The Nativity Story

Lewis, I think it was, distinguished between a story you follow to find out what happens and a story you follow so as to attend to the telling. And he considered the second the higher form-- “There is hope for a man who has not read Bosworth; but what about the man who 'has read' Bosworth, meaning he thinks he does not need to read him again?”

“The Nativity Story” tells a story we know the ending of. But I liked the telling. It was very Middle-Eastern. The characters mostly spoke English, but they had strong accents. (I kept hoping a Roman soldier would burst out into Latin. I don't think any ever did, but the soundtrack was partly in Latin. Christus natus est.) The accents helped a lot in making the lines more believable. No modern American (except a few lit majors) goes around saying “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb,” but Elizabeth did, and one could believe she really said it. Many of the lines were taken directly from the Christmas story. I appreciated that.

All the characters, really, fit with appearance and lines and personalities. Mary started out decently pretty but not supernaturally gorgeous, but she became more beautiful as the movie progressed. By the time they reached the stable, one admired her very deeply. Joseph, I think, is a tough one to characterize. This movie left me really liking him. Besides being a good and decent man, he even showed some sparks and remnants of wit at times. The wise men, too, made me laugh. They came, the traditional three, with their traditional names and nationalities. And (yay!) they rode camels and brought gifts.

How can it be that God used three pagan stargazers to worship at the coming of His Son? How is it that the heavens themselves told forth His advent and those who could read the signs understood? And what a mystery, a difficulty, to choose an unmarried girl for a mother! All things—a tax scheme, Zechariah's turn to sacrifice in the Holy of Holies, the rise of empires and paranoid rulers and the habits of shepherds—came together at that time, that place, and in the fullness of time God was born of a virgin.

This story brings peace and a sword. There is the sound of weeping in Ramah, of Rachel weeping for her children, and she refused to be comforted, because they were no more. Many died. The story starts with death; the soldiers slay the innocents and then we jump back in time to the coming of John the Baptist.

I'm not sure what was up with the angels. The Christmas story being what it is, and angels being a major plot element, the filmmakers chose to include them. They came; not Homeric or, worse still, Miltonic creatures in mail and walking around with the other characters as if they had a perfect right to be there, but they came. Whenever possible, they were elided and their messages told secondhand. A bird was the sign of their presence. When Gabriel himself did get screen time, it was usually during the daylight, which is kind of odd. But he was male and moderately awe-inspiring and, like the other characters, Middle-Eastern, and the hem of his robe melted into the background. We culturally don't quite know what to do with the supernatural in novels or films, and at least he was there, so I rather approved.

I'm not sure if it's actually a great movie. It was done well (it was not incompetent or dorky) and faithfully, and it proved that Sayers was right and “the dogma is the drama.” It avoided all those tiresome apocryphal subplots, like Peter's king-angst in the Narnia movie. It did a really good job getting you to admire Mary and Joseph. But I wonder if it's more of an aid to devotion than a great piece of art per se—like hymns. Maybe it is. Some of you who are better at actually analyzing movies will have to weigh in on this one.

But for all that, it made the Nativity story come alive. I cried in the first thirty seconds and earnestly sang carols all the way home and for a good hour thereafter. As someone once wrote in an entirely different context:

“It communicates truth, and does it effectively, if perhaps not brilliantly. ...When poetry that my instincts tell me is mediocre is most of the way towards provoking tears of joy, it’s just real tough to be very hard on it.”