Sex and Death in Donnie Darko
The unique and oblique Donnie Darko is a revelation in the way the Revelation is a revelation. It is darkness for everyone except those with eyes to see.
A sermon or article inspired by a film usually turns out to be an excuse to publicly revel in the movie. The Bible (if referenced at all) is viewed through the lens of the film rather than the other way around. Moreover, the practice of analyzing cinema for “Christ figures” has become modish and slipshod.
However, despite all efforts to the contrary, the tropes and mores of Western fiction remain rooted in a heritage of Christendom, drawing from its deep wells, dealing in its artifacts, and breathing its remaining air. As literature, the Bible as an inherently visual and musical book. Our inability to discern the extent to which the biblical palette is still employed, even in relief, in postmodern art and film is the outcome of the loss of our biblical imagination.
Paradoxically, it is no longer the ostensibly Christian artists, authors, musicians, or filmmakers whose instincts are naturally attuned to the logic of the spiritual realm. The accidental heirs of the symbolic language and narrative intuitions of Scripture — vital tools traded by Christian academia for a mess of modernist pottage — are talented but unsuspecting infidels. From this rich heritage they occasionally, even accidentally, produce the odd diamond. Richard Kelly’s Donnie Darko is a prime example. [ Major spoilers ]
Written from the gut by a young nobody and produced on a budget that was more love than money, Donnie Darko’s underdog status combined with its sophomoric ambition, eccentric charm, and black humor enabled it to overcome every disadvantage. Despite a limited theatrical release, word of mouth slowly built a cult following.
Kelly’s subsequent films, though similarly daring, are nowhere near as engaging, which suggests that Darko owes its brilliance to a lucky collaboration of diverse talents. Yet Kelly’s enigmatic yarn remains at its heart. Its commonplace setting, bizarre events, and Delphic storyline draw you in, but it then requires you to contemplate the significance of each element as a piece of a puzzle, a process that, if allowed, reaches into your very core.
It remains popular because it defies categorization, but this factor was also the reason why it took some time to find its audience. As one reviewer wrote: “It’s a weird dark science fiction prophetic teen angst black comedy romantic time travel thriller religious parable, which is too long a description for a category sign at Blockbuster.”
Dark Sayings
Besides the genuine frights, well-drawn characters, dream-like atmosphere, and mind-boggling plot, the film engages those of a certain mindset because it mimics the language of the biblical prophets. Discomfiting dreams and visions — which both cloud and expose reality — punctuate the everyday. But there are a number of other similarities.
Firstly, as in the Bible, crucial facts are deliberately understated or even entirely omitted, perceived only by their consequences, which then require interpretation. As events unfold, they form an undertow that removes the viewer miles from shore before it is even noticed.
Secondly, Donnie Darko, like the Bible, and indeed like life, can only be read, watched, or lived forwards, but can only be truly understood looking backwards.
Thirdly, despite appearances, the film builds a consistent symbolic language and has a subtle but extremely logical narrative architecture. One only realizes on subsequent viewings that every line of dialogue, every plot point, every visual detail, every song lyric, every silent juxtaposition, serves a pointed purpose.
Frank: Pay close attention. You could miss something.
Fourthly, the storyline and the dialogue present many seeming ambiguities. As it is with the Old Testament, many scenes engender more questions than they answer, leaving us guessing as to the author’s meaning, the characters’ motivations, and indeed the very significance of the scene itself. Also, as it was with Jesus’ preaching ministry, crucial questions are answered with more questions, and seemingly irrelevant statements whose purpose is only revealed later on interrupt or even hijack the dramatic flow. The narrative technique of plant-and-payoff gathers the mundanities of suburban life to describe a scenario in which all creation is groaning, striving to describe, to bring forth, to reveal, a profound truth which is inscribed in everything but is yet unperceived (Romans 8:19-22).
Finally, a settled understanding of the plot (especially in the film’s shorter, original Theatrical Cut) requires some information that is either extrinsic to the actual movie or is only hinted at. Except in retrospect, many of the clues which the narrative provides are not obviously clues at all. Furthermore, the enlightening text of an important book which reveals whether Donnie’s experiences are real or a series of schizophrenic delusions only became available as an extra on the original DVD release. In other words, since the meaning of Donnie’s tragicomic odyssey is only made explicit outside of the film, it is an illustrated strongbox which evinces the existence of a key.
