Maya stands in the doorway, mouth quivering, staring her father in the eye. But Henk Rogers doesn’t notice, locked onto his wife, Akemi, as he frustratedly explains how they’ve lost everything.
As a docudrama, Tetris hits all the right notes. Well-acted, individualized characters living an unbelievable true tale. And the film achieves its primary purpose – telling an ’80s story in a fun way. But our focus is on the meaningful subplot theorizing that our sociopolitical environment affects our relational behavior.
Soviet programmer Alexey Patjitov (played by Nikita Efremov) creates the Tetris videogame in his family’s rundown apartment. But Alexey doesn’t want notoriety or wealth, instead he happily distributes the game to his comrades around the U.S.S.R. He offers escapism for free – four falling squares at a time. Communism in action.
Word of the addictive game makes its way West where companies begin snatching up rights. Henk Rogers (Taron Egerton) becomes enamored with the game, securing Tetris rights in Japan. Capitalism in action. And if two hours of distribution rights sound boring, screenwriter Noah Pink and director Jon S. Baird make it anything but.
Although the filmmakers stay on course, in some ways the videogame story is secondary, almost a McGuffin. It would be impossible to tell this story of a profitable product coming out of the Soviet Union to be sold in the West during the Cold War, without focusing on economic systems. However, the story could have been told without the family dynamics. Sure, how parents interact with children can make the audience love or hate the characters and can add dramatic tension, but I found the interpersonal relationships woven through the sociopolitical narrative fascinating.
Tetris tells a story set in the ’80s and therefore it must compare Capitalism to Communism. It clearly depicts the Soviet Union’s final death throes as its citizens realize how far from the ideal they are. But a Western audience cheering for Communism’s downfall may miss the indictments against Capitalism; a propensity toward greed, individualism, narcissism, and so on. In fact, many Westerners may not view these as negative attributes, or may simply justify why these are acceptable.
And that’s the genius of Tetris tying interpersonal relationships to economic systems. A comparison of economic systems to family life is more important than a “simple” analysis of sociopolitical institutions alone. Because relationships are eternal. In Tetris, Henk’s relationship with his daughter Maya (Kanon Narumi) and Alexey’s connection with his sons resonate with what the audience subconsciously knows is the preeminent subject.
Henk exemplifies the self-made, workaholic father. Even as he promises Maya that he’ll attend her recital, we suspect he will miss it. Whereas Alexey leads a quiet life, home right after work, present and attentive to his family.
However, the film is balanced. Henk, for all his freedom, is discontent and often absent. Alexey lives in fear of the KGB and feels a creative suffocation, causing a faint hopelessness to permeate his psyche. But the film’s sociopolitical/relational assessments ignore an individual’s spiritual dimension.
When we cut off our life source in God we become two-dimensional, consistently discontent and spiritually malnourished. Gorging ourselves on greedy, self-serving behaviors or obsession with sociopolitical concerns doesn’t compensate, it means we’re starving our spirit (even if we deny its existence). Therefore, in order to be content and healthy and in God’s will, our social and relational worldviews must be saturated with a biblical worldview.
I’m not advocating for Christians to attempt the Old Testament’s agrarian/trade system (a moral case can be made for tying this to responsible Capitalism), although debt forgiveness and modernized edge-of-field gleaning (pe’ah) practices could be beneficial. But as we consider balancing our socioeconomic inclinations with our paramount relational responsibilities, a reminder of New Testament love and respect is in order.
Amy Sherman’s Agents of Flourishing, offers a framework to participate in God’s redemptive mission in six spheres of civilized life. In a section on sacrificial stewardship, Sherman explains, “The way of Jesus’ kingdom requires recognizing that we are not the ultimate owners of what we possess. This contrasts with both secular teaching on the rights of private property and on much functional teaching in the contemporary church, wherein we can largely do what we want with the 90 percent of our money left over after tithing.”
This means we seek the best for others, not just as feel-good philanthropy or basic charity but as biblical justice. Using our money as generous justice is only one of our offering responsibilities, others include time, resources, prayer, service (and more). Certainly these are meant to benefit others outside our relatives, but there are few better examples of recipients who can benefit from every facet of our tithe, than our families.
