I’ve never seen a film that translates grace to the screen like Babette’s Feast. As one of the rare films that focuses on the lined and battered faces of real people Babette’s Feast challenges viewers to love real life. The film embraces God’s love for the embodied, the ordinary and the value of the extraordinary, and a love that wastes nothing.
Son of God is a dud. Just don’t tell that to the film’s producers, Roma Downey and Mark Burnett. They found evidence of divine favor in the “truly miraculous” support they received from Catholic and evangelical leaders. It brought in $26.5 million its first weekend.
Burnett and Downey’s marketing approach makes good business sense and has plenty of precedent.
Candles come out a couple of days After Thanksgiving Day—the four Circled for Advent; others, too, Thick, green, spruce-scented—and erase The memory of darkness more Effectively than tree lights do. They lift their inarticulate fires Toward heaven, the way the world desires What prayers, at best, can half express. One lithe flame dances, yellow-gold, Shimmering on sure sapphire feet . . . But it’s brief, this forgetfulness!— Not much against the dark and cold, Like food the hungry never eat, Like broken peace, souls shrunk to parts. Thus, candles burn, and Christmas starts.