The Mopologists Vs. Hollywood

[malkie]

It’s evident that the Interpreter Foundation spent several million dollars on the wrong movie. The Foundation should have produced a faith-promoting dramatization of the Mountain Meadows Massacre to counter this renewed assault on The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints from the Hollywood entertainment industry, whose primary objective is to make evil look good, and good look evil, and to depict Latter-day Saints as fanatics holding a trowel in one hand and a musket in the other to contest slam dunks by critics of the church.

With all due respect to Tom (and a huge amount of respect is his due), I kinda like what Dean Robbers seems to hint at here: /s

The Mopologists have long idolized killers like Porter Rockwell, and one of the most frequent commentators at SeN is called "The Last Danite." So, yes: it does seem just a *trifle* hypocritical that the Mopologists would object that LDS might be portrayed as being violent sometimes.

Absolutely true.

and their worship services apparently consist only of listening to angry, apocalyptic sermons

Densley should register on this forum and discuss his objections here. Densley needs to tap into his inner movie-goer and forget about Mopologetics. Why would a wild-west movie spend gobs of time portraying LDS services during times of peace? Densley should consider the subject matter of movies in general. Blockbusters are usually action movies and based on them, you'd think all Americans do is fight in wars or commit crimes. Movies are about volatility spikes: the revolutionary war, the civil war, WW1, WW2, Vietnam, robbing banks, building the atomic bomb or ships sinking -- stuff like that. Movies don't sell that show a midwestern family in their normal everyday life encountering no problems.

...

My vote for the third Interpreter movie, sure to rival the success of the previous two, is LDS worship services.

Imagine the excitement such a production would create, and the throngs of non-members who would be lining up around the block at every movie house that was showing it! The "missionary work" motive would be more than adequately satisfied.

Best of all, I'm not asking for anything at all, not even a mention in the credits, for providing the idea.

If the Interpreter folks went about it the right way, they may even be able to persuade Lindsey, Jana, and Peggy to provide consulting services!

[I Have Questions]

I think Peterson is desperate to do a movie about NDE’s.

[Tom]

My vote for the third Interpreter movie, sure to rival the success of the previous two, is LDS worship services.

Imagine the excitement such a production would create, and the throngs of non-members who would be lining up around the block at every movie house that was showing it! The "missionary work" motive would be more than adequately satisfied.

Best of all, I'm not asking for anything at all, not even a mention in the credits, for providing the idea.

If the Interpreter folks went about it the right way, they may even be able to persuade Lindsey, Jana, and Peggy to provide consulting services!

I think there's a potential hit here. I don't know whether you've watched any episodes of BYUtv's classic series, "Worship Service," starring Bishop Ed Pinegar. As I recall, every 25-minute episode was filled with two well-prepared talks and one or two musical numbers. (The sacrament administration wasn't shown.) Ward members were packed together in the pews like canned sardines (I've never seen a chapel with similar attendance numbers), but they remained attentive and focused on the service at all times. There were no crying babies, children coloring pictures or eating goldfish, sleeping adults, or bored teenagers. Looking at the congregants' hair and clothing, I couldn't tell whether the show was taped in 1985 or 1995, but I think that was a good thing. The show had a timeless feel.



It's been years since I watched it, but I recall that the 2001 murder mystery Brigham City had several sacrament meeting scenes. Wasn't there a dramatic and poignant moment in which the bishop initially refused to take the sacrament and other ward members similarly refused?

I think the Interpreter Foundation could easily make a compelling motion picture event focused on LDS worship services that would draw crowds of people. Richard Dutcher might be persuaded to direct it.

[malkie]

I think Peterson is desperate to do a movie about NDE’s.

Do you mean that you think he is dying to do it?

[I Have Questions]

I think Peterson is desperate to do a movie about NDE’s.

Do you mean that you think he is dying to do it?

[Everybody Wang Chung]

Do you mean that you think he is dying to do it?

Well, Daniel "The Walking Meme" Peterson personally had a pretty interesting NDE that would make a great basis for a film. The Walking Meme recounted his own NDE a few years ago. If I remember correctly, it went something like this:

As the surgeon and the nurses frantically worked to re-start my cholesterol filled heart, I floated above the operating table and found myself looking down on the entire scene. Right away, I noticed the surgeon was wearing a Jewish yarmulke (after my miraculous recovery, I made sure to give him a 1 Star review on Yelp). More important, I noticed my half-eaten beef pizza and my three chicken salad sandwiches in the far corner of the room, sitting next to my lukewarm can of Orange Fanta. But I digress.

Soon, I was passing through a long tunnel of light. At the end of it, I saw all my deceased relatives dressed in white polyester/acrylic-blend temple robes, waiting for me and beckoning lovingly, with the exception of my Uncle Bob, who had died before my mission. My Uncle Bob said, “Whoa, someone’s put on a few pounds.” I said, “Excuse me?” And he said, “I’m surprised you could make it through the light tunnel with those hips. Also, what's with your fake accent?”

Before I could explain that learning perfect German on my mission had changed my accent permanently, my life began flashing before my eyes: me as a baby in my mother's arms while she read me a soothing book by William F. Buckley, me as a toddler sitting in a wagon screaming and throwing rocks at people until someone finally paid attention to me, and of course me as a six-year-old getting a copy of "Added Upon" for my birthday.

