Six year ago, I published a piece on my old blog comparing the works of Pixar Animation Studios to those of Christopher Nolan. With the release of both Toy Story 5 (by Pixar) and The Odyssey (by Nolan) this year, I figured it would be good to revisit, and slightly expand upon, what I wrote earlier.

On the surface, there’s no discernible relationship between Pixar and Christopher Nolan. After all, Pixar produces exclusively animated fare, whereas Nolan produces dark and gritty live-action films. And while Pixar movies often tug at the heartstrings, Nolan’s films often act as cinematic brainteasers.

Upon further reflection, however, I noticed more similarities between the two than one might expect. Consider film critic Scott Renshaw’s somewhat humorous summation of Pixar’s output:

As wonderfully crafted and emotionally affecting as those films have been, they all seemed to start from a very similar place: What if toys had feelings? What if insects had feelings? What if monsters had feelings? What if cars had feelings? What if feelings had feelings?

Similarly, Christopher Nolan’s intricately crafted and cerebrally affecting films tend to start from a similar place:

How does memory loss affect perception of reality? How do dreams affect perception of reality? How do magic tricks affect perception of reality? How does insomnia affect perception of reality? How does time inversion affect perception of reality?

Both Pixar and Nolan began producing feature-length films around the same time—1995 for the former and 1997 for the latter. Also, films by both Pixar and Nolan explore existential concepts to a deeper level than many of their respective counterparts. And both Pixar and Nolan have been recognized for pushing the boundaries of cinematic storytelling in their own unique ways.

Developmental Phases

Ten years ago, film critic expanded on a theory originally proposed by Peter T. Chattaway—that Pixar’s films could, at that time, be grouped into three broad phases:

• PHASE 1: “Disney partnership” (1995 - 2006), where Pixar produced films for distribution by Disney.

• PHASE 2: “Looking beyond Disney” (2007 - 2009), where Pixar prepared to branch out own its own, reaching its creative zenith with three ambitiously inventive films.

• PHASE 3: “The Disney acquisition” (2010 - Present), where Pixar became permanently absorbed into the Disney corporate machine, thus hindering its ability to consistently aim for—let alone reach—the stars.

Now that we’re a decade farther down the road, I would end Phase 3 at 2020 and add another phase:

• PHASE 4: “The Disney decomposition” (2021 - Present), where the studio’s decline in storytelling quality has accelerated (the exception being Inside Out 2).

While working on my review of Nolan’s espionage film Tenet, I came to a realization, inspired by the above Pixar theory: Christopher Nolan had also gone through what we might call three phases as a director. The more I thought about it, and the more research I did, the more a three-part division of his output made sense.

Now, it is true that Nolan repeatedly returns to the conceptual wells of time, memory, and reality itself. But even his fairly cohesive oeuvre (as of six years ago) could still be divided into three separate epochs, each with its own distinct characteristics:

• PHASE 1: “Before his time” (1989 - 1999), where Nolan struggled to make it into the big leagues.

• PHASE 2: “It’s about time” (2000 - 2014), where Nolan solidified his methods, expanded his mythemes, and established himself as a force to be reckoned with.

• PHASE 3: “Time, times, and half a time” (2014 - 2020), characterized by two particular shifts in Nolan’s storytelling techniques.

Based on my research in 2020, I completed a detailed analysis of the first three phases of Nolan’s filmography. Originally published on my blog, the piece eventually found a second home at Cinema Faith. Entitled The Three Phases of Christopher Nolan’s Films, it remains one of my most detailed pieces of cinephilic musings to date.

The Nolan Deviations

Now that several more years have passed, I would expand my three-phase Nolan list to include another phase. As with Pixar’s fourth phase, Nolan’s fourth phase begins at the same time (2021), and includes a troubling trajectory.

• PHASE 4: “The times, they are a-changin’” (2021 - Present), in which Nolan’s output is infused with some disappointing moral developments.

What are these “disappointing moral developments”? Well, all the way through Tenet, Nolan had repeatedly avoided the common Hollywood trap of sexually objectifying actors, or including gratuitous sex scenes. As I have noted elsewhere, “It’s not like [Nolan] hasn’t had the opportunity: his narratives have involved femme fatales, prostitution, fornication, and hints at both rape and adultery. Even so, he has [or, at that point, had] navigated these topics with relative restraint—something for which I am grateful.”

That all changed with Oppenheimer, which included both sexualized nudity and scenes of sexual immorality. And while The Odyssey has yet to be released, the presence of an intimacy coordinator on set indicates that Nolan’s newest film might continue this new and disappointing trend.

Based on the quality of my top five Nolan narratives (The Prestige, Inception, Tenet, Batman Begins, and Memento),1 Christopher Nolan remains one of my favorite directors of all time. I’m just saddened by the introduction of actor objectification into his filmography.

So while the heydays of both Pixar and Nolan seem to have passed, and while I remain guarded about the potential quality of their future output, I will always hold out hope that another cinematic gem may materialize in multiplexes somewhere down the road.

This is an updated version of a post that originally appeared at capstewart.com.

The global phenonemon KPop Demon Hunters has achieved both fame and infamy. I addressed the fame in my write-up for CAPC’s Favorite Films of 2025:

The movie inspired six of the year’s top ten trending Halloween costumes, reshaped Korea’s tourism map, and received numerous awards and nominations. The related music album broke major records, including becoming the first soundtrack to have four songs on the Billboard Hot 100 Top 10. It’s no wonder KPop Demon Hunters was named TIME’s 2025 Breakthrough of the Year.

Now it’s time to address the film’s infamy.

In some Christian circles, KPop Demon Hunters has been critiqued for its handling of demonology and it’s supposedly unbiblical themes. I address both these issues in my review of the film: “Sin and Shame in KPop Demon Hunters,” published at Christ and Pop Culture. Here’s a sampling:

Shame is a major theme of the narrative. It is the key weapon Gwi-Ma uses to control and manipulate both demons and humans. And the way Rumi’s shame is resolved has led some audiences to believe that the film’s message is about self-acceptance at the expense of rejecting darkness. In other words, we defeat shame by embracing our faults rather than confessing and forsaking them.

It’s understandable why some audiences might walk away with this message. After all, we’re awash in a culture that promotes absolute self-acceptance as a way to justify all sorts of sins. A character coming to terms with their shame could be interpreted (rightly or wrongly) as being about accepting their shame, or even finding “glory… in their shame” (Philippians 3:19).

I also evaluate the moral quality of the songs, as well as some of the visual and artistic choices made by the animators. You can read the entire piece here.

In a society that praises sexual sin, fighting for personal purity can sometimes feel like swimming against a rip current: the momentum of the water pulling away from shore seems to negate any attempt to swim toward shore. To make matters even more troubling, we can at times adopt tactics of fighting temptation that only serve to encourage our self-serving tendencies (as I have written about before).1

A Substack article by several months back reminded me of another self-defeating tactic, which he describes like this: “I might desire this woman [at church], so I’d better not talk to her at all. In saying ‘Good morning’ to her, my desire might grow!” Noble goes on to say that such a tactic is actually a form of “petty self-preservation at the expense of your neighbor,” and I think he is correct.

What Church Life Should Actually Look Like

Thankfully, 1 Timothy 5:1-2 provides us with a superior paradigm for opposite-sex interactions in the church: “encourage. . . younger women as sisters, in all purity.” It’s a short command with broad implications, and I’ve written a new article about it for Crosswalk, entitled “Brothers, Don’t Avoid Your Spiritual Sisters In the Name of Purity.”

In this piece, I explore the three components of Paul’s command in 1 Timothy 5:1-2:

1. The correct category (family)

2. The right goal (exhortation)

3. The proper means (purity)

I also show how avoiding members of the opposite sex can be self-defeating:

Treating a sister in Christ with “absolute purity” includes refusing to reduce her to object status. And while it may be unintentional, your hypervigilant avoidance of her could actually encourage your further objectification of her:

• By viewing her only through a sexual lens, thus reducing her humanity.

• By assessing the value of her very existence in your church only as it pertains to you, thus flattening her into a two-dimensional being.

• By sidestepping your obligation to love her—both as her brother in Christ (1 Tim. 5:2) and as her neighbor (Lev. 19:18; Mark 12:31)—thus diminishing her worth as a human being.

You can read the entire article by clicking here.

Small Steps, Giant Leaps

Your church activities may constitute only a small percentage of your entire life, but making incremental change even in one area will have effects on other areas. That’s why C. S. Lewis asserted the importance of even little decisions: “The smallest good act today is the capture of a strategic point from which, a few months later, you may be able to go on to victories you never dreamed of.”

Through small and repeated acts of Christian charity, you can learn to love those whom you are tempted to objectify. You can learn to view others humanely instead of two-dimensionally. Your relational disposition toward sisters in Christ can change from self-absorbed to outward-focused.2

That rip current of sexual sin? It can turn into a stagnant puddle. After all, there’s no better way to fight sexual lust than to grow in love for others.

In a recent interview, director Rian Johnson confessed the following about his past: “I was very deeply, personally Christian. . . . My relationship with Christ was the lens I frame[d] the world through, through my childhood, my teenage years, into my early 20s.” Today, he says, “I don’t know if I classify myself as atheist. I would say I’m just nonreligious. I’m not a Christian anymore.”

Johnson’s beliefs, both past and present, make a showing in his third Knives Out whodunit film, Wake Up Dead Man. The subtext of this particular murder mystery is the question, “What is true Christianity?” How the movie answers that question, however, is up for debate.

Two film critics I know and respect land on almost opposite sides. On one hand, Brett McCracken believes the film promotes an “inclusive progressive Christianity” with “feel-good therapeutic vibes and low-cost self-improvement.” On the other hand, Steven D. Greydanus finds the film’s portrayal of two contrasting visions of the church powerfully moving.

An Unvarnished Pursuit of Faith

For my part, what stood out most is how blatant and explicit Father Jud (Josh O’Connor) is about his faith: the script allows his Christianity to bleed out in the dialogue, without forcing it through anything even remotely close to a cynical lens. In that sense, Wake Up Dead Man struck me as closer to a faith-based film than just about any other recent exploration of Christianity in cinema.

