The films of Judd Apatow: medicine for modern libertines

I’m sure we all have met Judd Apatow in some way: whether through the films he’s directed (The 40-Year-Old Virgin, Knocked Up, Funny People, This Is Forty) or his television shows (Freaks and Geeks, Undeclared). He’s had his hand in many other projects as well; and a number of actors to whom he gave a start have become famous and productive in their own right: Seth Rogen, James Franco, Paul Rudd, Jason Segel, and probably others.

Judd Apatow is no saint and, as far as I know, no Christian. But his movies are medicine for modern libertines.

When I was growing up we had a dog. Sometimes she got sick and we had to give her medicine in pill form. She would not take them on their own. But if we hid them in her dog food, she would eat them contentedly.

Modern libertines (though I try not to be one, I include myself here) are profoundly ill—sick in spirit—but do not want to take the medicine that can help them. We spit it out if we taste it. We prefer dog food, and increasingly dog food is the only taste we want. To people in such a state, our medicine has to come hidden in dog food.

Well, the modern unabashed sex-comedy is one brand of dog food, which Judd Apatow specializes in making. But inside, medicine is resident.

Take The 40-Year-Old Virgin. Although I enjoy this film immensely, I do not think I could recommend it anymore. It is full of foul language and inflammatory sexual scenes. This is the dog food: the crude jokes, the world of judgment-free license that most of the characters inhabit—who unashamedly view pornography, masturbate, smoke dope, sleep around, speak in the crudest terms about women, have affairs (okay a little shame there), and so on.

But then look at what the movie is really about. Steve Carell’s character Andy is forty years old and a virgin. Most of the action of the movie is based on his friends’ thinking that this is a tragic misfortune and that the best thing they can do for him is help him to lose his virginity. Meanwhile it becomes clear that Andy is a much better person than any of his friends, not only in moral behaviour but also in maturity. (He also does not curse, which in film and television is one of the marks of specially virtuous people.) His sole failing appears to be shyness and lack of ambition, and once he overcomes this he succeeds brilliantly to the point that he surpasses his friends in his success at work and in his romantic relationships. He also appears happier than any of them (with the sole possibly exception of Seth Rogen’s character who is not so much happy as contentedly detached). The other two friends are unhappy and insecure, creating messes of their relationships. In the end, though Andy could have had sex at several points, including with his serious girlfriend, he chooses to remain a virgin until he marries her. And when they finally get married, the sex scene does not conform to the expectation of his friends (and the common stereotype in our culture) that because he is a virgin the sex will be terrible, embarassing, and unsatisfying. He and his wife are thoroughly happy, and the movie ends, of all things, with a joyful dance scene. And all this without being the slightest bit preachy or hamfisted.

The movie shows that remaining a virgin until marriage can be a good thing; the marital sex can still be satisfying right from the start; and waiting might actually contribute to having a better relationship and to being a better, more whole, more happy person.

In sum, the movie’s heart is utterly un-politically correct. You can test it for yourself: take the line above, and imagine using it to pitch a movie to a Hollywood film studio. Imagine using it to advertise the film. Do you think it would have made many millions? Wouldn’t it more likely be mocked and dismissed as a ‘religious’ film?

And therein lies the genius of Apatow. The foul language, sexual content, crude jokes, and judgment-free world are the dog food that we all love. If the movie was just the pill, we couldn’t take it—we’d spit it out. But we mow down on the dog food and get the medicine, too.

Catholics talk sometimes about the importance of evangelizing through beauty. It’s profoundly true. Through this movie, the audience sees a glimpse of the beauty of virginity and of a moral life. And because the movie is not preachy or moralistic, just a crude sex comedy, they see it with their guard down and are open to receiving it. In fact, I think part of their success comes because Judd Apatow is not a Christian and is not trying to transmit a wholesome message. I suspect that he is just making the films he feels like making, and that he happens to be attracted to virtue—for which God be praised.

The Forty-Year-Old Virgin is not Judd Apatow’s only creation, of course, but it is probably the most medicinal of them all. Knocked Up is similar to The Forty-Year-Old Virgin, but with a smaller element of evangelism through beauty. I have not seen the later movies, but I suspect that the proportion of dog food is increasing with time and the medicine content becoming less. The television shows exhibit this trend. Undeclared, the more recent show, is nothing I would specially praise—it’s a bit raunchy, though tame by today’s standards, and a bit more virtuous than most television, but nothing remarkable. Freaks and Geeks, however, is a work of genius and I would even call it Thoroughly Good; I expect I will have more to say about it another time.

My last word on Judd Apatow is this. His films are not such that I can wholeheartedly recommend them because of their sexual content and their foul language, both of which my conscience resists bringing into my home. Nevertheless I am happy that they exist. Apatow in his raunchiness does something that Christians maybe cannot do today. He makes Trojan Horses: the raunchiness conceals within the soldiers of Good. His films show the beauty of virtue to people who would reject it otherwise. They are medicine for modern libertines.