It was going along like that— flash, flash—until my life stopped in high school, when I had just been elected Student Body president, best dressed, coolest and most likely to succeed. I saw my opponent sitting on a bench crying over the crushing defeat I had just handed him a few hours earlier. I had to relive that awful scene: the crushed and dejected crying of my opponent and my raging anger over his cry-baby behavior ruining my well-deserved victory. What an inconsiderate jerk he was. Then, myself as a teenager recklessly speeding down the highway with my arm around my girlfriend. And, watching myself get a speeding ticket which I smugly and deservedly got dismissed all because the judge was Mormon.

Finally as a missionary constantly arguing with various pastors, then as an adult publicly lying about the non-existent Second Watson Letter and laughing with Bill Hamblin about publishing the acrostic "Metcalfe is Butthead." God, those were good times.

Then suddenly, overwhelming surges of feelings I've never experienced before. Utter and complete unconditional love and acceptance coursed through me as if I were being bathed in a warm, healing light. For the first time, I loved myself and all living beings, even Kish, Shades, Drumdude, IHAQ, Moksha, Dr. Scratch and all the thousands of people I intensely hated during my mortal life.

Before I had a chance to bathe and luxuriate in these new emotions, I felt an intense pull. And then suddenly, I was back in that grubby little hospital room, feeling like my crappy self. Not even a beef pizza could cheer me up. I'm thinking of suing the hospital and the doctor.

[Doctor Scratch]

I think there's a potential hit here. I don't know whether you've watched any episodes of BYUtv's classic series, "Worship Service," starring Bishop Ed Pinegar. As I recall, every 25-minute episode was filled with two well-prepared talks and one or two musical numbers. (The sacrament administration wasn't shown.) Ward members were packed together in the pews like canned sardines (I've never seen a chapel with similar attendance numbers), but they remained attentive and focused on the service at all times. There were no crying babies, children coloring pictures or eating goldfish, sleeping adults, or bored teenagers. Looking at the congregants' hair and clothing, I couldn't tell whether the show was taped in 1985 or 1995, but I think that was a good thing. The show had a timeless feel.



It's been years since I watched it, but I recall that the 2001 murder mystery Brigham City had several sacrament meeting scenes. Wasn't there a dramatic and poignant moment in which the bishop initially refused to take the sacrament and other ward members similarly refused?

I think the Interpreter Foundation could easily make a compelling motion picture event focused on LDS worship services that would draw crowds of people. Richard Dutcher might be persuaded to direct it.

Definitely some provocative ideas here, Tom. Worship Service may very well represent a kind of "high water mark" for LDS filmmaking. It is arguably the Mormon equivalent of, say, something by Bresson or Tarkovsky, what with its deliberate and meditative pacing, and its concern with existential abstraction. A future endeavor along the same lines might consider the use of "glorious black and white."

[Moksha]

As the surgeon and the nurses frantically worked to restart my cholesterol-filled heart, I floated above the operating table and found myself looking down on the entire scene. Right away, I noticed the surgeon was wearing a Jewish yarmulke (after my miraculous recovery, I made sure to give him a 1-star review on Yelp). More importantly, I noticed my half-eaten beef pizza and my three chicken salad sandwiches in the far corner of the room, sitting next to my lukewarm can of Orange Fanta. But I digress.

Soon, I was passing through a long tunnel of light. At the end of it, I saw all my deceased relatives dressed in white polyester/acrylic-blend temple robes, waiting for me and beckoning lovingly, with the exception of my Uncle Bob, who had died before my mission. My Uncle Bob said, “Whoa, someone’s put on a few pounds.” I said, “Excuse me?” And he said, “I’m surprised you could make it through the light tunnel with those hips. Also, what's with your fake accent?”

Before I could explain that learning perfect German on my mission had changed my accent permanently, my life began flashing before my eyes: me as a baby in my mother's arms while she read me a soothing book by William F. Buckley, me as a toddler sitting in a wagon screaming and throwing rocks at people until someone finally paid attention to me, and of course me as a six-year-old getting a copy of "Added Upon" for my birthday.

It was going along like that— flash, flash—until my life stopped in high school, when I had just been elected Student Body president, best dressed, coolest and most likely to succeed. I saw my opponent sitting on a bench crying over the crushing defeat I had just handed him a few hours earlier. I had to relive that awful scene: the crushed and dejected crying of my opponent and my raging anger over his cry-baby behavior ruining my well-deserved victory. What an inconsiderate jerk he was. Then, myself as a teenager recklessly speeding down the highway with my arm around my girlfriend. And, watching myself get a speeding ticket which I smugly and deservedly got dismissed all because the judge was Mormon.

Finally, as a missionary constantly arguing with various pastors, then as an adult publicly lying about the non-existent Second Watson Letter and laughing with Bill Hamblin about publishing the acrostic "Metcalfe is Butthead." God, those were good times.

Then suddenly, overwhelming surges of feelings I'd never experienced before. Utter and complete unconditional love and acceptance coursed through me as if I were being bathed in a warm, healing light. For the first time, I loved myself and all living beings, even Kish, Shades, Drumdude, IHAQ, Moksha, Dr. Scratch, and all the thousands of people I intensely hated during my mortal life.

Before I had a chance to bathe and luxuriate in these new emotions, I felt an intense pull. And then suddenly, I was back in that grubby little hospital room, feeling like my crappy self. Not even a beef pizza could cheer me up. I'm thinking of suing the hospital and the doctor.

Ah, a script that could finally make money and earn some respect for Dr. Peterson and the Interpreter Productions Studio.