For example, Jud briefly describes his own conversion this way:

When I was 17, I was a boxer and I… killed a man in the ring. I built up so many walls of anger, addiction, violence. It was only when I felt safe enough to put my dukes down, open my arms, confess my deepest sin—that was the day that Christ saved my life.1

Jud’s faith isn’t a mere adherence to the trappings of Christianity; it acknowledges the reality of sin and redemption and forgiveness and grace. What’s more, Jud’s faith isn’t easy believism: he continues to wrestle with his own sin throughout the film—whether it’s apologizing for his occasional exclamations of profanity (often played for laughs); confronting the sinful anger and hatred in his own heart; or fighting the temptation to focus too much on exonerating himself of a murder charge, at the expense of serving the members of his church.

And in a pivotal moment where Jud hears the confession of one of his parishioners, he gently but firmly urges the church member to go past a partial confession of guilt and confess to the entirety of what they’ve done. When the parishioner finally acquiesces, fully confessing their sin, Jud speaks the absolution this person longs to hear:

God, the father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of His Son has reconciled the world to Himself and poured out the Holy Spirit for the forgiveness of sins, and through the ministry of the Church, may God grant you pardon and peace, and I absolve you of your sins. In the name of the Father and of the Son and the Holy Spirit.

The Temptations of a Perverted Faith

The film’s picture of tarnished Christianity comes in the form of Monsignor Wicks (Josh Brolin). His stated purpose is to hold the line against those in this “garbage world” who are out to “destroy us: Feminist Marxist whores.” And his main method of holding the line is anger: “Anger lets us fight back, take back the ground we’ve lost.”

No stranger to the damage that human anger can cause, Jud finally shares how he thinks the elder priest’s rhetoric is hurting the flock they are called to serve. Jud’s confrontation gives a good indication of what he (and, by proxy, the film itself) thinks true Christianity should look like:

• In regards to a parishioner named Nat (whose wife has left him), Jud says he “needs to forgive and start living his life. And Christ’s love should be a launching pad for that, and instead, he’s just, every day, getting more and more angry and bitter against his ex-wife, against women.”

• In regards to a man named Lee, Jud says “he’s just spinning out and angry all the time, paranoid,” illustrated by the fact that “he literally built a moat around his house” to protect him from the world.

• In regards to Simone, a woman suffering from chronic pain, Jud says, “You’ve taken advantage of her. I’ve seen the donation numbers. I know how much she’s giving, and the past few months, she’s basically supporting this place. And yes, I believe in the possibility of miracles through Christ, but what you’re giving her is not that.”

• In regards to Cy, a political activist, Jud tells Wicks, “Doesn’t this new YouTube stuff he’s doing worry you? Every week now, he takes clips from what you say in Mass and plugs them into his political rants. He’s coopting, and honestly, I think misrepresenting the church in a dangerous way.”

Since Wicks is a stand-in for what the film thinks is wrong with modern-day Christianity, it could be argued that Wake Up Dead Man assumes political progressivism is the answer. And I can totally sympathize with that conclusion, even if I don’t agree with it.

Jud’s pushback against Wicks’ anti-feminist, anti-Marxist, anti-immorality position isn’t pro-feminist, pro-Marxist, or pro-immorality; if anything, it’s less political and more theological: Jud doesn’t think Christians should fight as the world fights, but should demonstrate true transformation through the love of Christ. Whether aimed at progressive or conservative abuses of the church, I think Jud’s answer is largely accurate.

That’s not to say the film nails Christian theology and practice perfectly. I do at times quibble with what Jud says (or doesn’t say). That’s to be expected, what with the director/screenwriter being an exvangelical. And yet, where it counts most, I see genuine Christianity shining through the narrative—and it’s something I can genuinely appreciate.

On the Nose

In another interview, Johnson explains that Wake Up Dead Man takes place in a Catholic setting (instead of the Protestant environment he grew up in) so that it would give him “just a little bit of distance. I could talk more directly to it without feeling like I was being quite so on the nose.” There are, however, at least two places in the film where the proceedings are a bit on the nose. From my perspective, though, both instances are perfectly acceptable.

The first takes place in the sanctuary of Our Lady of Perpetual Fortitude. Jud asks Blanc (who has confessed to being a “proud heretic”) what it feels like to stand in a church. After a pause, Blanc says

It’s like someone has shone a story at me that I do not believe. It’s built upon the empty promise of a child’s fairy tale filled with malevolence and misogyny and homophobia and its justified untold acts of violence and cruelty while all the while, and still, hiding its own shameful acts. So like an ornery mule kicking back, I want to pick it apart and pop its perfidious bubble of belief and get to a truth I can swallow without choking.

From a visual standpoint, what’s interesting is that, as soon as Blanc begins to give his litany of complaints, the sunlight (which had previously been peeking through the stain glass windows) disappears, leaving Blanc shrouded in near darkness.

But then Father Jud answers:

It’s storytelling, you’re right. I guess the question is, do these stories convince us of a lie? Or do they resonate with something deep inside us that’s profoundly true? That we can’t express any other way… except storytelling.

As soon as Jud begins his rejoinder, the sun slowly reappears, shining brighter and brigher until Jud is bathed in a pool of light. Stylistically, the film finds Blanc’s lack of faith disturbing, while treating Jud’s faith as something illuminating. This scene is striking in its use of light and shadow.

The second on-the-nose instance happens later in the film, during a discussion between Wick and his parishioners. They have just learned about some clandestinely hypocritical actions of his, and yet their devotion to him remains unwavering. One character says, “I don’t need you to be a saint.” Another says, “We’re with you, Monsignor Wicks, and literally nothing that you say or do is gonna change that.”

McCracken has noted that these lines of dialogue echo the the sentiments of Trump-supporting evangelicals. While such sentiments may indeed reflect the rhetoric of some of Trump’s most ardent supporters, blind devotion to any leader should be critiqued and condemned, regardless of one’s political or theological leanings. This holds true whether we’re talking about real-life personalities like Donald Trump or fictional characters like Tolkien’s Denethor II.

Glass Mirror

In yet another interview, Rian Johnson said the film addresses the “us versus them” mentality that has cropped up in society in general—including in the church. In fact, he said he’s self-indicting with this movie:

I’m on my social media feed, scrolling through, getting angry at ‘Them’ with a capital T (whoever they are) during the day. The bedrock I have of the antidote to that is the well of what I grew up with, which are the teachings of Christ—the hardest thing we are called to do, which is ‘Love your enemy.’ And [it’s] the thing I feel that I personally need the most right now.

By his own admission, Johnson is looking into the glass mirror that is the word of God, and he’s both seeing and acknowledging his—and society’s—need for the solution. He’s now even made a movie as part of his attempt to share that solution with the world.

And yet, what makes a person transition from a hearer of the word to a doer of the word is not just mental assent, but a true and vibrant faith in Christ. Johnson once professed that faith, and it is my prayer that he will return to the One who is the antidote that saves us all from our neighbor-hating animosity.

In the meantime, Johnson has given us a crafty, clever, and convoluted movie that causes us to ponder some weighty topics. May we have ears to hear.

Wake Up Dead Man is rated PG-13 for, among other things, a couple instances of crude sexual dialogue.

There are plenty of books, movies, and shows that include supernatural or miraculous actions. These acts are given different names, depending on the story: “superpowers,” “glamour,” “allomancy,” “magic,” “deep magic,” and so on. Are they all equally corrupt, or equally innocent? Or is it more complicated than that?

In order to properly assess miraculous acts in fiction, we must first reckon with the existence of the miraculous in the real world. Many in our materialist culture reject the existence of spiritual beings and dimensions, and explain away supernatural occurrences as mere illusions. But the pages of Scripture give evidence to the reality of unseen realms and eternal realities.

Christians acknowledge that there are two sources of supernatural works: God and Satan. In theory, Christians should be those who are “not…outwitted by Satan” and “not ignorant of his designs” (2 Cor. 2:11). But while we’d like to think that it’s always easy for us to tell which kinds of works come from which source, that’s not always the case.

Which is why I am thankful for the recently-published book On Magic & Miracles: A Theological Guide to Discerning Fictional Magic, authored by my friend (whom I will refer to as Marian, since calling a friend by her last name would feel weird).

In the first half of her book, Marian takes a deep dive into what Scripture teaches about the miraculous, drawing a careful distinction between what she calls divine supernaturalism and demonic supernaturalism. She then explores how this distinction can help us exercise discernment when evaluating fantasy elements in the media options available to us.

If you want to get something of a sneak peek into the book, you can check out my interview with Marian for The Christian Post. She distills some of her book’s key concepts in the interview, giving potential readers a better feel for what kind of material it contains.

Christians and the Occult

A few paragraphs above, I mentioned how it’s not always easy to tell the difference between the divine and the demonic. For some, that statement might need further explanation. The most comprehensive explanation comes from Marian’s book, but I have sought to provide a truncated explanation in my newest article for The Gospel Coalition, entitled “How Should Christians Evaluate Fictional Magic?”

For our purposes here, let me share just one example that I wasn’t able to fit in my finished TGC piece. Imagine a situation where a local cult is discovered to have sacrificed some farm animals to pagan deities. If you were involved in deciding how to clean up the scene and dispose of the animals, would you consider it safe or appropriate to bring the carcasses into your own home as ingredients for future meals? If you’re anything like me, you’d be inclined to say such a course of action would “give the devil a foothold” (Eph. 4:27, NIV), and possibly even invite evil spirits into your home.

And yet Scripture tells us something quite different in 1 Corinthians 8-10. Eating animals that have been sacrificed to false gods is not dabbling in the occult; rather, it is perfectly legitimate for the Christian. Eating such food can even be considered a “right” (8:9) and a “liberty” (10:29). “Eat whatever is sold in the meat market without raising any question. . . For ‘the earth is the Lord’s, and the fullness thereof’” (10:25-26). To say otherwise is to exhibit a weak conscience (8:7).

If we bristle at the Bible’s teaching on this topic, it indicates we haven’t properly separated occultic practices from godly practices.

Satan the Copycat

As a created being, Satan is limited to imitating God’s reality: he takes what God has made and twists it for his own purposes. To modify a quote from The Screwtape Letters, all Satan can do is encourage humans to enjoy the benefits of supernatural power “at times, or in ways, or in degrees, which He [God] has forbidden.”1

Satan may disguise himself as “an angel of light” (2 Cor. 11:14), but that doesn’t mean we swear off all light. It just means we must “have [our] powers of discernment trained by constant practice to distinguish good from evil” (Heb. 5:14)—to distinguish true light from false light.

