I am not a frequent moviegoer and don’t generally blog about them, but I need to make an exception for The End of the Spear, which I saw with my two older sons this weekend. If you grew up in an evangelical church, then likely you know the basic story — Nate Saint, Jim Elliot, and three other American missionaries were slaughtered by the murderous Waodani tribe the very first time they met in the Ecuadoran Amazon. What you may not know is the rest of the story of what the widows and Nate’s 8-year-old son Steve did afterward, and the incredible intertwinings of the families of the slain missionaries and the very warriors who killed them. The film develops the story from both sides through the eyes of Steve and key members of the Waodani, treating the tribe with dignity and compassion — the film was made with their cooperation and permission — and showing both the passion and the pain of the missionaries. The story spans fifty years to bring the adult Steve back to an unexpected 1994 confrontation with the people who made him fatherless.
This is not the missionary story as told in Sunday school. A lot of people die in the film, and while not gut-wrenching in gore, they don’t die quickly nor painlessly. “Spearing makes us strong,” says the main Waodani character, who lives in an endless cycle of ambush and revenge. My sons, 16 and 13ish, agreed the depiction of violence was comparable to Gods and Generals and less gruesome than Lord of the Rings, but because it is so easy to indentify with the families — what child hasn’t been afraid that Daddy might not come home, or had nightmares of running from vicious people — the emotional impact is greater. We wouldn’t recommend it for younger kids.
It’s a powerful story, well told and beautifully filmed — I’ve got to say two thumbs up, and if I had more I’d give them too.
Oh, and don’t leave when the credits roll — there are several clips of the real Steve Saint, from the companion film Beyond the Gates of Splendor, telling stories of the times he brought a Waodani warrior to the U.S.
Wad some pow’r the giftie gie us/to see oursel’s as others see us, you know.