Now that I have Netflix, I’ve been watching a lot of movies, some of which remind me of famous books (see previous post). This time it was the 2008 film Doubt about a very severe nun who accuses a priest of child abuse on very flimsy, though compelling, evidence. The priest resigns his position, which the nun takes as his confession, but in the end she breaks down and confesses to another nun that she has “such doubt” about his guilt.
Most friends that I talked to about the film thought the priest was guilty, but I was not so sure; indeed, at the end of the film, I leaned toward his innocence, at least in this case.
The film is deliberately ambiguous, as are many great works of literature. I was struck by the theme of gossip and the use of the wind blowing around the autumn leaves as a symbol of suspicious talk, speculation, and allegations about others based on ambiguous appearances.
I was reminded of the 1878 novella Daisy Miller by Henry James about a young American woman in Europe who is destroyed by malicious gossip about her sexual activity, gossip that is based on unconventional, but completely harmless, behavior.
Daisy dies of malaria, which she catches while out at night unchaperoned with a man at the Roman Coliseum. Literally, “malaria” means “bad air,” a symbol, like the wind in Doubt, of malicious gossip. Like those who were sacrificed in public at the ancient Coliseum, Daisy serves as a modern-day sacrificial victim of social judgment.
Whenever I have taught the book, it has stirred heated discussion, some seeing Daisy as an innocent victim, others seeing her as a shameless “flirt” and “tease,” if not entirely a “slut.” Some readers complain about the ambiguity: “Why can’t he say what he means?” “Why leave us in such doubt?”
Indeed, what is the value of ambiguity and doubt, whether it be in literature or film? My answer is that the fictional situation is a rehearsal, if you will, or reenactment, of our actual life experience, so often full of ambiguity and doubt, despite our frequent, sometimes desperate, clinging to certainty.
Certainty is comforting, doubt is real.
ReplyDeleteWhat's difficult is gauging the degree of probability.
ReplyDeleteI saw this as a play in theater in the round. It was an extremely compelling performance, particularly since the priest played his part as a younger gay man, as well. This resonated with me, being a PFLAG mom, and how our culture has dealt with the equity surrounding that issue, preferring to make it a religious issue rather than one of acceptance and love for all. Again, as you say, creating a ambiguity and doubt regarding the values and decisions made throughout our lives.
ReplyDeleteThanks for the comment. I didn't put it in the blog, but I thought the film could have been viewed as a metaphor for religious doubt/certainty.
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