Return of of Nun Month: Viridiana

Viridiana (1961)
Prior to this blog, I had a general interest blog (okay, my interests blog) in which I -- more often than not --wrote about movies. For the Return of Nun Month, I thought I ought to dig up a post I wrote for that blog back in December of 2009. It's about one of the great nun (anti-nun?) films of all time. You can decide if my writing has improved or degraded.

To summarize the first paragraph of the original post, I wrote that though I usually wrote about Christmas films at that time of year, I'd decided to do something rather different. Here's the rest of the post:

Instead, I’m going to write about an anti-Christmas film (really an anti-Christian film, but we’ll see that in this context it’s the same thing). Most films that attack the Christian faith take a safer route than the film I’m going to discuss. Many films, Elmer Gantry for example, attack the clergy. Well, most Christians are willing to admit that all have sinned, and there are more than a few scoundrels that have abused their roles as evangelists, pastors, and priests. Some filmmakers (such as the Pythons when they publicized The Life of Brian) claim that they have no problem with faith itself, just with “organized religion. I see very little virtue to the apparent alternative of “chaotic religion.”

Viridiana, filmed in Spain in 1961 by the acclaimed writer/director Luis Bunuel, takes a much bolder stand. It attacks Christianity on the grounds that acts of charity and compassion are futile and without worth.

The film tells the story of a young novice (Silvia Pinal), instructed by her Mother Superior to visit her uncle before she takes her vows. She has up until then had little contact with the uncle who financially supported her.

She obeys and visits her uncle, Don Jaime (Fernando Rey), at his vast but decaying estate and finds him to be a man of rather depraved tastes. He tells Viridiana that she reminds him of his late wife and asks the much younger woman to marry him. When she refuses him, he drugs her coffee and takes advantage of her (to an unclear degree). After this incident, the uncle kills himself, presumably due to his feelings of guilt.

Viridiana learns she has inherited her uncle’s estate, but it is to be shared with her uncle’s illegitimate son, Jorge (Francisco Rabal). Like his father, Jorge is a man who pursues pleasure above all else.

Viridiana decides to open the estate to the poor in the village, inviting the blind, the crippled, and the destitute, but they take advantage of her hospitality, staging a party in the house that becomes not just an orgy, but a mockery of the Last Supper.

In one of the film’s famed sequences, we see Jorge attempting to perform an act of kindness. He sees a man dragging a dog chained to a wagon. Jorge buys the dog from the man so he will no longer be abused. But we then see another man, another wagon, and another dog even more greatly abused. The implication is that any act of charity can only change a minute fraction of the evil in the world. The film implies that those who are charitable will be betrayed and abused, while no lasting good will come of any of it. Better to "eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we will die."

These charges come as no surprise to anyone who knows Scripture. Jesus acknowledged there would never be an end to need when He said, "The poor you will always have with you" (Mark 14:7). His entire ministry is an example of generosity received with ingratitude, betrayal, and violence, but he came to save His enemies (Romans 5: 7 - 8). He came in the flesh that first Christmas, knowing that He had come to die. His viewpoint was bigger than ours. He knew that after the cross would come the resurrection. We can know that acts of compassion are not futile because every gift we give in His name, He receives (Matthew 25:40).

One bit of business before we close up here. At the time I wrote this, over a decade ago, I was not rating clergy and churches with our Steeple system. I recently rewatched the film and found out the church and clergy really come out rather well. The Mother Superior has genuine compassion not only for Viridiana but also for the girl’s uncle. When she hears about the uncle’s suicide from a local parish priest, she hurries with other nuns to be at Viridaina’s side.

Viridiana never takes her vows, so never officially becomes “clergy,” but she is a woman of compassion trying to care for the needs of the poor. Unfortunately, she works outside of the policies and strictures of the church which might have allowed her to act more prudently. Still, she is our primary near-clergy figure in the film, and her foolishness keeps her from our highest rating, giving her a Three Steeple rating.

Robert Mitchum Movie Month: Ryan's Daughter

Ryan's Daughter (1970)

David Lean was one of the greatest filmmakers, and he made two kinds of films very well. At the beginning of his career he made small, intimate stories, adaptations of the works of great writers such as Noel Coward (Blithe Spirit, Brief Encounter) and Charles Dickens (Great Expectations, Oliver Twist). In the second half of his career, he made epics telling great historical stories like The Bridge Over the River Kwai (World War II), Lawrence of Arabia (World War I), and Doctor Zhivago (the Russian Revolution).