The path of such discernment may not always be easy, but the truth of Scripture is sufficient for the task.2 Toward that end, Marian’s book is a welcomed resource packed with biblical insight and practical wisdom. I highly recommend getting a copy for yourself.3

It has been nearly six years since I launched my first online class, Personal Purity Isn’t Enough. Marketed primarily to homeschool families, the course received generally positive reviews. Here are a few examples:

• “If you think you know all there is to understand or teach your children about purity and discernment, think again. This purity curriculum was extremely informative in ways I never expected.” (Courtney Messick)

• “Right in the introduction, creator Cap Stewart tells us we’re in for a paradigm shift. And he’s not kidding. As I proceeded through the course, I found myself thinking more than once, ‘I’ve never thought of that before!’” (Susan Landry)

• “[This] course goes far beyond knowing when to skip a scene or how to control lust. It’s not a replacement for or an updated version of the True Love Waits and Input, Output conversations I heard in my youth group days. It’s a completely different outlook on consuming entertainment as a Christian.” (Emily Copeland)

Alas, the class didn’t take off as I had hoped. Even so, the hosting arrangement I had with Teachable allowed me to continue offering the material to existing enrollees without virtually any ongoing fees.

Until now, that is. The platform’s terms and agreements have changed so that it is no longer financially feasible for me to continue utilizing Teachable’s services. As such, I have retired the course, effective September 1, 2025.

To be clear, I still think Teachable is a great platform, and I wouldn’t dissuade anyone from using it if they felt it was a good fit. It’s just no longer a good fit for me.

Of course, as I mentioned earlier, Personal Purity Isn’t Enough was my first online course. I published a second (shorter and simpler) course as well, initially entitled Overcoming the Lusts You (Hate to) Love. While this class has also been taken off of Teachable, it is available in a slightly different format on YouTube. The course title has been changed to The Expulsive Power of a New Affection.1

To all of you who have taken my courses and/or read my work here and abroad: thank you for your continued readership and support!

Hollywood’s history is littered with testimonies from mainstream actors (primarily women) who have shared their fear, discomfort, apprehension, and tears at having to sexually act out for the camera. I’ve spent over a decade writing about this issue.

Still, a legitimate question can be raised: what about all the positive testimonies actors have given about filming hypersexualized content? Don’t their experiences negate, or at least weaken, my point?

To answer the first part of that question, positive testimonies don’t negate my point because I’ve never claimed negative experiences are universal—merely that they are prevalent. There’s a difference between “many” and “all.” I’ve never pretended that my findings represented the experience of all thespians everywhere.

Five Good Reasons

So, if positive testimonies don’t negate my point, don’t they still weaken my point? That is the main question I have attempted to address in this series.

In short, my answer is this: “Those positive testimonies need to be taken with a large boulder of salt.” Of course, such an answer requires more explanation. And in the past few months, I’ve attempted to give five reasons as my explanation. I’ll sum them up below (each point having its own clickable link).

1. The role of conscience

For many actors, filming their first nude or sex scene is the most traumatic. As is the case with any moral compromise, the second occurrence will be a little easier—as will the third and forth times. And if you continue down the slope of compromise, you’ll eventually get to the point where you are comfortable with—and even positive about—what you once considered unacceptable. That does not negate the reality of your compromise, only your awareness of and sensitivity to it. One example of a conscience hardened over time is Margot Robbie.1

2. Hollywood flattery culture

A highly transient and competitive field like the entertainment industry encourages the use of ingratiatory behavior—that which is designed to please others and curry favor for oneself. In Hollywood, disingenuous praise (i.e., flattery) is exchanged like COVID in a mosh pit. This makes it incredibly difficult to air complaints and concerns about one’s experiences with coworkers, employers, and overall working environment.

3. Industry peer pressure

As more accolades, nominations, and awards are handed out to actors who sexualize themselves for the camera, it reinforces industry-wide hypersexualized norms that MeToo was supposed to help dismantle. If A-list actors are lauded for disrobing and sexually acting out, it sends a clear message to the tens of thousands (at least) of others in the Screen Actors Guild: “If you want to be acknowledged for your acting chops, your clothes and inhibitions need to go on the chopping block. These are the kinds of performances we regard, respect, and reward.” Thus, some of the positive testimonies of onscreen sexuality don’t represent an actor’s true sentiments, but rather a succumbing to the pressure of the status quo.

4. The context of actor interviews

Imagine an actress being questioned about the filming of a sex scene in which she felt violated by, say, the director. Imagine further that cameras are rolling while the interview is taking place—with the knowledge that hundreds or thousands or millions of people will be watching. Imagine further that the interview’s purposes is to promote a piece of work the victim is involved with, and that negative press could hurt the project’s success—and, thus, the success of everyone involved. Imagine even further that, while the recorded interview is taking place, the director is going to see the footage later—or maybe he’s even in the same room while the interview is being recorded, or participating in the interview as well. In such a situation, how likely do you think it would be for the actress to effectively and transparently and honestly communicate her experience?

5. Contradictory testimonies

With discussions on any given nude or sex scene, one participant might make it sound benign, whereas another might put the scene in a different light. One actor might use the phrase “very comfortable,” whereas his scene partner might confess to feeling “absolutely terrified.”2 Another consideration is that Hollywood stars are the main focus of actor interviews, whereas we rarely hear from background actors (who are treated with much more disrespect on set). When an actor who professes complete and total comfort with a sexualized scene they had to film for a project, remember that even if they are telling the truth, you’re only hearing a small fragment of a larger story.

The Body and Soul Keep Score

It would benefit us to end this series with one more testimony—that of Emma Stone for her sexually explicit and Oscar-winning film Poor Things. Stone had both the starring role and a producer credit, giving her a lot of creative control over the project. In fact, she has defended the film’s hypersexualized content against critiques that she was a victim of exploitation:

There’s been a lot of questions about, “Oh, this was a male writer and a male director, the male gaze in this situation – how does that feel?” I think it takes away my agency here. . . [b]ecause I am a producer. This is the story that we wanted to tell in the way we wanted to tell it.

In an interview with NPR, Stone’s testimony about the film’s nude and sex scenes is definitely positive:

Having [intimacy coordinator Elle McAlpine] there felt like having both a safety net and a choreographer and a handhold. . . . And it was just this really beautiful relationship that I found extremely, extremely meaningful.

And yet, in that same interview, Stone also had this to say:

I remember reading something once, that an actor on stage doing a very dramatic scene, and having meltdowns and doing monologues for 90 minutes a night just in theater, your body feels like it’s the equivalent of going through something like a car crash, because your heart is racing, you’re having these big physical reactions to these emotions that you’re kind of asking yourself to go through. And I think even when you know you’re acting, when you know none of this is real, there’s no real sex happening, this is all choreographed ... you sometimes underestimate what your body is going through separately.

Note, she’s not talking about sex scenes filmed twenty years ago, with slimy producers salivating over their monitors. She’s talking about sex scenes in the MeToo era, with the involvement of intimacy coordinators to make sure everything is handled professionally.

As a society, we have tried to parcel out the various stages and acts of the sexual response cycle, as if we can isolate and desexualize some of them. For example, we act like libidinous kissing and amorous groping of private parts can be dissected from their sexual context, as long as it’s “just acting.” But as much as we tell ourselves these things, deep down in our hearts and souls—and our bodies—we know better.3

Stone’s testimony is telling: it is a tacit acknowledgement that certain actions are inherently and intrinsically sexual, no matter how elaborately you choregraph them and seek to distance your mind from what your body is doing. We have underestimated the human psyche’s resilient dedication to honestly respond to sexual acts because of their inherently sexual nature. What God has joined together, we cannot separate.4

We Can’t Handle the Truth

Considering all we have seen in this series—starting with Keira Knightley’s testimony, working our way through five considerations, and ending with Emma Stone’s statements above—it seems safe to say that many of the positive testimonies of onscreen sexuality represent a sort of Jedi mind trick, a form of perpetual self-deception, a denial and rejection of reality.5

Sex acts taken outside the context and covenant of marriage represent a violation of how human relationships—and human bodies—were designed to work. These violations do violence to the human soul, whether that violence is felt or not, whether it is acknowledged or not. As a writer friend of mine once put it, “naked bodies grinding on each other pretending to have intercourse crosses a line — both for the viewer and the actors.”

Actors can put a positive spin on it all they want. They can tell themselves a lie often enough that they believe it. But the truth is still the truth. And no amount of positive affirmations to the contrary will change that.

Previous entry: “Actor Experiences: When the Stories Don’t Line Up”

When it comes to a collective experience, not all participants have the same perspective. As Proverbs 18:17 says, “The one who states his case first seems right, until the other comes and examines him.” Similarly, with discussions on any given nude or sex scene, one sound bite might make it sound benign, whereas another sound bite might put the scene in a different light.

In this series on positive testimonies about onscreen sexuality, we come to the fifth and final factor to examine: contradictory testimonies.

Rainy Days and Actor Tears

Consider the testimony of actor Jonathan Rhys Meyers. When asked if it was getting easier for him to film sex scenes on camera, he answered like this: “It was never tough from the beginning. . . . I’m always very comfortable. There are worse things you could do with yourself on a rainy day in Dublin than hop into bed with a beautiful actress.” For Meyers, filming sex scenes has been comfortable—even pleasant—from the start.

Compare that with the perspective of actress Ruta Gedmintas. Her first sex scene was filmed with Jonathan Rhys Meyers,1 and her experience was far from comfortable: “I was absolutely terrified and had no idea what was going on. . . . I cried afterwards because I was thinking, ‘This isn’t acting, what am I doing? My mum’s going to see this.’”2

Note how the experience broke Gedmintas down emotionally—so much, in fact, that she felt like she had left the realm of professional acting altogether. The vulnerable and compromising scene she had to film led to fear, tears, and shame. That’s a far cry from “comfortable.”

Now, some might argue that this example (from 2006) isn’t relevant because of the changes made in the entertainment industry since that time. My point here, though, isn’t that the Hollywood of today is the exact same as it was 19 years ago. Rather, my point is simply that there can be a disparity of opinion on how comfortable—or horrible—a particular experience has been. Just one person sharing a positive testimony doesn’t mean everyone had the same experience. Just because one actor didn’t feel violated doesn’t mean the other actor (or actors) didn’t.

