At Play in the Fields of the Lord (1991)
Director: Héctor Babenco
Key Cast: Tom Berenger, John Lithgow, Aidan Quinn, Daryl Hannah, Kathy Bates, Tom Waits
Two small planes arrive at the remote Brazilian village of Mãe de Deus (Portuguese for Mother of God), far up the Amazon. The first is piloted by Lewis Moon (Tom Berenger), with comrade Wolf (Tom Waits) along for the ride. They’ve run out of gas, and the local police captain, asserting he has no way to tell if they are tourists or criminals, confiscates their passports, effectively holding them captive.
The second is shepherding a family of protestant missionaries to their new assignment. Martin Quarrier (Aidan Quinn) is full of zeal for this adventure, his wife Hazel (Kathy Bates) is belligerent and condescending toward those she considers savages, and their young son is full of curiosity. They’re met by Leslie Huben (John Lithgow) and his wife Andy (Daryl Hannah), who oversee the conversion of local tribes. It will be the Quarrier family’s mission to bring Jesus to a seemingly hostile, isolated tribe known as the Niaruna.
And there you already know it. This will end in tragedy. From the outset we’re asking: Have we learned nothing?
The police captain wants the Niaruna cleared out, somewhat for their own good since he knows the encroaching miners and settlers will eventually push them out at gunpoint, and somewhat for his own benefit to avoid that trouble. He offers Moon and Wolf a deal: he’ll return their papers and provide a tank of gas if they toss a few bombs out over the Niaruna village to “scare them away.” If some die, well, it can’t be helped. Surprisingly, Moon, who is part Cheyenne, reluctantly agrees. But on his pass over the Niaruna village Moon spots a young native shooting an arrow at the plane. Something clicks. He calls off the bombing run and returns to the town.
That evening, a barroom encounter between Moon and Martin Quarrier frames the major themes that director Héctor Babenco begins to explore. Quarrier shares his delight at learning the word for Great Spirit in the Sioux language is very similar to the Niaruna’s word for Great Spirit. Moon explodes in anger. There were greater similarities between his people and the Crow and Shoshone, he retorts, and yet they killed the Crow and Shoshone every chance they got. And the Crow and Shoshone killed his people too. Because, he says, they were too stupid to recognize their real enemy.
Moon pegs Quarrier for being both a true believer and an admirer of Indian culture. And Quarrier agrees. Then why do you want to change them, he asks. The Lord made Indians the way they are. Who are you to make them different? Quarrier has no answer. And by the time we get through this epic-length tale, there will still be no answers. Well, maybe one.
Later that evening, Moon chugs down a potent local hallucinogen and, in a state of delirium, flies off. Huben reaches Moon by radio, asking him what he’s doing. “I’m at play in the fields of the Lord,” he answers. The missionaries think he’s perished when the plane goes down. But he’s parachuted to safety. The Niaruna see him descending. Moon sheds his clothes and joins the Niaruna.
Meanwhile, the missionaries set out by boat to reinhabit the Catholic mission where, earlier, a priest and two nuns were murdered by the Niaruna. This takes you a third of a way into the narrative, where Babenco begins to taunt you with possibilities and then snatches them away. Moon’s early encounters with the Niaruna are filled with hopeful signs, as the men alternately challenge and accept him, the women giggle and stare, intrigued, and the children play happily with him. The missionaries encounter a deserted and nearly destroyed compound, but some of the previously converted natives return. They rebuild.
But as events unfold, as the interactions between two wholly divergent cultures undergo the expected misunderstandings and fallings-out, as disease besets them both, the tragedies mount.
Best Actor Oscar nods for 1991 films went to Anthony Hopkins (you know, Hannibal), Warren Beatty, Robert De Niro, Nick Nolte, and Robin Williams. So one can understand how Tom Berenger failed to find a spot in this crowd. But he certainly gave one of the most demanding, physically challenging, and downright brave performances of the year. Naked or barely clad (pun intended) through the vast majority of his on-screen presence, he seems completely at ease surrounded by the tribesmen. Through the joys, the arguments, the disappointments, the dangers, he maintains an even countenance, neither over or under acting his part as the man who straddles two worlds. Rarely betraying what's really on his mind.
