of the 1.1 million police officers in the country aren’t abusive. But thanks to the news cycle’s blind-eye and selective hand, images of the hooded black thug and the jack-booted racist cop are the ones we take with us into the theater of life. Admittedly, if young men like Trayvon Martin and officers like Wenjian Liu and Rafael Ramos are victims of media stereotype-casting it is because some “actor” played those parts at some point. I’m not chucking stones (at least not yet), but I am acknowledging that criminals of color and corrupt cops exist, just not at the levels the media would have us believe. Actions have consequences that inform labels which are then applied too broadly. Once applied, these labels stick.
That heckle pretty much sums up why the movie didn’t work for me. It was clear that Ford was cast because his good-guy image would help to mask and heighten his character’s dark turn. The problem was that when that turn came I couldn’t go with him. This says more about the expectations that I have of Ford based on his past roles than it does about his performance in the film or about his acting ability in general. I’ve been conditioned to see Ford as the good guy. To me, that wasn’t Norman Spencer – the character Ford was playing in What Lies Beneath – doing bad, bad things. It was Jack Ryan. It was Han Solo. It was Indiana Jones.
This sort of typecasting through conditioning doesn’t just happen with actors, and that’s what makes it dangerous. The way people are portrayed – both as individuals and as groups – on the different screens used to build and convey culture can lead to the kind of “stereotype-casting” that lead to the death of Trayvon Martin by making him seem dangerous to George Zimmerman. It’s the same phenomenon that makes all cops bad cops.
But the overwhelming majority of the 21.5 million African American males in the United States are not dangerous, just as the overwhelming majority of the 1.1 million police officers in the country aren’t abusive. But thanks to the news cycle’s blind-eye and selective hand, images of the hooded black thug and the jack-booted racist cop are the ones we take with us into the theater of life. Admittedly, if young men like Trayvon Martin and officers like Wenjian Liu and Rafael Ramos are victims of media stereotype-casting it is because some “actor” played those parts at some point. I’m not chucking stones (at least not yet), but I am acknowledging that criminals of color and corrupt cops exist, just not at the levels the media would have us believe. Actions have consequences that inform labels which are then applied too broadly. Once applied, these labels stick.
That’s why I wonder why anyone in today’s America would want to be called a Christian.
Like the young African American men and police officers who are stereotyped as a result of selective reporting, the contemporary view of the American Christian is seemingly shaped by a vocally judgmental few. Because of actions like Indiana’s Religious Freedom Restoration Act, the procession of Duggars parading across our TV screens, and the steady stream of gay-bashing but closeted clergy, Evangelical Christians in America are cast as intolerant, judgemental hypocrites that have too many kids, too much sanctimony, and too little concern about social and environmental justice.
I’m aware that I may be promulgating the same kind of stereotype-casting I called into question earlier by citing those snapshots of the American Evangelical community, only I’m not so sure that these images significantly deviate from the actual norm. For a people who follow a religion they claim is rooted in love and sacrifice, Christians are all too often the face of hate in America. As the Indiana legislation illustrates, this is a community that – at times – will aggressively attempt to impose its values on people who don’t share them, and that will selectively determine which sin – and therefore which sinners – are a threat to their way of life (as the case of Josh Duggar clearly illustrates). They will cast themselves as a persecuted minority, one that steadfastly holds on to “the truth” as they see it, but only acts in accordance with that truth when they see fit.
Like the young African American men and police officers who are stereotyped as a result of selective reporting, the contemporary view of the American Christian is seemingly shaped by a vocally judgmental few. Because of actions like Indiana’s Religious Freedom Restoration Act, the procession of Duggars parading across our TV screens, and the steady stream of gay-bashing but closeted clergy, Evangelical Christians in America are cast as intolerant, judgemental hypocrites that have too many kids, too much sanctimony, and too little concern about social and environmental justice.
I’m aware that I may be promulgating the same kind of stereotype-casting I called into question earlier by citing those snapshots of the American Evangelical community, only I’m not so sure that these images significantly deviate from the actual norm. For a people who follow a religion they claim is rooted in love and sacrifice, Christians are all too often the face of hate in America. As the Indiana legislation illustrates, this is a community that – at times – will aggressively attempt to impose its values on people who don’t share them, and that will selectively determine which sin – and therefore which sinners – are a threat to their way of life (as the case of Josh Duggar clearly illustrates). They will cast themselves as a persecuted minority, one that steadfastly holds on to “the truth” as they see it, but only acts in accordance with that truth when they see fit.
Jesus will bring you pizza. Unless you're gay.
The idea that Christians are a new minority in need of civil protection, as some conservative pundits are starting to argue, denies their sheer numbers, and their ability to shape politics on a local and national scale. It’s true that the number of Americans that identify as “Christian” has grown smaller in recent years, but they still make up an astounding 70.6% of the US population, while the number of those who identify as “Evangelical” has actually increased by two-million since 2007. Currently, there are 62.2 million Evangelical Christians in the United States. Christians carry so much sway that legitimate presidential contenders launch their campaigns from Evangelical institutions. When an Indiana mom and pop pizza shop run by an Evangelical family came under fire for their support of the states Religious Freedom Restoration Act (don't do it, Indy!) – while also announcing that they wouldn’t cater a gay wedding should they ever have the opportunity – the evangelical community – led by Evangelical media personality Dana Loesch – rallied to their aid, raising over three quarters of a million dollars in less than a month (so now the poor can eat pizza?).
How would denying a gay couple and their wedding party food advance Christ’s message? Conversely, how does opening marriage up to gay couples encroach upon the ability to walk down the spiritual path of one’s choosing?
It doesn’t.
Jesus cleared the temple of the judgmental and the corrupt. He taught that there is no virtue in throwing stones. But as long as Christian groups like The Family Research Council (a group the molesting Duggar once held a prominent position in) choose to argue the opposite, Christians like me will be rightfully cast as villains.
How would denying a gay couple and their wedding party food advance Christ’s message? Conversely, how does opening marriage up to gay couples encroach upon the ability to walk down the spiritual path of one’s choosing?
It doesn’t.
Jesus cleared the temple of the judgmental and the corrupt. He taught that there is no virtue in throwing stones. But as long as Christian groups like The Family Research Council (a group the molesting Duggar once held a prominent position in) choose to argue the opposite, Christians like me will be rightfully cast as villains.
Header art by T. Guzzio. Original photo by FaseExtra.
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In addition to editing Prodigal's Chair, Tom is a teacher, father, husband, writer, artist, futbol fan and slightly maladjusted optimist. He lives in Beverly, Massachusetts with his wife and their aging incontinent cocker spaniel, Honey (who approves this message). You can connect with him on Twitter @t_guzzio, or via email at [email protected].
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