No Stars, No Dots
When I began this parenting journey, I was about as far from a "read aloud parent" that you could be. It wasn't really part of my upbringing, and since reading out loud is so much slower than reading silently, I was mostly frustrated with this supposedly blessed time with my children. What I've figured out over the past 15 years, however, is that reading books and even watching movies with my children offers an awesome opportunity for formation and reflection that we wouldn't otherwise have. The stories that we listen to and watch have a profound impact on us, and when we listen together with our children, I think that the impact is infinitely greater.
I've been trying to figure out how to write about the movie, The Greatest Showman, ever since we first watched it several weeks ago. Something in the movie resonated deeply with me, but whenever I try to talk about it, I end up babbling incoherently and finishing up with something like, "You should just watch it!" Several people have watched the movie since then, and when they report back to me their reviews are usually positive, but I don't get the sense that most people are moved as deeply as I was. So here is my shot at explaining my fascination with this musical that goes far beyond appreciation for catchy song and dance numbers, by comparing it to a children's book that I also probably like more than any human being out there. (Yes, there will probably be spoilers--for the movie and the book!)
You are Special by Max Lucado was given to my daughter, Emma, when she was born. The story is a
sweet little allegory that centers on a small village of wooden people--called Wemmicks--who have a peculiar habit. The live their lives just like we do, but each of them carries around a box of star and dot stickers. These stickers are pulled out any time someone does something amazing or incredible (stars) or something stupid or clumsy (dots). Because of this odd practice, the Wemmicks' faces, arms, and legs are usually decorated or defaced with a various assortment of stars and dots (usually one more than the other).
Punchinello is one of the unfortunate Wemmicks who is covered in dots and doesn't have a single star. He didn't even like to go outside because other Wemmicks would come and give him more dots just because he didn't have any stars.
One day, poor Punchinello meets a very unusual Wemmick named Lucia. She didn't have any dots at all... no stars either. The Wemmicks were so impressed that she had no dots that they would try to give her a star, but it wouldn't stick. When they tried to give her a dot because she had no stars, that wouldn't stick either. They just fell right off. Punchinello asked her why the stickers don't stick and she pointed up the hill to the woodcarver's house. "I go and visit Eli everyday." Punchinello discovers this woodcarver who knows him through and through (because he made him) and the little Wemmick begins to believe that Eli loves him. At the very end of the book, one of the dots falls from Punchinello's arm.
The Greatest Showman might seem to be light years away from this simple story, but I think that Phineas Taylor Barnum's character could have fit right in to the Wemmicks' world.
Starting from nothing then going even lower, he's mocked, pushed around, and could even have struggled with hopelessness and despair but for one thing: Charity.
I love that his wife's name is Charity Barnum. It truly is her love that saves this man, from the time he is a child. Her unconditional love, along with an incredible and abandoned trust in him (check out the dance scene to One Million Dreams and her Tightrope solo for examples of this), transforms him into a man who can shake off the "dots." Courage is born in him, and he takes a great risk to do something remarkable with his life. This conviction did not just transform his life, but others' as well.
The song Come Alive is his clarion call to other people who felt that they needed to hide their faces from the world. He says to Lettie, the bearded lady, "They don't understand. But they will." He's calling the Punchinellos out of the darkness to burn brightly and dream "with your eyes wide open."
The Come Alive scene ends with the audience going wild, while Barnum looks out incredulously happy, yet the director keeps the applause silent until his eyes meet Charity's. At this moment in the movie, I wondered aloud what the movie's defining conflict would be. Everything seemed to be perfect for him. His risk paid off. He could provide for his family. He brought joy and hope to the lives of bullied and shunned people. The dots are gone. Or are they?
Barnum's joy is quickly soured as he witnesses his beautiful ballerina daughter being shunned by her peers because of his work. His wife tries to help him see that pursing the adulation of empty and shallow people was a waste of time. Charity said she had to learn to ignore them as a child, and their daughter would, too. It was this moment when I realized that Charity Barnum and Lucia from Lucado's book had a lot in common. In order to give up everything and marry Phinneas Taylor Barnum, she had to give up her place in "high society." For a happiness that was real, she had to give up their stars and also reject their dots. But her poor husband, successful though he was, had not learned this freedom. He was still chasing the stars that his father never could. Because of this, he almost lost everything.
