Lost and Found in the Cathedral of Cinema
We recommend Jeffrey Overstreet’s latest book.
Lost and Found in the Cathedral of Cinema: A Spiritual Journey by Jeffrey Overstreet (Broadleaf Books, 261 pages, out now)
I’ve been familiar with Jeffrey Overstreet’s writing for as long as I’ve been aware that film criticism was something that real people could do. Our paths first crossed at Seattle Pacific University, where I went to college, and we first became friends during monthly tapings of the Kindlings Muse podcast in the upper room at Hale’s Ales Brewery. He was a regular guest at the podcast roundtable, and I remember sitting up and taking notice during a discussion about Oscar nominees that dug deep past plot and well into the films’ spiritual themes. Those podcasts have long since disappeared from the internet, but my interest in films, film criticism, and the ways that both intersect with religious practice still remains. So does my friendship with Overstreet, who remains an influence on my own critical work.
Lost and Found in the Cathedral of Cinema is a memoir of sorts, a personal journey from childhood through adulthood as reflected in the films that Overstreet encountered as he grew up. The book engages with movies meant for children and grown-ups alike—My Neighbor Totoro and Blade Runner, A Room with a View and Watership Down. Each chapter is a reflection on a film, or two, or sometimes three—and the use of the word “reflection” is intentional, with each chapter acting as a meditation on art and the way that it has shaped the author. The language also serves as a nod to Overstreet’s previous critical memoir, Through a Screen Darkly. We might see just a reflection as in a mirror here on earth, but the silver screen reflects and refracts our reality in a way that invites awe and contemplation. Good critical writing is an opportunity for better understanding of our own world in all its broken, messy glory, and Overstreet’s writing is an example of this.
Lost and Found in the Cathedral of Cinema is introspective, yet expansive. Through his writing, Overstreet invites us to contemplate the nature of faith, beauty, and the presence of God. His work isn’t preachy; rather, it’s a conversation, an invitation to walk beside him for a while as he thinks about the movies that have touched his life so deeply. Overstreet engages in the kind of wrestling with faith and film that we here at Seeing & Believing like to do—the kind where watching a challenging film means having your faith enriched. —Sarah Welch-Larson