Twenty More Best Catholic Films

Films which directly attempt to be religious, holy, or edifying tend to become sentimental, banal, or mediocre. The best religious films, and therefore the best Catholic films, convey the great truths of Christianity implicitly rather than explicitly, like the mystery of incarnation itself, in which the word became flesh in the person of an obscure carpenter from a small town. With this perspective in mind, then, I suggest twenty more of the best catholic films.

LIFE

1. Ikiru (1952), directed by Akira Kurosawa. An older bureaucrat discovers he has terminal cancer, and in the last six months of his life also discovers how to live, which is what “ikiru” means in Japanese. The first half of the film shows his journey toward the truth; the second half, at his funeral, shows through flashbacks what happened when he found it. If only one film of the twentieth century could survive, this would be my choice.

2. Groundhog Day (1993), directed by Harold Ramis. Groundhog Day reverses the proposition of Ikiru. Instead of being informed that he will soon die, the protagonist, Bill Murray, a nerdy, narcissistic, condescending weatherman from Pittsburgh, discovers that he cannot die. He is trapped, seemingly forever, into a single Groundhog Day in Punxatawney, Pennsylvania, the site of the National Groundhog Festival. Murray, who has been sent to cover this event, must continually relive it, and his seeming immortality teaches him how to be mortal. Like the hero of Ikiru, Murray tries out the worldly pleasures of indulgence, sex, and money, and when they do not work, he turns to despair. But after innumerable attempts either to live a fun day or annihilate himself, he begins to sanctify the time. Whereas Jimmy Stewart in It’s a Wonderful Life discovered what Bedford Falls would have been like had he never lived, Bill Murray discovers how Punxatawney can be transformed into a better place. I do not know the religious affiliation of Danny Rubin, the writer of this film, but I do know that his picture embodies the message taught and lived by many saints.

SACRIFICE

3. City Lights (1930), directed by Charles Chaplin. The Tramp falls in love with a blind flower girl and sets out to raise money so she can afford an operation. For his efforts, which include a supremely comic prizefight, he’s falsely accused of robbery, but not before he gets the money for her cure. When he returns, down and out, ridiculed by nasty boys, she sees him from her prosperous new flower shop, laughs at him, and gives him a rose. In touching him, she recognizes that he, not a millionaire, is her benefactor. The last shot of the Tramp, with the rose in his mouth, is nothing less than a representation of divine love, a figure of one rejected by men who unselfishly saves us.

4. The Champ (1931), directed by King Vidor. If City Lights doesn’t make you cry, The Champ certainly will. An over-the-hill, drunken prize-fighter (Wallace Beery) deliberately alienates his loving son (Jackie Cooper) so that the child will have a better life with his upper class mother. He then wins his last fight for the boy, knowing his own life is at risk. Not unlike the theme of Vidor’s later Stella Dallas (1937) or Ozu’s Late Spring (1949), this film, while remaining positive in spirit, captures much of the ambivalence and difficulties in parent-child relationships.

STRUGGLE

5. The Miracle Worker (1962), directed by Arthur Penn. Films which portray people overcoming handicaps or finding grace through them make up an important film genre. These range from Pride of the Yankees (1942) to Lorenzo’s Oil (1992). Arguably the best of these is The Miracle Worker, the true story of Annie Sullivan’s (Anne Bancroft) efforts to teach the deaf and dumb Helen Keller (Patty Duke) how to communicate.

6. The Quiet Man (1952), directed by John Ford. Almost all of Ford’s best films qualify for this list. Here he shows an Irish-American prize fighter (John Wayne), who, having killed a man in the ring, attempts to retire peacefully to rural Ireland. But having wooed and won Maureen O’Hara, he discovers he must fight her bully brother, Victor McLaglen, to liberate her and win the respect of the community. Reluctantly, he gives McLaglen the thrashing he deserves, whereupon, as often seen in Ford’s films, the former enemies become reconciled.

7. You Can’t Take It With You (1938), directed by Frank Capra. Like his friend Ford, Capra made several of the best Catholic films. This one, an improvement on the Kaufman and Hart play, reconciles class conflict through the marriage of children and overall zaniness. The scene in which Lionel Barrymore and Edward Arnold play “Polly Wolly Doodle” on their harmonicas may be the essence of “Capracorn,” but is the closest thing I know in film to the resurrection of Hermione in Shakespeare’s The Winter’s Tale.

