Analogy, in its original Greek sense of analogia, was a mathematical term meaning an exact proportional relationship. But the funny thing about analogies is that they are never exact: if you can explain something literally, you tend not to need to resort to an analogy in the first place. The reason they are so popular in literature and in Christian theology is that they are different, but by reflecting a sense of sameness can communicate the sense of a mysterious thing better than trying to explain it directly.
The film adaptation of the second Chronicles of Narnia is a kind of analogy of an analogy: a modern adaptation of a 20th-century children's tale, which itself was a magical analogy of the Christian story. Try to apply the relationships too mathematically, and you will very quickly judge the whole thing as worthless. This certainly ain't the C S Lewis book, just as Narnia certainly ain't the Jesus story. But start from the position that it is just a silly children's movie and you might be surprised by moments of reminiscence.
Edmund, Lucy, Peter and Susan Pevensie (you will remember from the end of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe) are Second World War schoolchildren once again, after a 20-year stint as grown-up kings and queens of Narnia. They are back in London and rather grumpy. Thousands of years after their last visit (Narnia time), when Narnia is all but ruined by the rule of the Telmarines, they are summoned back by Prince Caspian, whose rightful place as King of the Telmarines has been usurped by his wicked uncle. By this time, Narnians and their ancient rulers are the stuff of legend, and the children have an extraordinary adventure ahead of them to bring them back to life.
Compared to the first instalment, the movie is darker, less charming, more reliant on action scenes, more awkward and less magical. The special effects have cost a fortune and are certainly impressive - the badger was quite amazing - but seem occasionally either inappropriate (the chivalrous mouse, voiced by Eddie Izzard) or inadequate (Aslan, voiced by Liam Neeson).
I found myself troubled by some awkwardness in the way the film relates to the book. For example, the decision to render the wicked Telmarines as swarthy Spaniards is baffling. Whatever did Spain do wrong? It allows for Prince Caspian to be a Latino pin-up with a husky voice, I suppose, but I am not sure I would want my 13-year-old daughter consorting with him (yes, that means you, Susan Pevensie). And whereas in a novel it is the most natural thing for boys to don medieval garb and fight grown men with swords, it is harder to take early-teen King Edmund the Magnificent (Skandar Keynes) seriously once he is in front of us on the big screen.
And yet, and yet. Despite all this obstruction and refraction, and a good dose of absurdity, there are some themes in this film which take you by surprise with their significance - the distant echoes of a great mystery, reflected through great caverns of analogy.
The whole way in which the story takes the children so seriously for example, focusing on the portentous differences in personality between them, is part of what makes it special. To sit in a cinema full of children and hear them fall into silent thrall was touching - to be a child is no laughing matter when you are one. I may have giggled at 15-year-old King Edmund, but to the children he seemed appropriately ancient.
The fact that the real contrast is between children gives a certain rawness to Lewis's theme of faith versus doubt and pride versus humility: we are shown the first stirrings of human weakness. Aslan is nowhere to be seen, and Edmund takes on the responsibility and leads the Narnians in a massive, ultimately disastrous battle against the Telmarines. Every instinct tells you to be proud of his effort - he is being so grown-up and clever - and when Lucy, the youngest (a wonderful Georgie Henley), asks: "But who are you doing this for?" it seems harsh. But of course it ends up being Lucy's quiet, unyielding faith in Aslan that saves the day, and it is hard not to be moved by the simplicity of the image of the tiniest child of all defeating a massive army. Appropriately, she is the star of the show.
In a similar way, the sense of mysterious awe in an ancient legend coming back to life is all the more powerful for taking place between one magical time and another. We are confronted with ancient Telmarines - who seem magical enough, with their castles and princes and wizards - laughing at the idea of the existence of Narnians. But the long-awaited, long-predicted arrival of the "ancient kings and queens" of Narnia soon brings all the real magic back out of the forest: animals talk once again, trees move and even rivers join in the good fight. It is not that they weren't able to any more; just that they had forgotten how.
The analogy is not precise - in many ways the film is flawed - and yet C S Lewis's story is too good, its themes too lovely, to be ruined altogether; real moments of magic still make it on to the big screen. |
