Weblog 165
April 05, 2009~ 12:15am
If you see no other movie this year, rent a copy of
It's a movie of seamless perfection- a drama of strong, conflicting personalities. It's moral 'cat and mouse', and it captures mid-60's Catholicism in a mirror that- for one who was a turning 13 in 1964- is a glimpse back to the changes that began mid-decade.
'Doubt' is about the friction between one who cannot tolerate doubt of any kind, and a young priest who welcomes it- sees doubt as a very human condition- and one in which we help one another as we stumble through life's crises.
Meryl Streep plays Sister Aloysius, principal of a Catholic grade school, who brooks no resistance to her idea of a world of in lock-step order: a world of cleanliness, conformity and submissiveness. Streep is the very face of a conservatism which desires black and white answers, but most of all-- control. Her nemesis is the young curate, Father Flynn, played by Philip Seymour Hoffman with a fidelity that brought chills as I remembered similar young priests from my own childhood and their exuberance in their desire to introduce a freer, more compassionate image of the church- which was always resisted by stiff-necked nuns who thought them frivolous and, as in Sister Aloysius' case, downright dangerous.
The intriguing thing about the crow-like specter of the hard-nosed nun came about in learning she'd been married once-- and her husband killed in the war. That's when a window opened for me and I saw into her character and spied the thing that had precipitated her retreat from a world of chaos and pain, and her subsequent entry into one in which she didn't so much submit to God's will, as attempt to levy control over the one sphere she could: that parish. That school.....those children.
The central 'doubt' of the film is whether young Father Flynn is actually molesting one of the schoolboys. The priest may very well be homosexual, but those two facts do not go hand in hand. However, it's a conclusion Sister Aloysius leaps to from a simple observation of seeing a pubescent male pull away from the priest as he was scolding him, checking his hands for dirt. Father Flynn wears his nails a bit long... and they're manicured. He likes sugar. (She does not.) He enjoys contemporary music. He presses flowers into his breviary...he gives a sermon on...'doubt'. (Shouldn't a priest be preaching about FAITH, not doubt?) In short, Father Flynn represents the change that threatens the accepted order-- he's all small things that HORRIFY the nun, so Streep sets about trying to trap him into admitting his moral failings and ultimately, to see him ousted from the parish.
Into this contest of wills, steps a third party...
the young- and very innocent, and very hopeful- Sister James. Streep presents her with the task of 'watching' the priest, always implying what she suspects. The agonies of that young woman trying to tap dance between her sworn obedience to her superior and what her heart is trying to tell her, is painful to watch. The young nun is us- the audience. She is our hope. She is our conscience....and she is torn.
The film itself is sheer perfection in its cinematography, and its fidelity to the look and feel of that time, right down to the peeling paint in the old school, the ever-present green institutional color of the walls-- and the dark wood, dark wood....dark wood everywhere. Framed shots of the windy, bare-tree garden between convent and school filmed from overhead, are moody and just right. Shots inside the church with the priest offering Mass with his back to the congregation, the look on those upturned faces, the women in hats- brought the past to life as in no other film for me. The tense, climactic scenes are riveting. The best performance - in a triumvirate of riveting performances, is the one with the boy's mother- a gifted, gifted actress. She brought me to tears. She wowed me with her ability to have me hang on her every word, watch each small facial movement. She's simply quite extraordinary.
I've watched the film twice now, but I'll be watching it again. There's so much I didn't see the first time that opened WIDER with a second viewing -- and I am sure there will be nuances the next time I watch it that escaped notice the first two. This is a profound film. A study of conservatism, and what that means- and more liberal thinking, and what that means- and how this shapes, and in certain circumstances, flaws people in the grip of either extreme.
Since this movie is based upon a Pulitzer prize-winning play that does not reveal the truth at its end, neither does the movie: we end as we begin... in doubt. (As to my own feelings- and everyone who watches this will reach their own conclusion- I do believe the priest was gay, and I believe he recognized similar pain in a young boy struggling with his own sexuality- and he reached out to comfort and support.) I think being gay, especially at that time, was enough to make the priest panic: being 'outted' at that time would not have been survivable.
