St. Augustine, Chastity, and Clarity

Today, August 28, is the feast day of St. Augustine, Bishop and Doctor of the Church. The 1962 Roman Missal summarizes the life of St. Augustine as follows:

“Augustine, born at Tagaste (Africa) in 354, was the son of St. Monica and of a pagan father, Patricius. His mind was ensnared by errors and his soul and body corrupted by debauchery and impurity. Converted by the prayers of his mother, he became one of the most famous Doctors of the West and a Father of the Church. He died after an episcopate of 36 years at Hippo (Africa) in 430.”

Augustine is well known for his Confessions, in which he tells of his sinful past life, his conversion, and his deep love for God. In Book II, Chapter 1, he relates:

“I want to call back to mind my past impurities and the carnal corruptions of my soul, not because I love them; but so that I may love you, my God. It is for the love of your love that I do it, going back over those most wicked ways of mine in the bitterness of my recollection so that the bitterness may be replaced by the sweetness of you, O unfailing sweetness, happy sweetness and secure! And gathering myself together from the scattered fragments into which I was broken and dissipated during all that time when, being turned away from you, the One, I lost myself in the distractions of the Many.”

What St. Augustine is saying in the quoted passage, simply put, is that impurity fragments a person, damaging his intellect, will, and ability to govern himself. Chastity, on the other hand, re-integrates the individual who has been broken into “scattered fragments” by sexual sin. It is impossible to overstate the significance of these words of St. Augustine for our time, when many -- young and old alike -- are so damaged by the wantonness that pervades 21st century life and so deluded by the media that they are unable to think clearly enough to recognize their condition, much less its cause. Reflection on the life of St. Augustine brings consolation, since chastity and God’s grace produced in Augustine such intellectual clarity that he became one of the greatest Doctors of the Church.

Image: Martini’s “Augustine” (1325), from Wikimedia Commons. In the public domain.

A Handful of Dust (1988)

 

Note:  I updated this post on 2-15-2024 to add the image and hopefully improve my statements about fallen human nature.

Directed by Charles Sturridge and produced by Derek Granger -- both of Brideshead Revisited fame --  A Handful of Dust is a made-for-television film based on a novel by Evelyn Waugh.  It is available in DVD format.

The story is set sometime between the two world wars. Tony Last (James Wilby) is the squire of a British country estate, Hetton,  on which rests his ancestral home.  (Although it is not clear from the movie, the novel describes Hetton as a former abbey.  One supposes it came into Last's family's hands during Henry VIII's dissolution of the monasteries.  Afterward, it went through various structural changes and was redone in the neo-Gothic style during the 19th century.)

Tony loves Hetton and sacrifices a great deal to maintain it in the condition and use he believes befits it and his family history.  Yet, aside from the many servants, the only occupants are Tony, his son John Andrew, and his physically lovely but shallow wife, Brenda (Kristin Scott Thomas).  Tony is an attentive father, kind to the servants, and magnanimous to the villagers but has little interest in entertaining "gossips" from the city or spending time in London.

In response to a very casual invitation from Tony, a young man of poor means and remote social acquaintance, John Beaver (Rupert Graves), shows up at Hetton one weekend with the blessing of his opportunistic mother (Judi Dench).  Brenda does not hesitate long in letting Beaver know how little she cares for Hetton and how bored she is with Tony.

Beaver is more than willing to encourage Brenda and before long Brenda embarks on a campaign to make Beaver her plaything.  Brenda fancies Beaver and the idea of grooming him for her own pleasure appeals to her.  Rarely has a woman in book or film been so lacking in scruples about adultery or this particular form of it.  Brenda's eagerness and Beaver's mother's encouragement soon overcome Beaver's mild resistance to being bought, paid for, and trained.

Brenda takes a flat in London to facilitate her affair with Beaver and claims to take up the study of economics in order to justify her long stints in London.  Everyone in their social circle knows what is going on but no one tells Tony. One weekend Brenda goes home to sleep with Tony to keep him happy.  Naively, Tony responds with a heart-breaking gratitude.

When the couple's son, John Andrew, is tragically killed in a horse-riding accident on the day of a fox hunt, Brenda is initially relieved that the John who has died is her son John Andrew, not her lover John Beaver.  Soon there is a complete breakdown of Tony and Brenda's marriage and Brenda demands a divorce.  Tony, with predictable decency, agrees not only to the divorce but to take on the role of the adulterer for legal purposes.  But, when Tony discovers that Brenda's demands are such that he would have to give up Hetton in order to meet them, Tony finally understands that -- as he aptly puts it -- he would be giving up Hetton to buy Beaver for Brenda.  At that point, Tony has finally reached his limit.

The story then makes a very abrupt shift from realism to something closer to surrealism.  Abandoning the legal proceedings so as not to surrender Hetton, Tony goes to the jungle of South America with an eccentric explorer who claims to "know the Indian mind" and has brought along mechanical mice to charm the natives.  Unfortunately, the explorer does not know the Indian mind well enough to stay alive in the jungle and Tony is soon at the mercy of -- and imprisoned by -- a local chief "Mr. Todd" (Alec Guinness) who is half English and half native.  Todd is an illiterate who forces Tony to read volume after volume of Dickens to him.

It is very difficult to make the leap from the first to the second part of the story until one comprehends the theme that ties the two together -- the dark side of fallen man.  The Guinness character's use of Tony for his own pleasure is not a great deal different than Brenda's use of Beaver for hers.  The natives' festivities are only superficially unlike those of the London socialites.

The women in the story are particularly loathsome. Brenda is having her sole (yes, the bottom of her foot, not her soul) read by a fortune teller at a women's party in London when the news arrives that John Andrew is dead.  Tony seeks consolation from a rather ghoulish American woman ("Mrs. Rattery") who had flown her own plane into Hetton the day of the accident.  She is a mother who has abandoned her children or lost them to their father's custody. The best she can do is insist that Tony play a child's card game with her. A girl astride a motor scooter is part of the congestion that produces the accident that causes the death of John Andrew.   An ugly native woman bargains roughly with the explorer and demands cigarettes of Tony. The prostitute who is supposed to pose as Tony's partner in adultery during the divorce effort at Brighton is too lazy to even do the job she's been hired for. She brings along her daughter and the daughter too is rude and demanding. The only appealing (and womanly) woman in the entire story is the nanny who tenderly selects the clothing for John Andrew's burial.

Of the wealth packed away in this story and this film, more is revealed on subsequent viewings.  And for me at least, there is more to be revealed.  That is, I am still trying to make sense of the presence of foxes at different points in the story.  Brenda wears fox fur stoles in different colors throughout the film. At the very end of the film, the foxes are white and they are in cages. Brenda is shown them and looks at them wistfully.  I suspect the foxes are an allusion to the Canticle of Canticles 2:15, "Catch us the little foxes that destroy the vines:  for our vineyard hath flourished."  The Church understands the foxes to be false teachers that seek to destroy the vineyard of the Lord, i.e. the Church.

Ultimately, A Handful of Dust is a parable about original sin, concupiscence, and man's need for redemption.  Tony's goodness is a natural goodness uninformed by an adult religiosity. Tony is an Anglican who loved to take John Andrew to church on Sunday and sing the hymns but he did not want to talk with the vicar about religion after John Andrew died.  Later, when asked, Tony said he guessed he believed in God but he had not thought much about it.

The novel A Handful of Dust was published four years after Waugh converted to Catholicism.  Waugh does not preach, but the sermon is there in the form of Hetton: as its label indicates, neo-Gothic architecture was inspired by the medieval period.  And, of course, it was during the Middle Ages that authentic Christianity most thoroughly imbued society.  In clinging to Hetton, Tony is unconsciously clinging to the Church, which alone possesses the cure for wounded human nature.

           

Prayer for All Things Necessary to Salvation

My God, I believe in Thee;
do Thou strengthen my faith.
All my hopes are in Thee;
do Thou secure them.
I love Thee with my whole heart;
teach me to love Thee daily more and more.
I am sorry that I have offended Thee;
do Thou increase my sorrow.

I adore Thee as my first beginning.
I aspire after Thee as my last end.
I give Thee thanks as my constant Benefactor.
I call upon Thee as my sovereign Protector.
Vouchsafe, O my God,
to conduct me by Thy wisdom,
to restrain me by Thy justice,
to conform me by Thy mercy,
and to defend me by Thy power.

To Thee I desire to consecrate all my thoughts,
words, actions, and sufferings;
that henceforward I may think of Thee,
speak of Thee,
willingly refer all my actions to Thy greater glory,
and suffer willingly whatever Thou shalt appoint.

