The theological current in The Truman Show isn’t very far beneath the surface. I saw, in the relationship between Christof and Truman, a new and exciting look at the Christian doctrine called the Incarnation. I want to talk about just that little piece of the movie, so if it’s been a while since you’ve seen it, you might want to consult the plot summary I have attached here.
I was ready to be excited about it. The Incarnation—the actual presence of God among us in the life, ministry, death and resurrection of Jesus—is squarely orthodox. It is also, when it has been referred to in your hearing many hundreds of times and never really cherished, just…well.. square. Christof’s final appeal to Truman falls in the “close but no cigar” category as a ploy, but it falls well short of the Incarnation and I found it clarifying to spend some time looking at just how short it falls and in what ways.
This post is a little on the long side. I apologize for that. I have three excuses; none really adequate. The first is that the dialogue itself is indispensable and takes up some space. Ditto for the textual basis of “incarnation.” The baseball metaphor isn’t strictly necessary, but I liked the outcome--“Truman walks”—so very much that I was not willing to part with it.
Let’s start at the movie’s final scene. Truman has been dissatisfied despite living in “paradise” all his life. When odd things begin to happen, he starts looking at everything more critically. Under his suspicious inspection, the whole charade of The Truman Show begins to unravel. Truman discovers that he is a prisoner and has always been a prisoner. He launches a daring escape and, right on the edge of success, he hears a voice calling him. Here’s what happens.
Christof: Truman. (Truman whips around trying to locate the voice. What he actually sees is a vast sky with a brilliant sun coming out from behind the clouds) It’s OK. You can talk. I can hear you.
Truman: Who are you?
Christof: I’m the creator…of a television show that brings hope and joy to millions.
Truman: Then who am I?
Christof: You are the star
Truman: Was nothing real?
Christof: You were real. There’s no more truth out there than there is in the world I created for you. The same lies. The same deceit. But in my world, you have nothing to fear. I know you better than you knowyourself.
Truman: You never had a camera inside my head.
Christof: You are afraid. That’s why you can’t leave. It’s OK, Truman. I understand. I’ve been watching you your whole life. I was watching when you were born. I was watching when you took your first step. I was watching on your first day of school.
(Chuckles as he remembers)…the episode where you lost your first tooth. You can’t leave, Truman. You belong here. With me. Talk to me. Say something. (Agitated) Say something, goddammit, you’re on television. You’re live to the whole world.Truman: In case I don’t see ya’, good afternoon, good evening, and good night. (Truman takes a long theatrical bow, turns, and goes through the Exit door into the dark.)
So let’s return to the initial question, which is, “Where is Christof’s tent?” The imagery of the tent comes from John 1: 14. Raymond Brown translates it, “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us.”[1] Brown points out that the verb here, skenoun, which he renders as “made his dwelling” is related to skene, “tent,” so it is, literally, “to pitch a tent.”[2]
A crude and common way to describe the Incarnation is to say that God (in the Book of the Revelation) or the divine Word (in the Gospel of John) has pitched his tent with ours. If our tents have bad drainage, then His tent has bad drainage as well. If the ground is hard to sleep on for us, it is hard to sleep on for Him. We won’t even talk about how far it is to the latrine.
That, in any case, is where God’s tent is. Where is Christof’s tent? It’s not with Truman. It’s not anywhere in Seahaven. It is, in fact, on the 221st floor of the Omnicam Ecosphere, far above “the world” where Truman lives. Christof is, in the most literal sense, “the man in the moon.” Here, we see him "directing" Truman's life.
OK, so Christof is up there and Christ is down here. What difference does it make? Frankly, it’s hard to say when you take the question on directly. Fortunately, we aren’t doing that. We are going to look at Christof’s appeal in terms of its face value. In fact, there’s a good deal wrong with Christof’s position, but let’s just look at the argument. In answer to Truman’s question, “Who are you?” Christof says, essentially, “I am the producer of the most popular and remunerative television show ever made.” You’d have to say that‘s impressive. It will stand him in good stead when he goes looking for his next job. It doesn’t do much for Truman. Nor does his answer to Truman’s next question, “Then who am I?” The answer, “You are the star,” establishes no relationship between Truman and Christof. It establishes a relationship between Truman and The Truman Show. Let’s say that relationship, the one between Truman and the show, is Christof’s first pitch. It is too high. Truman watches it go by.
The relationship question has been asked and answered. There is a distant and professional relationship from Christof’s side. From Truman’s side, there is no relationship at all. There are no funds in Christof’s bank, Truman Branch, and he will try shortly to withdraw some resources from that account. It doesn’t work.