In these respects, the unique and oblique story of Donnie Darko is a revelation in the way that the Revelation is a revelation. It is darkness for everyone except those with eyes to see, a willingness to allow its visual and metrical punches to bypass the intellect and resonate in the gut, the patience to wait for the intellect to catch up with what has been internalized, and the understanding to perceive the riddle as part of a much bigger picture.
As mentioned, this is a movie that requires rumination in order to put the pieces together. Like the Bible, each piece of Donnie Darko only makes sense in relation to all the other pieces. The connections are not immediately apparent, and, like the Bible, one notices some new allusion (and they abound, ranging from The Catcher In The Rye to E.T.), or some new possibility, with each viewing. For this reason, some fans even reject the author’s explanation of the mystery in favor of their own.
Donnie Darko is a film that begs to be analyzed. The messianic, scientific, philosophical, and even psychoanalytical themes can be drawn out, but like Donnie’s $200-a-session psychologist, one senses that even though Donnie is the one on the couch, he is the one in charge. He is analyzing us. Like Jesus, we begin to question whether Donnie is actually a victim caught in a whirlwind of events beyond his control or the one calling the shots at every step. The same could be asked of the stray jet plane engine featured in the story. Is it an ordinary object in an extraordinary situation or the other way around?
Symbolism
Most interesting are the film’s biblical themes, which are not entirely unintentional and maintain a surprisingly Levitical focus, that is, an instinctive contemplation of the existential significance of sex and death.
For this purpose, the movie develops its own visual language in the way that the Bible does. Elements of the world and objects of everyday life are borrowed, isolated, and given new meaning. Each item takes on a symbolic role as this is conferred upon it. Once imbued in this way by the author, inanimate things become silent witnesses that cleverly bypass our intellectual defenses. Like articles which possess sentimental value in real life, these literary or cinematic signs are able to create visceral responses in us without saying a word. Use of this subtle technique is the glory of all great literature and cinema. Aptly, the Hebrew word dabar means both “word” and “thing.”
Sex: The Bunny and the Smurfette
Donnie’s imaginary friend, Frank, is a six foot tall, talking animal — a postmodern totem pole, an idol that speaks (Isaiah 44:9). Yet he is obviously a masked man, so our terror subsides into curiosity. Mercurial and eminently quotable, from the outset he has clearly been sent to help.
“And he said, Hear now my words: if there be a prophet among you, I Jehovah will make myself known unto him in a vision, I will speak with him in a dream.” (Numbers 12:6)
Frank’s rescue of Donnie, his appearance in Donnie’s various sanctuaries, and his knowledge of future events make him a combination of priest, king, and prophet. Like the serpent in Eden, we are called to figure out whether he is a true prophet or a false one. Deciphering Donnie Darko requires considerable effort, but as in Eden, this begins with discerning what kind of kingdom is being offered. Donnie is given power, but power to act as a servant. His faithfulness eventually results in greater access, speaking with this awesome but gentle prophet face to face.
So why is Frank a rabbit? His attributes are symbols of priesthood (flesh), kingdom (the sword), and prophecy (warnings), all of which are incarnated in Donnie. A six foot bunny rabbit (sex), with a face like a grinning skull (death), who guides Donnie’s “progress” (identity) with cryptic sayings (judgment) seems more likely to have grown out of the “loamy undergrowth” of centuries of Bible inculturation than the tangential “ego” psychology of Carl Jung. The roots of Donnie Darko can be traced much deeper into the Western unconscious than many might want to admit.
Frank, who is a terrifying composite of the grim reaper, the invisible rabbit in the 1950 James Stewart comedy Harvey, and the elusive rabbit which Alice follows into Wonderland, seems to possess a reality distortion field. As a ubiquitous motif, rabbits appear as toys, in photographs, in the soundtrack (the song “The Killing Moon” by Echo and the Bunnymen), and in a frank class discussion of sex and death in relation to Richard Adams’ Watership Down (in the Director’s Cut).
