Paul being Paul and The Dialectic of Humaness: Three Thoughts on Cold Souls

Amanda and I went through an extended film slump. We watched a string of films so disappointing that we started Netflixing (verb?) almost exclusively documentaries and television shows. So after a few months of film sabbatical, we were surprisingly welcomed back with one of the best series of movies we can remember enjoying. We watched 500 Days of Summer, Cold Souls, Moon, and The Time Traveler’s Wife[1].

We really liked each of them. But Cold Souls was our favorite by a pretty substantial margin. This is how film is done. The film had us repeatedly laughing out loud, working hard to piece together and anticipate the story line[2] and interacting with big ideas. It was well written and exceptionally well acted. So, I will try to give as little away as possible, but I simply recommend seeing it before reading this post.

The basic idea is that the protagonist cannot bear the weight of his soul and in an ‘Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind’ type plot device, finds a company that can extract his soul and put it in storage. But we slowly learn about an underground Russian black market in replacement souls[3] which takes the story to a darker and more interesting place.



And, with that, here are three things[4] I liked about old Souls:

1. ‘Paul being Paul’

I recently had a lively interaction with a friend about a passage in Acts. His assertion was that the apostle Paul was being a ‘total douche’ in Acts 20. Now, some of you know that I am not the guy Paul would want defending him (seeing as I often find him annoying despite being God’s vessel for a good chunk of His self disclosure) and I conceded that there were portions of this passage that was just ‘Paul being Paul.’ This phrase, comically, came to mind again as we began watching this movie. Cold Souls is an exercise in Paul being Paul.

When I recommend this movie I lead with, “It includes Paul Giamatti playing himself.” That was all it took to sell me on the film. I am a Paul Giamatti fan. I was trolling his IMDB page and found these two things that help articulate why I find him compelling.

In the 1998 remake of Doctor Dolittle (1998), Paul portrayed a human in charge of a talking orangutan, in the 2001 remake of Planet of the Apes (2001), he portrays a talking orangutan in charge of humans.

“I've got to be the geekiest guy in the world in a lot of ways. I'm like a zeta male.” –Paul Giamatti

But, here is the thing; he doesn’t really just play himself. He actually plays three distinct versions of himself.[5] This is one of the great actors of our era and was stuck far too long playing nerd and tool roles because he lack’s Pitt or Bana’s marketability. I’m thrilled that he is finally getting roles worthy of his talent.

2. A Subversive Dualism

I have written a couple times about philosophical dualism[6] in contemporary art in[7] this blog…mostly with respect to Joss Whedon’s Dollhouse and, more recently, Stargate Universe. Cold Souls explicitly claims to have no interest in questions we would classify as ‘Philosophy of Mind.’ Early in the film, as the premise was explained, the film makers essentially punted on all philosophical questions.[8]

“People come here and the all want to know if the soul is immortal and how it functions…and we haven’t a clue. No clue. We only offer the possibility to de-soul the body or de body the soul. You can see it either way.”

But as the film unfolded and people start exchanging souls or simply putting them in storage, the narrative got far less agnostic about the nature of the soul. Here are a few positions they took:

-It is not a person’s intellect, memories, education or personality.
-Its beauty and value is not correlated with its appearance.
-It appears to be without gender.
-It is physical but vanishes (or at least becomes immaterial) at death.[9]
-It both affects and is affected by its physical ‘vessel’.

This last position is the one I find particularly interesting. More like Dollhouse than Stargate, Cold Souls is an exercise in what I will call ‘flexible dualism’. Despite building its whole premise on the soul-body duality, it finds the actual relation of these messier and overlapping. This, as I have mentioned before, puts them surprisingly close to a Christian theology of the soul.[10]

3. So, what is the soul?

While the film makers seem coyly unconcerned about whether it is or is not eternal, they take a surprisingly specific position on what the soul is. It seems that the soul is composed of the formative influences of our life’s most jarringly painful and beautiful events. Who we fundamentally are is the result of our cumulative response to the dialectic of joy and pain that composes our lives.

When Paul first contemplates storing his soul he says “I don’t need to be happy. I just don’t want to suffer.” But it turns out that pain and darkness and heaviness are requisite characteristics of humanness. They work with beauty to make us most fundamentally who we are.

