Saving the Day: Harry Potter as Christ-Figure - Essay Example

? Lloyd Baugh’s book Imaging the Divine: Jesus and Christ-Figures in Film lays out an interesting set of qualifications for a character in a film to be considered a symbolic representation of Jesus, or Christ-figure. A surprising number of these qualifications can be found in Harry Potter, titular protagonist of the Harry Potter series of books and movies, and most especially in the second film in the series, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. Harry and Sirius Black (and to some extent, Harry’s late father) share some characteristics of a Christ-figure, but by Baugh’s definitions, Harry seems to come out as the central one. Listing every aspect of the cinematic Christ-figure that Baugh outlines would amount to retyping his book, which is outside the scope of this paper. A brief outline of the characteristics he describes will suffice for now. Baugh suggests that a Christ-figure in film will generally display some or all of the following characteristics: They will have mysterious or muddy origins, analogous to Christ’s immaculate conception and unusual birth. They often gather about them a group of loyal followers who learn from the Christ-figure and carry on his mission, analogous to the Apostles. They will enter an environment where injustice predominates, particularly injustice against ordinary people, and will work against this system, driven by a strong internal commitment to an ideal of justice. The Christ-figure will tend to be in conflict with the authorities, even as Jesus was in conflict with religious authorities of the time. A subtle undercurrent of prayer and communion with the divine or spiritual is often present, whether in overt or symbolic form. Most importantly, there is frequently a theme of martyrdom, death and resurrection in the Christ-figure’s story, as they give their life to save or help others, and return from this seeming death redeemed. Not every Christ-figure possesses every single one of these qualities, and in many cases different qualities come to the fore, but these will do for a jumping-off point. Multiple characters in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban fulfill some aspects of being Christ-like, so we shouldn’t assume right off the bat that it’s the protagonist. Taking a moment to examine some of the other candidates will help us place the issue in context. Sirius Black has a number of Christ-like qualities, most especially in the key theme of a sinless man being tortured for the sake of others. Black suffers twelve years of torturous agony in Azkaban, the wizard prison, for a crime he did not commit. He emerges bearded and dressed in simple rags, making him the best candidate on visual grounds. He is pursued relentlessly by the authorities, one of Baugh’s listed qualifications, and he offers Harry a happy life as his adopted ward, if Harry is willing to accept this ragged stranger into his heart. The analogy to Christ’s offer of heaven need not be belabored. True, nowhere in the Gospels does Jesus turn into a giant dog, but we need not be too literalist. The argument against Black, however, is that in the end he doesn’t really save anyone. His soul is almost stolen by the dementors, and he must be rescued by Harry. By two Harries, in fact, due to the time-travel shenanigans of the film’s last act. He also lacks the mysterious origins of a Christ-figure in Baugh’s definition, springing quite documentably from a well-known and notoriously evil family of wizards. An interesting Christ analogy lies in a character never seen on screen: Harry’s late father, James. He certainly clashed with authorities a great deal as a youth, as one of the original creators of the Marauder’s Map, and he also dedicated himself to opposing an unjust system, spending his adulthood fighting Lord Voldemort. Most importantly, James Potter had a terrible incident in his life that only comes to light in this movie: he was in hiding from his enemies and was betrayed to them by his best friend. Anyone not reminded of Judas’s infamous kiss on Christ’s cheek can’t have been paying much attention to the Gospels. Obviously, James is not the central Christ-figure of the narrative, but it remains an interesting parallel, particularly in light of the incident in the film where Harry believes that he is going to meet his deceased father, only to discover that the figure he believed to be James was, in fact, himself. This brings us to Harry, who really is the central Christ-figure in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, and not just because his name is in the title. Harry neatly meets all of the qualifications Baugh outlined, as listed above, and has a couple of other key points that strengthen the resemblance. Harry possesses the requisite mysterious origins, though they are not fully explained in Prisoner of Azkaban, it being the third film in a series. He began as an orphan of uncertain parentage, who discovered that he had a great and prophesied destiny, and that he was known as “the boy who lived,” famous for surviving what should have been a spell of certain death. In other words, Harry’s very first notable quality is that he defeated death. Jesus saved that for the capstone of his