Since rabbits are not only cuddly childhood toys but also constantly copulating, this particular pooka is not only a seer but also a mentor for the transition from childhood to adulthood. The eventual revelation of the bunny’s true identity tears apart two sexual relationships and necessitates two deaths. On top of this, there is the tragic family history of Gretchen, who at one point says, “Some people are just born with tragedy in their blood.” Sex and death are never far apart in Donnie Darko.
At times, Donnie Darko is crude — not visually, but verbally. Although this facet is realistic and never gratuitous, the assault on propriety seems at first to be nothing more than run-of-the-mill teen movie potty mouth. We soon catch on, however, that sex is being considered at an existential level. To some degree, this is a coming-of-age for Donnie, who is confronted with the difference between sexual attraction and love. A conversation debating the sexuality of Smurfs conveys that while Donnie and friends are no longer children, neither are they men. With a new awareness of the animal side of humanity, the boys give childhood cartoons a carnal spin. But once again, mortality waits in the wings. Donnie is shooting bottles with a BB gun, and the boys are interrupted by the appearance of an old woman nicknamed Grandma Death.
Finally, there is the theme of child exploitation, not only in a darkly comic subplot involving a school girls’ dance team which gives new meaning to the phrase “dirty dancing,” but also in Donnie’s adult sister’s choice of Halloween costume: she wears the black dress of a character from Kubrick’s Lolita, Vivian Darkbloom (an anagram of the name of the author, Vladimir Nabokov). Sex. And death. She is first seen wearing the dress at the Halloween party, in front of the ominous grandfather clock and a row of decorative skulls. The last time Donnie sees her, she is in the dress, in a deep sleep, in a chair, next to a row of toys which includes a bright pink plush rabbit.
The dark symbolism woven into the backdrops and the puzzling overuse of coarse language merely hint at neighborhood evils which are hidden in human hearts and behind cellar doors. The darkness exists only in potential but is an ever present threat to the security of the suburban sanctuary. But is Donnie — a juvenile vandal with mental health issues — merely part of the darkness, a harbinger of doom, or is he an involuntary angel of light? Donnie’s is the only bicycle without a headlight.
Despite Donnie’s evident problems, his family is one of the happiest seen in modern film. His parents not only love their children without condition, and love each other with a good deal of understanding and humor, the way in which this is presented is refreshing and believable, and ultimately makes Donnie’s destiny all the more tragic.
Death: The Spear and the Sparrow
Donnie asks Frank, “Why do you wear that stupid bunny suit?” Frank replies, “Why do you wear that stupid man suit?” Is Frank referring to Donnie’s immaturity (“one little boy, one little man” sings Tears For Fears in the soundtrack), or insinuating that he might as well already be dead? Donnie’s Halloween costume is a skeleton suit, after all. Life and death are frequently confused. Donnie’s illness cuts him off from reality to some degree, yet he is the most sensitive, the most alive and existentially aware, continually striving to see in the dark. In contrast, his incognizant classmates simply go with the flow, floating like the “baby mice” in the flood which closes the school.
Grandma Death, like the “midnight” grandfather clock, turns out to be the opposite of what she appeared to be. Roberta Sparrow (“shining bird”) is a woman on the cusp of life and death whose brilliance is initially masked. She whispers in Donnie’s ear, “Every living creature on earth dies alone,” perhaps a reference to Matthew 10:29. At first sight, she is a picture of hopelessness, the pointlessness of the cycles of life, and the danger of unmet desires. Yet, she becomes a source of transcendent hope, explaining Donnie’s hallucinations as visions through time. Every person has a path, like a shining cord or a spear, a future which erupts from the solar plexus like the glory of Mother Eve from the body of Father Adam, and stretches out before them like an open sky, seemingly predestined, a pointer to future things. Although this tubular “portal” represents one’s path through life, a deleted scene portrays the death of Donnie in more explicit detail: he is impaled through the chest with a large “spear” of timber, Adam bleeding in a deep sleep for the purpose of “procreation.”