Night from Day

Let’s consider another example: a segment on The Graham Norton Show with Ben Affleck and Sienna Miller. In it, Norton asks about the numerous sex scenes for their movie Live By Night (which Affleck wrote, directed, and starred in). Affleck responds, “Why else get into directing?” while Miller laughs beside him.

Affleck talks about how he wanted to do several takes of a particular sex scene without yelling “Cut” and “Action” between each take, but he didn’t make that clear to Miller. After doing several takes in a row, he says Miller finally “just started laughing—like ‘Who do you think you are?’” The conversation is nothing if not uproarious, and it gives the impression that the experience of filming the movie’s sex scenes was equally humorous.

However, in a separate interview with E! News (where Affleck was not present), Sienna Miller shares a different side to the story.

She talks about how the film’s collage of sexual escapades required “an entire day of just love scenes.” Miller confesses, “Obviously, by the time nine hours of it has gone past, I was shaking with tears running down my face.”

Miller tries placing the blame for the emotional breakdown on herself: “[Ben’s] very professional—I am not, but he is.” She tries downplaying it by saying things like, “there was no awkwardness,” and “you have to laugh,” and “[i]t is what it is.”

She even tries putting a positive spin on it, saying “It’s hysterical,” and “There will be some outtakes from that where I have to walk out of the room because I just have tears running down my face.” But crying, shaking, and having to leave the set in distress is a sign of sexual violation, not sexual hilarity.

The separate testimonies of Ben Affleck and Sienna Miller reveal radically different experiences. The first was positive and funny. The second, while giving a veneer of positivity, turned out to be tragic and heartbreaking.

An Extra Consideration

In this series, we’ve been looking at the testimonies of movie stars—those whose names take top billing on the posters and other promotional materials for the films they star in. Most movies, however, employ the services of dozens, if not hundreds, of other actors, including supporting and background actors. Their well-being is also important, but how they experience onset treatment is rarely, if ever, considered.

A Hollywood star might say she was treated with respect while filming a hypersexualized scene, but what about background actors who had to film similar content? Their dignity and humanity should matter just as much as anyone else’s. And yet, as Acting Magazine notes, because extras are “much more expendable” than main actors, “they tend to get treated like barnyard animals. . . . Some industry professionals are so disrespectful toward background actors that they label extras, ‘props that eat’.”

This issue was addressed in regards to the 2024 film Anora, which graphically portrays the goings-on at a strip club. Public press about the film’s hypersexualized content has focused almost exclusively on the film’s stars, as noted in an article by Variety:

“We’re really only hearing from the two lead actors, the director and the producer,” points out Lauren Kiele DeLeon, an intimacy coordinator. . . . “We’re hearing from the people who have the most power on this set, but they can’t speak for how every extra felt on the film.”

Indeed, the world of “Anora” is populated with many background actors who were tasked with sensitive material. The film’s early scenes take place in the strip club where Ani works; before she and Vanya ever have sex, several unnnamed women are seen giving lap dances to several unnamed men. Despite not having lines, each of those performers would have had a chance to talk through what kinds of costumes and contact they were comfortable with an intimacy coordinator if one had been present, Liroff says. . . .

An A-list actor can’t speak for everyone on set. And we will likely never know whether the background actors in Anora felt the same sense of comfort and security experienced by Mikey Madison (the Oscar-winning star of the film).

So the next time you watch or read an interview with an actor who professes complete and total comfort with a sexualized scene they had to film for a project, remember this: even if they are telling the truth, just know that you’re only hearing a small fragment of a larger story.

Previous entry: “Actors and Press Tours: A Perilous Tightrope”

Next entry: “What You See is Not Always What You Get”

Historically, my opinion of faith-based filmmaking has been far from flattering. To quote myself from a few years ago,

If I had to summarize the typical faith-based film in one word, it would be “shamefully, embarrassingly subpar.” Okay, so that’s technically three words.

Here’s the deal. As a Christian who loves visual stories, I am, more often than not, ashamed and embarrassed by the lack of creativity displayed by those who claim adherence to (and often inspiration from) the original Creator.

I have bemoaned the bastardization of Christian filmmaking. I have critiqued the bait-and-switch tendencies of Christian creatives. I have highlighted the need for faith-based filmmaking to experience a radical shift. Some might be tempted to call me Mr. Grumpy Gills.

That’s why it’s always a joy to discover a faith-based project that demonstrates creative and artistic excellence, worthy of praise and promotion. And in Amazon’s new television series, The House of David, I have discovered such a project:

House of David’s large budget and high production values are evident even in the trailers. There is genuine talent behind and in front of the camera. Everything from script to sets to cinematography demonstrates a strong commitment to artistic excellence. Even elements like sound design and fight choreography are impressively proficient.

You can read my entire review of the show at Christ and Pop Culture.

In other television-related news, I contributed to Christ and Pop Culture’s recent article “Favorite TV of 2024” with a short review of another Amazon Prime streaming series:

Amazon’s The Rings of Power came into the world with an Oliphaunt-sized amount of controversy—and not entirely without reason. The show’s first season provided a mixed bag of entertaining spectacle and strong production values alongside frustrating deviations from Tolkien canon. What was supposed to be a climactic revelation in Season One (“Sometimes to find the light, we must first touch the darkness”) turned out to be a head-scratching anomaly, like seeing a meme that drastically misquotes an historic personality. At the end of the season, hope for a rousing Middle-Earth adventure seemed to fade.

But we were, all of us, deceived, for a second season was made.

You can read the entire review here.

Although it’s not been used often in news and puff & glamor pieces, there’s a specific term for when an actor (whether male or female) is pressured to participate in onscreen sexually charged activity they find emotionally or morally oppressive. What is that term?

Sexual harassment.

RAINN (Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network) says sexual harassment can include “unwelcome sexual advances, [and] requests for sexual favors.” According to the law firm Sidney L. Gold and Associates, sexual harassment can occur through “offensive touching, [and] discussions of intimacy that make others uncomfortable,” as well as instances where an employer makes “submission to the unwanted behavior [necessary] to advance in the workplace.”

Testimonies are legion of actors (particularly women) being pressured to participate in unwanted sexualized scenarios, whether on a film set or for marketing purposes. These scenarios involve gratuitous nudity, offensive physical touching, and uncomfortable scenes of intimacy. Submission to such demands has often carried with it the threat of a tarnished—or even ruined—career, such as “You’ll never work in this town again.”

In this blog series, we’ve been making our way through five relevant factors in the discussion of onscreen sexuality:

1. The role of conscience

2. Hollywood flattery culture

3. Industry peer pressure

4. The context of actor interviews

5. Contradictory testimonies

Last time, we looked at factor #3: the industry-wide pressure placed on actors—especially women—to sexualize themselves for the camera. Now, it would behoove us to examine sexualized nudity and other scenes of intimacy within the context of sexual harassment. At first glance, this may not appear related to the fourth factor above—the context of actor interviews—but bear with me.

Hindrances to Proper Reporting

Victims of sexual harassment aren’t chomping at the bit to share their experiences—not with coworkers, friends, or family members, to say nothing of the public at large. It is estimated that nearly 75% of sexual harassment incidents go unreported. And a 2023 survey of the entertainment industry revealed that sexual harassment in Hollywood remains pervasive. Even so, lawsuits based on alleged sexual misconduct onset are the exception, not the norm.

With any case of sexual harassment, whether in Hollywood or some other work environment, the shame associated with the experience isn’t something a victim wishes to exacerbate, perpetuate, or prolong. And yet sharing their experience with a third party feels like a path that would do just that. There are at least two roadblocks that make victims of sexual harassment hesitant to report offenses against them.

The first is a lack of privacy. While absolute privacy is impossible1, confidentiality is a necessary component for any victim to feel safe enough to share their grievances. According to the book Sexual Harassment in the Workplace, it is critical for anyone inquiring about a particular incident “make sure that facts and opinions are discussed only with those persons who must be involved in the investigation itself, or in deciding its outcome.”2

Similarly, the book What Every Manager Needs to Know About Sexual Harassment states victims must be assured that “[their] complaint will remain confidential to the greatest extent possible and will be disclosed only when necessary to follow up and correct any misconduct.”3 If confidentiality cannot be guaranteed at some level, the chance of getting a fully truthful testimony is slim.

The second roadblock for victims of sexual harassment is something we mentioned earlier: the prospect of retribution by the offending party—something that could seriously and/or permanently damage their career. “While absolute confidentiality cannot and should not be promised…a pledge of nonretaliation can and should be made.”4 In cases of workplace harassment, it is imperative for the one asking questions about the incident to “assure the employee that he or she will never suffer any reprisals as a result of the complaint.”5 Otherwise, it will be difficult to acquire an honest testimony from the victim.

It’s All About Context

With that groundwork laid, consider the context of an actor interview. Is it a private affair that will only reach the ears of those who are positioned to help solve the problem (if there truly is a problem)? The answer, of course, is no.

What about the prospect of retribution? Does an actor interview eliminate—or, at the very least, limit—the exposure of her grievances so that offending parties won’t have motivation to badger or blacklist her later? Again, the answer is a resounding no.

Practically every aspect of an actor interview with the press is diametrically opposed to providing the confidentiality and safety needed for a victim of sexual harassment.

Imagine, for example, an actress being questioned about the filming of a sex scene in which she felt violated. How would she be likely to respond in such a situation, where confidentiality was not only not assured, but intrinsically denied? Imagine further that cameras are rolling while the interview is taking place—with the knowledge that hundreds or thousands or millions of people will be watching. Imagine further that the interview’s purposes is to promote a piece of work the victim is involved with, and that negative press could hurt the project’s success—and, thus, the success of everyone involved. Imagine even further that, while the recorded interview is taking place, the perpetrator is going to see the footage later—or maybe he’s even in the same room while the interview is being recorded, or participating in the interview as well.6

In such a situation, how likely do you think it would be for the victim to effectively and transparently and honestly communicate her experience? What’s more likely is that she would gloss over the offense—and maybe even profess that everyone involved acted professionally and everything went swimmingly well.

Generally speaking, the entire context of actor interviews is designed to promote positive experiences about whatever project they’re currently involved with. Anything less than that is a detriment to an actor’s career and relational safety.

