If Hollywood is for us, who can be against? What makes a movie 'Catholic'

National Catholic Reporter, Nov 5, 2004 by Angelo Stagnaro

I've always been of the opinion that the media, in general, is actually very pro-Catholic. It's hard to argue that Hollywood is anti-Catholic when it makes such movies as "A Man for All Seasons" (1966), "The Shoes of the Fisherman" (1968), "Brother Sun, Sister Moon" (1972) and "The Passion of the Christ" (2004). Certainly there are going to be theologically confusing movies such as "The Omen" (1976), "End of Days" and "Stigmata" (both 1999), but these are exceptions.

So far, the sex abuse scandal in the Catholic church isn't appreciably altering this positive portrayal of Catholicism. The recent film "Therese: The Story of Saint Therese of Lisieux" (Luke Films) is a case in point. "Therese" is an independent film, and its serious, reflective tone should appeal to many Catholics. The plot is based on Therese's posthumously published autobiography, The Story of a Soul. The movie unfolds slowly, very much like the Little Flower led her life. Whereas many heroic movies require obvious stages of development, as in "The Sound of Music" (1965) or "Joan of Arc" (1999), "Therese" instead portrays the quiet, largely unnoticed life of a woman desperately in love with the Lord; a woman who trusted God even when, seemingly, he was not present.

Because of the success of Mel Gibson's "Passion," Director Leonardo Defilippis felt confident about his "Therese" project. He partially financed the film's multimillion-dollar budget through flower sales organized by schoolchildren.

It has been said by some non-Catholic reviewers that the movie requires a great deal to be accepted on faith. To these people, I say: "I'm glad you get the point." "Therese" is refreshingly presumptuous, in the same sense that "Boystown" (1938), "The Bells of St Mary's" (1945) or "The Singing Nun" (1966) are presumptuous: In these films, faith is a given and the story is developed from there. Unless one has a thorough understanding of the Little Flower and/or Catholic Christian piety, or at least is open to a sense of mystery in one's life, one can't necessarily appreciate "Therese."

Defillipis understood that a movie about St. Therese's "Little Way" could never be adequately portrayed in a mega-blockbuster with a cast of thousands and computer-generated special effects. It would have been inappropriate to portray Therese's struggle toward true sanctity in any other way than he did. Members of the audience need to rely on their own personal spiritual struggles to comprehend this. In this regard, the film is made for us as a believing community, and the movie's very existence is a refutation to those who insist that Hollywood has completely abandoned people of faith.

We shouldn't disregard those movies and television shows that are not specifically based on Catholic themes but pay flashes of attention to Catholic presence. Sometimes characters do a quick sign of the cross--either in prayerful supplication (as when "Seinfeld's" Elaine committed a faux pas in doing so at a Hindu wedding) or even in resignation to impending death (as Bonnie Bedelia's character did in "Die Hard II" when she believed her plane was about to crash). And in "Volcano," when the train supervisor gave up his life to rescue an unconscious engineer from burning to death in a stalled subway car, he offered a heartfelt "Hail Mary."

In "Seinfeld's" last episode, George Costanza (Jason Alexander), when arrested for not offering assistance to a man in need, asked in wonderment, "Why would we help people? That's what nuns are for!" Once the laughter died down among my friends at the Seinfeld wrap-up party I attended, one person yelled, "Wow! Two points for the Catholics!"

Add to this the plethora of vampire movies and television shows that depict denizens of the night being repulsed by a cross. In "Angel" and "Buffy the Vampire Slayer," crosses and vials of holy water (blessed by a Catholic priest) were predominant thematic weapons. Whenever ultimate, unearthly, cosmic evil needs to be confronted and destroyed, who ya' gonna call? The Baptists? The Methodists? The Seventh-day Adventists? Hardly. With all due respect to those denominations, most filmmakers don't credit them with the spiritual acumen that they give to even the lowliest Catholic priest. A play on this stereotype was used in "The Drew Carey Show," when a Protestant minister was called in to exorcise the office. He caught a glimpse of the colorfully made-up Mimi, only to turn to Drew and say, "This is over my head. I think you'd better get the Catholics!"

"Hellboy" (2004), directed by self-professed lapsed Catholic Guillermo del Toro, stands as a fascinating example. I found "Hellboy" to be the most Catholic film in my lifetime, other than something obvious such as "Jesus Christ Superstar." It's not merely Catholic in its physical trappings of piety or "ethnic Catholicism." It exhibits real Catholic theology.

The story begins during World War II. The opening scene shows our heroes under the protective aegis of an enormous crucifix in a Scottish Benedictine abbey. A platoon of American commandos is working in conjunction with the devoutly Catholic Professor Bruttenholm. The professor is the founder and head of the U.S. government's Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense in Newark, N.J. The bureau apparently works with the FBI and the Vatican to root out evil throughout the world.