Those around Donnie are the Manipulated Living, and two of them are the Manipulated Dead. Death, like life, is predestined, and yet Donnie is given a choice. He is what Grandma Death refers to as the Living Receiver. Either she is right and he alone can save the world, or she is insane and he should not have stopped taking his medication.
The unlikely Halloween double feature at the cinema is Evil Dead and The Last Temptation of Christ, a contrast between those who are dead but think they are alive, and those who are alive but facing death. According to the second film on the bill, Jesus’ final temptation was the thought of a normal life, a wife and a family. Sex and death. But He was cut off “in the midst” as a sacrifice that others might live. Only perfect love can cast out fear, and that requires perfect trust in a source outside ourselves: a transcendent, loving Father who keeps His promises. The family of God is now numbered in the billions.
Identity: The Man in the Mirror
A cheesy self help video which promotes Love over Fear as the solution to all human troubles is shown to the students at Donnie’s school. In it, a woman relates her experience of looking through her reflection in a mirror to discover her true self. This is no help to Donnie, whose “ego reflection” is a demonic bunny rabbit. The true prophet is himself a divine mirror who exposes what we cannot see for ourselves. Being more troubled and fearful than anyone else, it is he who can see through the self-help sham. The one who is most desperate and most burdened with life is often the one looking for real answers. Death confronts Donnie constantly, yet it is somehow the path to life.
Dr. Lilian Thurman: If the sky were to suddenly open up, there would be no law, there would be no rule. There would only be you and your memories — the choices you’ve made and the people you’ve touched. If this world were to end, there would only be you and him, and no one else.
The veiled face of God sorts out the true seekers from those who seek to answer their own prayers, the dead living from the living dead. In God’s world, the path to everlasting life always looks and tastes like death.
However, the biggest question facing Donnie in his crisis (and indeed, the viewer) is this: Is the origin of Frank within Donnie or without? Is he the mere delusion which Donnie’s therapist believes him to be, or is he a genuine guide? If the latter, then Donnie will not die alone. God’s eye is on every sparrow.
Judgment: Water, Knife, and Fire
Not everything in this world is what it appears to be. Satan himself appears as an angel of light, and Donnie is “enlightened” at midnight. Through various trials, various characters are exposed for what they are. The theme of veiled realities is also found in the nature of the trials themselves: acts of vandalism carried out by water and fire to “save” all those “in danger.” Donnie’s English class is reading The Destructors by Graham Greene, a short story that ironically presents destruction as a form of creation. With increasing gravity, each act of vandalism becomes a portal to a new world, “divine” judgments with unforeseen but ultimately positive consequences, something only somebody supernatural, or superhuman, could have planned: victories disguised as defeats.
Gretchen: “Donnie Darko.” What the hell kind of name is that? It’s like some sort of superhero or something.
Donnie: What makes you think I’m not?
Due to its subversive nature, Greene’s book is banned by the PTA, but the one who is most guilty, the one suspected to be mad even by his family and friends (Mark 3:21), might just be the savior. Donnie’s final deed as a human wrecking ball, his ultimate act of “creative vandalism,” time’s darkest hour, is, like the resurrection, so beautiful, so breathtaking, so far reaching, and yet so understated, that history almost missed it. The name Donald means “ruler of the world.”
A storm is coming, Frank says, a storm that will swallow the children. And I will deliver them from the kingdom of Bane. I’ll deliver the children back to their doorsteps. I’ll send the monsters back to the underground. I’ll send them back to a place where no one else can see them except for me, ’cause I am Donnie Darko.
Donnie Darko is a fun and thought-provoking movie, one as enigmatic as Revelation and as loaded as Leviticus. And it highlights the purpose of “dark sayings.” They are given to make us think in order to help us to grow. As Dr. Monnitoff suggests in the Director’s Cut, infants require darkness for development. That is the reason why there are two versions of the film. Some prefer the ambiguity of the almost impenetrable original, while others appreciate the greater light afforded in the later version.
