Touched By An Angel

"Restoration"

Originally aired November 5th, 2000

This show is not everyone's cup of tea; it always builds to a climactic tear-jerker of a scene, which, by the time it arrives, can take you off guard and be surprisingly effective. I find a little goes a long way, but I rather liked this particular episode for dealing in a straightforward way with Hollywood's social responsibilites and the impact it can have on the spiritual life without invoking the usual partisan name-calling and moral posturing. It's creator, Martha Williamson, is a born-again christian and a liberal, who wanted to creat a spiritual show that could inspire its viewers outside the traditional realm of sectarian politics. "Restoration" can be seen, then, as a dramatization of the creator's own mission, in a way that Noelle's character would find very "existential". This episode is a little reminiscent of "Ernest Saves Christmas", and was written by R. J. Colleary, who's been with "Touched By An Angel" since its first season (in 1994), and comes from a background of situation comedies, as can be seen by its humorous give and take between the two main guest stars. Noelle once again plays a woman cynical before her time and confronting Hollywood's myths. Her performance is more upbeat, on the surface at least, than her appearance would suggest, but her inner darkness slowly emerges as she begins to confront her own personal myths.

The original meaning of "Angel" is messenger, and for eons, Monica Wings (Roma Downey), was an Angel of Annunciation, appearing before God's chosen audience to deliver His message to them. Recently (around the beginning of the twentieth century), she was promoted: she could take on human form and interact with mankind. She could deliver God's healing message in her own words. But humanity can be hard to figure out. Helping her is an older, more experienced Angel, Tess (Della Reese), who's learned a thing or two about navigating the rocky shoals of the human heart.

Beneath the colorful spires of the historic Mann's Chinese Movie Theater come the hordes of cinema fans from around the world, to gaze at their favorite movie stars' footprints immortalized in cement. Along its sidewalks lies the "Walk of Fame", where the most celebrated of Tinsletown's heroes are paid tribute with stars placed in their honor.

Amongst this ignorant throng, strides a woman who is not distracted by the multitude's fickle taste in mindless entertainment. Oblivious to them all, she sticks to the path of Mary Pickford and Rudolph Valentino . . .

She embodies the spirit of another age, when movies were black and white, silent except for the improvised score of a live organist, and created by directors who were truly artists, in a time when a film could rightly be said to have a single, guiding genius.

The silent era's greatest filmmaker was a man of uncompromising vision, whose relentlessly bleak subject matter could not be contained by any studio head, and whose conviction never lost strength throughout a prolific career of 72 films. He was Chandler Crowne, known by his peers, and historians, as "the King" of the silents.

Sadly, even those who are old enough, and lucky enough, to have seen his movies during their first run, don't have such fond memories of his films. "He's the one who made all those depressing movies," whispers one elderly gentleman, standing over his star, while his wife tries to remember where she heard the name before. Standing in front of them, however, is his greatest living disciple: Stevie Noonan: film grad student.

She's devoted her life to studying his themes and memorizing his dialogue. She's even based her appearance on his movies: she's done herself over in black and white, dressed in a heavy knit sweater and gown to her ankles in spite of the warm desert air; she's adopted the classic look of gothic cinema. She wears a necklace that bears the two-headed axe, a sign that she's prepared to take on all comers. Crowne himself stopped making movies before her parents were born, but she haunts the modern world like his ghost, determined to make sure it does not forget that brief time when movies could tell the truth: "They're prophetic metaphors for an unforgiving world," she tells people. But they won't, or can't listen, so she shoos them away, to set up her camera and record the final scene of her thesis documentary, "the one surviving tribute to a great man."

Observing Stevie set up her camera, Monica has her own unpleasant memories of Chandler Crowne. He was one of her first assignments as a full-fledged Angel, and it did not go well. Failure has a longer memory than success for Monica. "It's not failure", Tess replies, "some assignments take longer than others."
"Makes you wonder what God was waiting for", thinks Monica.
"Oh, I know what God was waiting for", Tess answers, pointing to Stevie. "He was waiting for her!"