In fact the entire ensemble acquitted themselves well. Lithgow perfectly personifies the officious and shallow head missionary, referring to the Catholics as rivals out to “steal” converts away from him, passing off moral offenses as God’s will. Quinn plays the naïve true believer with believable zeal, trying to be brave but coming off as mostly ineffectual. Kathy Bates personifies the distraught mother, throwing herself into a chilling psychotic episode. One could wish Daryl Hannah had more to do, but it was her role to drift in and out of the action, the sounding board for a range of themes.
Also notable? The natives were played by local tribespeople, who perform as convincingly as any professional actor, and in their rituals they are particularly fascinating to watch.
Filmed entirely in the Amazon, with meticulous attention to authenticity, the film has a visceral feel: the oppressive heat, relentless rain. The soundtrack perfectly reflects the beauty of the forest, almost as if echoing through the leaves. Setting to right tone, first ethereal, then foreboding.
And yet, as another 1991 film – the far superior “Black Robe” – demonstrates, a tighter narrative would have made a more convincing point. Chief among the weaknesses are the jarring transitions. For example, Moon joins the Niaruna tribe, knowing nothing of the language, and seemingly in a short time speaks fluently. Only later do we get some idea of the time gap when he explains to Quarrier that a native woman is his wife and her swaddling son is probably his.
Babenco also seems to think that lavishing long takes on scenery can evoke a sense of wonder. The missionary’s first trip up river is needlessly languid (maybe he wants to make it seem like a Conradian journey into the heart of darkness), but the same trip seems to happen later in a flash. Or Moon’s first flight to the Niaruna village, overly long, perhaps to instill awe, ala a similar scene from “Out of Africa.” And, aiming to portray the madness of the missionary’s goals, he beats us over the head with it. Multiple characters throughout essentially mutter the same thing, that the native people would have been better off had they been left alone. But a single, well timed and incisive statement might have had more impact. Then there’s the dying child wondering why God created mosquitoes: a touching moment one cannot fault, but whose manipulative staging is completely out of place in a clear-eyed film that works so hard, and effectively, to eschew sentimentality.
Both innocents and sinners die. Both sinners and innocents survive. Each character represents a different commentary on roles involved in this tragedy. Huben represents the persistence of the church, presenting a final report that is broadly factual but morally lacking. His wife is the observer, who takes it in, obviously disheartened, but merely turns and walks away. Martin Quarrier is the hapless true believer, who succeeds at absolutely nothing. His wife Hazel, who wanted nothing to do with the adventure, leaves damaged beyond repair. Moon, what to make of his final closeup?
“At Play in the Fields of the Lord” asks once again: have we learned nothing? And answers with a resounding No.
WARNING: spoilers below
“At Play in the Fields of the Lord” invites us to think deeply about its themes, which is both its great strength and its great weakness. Its strength, because it is laden with ideas. Its weakness, because it is heaped so deeply with stereotypical criticism of Christian missionaries that I wonder if in fact Babenco has buried his much broader and more biting critique.
The title “At Play in the Fields of the Lord” is a loose reference to Jesus’s Parable of the Weeds. An enemy sows weeds in a wheat field. When they sprout, a servant asks if he should pull the weeds. No, the owner says. You may also uproot the wheat. Wait for the harvest, and separate them then.
But the parable speaks of laboring in the fields of the Lord. Not playing. When Moon coins the phrase, this crucial turn of phrase comes back later to hammer home a final, and perhaps controversial, point.
Consider the final, gut-wrenching events at the Niaruna village. Moon has taken medicine there but it is too late, and he can’t even stop the Niaruna from using it incorrectly. Martin Quarrier turns up, determined to warn the Niaruna to escape the impending assault by mercenaries, only to see they are so far gone they can’t be helped. Moon and Quarrier represent two extremes in the type of aid offered to the natives, yet neither has done anything that can inevitably save them.
They watch a tribesman, who will be the next chief, under the influence of a hallucinogen. He is dancing among his people, stroking their bodies, as if to wipe away the disease. It evokes images of born-again faith healers. The man in his frenzy might be acting out of true conviction, but so might a preacher. In either case, we know it is fruitless.
