DOUBT
by Howard Schumann
According
to a report commissioned by the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops,
over four thousand clerics were accused of sexual abuse during the past
fifty years. Although approximately thirty percent of these accusations
were not investigated because they were unsubstantiated, given the proclivity
of the bishops to cover up these incidents, the figures are widely suspected
to be underestimated. What may be lost in the discussion of statistics
about sexual abuse in the Catholic Church, however, is an understanding
of the humanity of the people involved or the complexities of the circumstances.
This factor is
brought to light in Doubt, John Patrick Shanley’s
filmed version of his Tony Award and Pulitzer Prize winning stage play.
Based on Shanley’s personal experiences at Catholic School, the
film explores not only the issue of possible sexual abuse but conservative
versus progressive religious values and how far one can rely on suspicion
in the absence of proof. In 1964, Sister Aloysius (Meryl Streep) is
the dragon lady of St. Nicholas school in the Bronx. A strict taskmaster,
she relishes her role as the upholder of tradition, rejecting such modern
devices as ballpoint pens and the singing of secular songs at Christmas
like "Frosty the Snowman," which she equates with pagan magic.
Under Aloysius
is the sweet and innocent Sister James (Amy Adams), whose easy going
manner and charming personality is a welcome antidote to her authoritarian
superior. The priest at St. Nicholas is Father Flynn (Philip Seymour
Hoffman), the closest thing to a progressive at the school. He is open
to new ideas and the changes initiated by Pope John XXIII, being much
more relaxed with the children and engaging them in sports and conversation.
In his sermons he brings the language of religion into the twentieth
century, talking about the positive aspects of doubt and the injurious
effects of gossip. "Doubt”, he says, “can be a bond
as powerful and sustaining as certainty. When you are lost, you are
not alone."
Resentful of the role of women in the Catholic Church and suspicious
of Father Flynn, Sister Aloysius assigns Sister James to keep an eye
peeled for anything unusual in his conduct. Her fears appear justified
when Sister James reports that Father Flynn asked Donald Miller (Joseph
Foster II), the school’s only African-American student, to a private
conference in the rectory and was seen hanging up the boys undershirt
in his locker. Sister James also informs her that there was alcohol
on the boy’s breath and that the boy seemed upset when returning
to his desk.
Although no inappropriate
behavior was witnessed, Sister Aloysius suspects wrongdoing and summons
the priest to her office on the pretext of discussing the Christmas
pageant. She accuses the priest of misconduct with the altar boy who
denies that he gave altar wine to the boy or that anything unusual happened.
The drama takes more twists and turns, especially when Donald’s
mother (Viola Davis) raises Aloysius’ eyebrows by suggesting that,
in spite of the allegations, the boy, who is due to enter high school
in a few months, may be better off in the hands of the priest than having
to face his intolerant and abusive father.
Doubt
avoids easy answers and challenges us to view inflammatory issues from
a broader perspective, embracing the essential mystery of human behavior.
The acting in the film is uniformly brilliant. Streep is mesmerizing,
even if at times more theatrical than may be necessary for the character.
Philip Seymour Hoffman’s performance is more restrained and draws
our sympathy with his broader view of church doctrine and display of
love and compassion, although his demeanor at the end tantalizingly
suggests remorse. What may be the most noteworthy performance, however,
is that of Viola Davis, whose dialogue with Aloysius is one of the dramatic
high points of the film. The issue of whether Father Flynn acted as
a friend and mentor to the boy or a sexual partner is ultimately left
to the viewer to resolve, though what is beyond doubt is that absolute
certainty without considering other points of view is a dead end for
all involved.
***
English
accents coming from the mouth of Nazi soldiers; suggestions of kitsch,
exploitation, and Oscar bait; factual incongruities that lead to serious
head scratching. These are among the obstacles faced by Mark Herman’s
The Boy in the Striped Pajamas, a story of
the loss of innocence of a young boy when confronted by the atrocities
of the Nazi regime. Yet in spite of these questionable attributes, the
film is handled with great sensitivity and delivers a powerful and disturbing
movie-going experience that is difficult to shake. Based on a novel
(called a “fable”) geared to young adults by Irish author
John Boyne, the narrative is told from the point of view of eight-year
old Bruno, the son of prominent Nazi officer Ralf (David Thewlis).
The film’s
joyous opening sequence gives no hint of the dark night to follow. Bruno,
brilliantly performed by Asa Butterfield, runs through the streets of
Berlin with his friends, spreading his arms like wings, unaware that
he and his mother (Vera Farmiga) and teenage sister, Gretel (Amber Beattie)
will soon be moving from his comfortable surroundings to a villa in
the countryside, overlooking a “farm," walled off from the
house. In reality, the farm is a Nazi concentration camp, most likely
Auschwitz, and Ralf has been promoted to act as commandant. Bored and
without playmates, Bruno disregards the many warnings from his mother
and adventurously explores the forbidden territory beyond the wall.
When he discovers
an emaciated young boy his own age named Shmuel (Jack Scanlon) sitting
next to a barbed-wired fence wearing what he mistakenly identifies as
striped pajamas, Bruno only sees the opportunity for a new friend. Even
when Shmuel tells him that he cannot leave to play with him because
he is a Jew, he does not draw logical conclusions, nor does he understand
why a servant who helps him after he falls from a swinging tire would
give up his profession as a doctor to peel potatoes. His mother is aware
of the camp but, like millions of others in the world during that time,
pretends not to notice and makes no attempt to explain it to Bruno.
Her rebellion ultimately takes the form of tears when she learns that
the smell from the nearby chimneys is not the burning of rubbish as
explained by her husband but something unspeakable.
The
numbing conformity imposed on the younger generation is brought into
focus when a tutor brought in to school the children in Nazi-oriented
history tells Bruno that if he ever found a nice Jew, he would be the
greatest explorer in the world. It is also evident when his sister falls
for Kotler (Rupert Friend), a brutal German lieutenant, and plasters
her wall with posters of Hitler. To his credit, Herman does not create
monsters or stereotypes but recognizable human beings. Ralf is a devoted
father who loves his family but is seemingly unaware of the incongruity
between the nurturing of innocence at home and destroying it in the
name of country. This disparity is made brutally real by the heartbreaking
and unforgettable conclusion, which, by allowing us to experience personally
the true inhumanity of the Holocaust, has the power to point us towards
a true awakening.
©2009 Howard Schumann
CineScene