Lord, I desire that in all things Thy will may be done;
because it is Thy will,
and in the manner that Thou willest.

I beg of Thee to enlighten my understanding,
to inflame my will,
to purify my body,
and to sanctify my soul.

Give me strength, O my God,
to expiate my offenses,
to overcome temptations,
to subdue my passions,
and to acquire the virtues proper for my state.

Fill my heart with tender affection for Thy goodness,
hatred for my faults,
love for my neighbor,
and contempt of the world.

May Thy grace help me to be submissive to my superiors,
condescending to my inferiors,
faithful to my friends,
and charitable to my enemies.

Assist me to overcome sensuality by mortification,
avarice by alms-deeds,
anger by meekness,
and tepidity by devotion.

O my God, make me prudent in my undertakings,
courageous in dangers,
patient in afflictions,
and humble in prosperity.
Grant that I may be ever attentive at my prayers,
temperate at my meals,
diligent in my employments,
and constant in my resolutions.

Let my conscience be ever upright and pure,
my exterior modest,
my conversation edifying,
and my conduct steady.

Assist me, that I may continually labor to overcome nature,
to correspond with Thy grace,
to keep Thy commandments,
and to work out my salvation.

Discover to me, O my God,
the nothingness of this world,
the greatness of heaven,
the shortness of time,
and the length of eternity.

Grant that I may prepare for death,
that I may fear Thy judgments,
that I may escape hell,
and in the end, obtain heaven;
through the merits of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Amen.

(Pope Clement XI, 1721)

Image:   Fra Angelico's Last Judgment.  From Wikimedia Commons.  In the public domain.

The Laziest Gal in Town (Stage Fright, 1950)

I recently viewed Stage Fright, a 1950 motion picture directed by Alfred Hitchcock in which Marlene Dietrich has a major role. Much that happens in this movie is in keeping with one of Mr. Hitchcock's major themes:   the complexity of the human soul.

In Hitchcock's pictures, seemingly "good" people often reveal themselves to be anything but, and seemingly "bad" people sometimes do good things. Occasionally, they even rise to the level of sacrificing themselves for the common good.

Hitchcock was Catholic and the view he presents of human beings wounded by original and personal sin but still bearing the image of God is of course thoroughly Catholic.

In Stage Fright, Marlene Dietrich is a very bad woman indeed (although somewhat less thoroughly evil than she initially seems).

During the film, Dietrich (an actress and singer in the movie) performs before a theatre audience a piece called "The Laziest Gal in Town". Cole Porter wrote the number specifically for this movie.

The idea of the song is that while Dietrich would like the reward of selling her sexual favors (like the "gals" who get "money to burn"), and while she is attractive enough  ("it's not 'cause I couldn't"), and she is not morally opposed ("it's not 'cause I shouldn't")  -- she doesn't sell herself because it's just too much trouble ("it's simply because I'm the laziest gal in town").

I couldn't help but think that this song provides a great negative example of purity of intention.  That is, we Catholics strive not only to avoid evil and do good but to do these things solely for the love of God -- we strive to purify our intention.  The Dietrich character, however, refrains from sin not out of love for God or even to avoid damnation, but simply because of sloth.

I don't know whether Cole Porter had any of this in mind when he wrote the song but I rather like to think that Mr. Hitchcock very skillfully slipped a sermon on spiritual theology into this film.

Postscript:   Incidentally, the female lead in Stage Fright, Jane Wyman, converted to Catholicism in 1953 and became a Dominican tertiary.  It is said she was buried in a Dominican habit.

The Quiet American (1958)

The Quiet American (1958) is a black and white film directed and produced by Joseph L. Mankiewicz, who also wrote the screenplay.  It is based on a novel of the same name by Graham Greene and was followed by a remake in 2002.

The motion picture stars Audie Murphy as the American, Michael Redgrave as Thomas Fowler, Giorgia Moll as Phuong, and Claude Dauphin as the French police inspector, Vigot.

A multi-layered story with political intrigue, a detective story, and a romantic triangle, the film opens with the death by drowning of the American, an event that occurs during the Chinese New Year's celebration in Saigon, Vietnam, in 1952.  The story is then told for the most part in flashbacks related by Fowler as Inspector Vigot investigates and questions Fowler and probes into events leading up to the death.

Fowler is a cynical, aging British newspaper correspondent who is ostensibly covering the conflict between the French colonial and Vietnamese imperial forces on the one side, and the Communist rebels on the other. In fact, Fowler works very little and sends his assistant, Dominguez, to the battle zone in his stead. And, although Fowler has a wife back home in England, he lives with Phuong, a beautiful young Vietnamese woman who was formerly a paid "dining and dancing partner" at an establishment called the Rendezvous.

Fowler's assistant, Dominguez, is an enigmatic character whose nationality is not revealed in the film and who is an entirely different person in the book.  Since it eventually comes to light that Dominguez is a Communist, the implication is perhaps that he is a Cuban.

The American (who is nameless in the film, but called Alden Pyle in the novel) is an idealistic young aid worker for a group called Friends for Free Asia.   Influenced by the writings of a political scientist, York Harding, the American is convinced that the answer for Vietnam is the formation of a "Third Force", an alternative to either the preservation of the monarchy/ colonialism or the imposition of Communism.

The American, Fowler, and Phuong become acquainted one evening at the Hotel Continental (a well-known landmark in Saigon in real life), and dine together at the Rendezvous.  While the American and Phuong dance, leaving Fowler to order dinner for the three of them, Phuong's sister, Miss Hei, seizes the opportunity to question Fowler about the American.   Thus begins a campaign by Miss Hei to marry Phuong off to the American, who is more than willing since he has already fallen in love with Phuong.

At the behest of Dominguez, Fowler reluctantly travels north to the battle zone.  To the amazement of the French military, the other correspondents, and Fowler, the American suddenly appears, having driven a Red Cross jeep there from Hanoi for the purpose of telling Fowler that he has fallen in love with Phuong, wants to court her, and wants to be straightforward with Fowler.  The American also brings Fowler a cable forwarded by Dominguez saying that the newspaper has called Fowler home to England.

A couple of weeks later, Fowler returns to Saigon.  Dominguez picks him up at the airport and begins planting suspicions that the American is involved in political machinations. Fowler, however, is more worried about whether the American is engaged in romantic intrigue with Phuong. When Fowler returns to his apartment, Phuong admits she has been seeing the American, but always in the company of Miss Hei.

The American and his dog, Duke, come to visit.  The American proclaims his love for Phuong and his desire to court and marry her.  The encounter upsets Phuong.  She does not actually reject the American but assures Fowler she will remain with him even after Fowler tells her he must return to England.  Then in an effort to compete with the American, Fowler writes to his wife asking for a divorce, knowing in advance that she will not agree because she is a devout believer (high church Anglican.)

Because of the political potentialities of the 25,000-member private Army of the Cao Dai syncretistic religious sect, Fowler and other journalists travel to the sect's "Holy See" at Tay Ninh for the annual Cao Dai festival. There, Fowler sees the American speaking with an associate of General Thé, the former Cao Dai chief of staff, now a renegade from the sect.

After the press conference, the men must return to Saigon before nightfall because of the danger of insurgent attacks at night. The American's automobile has been tampered with and will not start. Fowler offers the American a ride back to Saigon.  Part way, Fowler's automobile, which has been drained of gasoline, runs out near a French watchtower.  The men take refuge in the tower with two young Vietnamese soldiers.  The Communists attack and Fowler is injured attempting to escape.  The American saves Fowler's life by carrying him to safety, then locates a French patrol to take Fowler for medical care.

After a stay in the hospital, Fowler returns to Saigon and hears back from his wife.  He lies to Phuong, telling her that the wife has agreed to a divorce.  Phuong shows the letter to Miss Hei, who knows English.  The truth is revealed and Phuong leaves Fowler for the American.

Meanwhile, Dominguez and a Chinese Communist assassin, Heng, convince Fowler that the American is providing explosives to General Thé as part of a scheme to build the Third Force.  After a deadly bombing in the center of Saigon that is very likely perpetrated by the Communists but blamed on General Thé, Heng proposes that Fowler set up the American for assassination.  Fowler is initially hesitant but after learning that Phuong will soon be leaving for America, he suddenly resolves to cooperate in the assassination plot.