Henk was fixated on obtaining Tetris rights in order to provide for his family. But the journey was at the expense of his family. As mentioned in this article’s introduction, in the third act Henk loses everything – rights to Tetris, distribution deals, and an opportunity with Nintendo’s unreleased Gameboy. In a rage, he smashes his home phone as Akemi (Ayane Nagabuchi) and Maya enter. Akemi, mouth agape, says, “You missed your daughter’s concert.” Henk angrily asks why his wife gives him grief over missing a performance when they have nothing left. Distraught, Maya runs from the room. Henk halfheartedly calls after her immediately explaining to his wife, “I did this because I am trying to build a life for us.” “We had a life,” Akemi pointedly retorts.
Like Henk, we can lie, telling ourselves we work long hours in order to provide for our family. I’ve known many people who, in retrospect, wish they’d spent time with their children rather than on overtime. Again, Amy Sherman exudes words of wisdom: “A third revolutionary idea that Christianity advanced was a countercultural view of children. In his book How Children Became Persons, historian O. M. Bakke…cites Chrysostom, who urged those in Constantinople to “let everything take second place to our care for our children, our bringing them up in the discipline and instruction of the Lord . . .”
Political party affiliation or profits or even ministry is not the primary calling for adults. The chief mindset is an obedience to Jesus’ relational requirements of training the coming generation.
Henk’s parenting choices are integral to the story’s throughline, but although not central, Alexey’s parenting decisions are equally important. Alexey has two or three scenes with his young sons but each one shows him being a lovingly present father. Eventually the boys are leveraged and threatened by the government but that galvanizes Alexey’s resolve to do what’s right. These decisions come at great personal danger and cost, yet Alexey learns standing up for justice is certainly more important than four connected squares, and more important than government loyalty.
I imagine most viewers would miss the implications of the Soviet programmer’s rebellion. Alexey’s brave (some might call irresponsible) actions taught his sons to stand for what they believe no matter the cost. This reminded me of a principle I gently taught my kids from an early age: standing for Jesus is prioritized above all else. Most Christians will contentedly nod at this statement. But as my kids grew older, when they had a firm grasp on how much I loved them, I explained the ramifications of what complete dedication to Jesus meant. And this is where I will lose some readers.
If someone held a gun to my head giving my children the ultimatum of denying Jesus, I want my kids to stand for Him. The converse is even more disturbing and something I still struggle with: could I stand for Jesus if a gun was pointed at my kids? In truth, I don’t know. To Western ears, this may sound radicalized or cultish or venturing toward parental abuse, but I wonder what else Jesus could mean by “whoever disowns me before others, I will disown before my Father in heaven” (Matthew 10:33).
This just went to an unexpectedly dark place. Nevertheless, important, I believe. This comes down to how we define Jesus’ love, through a lens of biblical, generous justice. To give one’s life to model Jesus’ example (1 Peter 2:21) and for the sake of someone else.
Alexey spends the majority of Tetris submissive, believing this ensures his family’s health and safety. But because of his government’s policies, when forced into an ethical dilemma, he does what is right and rescues a foreigner. Henk spends the majority of the film as a likable, compulsive overachiever who winds up a foreigner in need of rescue. Some might say both men were irresponsible, inconsiderately putting their families at risk
We must acknowledge that Henk and Alexey come from different cultures with vastly different ideologies. And they have different types of decisions to make. I don’t doubt, through the course of the entire film, that both characters love their families. And both fathers seemed to learn their lessons. Certainly they learned to be brave and present and got Tetris to market and became rich. All tied up nicely with a narrative bow.
And yet, when Pet Shop Boy’s “Opportunities (Let’s Make Lots of Money)” aptly plays as credits roll, we’re left a little empty. It would seem that’s because, for we real, three dimensional adults, denying our spiritual side will always breed discontentment and malnourishment. Regardless of our sociopolitical systems, if we live out true Christianity – lovingly applying spiritual gifts, actively seeking the betterment of others through biblical justice, and what Chrysostom called “care for our children” – our relationships will profit. Otherwise, it’s like forcing four connected squares into a round hole.