It took Disney many years before they were willing to release movies featuring filth (Splash, 1981). How long has it taken Marvel Studios to descend into an even worse pit? Much less time. The rate of cultural decay is increasing.
Although I have known that some Marvel movies (Civil Wars) featured using the name of God or Christ in vain, I thought that I could be careful in screening them. However, I am married to someone who is not careful about such things. In Christianity, to refuse to fund things that directly assault Christ is a rare and lonely vigil. I cannot persuade my own wife of the importance of this. Nevertheless, I will not give up; I will not give in; I will not recant.
I will never bow…
Father, carry me high
Lift me to the skies
Let me be where You are…
Tonight I saw Ant-Man and the Wasp, which featured three different utterences that directly assaulted my faith. The feeling is not unlike having your knee bent before Molech. It is forced worship. It is a horrible, wrenching feeling, and make no mistake — it is intentional.
Hollywood has always been the American Babylon, the west-coast godless spectacle that is larger than life and competes with Christianity for the attention, money, and worship of men. That is why they have their own immortal enshrinement — stars in pavement; they have gods and goddesses everyone is supposed to lust after, and they change out the pantheon every so often.
Movies, like all created art, are not done by accident. Neither are they done with
minimal effort. They must be written, directed, produced, post-produced. The writers are paid. The actors are paid. The scenes are lit, the sets are created, the scenes are shot, and re-shot until they are right. The complicity in creating a movie is five miles deep. So many people had a chance to say, “Hey, uhm, ya know we don’t really need to have the heroes talking like that, do we?” No-one spoke. No-one quit. Literally hundreds are to blame. This is why the movie industry is much like the federal government — if you pay them, then you become complicit, immobile, and bought. Your purchase steals your vote. You are made a cuckold.
The right thing to do would be to walk out of the theater and demand my money back. I did not. I stayed. I chose to not risk a fight. The dread of forced worship remains heavy upon me, and I feel the horror like those who recanted their faith before the Romans and writhed in the agony of the damned.
Ant Man and the Wasp was the first movie I’m aware of that was distributed by Disney. It fits — Marvel and Disney are both peas in the same pod. Both once stood for and once delivered something great. Both purged themselves of what made them great (in Disney’s case the animators, in Marvel’s case, writers and artists), and now they have become ghosts of what they once were. In this destroyed and ruined cultural landscape, Disney and Marvel blaspheme Christ. I walk away from the smoldering ruins.
Marvel had sold me out years ago with the increase of filth with Epic, cemented my disenchantment with purging its authors and artists, and finally, buried it in the sea with the PC nonsense of Civil Wars. What I loved will never die, but that is sealed away where no stripmining rape can take it away.
And still some make excuses. “People at work talk like that.” “It’s not the main character saying that.” “It’s only for a short time.” “It’s your stand.” None of that washes away the fact that I paid someone to blaspheme. My actions are the ones before God.
What would Luther have done?
This is the end of the line for me.