Through a chain of events, Barnum brings famous opera singer Jenny Lind to New York. Jenny is his chance to prove that he is more than a purveyor of sideshow novelties. Her song Never Enough is so powerfully sung before the glamorous theater full of high society elites that you almost miss the not-so-subtle warning of the derailing of Barnum's life. "All the shine of a thousand spotlights... will never be enough."
In another of my favorite philosophical movies that no one else appreciates, Kung Fu Panda II, the soothsayer warns the villain to change his ways. "The cup you choose to fill has no bottom," she tells him. Charity warns Phinneas in a similar vein: "You don't need everyone to love you, Phin... Just a few good people." After a long pause, he responds, "I know that."
But he didn't.
He had the love and admiration of his circus performers, but he does not hesitate to cut them out as he rises to the top. The masterful song, This is Me, is a response from his glorious "oddities" who had for the first time in their lives finally experienced something like the Wemmick's stars. When Barnum himself casts dots on them, they refuse to make apologies for who they are. Phinneas, however, had a longer and more painful journey to freedom.
Perhaps the climax of the whole movie comes after Barnum loses everything. With the song From Now On Barnum finally figures out what is most important. Or, more correctly, who is most important. He is reborn in a way that fills you with hope for humanity. He runs to his wife and makes the courageous confession, "I just... I wanted to be more than I was." She shakes her head and reminds him, "I never wanted more than the man I fell in love with." Phinneas responds with a promise, "like an anthem in my heart," and makes his vow to be the man she fell in love with. From now on.
In these two stories, it is so easy to see myself in Phinneas and Punchinello. Most of us spend half of our lives trying to convince ourselves that the bad things that other people say or do to us aren't really important, and the other half trying to win their stars as if they are the most important thing in the world. But stars are not love. "All the shine of a thousand spotlights... will never be enough." Charity Barnum and Eli the Woodcarver don't offer stars or dots. They offer the kind of acceptance and love that calls out greatness and leads to true freedom.
As an armchair theologian and philosopher, these stories evoke a great deal of self-reflection for me. Do I think I have to be more than who I am to be loved? How often do I seek to be part of the "in" crowd, putting up walls to keep others out? Do I live my life to win over my critics or for my God and my family?
"You don't need everyone to love you, Phin." "You don't need everyone to love you, Punchinello." Through these stories, we as a family are reminded again that we don't need everyone to love us, either. You ARE loved, my darlings. If we can live in this freedom, we can offer it as a gift to others, too. No stars. No dots. From now on.
"I give you a new commandment: love one another. As I have loved you, so you also should love one another." John 13:34
I've been trying to figure out how to write about the movie, The Greatest Showman, ever since we first watched it several weeks ago. Something in the movie resonated deeply with me, but whenever I try to talk about it, I end up babbling incoherently and finishing up with something like, "You should just watch it!" Several people have watched the movie since then, and when they report back to me their reviews are usually positive, but I don't get the sense that most people are moved as deeply as I was. So here is my shot at explaining my fascination with this musical that goes far beyond appreciation for catchy song and dance numbers, by comparing it to a children's book that I also probably like more than any human being out there. (Yes, there will probably be spoilers--for the movie and the book!)
You are Special by Max Lucado was given to my daughter, Emma, when she was born. The story is asweet little allegory that centers on a small village of wooden people--called Wemmicks--who have a peculiar habit. The live their lives just like we do, but each of them carries around a box of star and dot stickers. These stickers are pulled out any time someone does something amazing or incredible (stars) or something stupid or clumsy (dots). Because of this odd practice, the Wemmicks' faces, arms, and legs are usually decorated or defaced with a various assortment of stars and dots (usually one more than the other).
Punchinello is one of the unfortunate Wemmicks who is covered in dots and doesn't have a single star. He didn't even like to go outside because other Wemmicks would come and give him more dots just because he didn't have any stars.
One day, poor Punchinello meets a very unusual Wemmick named Lucia. She didn't have any dots at all... no stars either. The Wemmicks were so impressed that she had no dots that they would try to give her a star, but it wouldn't stick. When they tried to give her a dot because she had no stars, that wouldn't stick either. They just fell right off. Punchinello asked her why the stickers don't stick and she pointed up the hill to the woodcarver's house. "I go and visit Eli everyday." Punchinello discovers this woodcarver who knows him through and through (because he made him) and the little Wemmick begins to believe that Eli loves him. At the very end of the book, one of the dots falls from Punchinello's arm.