Ryan’s Daughter is an odd chapter in his career. It tells a small, intimate story in an epic fashion. When the film premiered in 1970, the roadshow edition (in 70mm with a prelude and intermission) was 206 minutes long and was sold as an epic. But really, when you get down to it, it’s a tawdry, little love triangle set in Ireland not long after the Easter Rising (an armed insurrection in Ireland against the British).

Critics widely considered the film a disappointment after Best Picture winners like Kwai and Lawrence; though it was profitable, it wasn’t as huge a hit as, say, Dr. Zhivago. Still, we’re not here to evaluate the film, we’re here to look at the clergy and churches in it. And this film, set in a small Irish town, does have a priest. And since it’s Robert Mitchum month, the actor has the lead performance as a school teacher and cuckolded husband.

The role of the priest in the film, Father Collins, was written for Alec Guinness, but Guinness turned down the role because of his recent conversion to Roman Catholicism. He felt the role was not an accurate portrayal of his new faith, so he said no. Instead, Trevor Howard plays the priest.

Father Collins serves as the moral authority of Kirrary, an Irish country town, in 1917. When villagers taunt and mock Michael, the "village idiot” (John Mills in an Oscar winning performance), the priest shames them for picking on the weak. He rather violently pulls a couple of men away from Michael by their ears.

The priest not only tries to protect Michael, he tries to teach him as well. When Father Collins finds Michael on the beach, tearing the leg off a live lobster, Collins says, “I’ve told you Michael, they’re God’s creatures.”

The priest seems to have a relationship with everyone in the town and everyone that comes to town. He is brought into the school to lead the children in prayer. He gets along with the gun runners struggling in the cause of Irish independence and seems sympathetic to their cause -- if not their methods. He also treats the British soldiers who occupy the town with respect.

But I haven’t mentioned the central character, the title character of the film, Ryan’s daughter, Rosy (Sarah Miles). The priest’s relationship with her is one of the most interesting in the film, and it’s difficult. Rosy is intelligent and curious and quite obviously wants more from life than her little town has to offer. Father Collins finds her on the beach and reprimands her, “What do you do, Rose, mooning around all day by yourself?” She tells him she’s not doing anything, and he responds, “Your nothing’s a dangerous occupation.”

The priest sees only one option for the young woman: to find a husband. He tells Thomas Ryan, Rose’s father, “You’ll ruin that girl. She needs a house enough of her own. A fella of her own.” Collins takes time alone with Rose to teach her about marriage as a Sacrament, for the “procreation of children and bring them up as good Catholics.”

Rose is a virgin and fearful of sex. He tells her, “don’t be scared of the satisfaction of the flesh, though that not a gate I’ve been through.”

Rose does find a husband, Charles Shaughnessy, the village school teacher (as mentioned before, played by man-of-the-month Mitchum). Charles is the only person in town who seems to have traveled (at least as far as Dublin) and who has broad interests (such as in German composers, like Beethoven, a dangerous area of study during World War I). The teacher is many years older than Rose, but Father Collins is quite supportive of the match.

Charles is kind to Rose, but she isn’t satisfied with the physical aspect of their relationship. She isn’t satisfied with her new life, and she tells Father Collins as much, leading to this exchange as they walk along the beach:

Father Collins: You’ve got a good man? Enough money? Your health? There’s nothing more, you graceless girl.
Rose: There must be more.
Father Collins slaps Rose, knocking her to the sand
Collins: Don’t nurse your wishes. You can’t help having them, but don’t nurse them or sure to God you’ll have what you’re wishing for.

Nonetheless, Rose continues not only to nurse her dreams, but she begins an affair with a British soldier, Major Randolph Doryan, whose leg was maimed in the war. His injury sent him away from the German front and to Ireland. They meet secretly on the beach, but Michael sees them and lets the secret out in the village.

The people of the village hate the British and are disgusted and outraged with Rose. A mob attacks her, ripping off her clothes. Once again Father Collins intervenes. He protects Rose from the crowd, punching one of her attackers. The man says, “You’re taking advantage of your cloth, Father!”

He responds, “That’s what it’s for.”

Rose’s affair with the soldier ends. Charles and Rose decide to leave the village, thinking of separating. Father Collins urges them to stay together, and as the film ends they seem to be considering his advice.

There is so much good in Father Collins’ work in the village, but he does “take advantage of the cloth,” resorting to violence and other heavy handed methods. Surely there would be a better counselor for Rose than he. In our times, he perhaps would, and certainly should, be removed from ministry for hitting a parishioner.

Many might think priests have little wisdom to offer in the area of marriage and romance, but they do have the wisdom of Scripture and the tradition of the Church to draw from. Still, it is understandable for people to look for a more relatable counselor.