The American is killed and Phuong returns to work at the Rendezvous. Vigot investigates, questions Fowler, and arrests Heng and Dominguez. Fowler's wife belatedly writes that she will agree to the divorce after all and Fowler's paper permits him to remain in Saigon for the time being. Nevertheless, Phuong refuses to reconcile with Fowler who, in the end, is left entirely alone and bereft of any dignity.

Michael Redgrave and Audie Murphy were well cast for their roles. Redgrave skillfully portrays the selfish sarcastic persona of Fowler while at the same time managing to invite a modicum of pity for his character because he reveals the character's underlying psychological fragility.  As for Audie Murphy, he is quite believable as the American, a role for which his personal history fit him very well since he was the most-decorated veteran of World War II.

A lot has been said about the real historical persons and events alluded to in the film, about the war in Vietnam that occurred after the novel, and about the similarities and differences between Greene's novel, Mankiewicz's screenplay, and the 2002 remake. Overall, the 2002 version is not more faithful to the novel as its enthusiasts claim.  In any event, I much prefer Mankiewicz's 1958 film to either the novel or the 2002 film.

What I find most interesting is the film's exploration of how a man's ability to reason and make moral judgments can be undermined by his passions.  In the act of betraying the American, who has saved his life, Fowler reads aloud a passage from Shakespeare's Othello where Iago says, "Though I perchance am vicious in my guess (As, I confess, it is my nature's plague To spy into abuses, and oft my jealousy Shapes faults that are not)". (Act III, Scene 3.)

Nevertheless, Fowler fails to heed the caution suggested by the passage.  He is so unsettled by the impending loss of Phuong that, despite his sophistication and journalistic training, Heng and Dominguez have easily manipulated him into believing that the American is providing General Thé with an explosive named "Diolacton" -- a substance that is fictional in the story as well as in real life -- and Fowler proceeds with the betrayal, then leaves it up to the God he does not believe in to intervene.

Moreover, Fowler's moral culpability is compounded by the fact that he does not truly love Phuong.  After Fowler lies, telling Phuong that his wife is going to permit a divorce, he treats Phuong peremptorily, ordering her about.  And, he tells the American that he does not care about Phuong's "interests".  Rather he just wants her and wants her with him.

One of the many ironies of the story is that while Fowler is loathe to return to England with the monotonous predictability of "the Press Club and the number 78 bus", he has embedded himself into a safe little world with Phuong that is just as narrow, if a bit more exotic.  And, the prospect of that world being torn apart is as shattering to Fowler as the prospect of losing predictable comforts would be to the most timid and banal of the Londoners Fowler disdains.  It is Phuong who dreams of a wider world with her picture books of America and England.

Another irony is that while Fowler sees the American as dangerously naive and foolish, the American sees Fowler as the one who is "truly innocent" because of his lack of self-knowledge and the degree to which his emotions obscure his perceptions.  Before his death, the American  (an Episcopalian) encourages Fowler to examine his conscience and suggests religion as a remedy for his spiritual affliction.  Inspector Vigot (a Roman Catholic) makes the same suggestions after the American's death.  Even when Fowler realizes he has been duped and has pronounced a private death sentence based on insufficient evidence, however, he persists in his atheism.  The end result is that he is left without absolution and without hope.

The film presents religion and morality in a positive light and adultery in a negative light.  There is no nudity, profanity, or vulgarity, and there are no bedroom scenes. I give the 1958 version five roses.

Babettes Gæstebud (1987)

Babettes Gæstebud (1987), better known by its English title, Babette's Feast, is a color film set in the late 1800s in village on the coast of Jutland in Denmark. The motion picture is based on a short story of the same name by Danish author Karen Blixen (also known as Isak Dinesen).  Gabriel Axel, another Dane, directed the movie, which stars Stéphane Audran as Babette.

Martine (Birgitte Federspiel) and Philippa (Bodil Kier) are the only children of a widowed Danish minister who is the founder of an austere pietistic Lutheran sect.  The daughters are named after Martin Luther and Luther's friend, Philipp Melanchthon.

A Swedish military officer, Lorens Löwenhielm (Jarl Kulle), and a French opera star, Achille Papin (Jean Philippe La Font), briefly court the sisters in their youth.  Löwenhielm withdraws because he believes himself unworthy of Martine, and Philippa rejects Papin after he makes a pass while giving her voice lessons in the parlor of her father's home.

The father dies, and the sisters -- who never marry -- spend their adult lives doing good works and holding together the sect founded by their father.  One stormy night, when the sisters are no longer young, a French widow, Babette, comes to their home with a letter of introduction from Papin, explaining that she had to flee France for political reasons.

After some initial hesitancy, the sisters take Babette into their home as their cook and housekeeper.  Babette enlivens the home and the community, adding herbs and special dishes to their bland diet and a French playfulness to transactions with the grocer and fishermen.

After more than a decade, Babette's quiet life with the sisters changes when the French lottery ticket bought for her yearly wins 10,000 francs.  The sisters assume Babette will return to France, and she considers it but decides to remain with them and spend her money providing a feast for the 100th anniversary of the birth of the women's deceased father.

Frightened by the arrival of the quail and a huge sea turtle that are to be made a part of this feast, the sisters and members of the sect are reticent about the meal.  At the request of his aunt, who is a respected member of the sect, Löwenhielm joins the party.  Married to a noblewoman and having won favor in the Swedish court by dropping pious sayings learned while courting Martine, Löwenhielm is now a General.  His praise of the food and wine overcomes the timidity of the others, who partake of the glorious repast Babette provides.

Löwenhielm remembers the haute cuisine at the Cafe Anglais in Paris prepared by a woman chef.  He makes a speech incorporating the Psalm he once heard in Babette's home when her father was alive. "Mercy and truth have met each other: justice and peace have kissed."  (Ps. 84:11 in the Douay-Rheims Bible.) The Church understands this to be a reference to Christ's unity of person but it is not presented that way by Löwenhielm.

The strange and wonderful food and drink weakens the psychological boundaries of the sect members.  Old grudges seem to resolve and longstanding worries seem to dissolve. The sect members conclude the evening by dancing around a well the way Danes dance around the tree at Christmas.

Afterward, Babette admits she was the chef at the Cafe Anglais to whom Löwenhielm referred.  She tells the sisters that she has spent all she had on the feast and will remain to work for them.  No one in France who meant anything to her is still alive anyway, so there is no point in going back.

In reflecting on the film, one wonders how long in real life the bliss would have lasted for the sect members since it was produced by the rich meal and wine to which they were unaccustomed.  It seems likely that the next morning they would have been more than a little embarrassed by their behavior and felt as if they had not quite been themselves.

As Christians, we know that good food and good wine do not have the power in themselves to bring lasting change in the human soul, which is comprised of the intellect and the will.  Thus, either the supposed transformation of the sect members was only transitory, or something supernatural occurred.

Many Catholics and other Christians think the film has a profoundly Christian message.  Catholics see it as affirming the goodness of creation against a heretical Manicheanism. Many see the meal as Eucharistic and Babette as a Christ-figure, sacrificing herself for the good of others.  One author sees the film as portraying Luther's theology of grace.  Another sees it as epitomizing the theology of Kierkegaard.

Even granting a measure of latitude for "artistic license", however, the film is a poor metaphor for Holy Thursday.  The essence of Holy Thursday was Christ's institution of the priesthood and Holy Communion, empowering the priest -- through an act of consecration -- to transform bread and wine into the Body and Blood of Christ for consumption by the faithful.  In Babette, there is no priesthood, no words of consecration, and hence no transubstantiation; there is only a meal.  A Last Supper that is only a meal might be considered sacred by some Protestants but surely not by orthodox Catholics.

While the well-intentioned but floundering sect members needed the sacramental graces of the Church, one wonders if the Babette enthusiasts are not projecting their own views onto a film where the director, and the author of the short story on which the film was based, might have intended something entirely different than a Eucharistic metaphor.

Those who see the feast as Eucharistic make much of Babette's supposed sacrifice, but there was no sacrifice.  Babette's art was cooking, and spending her money to create a memorable meal was an indulgence, not a sacrifice.  Near the end of the film, Babette admits that the meal was done at least in part for her own gratification, saying, "It was not just for you", meaning it was for herself as well, and that an "artist is never poor".  In the short story, this is even clearer:  Babette says, "For your sake? . . . No, for my own."

Much is also made of the fact that there were twelve at the dinner table. Interestingly, there were only 11 until Löwenhielm was invited.  Thus, the number symbolism -- if any was intended -- is a reversal of the Last Supper, where there were 12 until Judas's betrayal, then only 11. But, perhaps there is no symbolism at all.   Many believe twelve is the perfect number for an elegant dinner party.

