Vampire Movie Month: From Dusk Till Dawn

From Dusk Till Dawn (1996)

Sometimes, you expect that a salesperson isn’t telling the truth, and that’s alright. For some people, buying a used car is a game, and no one in the conversation really believes that a little old lady only drove the car to church on Sundays. Still, if the pastor of that church doesn’t believe what he’s selling, you might feel differently. A member of the clergy who thinks the church’s doctrine is hooey is worse -- their product should be “truth,” or at least the search for truth.

That’s why I appreciate Jacob Fuller’s (Harvey Keitel) decision to leave the ministry in the 1996 vampire film From Dusk Till Dawn. When we’re introduced to Jacob, he’s at a roadside diner, having breakfast with his two teenage children. With Kate (Juliette Lewis) and Scott (Ernest Liu), he’s traveling south towards Mexico in in an RV.

Kate tells her dad she’d called and checked messages on the home answering machine. “One of the messages on the machine was from Bethel Baptist, and they said they wouldn’t permanently replace you until you came back.”

When Jacob says he’s not going back, Kate asks, “Don’t you believe in God anymore?”

He responds, “Not enough to be a pastor. I know this is hard on you kids. The congregation needs spiritual leadership. My faith is gone. To answer your question, yes, I do believe in Jesus, yes, I do believe in God. But do I love them? No. “

The Fullers go to stay in a motel, because Jacob says he wants to sleep in a real bed one last time (the RV beds don’t qualify). While there, they encounter bank robbing homicidal brothers, Seth (George Clooney) and Richard (Quentin Tarantino) Gecko. The brothers kidnap the family and hijack their RV to cross the border.

Jacob drives while Seth literally rides shotgun (well, at least literally gun) and goes through Jacob’s wallet. He sees a picture of Jacob with his wife and asks, “Where’s the old lady?”

“In Heaven,” Jacob responds.

“How did it happen?”

“Car accident.”

“Die right away?”

“She was alive about six hours, trapped in the car.”

Seth sees something else in the wallet and asks, “Are you a priest?”

“I was a minister.”

“Why’d you quit?”

“I’ve got as up close and personal with you as I’d care to get,” Jacob responds.

Seth smirks and says he agrees.

As the audience, we can see fairly clearly that Jacob has left the ministry because of the pain and questioning that stem from his wife’s death, if only because we’ve seen a similar situation in Movie Churches during Science Fiction Month. In Signs, Mel Gibson played an Episcopal priest who left the ministry when his wife died in similar circumstances.

This film, though, takes quite a turn when the brothers take the family to a bar in Mexico where the brothers plan to meet someone offering protection (“If you want sanctuary, you got to pay the price, it’s Scripture. You pay 30%. So let it be written, so let it be done.”) When they walk into the bar, the bouncer threatens to toss them out arguing it’s a biker and trucker bar. Clooney is about to throw a punch when the ex-preacher says, “This bar is for truckers and bikers? See that recreational vehicle in the parking lot? You need a truck driver’s license to drive that. I’m a truck driver and these are my friends.” Jacob succeeds in making peace for the moment.

It’s a short moment, because we soon learn that this is not just a biker/trucker bar. It’s chiefly a vampire bar. The vampires begin to attack, and the two families fight back, escaping to a locked room where they await another attack. During the fight, they discover that crosses are effective weapons against the fiends when Scott takes Kate’s cross necklace and stuffs it in a vampire’s mouth, causing him to explode.

The group assesses their possessions, and Seth recognizes their most valuable resource. “Our best weapon is this man [Jacob], he’s a preacher. As far as God is concerned, we’re all pieces of [excrement] but he’s one of the boys. Only one problem: his faith is not what it was.”

Jacob slugs Seth

But Seth challenges Jacob. “Those are Sons of Hell, so there are Sons of God. Are you a faithless creature, or you a [mean bleeping bleeping] Servant of God?”

Jacob sees truth in Seth’s argument. If there is evil, there is also good, and for the sake of his children, if nothing else, he must represent for the good. “I”m a servant of God,” he says, and prepares for the fight. He agrees to bless their bullets (which they mark with tiny crosses) and bless water, turning it into Holy Water, an effective weapon.

When Jacob is bitten by a vampire, he continues to fight. But he exacts a promise from Seth and his children, “Fight with me to the bitter end. But when I turn, I won’t be Jacob anymore, I’ll be a lap dog of Satan. Swear to God you will kill me.” That time does come, but Scott can’t kill his “father.” Seth does the deed.

