So a new movie is about to completely evade a theater near you. Entitled Hellbound? it’s a documentary that explores the notion of Hell — what is it? who goes there? is it necessary? and how close is it to a WaWa?
Among the theological wizards who appear within its 24 frames per second: Mark Driscoll (pro-hell, but you knew that); Bob Larson (if Marvel Comics had an exorcist, it would be Bob); Franky Schaeffer (every father’s dream, and a man so filled with hate for “fundamentalists” he could fuel several hells with his wind); Greg Boyd (pro-annihilationist, if I’m not mistaken); Jerry Walls (Methodist who is pro-purgatory; it takes all kinds); Necrobutcher, the bassist from Mayhem, whose treatise “Body Piercing as Anthropological Expression in Spinoza’s Tractatus Theologico-Politicus” is required reading in some of the best rehabs; some liberal, unitarian types for whom hell is having to share a platform with some neo-Calvinist types, for whom no hell would make being one of the six people who are saved no fun at all; Peter Kreeft (Muhammad once appeared to him in a dream, so take his ideas for what they’re worth); and the only person in this group whose opinion I’m really interested in: Robert McKee (played so memorably by Brian Cox in the Nicholas Cage film Adaptation).
I’m from Queens, so a place of eternal torment where your internal organs boil and your skin melts and your mind reels at the ever-increasing capacity of your resurrected body to sustain ever-increasing levels of pain and from which there is no escape and where the screams of your fellow damned is the only music you will ever hear again is perfectly feasible.
It’s Heaven I have to fight doubts about.
Here’s a scene from Adaptation: