I laughed. I would have laughed even more if the theatre had been filled with Singaporean-Chinese people, rather than Indians. That would have been great fun.

Crazy Rich Asians is a comedy. We watched the sanitised version, with India’s censor adding bleeps/blobs and deleting scenes (probably – how am I to know, really?). Still, we managed to get the gist of the movie.

Three days later the laughter is lost in a sadness.
I can’t shake it – and so I thought I’d write about it.
Good therapy.

See, near the centre of the plot is a group of ugly women. They are arrogant and intolerant. They are ‘obsessed with prestige and pride’. They are riddled with fear and anxiety about their public image and standing in society. Their view of the world is family-first and class-based. Keeping people out, rather than welcoming people in, is the instinct. Oh yes, don’t let me forget it, they are also ‘crazy rich’ – as in impossibly rich to these eyes.

Like I say, they are a group of ugly women, assuming you agree with me that beauty is something that emerges from the heart of a person. The mother of the prospective groom is a kinda matriarchal leader of this circle of women.

And one more thing. This circle of women is portrayed in the movie to be Christian. We are introduced to them in a scene that I cannot find in any plot summary (admittedly, I haven’t tried that hard) and yet it is the only scene that will remain with me once the months flow by. These women are sitting in a circle, having a Bible study. Bibles are open in their hands, on their laps. They actually read aloud a portion of Colossians in the movie, then a verse from Ephesians and then, before an anticipated move to “Corinthians”, the movie is taken somewhere else.

As I watched this scene unfold, it was like a dagger in my heart. My laughter became more shallow. A sadness overwhelmed me. Yes, I felt annoyed with the Director taking his little cheap-shot at Christianity, a favourite past-time of his trade. Yes, I readily acknowledge that there are people who claim to belong to Christ who fit this profile, although it remains a mystery to me how this is possible according to any Biblical understanding of “Christian”. The Bible tends to use another word for such people. Pharisee. And yes, it did not surprise me that this circle of women is then contrasted sharply with a wild family, a single parent family, and a gay character – each of whom is identified with the kindness, acceptance and wisdom lacking among the ugly sisters.

Yet another portrayal of Christianity at its worst, embedded in a piece of acclaimed popular culture, confirming to millions of viewers across the globe that what they’ve been led to believe to be true is true. With a few days to reflect, I realise that I’ve felt this dagger before.

Like when people take the name of Jesus Christ in vain. The dagger.

Like when Kiwi Peter Jackson’s version of The Lord of the Rings got so lost in the darkness of the plot that the light did not shine anywhere near as brightly as Tolkien would want it to have done. I kept suggesting this thought, but parochial Kiwis would have none of it. The potential for echoing the story of the gospel was stunted, badly. The dagger.

Like when I got captivated recently by Australia’s ongoing game of musical chairs with its prime ministers. I started watching the ABC during my lunch-break. Ridiculous, eh?! Someone unexpected rises to power, a name I didn’t know, but I discover very quickly that he is a committed Christian. He likes to keep that fact in the headlines. It is one of the first things I learn about him. Then I learn that he is the architect of this Nauru policy on refugees. Surely not? A Christian is behind this shame?! Please, say it ain’t so. Nah. The dagger.

Like when I watch Christians – so-called evangelicals, I am led to believe (but I’ll go to the grave denying it to be true) – put a man of such depravity and foolishness into the office of the presidency of the USA. I live most of my life in the Majority World. Far more often than we realise, it is the U.S. of A. that provides people with an instinct for what Christianity is like. These people have no opportunity to meet the good people within the borders of that country. No, they piece it together by starting with Hollywood and the presidency and they move on from there. The dagger.

Now the heart is a deceitful thing and mine is unevenly sanctified and so I am not sure it can be trusted. But as I reflect on Crazy Rich Asians and that disturbing scene I’d hope that one of the things going on in my little heart is a jealousy, a jealousy for the living God – hopefully a hint of the same brand of jealousy which so characterised the prophets of the Old Testament.

nice chatting

Paul

PS: In this introduction to the film, a clip of the scene that doesn’t feature in plot summaries but which lodges in my heart can be found from the 1.28 mark…