In the film, Papin talks about how some day Philippa will sing in heaven, and Philippa tells Babette that in heaven she will delight the angels with her cuisine.  Aside from the fact that angels do not have bodies to delight with food, one might consider that if singers and chefs focus on their art in heaven, then heaven is merely a continuance of life on earth and might as well be achieved by science.

Remember that a metaphor is first and foremost a figure of speech, which implies that there is a speaker who is using the figure. The "speakers" in the film were Karen Blixen, the author of the short story, and Gabriel Axel, the director of the film.

According to a website devoted to Karen Blixen, she came from a Unitarian family and her religious views were consonant with those of the Danish existentialist Søren Kierkegaard, who did not believe in an ecclesial relationship to God.  Also, ironically given the food theme, Blixen had stomach problems, was perhaps anorexic, and died of malnutrition or starvation.

The Blixen site says the Babette story is about "pietism and the sensuality of food".  (Pietism is a religious current that emphasizes personal piety rather than church membership and participation in the sacraments.)

Here are two quotes from Blixen's short story on which the film was based:

"Of what happened later in the evening nothing definite can here be stated. None of the guests later on had any clear remembrance of it. They only knew that the rooms had been filled with a heavenly light, as if a number of small halos had blended into one glorious radiance. Taciturn old people received the gift of tongues; ears that for years had been almost deaf were opened to it. Time itself had merged into eternity. Long after midnight the windows of the house shone like gold, and golden song flowed out into the winter air."

"When later in life they thought of this evening it never occurred to any of them that they might have been exalted by their own merit. They realized that the infinite grace of which General Löwenhielm had spoken had been allotted to them, and they did not even wonder at the fact, for it had been but the fulfillment of an ever-present hope. The vain illusions of this earth had dissolved before their eyes like smoke, and they had seen the universe as it really is. They had been given one hour of the millennium."

Based on the above quotes from the short story, it seems that Blixen did see her characters as having received some kind of grace that night, although it is difficult to distinguish what she describes from the predictable effects of a good meal and an abundance of wine.  Perhaps Blixen meant to describe the natural grace of which good food is a part, or perhaps she meant the diners received a transitory supernatural grace.  There is nothing, however, to suggest that Blixen intended the dinner to be a metaphor for the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, as the Catholic Babette enthusiasts maintain.

As for Gabriel Axel, he is a gourmand married to a French woman.  Axel once told an interviewer that his wife could prepare all the dishes from Babette's Feast.  In 1968, Axel made a feature length motion picture called Danish Blue.  The title does not refer to blue cheese but to blue movies.  It is a propaganda film advocating the legalization of pornography.  According to the Wikipedia entry:

"The film mixes interviews, reconstructions and fiction in playful fashion, seeking to ridicule and undermine Denmark's censorship laws at the time.  The film may be said to have been successful in its mission, since a year after its release Denmark completely legalized pornography.

"The film was banned in France but released in both England and the USA.  It started a whole wave of documentary films about pornography in Denmark."

I am neither a theologian nor an expert in film or literature, but I believe that insofar as the story and film might be about more than art and food, Blixen and Axel's intended message was one of naturalism -- the idea that beatitude can be attained by natural means.  That, of course, is a beatitude without the beatific vision.  Such an interpretation fits with Blixen's statement that the sect members that night had "been given one hour of the millennium" (during which Christ rules on earth -- something that Catholics do not take literally), and with Axel's promotion of pornography, which I suppose he mistakenly believes makes for a psychologically healthier society.

In short, I do not believe that Babette's Feast has a Catholic or even a generic Christian message. It does, however, have lovely cinematography and an enjoyable glimpse of 19th century Swedish style in the interior of Löwenhielm 's father's home.  For these, I give the film three roses.

The White Countess (2005)

The White Countess (2005) stars the late Natasha Richardson as Sofia Belinskaya, a widowed Russian countess reduced to working as a taxi-dancer and occasional prostitute in a mean bar in Shanghai. Her costar is Ralph Fiennes as Todd Jackson, a former State Department employee and diplomat who lost his wife in one terrorist attack, and his daughter -- and his vision -- in another. The story is set in Shanghai in 1936 and 1937, concluding with the Japanese attack on that city in August, 1937, that marked the beginning of the Second Sino-Japanese War.

Sofia lives in a cramped slum apartment with her ten-year-old daughter, Katya (Madeline Daly); her mother-in-law, Olga (Lynn Redgrave); her sister-in-law, Grushenka (Madeline Potter); and her husband's uncle and aunt, Prince Peter (John Wood), and Princess Vera (Richardson's real-life mother, Vanessa Redgrave). Their kindly neighbor, Samuel Feinstein, is played by Allan Corduner.

Sofia and her in-laws are "White Russians", émigrés who fled the communist takeover in Russia. We are not told when they left Russia, when or how Sofia's husband died, or how long they have been in Shanghai. We only know that Sofia has been doing this work for "too long". Surely, however, she has not been taxi-dancing for the nearly 20 years since the 1917 revolution or the nearly 14 years since 1923 when the civil war ended.  Moreover, their daughter is only ten. Perhaps the family left Russia in the late 20s or early 30s and perhaps Sofia's husband provided for them all until he died.  But how he died is a mystery.

The family is entirely dependent financially on Sofia and, with rare exception, they show little love for Sofia. Her sister-in-law and mother-in-law especially look down on her, even as they avail themselves of the money she faithfully brings home, and the sister-in-law labors to drive a wedge between Sofia and her daughter. There are not enough beds for everyone, but when Sofia comes home from work at dawn, the uncle feigns sleep rather than give her his bed.  Although occasionally Sofia speaks her mind, for the most part she bears their maltreatment with a patient long-suffering that touches the heart.

As for Todd Jackson, he was at the signing of the Treaty of Versailles in 1919 after World War I, and involved in the failed League of Nations that was established by that treaty. Now blind, disillusioned, repelled by international affairs, and a little unbalanced psychologically, he finds relief frequenting seedy bars. In his meanderings, he meets and befriends a Mr. Matsuda (Hiroyuki Sanada) who, unknown to Jackson, is an advance man for the Japanese attack that will occur in August, 1937.

Sofia and Jackson meet at her workplace when she intervenes to protect him from two thugs about to mug him. Jackson fantasizes about having his own nightclub, where he can control the environment. After placing all he has on a racetrack bet, he wins enough to implement that plan, choosing Sofia as the "centerpiece" and assuring her that her income as his hostess will mean she will no longer need to prostitute herself.

Although Jackson makes no sexual demands on Sofia and they have a relatively formal relationship for the year leading up to the Japanese attack, the two gradually reach toward each other. By the dramatic conclusion of the film, their private worlds are torn apart and they have found refuge with each other.

Except for Sofia, each character fantasizes about an ideal future:  the in-laws dream of a restored social life in Hong Kong with other aristocratic refugees, Katya dreams of a boat trip up the river to Soo Chow, Jackson dreams of the perfect bar, and Matsuda dreams of the glorious triumph of Japanese imperialism.  To the extent that Sofia dreams, however, it is only of the beauty and purity of the past.

Natasha Richardson had reverence for the character she played, describing Sofia as a woman of dignity and inner grace. Richardson gives life to those qualities in her sensitive portrayal. Among the most memorable is a sequence early on when another émigré, a younger man who had played tennis with Sofia during their teen years in Russia, comes to work in the bar where Sofia dances. He approaches her with great respect, almost awe, and before being hustled back to work by the bar manager, kisses her hand tenderly. This brings back memories to Sofia, and one feels the bittersweet longing set in motion by his tribute when, back home after the night's work, she dreams of Russia while waiting for her bed to be free.

In my view, a serious flaw in the film is the complete absence of Sofia's deceased husband from the story. There are no photographs, no memories of him, only a comment from an in-law that Sofia is bringing shame to his memory. A positive aspect is that there are no bedroom scenes or nudity. There are some unsavory goings-on in the various bars. These events seem integral to the story, however, and do not seem improper for viewing by adults. Obviously, the picture is not for children.

The Fugitive (1947) - based on The Power and the Glory by Graham Greene

The Fugitive (1947) is a lovely, luminous film directed by John Ford.  It is a must for traditional Catholics.  I am surprised that it has not been given more recognition.  Henry Fonda, playing the priest who is the main character, understood his role and never failed to maintain a priestly dignity even when exhausted, threatened, or subjected to humiliations.

