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Do unto others. For more information, contact: Gary Schouborg, PhD (925) 932-1982 |
Schouborg, Gary (2009). "Boundaries: Review of the movie, Doubt." Boundaries: Review of the movie, Doubt Gary
Schouborg Had my wife Nini
not attached the leash to the ring through my nose and dragged me to see it,
I would never have chosen to go to the movie Doubt, since my
impression was that it was the same old tired discussion of priest
pedophiles. Some reviewers have seen Doubt as a whodunit polemic
against moral intolerance. Though that may be the creators' intent, the film
itself is richer and subtler than that. It’s a brilliant exploration of the
role of doubt and conviction in the dialectic between intimacy and personal
boundaries. If you haven't
seen the movie and don't want to know about two major surprises in the plot,
read no further. I can't make my point without revealing them. Father Flynn
(Philip Seymour Hoffman) is the progressive priest for whom kindness takes
priority over belief and rules. Sister Aloysius Beauvier
(Meryl Streep in a quirky tour de force) is the
conservative nun for whom conviction and rules govern. Sister James (Amy
Adams) is the innocent every-person who isn't sure which of the two philosophies
to follow, condemning neither and open to what each may have to offer. Donald
Miller (Joseph Foster) is the first and lone black student in a Catholic high
school of Irish and Italian children. Miller's mother (Viola Davis in a
stunningly artless performance) defends him against his father, who
physically abuses him for being gay, the students, who could lash out against
him
at any moment, and Sister
Aloysius, who would sacrifice him on the altar of her moral and prosecutorial
convictions. Father Flynn's
warm kindness and Sister Aloysius's cold intolerance are their most obvious
traits. Yet there is also a troubling softness to Father Flynn, one that
raises doubt whether he is wholly kind or also indulging a need for approval
that blinds him to what is truly good for the youngsters in his care. In
contrast, Sister Aloysius is truly kind to those whose need is obvious: the
older, failing sisters in her community. She is also shrewd and practical,
aware that the students' welfare often requires tough love, though she
maniacally over-does the toughness. The interaction among these five personalities drives not only a
compelling whodunit and polemic against intolerance, but at a deeper level,
an interplay between intimacy and personal boundaries. Five scenes are
particularly revealing. The first is Sister Aloysius’s care to follow the rule that she and
any priest not be in her office alone. The rule unnecessarily distances her
from Father Flynn. But it also prevents both parties from being open to
unfounded suspicions. After all, had Father Flynn and Donald always had a
witness to their meetings, there would be no suspicion, even from Sister
Aloysius, that their encounters were sexual. In the second scene, Sister James uncharacteristically asserts herself
toward a student who disrespects her in class. A sensitive, timid,
inexperienced, and unassertive young nun, she wins our approval in finally
standing up for herself. Yet almost immediately, she apologizes to the
student when she sees how mortified he is by her unexpected forcefulness.
This is a highly ambiguous, subtle scene that can be read several ways. Those
focusing on intolerance can see her as recognizing her error in judging the student
to have done something wrong. Those focused on personal development can see
her as rightly sticking up for herself but unable at this early stage to
maintain her posture, quickly backing down lest she make anyone an enemy. But
within the framework that I'm drawing here between personal boundaries and
emotional intimacy, there is revealed the difficulty of asserting oneself
while maintaining intimacy. New to the skill, Sister James distances herself
from the student while rightly insisting that she be respected. Recognizing
the resulting rift between them and valuing intimacy more than anything else,
she apologizes to the student in order to repair the breach. The film could
have let us know that a more integrated Sister James could have asserted herself
while maintaining intimacy. Whether deliberately or not, whether
unfortunately or not, the film does not present us with that possibility. In the third scene, Sister Aloysius reveals to Donald’s mother that
she herself was married before becoming a nun. We are stunned to find this
out. What are we to make of it? Was she happily married and embittered by
losing her husband in the war? Or was she a frigid woman who was freed by her
husband's death to become a nun free to follow her moral convictions and traditional
preferences? Or what other clues to her character might this revelation give
us? The fourth scene is the most morally sensitive one, where Donald’s
mother reveals to Sister Aloysius that her son is gay and being physically
abused by his father for it. Rather than disgusted by the possibility that
Father Flynn has seduced Donald, she is grateful for the priest's love for
the boy in a world where the boy is loved by no one else. She therefore
confronts Sister Aloysius, explaining how exposure of the alleged
relationship between Father Flynn and Donald would only hurt the boy, and
challenging Sister Aloysius whether she's on the boy's side or that of her
heavy-handed moral understanding of love. In the final scene, Sister Aloysius confesses to Sister James her own
doubts. About what, she doesn't say. About Father Flynn? About her faith?
About her many convictions of how life ought to be lived, including an almost
moral fervor in her preference for fountain pens over ball-points? About how
her grasping for conviction has robbed her of emotional intimacy with others?
Characteristically, and with great integrity, the film does not say. In none of these scenes does the film, ruthlessly faithful to its
title, indulge the audience with a clear answer. But the doubt in question is
not primarily the immediately obvious one of whether Father Flynn really did
seduce the boy. In all these scenes, we are left with conflict between
behavior that distances us from others and behavior that draws us to
emotional intimacy. Which does which under what conditions, we are left to
ponder. The genius of the film is that it leaves us ultimately exposed to
ourselves, challenged with our own inner discernment between practicality
that is an emotional Pyrrhic victory and practicality that is constructive;
and between intimacy that is merely feckless sentimentality and intimacy that
is true communion between two flesh and blood mortals. |