Collins does the best he can, showing more grace and compassion than almost anyone else in the town, so he earns the Movie Churches rating of 3 Steeples.

Legal Month Guest Post: Daredevil

(Movie Churches again leaves its theater comfort zone to visit the world of churches on television. Again, Bret Anderson pitches in to review a Netflix series which features this month's theme.)

Daredevil (TV series 2015 - )

Daredevil’s first trailer (and the second scene of the series proper) starts with a shot that was once one of the grand cliches: a man in a confessional booth, admitting to the priest that it’s been too long since his last confession, then going into exposition about his past. Matt Murdock, our protagonist, talks about his family’s history of violence and Catholicism, the two counterweights in his life, leading into the grim, almost noir setup dialog that promises the viewer that things are not going to be restricted exclusively to people talking in dimly lit rooms.

“I’m not seeking penance for what I’ve done. I’m seeking forgiveness for what I’m about to do.”

It’s a big, flashy moment, showing us our protagonist is plotting something not exactly upright. In a lesser show, the scene would end there, but the first season of Daredevil isn’t stupid.

What matters just as much is the next line, from the priest:

“That’s not how this works.”

The show, with surprising religious literacy, remembers that the confessional is for past sins, and, that while saying what you’re going to do may sound cool, it’s not what the booth is for.

Daredevil season 1 cares about the act of confession beyond its role for exposition. Matt Murdock is a Catholic, however lapsed, and that means something about him as a person.

In Matt’s case, it means that he feels really guilty about how much he likes smashing people’s skulls into the pavement. He simultaneously feels that Hell’s Kitchen needs someone to act outside the law to protect its people, and that taking that such action is wrong. He believes that his actions should remain in the law (he’s a lawyer) and that the law isn’t enough (he’s also a vigilante).

The struggle could have been kept internal easily enough, but Daredevil goes a step further by not only having Matt go to a priest, but making the priest an actual, ongoing character. As the show progresses, the priest provides a confidant to Matt -- not just a generic “religious” figure, but a specific person, with his own opinions and history. The show nods at the more modern convention of open air confessions, where the parishioner can see the priest across the table rather than dealing with a distant voice of authority, and gives the main priest a past, complete with doubting doctrine, and later doubting his doubts.

The Church in Daredevil, while not able to solve all problems, is a place where people trying to be better seek to glorify God, and where people on the edge of falling can catch their last handhold.

It’s not perfect, but overall, it’s a much more positive depiction of Christianity than most drama shows, with care and consideration for the details.

Well worth the watching. Four steeples for the church and its priest.

Sports Churches -- Chariots of Fire (1981)

Let’s get this out of the way right now. Chariots of Fire should not have won the Oscar for Best Picture of 1981. That was the year of Raiders of the Lost Ark -- arguably the greatest action movie ever made and certainly one of my all time favorite films -- was released. But Raiders isn’t the “serious” kind of film that the Academy likes to honor, so even though director Hugh Hudson can’t be compared to Steven Spielberg as a director, that’s how things shake out.

Fortunately, as always, we aren’t here to discuss the merit of the film but rather the church and clergy in a film and, this month, how those elements interact with sports. And in Eric Liddell*, we have one of the greatest sports preachers of all time.

The film tells the true stories of various members of the British Olympic track team of 1924, focusing chiefly on Liddell (Ian Charleston) and Harold Abrahams (Ben Cross).

Strangely, the film opens with a 1978 memorial service for Abrahams, apparently in a Christian church. This seemed odd, because much of the film deals with the man’s struggle against anti-semitism, but research indicates that Abrahams converted to Roman Catholicism after his college years. The film then flashes back to the years prior to the Olympics in France.

Based on how people who call themselves Christians act toward Abrahams, one wouldn’t feel warmly toward the Church. Upon his arrival at Cambridge, someone says about Abrahams, “With a name like Abrahams he won’t be in the Chapel Choir.” Fortunately, in the person of Eric Liddell, we get a very different view of the church.

We first see Liddell officiating at a track meet for young men in Scotland. Children mob Liddell asking for autographs, idolizing him for his career in rugby. But at the time, Liddell is planning to follow in his father’s footsteps and go to China as a missionary.

We later see Liddell reprimanding a boy for playing football (soccer, as it is rightly known by Americans) on a Sunday. Then he makes an appointment with the boy to play a game with him and his friends on another day of the week. (“I don’t want the lad to grow up thinking God’s a spoilsport.”)

Liddell’s plan to go to China is interrupted when he is urged to prepare for running in the Olympic Games. Eric’s father reminds him that it’s his sacred duty to use his God given gifts to God’s glory. He is told by others that the church needs an example of a “muscular Christian.” He should “run in God’s name and let the world stand back in wonder.”