The story is of the events in the last days of the life of a priest in a Central American country where religion has been outlawed and the clergy martyred.  The unnamed priest played by Fonda is the one cleric who has not yet been captured and assassinated.

In the Graham Greene book on which the film is based (The Power and the Glory, originally published in the United States as The Labyrinthine Ways), the country was Mexico and the priest was an alcoholic.  Although in the film the priest is merely traumatized (as if "shell-shocked") --  and not an alcoholic -- that does not necessarily detract from the power of the story.

The important thing is that the priesthood is larger than the priest -- something he acknowledges toward the end of the film.  And, while being pursued by the police, he faithfully fulfills his priestly duties by administering the sacraments when sought by believers, sometimes reluctantly and with conflict and always at the risk of his own personal safety.

The motion picture was made in Mexico and the cinematography by Mexican Gabriel Figueroa is unfailingly beautiful. Many of the actors are also Mexican.  Dolores del Rio is exquisite as the Indian woman who protects the priest.  A wonderful sequence takes place in the cantina where she works.  At the beginning of that sequence, a man sings a mournful ballad that reaches deeply into the soul, and before the end of the sequence, when Dolores del Rio dances on the bar to distract the police who are looking for the priest, one feels keenly the sacrifice she is making despite her apparent gaiety.

Another wonderful part of the film is when the fleeing priest is called upon to administer the last rites to a woman from a middle class family. Afterward, the men of the family prevail on the priest to say Mass -- something he cannot do because there is no wine to consecrate:  wine has been outlawed along with religion and apparently as part of the effort to suppress the sacraments.

Pedro Armendariz skillfully portrays the atheistic lieutenant who pursues the priest with determination but not without a level of inner conflict. An interesting supporting character is the "trickster" figure, an informant who sets up the priest for his ultimate capture.  Another is The Gringo, an American gangster, who helps the priest but refuses the sacraments as he lays dying.  These two roles are well developed and well played by J. Carrol Naish and Ward Bond respectively.

This is a film I will watch again and again.  My only complaint is that The Criterion Collection has not offered it as a DVD, because the celluloid could use the technical improvements that Criterion accomplishes so marvelously.  I purchased it second-hand in a Region 2 DVD from Spain in English with Spanish subtitles, changed the region code on my computer, and watched it that way. There is no language option for English without subtitles but I found the Spanish subtitles helpful because the audio is not as distinct as it might be.

Needless to say, I give the film five roses.

The Keys of the Kingdom (1944)

The Keys of the Kingdom is a black-and-white motion picture based on a novel of the same name by A.J. Cronin. It is the story of Fr. Francis Chisholm (Gregory Peck), a Scot who becomes a missionary priest serving in China beginning in the late 1800s.

When Francis Chisholm is a young boy, his father is attacked by an anti-Catholic mob. His mother tries to bring her wounded husband home and they both drown while crossing a river in a rainstorm.

After his parents' death, Francis Chisholm lives with distant relatives. With no plans of entering a seminary, he attends a Catholic college, Holywell, where he must work harder than most to comprehend and absorb his studies. He annoys his professors by asking questions about the Faith that they perceive as evidence of doubt. The dean of the college, Fr. Hamish MacNabb (Edmund Gwenn), however, understands and supports him.

Francis Chisholm has a girlfriend back home who fears he will decide to pursue the priesthood. When he is unable to leave the college for an entire year, she becomes despondent, goes downhill, bears a child out of wedlock, and dies. At this point, encouraged by Fr. MacNabb, Francis Chisholm decides perhaps God is calling him to be a priest.

After ordination, Fr. Chisholm fails at his first assignments because of his simplicity, frankness and lack of social skills. Meanwhile, his former dean, Fr. MacNabb, has become his bishop. Bishop McNabb calls Fr. Chisholm in for what the latter expects to be a reprimand. Instead, Bishop MacNabb offers him the challenging assignment of taking over a mission in China.

When Fr. Chisholm reaches the Chinese mission, he discovers that the church building has been destroyed and that the Chinese Catholics have all migrated to a Christian village some distance away.

The Wangs, an insincere Chinese couple claiming to be Catholic, try to manipulate Fr. Chisholm for financial gain. When he sees through their schemes, they turn on him. He opens a street chapel but is rejected and harassed by the Wangs and other locals.

Help comes first through an eager and resourceful young Chinese Catholic, Joseph (Benson Fong), who hears of Fr. Chisholm's arrival, comes in from the Christian village to offer assistance, and becomes a loyal ally. An elderly Chinese woman who knows she will soon die gives Fr. Chisholm and Joseph her tiny granddaughter, Anna, to care for and the three become a community of sorts.

Dr. Willie Tulloch (Thomas Mitchell), a hometown friend, sends Fr. Chisholm a case of medical supplies and instructions. Fr. Chisholm then offers free medical care to the townspeople but again he is rejected. When the son of the mandarin, Mr. Chia, is dying of an infection, however, the mandarin calls in Fr. Chisholm as a last resort.

Fr. Chisholm successfully treats the infection and the son survives. In gratitude, Mr. Chia gives Fr. Chisholm a large parcel of land where he can construct a new church and school. As the Catholic community is rebuilt, Fr. Chisholm requests that teaching sisters be sent from Europe. When they arrive, the patrician Austrian superior, Mother Maria Veronica (beautifully played by the director's wife, Rose Stradner), is put off by Fr. Chisholm's ways and treats him coldly.

During an attack on the town by imperial troops, a heroic act by Fr. Chisholm saves the town but he is left crippled in one leg. Finally, as an elderly man, he is called home to Scotland and given parish assignments where he is again in trouble for his forthrightness. At the conclusion of the film, he is understood by the chancery officials and is a grandfather of sorts to the son of the illegitimate child of his former girlfriend.

There is a great deal of humor in the film, especially in the antics of Joseph. The pace moves along nicely. More importantly, the motion picture presents the Church and the priesthood in a favorable light. Fr. Chisholm is soft spoken, dignified, dedicated, chaste, and courageous.

There is a lovely sequence in Bishop MacNabb's office when Fr. Chisholm kneels to kiss Bishop MacNabb's ring, then the bishop gets out a bottle of Scotch and they have a heart-to-heart talk during which the bishop offers Fr. Chisholm the assignment in China. When Fr. Chisholm accepts, the bishop gives the young Fr. Chisholm a token that symbolizes the bishop's paternal care.

The primary theme of the film is the virtue of humility. One of the ways that theme is beautifully developed is in the relationship between Fr. Chisholm and the aristocratic Mother Maria Veronica. During the story, Mother moves away from the pride she recognizes is her fatal flaw.

The change in Mother begins when the Wangs steal from one of the sisters. Mother has hired the Wangs despite Fr. Chisholm's warning about them. In a sacrificial act accomplished with a grace worthy of her noble breeding, Mother gives the sister in replacement for what was stolen a valuable crucifix that has been in her family for generations. At the same time, Mother's view of Fr. Chisholm begins to change. By the end of the story, they have come to love and respect one another.

No such character development occurs with Fr. Chisholm's hometown friend, Dr. Willie Tulloch. He is the prototype of the "good atheist" who possesses much natural virtue but trusts only in science, not in God. He comes to China to visit Fr. Chisholm and is fatally injured during the attack by the imperialist forces. He persists in his atheism even as he lies dying. His unrepentant death illustrates the limits of the natural virtues, which do not include humility. Fr. Chisholm prays tenderly for Dr. Tulloch, commending him to God's mercy.

During the course of the story, Fr. Chisholm's character as such does not change a great deal either. Rather, by the grace of God, he is placed in a setting where his gifts can best be utilized, and the change that takes place is the development to the fullest of those gifts.

This film can be viewed and enjoyed by persons of all ages. There is no impurity, vulgarity, or excessive violence. On the other hand, the story is at times slightly Modernist in its outlook. The phrase "keys of the kingdom" seems to refer to the virtues of humility and charity rather than the keys of St. Peter.  I give it four and a half roses.

Image:
Keys of the Kingdom video cover, from Wikimedia Commons. Copyrighted material. Fair use claimed.

Les Dames du Bois de Boulogne (1945)

Les Dames du Bois de Boulogne (1945) is the second feature-length film by Catholic director Robert Bresson (1901-1999). It followed Les Anges du péché (1943), the screenplay for which was written with the help of a French Dominican priest, Fr. Raymond Leopold Bruckberger, and playwright Jean Giraudoux.