The bottom line is this: if a form of sexual harassment has taken place while filming a particular movie, a public press tour is one of the last places on earth where we’re going to hear the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

Note: the image at the beginning of this post is of a general press tour, for illustrative purposes only, and is not intended to insinuate that the interviewees depicted are victims or perpetrators of sexual harassment

Previous entry: “The Massive Weight of Industry Pressure”

Next entry: “Actor Experiences: When the Stories Don't Line Up”

After the Oscar nominations are announced each year, there’s always a discussion about who got snubbed. I’m going to submit my own suggestion for the 97^th Oscars: even though Conclave is one of the top five most-nominated films of 2024, it was robbed in one category in particular: cinematography. From beginning to end, the movie is gorgeous to look at. Every frame is a delight to behold. Why the movie wasn’t nominated in this category is beyond me.

Conclave has strong talent both behind and in front of the camera. Above and beyond that, I personally enjoyed the movie (for the most part). Even with its slow, deliberate pace, I found myself riveted as the plot introduced one complication after another. When I checked the time elapsed and discovered we were already 40 minutes in, I felt like it had only been 20 (at most).

There are, however, some serious problems with the movie. For our purposes, I wish to zero in on one flaw in particular—a theological one.

Certainty vs. Doubt

As the conclave begins, the main protagonist, Cardinal Thomas Lawrence (Ralph Fiennes), who himself is experiencing a crisis of faith, gives a homily to the assembled cardinals. The last part of his speech goes like this:

In the course of a long life in the service of our Mother the Church, let me tell you that there is one sin I have come to fear above all others. Certainty. Certainty is the great enemy of unity. Certainty is the deadly enemy of tolerance. . . . Our faith is a living thing precisely because it walks hand in hand with doubt. If there was only certainty, and if there was no doubt, there would be no mystery, and therefore no need for faith. Let us pray that God will grant us a Pope who doubts. Let Him grant us a Pope who sins and asks for forgiveness. And carries on.

Not everything Lawrence says here is wrong. For instance, his closing line about the church needing a leader who doesn’t pretend he’s above sinning—but who rather seeks forgiveness when he sins and moves on—is absolutely true. In fact, it reminds me of a quote from Martin Luther:

God does not save those who are only imaginary sinners. Be a sinner, and let your sins be strong [or sin boldly], but let your trust in Christ be stronger, and rejoice in Christ who is the victor over sin, death, and the world.

The grave error Lawrence makes (and which the movie itself makes as a whole) is treating certainty as the church’s enemy and doubt as its ally. The former, Lawrence says, should be rejected, and the latter embraced. Certainty is a sickness and doubt is the cure.

It is true that a Christian’s posture toward one who doubts should not be judgmental and condemning, but patient and gentle: “And have mercy on those who doubt” (Jude 1:22). As Paul wrote, “And we urge you, brothers…encourage the fainthearted, help the weak, be patient with them all” (1 Thess. 5:14). God’s posture toward those weak in faith is not to beat them over the head, but rather to quiet and encourage them with his love.

As others have noted, “Rather than welcome those with questions, the church sometimes ostracizes them for fear that such mindsets will spread—an act that ironically keeps people away from the very community that they may need.”

Yes and amen. There is a big difference, however, between showing mercy to the doubtful and valorizing doubt. Biblical authorities like Paul and James—and Jesus himself—view doubt as a vice, not a virtue (Rom. 14:23; Jas. 1:6; Luke 24:38; John 20:27).

The Scriptural maxim is not, “The righteous shall live by doubt,” but rather, “The righteous shall live by faith” (Rom. 1:17; Gal. 3:11; Heb. 10:38). And contrary to what Lawrence says in his homily, faith intrinsically involves certainty: “Now faith is the certainty of things hoped for, a proof of things not seen” (Heb. 11:1, NASB).1

Misplaced Humility

Pope Francis once made this statement: “The great leaders of the people of God, like Moses, have always left room for doubt. You must leave room for the Lord, not for our certainties; we must be humble.”

Like Lawrence’s speech in Conclave, Francis’ statement is a mixed bag of truth and error. The call for humility is legitimate; after all, no human being is omniscient. Humility, however, isn’t ultimately revealed through doubt, but through certainty. G. K. Chesterton explains:

[W]hat we suffer from today is humility in the wrong place. Modesty has moved from the organ of ambition. Modesty has settled upon the organ of conviction; where it was never meant to be. A man was meant to be doubtful about himself, but undoubting about the truth; this has been exactly reversed. Nowadays the part of a man that a man does assert is exactly the part he ought not to assert—himself. The part he doubts is exactly the part he ought not to doubt—the Divine Reason.

Doubt has become something of a sacred cow in our society because it has moved from an inward posture (legitimately questioning our own ambitions) to an outward posture (illegitimately questioning absolute truth). Such doubt allows us to give a show of humility while still clinging to our own finite (and often prideful) perspectives. Doubt in ambition has shifted to doubt in conviction—and it works against the very humility we say we aspire to.

Certainty Dressed as Doubt

Valorizing doubt is selective (at best) and two-faced (at worst). It is selective in that none of us truly believes that doubt and uncertainty should be the default position to life in general. My friend Steven D. Greydanus, a film critic and Catholic Deacon, makes this astute observation:

[F]ew of us go through the day troubled by radical skepticism about the world as it presents itself to our senses and our intellect. We don’t open our eyes in the morning and wonder, “Am I really opening my eyes, or is a computer telling my brain that I’m opening my eyes?” We don’t look into the eyes of our family members or friends or strangers on the street and second-guess their personhood, or think about what happened yesterday and wonder if those memories are artificial. Rightly so! We couldn’t live our lives if we allowed ourselves to be paralyzed by uncertainty over whether anything we sense or remember is real.

Functionally speaking, most people don’t valorize doubt in the abstract. The only doubt they truly champion is doubt about that which they already disagree. That’s just certainty in doubt’s clothing, pride masquerading as humility. And it is these deceptive vestments which Conclave wears, as noted by film critic Joseph Holmes:

The film never has a moment’s doubt that the “liberal” Catholics who want to loosen rules around women’s roles and homosexuality are the good guys and that the conservative Catholics if given the chance would hurl the church back to “the stone age.” . . .

The film portrays liberal Catholics as bad only when they violate their standards (such as engaging in bribery), yet conservative Catholics are consistently portrayed as bad when they stand up for theirs.

This lets the air out of much of the story’s drama. Because the film never shows the “conservative” side, those struggling to retain the old ways, as being sympathetic in any way, we never get to see Lawrence struggle with the rightness of his own position. Ironically, he never doubts himself.

It is indeed ironic. Clinging to one’s doubts, in the words of the late Tim Keller, means failing to “discern the alternate belief under each of your doubts and then to ask yourself what reasons you have for believing it. . . . In fairness you must doubt your doubts.”2

A Captivating Pity

The film’s promotion of doubt is, as I said, only one of its flaws. For all of its suspenseful buildup, the third act releases the tension rather blandly. And a final revelation at the story’s closing reminded me a bit of God’s Not Dead—something dramatic happens at the very end, designed to be a mic drop moment, when in actuality it’s a cheap trick that fails to stand under any kind of scrutiny. Even avowed agnostic film critic James Berardinelli calls it “far-fetched and even a little silly.”

All that being the case, why did I enjoy Conclave so much? Probably because I familiarized myself with some spoilers beforehand. Otherwise, I likely would have been shocked and offended in the moment. As it was, and similar to Darren Aronofsky’s Noah (which I researched heavily before watching), I was able to enjoy the proceedings without being blindsided. In fact, I enjoyed the movie so much that I plan on a repeat viewing.

Still, as captivating a piece of cinema as Conclave is, it’s a pity the film stumbles so egregiously as a piece of cultural and religious commentary. It refuses to treat doubt as a moral weakness worthy of gentle and compassionate care, and instead validates it as a cardinal virtue worthy of esteem and accolades. The former would have been truly Christlike; the latter is…well, more like a certain Edenic serpent.

This is an updated version of an article originally published for The Christian Post.

Actors being sexualized for audiences isn’t exactly a new trend in Hollywood. In fact, it’s been a component of the world of film almost since its inception. One factor that seems to be more prevalent in the recent past, though, is the critical and institutional praise heaped on actors—women in particular—for sexualizing themselves.

In an ironic post-MeToo twist, actors are receiving more commendation for succumbing to the demands of our pornified culture. This lends a greater sense of legitimacy to acting roles that would have, at one time, been considered less glamourous and more degrading.

A few examples are in order. Let’s look at three films, one each from the previous three years.

Emma Thompson, Good Luck to You, Leo Grande (2022)

In this film, Emma Thompson plays a retired teacher who decides to employ the services of a young male prostitute. Film critic James Berardinelli writes that the actress “sheds her pretentions along with her inhibitions”:

The decision to bare all was Thompson’s – she could have done the scenes clothed or with more of a peek-a-boo approach – and, although she admits to having been nervous and uncomfortable, it never shows. Calling her performance “brave” feels condescending, but this is an example of an actress showing a willingness to do what she believes is necessary for the role (rather than something contractually mandated).

Thompson’s performance in the film was heralded as “impressive,” “amazing,” “glorious,” “moving,” “fearlessly raw,” “extraordinary,” and “better than ever.”

Good Luck to You, Leo Grande received over 30 award nominations from various institutions, including several for Emma Thompson: Best Leading Actress (BAFTA Awards), Best Performance by an Actress in a Musical or Comedy (Golden Globes), Most Daring Performance (Alliance of Women Film Journalists)—and even Best Female Orgasm (Girls on Film Awards).1

Emma Stone, Poor Things (2023)

As a female version of Frankenstein’s monster, this movie follows the emotional—and sexual—development of a suicide victim named Bella (Emma Stone) who is reanimated with the consciousness of an unborn child. The film explores Bella’s sexual exploits with explicit and gratuitous abandon.

To quote Berardinelli again, Stone’s nudity in the film went “well beyond what we normally see from mainstream actresses, not to mention those ensconced on Hollywood’s A-list.” Similarly, Christian critic Paul Asay claimed the movie might have had “the most skin in any film I’ve ever reviewed.”