As always, we aren’t reviewing films here, but rather churches and clergy in films. Jacob may be former clergy, and he may drink on occasion, and he uses the Lord’s name in vain. But he is also a man of integrity, willing to sacrifice his life for others, which earns him a Three Steeple ranking.

(From Dusk to Dawn warrants its R rating, with profanity, nudity, and much bloody violence.)

Police and Priest: Why Can't They Be Friends?

It doesn't take much research to see there are many more movies featuring police officers than clergy. But sometimes this action genre intersects with the world of Movie Churches. You'll see the results all this month.

Funny Churches Month: The North Avenue Irregulars (1979)

Disney films have surprisingly few Movie Churches. Faith is a big thing in Disney movies, but usually the films are about having faith in yourself rather than faith in God. People went to Disney comedies with the expectation of wholesomeness -- but not righteousness. In the movies, clubs are much more common than congregations. I'm pretty sure there have been many more ad executives in Disney films than clergy.

But The North Avenue Irregulars was a Disney comedy with both a Presbyterian Church and a Presbyterian pastor. Whether either would be recognized by Presbyterians in the real world as one of their own is a different matter altogether.

The film begins with the Reverend Michael Hill (Edward Herrmann, rich dad from Gilmore Girls) arriving with his children at North Avenue Presbyterian Church. He's a widower because actual married couples, living mothers married to and living with living fathers are even more rare in Disney films than clergy.

No one recognizes the new pastor upon his arrival, and thus zany situations ensue. (The pastor's kids ring the bell in the church tower, nearly sending a handyman on a fall to his death. As I said, zaniness.) This is rather odd, because in the Presbyterian Church the congregation votes for the pastor after he preaches a candidating sermon. They would know who this guy is. This could possibly happen in a church where the pastor is assigned, like say, the Methodists, but seems highly unlikely with Presbyterians.

On the other hand, the Rev. Hill seems to have no idea about the church. When he arrives, the church secretary hands him church reports and the membership list, and he seems quite surprised by the low attendance.  Again, in the Presbyterian Church, the pastor would have visited the church and learned about it before agreeing to serve there. But greater realism would result in fewer amusing double takes.

The secretary of the church and the new pastor have differing philosophies on delegation. The secretary and her father (the late former pastor of the church) used to do all the work in the church because then it was done right. Pastor Hill says he's given it some thought, and he believes sharing responsibility will cause the church to grow. So he randomly asks a woman, whose name he doesn't even seem to know, to be in charge of the sinking fund (meant to help with future capital expenses). I'm all for getting people involved in ministry, but it helps to learn their gifts and abilities before entrusting them with responsibility.

 The woman entrusted with the sinking fund promptly gives it to her husband, who bets it all on a horse race. She informs the pastor of this during the service. Hill isn't in the service when the woman talks to him. Apparently, he stays in his office during the worship preliminaries such as the choir number until it's time for the service. (Hill doesn't seem to care for the choir much. He also hires a local garage band, Strawberry Shortcake, to take their place. You know, for the kids.)

Because he is more interested in the gambled sinking fund money than in teaching the word of God, Hill does a one minute sermon on "Japheth the soldier was a man of mighty valor" so he can rush out to see the bookie who took the bet. Maybe this is for the best, because I kind of doubt there was much interesting content in further exposition of that text.

The Reverend Hill's unsuccessful attempt to get money back from the bookie leads to the main plot and, quite amazingly, the true part of the story. The movie is based the Reverend Albert Fay Hill's true account of his fight against organized crime. The real life Rev. Hill was approached by U.S. Treasury agents to organize a citizens' task force while he pastored the North Avenue Presbyterian Church in New Rochelle, New York. He approached men in the congregation to help, but since they weren't interested, the women in the congregation took on the job. Women from his church made bets with bookies and followed money runners; that information was used to by the Treasury to prosecute cases.

In real life, Hill's efforts were widely admired, winning positive national attention. In the film, the Reverend's efforts nearly get the church's charter dissolved. (The process for closing a church in the film seems to be quite simple. "The council" which meets in the "head office" somewhere votes to close the church. Then, during a sermon, the pastor announces, "this will be the last service of the North Avenue Presbyterian Church.") Don't worry, though: (SPOILER!) the church is saved.

Which is just as well, because in this town the police are slacking, and someone has to do the crime fighting. As Rev. Hill says, "If the church is not a moral force in the community, then it's just another building with stained glass windows and a steeple." Which is why, in spite of the incredibly theologically shallow offerings of Strawberry Shortcake in the morning service, we're still giving North Ave. Pres. Two Steeples.