Lights, Camera, Introspection: Soul-Searching Via DVD Club

Janelle Washburne was deep in conversation the other day when a friend rudely interrupted. Washburne was about to return the attitude when, unexpectedly, she found her inner Zen.

She credits her newfound restraint to the Spiritual Cinema Circle, promoted as “the world’s first transformational DVD-of-the-month club.”

Founded in March 2004 by former Hollywood producer Stephen Simon, the circle sends subscribers four films each month, usually a feature, shorts and a documentary. Most are little-known; some are foreign; nearly all are low-budget.

The theme common to every film: “You feel better about being human after you see it,” Simon said.

About 21,000 film buffs subscribe to the Spiritual Cinema Circle at $21 a month. Uncounted others belong to one of the 200 viewing clubs that have formed in towns of every size, including Los Angeles; New York; Richland, Iowa; Miami; West Jordan, Utah; Boston; and Anniston, Ala.

Here in Denver, half a dozen spiritual seekers meet monthly to watch the films and ponder the discussion questions Simon appends to each DVD. They’re usually joined by 10 to 15 guests. Fortified by microwave popcorn, the group seeks inspiration in films that value soul over special effects -- films that “tell us about ourselves as we really are, not some glorified Hollywood version of us,” said Washburne, who founded the Denver club last spring.

Simon claims expertise in plucking such movies out of obscurity by virtue of two of his own films. In “Somewhere in Time,” released in 1980, Christopher Reeve wills himself into history and falls in love with a turn-of-the-century actress. “What Dreams May Come,” from 1998, stars Robin Williams as a man who risks his spot in heaven to rescue his wife from hell.

Both movies drew tepid critical reviews, but earned praise from fans who saw them as heartwarming tributes to the power of love. Simon proudly calls both films deeply spiritual. Then there is the rest of his resume: “Smokey and the Bandit”; “Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure”; “Body of Evidence,” starring Madonna, which audiences jeered.

“I had to make a living,” Simon said. “I always had a deep crisis of conscience about it.”

Four years ago, he decided he’d had enough; he quit Los Angeles and moved to Ashland, Ore., where he lives with his yellow Lab, Punky. He wrote a book exploring the “mystical messages” behind popular movies. He made a documentary on psychic children.

Then inspiration struck: Simon and a friend decided to start a DVD-of-the-month club to promote the type of movie he admires but can’t find at most multiplexes.

Simon acknowledges a danger that the films he finds spiritual, others might deem sappy. He picks only movies with uplifting endings, so they often feel formulaic. He goes out of his way to pick films from novice directors, so they’re not always polished.

Still, the DVD circle has been successful enough to provide most of the financing for Simon’s next movie, a $2 million adaptation of “Conversations With God,” the best-selling book series by Neale Donald Walsch. Simon is also planning a second Spiritual Cinema Festival-at-Sea -- a week of snorkeling and screenings on a cruise to the Mexican Riviera.

Simon’s subscribers also come from China, Croatia, South Africa and dozens of other nations. His primary audience, however, is from the 24% of Americans who described themselves in a Newsweek poll last summer as “spiritual but not religious.”

Simon and his acquisitions director, Anna Darrah, scour film festivals for works that might provoke introspection and inspire insight. Filmmakers receive as little as $500 for a one-month licensing agreement -- yet they swamp Darrah with submissions.

“This is an audience that will get it, that will be appreciative,” said Alice Elliott, a documentary filmmaker whose work has been featured. “They’re not sending it to people who would prefer to watch sports.”

When his short film was sent out on a club DVD, first-time director Geno Andrews heard praise from viewers worldwide. Some even asked if they could use “Jillian’s Vantage” -- about a blind woman’s blind date -- to teach tolerance. “It’s been encouraging as an artist,” Andrews said.

Supporting artists who make films without violence, sex and foul language was a top priority for Washburne when she founded the Denver club. The group met at first in her living room but soon outgrew the space; now she rents a conference room at the Rocky Mountain Miracle Center downtown.

The venue is nothing special: plastic chairs, old sofas, cushions on the floor, the movie playing on a 26-inch TV. But regulars say they find it deeply satisfying -- even therapeutic -- to discuss the movies with friends and strangers.

A screening of the comedy “Baptists at Our Barbecue,” for instance, prompted a conversation about the superficial categories used to divide people: Democrat and Republican, white and black, Baptist and Mormon.

“It reminded me how we too often [see only] what we expect from the people we interact with,” said Shaun Furlong, 52, a Web designer. He’s caught himself stereotyping those he meets; remembering the movie, he makes an effort to stop.

Furlong co-hosts the monthly screenings and moderates the discussions. On a recent evening, he offered around tissues before showing “Touching Wild Horses,” starring Jane Seymour as a curmudgeon who takes in her emotionally scarred nephew -- and learns to love.

The movie was a bit heavy-handed, complete with a Grim Reaper galloping through the boy’s dreams. Aunt Fiona was given to philosophical truisms: “Bad things happen. You deal with them.” “Life’s not fair. Get used to it.” The ending tied every loose thread in a bright, happy bow.

As the lights went up, Pat Ryan, 43, slipped out. “I don’t want to ruin everyone’s evening by saying what I think,” he whispered. (His opinion: “The acting was crappy and the story was slapdash.”)

Those who remained to talk were more forgiving, though Paul Drda, 43, did have a question for the group: “What did you find spiritual about this?”

Drda, who works in information technology, said he would describe the film as “self-help, healing, therapy, feel-good ... but to me, that’s not spiritual. Or maybe that’s just me?”

Apparently, it was.

“Fiona was very upfront about everything,” said John Lowe, 38, a software engineer. “That seemed like a spiritual attribute: being honest, forthright, not worrying about being politically correct.”

Accountant Tammy Robb said she felt spiritually moved by the wild mustangs at the center of the film. “It was OK to just sit and experience their beauty,” said Robb, 41. “That was a nice lesson.”

A regular at the Denver group, Robb said she had tried watching some of the spiritual movies at home but had fallen asleep. Watching with a group, she said, was teaching her patience and concentration. “I’m in a different head space when I’m here,” she said. “I can watch movies like this now! Next is poetry.”

As for Washburne, she walked away with an appreciation for how even the most abrasive souls might have a heart of gold. Which is why she did not snap at the friend who interrupted her conversation.

“The movie taught me not to judge by appearances, because you don’t always know where other people are coming from,” Washburne said. “I’m trying to be more loving and understanding to everyone ... even when they’re a pain in the neck.”