I’ve noted previously,

[S]ources like Observer, National Review, and actor Mark Ruffalo [who plays one of Bella’s lovers] have compared the film to pornography. Even IndieWire, while denying the pornographic nature of the film, ponders how “this brazenly sex-crazed movie” escaped an NC-17 rating.

Stone’s pornographic performance was nevertheless praised by critics as “fearless,” “magnetic,” “remarkable,” “uninhibited,” “absolutely tremendous,” “extraordinary,” and “courageous.”

Poor Things received over 400 award nominations from various institutions, including several for Emma Stone: Best Leading Actress (BAFTA Awards), Outstanding Performance (Screen Actors Guild), Best Performance by an Actress (Academy Awards)—and Female Orgasm Award (Girls on Film Awards).

Mikey Madison, Anora (2024)

The protagonist of this film is a stripper named Ani (Mikey Madison) who accepts a marriage proposal from one of her clients in what turns out not to be the whirlwind romance she’s hoping for. Madison is “unashamedly naked throughout the first 45 minutes” of the film, which consist primarily of “nonstop party and sex scenes.”

In an article for Variety, Madison explains how she prepared for the role: “I did quite a bit of pole training. I did this stripper boot camp where I was taught how to give lap dances, how to twerk.” Her training on how to sexualize oneself for clients ended up making all her hypersexualized scenes in the movie feel “normal”:

“Those scenes were fun to shoot and all of the lap dance scenes were very fun to shoot as well because the environment on set was very comfortable,” Madison continued. “After a little bit, I was almost too comfortable in those situations, especially walking around the club. All the women are naked, and I was too, and it was normal.”

Madison’s performance in Anora has been lauded as “electrifying,” “fearless,”2 “irresistible,” “extraordinary,” “mesmerizing,” “star-making,” and “[a] tour de force.”

Anora has received over 200 award nominations, including many for Mikey Madison: Best Actress (Critics Choice Awards), Breakthrough Performance (Toronto Film Critics Association Awards), Best Actress (Academy Awards), and Best Performance by an Actress in a Musical or Comedy (Golden Globes).

A Trio of Caveats

For clarity’s sake, there are three points I am not attempting to make here. First, I’m not saying these actresses lacked any thespian skills in the films above. For the purposes of this piece, their acting abilities are ultimately beside the point, seeing as how their performances were inextricably linked to sexual objectification.

Second, I am not attempting to show that these actresses faced pressure to expose themselves for the camera. In the first two examples especially, that appears to decidedly not be the case.3 They all give the appearance of accepting—and even embracing—the requirements of their respective projects.

Third, my point isn’t even that our pornified culture is making performances like these normal and acceptable. That’s a legitimate point—one I’ve made numerous times over the years. But it’s tangential to the point of this piece in particular.

With Great Praise Comes Great Pressure

What, then, is my point? That these three examples (and others like them) are contributing to the pressure placed on all actors—particularly women—who may have reservations about sexual objectification being a necessary part of their job description. If the entertainment industry is a highly competitive field (as I argued last time), and if actresses wish for any decent level of success in Hollywood, any resistance to self-objectification will be considered a liability and a detriment.

As more accolades, nominations, and awards are handed out to women who sexualize themselves for the camera, it reinforces industry-wide hypersexualized norms that MeToo was supposed to help dismantle. If Thompson and Stone and Madison are lauded for disrobing and sexually acting out, it sends a clear message to the tens of thousands (at least) of other actresses in the Screen Actors Guild: “If you want to be acknowledged for your acting chops, your clothes and inhibitions need to go on the chopping block. These are the kinds of performances we regard, respect, and reward.”

I’m reminded of a quote from the ScholarDay blog about Margot Robbie’s rise to fame as a result of her hypersexualized role in The Wolf of Wall Street:

What also makes Robbie’s story so tragic is how interviews and glossy mags talk about her decision to grin and bare it all as if it was the best decision she made in her career. . . . If young, aspiring actors see over and over again stories spun in this way, then it will always be the status quo.

To quote another writer, “Status quo is the pressure to keep things the way they are.” There is a torrential river of pressure placed on actresses to “grin and bare it all.” It would make sense, then, that at least some of those grins—some of the positive testimonies of onscreen sexuality—don’t represent the actor’s true sentiments, but rather their succumbing to the pressure of the status quo.

UPDATE (1/23/25): The stats for Anora have been revised, now that the Oscar nominations have been announced.

Previous entry: “Hollywood Flattery Culture Cloaks Reality”

Next entry: “Actors and Press Tours: A Perilous Tightrope”

One annual tradition I have is compiling a list of my favorite musical scores from the year. Most of the scores I listen to are from films and shows I haven’t seen, and 2024 was no exception. Of the list below, I’ve only actually watched one selection thus far (entry #1).

What follows are my favorite film and television scores of 2024, in reverse order. Because I had trouble coming up with ten scores that really stood out to me, this is a Top Five list. For your listening pleasure, I have linked to each album so you can enjoy them as well.

5. IF (Michael Giacchino)

Some consider music like this to be saccharine—i.e., excessively sweet and sentimental. I find the sentimentality of this score delightful, not excessive (or anything else pejorative). When done well, film scores that wear their emotions on their sleeves are a balm to the soul, and Giacchino delivers such a balm with his wonderful composition for this movie.

4. Ronja the Robber’s Daughter (Johan Söderqvist)

This Swedish TV series has an engaging score with wonderful themes and instrumentations. I need to research this show more to see if it would be worth watching. Hat tip to my friend Jon Broxton for making me aware of this musical gem.

3. Here (Alan Silvestri)

Alan Silvestri has composed some excellent scores for director Robert Zemeckis, and we can now add Here to that list. This film has been compared to Forrest Gump (in that it reunites the main creative team behind that earlier movie), and the music warrants comparison as well. While not quite matching the melodic brilliance of Forrest Gump’s score, Silvestri’s music for Here is close enough to make it a wonderful listen. Sure, detractors will call it hopelessly sentimental and emotionally manipulative, but, like the IF score above, I find such music a delight.

2. Young Woman and the Sea (Amelia Warner)

As much as I enjoy the music from the previous three entries, there are really only two film/TV scores that knocked my socks off in 2024, and this is one of them. Young Woman and the Sea takes the word “inspiration” and distills it into musical form with such robust enthusiasm that I am tempted to compare it to Jerry Goldsmith’s score to Rudy. Like Goldsmith before her, Warner uses just two main themes to pad out the score’s running time, and those themes—including a simple-yet-effective power anthem—provide a wonderful listening experience. At one time, this score was a real contender for the number 1 slot. But even “only” at number 2, it is an album I return to again and again for the sheer amount and scale of listening pleasure it provides.

1. The Rings of Power: Season 2 (Bear McCreary)

Whatever criticisms can be made (and some of them are legit) about the Rings of Power TV series, the musical score is above reproach. Composer McCreary admirably meets the bar set by Howard Shore for the Peter Jackson films.

The first two seasons of this show include no fewer than 24 distinct themes for various characters, races, and locations, each of which carries a distinct musical style. My friend Jon Broxton goes so far as to say McCreary has composed “one of the greatest scores in the history of television”—and I am inclined to agree.1

Just one example of the musical genius of McCreary’s work on this series is the thematic palette from which he crafted Sauron’s musical signature. If you don’t care about spoilers, you can watch this short video essay explaining just what McCreary did with the character of Sauron.

At one point, I was tempted to make this post a Top Eight list, and give one spot to each of the eight episodes of Season 2 from The Rings of Power. Yes, it is a multilayered masterpiece that warrants all the praise I can heap on it. And if you want do delve into this music like a good dwarf (“too greedily and too deep”), here are the links to each episode’s album:

• Episode 1: “Elven Kings Under the Sky”

• Episode 2: “Where the Stars are Strange”

• Episode 3: “The Eagle and the Sceptre”

• Episode 4: “Eldest”

• Episode 5: “Halls of Stone”

• Episode 6: “Where Is He?”

• Episode 7: “Doomed to Die”

• Episode 8: “Shadow and Flame”

Over the years, I have spilled a significant amount of digital ink on actors’ negative experiences filming nude and sex scenes. Even so, I’ve acknowledged that not all actors have the same perspective:

In reality, it is true that not every actor experiences shock or shame when faced with nude/sex scenes. These experiences, while not universal, are prevalent. That has been my point. . . .

Not every actor feels violated by these situations, but a significant amount of them do. There’s a difference between all and many. In focusing on the experiences of the many, I do not mean to imply that it is the experience of everyone.

Even though they haven’t been historically prevalent, there are positive actor testimonies out there. For example, Shailene Woodley says she loved filming her first sex scene, saying “It’s my favorite scene in the whole movie!” Some actors may even say things like, “I love sex scenes,” or, “A lot of my costars have been sexy guys my age who are really respectful and cool.” In reference to filming a particular scene of intimacy, actors might even use descriptions like “so lucky,” or “a privilege,” or “liberating.”

How do we rightly handle testimonies like these? This particular blog series is my attempt to answer that question. And such an answer requires examining at least five relevant factors:

1. The role of conscience

2. Hollywood flattery culture

3. Industry peer pressure

4. The context of actor interviews

5. Contradictory testimonies

Last time, we looked at the first reason. Today, we’ll look at the second: Hollywood’s flattery culture.

When Flattery Flourishes, Honesty Atrophies

The entertainment industry is highly competitive. The Harvard Business Review points out how domains like Hollywood, Washington, and Silicon Valley involve “lots of extremely smart and ambitious individuals vying for just a few top slots.” As participants work their way up the totem pole, “the margin for error is much smaller, and the competition intensifies. This winnowing process means just a handful of people will attain prominence or success.”

This atmosphere affects how people work together, according to The Hollywood Reporter:

In other industries, the workplace is often a communal hub. In Hollywood, it’s too frequently the core of a maelstrom that pits one individual against another. . . . Transience is the very essence of the entertainment business, unpredictability its warp and weft.”

As one might suspect, such working conditions affect how friendships play out. The article continues:

A friend in Hollywood is an ally, a fellow traveler, someone who doesn’t pose a threat, at least not an immediate one, though that can change in the blink of an eye.