And I believe Streep's last wept lines to Sister James, "I have doubts. Sister....I have doubts," were not meant to imply she doubted her own suspicions; no, she doubted she could hold back the tide of change forever.
She doubted her own power to keep the dam from breaking-- and she was terribly afraid of the floods of change coming. For the truly conservative (i.e. "controlling") personality, there is nothing worse: there's nothing as frightening in this world... especially when the God you have created in your own image shows himself as helpless to stop it.
April 08, 2009~ 7:15pm
Despite the sorrow in Pittsburgh this week- (and I've certainly given this subject space to vent in my other blog) -Easter is approaching. Resurrection is the theme. Hope. Daffodils and forsythia~ blooms on trees, to remind us that death is not the end- and whatever I have saved from the religion of my childhood, that is the central, shining part of it that I truly believe. We dress up (some of us)- and it's like putting on a different sort of clothing--- it's about renewal. I remember traveling by streetcar with my mother when very, very young, and picking out patent leather shoes....
and of course- the requisite hat....
AND BEST OF ALL...stopping at WOOLWORTH'S for lunch! (Remember those wonderful old menus?) And gosh! Look at the prices! (and the homey sound of plain, All-American lunch counter food.)
I could go for a fresh chipped ham sandwich right now! Thin, dill pickle slices on the side, and a sprig of spritely parsley-- and of course a THICK CHOCOLATE MILKSHAKE for dessert, whipped up on of those old, trusty Hamilton Beach shake makers. YUM!
And since it's Easter....it just wouldn't be complete without another showing of a truly terrifying BUNNY
LOL!! Talk about hungry! (Watch it kid! Bunny's gonna getcha!) I do think those people in bunny costumes are the dumbest thing going. I remember I thought the Easter Bunny was much like Uncle Wiggly... natty suit and everything, not some college joe trying to make a few extra bucks by sweating inside a fake fur costume.
BRING BACK THE REAL BUNNY! (We need him.)
Anything kindly and benign....and real. (Even pickled eggs are better than that joker wearing a 60's shag rug.)
***
(Return To Weekly Archives)
If you see no other movie this year, rent a copy of
It's a movie of seamless perfection- a drama of strong, conflicting personalities. It's moral 'cat and mouse', and it captures mid-60's Catholicism in a mirror that- for one who was a turning 13 in 1964- is a glimpse back to the changes that began mid-decade.
'Doubt' is about the friction between one who cannot tolerate doubt of any kind, and a young priest who welcomes it- sees doubt as a very human condition- and one in which we help one another as we stumble through life's crises.
Meryl Streep plays Sister Aloysius, principal of a Catholic grade school, who brooks no resistance to her idea of a world of in lock-step order: a world of cleanliness, conformity and submissiveness. Streep is the very face of a conservatism which desires black and white answers, but most of all-- control. Her nemesis is the young curate, Father Flynn, played by Philip Seymour Hoffman with a fidelity that brought chills as I remembered similar young priests from my own childhood and their exuberance in their desire to introduce a freer, more compassionate image of the church- which was always resisted by stiff-necked nuns who thought them frivolous and, as in Sister Aloysius' case, downright dangerous.
The intriguing thing about the crow-like specter of the hard-nosed nun came about in learning she'd been married once-- and her husband killed in the war. That's when a window opened for me and I saw into her character and spied the thing that had precipitated her retreat from a world of chaos and pain, and her subsequent entry into one in which she didn't so much submit to God's will, as attempt to levy control over the one sphere she could: that parish. That school.....those children.
The central 'doubt' of the film is whether young Father Flynn is actually molesting one of the schoolboys. The priest may very well be homosexual, but those two facts do not go hand in hand. However, it's a conclusion Sister Aloysius leaps to from a simple observation of seeing a pubescent male pull away from the priest as he was scolding him, checking his hands for dirt. Father Flynn wears his nails a bit long... and they're manicured. He likes sugar. (She does not.) He enjoys contemporary music. He presses flowers into his breviary...he gives a sermon on...'doubt'. (Shouldn't a priest be preaching about FAITH, not doubt?) In short, Father Flynn represents the change that threatens the accepted order-- he's all small things that HORRIFY the nun, so Streep sets about trying to trap him into admitting his moral failings and ultimately, to see him ousted from the parish.
