The Best Two Yearsreview by Ron Reed |
posted 2/20/2004
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The Best Two Years is very much a "Mormon movie"—it's about Mormons, by Mormons, for Mormons. The fascinating thing is that it may have real interest for evangelical Christians—especially those who consider the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints a non-Christian cult, but may have more in common culturally with Mormons than they ever would have imagined.
This isn't the first "Mormon movie," either. Several predecessors are included in the "Christian" genre at Box Office Mojo—which defines the category as those movies "produced by Christians outside the Hollywood system to promote their principles." Alongside such titles as The Passion of The Christ, Left Behind and Luther, you'll find LDS titles like The Book of Mormon and Latter Day Night Live.
The live theatre tradition among Mormons goes back a long way, and their strong affirmation of performing arts has yielded a niche-market film industry worth paying attention to. Films about Mormons—like The Other Side of Heaven and God's Army—are showing up in neighborhood video stores, which is where you'll probably find The Best Two Years once it finishes its limited theatrical run. (According to the production company's website, it's "Now Playing Across Utah—Coming Soon to Select Cities.")
Kirby Heyborne, K.C. Clyde, and Scott Christopher
Some reviewers are cautiously hailing this charming but flawed story as the best Mormon film ever. It's very much in keeping with the spirit of Mormon theatre; in fact, it began as a stage play that was wildly successful with Mormon audiences. It's about evangelism, but it's not primarily evangelistic; it's confessional. Like pageant plays about Mormon settlers making their way to the Promised Valley, this story celebrates the community by giving witness to its shared experience. The opening song makes that connection: "I believe that the Mormons make the best pioneers, so I'm going to the land of the tulips, I'll be knocking out my best two years …".
The poster gives the set-up. Against a postcard-gorgeous background of windmill and poppies walk four black-suited young missionaries. The first two stride purposefully forward, oblivious to all except their mission. The fourth sees only the book he studies intently. But it's Missionary Number Three who breaks the symmetry, his body turned away from us, snapping a picture as he walks.
Those are Elders Johnson and Van Pelt out front. They're men on a mission, quite literally, and all's right with the world. They've got girlfriends back home, their partnership is working great in a goofy, dorm-room put-down kind of way and most important, their numbers are up in all categories—Discussions Taught, Books of Mormon Placed, Referrals Made, Proselytizing Hours Logged and Challenges Issued. (They fill out a Weekly Statistics form that looks eerily like a baseball score card.)
The one with the spectacles bringing up the rear is the newbie, Calhoun, a nerdish, over-eager convert who tries too hard and has no aptitude for the task at hand.
But Missionary Number Three would rather shoot pictures in the park than work his way through a tightly scheduled "To Evangelize" list. They're running late, but it doesn't phase Elder Rogers to take a sudden detour for Dutch baking from a roadside stand. When the squad returns home, he's the one who plays with kids in the street. Rogers, played by K.C. Clyde, won't pass up any chance to stop and smell—or at least photograph—the flowers.
Clyde is nicely cast as this story's doubting disciple. Low key and sardonic, you gotta like this guy. His wryly observant sense of humor and an unforced charisma leave no doubt Rogers would be one effective evangelist—if he'd only get his act together.
Which is precisely what the story's about. For reasons revealed over the course of the film, Elder Rogers long ago lost his original zeal, and now his very faith may be in question.
Checkmate: Elders Calhoun & Rogers at play
Clyde wins us over with his portrayal of this refreshingly round peg in very square hole, and his work is clearly the film's greatest strength. Unfortunately, it also points up the movie's greatest problem.