In this transient and unpredictable climate, actors must do their best to both advance their own careers while at the same time avoiding the appearance (if not the reality) of tearing down someone else’s. This leads to what is called “ingratiatory behavior”—that is, behavior designed to please others and curry favor for oneself. A biblical term would be “people-pleasers” (Eph. 6:6; Col. 3:22).1

As Los Angeles Times columnist Robin Abcarian once noted, Hollywood is one of the centers of ingratiatory behavior, “where flattery is not only the coin of the realm, but even when it’s an obvious counterfeit, is still valuable to the recipient.” Flattery is exchanged like money in the relational economy of Hollywood. And while flattery may sometimes include shades of truth, its existence doesn’t tend to foster a sense of transparency and honesty.

This is not to say every word of praise between Hollywood persons is patently false. There are, to be sure, numerous actors who praise their coworkers for genuine reasons. Common grace exists in every sphere of life, and even in a cutthroat environment it is possible to find something praiseworthy about practically anyone. Besides, there is wisdom in the saying, “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.”

There is, no doubt, genuine praise dished out in the entertainment industry. It’s just mixed in with a heaping does of disingenuous praise as well. And that makes untangling the two rather difficult.

With Friends Like These, Who Risks Honesty?

The point is not that positive testimonies of onscreen sexuality should automatically be rejected as falsehoods. Rather, the point is that the social and relational climate of Hollywood makes it incredibly difficult to air complaints and concerns about one’s coworkers, employers, and overall working environment. Burning bridges is the last thing an actor wants to do. The best way to keep one’s options open is to keep one’s mouth shut—when it comes to criticism, that is.2

So when an actress demonstrates a nonchalant—or outright positive—attitude toward filming hypersexualized content, she may be telling the whole truth.3 With Hollywood being what it is, however, at least some of those positive testimonies aren’t going to be entirely—or even remotely—genuine.

On the flip side, when an actress shares distress over performing scenes of sexuality, it may not automatically make her more trustworthy, but it does give a ring of authenticity. She’s not just going with the flow. She’s not just trying to bolster her career. She’s not bending over backwards to keep from rocking the boat.

The bottom line is this: not everyone who says they’re fine shooting hypersexualized scenes is being honest. In a world where flattery reigns supreme, honesty may feel like the worst policy.

Previous entry: “Margot Robbie and the Slippery Slope of Moral Compromise”

Next entry: “The Massive Weight of Industry Pressure”

Historically, the most common actor testimony regarding onscreen sexuality is one of awkwardness (at best). Still, some seem to have a more positive experience. In my last post, we examined one such testimony—that of Keira Knightley. However, the description she gives of her privileged position in the industry, and her favorite sex scene in particular, highlight that even positive testimonies can be laced with negative sentiments.

To continue this series, we’ll look at more positive testimonies regarding the filming of sexualized content. And in so doing, we’ll discover that the subtext of many of these experiences is not always as positive as it may appear.

Properly evaluating positive actor testimonies requires a recognition of at least five relevant factors:

1. The role of conscience

2. Hollywood flattery culture

3. Industry peer pressure

4. The context of actor interviews

5. Contradictory testimonies

I will be writing one post for each of the above five factors. So, without further ado, let’s look at factor #1.

A Calloused Conscience

As evidenced by my past research and writings, many of the worst horror stories are from those filming nude or sex scenes for the first time. This inaugural experience is often the most traumatic. And as is the case with any moral compromises, the second time will, to some degree, be a little easier. The more you compromise, the less traumatic the compromise feels.

Margot Robbie is a good example of this compromise. Consider her role in the 2022 film Babylon, which graphically shows the depraved lifestyles of early Hollywood filmmakers. It begins with an extended sequence at a Bacchanalian party that involves plenty of immoral activity. Robbie’s character, Nellie LaRoy, becomes the life of the party by “commanding the dance floor like the uninhibited embodiment of sex” (to quote Daily Beast’s review). The film’s editor, Tom Cross, calls Robbie’s siren-like performance in this scene “a very voyeuristic moment.”

In a 2022 cover story for Vanity Fair, Robbie comments on the debauched activity of some of the characters she plays:

“I don’t really have a whole lot of modesty left,” Robbie says, laughing, then adds that she can separate herself from her characters. “I don’t feel embarrassed when it’s Nellie doing something. I’d feel embarrassed if it was me, but it’s all her.”

Robbie is correct: her career has included many immodest roles. According to Glamour, Robbie’s (highly sexualized) presence in the 2013 film The Wolf of Wall Street “instantly propelled her to sex-symbol status, cemented by her role as the midriff-baring Harley Quinn in Suicide Squad (2016), and literal blonde bombshell Kayla Pospisil in Bombshell (2019).”

Back in 2016, filmmaker and critic Kevin B. Lee noted, “Eight of Robbie’s first ten film roles involve nudity or sex scenes. I can’t think of another A-list Hollywood actress whose career beginnings involved so much nudity, not even Sharon Stone.”

If You Give an Inch…

Let’s step back in time for a moment, before Robbie made it big in Hollywood. She explained the situation in an interview with MTV News:

Right from the beginning of my career, I said I would never do nudity. And I’d made that clear to my team, so they all knew that from the beginning. And, like I said, when I first did my audition [for The Wolf of Wall Street], we never expected it to go any further than perhaps—perhaps—[casting director] Ellen Lewis seeing it. So we found ourselves in the predicament where Marty wanted to test me, and we then had to go back to him and say, ‘Well, look, she actually doesn’t want to do nudity. . .’

So what happened next? What did her team do to support her conviction to remain clothed in front of the camera?

And my team kind of sat me down and they were like, ‘Look, if there’s ever going to be a time in your career to do nudity, this is it. It’s this project with this director.’ . . . I was so trepidatious [sic]. And for a while, I was thinking, “Hey look, maybe it’s just not meant to be. Maybe I just shouldn’t do it.”

Of course, she eventually decided that she should do it. And it proved to be a career-changing decision for her—in more ways than one. As noted by the ScholarDay blog,

When we as an audience see [Robbie] completely nude, a woman who never wanted to do a nude role in order to have a career in Hollywood, we are looking at a woman who had to take three shots of hard liquor in the morning in order to stand there naked in front of us [according to a HuffPost article].

Instrumental in the violation of Robbie’s conscience was the pressure placed on her by her own team—those to whom she had “made [it] clear” that she “would never do nudity.”

The Language of Compromise

The argument Robbie’s team used illustrates the textbook approach to moral compromise: “Just this one time.” The choice to ignore one’s conscience is simpler, easier, less destructive if it’s “just one time,” or “just one more time.” One time doesn’t sound so bad. And thus, people often stumble down the slippery slope of compromise one step at a time.

Robbie’s team urged her to go nude because it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. But it turned into a repeated occurrence. She didn’t step off the precipice of her convictions and then magically defy gravity after completing The Wolf of Wall Street, backtracking up the slope to regain her composure. No, what her team promised would be an exception became the norm.

This trajectory of compromise is illustrated in the very first verse in the book of Psalms: “Blessed is the man who walks not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor stands in the path of sinners, nor sits in the seat of the scornful” (Psalm 1:1). The progression from walking to standing to sitting shows a gradual hardening of one’s heart. On this gradual slope, you eventually get to the point where your compromise no longer bothers you at all. That does not negate the reality of the compromise—only your awareness of and sensitivity to it.

So when someone like Margot Robbie laughs about not having much modesty left, her nonchalance isn’t a brave front masking a bothered conscience; she actually is comfortable with what she used to consider unacceptable. In such a case, her lack of shame about filming hypersexualized content is a commentary on a tragic reality: the slippery slope of compromise eventually numbs you to the point where you aren’t even bothered by the fall.

Previous entry: “What Keira Knightley’s Favorite Sex Scene Tells us about Sex Scenes”

Next entry: “Hollywood Flattery Culture Cloaks Reality”

Over the years, I have showcased numerous actor testimonies on how filming hypersexualized scenes has proven detrimental to them—emotionally and/or morally.1 These stories may not represent all actors’ experiences, but comprise a significant portion of them. Still, there are positive testimonies out there, and it’s worth considering them as well.

Case in point: Keira Knightley. At the age of 17, she gained international fame for her role as Elizabeth Swann in Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl. Since then, she’s become quite familiar with nudity and sex scenes. In her mid-thirties, she stated the following:

I am in a position where I can be quite dictatorial about what I am comfortable with and what I am not. I am in a position where I can say yes and no. I have a contract that is very clear about what I am prepared to do and with sex scenes in particular I have approval over the final edit.

Historically, this has not been your average actor’s experience—especially, she notes, “younger actresses…who do not have that clout and don’t have the ability to say no.”

Knightley continued:

I have had the power to be [dictatorial] for quite some time because I was successful as a young actor. So I have always had nudity clauses and I have always been able to say what exactly I was comfortable with and what I wasn’t. But that was because I had hit movies by the time I was 18. So I have been in a unique position and I have never had a bad experience with any of that. I have always felt utterly protected in all of the scenes I have done. But I understand that’s a very lucky position to be in.

As such, her perspective on nudity and sex scenes is more positive than most. So, when fleshed out, what does such a perspective actually look and sound like? Well, looking at the topic through a wide-angle lens, Knightley has this to say:

In general with sex scenes, and the way I demand the way they are done now, is they need to be absolutely specific. You almost have to do them like a dance sequence. ‘This is exactly what we want from this shot. This [is] exactly where you are kissing. This is exactly what’s going on,’ because that’s the way everyone has control over it and everyone can feel comfortable.

The “Best” Experience

Zeroing in on more specifics, Knightley has shared her favorite sex scene:

“The best sex scene I’ve done onscreen is the one in ‘Atonement.’” . . . . [Director Joe Wright] choreographed the scene within an inch of its life. It was absolutely, ‘Foot goes up there, hand goes up there. So both me and James [McAvoy] felt utterly comfortable and not exposed, and like we could deal with it. It’s never gonna be fun, but we could deal with it.”

Now, I’d like to pause for a moment and ask you to consider something. If asked to share your favorite ice cream, you probably wouldn’t say something like, “Pistachio’s never fun, but I can deal with it.” Or, if asked what your favorite movie is, you wouldn’t choose a film you were merely able to tolerate all the way to the end. Or, if asked about your favorite workplace experience, you likely wouldn’t say, “That one assignment that really wasn’t enjoyable, but which I managed to finally get through.”

And the reason why you wouldn’t answer that way to any of those questions is that you would be talking about your favorite experience—not something that barely passed the minimum requirements of acceptability.