Les Dames was filmed in France during the German occupation. It is based on a story-within-a-story in Denis Diderot's late 18th century novel Jacques le fataliste. Diderot, a writer of the so-called Enlightenment, was no friend of the Church. The story as adapted for Bresson's film by Jean Cocteau, however, is thematically Catholic.

Set in Paris around the time the film was made, the story line is simple: after a two-year relationship, Jean's ardor for his lover, Hélène, has cooled. Hélène pretends the same has happened to her. Jean is relieved and suggests they maintain a friendship. Hélène appears to do so while executing a vicious revenge.

Hélène's plan begins with locating a mother and daughter whom she had known when she previously lived in the country. Three years prior to the setting of the story, the widowed mother had moved in to Paris with her daughter Agnès (now 19 or 20 years of age). Once affluent, they had almost immediately become destitute after the move due to some financial reverses. Agnès, a talented dancer, had given up her hopes of a legitimate career and become a popular cabaret dancer in order to support her mother and herself. Although it is not entirely clear in Bresson's version, Agnès was perhaps a prostitute, as was the woman in Diderot's story. At least she is viewed as someone who is or might as well be, and at one point she calls herself a tramp.

Hélène pretends to rescue the mother and Agnès from their fallen life. She pays their debts and provides them with an apartment. Agnès stops dancing and the women rarely go out. Then Hélène carefully orchestrates a meeting between Jean and the two women at the Bois du Boulogne, a Parisian park, knowing that Jean will be attracted to Agnès. As a result, with Hélène carefully manipulating the situation, Jean not only falls in love with Agnès but becomes obsessed with her to the point of near insanity.

Unable to conduct a normal courtship because of Hélène's control and believing Agnès and her mother to be women of impeccable virtue, Jean marries Agnès. Hélène arranges the marriage and orchestrates the wedding, seeing to it that Agnès' former male admirers are all there. Then, just after the ceremony has ended, Hélène, with great delight, reveals Agnès' past to Jean. Hélène's plan of revenge fails, however, because Jean and Agnès have come to a true love for one another that triumphs over evil and death.

Some critics have incorrectly labeled the film a melodrama. They need to check their dictionaries because a melodrama is a drama that exaggerates emotion while lacking characterization. This film is full of characterization: the dark intelligence of Hélène; the obsessed Jean; the mother who subjectively loves Agnès but is so lacking in moral fiber that she would rather let her daughter sell herself than sell her own furniture; and Agnès, who has difficulty accepting the consequences of her own actions. While the ending of the film is quite emotional, the emotions displayed then and throughout are appropriate to the story.

Not only is there characterization but there is character development. Early in the tale, we Americans might describe Jean as a "poor little rich boy", petulant and wilful. We see that he loves beautiful objects, and Hélène has been an object to him. But he is drawn by Agnès' authenticity. He likes the way she looks at people -- direct and shy at the same time. She seems more like a country girl than a city sophisticate. He sees her as "childlike and noble". He tells Hélène, "Agnès' face is like a wound across my heart." Thus, grace enters his life. Suffering lies ahead, but by the end of the film, he has grown to authentic manhood.

In one truly charming scene, as the result of a hint carefully dropped by Hélène, Jean goes to the area where two women live and waits, hoping for a chance encounter with Agnès. By the time Agnès appears, it is raining. Agnès rebuffs Jean, but he is reluctant to leave. Finally, Agnès says, "Do you like rain that much?" Jean smiles, looks up, and asks, "Is it raining?"

This encounter is more than a charming scene, however, because Agnès then gives Jean her mother's umbrella, and that event begins a rite of passage during which Agnès leaves her mother's ambit and comes under Jean's protection.

Not only has Agnès wounded Jean's heart but he has pierced Agnès' heart as well. At the beginning of the film, Agnès is abrasive and rather tomboyish. When she first goes to the apartment Hélène has provided, she uses her suitcase to push the door open roughly, then strides inside. As the story goes on, however, she becomes more feminine and womanly in her movements and gestures. And, as a genuine love for Jean comes to bloom on the night of their marriage, Agnès comes to terms with her past. Not only has she led a fallen life but she has betrayed Jean by marrying him without disclosing her notoriety. Humbled by love and contrition, Agnès begs Jean, "Show me a corner of your house where I can live."

Like all of Bresson's films, this one is visually exquisite, and like all of his early films it is in black and white. Although not as stark as his later works, it nevertheless has many elements that are noticeably "Bressonian". Among them are: a rainfall (and in this story also a waterfall) symbolizing purification; a grotto which the principal characters enter and emerge from having received graces that will slowly manifest over time; a critical moment when a character's actions seem to have left him or her without a choice regarding the future; and, finally, the redemptive outcome that is found in most (although not all) of Bresson's films.

The film is available in a high quality DVD in French with optional English subtitles. Admirably, there are no bedroom scenes. Agnès' dress and behavior are immodest at the cabaret, however, and there is a sordid event at the mother's apartment while Agnès is dancing with one of her admirers. These scenes are all contained within about five minutes of the DVD and can easily be avoided by fast-forwarding from the point of 11:30 minutes to about 16:45 minutes. Before and after that segment there is nothing objectionable although, as must be clear from the foregoing, this is not a film for children or young teenagers.

Image:
Jean Baptiste Camille Corot's "In the Park" (1862). Oil on canvas. From the Web Gallery of Art.

A Necessary Separation (Individual Friendships in the World)

Some writers on spirituality caution against individual friendships. For instance, in Chapter Four of The Way of Perfection, St. Teresa of Avila states, "For the love of the Lord, refrain from making individual friendships, however holy, for even among brothers and sisters such things are apt to be poisonous and I can see no advantage in them . . . " She elaborates on why this is so.

St. Francis de Sales in Introduction to the Devout Life, however, explains that this admonition is meant to apply to religious and not to persons living in the world:

"Do you, my child, love every one with the pure love of charity, but have no friendship save with those whose intercourse is good and true, and the purer the bond which unites you so much higher will your friendship be. If your intercourse is based on science it is praiseworthy, still more if it arises from a participation in goodness, prudence, justice and the like; but if the bond of your mutual liking be charity, devotion and Christian perfection, God knows how very precious a friendship it is! Precious because it comes from God, because it tends to God, because God is the link that binds you, because it will last for ever in Him. Truly it is a blessed thing to love on earth as we hope to love in Heaven, and to begin that friendship here which is to endure for ever there. I am not now speaking of simple charity, a love due to all mankind, but of that spiritual friendship which binds souls together, leading them to share devotions and spiritual interests, so as to have but one mind between them. Such as these may well cry out, 'Behold, how good and joyful a thing it is, brethren, to dwell together in unity!' Even so, for the 'precious ointment' of devotion trickles continually from one heart to the other, so that truly we may say that to such friendship the Lord promises His Blessing and life for evermore. To my mind all other friendship is but as a shadow with respect to this, its links mere fragile glass compared to the golden bond of true devotion. Do you form no other friendships. I say 'form,' because you have no right to cast aside or neglect the natural bonds which draw you to relations, connections, benefactors or neighbors. My rules apply to those you deliberately choose to make. There are some who will tell you that you should avoid all special affection or friendship, as likely to engross the heart, distract the mind, excite jealousy, and what not. But they are confusing things. They have read in the works of saintly and devout writers that individual friendships and special intimacies are a great hindrance in the religious life, and therefore they suppose it to be the same with all the world, which is not at all the case. Whereas in a well-regulated community every one’s aim is true devotion, there is no need for individual intercourse, which might exceed due limits;—in the world those who aim at a devout life require to be united one with another by a holy friendship, which excites, stimulates and encourages them in well-doing. Just as men traversing a plain have no need to hold one another up, as they have who are amid slippery mountain paths, so religious do not need the stay of individual friendships; but those who are living in the world require such for strength and comfort amid the difficulties which beset them. In the world all have not one aim, one mind, and therefore we must take to us congenial friends, nor is there any undue partiality in such attachments, which are but as the separation of good from evil, the sheep from the goats, the bee from the drone—a necessary separation.

"No one can deny that our Dear Lord loved S. John, Lazarus, Martha, Magdalene, with a specially tender friendship, since we are told so in Holy Scripture; and we know that S. Paul dearly loved S. Mark, S. Petronilla, as S. Paul Timothy and Thecla. S. Gregory Nazianzen boasts continually of his friendship with the great S. Basil, of which he says: 'It seemed as though with two bodies we had but one soul, and if we may not believe those who say that all things are in all else, at least one must affirm that we were two in one, and one in two —the only object that both had being to grow in holiness, and to mold our present life to our future hopes, thereby forsaking this mortal world before our death.' And S. Augustine says that S. Ambrose loved S. Monica by reason of her many virtues, and that she in return loved him as an Angel of God.

