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Last weekend, while millions of Christians were celebrating the ascension of Christ into heaven, which, they believe, assures them eternal life, a funny little movie came out that promotes the opposite course of action. City of Angels should be awful. A remake of Wim Wenders' German art-house classic Wings of Desire, it stars Meg Ryan and Nicolas Cage, who seem about as well matched as Bruce Willis and Helena Bonham Carter. Director Brad Silberling's previous feature experience consists of Casper. The soundtrack could have been recorded at a Lilith Fair concert. Weirder still, producer Dawn Steel, who bought the rights to Wings of Desire in 1988, died before her angel movie could be released. The result of all this is a quirky, touching love story with some interesting spiritual context. The story of Easter presupposes that eternal life is desirable. But as Jules Shear sang last Friday night at the Aladdin, "No one lives forever, and who would want to?" Truth is, as readers of Anne Rice know, lots of people want to. It's the essence of faith to believe that there's something bigger than this, some melting pot our tiny souls will mix into when our earthly bodies give out. But does anyone stop to consider that this great beyond could be as fraught with discontent as the here and now? What if eternal life came with a steep price--no ability to touch, taste or feel? That's the reality for Seth (Cage), a troubled angel watching over Los Angeles, which has never looked more heavenly than under the hands of Academy Award-winning cinematographer John Seale (The English Patient). Seth enjoys his work soothing the dying in their transition from life to afterlife and comforting strangers in times of crises. Then he sees heart surgeon Maggie Rice (Ryan) fall into despair after losing a patient. In an instant he falls in love and begins appearing to Maggie. Cage's sallow skin, sunken eyes highlighted by the dark liner he always wears and auto-mechanic expression seem all wrong for a celestial being. Adorable Ryan, with her sky blue eyes, golden curls and slightly uncomfortable body language, looks much more like an angel than a heart surgeon. But her Maggie is all business. A doctor who doesn't believe in God, she's nonetheless drawn to Seth, who tells her, "Some things are true whether or not you believe in them." In scenes like this, City of Angels gets a little too Celestine Prophecy, but then burly Ben-and-Jerry's-inhaling Nathaniel Messinger (Dennis Franz) comes in. A jovial heart patient of Maggie's, Messinger is a former angel himself who chose to leave heaven for a good woman and a thick steak--maybe not in that order. In fact, the angel world doesn't put up much of a fight. The energy of our secular, narcissistic times crushes the angels' quiet obligations (I'd love to know what the Pope thinks about the line that free will is God's greatest gift). It's hard to imagine why they all don't give up their vows for pretty doctors. Certainly, being able to read minds would put them way ahead in the relationship game. Isn't that what we all want, to have someone else look inside us and know our deepest thoughts and scariest possibilities and love us anyway? Isn't that what we want from God, any god? It is, according to this reverse Easter story. Seth is faced with the choice of forsaking profound eternity for life on Earth with its poverty, violence and hunger (and body surfing, fruit and sex). Should he give up the greater good for one single life? Maybe that's the essential question: Is one little speck of love as beneficial to the whole as a thousand acts of an angel? |
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