And yet that is exactly how Knightley described her “favorite” sex scene: “It’s never gonna be fun, but we could deal with it.” That’s her highest opinion of filming a sex scene: the best case scenario is if you can just accept that it will be an unpleasant experience.

Such is the perspective of a “successful” person in a “very lucky” and “utterly protected” position. Imagine what it’s like for the vast majority of actors—those who are not as successful, lucky, or protected.

Maturity Breeds Distaste

As a married woman and mother in her thirties, even someone of Knightley’s status has grown in her dislike of onscreen sexuality. A few years ago, Vanity Fair noted how the actress is “no longer interested in acting in nude scenes or sex scenes helmed by male directors”:

“If [the nudity] was about motherhood. . . I’d totally be up for exploring that with a woman [director] who would understand that,” Knightley added. She noted that she’s become “very uncomfortable” doing scenes that amplify the male gaze. Many sex scenes, she said, just boil down to a director needing “somebody to look hot.”

“You can use somebody else, because I’m too vain and [my] body has had two children now,” Knightley said. “And I’d just rather not stand in front of a group of men naked.”

After a couple successful decades in the industry, Knightley’s sentiment regarding sex scenes is “I’d just rather not.”

Would that more actors had such liberties.

Next entry: “Margot Robbie and the Slippery Slope of Moral Compromise”

I appreciate everyone’s patience with my inactivity for the last few months. I’ve been working on a book proposal that has taken up most of my time. Even though there is currently no end in sight for this project, I am approaching what looks to be a good stopping point, where I can then put more focus back on Unpop Culture.

In the meantime: I don’t kick the anthill of politics very often, but I thought I might tickle it with my pinkie toe. Politics is, after all, a component of culture—albeit, a less pleasant one (especially during an election year). Still, I wanted to address two worldly assumptions many Christians—myself included—are tempted by. If we can avoid giving in to these temptations, we can more effectively glorify God and love our neighbor as we participate in another election cycle.

My newest piece for Crosswalk, “2 Mistakes Christian Voters Can Make,” explores these two temptations so as to help us better avoid them. I hope you find this article encouraging—regardless of your political persuasion.

Here at Unpop Culture, we’ve addressed hypersexualized television fare before. One such example is Bridgerton, the third season of which was recently released on Netflix. The Guardian says that in this season, “the bonking is scarce but seriously steamy.” Decider seems to disagree, assuring audiences that “Season 3 gets back to steamy, dreamy basics.” Apparently somewhere in the middle, film and television critic Caroline Siede opines, “Bridgerton is at something of a crossroads over whether it wants to be an actual character-centric dramedy or just a Steamy Sex Show™.”

Having not watched Bridgerton myself, I can’t comment on the series as a whole. I do, however, have thoughts regarding onscreen bodice-ripping, and on that count I have found an unlikely ally.

Enter Noelle Perdue, a producer in the adult film industry, as well as a porn historian. You might guess (and rightly so) that I have serious disagreements with Perdue about pornography: she believes it is thoroughly legitimate, whereas I do not. Ideologically, Perdue and I are on opposite sides.

And yet, rhetorically speaking, she and I share some significant common ground.

After the release of Bridgerton’s second season, Perdue wrote an article for Slate with an intriguing subtitle: “I’ve worked in porn for years. I have some news for the new era of sex-soaked shows on Netflix and HBO.”

The news she shares with Hollywood resonates with the news I’ve been sharing with Christian audiences for over a decade. And I use Perdue’s article as the focal point in my latest piece for Christ and Pop Culture, entitled “Exposing The Arbitrary Line Between ‘Adult’ and ‘Mainstream’ Treatments of Sex.”

As I explain in my article, “Perdue’s ultimate point—that pornography deserves wider cultural respect—is diametrically opposed to a Christian sexual ethic. And yet her piece includes several instructive insights into what actually constitutes pornography.”

You can read more of these instructive insights by going to the entire piece here.

And if you notice any holes in my rhetoric, I would love to hear from you. Please leave your thoughts in the comments section below.

Once again, I was privileged to be a guest on the Fantastical Truth podcast. In this episode, hosts E. Stephen Burnett and Zachary Russell invited author Paeter Frandsen and myself to contribute to the discussion. Our topic: “Should Video Games Star Sensual Heroines?”

Because I’m better at writing than thinking on my feet, a frequent thought I have during a radio or podcast interview is, “I am not very good at this”—especially when working alongside pros like Stephen, Zachary, and Paeter. Nevertheless, thanks to Zachary’s editing prowess, I sound better and more coherent in this podcast than I deserve to be.

I especially enjoyed talking about a particular scene from the 2023 video game Marvel’s Spider-Man 2. The place where I get brought into this segment of the discussion starts at the 56:32 mark.1

You can listen to the entire podcast by clicking the image below.

In a recent podcast segment entitled, “I Too Admire Sydney Sweeney’s Breasts,” conservative cultural commentator said the following:

Everybody this week was talking about Sydney Sweeney’s appearance on Saturday Night Live, and most importantly about her breasts [because of her cleavage revealing outfits]. And I just want to say that I became aware of Sydney Sweeney’s breasts way back in 2021 when she took her shirt off in a film called The Voyeurs. And I don’t usually watch movies more than once, but I’ve watched that about fifteen times—although only about two minutes of it. Just an absolutely beautiful, beautiful woman.

Why would a professing Christian like Klavan make such objectifying remarks about a member of the opposite sex? One possible explanation is that he was attempting some kind of humorous hyperbole. After all, he has evidently stated elsewhere that “he married his wife because she was beautiful,” discovering ten years later that she was actually intelligent and rational as well. He later clarified that his statement was intended as a joke, in that he was merely “pointing out that men are attracted to beautiful women.”

So let’s make the charitable assumption that Klavan was only giving a pretense of gleeful voyeurism. What exactly was his point?

It’s Not Personal, It’s Politics

The apparent answer requires a bit of backstory. A few days prior, conservative author had started the ball rolling by claiming that “Sydney Sweeney’s Boobs Are Anti-Woke.” In regards to cultural clothing styles, Hanania said that “leftists are committed to treating men and women the same.” He continued:

Most of them don’t go as far as […] to eliminate the categories of male and female clothing completely. Most women, even leftists, don’t want to look like men, but if they take feminism seriously enough, they are uncomfortable with looking too different, or making their sexuality too noticeable lest it signal that they are seeking the male gaze or distract from other traits they consider more valuable.

Hanania’s social media postings about Sweeney created a bandwagon that other conservatives jumped aboard—including, so it appears, Andrew Klavan. In Klavan’s own podcast, he followed his voyeuristic praise of Sydney Sweeney by decrying how the fantasy land of leftism leads certain industries in our culture to “try to convince us that what is really beautiful is girls who look like boys.” Instead, he said, “men…like to look at women who are shaped like women.”1

Now, it is true that our culture has systematically attempted to erase many of the distinctions between men and women. The muddy waters of gender fluidity mask the true and beautiful nature of masculinity and femininity. What conservatives like Klavan are doing, however, is fighting these muddy waters with more mud, as if ogling over Sweeney’s immodesty is “somehow an affront to woke culture” in any meaningful or moral sense.

It’s Not Healthy, It’s Immoral

Klavan’s objectification of Sweeney is a far cry from merely appreciating the divinely-fashioned beauty of the human body. Generally speaking, men and women do find each other attractive, and there’s nothing wrong or shameful about that. That such attraction exists—and is acted upon in the proper contexts—is a gift from God (Jas. 1:17), to be received and enjoyed with thanksgiving (1 Tim. 4:4).

Some might argue that if men can’t appreciate the female form without prudes jumping down their throats, we might as well throw out the Song of Solomon. My short answer to that objection is that there’s a huge difference between a catcall and a canticle. But let’s flesh that answer out.

The Song of Solomon poetically explores the beauty of attraction between the sexes. For one, such attraction involves a holistic and relational interest, not a merely sexual one. This is evidenced by the man calling his love, “my sister, my bride” (Song 4:9; 4:10; 4:12; 5:1), and his love saying about him, “This is my beloved and this is my friend” (Song 5:16).

Second, the attraction expressed in the Song of Solomon goes both ways; it does not describe a man salivating over an uninterested woman. On the contrary, the woman shows a great deal of interest and initiative herself. The attraction is mutual (Song 1:2; 2:3; 5:16a; 7:10).

Third, the Song of Solomon points to the covenantal nature of the attraction between the lover and the beloved (Song 2:16; 6:3; 8:6). Both the man and woman in the poem recognize that sexual enjoyment should only be indulged at the proper time (Song 2:7; 3:5; 8:4) and in the proper context (Song 8:1).

Are any of these three factors at play in Klavan’s evaluation of Sweeney? Well, first, his delight is not in Sweeney as a whole person. Rather, he has reduced her to a pair of breasts (with a caveat he throws in that Sweeney is actually a good actress too).

Second, Sweeney (age 26) has shared no reciprocal attraction to Klavan (age 69). She may not even know he exists at all. And if she were to hear his lewd comments about her body, it’s doubtful that she would respond in kind.

Third, there is no committed relationship between Sweeney and Klavan. In fact, Sweeney is currently engaged to be married, and Klavan has actually been married to someone else—his wife Ellen—for over 40 years.

In Solomon-like language, Proverbs 5:19 goes so far as to explicitly instruct husbands to “let her [that is, your wife’s] breasts fill you at all times with delight.” Klavan gives at least the appearance of applying this command to the wrong person.2

It’s Not the Solution, It’s Another Problem

There is no moral equivalence between a husband reassuring his wife, “I love your body,” and a man telling the internet he loves the body of an actress 43 years his junior. The first statement is a tender expression of love. The second is a crass expression of lecherousness.

For Christians, jumping on the bandwagon of vulgar voyeurism requires rejecting Scriptural teaching in favor of owning the libs. Instead of seeking to “destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God” (2 Cor. 10:5), some appear to be choosing the path of “waging war according to the flesh” (2 Cor. 10:3), where lewdness and raunchiness are suddenly legitimate tools with which to fight the radical left.3

It is true that our society’s assault on sexual morals deserves opposition. However, we cannot defeat sexual lunacy with sexual lechery. That’s simply replacing one vice for another. And unlike in multiplication, two negatives do not become a positive.