Last night, I watched “The Great Mouse Detective” with my children. Among other things, this Disney movie provides Exhibit A for the idea that the villains get the best songs. (Exhibit B is “Beauty and the Beast”, in case you were wondering.)
But I digress.
At the end of the movie, our hero Basil and the evil Ratigan are fighting on top of Big Ben. The clock strikes 10, and the shaking of the bell causes Ratigan to lose his balance. Stumbling, he falls from the clock, but he grabs onto Basil. Our hero’s grip is slipping, and suddenly both are gone, falling into the abyss.
I’m sure that you’ve seen this scene play out in many ways in different movies. The other characters gasp (of course) and gaze downward into the darkness where our hero fell (of course). And, after a suitable pause, we know that our hero will appear, having once again evaded death.
It’s been done so often that it’s become a cliché. Now, I see this setup and sigh. Of course, our hero will come back, unless it’s an independent film.
But last night, it occurred to me that this is precisely what the Resurrection was. Think about it. Our hero and the evil villain are fighting it out. Suddenly, our hero delivers his mighty blow, which sends the villain stumbling backwards into the yawning abyss. He screams, clutching at air, and falls. But, at the last second, he catches our hero in his grasp. Together they fall into the darkness.
There is a suitable pause. Three days seems about right to me.
Then, suddenly, out out the abyss, comes our hero!
Of course he isn’t dead. Everyone knows that the hero never really dies. Right?
Even Disney can’t escape the Gospel metanarrative.
