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Thoughts on Neil LaBute and Richard Dutcher
Nov 8, 2007 9:11 am
I recently watched three films by Neil LaBute. In the past I also saw bash, which brings the total LaBute works I've seen up to four.
These works are:
bash (a Showtime adaptation of the play)
Nurse Betty
In the Company of Men
The Shape of Things
If anyone doesn't know the history of LaBute, here's what little I know:
He joined the LDS church.
His good standing in the church was questioned and ultimately affected through disfellowshipment, and he claims it was his art that brought this decision about.
He finally decided Mormonism was not for him and he left the church.
As I discuss what I think of LaBute's work, I find it interesting to compare him to another one-time filmmaker who appears to have a history similar in some respects: Richard Dutcher.
Dutcher joined the church.
His good standing was questioned, although unofficially by some rank-and-file members, and never by official leaders as far as I know.
He finally decided Mormonism was not for him and has left calling himself a Mormon, although I imagine he's still a member of record.
I've also seen four examples of Dutcher's work:
God's Army
Brigham City
States of Grace
Falling
In spite of the similar-sounding history, when I compare the works of these two artists, I find drastic contrast between the two.
First, LaBute:
I need to pretty much dismiss Nurse Betty because, of the four, it's the one he didn't write. He only directed it. The contrast between it and his other work is also drastic.
The one overriding thing I notice about LaBute's work is the utter lack of soul many of his characters seem to have. bash was three one-actors thematically strung together into one play. All three plays were about a character who committed unspeakable acts in spite of their Mormon religion--and arguably using their religion to justify them. Acts two and three had characters who may have had half a soul, because they did some soul-searching about what they'd done--not enough to regret it, but enough to be troubled by it and go to the effort to justify what they'd done.
The first act had a character who was truly soulless, glorifying in what he'd done, not really putting out a great effort to justify it because he didn't think there was anything that needed justifying.
In the Company of Men was the story of two men who decided to both woo the same woman at the same time, then unceremoniously dump her and break her heart as payback for what women had done to them. One of them had that half-a-soul because he felt turmoil over it (although that didn't stop him from doing it). The other was a total sociopath and never once felt guilt over what he was doing.
What made matters worse were that the woman they chose needed to be "broken" in some way. They chose a deaf woman. This was especially painful for me to watch since my ex-wife is deaf, and I'm aware of the abuse many deaf people go through in life, starting with their own families.
I can't talk about the soullessness of The Shape of Things because revealing its manifestation would be too much of a spoiler for the film. Suffice it to say the soulless character in that film is just as devoid of guilt over the unspeakable act as the character in the previous film.
Nurse Betty, on the other hand, had characters who were nothing but soul. Even the antagonists--even the jerks--had some soul to them. It's obvious that LaBute was no more than a hired gun to direct Nurse Betty because no way in a million years would he have written a story like this.
Nurse Betty was by far the funnest one to watch. It resonated at the level of the soul. The other LaBute works were disconcerting, even painful, to watch. But I'm not giving them a negative critique when I say that. They also resonated--just not at the level of the soul. They resonated at the level of the intellect, at the level of moral outrage. They were powerful, well-done films that accomplished what LaBute intended.
That's what I want to talk about--what LaBute intended. LaBute is probably the most extreme a filmmaker can get with dark but significant messages without sliding into a Tarantino-esque desensitization to the theme (cf. Kill Bill). LaBute is clearly a moral storyteller--but he approaches it from the opposite end of the spectrum from the sermon. He shows us in vivid technicolor what im- and a-morality is all about.
If there ever was an artist who epitomized the concept of decrying evil by depicting it, it's LaBute. If there ever was a rebuttal to the belief that depicting evil is condoning evil, it's LaBute. Never never never once in any of his works do you get the sense that he's on the side of the soulless characters.
What LaBute does not do is immerse his art in Mormonism. In no sense of the word is LaBute a Mormon artist.
Other than a few superficial references in bash, you would never dream that LaBute had ever been a Mormon by simply viewing his work. Nothing in it seems to have sprung from Mormonism specifically, although it condemns evil that is universally recognized, including by Mormons.