And so the most beautiful souls in the film are those who have allowed pain and joy to do the most thorough work on them. They are the ones who have not wasted either their hurt or their happiness. They have not been sidelined or undone by either. In the film the greatest demand was for the souls of Russian poets…but the actual beauty of the soul was uncorrelated with opportunity or vocation. The most beautiful souls are those who had found a fiercely contented existence in the heaviness of this puzzling tension that is the horrific beauty of life. While this is, by no means, a complete description of the soul (and, I’m sure, was never meant to be) it is an excellent insight into our condition. Who we fundamentally are is deeply affected by what we do with our most devastating hurts and our greatest joys. In light of this, it makes a lot of sense that God would offer us the cross AND the resurrection as our supreme resources in this quest.

This post was prepared while listening to The Creek Drank the Cradle by Iron and Wine

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[1] I know this film got panned critically, but I really liked it. Seriously, I’m pretty easy…the bar is pretty low…it’s just that film has ceased to be a story telling genre. I have been putting together a post asserting the (sure to be controversial) thesis that we are currently in the golden age of music. But the opposite is true of film. It has never been so bad. The naught-ies were to film what the late 80’s and early 90’s were to music.
[2] We had to watch the movie twice to piece the story together. This is because, there is a lot of story that is not told, only eluded to.
[3] One of the best gags/plot devices in the film is that Russian women serve as soul ‘mules’ because ‘souls are volatile at elevation.’
[4] The impoverishment of pragmatism and the bankruptcy of functionalism compose a fourth really interesting theme. Here is one exchange that highlights it:
Paul: My God, how did we get here?
Doctor: When you get rid of the soul everything makes more sense. Everything becomes more functional and purposeful.
[5] One of the best scenes depicts a literally souless Giamatti delivering Chekov dialog. I simply cannot express how enjoyable this is. There is an extended version of this in the deleted scenes that breaks the rule that ‘deleted scenes are generally deleted for a reason.’ It is transcendent.
[6] This word means far too many things to be useful. I am talking about the idea that the human self is composed of distinct physical and non-physical components.
[7] Do you write ‘in’ a blog or ‘on’ a blog? I’m not really sure.
[8] To belabor the sports analogy: leading with ‘we have no idea’ then unpacking the idea for the rest of the film is like punting on first down because you have the best chance to score with your defense on the field.
[9] Sort of. It will persist if its original owner dies but the soul is in another person…but it vanishes as soon as it is freed from its carrier.
[10] I have belabored this point in this blog so I will relegate it to a footnote. Christian theology believes that the soul and body are distinct entities. However, a robust Christian theology of the seat of the self is far more complicated than the physicalist straw man (or, perhaps more aptly, straw ghost) would admit. The incarnation and the physical resurrection demonstrate that the Christian picture of ‘who I really am’ is one of an inexorable connection of physical and non-physical realities. The soul is its own thing but only in reference to the biological organism. The shocking (and overlooked) reality of the Christian picture of ‘who I am’ is that it is remarkably biological.

Joss' Dollhouse and the Seat of the Self

Joss Whedon wrapped up the first season (a 12 episode half season) of this latest small screen offering last week I gave some preliminary thoughts on Dollhouse in my last ‘Fragments’ post. But, in light of its likely impending cancelation[1], I thought I’d formulate some more comprehensive ideas while I still had the chance.

(Note: For this post, as with most of my thoughts on Joss’ work, I am indebted to my friend Tom. Some of the ideas are mine, many are his, most are born of the dialectic of our positions.)

Dollhouse follows the working of an underground organization that keeps attractive adults (‘actives’) in child like mental states, living a simple utopian existence, until a client pays a lot of money to ‘imprint’ one of these ‘blank slates’ with a computer generated personality and skill set (usually an advantagous amalgamation of the mental states downloaded from real people). The ‘active’ then springs into action to fulfill some sexual fantasy (which seems to constitute the majority of their work) or perform some highly specialized mission.[2]

The series started slowly. Some of the early episodes were unremarkable. Many of the early religious themes were uneven.[3] But even as the series slowly gained momentum, there were some characteristic Whedon dialogue. Here are my two favorites:

Ballard[4]: The technology exists.
Lubov: Somebody made a monkey tango, right? It doesn't mean it's being used on people.
Ballard: It does. It does mean that.
Lubov: How do you know?
Ballard: We split the atom, we make a bomb. We come up with anything new, the first thing we do is destroy, manipulate, control. It's human nature.
LUBOV: Yeah, people are mostly crap.

and

Topher[5]: Everyone wants to be righteous when they can afford to be

But the series picked up speed near the middle with a couple legitimately surprising plot twists and by episode 8 (“Needs[6]”) I eagerly anticipated each episode as the weekend began to draw near. But, while the story telling got better, it was the themes that matured to the point that it warranted water cooler discussion like no other show I have followed.[7]

Two major themes emerged that mainly motivated this post.

I. Cracks in the Edifice of Modernism

Early on cracks began to form in the great modern machine[8]. The unapologetic ‘company guys’ (Topher and Ms Dewit) have absolute confidence in the technology and seem to either be complete moral pragmatists or actually believe that a better world can be sculpted by technology. But, then the 'wiped' actives (presumably cleansed of all traces of personality or ‘self’) began to exhibit unexpected behavior. They formed social groupings. Victor developed a persistent attraction[9]. And the protagonist, Echo, felt a need to finish an engagement, volunteered to help fine a spy and (with Sierra, Millie and Victor) experienced unresolved psychological disturbance from their previous life.

I find this to be the first really interesting thematic arc. Enlightenment rationalism is the cornerstone of the modernist synthesis. Reason is king and is the seat of the self.[10] Dollhouse poses the question ‘If we are the sum of our decisions and predispositions, could a self (or an amalgamation of selves) simply be transferred between bodies interchangeably?’ The Dollhouse staff (Topher and Ms Dewitt) represent the modernist confidence in technology...the epistemic primacy of science and reason[11].

But the postmodern cracks in their obvious scientism start early and go deep, however. Parts of the individual turn out to not be accessible by resetting the brain. An intuitive, subjective self survives (though in some more than others). The physical body in the Dollhouse universe, is more than just a carbon based machine that chauffeurs the computer that encompasses our true selves. Which leads to the second theme.

II. The Body, The Self and Resurrection

In episode 10 (‘Resurrection[12],’ near the end of the first season) a close friend of the Dollhouse director dies. But the diseased fried predicted that her death would be the result of foul play and used her connections at the Dollhouse to upload her brain in order to return to her funeral and, possibly, solve the case of her own death.

So her consciousness (minus the last three months from the final scan) was uploaded to Echo. Boyd, who acts as the shows moral conscience[13], deeply objected:

Boyd: So we can give you life after death?
Topher: Only if we REALLY like you.
Boyd: Life after death, where does that end.
Topher: The same place it begins…death.

Boyd later objects that they are on the verge of peddling immortality. But are they really? If a facsimile of your consciousness lives on in another body (or even the same body), are you not still dead? This is the fantastic madness that kept me thinking about ‘The Prestige’ for months after seeing it.

It is at this point of the series, the implicit philosophical theme becomes explicit. Dollhouse poses the central question of the Philosophy of Mind: What is the seat and nature of ‘the self’? The Dollhouse program is based on a firmly held Physicalism. Our ‘selves’ are co-extensive with our minds. In other words, our brains[14] are who we really are. The conflict was articulated as clearly as it can be in the final episode of the first season:

Ballard: I know you are all invested in your vaunted technology and it is all very impressive. But I still don't believe you can't wipe away a person's soul
Topher: (scoffs): Their What? (scornfully)
Ballard: Their Soul, who they are, at their core, I don't think that goes away.
Topher: You'd be wrong about that.

But Joss seems to adjudicate contra physicalism. The show sides with Ballard and Boyd. At least in his narrative world, the souls seems to exist. Even if our brains are wiped clean or (in the case of the finale) are overloaded with multiple ‘imprints,’ a residue of the original self persists. Our neural activity is not, in fact, who we really are. There is no ‘blank state.’ I agree.