The final reveal shatters any shred of purpose Quarrier might have held on to. Moon confesses that the villagers didn’t embrace him as a benevolent god. They feared him. Because he descended from the sky they took him to be a messenger from Kisu, an evil spirit, bringer of bad luck. Quarrier turns over the words on his tongue: Kisu, Jesus. Quarrier realizes when he was teaching them about his benevolent Jesus they took it to mean their evil Kisu.
Quarrier: “So I taught them that Jesus was their evil spirit?”
Moon: “Ah, Jesus, Kisu, What’s the difference? It’s all hocus-pocus, isn’t it Martin?”
Undoubtedly the Catholic and Protestant missionaries are the instigators of this particular tragedy. We want to believe it’s that simple. But tragedy brought on by the inexorable march of “progress” was coming no matter what. Moon, the man who straddles both words, essentially pronounces: a pox on them all. Any belief in a benevolent god, or a great spirit … it’s all just human folly.
With “At Play in the Fields of the Lord,” you may be tempted to judge the film by your own beliefs, or prejudices, or superstitions, rather than by how effectively Babenco is making his own, much broader statement. He gives you plenty of wheat to chew on. But he might have given you more intellectual nourishment with much less chaff.
(And I'm cognizant of falling into the same trap with this overly long review! Mea Culpa.]
“At Play in the Fields of the Lord” invites us to think deeply about its themes, which is both its great strength and its great weakness. Its strength, because it is laden with ideas. Its weakness, because it is heaped so deeply with stereotypical criticism of Christian missionaries that I wonder if in fact Babenco has buried his much broader and more biting critique.
The title “At Play in the Fields of the Lord” is a loose reference to Jesus’s Parable of the Weeds. An enemy sows weeds in a wheat field. When they sprout, a servant asks if he should pull the weeds. No, the owner says. You may also uproot the wheat. Wait for the harvest, and separate them then.
But the parable speaks of laboring in the fields of the Lord. Not playing. When Moon coins the phrase, this crucial turn of phrase comes back later to hammer home a final, and perhaps controversial, point.
Consider the final, gut-wrenching events at the Niaruna village. Moon has taken medicine there but it is too late, and he can’t even stop the Niaruna from using it incorrectly. Martin Quarrier turns up, determined to warn the Niaruna to escape the impending assault by mercenaries, only to see they are so far gone they can’t be helped. Moon and Quarrier represent two extremes in the type of aid offered to the natives, yet neither has done anything that can inevitably save them.
They watch a tribesman, who will be the next chief, under the influence of a hallucinogen. He is dancing among his people, stroking their bodies, as if to wipe away the disease. It evokes images of born-again faith healers. The man in his frenzy might be acting out of true conviction, but so might a preacher. In either case, we know it is fruitless.
The final reveal shatters any shred of purpose Quarrier might have held on to. Moon confesses that the villagers didn’t embrace him as a benevolent god. They feared him. Because he descended from the sky they took him to be a messenger from Kisu, an evil spirit, bringer of bad luck. Quarrier turns over the words on his tongue: Kisu, Jesus. Quarrier realizes when he was teaching them about his benevolent Jesus they took it to mean their evil Kisu.
Quarrier: “So I taught them that Jesus was their evil spirit?”
Moon: “Ah, Jesus, Kisu, What’s the difference? It’s all hocus-pocus, isn’t it Martin?”
Undoubtedly the Catholic and Protestant missionaries are the instigators of this particular tragedy. We want to believe it’s that simple. But tragedy brought on by the inexorable march of “progress” was coming no matter what. Moon, the man who straddles both words, essentially pronounces: a pox on them all. Any belief in a benevolent god, or a great spirit … it’s all just human folly.
With “At Play in the Fields of the Lord,” you may be tempted to judge the film by your own beliefs, or prejudices, or superstitions, rather than by how effectively Babenco is making his own, much broader statement. He gives you plenty of wheat to chew on. But he might have given you more intellectual nourishment with much less chaff.
(And I'm cognizant of falling into the same trap with this overly long review! Mea Culpa.]
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