Reality is Christof’s second pitch. It’s too low. Truman doesn’t go for it. It looks like this.
“So, if you’re the director and I’m the star, what in all my life was real?” Christof’s answer, properly understood, is, “Nothing was real. Nothing you ever experienced was what you understood it to be.” For Truman, the meaning of Christof’s answer—“You were real”—means only that Truman, naïve and misled, reacted authentically to the fraudulent life Christof gave him.
Safety here in Seahaven is the third pitch. It’s right down the heart of the plate. It’s true. Truman will always be “safe” on The Truman Show. Truman can’t let it go, but he fouls it off. It’s true he will be safe, but he doesn’t want safety. He will, after he has escaped, but not now. Christof contrasts the world where Truman has lived with the world outside. The world outside, Christof says, is filled with lies and deceit. Further, for those outside, the consequences of falling for those lies are painful. Here, as the star of The Truman Show, Truman is “safe.”
This much is true. To recognize the bitter truth of it, we need to remember that it was Christof’s idea to raise Truman on an island and give him a debilitating fear of water. It was Christof’s idea that Truman would be raised to “know his limits” (as his faux father said) and to give up being an explorer because everything has already been discovered (as his teacher said). So in offering Truman a life of safety, Christof also offers him a life of fear and radically downsized aspirations.
Clearly, this is not a good time for Christof to play this card. Truman is on the water in a sailboat (where he has always believed his father died) and heading for the real world as fast as the wind will take him. Truman has already foregone the kind of “safety” Christof can give him.
The fourth pitch—it is now two and one—is that Truman is not the best person to be making these decisions about his own life. It’s wide.
In this pitch, Christof recounts lovingly what of Truman’s life he has seen: the birth, the first step, the lost tooth. All seen from a distance, of course. Truman’s retort is sharp. It is the first anger we have seen from him. “You never had a camera inside my head!” What Christof knows, Truman charges, is what can be known by watching his behavior. You can’t delude a man completely and then form good judgments based on his behavior. “If you wanted to know me,” says Truman, essentially, “you would have to come inside my mind. You have never asked and I would never have agreed.” Christof has no empathy, having never pitched his tent with Truman. And further, says Truman, he has no insight either. Even Christof’s 5000 cameras have not captured Truman’s hopes and dreams.
Christof is now up against it. The count is three and one and this one has to be over the plate. He still has his best pitch.
You “are” a star. That is who you are. I “am” your director. That is who I am. You belong here…with me. What Truman has been learning in the last few days and what has been decisively confirmed in the last few minutes is that he does not “belong” with Christof. He does not belong “to” Christof. He belongs, for the first time in his life, to himself and, if all goes well, to Lauren.
Truman watches closely. The pitch is inside. And he walks. Out.
It has been said through the centuries that the notion of “incarnation,” of God’s pitching His tent among ours, is incomprehensible. An enfleshed spirit is like a square circle. It has been said that it is a scandal. The glory of the spirit should not be caged in a prison of mere flesh. It has been said that it is preposterous. The Creator of the world comes to live in a little town on the eastern edge of the Mediterranean Sea? Please!
There are good things to be said for these objections and maybe someday I’ll say them. Today, I want to look at the other side of the argument. If the divine Word has, in fact, lived with us in Seahaven, then He knows what life is like in Seahaven. He is the answer the Incarnation gives us about why Truman, in a completely secure life, yearns for “something more,” something for which he has no name.
If the divine Word lived with us in Seahaven, then he knows how hard it is to continue to want to see the truth. He knows how easy it is to deny the deepest call and to settle for what is shallow and comfortable.
As a result of the Incarnation, God can look us in the eye and say, “I know who you are.” He can say, “I have prepared a place for you. It is not Seahaven.” He can say, “Going where you must go will not be easy. You will need, in fact, to leave the old Truman—who you thought you were—behind. But I will help. And you can do it.”
This is what I am calling “approaching the Incarnation” from the back side. I’m sure it’s not to everyone’s taste, but I see it differently when I do that. It seems new, somehow; more vivid, more appealing. For me, that makes it worth doing. You can make your own decision. There’s a door right over there marked Exit.
[1] Brown deals with this passage in the first volume of his The Gospel According to John, page 4. The translation of the passage is not in dispute. I cite Brown because I like the clarity of his phrasing.
[2] The only other use of this verb occurs in Revelation 21:3 “Behold the dwelling of God is with men; He will dwell (skenoun) with them.”
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