'A beautiful day in the neighborhood'

In a movie theater, I like to stay until the very end of the credits. I can't jump up from a film and immediately enter back into normal life when I have been deeply affected by a piece of art I've given two hours of my life to; I need the transition time to usher me back into the space around me before being sent back out into the world. It's important to appreciate every person who poured their life's time into creating the movie, honoring their name across the screen; someone put thought into how the credits would be experienced, and often there is interesting music and art that close the film. You can learn a lot about how movies are made by reading the credits.

Regardless, I've noticed most people in a theater rush out of the room as soon as the last scene ends.

Recently, though, I saw "A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood," the fictive film about Mr. Rogers' friendship with cynical journalist Lloyd Vogel. Halfway through the end credits, I turned around from my front-row seat and was deeply moved by what I saw: there were still approximately 20 people in the theater, standing and watching the credits roll.

It was a testament to the quality of the film, I believe, to the kind of media our society actually craves: media that asks us to be better than we were when we entered.

It is a movie in which director Marielle Heller does for adults what Mr. Rogers did for children: uses film to give adults the tools we need to address pain we have experienced in our pasts, to process it and speak about it honestly and courageously. Through the main character's struggle to forgive his father and embrace his imperative role in his own son's life, it specifically frees men from unhealthy ideals of masculinity through showing that it is healthy to experience emotions and face them vulnerably alongside people who love you and can help.

The movie is not, of course, without its flaws: critic Armand White, in writing for the conservative magazine "National Review," argues the film's flaw is that it does not place Mr. Rogers' Christian faith at the forefront.

What is not spoken aloud about faith, though, is visible: Mr. Rogers allows children to watch him struggle on-camera as he puts up a tent rather than having it flawlessly pre-assembed by a crew before filming. He prays by name for people whose names he has written in a mini notebook -- I don't remember the last time I heard someone pray in a mainstream movie. And he asks Vogel and the theater for a minute of silence to be grateful for the people who have loved us into being.

Whatever the movie's faults, our society would be better if more films worked to heal the viewer like this. Perhaps it is not yet perfect, but it is countercultural, daring to take a step into unchartered territory in an industry that glorifies hyperactive stimulation, empty pleasure and all things carnal. "A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood" upholds the family unit, incorporates stillness and teaches us to love what is wholesome.

That, to me, is the work of God. I'm not sure what else to call it.