"What need to affirm so unquestionable a fact! S. Jerome, S. Augustine, S. Gregory, S. Bernard, and all the most notable servants of God, have had special friendships, which in nowise hindered their perfection. S. Paul, in describing evil men, says that they were 'without natural affection,' i.e. without friendship. And S. Thomas, in common with other philosophers, acknowledges that friendship is a virtue, and he certainly means individual friendships, because he says that we cannot bestow perfect friendship on many persons. So we see that the highest grace does not lie in being without friendships, but in having none which are not good, holy and true."

As should be obvious from the foregoing, St. Francis de Sales is not advocating the formation or preservation of friendships with romantic or sexual overtones (sometimes euphemistically referred to as "special friendships"). And, St. Teresa condemns such friendships even more vigorously than individual friendships in general.

Source:
St. Francis de Sales, Introduction to the Devout Life, Part III, Chapter XIX.

Image:
Vermeer's "Christ in the House of Martha and Mary", from Wikimedia Commons. In the public domain.

Journal d'un curé de campagne (1951)

This is the second part of a two-part review of the novel and film Journal d'un curé de campagne (Diary of a Country Priest) by Georges Bernanos and Robert Bresson respectively. An earlier post focused on the 1936 book by Bernanos. Today's is about the 1951 film, written and directed by Robert Bresson.

Bresson was born on September 25, 1901, at Bromont-Lamothe, Puy-de-Dôme, and educated at Lycée Lakanal à Sceaux, Paris. Before becoming a film director he was a painter and a photographer. During World War II, he spent over a year in a prisoner-of-war camp. He made thirteen feature-length films, often using non-professional or little known actors. In 1967, he made a film based on another Bernanos book, Mouchette. Bresson died in Paris on December 18, 1999.

Bresson's script for the film is for the most part quite faithful to the book. We see the Curé's diary and hear its contents in the voice of the Curé. Dialogue is used so sparingly that the viewer finds himself in a unique psychological and aesthetic space between a silent film and a talking picture. Music is used rarely but to good effect.

Bresson's fidelity to the novel makes visually and audibly present the various events in the Curé's Way of the Cross that were described in the review of Bernanos' book. As in the book, however, the allusions are subtle and one's recognition of them is belated. Critic André Bazin was aware of this aspect of the work and described it as liturgical.

The visuals are without exception exquisitely beautiful, in black and white. Much attention is given to the facial expressions, body language, and movements of Claude Laydu, who plays the Curé.

The casting and performances of the Count, the Countess, Louise, Chantal, Seraphita, and even the very minor characters are without exception flawless, as are the settings and camera work. A psychiatrist in real life plays the priest of Torcy and he is entirely believable. Marie-Monique Arkell is perfect as the Countess. The encounter between the Curé and the Countess where he fights for her soul could not be better.

It is said that Bresson would only cast a faithful Catholic for the role of the Curé and that Laydu lived with a group of young priests prior to the filming so he could acquire their gestures and movements. It is also said that Laydu fasted during the filming in order to lend credibility to the role. One wonders whether he also fasted for spiritual reasons. Toward the end of the film Laydu merges so completely with the character that one beholds a man who is as entirely spiritualized as one can be in this life. And, one feels a deep gratitude to Laydu for the sacrifices he made for the sake of the film.

In various reviews and the commentary, much nonsense is said about Bernanos, Bresson, and the film. Particularly annoying are those claiming that Bresson was a Jansenist heretic or an agnostic. Significantly, none of these claims include a direct statement by Bresson that he was either. A single viewing of the film is enough to conclude that no agnostic would -- or could -- have made it. Moreover, Bresson closes the film with the actual words used by Bernanos, "Tout est grâce". ("All is grace"). No Jansenist would make such a statement.

The Jansenist view of grace is a withholding one, where God metes out grace to a chosen few, overwhelming their free will, while leaving the vast majority of humanity unredeemed. The phrase "all is grace" was taken by Bernanos from the lips of the Little Flower, Thérèse of Lisieux (1873-1897). One of the major reasons the Little Flower was so beloved during the first half of the twentieth century was that her view of grace was such an effective antidote for the residual poison of Jansenism. By adopting her language, Bernanos and Bresson clearly rejected the heresy of Jansenism. Those who claim otherwise should be ignored.

In her 1937 translation of Bernanos' book into English, Pamela Morris exchanged "Grace is everywhere" for "Tout est grâce". To say "grace is everywhere" is in keeping with scripture. "And where sin abounded, grace did more abound." (Romans 5:20.) Thus, Morris' statement is theologically correct. It is not, however, a direct translation of what Bernanos, Bresson, or the Little Flower actually said.

What did Bernanos, Bresson, and Little Flower mean by "all is grace"? Speaking concretely, all is definitely not grace. To make this statement with the intention that it be taken literally would be to promote the heresy of pantheism, i.e. "everything is God", but surely this was not the intention.

The key to Bernanos' and Bresson's use of the phrase is found in a striking moment in the film. The Curé is struggling for the Countess' soul. She refers to her husband's infidelities and then says, "There's nothing in my past to blush about." To this, the Curé replies, "Blessed is sin if it teaches us shame." (This is very similar to the portrayal of the event in the novel.) The Curé does not mean that the sin itself is a blessing but rather that it is a blessing if the sin brings about humility and repentance in the individual. This too is consistent with scripture, "And we know that to them that love God, all things work together unto good, to such as, according to his purpose, are called to be saints." (Romans 8:28.)

Thus, Bernanos' and Bresson's use of "tout est grâce" should be understood to mean that grace is always and everywhere present -- along with what is not grace -- even though one might not be able to perceive it. With spiritual maturation, one's vision is enlarged to see the presence of grace in past and current circumstances -- a vision that becomes complete for the Curé as he lies dying.

With each repeated viewing of Bresson's exquisite film, one's experience of it deepens; its meaning -- and Bernanos' -- penetrates farther into one's interiority. The riches of this beautiful story and film are seemingly inexhaustible.

The film is available in DVD format from the Criterion Collection and can be purchased from the usual outlets.

Image:
Ruysdael's "After the Rain", from the Web Gallery of Art. In the public domain.

Diary of a Country Priest (Bernanos, 1936)

This is the first part of a two-part review of the 1936 novel by Georges Bernanos, Journal d'un curé de campagne (Diary of a Country Priest), and the 1951 film by director Robert Bresson based on the novel.

Bernanos was awarded the Grand Prix du Roman de L'Académie française for the novel, while Bresson's film won eight international awards, including the Grand Prize at the Venice International Film Festival.

Bernanos and Bresson were both French Catholics. Bresson also made a film based on another book by Bernanos, Mouchette. This post will focus on the book Diary of a Country Priest. Part II will focus on Bresson's film of the same name. Perhaps sometime in the future there will also be a post on Mouchette.

Bernanos was born on February 20, 1888, in Paris, and spent most of his childhood and youth in Fressin, a small village in the Pas de Calais region. He was educated by Jesuits at Vaugirard College, where one of his classmates was the future General, Charles de Gaulle. Bernanos attended the Institut Catholique and the University of Paris, where he received licentiates in law and letters. One source says that he attended two minor seminaries before going on to the Sorbonne and that he had at one time thought to become a priest.

Bernanos was a cavalryman in World War I, was wounded and received the Croix de Guerre. He married in 1917. His wife, of the family Du Lys D'Arc, was a direct descendant of the brother of St. Joan of Arc. The couple had three boys and three girls. The family lived in various places, including South America from 1938 to 1945, much of that time on a remote farm in Brazil. Between 1926 and 1945, sixteen of his books were published. Bernanos died at Neuilly sur-Seine on July 5, 1948.

The reader is not told the year in which the events of the novel Diary of a Country Priest take place. There is a reference to a motorbike, however, and other commentary that seems to set the novel at about the same time it was written. The main character and narrator is a nameless Catholic priest, about 30 years of age, who keeps a journal as a way of gathering his thoughts.

The young Curé comes from a poor background but entered the seminary at the age of 12 and was a gifted student. Now he has been assigned to the village of Ambricourt as the parish priest. According to his Dean, Ambricourt is a "double parish". It includes many smaller villages and he has many homes to visit. Although he goes about his work with dedication and sincerity, the villagers reject him. The only person who attends weekday Mass is Louise, the governess in the home of a Count who lives in a nearby château.

