A Tale of Two Kitties
Lovers of Aslan should heed the warnings from the creator of Hobbes.
E.J. Park | posted 2/01/2006 12:00AM

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In an age in which any notable spiritual movement immediately begets a plethora of associated products (calendars, Bible covers, journals, T-shirts), the logic and form of commercialism demand our critical attention, not merely our easy acceptance. When does the logic of commercialism not make sense? When is it a problem to turn certain ideas or realities into merchandise? When is defying popularity and consumer demand an act of integrity? When should form outweigh marketability? When should a lion remain bookish, and a tiger remain cartoonish?
The Message in the Media
The typical responses to these questions focus on the explicit messages of the products. As long as the content is deemed acceptable, merchandising is viewed as a win-win situation. For the Narnia movie and its associated merchandise, what matters is staying true to the content of the original work. Of course, transforming a book into a Hollywood movie, a video game, a stuffed animal, and any other knickknack makes the idea of "staying true" a bit more problematic.
What does it mean to stay true to a work in another medium? How does a movie capture the spirit of a book when there is so much disparity between the two forms? The fact is, the spirit of a work always differs between forms, because every form has its own characteristics and limitations. The spirit of a work consists of all the elements that make a work experiential and meaningful. The story and characters might be similar in two works, but they are distinctly shaped by each work's form. Reading a book is never the same experience as watching a movie, which is never the same experience as playing a video game, which is never the same experience as wearing a T-shirt.
What, then, is the spirit of The Chronicles of Narnia? At the moment, it is undeniably a bookish experience, which allows and disallows a certain perception of Narnia and the characters that inhabit this magical world. To encounter Aslan through the prose of C. S. Lewis is to glimpse a lion that you will never fully grasp or see, a lion that will always change in your mind as you read and re-read the book, yet a lion that will never really change. To read the books is to share the experience of Lucy.
"Aslan," said Lucy, "you're bigger."
"That is because you are older, little one," answered he.
"Not because you are?"
"I am not. But every year you grow, you will find me bigger."
Will our sense of Aslan change if Narnia is offered as a Happy Meal at McDonald's? Will a White Witch vanilla milkshake appropriately capture the spirit of the original work? Has hearing Aslan speak through the voice of Liam Neeson stripped the lion of his mystery?
Unsurprisingly, the primary concern for Christians has been keeping intact the notion of Aslan as a Christ-figure. Any regard for the consequences of transforming Narnia into forms of merchandise is deflected by the assurance that the message of Aslan will not be compromisedas if the message has nothing to do with the medium (cue Marshall McLuhan rolling in his grave).