8. Pickpocket (1959), directed by Robert Bresson. Like Ford and Capra, Bresson excelled in making Catholic films. In Pickpocket, he provides his version of Crime and Punishment. Here, however, the hero is not a murderer but an intellectual who with existentialist rationalizations picks pockets. The Sonia figure, a young woman who has helped his ailing mother, leads him, when caught, to the threshold of redemption. After a few exposures to the current Hollywood style of explosions, crumpled fenders, and shattered glass, one appreciates the aesthetic and religious austerity of Bresson.

9. Bachelor Mother (1939), directed by Garson Kanin. Among the great comedies of the thirties, Bachelor Mother should be better known. In it Ginger Rogers is mistakenly assumed to be the mother of an abandoned baby, and accepts this role in order to keep her job. In one of the niftiest comic scripts ever written, David Niven, the playboy heir to the department store where Ginger works, who begins by preaching and condescending to the “fallen” Ginger, must also assume the fatherhood of the child. While promoting male responsibility, the film also serves as a wonderful antidote to the pro-choice ethic of “reproductive rights.”

10. Chariots of Fire (1981), directed by Hugh Hudson. In the spirit of Ut unum sint, we should acknowledge at least one Catholic film with a Protestant orientation. Such is this epic of the 1924 Olympics, where Harold Abrahams (Ben Cross) overcomes anti-semitism, and Eric Liddell (Ian Charleson) sticks to his religious convictions. Happily, the Flying Scot gives full credit to God for making him the fastest man alive. Another Protestant entry would be Tender Mercies (1983) with an amazing performance by Robert Duvall as a country singer.

SIN

11. Quiz Show (1994), directed by Robert Redford. Countless films reveal the folly of the world, but among recent ones Quiz Show stands out. Its script by Paul Attanasio, accurately depicts the process by which all of us, however well meaning, are capable of sliding backwards on the plane of life. Charles Van Doren (Ralphe Fiennes), once ensnared by fame, cannot help himself from descending ever lower into prevarications and falsehood. The face of the network chief perfectly captures the Falstaffian look of the worldly wise, just as Paul Scofield convincingly conveys the essence of Mark Van Doren, the good but somewhat distant father.

12. Pinocchio (1940), directed by Ben Sharpstein and Hamilton Luske. Although Snow White (1938) has a better score, Pinocchio, the second of Disney’s animated features, is the most beautifully drawn. In excitement and invention, the scenes in the whale’s belly surpass anything ever done by the Disney studio, even with the aid of computer graphics. Like the story of Jonah, its distant ancestor, Pinocchio graphically portrays both the consequences of sin and the grace of redemption.

BIBLE

13. The Sign of the Cross (1932), directed by Cecil B. DeMille. Max von Mayerling said that there were three great directors, himself, D.W. Griffith, and Cecil B. DeMille. When one sees this epic, one understands why. It combines the style of the best silent films with the intelligence of the newly imported Broadway writers, in this case Sidney Buchman, future creator of Mr. Smith and Mr. Jordan. It is so visually stunning that it might be mistaken for a work by Von Sternberg or Lubitsch, the other two creators of the famed Paramount style of the early 30s. Claudette Colbert’s sensual bath in asses’ milk seems merely decorous today, and the film has the virtue of rewarding its hero and heroine, Fredric March and Elissa Landi, with martyrdom. Quo Vadis (1951), though in color, is a pale remake, as is The Robe (1953). The latter however, has two great scenes: as he beholds Jesus entering Jerusalem, the ever reliable Victor Mature becomes a believer; as the Tribune Richard Burton stands beneath the cross, a drop of Jesus’s blood falls on his arm. In DeMille’s film Charles Laughton as Nero out-camps both Peter Ustinov and Jay Robinson, his imperial successors.

SAINTS

14. The Passion of Joan of Arc (1928), directed by Carl Dreyer. The austerity and intensity of Dreyer’s work resembles that of Bresson’s, and like Bresson, he centers his films on religious experience. In this silent film, Dreyer follows the text of Joan’s trial, making his version of Joan the most accurate we have. Maria Falconetti as Joan conveys the anguish of the maid before her English inquisitors. As color is to the great black and white films, so spoken dialogue would be to the great silent films.

15. Saint Joan (1957), directed by Otto Preminger. Shaw, though an atheist, had the wit to imagine the difficulties a saint encounters in a world governed by vice and inertia. Ingrid Bergman played Joan effectively in the big Hollywood production, Joan of Arc (1949), but Jean Seberg brings a more convincing naiveté and youth to Preminger’s film of Shaw’s play. The script by Shaw and Graham Greene proves a remarkable asset, as does Richard Widmark’s portrayal of the Dauphin. Best seen in the original black and white.