The Curé is sickly and becomes increasingly so as time goes on. He finds his stomach can only tolerate sugared wine, dry bread, and sometimes baked apples or potatoes. For this and other minor things, he is suspected, ridiculed and condemned. He thinks he might have tuberculosis but puts off going to Lille to see a specialist for diagnosis.

Occasionally, the Curé visits an older priest in the nearby village of Torcy who apparently was one of his teachers in the seminary. The older priest has a bleak view of the degree to which humans have been wounded by Adam's sin. His worldview is perhaps more Lutheran than Catholic. In fact his first name is Martin and he prays regularly for Martin Luther. One should not confuse the voice of the priest of Torcy with the voice of Bernanos or the voice of the Church. Still, there is sometimes humor in the ramblings of this older priest that is enjoyable to read.

The priest of Torcy seems to have a genuine affection for the Curé but calls him a "ragamuffin" and berates him about his demeanor and his diet. He even complains about the cloak the Curé wears, which was given to him by an aunt, because he thinks it makes the Curé look like "a romantic German poet." Their conversations are mostly one-sided harangues by the priest of Torcy. Early on, the priest advises the Curé, "A true priest is never loved, get that into your head. . . . Try first to be respected and obeyed. What the Church needs is discipline."

Lacking social skills, the Curé often alienates one or the other villager while always intending to do good. At the same time, on occasion he has an uncanny ability to read souls and exercise his priestly authority in a manner that can only be explained by God acting through him.

A sexually precocious village girl name Seraphita torments the Curé. She is the star pupil in his catechism class. He believes she is longing for her First Holy Communion. When he asks her about it, however, she says, "It'll come soon enough." He replies, "But you understand me though, you listen so well." To this, she responds, "It's 'cause you've got such lovely eyes."

In his sickness and isolation the Curé longs for, and finds himself incapable of, deep prayer. "I know, of course, that the wish to pray is a prayer in itself, that God can ask no more than that of us. But this was no duty which I discharged. At that moment I needed prayer as much as I needed air to draw my breath or oxygen to fill my blood. . . . A void was behind me. And in front a wall, a wall of darkness."

The Count's daughter, Chantal, believes that the governess, Louise, is the Count's mistress, which may be true. She hates Louise, hates the Countess for tolerating Louise's presence, and is angry with her father. Both Louise and Chantal seek the Curé's help and he is thus drawn in to the struggles at the château. The Curé receives an ominous note warning him to leave the village that he later discovers was likely written by the governess, Louise.

One of the most dramatic parts of the book begins when the Curé approaches the Countess about Chantal, who he fears is suicidal. It emerges that the Countess has been alienated from God for years because her only son died when he was just eighteen months old. What ensues is an encounter where the Curé fights for the Countess's soul in a struggle so fierce it almost resembles an exorcism. The result is that the Countess is reconciled to God. The next day she writes to the Curé telling him of the peace she has found. That night she has an angina attack and dies. Chantal then lies about what occurred between her mother and the Curé, and he is blamed for the Countess' death.

Toward the end of the novel, the Curé sometimes feels healthier while in fact his condition is rapidly worsening. On his way back from a round of home visits, he hemorrhages and collapses, vomiting blood. Seraphita discovers and helps him. She thinks perhaps someone at one of the homes he has visited poisoned him. "Someone's been poppin' ash in your glass -- they think it's funny, a kind o' joke." Later, however, Seraphita describes the incident to Chantal who uses the information to further discredit the Curé.

Among the minor characters is a general practitioner, Dr. Delbende, who lost his faith in medical school, spends his life in doing works of mercy, but in the end commits suicide because of financial problems. Another is Louis Dufréty, a priest who took a leave for health reasons and ended up cohabitating with a former charwoman from the sanatorium where he had been treated. He was the Curé's best friend in the seminary. Now he is trying to make a living as a drug salesman.

A third minor character is Olivier, a nephew of the Countess, a soldier on leave who gives the Curé a ride on his motorbike. Another is Madame Dupluoy, a pub-keeper who treats the Curé with kindness while he is waiting for the train to Lille when he finally leaves to see the specialist there. "Mme Duplouy made me share her lunch . . . . I had some soup and vegetables. While I was out she had lit the stove, and she left me alone after lunch, very cosy, with a cup of black coffee. I felt warm and comfortable."

Finally the Curé arrives in Lille to see the specialist Dr. Delbende referred him to before Delbende's death. As it turns out, the physician he actually sees is not the same doctor to whom he was sent (Lavigne) but one with a similar name (Laville). The doctor prescribes a medicine but forgets to give the prescription to the Curé. When the latter goes back for it, he finds Dr. Laville shooting opium into his leg. At that point, Laville finally tells the Curé that he has stomach cancer.

After hearing the diagnosis, the Curé goes to visit Louis Dufréty who lives in Lille. Dufréty inhabits a dream-world of lies in which he imagines himself an intellectual and claims the woman with whom he lives was the "chief sister" at the sanatorium who had "made a thorough study of medicine" and a "refined, cultured girl". In fact she is a pitiful, uneducated woman who chars at several locations in a single day in order to support the couple.

Dufréty and his mistress make up a camp bed for the Curé in the room where Dufréty keeps his supplies. The Curé is repelled by the situation and does not want to die there. At 4:00 in the morning, however, Dufréty and his mistress (whose name we never learn) discover him rapidly approaching death. He has hemorrhaged again and fainted. When he regains consciousness, he motions for his Rosary, then asks Dufréty for sacramental absolution. As Dufréty later writes to the priest of Torcy, "Although I realized I had no right to accede over hastily to this request, it was quite impossible in the name of humanity and friendship, to refuse him. May I add that I was able to discharge this duty in a spirit which need leave you with no possible misgivings."

Although Dufréty has sent for the parish priest so that the Curé could receive "the final consolations of Our Church", the Curé dies before the priest arrives. His last words are borrowed from Thérèse of Lisieux, "Tout est grâce". ("All is grace", mistranslated in the English version as "Grace is everywhere .")

Bernanos was intensely critical of the state of the Church and society and there is much material for reflection on these subjects in the book if one has a solid understanding of Catholic doctrine and the background to put the commentary in context. If one does not, it is better to focus one's attention on the story itself.

The key to this novel seems to be found in a realization the Curé had during one of the diatribes of the priest of Torcy. The older priest talks about how God's calling of each priest comes in a different way, "So to get things straight I start off by taking each one of us back where he belongs in Holy Writ." This triggers a realization by the Curé, "The truth is that my place for all time has been Mount Olivet . . . in that instant -- strangely in that very instant, when He set His hand on Peter's shoulder asking him the useless question, almost naïve yet so tender, so deeply courteous: Why sleep ye? . . Our Lord this day [has] granted me, through the lips of my old teacher, the revelation that I am never to be torn from the eternal place chosen for me -- that I remain the prisoner of His Agony in the Garden. Who would dare take such an honour upon himself?"

Reviewers of the book often declare that the Curé is a Christ figure and then go on to speak of other things. It is true that he is a Christ figure, but Bernanos' manner of portraying this is unique. In a manner so hidden that one can only fully perceive it in retrospect, the events of the final months of the Curé's life allude to the final events of Christ's earthly life -- those incorporated in the Sorrowful Mysteries of the Rosary and the Stations of the Cross.

Over the course of time, the Curé seems to take the sins of the villagers upon himself. When he is ridiculed and lied about, one thinks of the Scourging at the Pillar. In his weakness, he falls several times. When Seraphita finds him fallen on a path and cleans his face with a rag, one thinks of Veronica wiping the face of Jesus. When Olivier, the soldier, gives the Curé a lift on his motorbike, it reminds one of Simon of Cyrene helping Jesus carry the Cross. When Madame Duplouy comforts the Curé with food and warmth, in a sense Jesus meets his mother. In Lille, especially at Dr. Laville's, evil is so palpable that one has a hint of its concreteness on that long-ago Friday. Since Dufrety and his mistress both also have terminal illnesses, even the Curé's death at Dufréty's could be seen as an allusion to Christ's crucifixion between the two thieves.

Thus, the novel can draw the reader into a deep experience of, and identification with, Christ's Passion in an unanticipated manner that is quite effective. Needless to say, the book is good Lenten reading and reading it is an experience not easily forgotten.

Source:
Quotations are from the 1937 translation into English by Pamela Morris entitled Diary of a Country Priest using the 2nd Carroll & Graf Edition (New York, 2002).

Image:
Ruysdael's, "After the Rain," from Web Gallery of Art. In the public domain.