Out of respect for the people killed or injured during the theater shooting in Aurora, Colo., July 20, Warner Bros. (the company behind The Dark Knight Rises) and several other studios withheld box-office estimates this weekend. We’ll post figures when they’re released, perhaps later this afternoon—but for now, our “Movie Monday” post feels a little different today. It’s fitting: Movies themselves feel different today.
I went to a movie screening in Denver Friday, just hours after the shooting. Theaters were open for business as usual, but there was a certain wariness. Before the film began, the theater manager stood in front of the sparse noonday crowd and somberly told us where the exits were should we need to use them. As people filed in to take their seats, all of us eyed each other a little more closely than before. And the fact that I was sitting alone, near the back of the theater, probably made at least one or two moviegoers just a wee bit anxious.
On Saturday night, I went to a movie just for fun for a change: My family and I went to see Brave. There were no announcements this time around, no one pointing out exits. But there were a couple of police cars parked outside and policemen stationed in the lobby, just in case. And in the middle of the movie, when a guy stood up to go to the bathroom, I felt an ever-so-small skitter of fear in my gut. I wonder how many in the theater felt that same curious, nonsensical jump in their gullet—a start that had never been there before.
For many of us—even those of us who are sometimes critical of the entertainment we see—movie theaters are often a sanctuary of sorts. We pay for our tickets and buy our popcorn and spend two hours away from the “real world.” If all goes well there, we’re not thinking about bills or deadlines or the pile of dirty dishes in the sink; we’re transported to another place and time, falling into someone else’s story. We escape.
But we were reminded this weekend that there is no escape from this dark world of ours—not in this lifetime, anyway, not even for a couple of hours. Truth is, we all live in places as fallen and fractured as Batman’s Gotham City. At the end of the day, Jesus is the only true refuge we have.
It’s hard to find meaning in this tragedy. I spent a great deal of the weekend thinking and writing about it, trying to make sense of it all. But in the end we can’t make sense of it—not through our fallible, mortal eyes.
But we can find spots of hope.
In the wake of the Aurora shooting, people were using Facebook and Twitter to implore Christian Bale, The Dark Knight Rises star, to come to Colorado and show his support for the victims—visiting children in area hospitals in his Batman costume. The campaign, which allegedly began with a Facebook post and spread via Twitter under the hashtag #BaleOutAurora, says that children impacted by the tragedy need to be reminded that “heroes can be real too, not just bad guys.”
But there were heroes in that dark night. I’ve been hearing about moviegoers who helped usher folks out of the theater—perhaps saving some from being shot or trampled at the risk of their own lives. The police were on site just moments after the assault started: Their quick action probably saved many lives. There are heroes in the aftermath, too—those comforting the victims, trying to heal the injured, pushing sense into a senseless situation.
We live in Gotham. We live in a dark, frightening world. There is no escape. But in the midst of that darkness, we all have the power to shine a little light here and there.
Editor’s Note: Read the three stories Paul wrote for The Washington Post over the weekend by clicking on the following links:
Batman tale, Aurora shooting reflects deeper morality tale
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