PRIESTS AND NUNS

16. The Assisi Underground (1984), directed by Alexander Ramati. It is always a pleasure to find a film dealing with the Holocaust which is not hostile to the Church. Shot on location in Assisi, this film shows the work of Father Ruffino (Ben Cross), one of the “Righteous Gentiles,” in sheltering Italian Jews and transporting them to safety during the Nazi occupation. Unlike many World War II melodramas, this one rings true because it is true, and its fine acting (James Mason is the bishop) and simple direction add to the authenticity. As a sign of the film’s charity, Maximilian Schell plays a sympathetic German officer who is also trying to be a Catholic and who deliberately interferes with the atrocious work of the SS.

17. Au Revoir, Les Enfants (1987), directed by Louis Malle. Based on an incident in Malle’s own life, Au Revoir tells the story of several Jewish boys being hidden in a French Catholic boarding school during World War II. The opposite of sentimental, it shows not only the arrogance of the boys but the harshness of the prevailing class system. It is a school employee, a lower class lackey ridiculed by the wealthier students, who turns informer. Conscious of the ironies produced by war, the film has a scene in which a German officer protects an upper-class Jew from being hassled by the French police. But it is just this honesty and complexity, which give the film its punch when the priests and the Jewish boys are led off to the camps.

18. Angels with Dirty Faces (1938), directed by Michael Curtiz. Why Michael Curtiz is not more admired remains one of the mysteries of film history. Among his credits one finds not only Robin Hood (1938), Four Daughters (1938), Yankee Doodle Dandy (1942), and Mildred Pierce (1945), but also the immortal Casablanca (1942), another fine example of the ethic of sacrifice which prevailed in the 30s and 40s. In this film, good gangster Cagney, at the request of his old pal, the priest Pat O’Brien, pretends he’s yellow so as to warn the Dead End Kids against a macho life of crime. Cagney is at his mannered best, and the play of light, the pace and rhythm of the editing, remind us once more of the greatness of the Hollywood studio system.

19. On the Waterfront (1954), directed by Elia Kazan. For once in a Hollywood film, a priest (Karl Malden) does good for the sake of Christ, and says so. He realizes that suffering brings one closer to Him, and says so. And his social action proceeds from the love of Christ, not hatred for the oppressors. Marlon Brando, at the height of his career, deserved his Academy Award in this literate, superbly directed film. Some critics claim that Kazan and Budd Schulberg, the screenwriter, made On the Waterfront to justify their own informing on the Communist Party, but this film is more remarkable in that Kazan and actors such as Lee J. Cobb, distinguished alumni of the leftist Group Theater of the 30s, should see a corrupt labor union as an enemy of the people.

20. The Bells of St. Mary’s (1945), directed by Leo McCarey. No list is complete without an Ingrid Bergman film. In this sequel to Going My Way (1944), she plays a tough Swedish nun who teaches boys the manly art of self-defense, and also gives Bing Crosby’s Father O’Malley some grief. McCarey’s episodic style of construction misses the opportunity of letting Bergman discover for herself that Crosby sends her away not for disagreeing with him but because she has TB. Despite its sentimentality, it contains many edifying scenes and one very funny one, the Our Gang-like school production of the Nativity.

Finally, a note on Jesus of Nazareth (1977): The 6 1/2 hour TV miniseries directed by Franco Zeffirelli has been recommended by a number of readers for inclusion on these lists. This work has the virtue of representing the historic world of Jesus, rendered in authentic looking North African settings, without reducing Him to a mere historic figure. It also features, behind various beards, some of the greatest actors or our century. But it contains flaws as well. Zeffirelli is of the laundry line school of directing and likes nothing better than drapes, veils, lattices, or smoke between the viewer and the action, and punctuates these with overlong processions and unimaginative crane shots. Despite the additions to Scripture which add characters and explain the motives of people like Judas, the film omits the wedding at Cana, the supper at Emmaus, and most of the other events following the Resurrection, and the Ascension. It shifts lines from Jesus to Mary, and worst of all has Jesus saying to Peter, not “upon this rock I will build my Church,” but “upon this rock I will build what I must call my Church.”

Author

  • William Park

    William Park received his undergraduate degree from Princeton and his Ph.D. from Columbia. After teaching at Hamilton College and Columbia, in 1962 he joined the Faculty of Sarah Lawrence College, where, with Wilford Leach, he founded the program in film studies. He is the co-editor of The College Anthology of English and American Poetry and the author of The Idea of Rococo. He has published numerous essays on the novel. His essays on film have appeared in The Hudson Review, The Velvet Light Trap, The Journal of Popular Film, and Crisis. In 1998 he won the Catholic Press Association's award for the "Best Review" of the year. He is the regular film reviewer for the Irish monthly Position Paper. With his wife, Marlene, he now resides in Santa Cruz, California.

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