career, but in Harry’s case, it’s the first item in his backstory. Harry does, as Baugh suggests, gather around him a group of followers, most notably Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, who in the film are depicted as his fast friends and loyal companions. Even others feel a sense of loyalty and devotion to Harry, though, as in the scene where Fred and George Weasley hand over their greatest treasure, the Marauder’s Map, to Harry because his “need is greater,” in their words. As to the Christ-figure’s opposition to injustice, much of the driving force of the narrative in Prisoner of Azkaban is about clearing the name of an innocent man, and surviving the attacks of the dementors, the terrifying enforcers of the official will. The theme of unjust prejudice and oppression is also addressed, via the character of Remus Lupin, a wonderfully talented wizard and teacher who has difficulty finding work, because people don’t trust those afflicted with lycanthropy. At the end of the film, Remus is forced to leave his post at Hogwarts because of complaints from parents, an injustice Harry speaks out against, but cannot, in this case, change. Harry’s conflict with the authorities takes place on multiple levels. On a small level, of course, he and his friends gleefully defy many school rules, which are depicted as overly strict and old-fashioned, for example when Harry sneaks into Hogsmeade despite not having a signed permissions slip. Indeed, the activation phrase for the Marauder’s Map is “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” a statement that seems wicked but is in context merely anti-authoritarian. On a more serious level, Prisoner of Azkaban brings Harry into conflict with the wizard world’s justice system, as a government driven by fear of a fugitive sends dementors right up to Hogwarts itself, an official injustice that almost has tragic consequences. Harry clearly communes with a spiritual nature, as in the scene during the Quidditch match where he witnesses a frightening portent in the clouds, or the scenes of him searching within himself for the emotional and spiritual resources to summon a Patronus charm, the spell on which the climax hinges. He also consults with Professor Dumbledore, who is benevolent, all-knowing, and all-seeing, at least for the purposes of the narrative, but who does not always make his plans understood clearly. If Harry is analogous to the Son, there are certainly clear parallels between Dumbledore and the Father. Harry’s seeming death comes shortly before the film’s time-travel twist, when he refuses to abandon Sirius to the dementors, instead staying and fighting until his energy is exhausted and he collapses, seemingly doomed. When instead he wakes up, having been healed, it is then that his most important work begins. Only after having come through that experience can he do the seemingly impossible, becoming one with the figure he believed to be his father. That may be laying on the parallel a bit thick, but it’s all right there on the screen. The most important aspect of Harry as Christ-figure, though, is the dementors. To some extent, a hero is defined by his villains, and the baddies in this story are very bad indeed. Inhuman agents of a corrupt and authoritarian government, they are relentless, frightening, and generally high-octane nightmare fuel. It could be argued that the dementors are not Harry’s enemies in particular, but the story goes to some pains to establish that the creatures have a particular interest in him, and underlines this with the boggart scene, in which each student must face their worst fear. Harry’s, of course, is a dementor. All his fellow students have seen and feared the creatures, but again, Harry’s relationship to them is unique. The thing that makes dementors such an important part of Harry’s status as Christ-figure is what they do to people. They do not, technically, kill their victims. Instead, they devour and destroy a person’s soul, leaving them a living but soulless husk. In other words, the enemy that Harry must face and overcome is spiritual death. Damnation, in traditional Christian theology, is generally referred to or regarded as spiritual death, and Jesus promised that those who believed in him should, instead, have everlasting life. Not in a physical sense, of course, but in the avoidance of spiritual death. The climax of the film happens twice, as Harry seeks to save Sirius from having his soul consumed by the dementors. At first he is unable to, and seemingly dies himself, but then he comes back after this “death” and defeats them with a powerful Patronus charm. All this to save an innocent person from spiritual death. To sum up, in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Harry and his band of followers fulfill prophecies by defeating physical death, saving the innocent, refusing to kill an enemy in Peter Pettigrew, and finally coming back after seemingly certain death in order to save an innocent soul. Some might say that it’s a bit of a stretch to call Harry Potter a Christ-figure, but in light of the above-listed events, it seems if anything a bit too on-the-nose. Works Cited Baugh, Lloyd. Imaging the Divine: Jesus and Christ-figures in Film. New York: Sheed and Ward, 1997. Read More