I find this interesting in light of recent accusations I've been exposed to that Richard Dutcher was never really Mormon, and (in hindsight only) brings the "Mormonness" of his work into question.
There seems little doubt that LaBute was ever truly Mormon. I don't know why he joined the church, but his work seems to indicate that he never truly became Mormon. A number of LDS artists criticized him for putting "his art" above "the gospel." I don't think he did any such thing. I doubt he ever felt like he had "the gospel" in the first place, so of course he's going to put his art above something he was never converted to.
Dutcher, on the other hand, was a Mormon for a long time, and his religion permeated all he did after his first film Girl Crazy. His work was obviously, blatantly Mormon, through and through. His medium was first, last, and foremost Mormon. All you had to do was view one of his films, and you knew.
States of Grace (his third LDS film) is the film most under scrutiny for its "Mormonness." There are those who--in hindsight, because no one ever questioned it before Dutcher announced he was moving on from Mormonism--are claiming that States of Grace was Mormon like a wolf in sheep's clothing is sheeply. They claim that it's a deceptive guerrilla attack against Mormon Christianity and for traditional Christianity.
Compared to LaBute, the contrast is so striking that it seems laughable to claim any Dutcher film is not Mormon. LaBute was never Mormon--Dutcher was nothing but in contrast.
Nevertheless, we know that Dutcher moved on from Mormonism, so I guess it's a legitimate question to ask--did his developing renunciation of Mormonism influence States of Grace?
I think that depends entirely on how you view Mormonism. If you view it as an absolute, rigid set of beliefs that do not vary from one faithful Mormon to another, then I guess you'd have to say, yes, States of Grace was subversive toward that kind of Mormonism.
But I think it's ludicrous to see Mormonism that way. First of all, anyone who thinks that the evolution of Mormon doctrine over the decades has been rigid, absolute, and uniform is either a fool or ignorant of history. Second, there is wide variation among Mormons how official doctrine is perceived, interpreted, and understood. It seems nothing short of arrogance to me to claim that one's view of Mormonism is the view of Mormonism.
I do see how some people could interpret some of the messages in States of Grace as subversive to orthodox Mormonism. But I don't for one minute agree. In fact, I think States of Grace is more Mormon than most Mormons are.
My perception of States is that it's Dutcher's expression of what he thinks the potential of Mormonism is, what he thinks true Mormonism is all about. I think that's been his message in all three of his "Mormon" films. You might disagree with his opinion of what Mormonism should be, but that's different from robbing his film of the designation of "Mormon." Frankly, if you disagree with his perception, I probably disagree with your perception (because I agree with Dutcher's perception), so apparently that gives me the right to say you are not a true Mormon.
However, all this comes tumbling down in Dutcher's most recent--and as yet unreleased--film Falling, which I viewed in a private screening. This film is almost as different from his three Mormon films as LaBute's work is different from his. Dutcher takes almost a LaButian approach to his theme--coming at the condemnation of evil by depicting it in full technicolor. Falling characters are marginally Mormon, or not at all. They've ceased to operate by Mormon standards or beliefs. They make decisions that are shocking by Mormon standards. The title Falling is utterly descriptive of the plot. This is about as much "falling" as a human being can accomplish in a feature-length movie.
But I say "almost" as different, "almost" LaButian, because there are still significant differences between LaBute's work and Falling. First of all, every major character in Falling has a soul. In spite of unspeakable acts, these acts trouble the characters like real people would be troubled. Second, every single character who has committed unspeakable acts get their come-uppance big time. This never seems to happen in Labute's work.
Third, Mormonism still permeates Falling. Mormon references, Mormon beliefs, Mormon morality, and Mormon icons. This is still a Mormon guy telling a Mormon-related story. He's simply switched vocabulary. He's gone from the inspirational format to a classical Greek tragedy.
But he's still speaking the same message.
That message is the significance, the power, and the need of the atonement of Jesus Christ in our lives--and always has been in his work. Now if that isn't a thoroughly Mormon message, then I think it's Mormonism that needs criticizing, not the Mormonism of Dutcher's work.
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