Into this contest of wills, steps a third party...
the young- and very innocent, and very hopeful- Sister James. Streep presents her with the task of 'watching' the priest, always implying what she suspects. The agonies of that young woman trying to tap dance between her sworn obedience to her superior and what her heart is trying to tell her, is painful to watch. The young nun is us- the audience. She is our hope. She is our conscience....and she is torn.
The film itself is sheer perfection in its cinematography, and its fidelity to the look and feel of that time, right down to the peeling paint in the old school, the ever-present green institutional color of the walls-- and the dark wood, dark wood....dark wood everywhere. Framed shots of the windy, bare-tree garden between convent and school filmed from overhead, are moody and just right. Shots inside the church with the priest offering Mass with his back to the congregation, the look on those upturned faces, the women in hats- brought the past to life as in no other film for me. The tense, climactic scenes are riveting. The best performance - in a triumvirate of riveting performances, is the one with the boy's mother- a gifted, gifted actress. She brought me to tears. She wowed me with her ability to have me hang on her every word, watch each small facial movement. She's simply quite extraordinary.
I've watched the film twice now, but I'll be watching it again. There's so much I didn't see the first time that opened WIDER with a second viewing -- and I am sure there will be nuances the next time I watch it that escaped notice the first two. This is a profound film. A study of conservatism, and what that means- and more liberal thinking, and what that means- and how this shapes, and in certain circumstances, flaws people in the grip of either extreme.
Since this movie is based upon a Pulitzer prize-winning play that does not reveal the truth at its end, neither does the movie: we end as we begin... in doubt. (As to my own feelings- and everyone who watches this will reach their own conclusion- I do believe the priest was gay, and I believe he recognized similar pain in a young boy struggling with his own sexuality- and he reached out to comfort and support.) I think being gay, especially at that time, was enough to make the priest panic: being 'outted' at that time would not have been survivable.
And I believe Streep's last wept lines to Sister James, "I have doubts. Sister....I have doubts," were not meant to imply she doubted her own suspicions; no, she doubted she could hold back the tide of change forever.
She doubted her own power to keep the dam from breaking-- and she was terribly afraid of the floods of change coming. For the truly conservative (i.e. "controlling") personality, there is nothing worse: there's nothing as frightening in this world... especially when the God you have created in your own image shows himself as helpless to stop it.
April 08, 2009~ 7:15pm
Despite the sorrow in Pittsburgh this week- (and I've certainly given this subject space to vent in my other blog) -Easter is approaching. Resurrection is the theme. Hope. Daffodils and forsythia~ blooms on trees, to remind us that death is not the end- and whatever I have saved from the religion of my childhood, that is the central, shining part of it that I truly believe. We dress up (some of us)- and it's like putting on a different sort of clothing--- it's about renewal. I remember traveling by streetcar with my mother when very, very young, and picking out patent leather shoes....
and of course- the requisite hat....
AND BEST OF ALL...stopping at WOOLWORTH'S for lunch! (Remember those wonderful old menus?) And gosh! Look at the prices! (and the homey sound of plain, All-American lunch counter food.)
I could go for a fresh chipped ham sandwich right now! Thin, dill pickle slices on the side, and a sprig of spritely parsley-- and of course a THICK CHOCOLATE MILKSHAKE for dessert, whipped up on of those old, trusty Hamilton Beach shake makers. YUM!
And since it's Easter....it just wouldn't be complete without another showing of a truly terrifying BUNNY
LOL!! Talk about hungry! (Watch it kid! Bunny's gonna getcha!) I do think those people in bunny costumes are the dumbest thing going. I remember I thought the Easter Bunny was much like Uncle Wiggly... natty suit and everything, not some college joe trying to make a few extra bucks by sweating inside a fake fur costume.
BRING BACK THE REAL BUNNY! (We need him.)
Anything kindly and benign....and real. (Even pickled eggs are better than that joker wearing a 60's shag rug.)
(Return To Weekly Archives)
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