Stranger Than Fiction has some very interesting theological elements, but discussing them requires totally spoiling the ending. Consider yourself warned.
Stranger Than Fiction is the story of Harold Crick, a dull IRS agent who find he's a character in a novel when he begins hearing an author's voice narrating his life. Anxiety about the voice leads him to transform his life, becoming a kinder and happier person even while sinking into the belief that his life is doomed to end in tragedy.
And it is, because Karen Eiffel, his author, has worked out all the details of her story except for the exact manner of Harold's death. But when she discovers he's real, she has second thoughts about her story's until-then inevitable ending. Harold's death—which will not actually occur until she types it from her handwritten notes—will make her book a tragic masterpiece. But is a masterpiece worth it if a likeable innocent has to die for it?
In the end, Eiffel does change her ending, giving Harold a new lease on life (albeit after a few weeks in traction):
"Because it's a book about a man who doesn't know he's about to die, and then dies. But if the man does know he's going to die and dies anyway, dies willingly, knowing he could stop it, then, I mean, isn't that the type of man you want to keep alive?"It's unsurprising for a movie about the ways in which authors manipulate their character's lives to compare the writer to God. What's more interesting here is the messianic tone that this approach then lends to the character in question. Here God, the third person omniscient narrator, can't see the point in needlessly killing his favorite character, so he gives him a second chance. It's an aesthetic theology of the resurrection—Jesus as the character who was too darned nice to have a sad ending. It's also a critique of Vonnegutian authorial cruelty in which the author toys with fictional lives simply because he can. The characters, fictional or otherwise, are in some way alive and worthy of respect—and of a happy ending.