But there is a religious version of this error. Gnosticism (which has infected many modern forms of Christianity) makes the opposite error. While physicalism sees our bodies as who we fundamentally are, Gnosticism sees our souls as our true selves independent of our bodies. Christian theology, however, teaches a bifurcated but integrated existence. We are composed of body and soul which are distinct…but they are not independent. And resurrection will not be some upload of our consciousness into the cosmic ether.[15] Our bodies are not our selves…but neither are our souls. We are integrated selves…which is why Christianity insists on the doctrine of the bodily resurrection.

So in the end, I suspect that it is Joss’s postmodern commitment to the intuitive self and the process of becoming in distinction to being that results in his narrative commitment to a ‘true self’ that is independent of the ‘rational self.’ But, regardless of motivation, it is a fruitful theme delivered with good story telling. I really am hoping for a second season.

This post was prepared while listening to Don’t You Fake It by The Red jumpsuit Apparatus _________________
[1] Most of the shows I really like get canceled (with the obvious exception of ‘The Office’). ‘Pushing Daisies’ got axed. ‘Dollhouse’ is teetering. And ‘Chuck’ is likely dead. The difference with ‘Chuck’ is that it probably should be done. It has been an entertaining show, but I feel like it has exhausted most of its natural obstacles. I wouldn’t have been opposed to them just wrapping it up after 1.5 seasons.
[2] This leads to one of the most interesting technical aspects of the show. Each week, half the actors are playing different roles. One time, at least three different actors end up playing the same role.
[3] Joss is an atheist, but seems pretty good natured about it and is usually extremely interested in exploring religious themes and characters. But the ‘True Believer’ episode was one of the poorest.
[4] I didn’t realize that Battle Star Galactica had finished shooting by the time Dollhouse began…so I was devastated to see Helo show up in the pilot and kept waiting for him to die in BSG.
[5] Most of the best dialog is written for Topher, and the actor was fantastic. Actually, this is one of the ways in which Firefly/Serenity was far superior to Dollhouse. Topher is the only character in Dollhouse that could have held his own on the ship Serenity. Character development is what Joss does best and the Dollhouse gimmick doesn’t really allow us to vest in the main characters from week to week. (Footnote to the footnote: XKCD.com just did a fantastic series about the cast of firefly starting here and going for 5 days. I highly recommend it)
[6] Though, the back story in ‘Needs’ might have been the series low point.
[7] Though, in fairness, since we do not keep a TV, and usually follow the small screen via Netflix DVD’s, my discovery of Hulu this year made it the first time that a water cooler discussion the actual, following Monday was possible.
[8] Literally. Every time we see Amy Acker’s lovely face we are reminded that this manufactured paradise is unraveling.
[9] In an episode that either had too many erection jokes, or too few…I can’t decide.
[10] Cogito ergo sum – our thoughts are the primary evidence of our very existence.
[11] There is something interesting here about how the triumph of reason makes reason itself modular and interchangeable.
[12] While the weighty themes really begin in this episode, the sub-plot is hysterical as Topher makes himself the ‘perfect girl’…and it sets up one of the most human moments of the series.
[13] Early on, we thought that he would form an alliance with Acker’s character. As they earned each others trust, they each earned ours. But then a rift began to develop as they realized they didn’t really know each other very well at all, affecting our confidence in them as well.
[14] Tom’s wife pointed out something pretty interesting here. The brain isn't the only thing that would need to be wiped and imprinted. The entire nervous system would require tampering to do the kind of thing the show proposes.
[15] In the chapter of City of God I read just last week, Augustine says: “And yet (paradise) was not merely spiritual – a paradise which man could enjoy through his inward senses, without being a material paradise, to satisfy man’s outward perceptions. It was clearly both, to satisfy both.” As I pitched this idea to Tom, he recalled an earlier conversation and asked "I thought you were a dualist.” I am. I believe (with orthodox Christian theology) that each person is composed of a distinct body and soul. I just believe that their ‘true self’ is not found in one or the other, but the inextricable melding of the two…putting Joss’ ‘Dollhouse’ universe closer to Christian theology than physicalism or Gnosticism. For more on this, see my talk on ‘Why the Body Matters.’ (text) (Mp3)