Starting from nothing then going even lower, he's mocked, pushed around, and could even have struggled with hopelessness and despair but for one thing: Charity.
I love that his wife's name is Charity Barnum. It truly is her love that saves this man, from the time he is a child. Her unconditional love, along with an incredible and abandoned trust in him (check out the dance scene to One Million Dreams and her Tightrope solo for examples of this), transforms him into a man who can shake off the "dots." Courage is born in him, and he takes a great risk to do something remarkable with his life. This conviction did not just transform his life, but others' as well.
The song Come Alive is his clarion call to other people who felt that they needed to hide their faces from the world. He says to Lettie, the bearded lady, "They don't understand. But they will." He's calling the Punchinellos out of the darkness to burn brightly and dream "with your eyes wide open."
The Come Alive scene ends with the audience going wild, while Barnum looks out incredulously happy, yet the director keeps the applause silent until his eyes meet Charity's. At this moment in the movie, I wondered aloud what the movie's defining conflict would be. Everything seemed to be perfect for him. His risk paid off. He could provide for his family. He brought joy and hope to the lives of bullied and shunned people. The dots are gone. Or are they?
Barnum's joy is quickly soured as he witnesses his beautiful ballerina daughter being shunned by her peers because of his work. His wife tries to help him see that pursing the adulation of empty and shallow people was a waste of time. Charity said she had to learn to ignore them as a child, and their daughter would, too. It was this moment when I realized that Charity Barnum and Lucia from Lucado's book had a lot in common. In order to give up everything and marry Phinneas Taylor Barnum, she had to give up her place in "high society." For a happiness that was real, she had to give up their stars and also reject their dots. But her poor husband, successful though he was, had not learned this freedom. He was still chasing the stars that his father never could. Because of this, he almost lost everything.
Through a chain of events, Barnum brings famous opera singer Jenny Lind to New York. Jenny is his chance to prove that he is more than a purveyor of sideshow novelties. Her song Never Enough is so powerfully sung before the glamorous theater full of high society elites that you almost miss the not-so-subtle warning of the derailing of Barnum's life. "All the shine of a thousand spotlights... will never be enough."
In another of my favorite philosophical movies that no one else appreciates, Kung Fu Panda II, the soothsayer warns the villain to change his ways. "The cup you choose to fill has no bottom," she tells him. Charity warns Phinneas in a similar vein: "You don't need everyone to love you, Phin... Just a few good people." After a long pause, he responds, "I know that."
But he didn't.
He had the love and admiration of his circus performers, but he does not hesitate to cut them out as he rises to the top. The masterful song, This is Me, is a response from his glorious "oddities" who had for the first time in their lives finally experienced something like the Wemmick's stars. When Barnum himself casts dots on them, they refuse to make apologies for who they are. Phinneas, however, had a longer and more painful journey to freedom.
Perhaps the climax of the whole movie comes after Barnum loses everything. With the song From Now On Barnum finally figures out what is most important. Or, more correctly, who is most important. He is reborn in a way that fills you with hope for humanity. He runs to his wife and makes the courageous confession, "I just... I wanted to be more than I was." She shakes her head and reminds him, "I never wanted more than the man I fell in love with." Phinneas responds with a promise, "like an anthem in my heart," and makes his vow to be the man she fell in love with. From now on.
In these two stories, it is so easy to see myself in Phinneas and Punchinello. Most of us spend half of our lives trying to convince ourselves that the bad things that other people say or do to us aren't really important, and the other half trying to win their stars as if they are the most important thing in the world. But stars are not love. "All the shine of a thousand spotlights... will never be enough." Charity Barnum and Eli the Woodcarver don't offer stars or dots. They offer the kind of acceptance and love that calls out greatness and leads to true freedom.
As an armchair theologian and philosopher, these stories evoke a great deal of self-reflection for me. Do I think I have to be more than who I am to be loved? How often do I seek to be part of the "in" crowd, putting up walls to keep others out? Do I live my life to win over my critics or for my God and my family?
"You don't need everyone to love you, Phin." "You don't need everyone to love you, Punchinello." Through these stories, we as a family are reminded again that we don't need everyone to love us, either. You ARE loved, my darlings. If we can live in this freedom, we can offer it as a gift to others, too. No stars. No dots. From now on.
"I give you a new commandment: love one another. As I have loved you, so you also should love one another." John 13:34
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