Sex and Death in Leviticus
The serpent was sent to make Adam wise, to teach him to “divide” between light and darkness, to choose between an offer of life that would bring death to all, and a willingness to die for the sake of eternal life for all. Similarly, the goal of biblical studies and rejection of heresy throughout Church history is the attainment of a deeper perception and better apprehension of God’s will. The sovereignty of the God of heaven and the Man on earth became one in the incarnation of Christ, and this becomes one in us by His Spirit.
Little by little, we behold Him with unveiled faces. To the world, we are fools, the mad, the most miserable. Take some medication. To God, our paths are plain, and by His Word and Spirit He lights them for us. They are predetermined, and yet we choose to follow them, even unto death. Only with an open ear, an inquisitive mind, and a submissive heart can we discover the hidden intentions of God.
Israel’s path to life lay through multiple deaths, and multiple acts of “creative destruction.” Moses gave Israel the Ten Words (or “ten things”) in Exodus, and at the center of this construct are the prohibitions against murder and adultery, illegitimate sex and death, the sins of the flesh, stoneable offenses: strange knife and strange fire (Leviticus 10:1). Likewise, the center of the sacrificial process is “knife and fire,” fiery judgments flanked by ritual washings as symbolic floods. If we are reading the Bible “cumulatively,” this should make us think of the curses upon the naked Adam and Eve: Adam returning to the dust of the Land over which he sweats (death), Eve’s manifold difficulties in producing offspring (sex), and the dry land disappearing once again between the waters of the deep (judgment).
Adam: Why do you wear that stupid snake suit?
Satan: Why do you wear that stupid man suit?
Leviticus takes these curses and expounds upon them in a manner intended to teach us about moral accountability and blamelessness via sacrificial atonement. The Levitical Law becomes far less enigmatic when understood as a kind of “liturgical surgery” which deals with sinful flesh not through cutting and stitching, but through cutting (knife) and consumption (fire), the flaming sword between the holy court of God and the domain of men who would approach it.
Leviticus begins with the ascension offering, a recapitulation of Genesis 1 step by step but in flesh, blood, fire, and smoke. In the same way that Donnie’s Tangent Universe is sacrificed for the sake of the original, Moses’ microcosmic “Tabernacle” world is ritually “de-created” that the real world might be spared from annihilation.
Leviticus then expands upon the fundamental laws of the Ten Words in a way that reminded every Israelite, every day, that in their flesh they were to be living sacrifices. Each believer is a portent of the “new creation.” The Law “measured out” the ministry of the Tabernacle in the flesh of every Israelite. At various levels of holiness, it made every Israelite a walking, talking Tabernacle.
John the Baptist was in effect the last Levite, and the sign of the end of his ministry was the sky opening up at the baptism of Jesus. It was the end of the Law but not the beginning of lawlessness. The animal totems and sacrifices were unmasked, and mankind’s adulthood began.
Since the spirit of Man was darkened, unable to discern the truth, Levitical Law dealt in object lessons in much the same way as the single law in Eden regarding the forbidden fruit. The mundane reveals a universal pattern: fruit has seed, flesh and skin, and so does man. Fruit is all about sex and death, but the fruits of man on earth depend on the fruits of the righteous Man before God. This means that none of Leviticus is obsolete for the Christian. In fact, it is even more beneficial for us than it was for the children of Israel. Unlike them, we all have the Spirit of God to illuminate these dark laws, which are heavenly truth engraved in earthly materials. Outside of God, our existence makes no sense. Inside God, both our beginnings and our endings are gracious gifts.
Levitical Law was a “dark saying” designed to bring light, to force men to meditate, and we are still chewing on it today. Like Frank, the recorded history of Israel’s priesthood, kingdom, and prophets still serves to rescue us, rule us, and warn us. Dealing with sex and death in cryptic language compels us to contemplate the nakedness inherent in our beginnings and endings, to bring us to true maturity rather than the mere trappings of adulthood.
Leviticus is a book that arrests and disturbs the faithful, who wrestle with it and are nourished, while the unfaithful pass on untouched, uninterested. Like Donnie Darko, it is a work which takes some time to find its audience, but when it finds you, it reaches into your very core.
This is a chapter from Dark Sayings: Essays for the Eyes of the Heart.
Art: Olivier Cartheret
