Like After Dark My Sweet or Odd Man Out, The Rapture is a minor masterpiece. It will never attain the accolades heaped upon high profile successes like Chinatown or 2001, but, in terms of ambition and achievement this film belongs in their company. Like those other films, The Rapture is an uncompromising cinematic exploration of spirituality and existence in late-20th century America.
Through the central character of Sharon, writer-director Michael Tolkin examines the jaded ennui to which many succumb. Sharon seeks solace in the arms and loins of others the way some people turn to chemical dependence or fundamentalism. Finding the embrace of her lovers lacking the vitality she needs, Sharon finds God in the vision of a rotating, heavenly pearl. Flash forward--the apocalypse is nigh and, following the death of her husband (another reformed "sinner"), she treks to the desert, daughter in tow to await Jesus's return. Ultimately, Sharon finds herself on the precipice between paradise and eternal loneliness; she chooses solitude.
What is ultimately remarkable about this film is the way in which it doesn't reject the tenets of fundamentalist Christianity; it engages these beliefs in a respectful but critical dialogue and leaves the viewer to decide where they stand. Belief in the rapture is not dismissed--Tolkin buys into it for the sake of his film and allows his characters to encounter the end days. A lesser movie would have undermined the final 20 minutes by explaining it away as delusion. Tolkin does no such thing. In The Rapture, the verity of the apocalypse is never explicit, but there is little within the film to offer a notion that it's simply Sharon's imagination. Or a lesser movie would have found Sharon reuniting with her deceased husband and daughter. She would have chosen to submit herself at the end, ascending, like Deputy Foster.
That's the point of the movie, though, and the mark of Sharon's progression as a character--she moves away from submission to independence. At the beginning, she is a slave to men, following Vic out on his nightly prowls. Finding that lacking, she turns to another man--Jesus--in the hopes that he will fill her with the sense of purpose she desires. Upon killing her only child, she realizes that this man too has left her empty and caused her to lose the only thing in her world that mattered. In the end, Sharon chooses independence and stand alone, surrounded by the void. It's an incredibly liberating denouement (for women) and an intriguing premise.
It's all the more interesting in that it does this without taking pot-shots at religious faith. In my reading, the movie does not fault Christianity or any religion--it faults the people that blindly look to some crutch for happiness in guidance before finding it in themselves. In other words, first know thyself, then know God. Religion does not cause Sharon to shoot her daughter--she chooses to do so on her own
Through the central character of Sharon, writer-director Michael Tolkin examines the jaded ennui to which many succumb. Sharon seeks solace in the arms and loins of others the way some people turn to chemical dependence or fundamentalism. Finding the embrace of her lovers lacking the vitality she needs, Sharon finds God in the vision of a rotating, heavenly pearl. Flash forward--the apocalypse is nigh and, following the death of her husband (another reformed "sinner"), she treks to the desert, daughter in tow to await Jesus's return. Ultimately, Sharon finds herself on the precipice between paradise and eternal loneliness; she chooses solitude.
What is ultimately remarkable about this film is the way in which it doesn't reject the tenets of fundamentalist Christianity; it engages these beliefs in a respectful but critical dialogue and leaves the viewer to decide where they stand. Belief in the rapture is not dismissed--Tolkin buys into it for the sake of his film and allows his characters to encounter the end days. A lesser movie would have undermined the final 20 minutes by explaining it away as delusion. Tolkin does no such thing. In The Rapture, the verity of the apocalypse is never explicit, but there is little within the film to offer a notion that it's simply Sharon's imagination. Or a lesser movie would have found Sharon reuniting with her deceased husband and daughter. She would have chosen to submit herself at the end, ascending, like Deputy Foster.
That's the point of the movie, though, and the mark of Sharon's progression as a character--she moves away from submission to independence. At the beginning, she is a slave to men, following Vic out on his nightly prowls. Finding that lacking, she turns to another man--Jesus--in the hopes that he will fill her with the sense of purpose she desires. Upon killing her only child, she realizes that this man too has left her empty and caused her to lose the only thing in her world that mattered. In the end, Sharon chooses independence and stand alone, surrounded by the void. It's an incredibly liberating denouement (for women) and an intriguing premise.
It's all the more interesting in that it does this without taking pot-shots at religious faith. In my reading, the movie does not fault Christianity or any religion--it faults the people that blindly look to some crutch for happiness in guidance before finding it in themselves. In other words, first know thyself, then know God. Religion does not cause Sharon to shoot her daughter--she chooses to do so on her own