Have No Doubt

Believe it or not, there's a religious figure out there who's scarier than Rick Warren.


It's Meryl Streep. Actually, it's Meryl Streep as Sister Aloysius, the prinicipal of St. Nicholas School in the Bronx, circa 1964.

I saw Doubt over the weekend, and it was fantastic. It's still in limited release, so those who don't live in a big city probably can't see it yet, but it will hopefully be coming to a theatre near you soon.

SPOILER ALERT: If you don't want to know plot details about the film, don't read beyond this paragraph. However, I will say that having seen the play a few years back, knowing how it ends actually improved my viewing of the film. But, of course, I will leave that up to you ... but here's the trailer, in any event.



Okay, if you're still with me ... here goes.

The plot (and you probably know this much already) centers around a battle between an imperious nun (Streep) and the new parish priest (Philip Seymour Hoffman), whom she accuses of "paying special attention" (code for child molestation) to a young student, who just happens to be the only African-American student in the school. Sister Aloysius believes that he chose this young boy because he's isolated from the other students based on his race, and therefore less likely to tell. For his part, Father Flynn furiously denies the charges, and states emphatically and repeatedly that Sister Aloysius is a cruel woman who mistakes kindness as a perversion. Okay, so that much you probably knew already.

What makes the film (and the play it's based on) so interesting is that you never really find out whether or not Flynn is guilty of the crime he's been accused of. John Patrick Shanley, the playwright, screenwriter, and director of the film version, doesn't seem that interested in whether or not Flynn actually misbehaved with the young boy; rather, he's concerned with why people believe what they believe, even when they have no proof. Oh, and all of the main characters in the piece just happen to be members of the clergy. Hm.

The only thing we know for certain is that Sister Aloysius believes what she believes, and that's good enough for her. The role of Father Flynn is trickier, and I would imagine very difficult to play. The script would give an actor no indication whether or not the priest is guilty of molesting a young boy, yet it's clear that the audience is meant to go back and forth, believing one moment and disbelieving the next, depending on who is speaking at any given time.

The counterpoint for both Sister Aloysius and Father Flynn is young Sister James. In the movie, James is played by Amy Adams, who I've loved ever since I saw her in Junebug a few years back. (Have you seen it? If not, and I sincerely mean this, rent it immediately; it remains one of the most original and charming movies I've ever seen.) Adams is fantastic in this movie, as a nun who works for both Sister Aloysius and Father Flynn, and often doesn't know what to think; in that way, she's the link with the audience for much of the film.

And the other major figure in Doubt (there are only four actors needed in the stage version) is Mrs. Miller, played by Viola Davis. There's a huge amount of Oscar buzz around Davis this year for her performance, which is noteworthy only because she has about eleven or twelve minutes of screen time. However, the bulk of that time is spent going head-to-head with Meryl Streep. I thought Davis was excellent in a difficult role, but what's so intriguing about the role, and the scene, are the words that come out of her mouth. What Mrs. Miller does for Doubt is take a seemingly simple construct (did the priest diddle the kid or not), and make it really complex, really fast. Her point of view suddenly makes dynamics such as race and sexual orientation matter. She's very upfront about the fact that her son's "nature" (she clearly believes him to be gay, although she never says the word) causes problems at home (he is routinely beaten by his father, and she feels powerless to stop it). Quite frankly, she's grateful to any man who shows the least bit of kindness to her son, even if it's entirely possible that the kindness is inextricably linked to sexual abuse; she prefers it to the physical abuse he receives at home, and wonders if it's even doing that much harm, since the boy was clearly gay before he ever met with Father Flynn alone in the rectory. More than anything, she wants her son to graduate with the rest of the 8th grade class, because she knows more than anyone what the future holds for an uneducated black man in the Bronx.

The subtitle for the play, when it was presented on Broadway was, "A Parable," but the inclusion of Mrs. Miller lifts the story out of pure theatricality and makes it almost as messy as real life.

And there's lots of gender stuff to think about as well. As depicted in Doubt, the priests clearly have a lot more fun than the nuns at St. Nicholas Parish, though it's difficult to know if this would change if the dour Sister Aloysius weren't in charge of the convent. But in the first confrontation between the nun and the priest at the center of the story, a fascinating thing happens. The scene takes place in the principal's office, and during some meaningless small talk about the upcoming Christmas pageant, Father Flynn plops himself down in Sister Aloysius' chair. He doesn't have any idea how disrespectful he's being, and it's painfully clear that neither Sister Aloysius nor Sister James have any right to bring this to his attention. When the situation between Flynn and Aloysius erupts into all-out warfare, the priest tries, on two separate occasions, to gain the upper hand by reminding the nun that she is subservient to him simply because he is a man. To her credit, she's having none of it, and maintains that the safety of her students is more important than the institutionalized sexism of the Catholic church.

And it's for this reason that I ultimately side with the stern and sometimes cruel nun, at the expense of the jovial, affable, likeable young priest. Whether or not he actually did anything wrong, it was clear to me that she is primarily motivated by a vulnerable child, whereas he seems motivated by his own authority to do exactly what he wants, exactly the way he wants to do it. He does give some lovely speeches about the virtue of kindness, and they're quite convincing. And one does wonder whether or not Sister Aloysius goes after the priest out of a need to strike back against her oppressor. On the other hand, we all know now that pedophilia (a word never uttered in the film) has been an epidemic in the Catholic church for some time. On the other hand, Sister Aloysius has no proof beyond the circumstantial and Father Flynn's fingernails. And we never find out, because this is a movie for grown-ups.

I just love Oscar season; I wish it would never end.