[ This is a post for folks who have seen the film. So far
on this forum, that seems to include only Raunchydog, do.rflex,
and myself. In past writings about this film, I have tried very
carefully to not post anything that might spoil a potential
viewer's innocent appreciation of the film, and have focused on
saying things that might enhance it. This rap falls into a
different category. If you haven't seen the film, I suggest
that you put off reading this post until after you have seen it.
Or, don't bother to read it at all, as with so many other of my
posts. :-) ]
SPOILER ALERT -- scroll down for content -- SPOILER ALERT
As you can probably tell, I liked the film "Doubt." I found
it one of the best-written screenplays in years, and one of
the best-directed and best-acted productions. Many reviewers
have cataloged their theories about the mystery at the heart of
the film -- was Father Flynn guilty or innocent of having an
improper gay relationship with Donald, the young black student?
This question has been made *more* of a question as a result
of the writer and director saying once that he told only the
actor playing Father Flynn the answer to the question. NO
ONE knows the "real answer" except for Shanley and those
actors. So anything I write here about "my theory" is just
that -- a theory. It has no relationship to truth, any more
than any of the theories of the nuns in the film about his
guilt or innocence did.
The three possibilities have been cataloged in the press, and
here on this forum:
1. FF could be guilty of wrongful actions in the present, in
the form of having had an improper relationship with Donald,
and acting upon it.
2. FF could be innocent in the present of any wrong actions,
but guilty of similar infractions in his past.
3. FF could be innocent of all charges, both in the present
and in the past, and be the innocent victim of Sister Aloysius'
obsession and misplaced zeal to "right wrongs," even if they
never happened anywhere but inside her head.
My theory is a variant of Door Number Three. It's based on
a theme I found throughout the film -- parallelism.
Throughout the film, we see the same actions and words being
echoed over and over. The closing of windows, white things
fluttering in the wind. The same speeches being delivered, by
different characters and in different contexts. So, with this
obvious and intentional parallelism in mind, think about one
more possible parallel:
3a. What if Father Flynn is like Donald?
Donald's mother says that he has homosexual tendencies, but
has never acted on them. What if Father Flynn is exactly the
same?
Parallelism. Donald is self conscious, and asks, "Do you think
I'm fat?," hoping *that* is the reason the other students are
looking at him. He's afraid that his classmates perceive him
as being as different as he feels inside. Father Flynn keeps
making excuses for his habit of wearing his fingernails long,
and well-manicured. When Sister Aloysius and he finally have
their final confrontation, the main thing he wants to know is
another parallelism. She browbeats young Sister Anne by repeat-
ing, "What have you *seen*?" That is exactly what Father Flynn
wants to know, too. When asked why, he shouts, "Because I want
to *know*!"
What if he really is just like Donald, a person with homosexual
tendencies, but (like Donald) someone who has never acted on
them, and has done his best to be a good priest, and to help the
people in his care? But what if (like Donald), he lives with the
everpresent fear that someone will see "inside him," to the
thing he's never acted upon?
My theory is mine because I think this explanation is the one
that best explains all the facts presented onscreen and the body
language of Philip Seymour Hoffman in portraying Father Flynn. It
explains his anguish. It explains his concern about the things
that Sister Aloysius may have *seen*, and that led her to believe
that he was gay. It explains his decision to leave that church
and go to another one. But most of all, it explains his obvious
compassion.
Father Flynn -- *whatever* his actions -- is a compassionate being.
More than anyone else in the play except possibly Sister Anne, he
is driven by an understanding of other people and a desire to help
them. Sister Aloysius is not, and she does not fully understand
why and how he is. When Father Flynn asks her, "Where is your
compassion?" her response is as cold as her heart: "Nowhere you
can get at it!"
But Father Flynn's compassion is on his sleeve. He really *does*
care about these kids, and about fragile Sister Anne. He even cares
about Sister Aloysius, the woman who is trying to destroy his career
in the Church and put an end to his calling as a priest.
The film is dedicated to the real Sister Anne, one of John Patrick
Shanley's teachers when *he* attended Catholic schools, in the very
era in which the film is set. He credits her with having to some
extent saved his life by being one of the first people to have had
compassion for him, in an environment in which priests and nuns were
bullies and tyrants, and who literally beat the kids with their fists.
But a few of them -- some of them gay -- showed him compassion, and
showed him that compassion could exist. That compassion has been the
hallmark of his plays ever since. I think that this play and this
film are his way of saying "Thank you" to them for that. And of
sharing their lesson with the world.
Here, for those who are as fascinated by the film as I am, is an
excerpt from an article/interview with Shanley from the New York
Times, November 2004. I don't find anything in it that contradicts
my theory. But it's just a theory, and as in the film -- and in
life -- doubts may exist as to whether it is true.
>From From the beginning, Shanley went to Catholic schools. The Sisters
of Charity, who ran St. Anthony's Grammar School, which he attended in
the Bronx and has written about in ''Doubt,'' were the sympathetic
antithesis to the Irish Christian Brothers who ran Cardinal Spellman
High School. ''They beat children with their fists,'' Shanley said.
''I saw a 220-pound brother put a boy, a little gangly boy, against a
wall and hit him in the stomach as hard as he could.''
Shanley's response to that environment was to become a professional
problem child. In religion class, he insisted he did not believe in
God. In the cafeteria, he flung mashed potatoes over his shoulder
often enough to get banned from the hot-lunch program. He read science
fiction books during all his classes and spent five days a week, every
week for most of the two years he was there in detention before the
brothers finally kicked him out.
He went instead to the Thomas Moore Preparatory School, a private
school with a Catholic orientation, in Harrisville, N.H., which
afforded him a few humane teachers. It was their kindness, actually,
that was among the reasons he wrote ''Doubt,'' in which a nun suspects
a priest of being a bit too interested in a young boy. The strength of
the play is how skillfully Shanley exposes the two sides to every
suspicion.
''It was homosexual teachers for the most part who saved me,'' Shanley
said. ''The head of discipline at Thomas Moore was gay, and he was my
friend and protector. Did he have his reasons for being interested in
me? Everybody has their reasons. Passion fuels many things, and it's
used in many ways. Many of these people never cross the line.''
Shanley's relative, unfortunately, was not as lucky. ''A child in my
family was molested by a priest,'' he said. ''The parents went first
to the local level, then up the chain of command to a highly placed
church official, who took them by the hands and said: 'I'm so sorry
this happened to you. I will take care of it.' And then he promoted
him. They were so shocked that they left the church for 10 years. But
they missed it, so they returned to a parish where the monsignor gave
a sermon saying that with these church scandals it was the parents,
not the clergy, who were responsible. They had to leave the church again.
''And still another reason I wrote this play is that I'm very aware
that debate has become the form of communication, like on 'Crossfire.'
There is no room or value placed on doubt, which is one of the
hallmarks of the wise man. It's getting harder and harder in this
society to find a place for spacious, true intellectual exchange. It's
all becoming about who won the argument, which is just moronic.''