Eric’s sister Jennie is not at all pleased with the decision to delay his journey to China for something as juvenile as running. He responds with a great speech, really the highlight of the film: “I’m going back to China, after I first do a lot of running. I believe God made me for a purpose: China. But he also made me fast, and when I run, I feel His pleasure. To give it up would be to hold Him in contempt.” This is probably the best theological defense of the value of sport (and by extension art and craft) that has been ever made in a film. (Not that there are loads of such things out there.)

The film’s crisis for Liddell comes when he learns that the heats for the 100 meter dash will take place on a Sunday. Someone asks him if that will make a difference and he said, “Yah. It does.”  The English Olympic Committee is not pleased to hear about Liddell’s decision of conscience not to run on the Sabbath. But they are also unwilling to humble themselves and ask the French to make accommodations for Liddell to run at another time.

Great pressure is put on Liddell, even calling in the Prince of Wales to appeal to his patriotism. Liddell insists God must come before country. (A stuffy old Englishman on the committee says, “In my day it was country first, and then God.”)

The impasse is finally breached when another runner volunteers to withdraw from the 400 meter, allowing Liddell to take his place. Abrahams runs in the 100. Both men win the gold.

While in France, Liddell climbs the pulpit of the Church of Scotland in Paris (does such a place still exist?) where he preaches from Isaiah 40, a passage that resonates both with the Scot’s clash with authority and his running. (Verse 15 - “Behold, the nations are as a drop in the bucket and are accounted as dust on the scales”.  Verse 31 - “They that wait on the Lord shall renew their strength… they shall run and not be weary.”) Those who listened to LIddell preach knew that he was a man who sought God’s approval over the approval of men. They knew that his call to live by faith in the love of Christ was true.

So, though I wouldn’t have given the film Oscar gold, I’m glad Liddell received Olympic gold. I’m sure he has received a more greatly desired heavenly reward as well. As for the MovieChurches reward? We give Liddell and the Church of Scotland in Paris our highest rating, 4 Steeples.

* Joseph Fiennes will portray Eric Liddell in a new film, The Last Race, which should be released this year.

Science & Church: The Theory of Everything (2014)

There's not much church in this docudrama of the life of Stephen Hawking, and one assumes that's would be fine with him. When Stephen (played by Eddie Redmayne for an Oscar win) met Jane, who is to be his first wife, he told her, "I'm a cosmologist. That's religion for intelligent people." (You know, as opposed to idiots like Augustine, Aquinas, and Newton who held to orthodox Christianity.)

Jane replied, "I'm C.of E. [Church of England]"

"I suppose someone has to be," Stephen responded.

He told Jane that he can't allow his calculations to be muddled by belief in a supernatural creator, although physicists like William Henry Bragg seemed to be able to do maths well enough to get a Nobel Prize in spite of preaching in the Anglican Church on the weekends. Ernan McMullin managed to find room in his life for the "religion" of cosmology as a Roman Catholic priest. Charles Hard Townes was another Nobel Prize winner for physics who found room on his shelf for the Templeton Prize for religious achievement.

Anyway, back to the meager appearances of the church in this film. When Stephen asked Jane on a croquet date on Sunday morning, she replied, "I'm busy Sunday morning."

"Oh, yes, Him," Stephen replied. We then see Stephen waiting for her to leave church on Sunday.

If you have any acquaintance with the life of Hawking (and why would you watch this film without it?) you know he has battled Lou Gehrig's Disease for the majority of his adult life. In spite of his ailment, Stephen and Jane had three children. In the film, we see photos of the family after their third child's christening at an Anglican Church. Apparently, all three of his children were christened. One would assume this was by Jane's choice.

Not surprisingly, the film portrayed Jane facing many challenges in life due to her husband's illness, academic pursuits, and initial meager income. She went to her mother for advice on finding more in life. When her mother told her she should join the church choir, Jane responded, "That's the most English thing I have ever heard."

But she joined the choir. We see her enter a lovely Anglican church with beautiful stained glass but wooden chairs in place of pews. The choir director, Jonathan Jones, accepted Jane as a music student and soon became a family friend, discussing science and religion with Stephen, who assured him that physics will bring about the death of God (which reminded me of something Mark Twain said about great exaggeration).

Eventually, Stephen took a lover and forsok Jane, so Jane returned to her church and, eventually, the arms of Jonathan. I can't help but wonder if the church's clergy was at all concerned about the behavior of its musical staff.

The little we see of the church in the film doesn't seem to merit the disparaging remarks Hawking made, so we're giving it Two Steeples.