Criteria: The Catholic Film Podcast

For decades critics said Orson Welles’s Citizen Kane was the greatest film ever made. Unfortunately, that intimidating label sometimes keeps people from sitting down and watching the thing. It needn’t be so. Kane is eminently watchable and entertaining. It also definitely isn’t the greatest film of all time, but it’s one of the most technically impressive, especially considering it was directed, produced, co-written and starred in by a 25-year-old who’d never made a movie before. The titular Charles Foster Kane is a character very recognizable to Americans, the larger-than-life business mogul-turned-celebrity who dabbles in politics. Many details of Kane’s private life are known to the general public, but the film tells us that there’s more to a person than what’s said in the newspapers – perhaps especially when that person was himself a newspaperman who took pride in controlling public perception. Kane’s complicated, puzzle-like story structure suggests that fully boring down into the mystery of a man’s life may be impossible, but also makes us feel that the effort to get beneath the façade is worthwhile. Citizen Kane was included on the Vatican’s 1995 list of important films under the category of Art.

James and Thomas wrap up their series of episodes on film noir with a discussion of Billy Wilder's acerbic and vastly entertaining critique of Hollywood avarice and vanity, Sunset Boulevard. The movie business from the beginning has created some sad and grotesque figures, and this film focuses on two in particular. One is the sad and deluded has-been celebrity. Sunset Boulevard gets "meta" in its reflection of the perils of star-worship, especially in the character of Norma Desmond, a former silent film idol played unforgettably by a real-life former silent film star, Gloria Swanson. The other Hollywood type this film shows us is the ambitious loser. Film noir protagonists tend to be losers, and indeed the loser seems like a distinctly American archetype, the flip-side of the American dream with its expectation that one should always be advancing one's station in life. Perhaps no place generates losers like L.A., and in Sunset Boulevard we get our man in down-and-out screenwriter Joe Gillis, played by William Holden. Music is The Duskwhales, “Take It Back”, used with permission. https://theduskwhales.bandcamp.com This podcast is a production of CatholicCulture.org. If you like the show, please consider supporting us! http://catholicculture.org/donate/audio

There are two movies about St. Francis of Assisi on the Vatican's 1995 list of important films. The first, discussed in the previous episode, is Rossellini's well-known Flowers of St. Francis (1950). The second is quite obscure: Liliana Cavani's Francesco (1989), starring Mickey Rourke as St. Francis and Helena Bonham-Carter as St. Clare. The best thing one can say about Francesco is that despite being directed by an atheist, it attempts to take its protagonist seriously as a saint; that it is somewhat faithful to the historical trajectory of his life; and that it does not embrace the usual reductive cliches about St. Francis. Those qualities alone do not make for an interesting film, however, and Francesco would be a fairly rote biopic were it not for the casting of Mickey Rourke. But this casting choice is more of a curiosity than it is a strength of the film. For all the sincerity of Rourke's performance, the lovable personality of Francis as universally attested by early biographies is almost totally missing. This may be a deliberate artistic choice to strip St. Francis of a "superficial" charisma, in order to draw our attention to a deeper mystery at his core. But how much of the historical personality of Francis can we afford to lose before the exercise becomes fruitless? And speaking of stripping, while it's true that a few famous incidents in St. Francis's life involved nudity, the way these are handled onscreen is far from edifying... In this episode, James Majewski, Thomas Mirus and Nathan Douglas attempt to make sense of the most dubious selection on the Vatican film list. Music is The Duskwhales, “Take It Back”, used with permission. https://theduskwhales.bandcamp.com This podcast is a production of CatholicCulture.org. If you like the show, please consider supporting us! http://catholicculture.org/donate/audio

The great Italian director Roberto Rossellini made what is generally regarded as the best movie about St. Francis of Assisi. Its original Italian title is Francesco, giullare di Dio ("Francis, God's jester"), but in English it is known as The Flowers of St. Francis - the film being based on a 14th-century Italian novel with the same title. As the Italian title suggests, Rossellini wanted to focus on the whimsical aspects of the saint's personality. He sought to capture “the merrier aspect of the Franciscan experience, on the playfulness, the ‘perfect delight,’ the freedom that the spirit finds in poverty, and in an absolute detachment from material things," all elements he had found in the book on which the film was based. The film faithfully imitates the simple poignant and amusing charm of its source material, right down to its structure as a series of vignettes with no overarching plot. Like the book, it is about St. Francis's followers as much as the saint himself, and particularly focuses on the misadventures of Brother Juniper, as found in the Life of Brother Juniper, a text associated with The Little Flowers of St. Francis. In keeping with Rossellini's prior work as one of the founders of Italian neo-realism, the film uses almost no professional actors: all the Franciscan characters are played by real Franciscan monks. This too contributes to the film's purity and simplicity - an appropriate tribute to St. Francis. The film is one of two about St. Francis that were included on the Vatican's 1995 list of important films. The next episode will be about the other: Liliana Cavani's Francesco (1989). Music is The Duskwhales, “Take It Back”, used with permission. https://theduskwhales.bandcamp.com This podcast is a production of CatholicCulture.org. If you like the show, please consider supporting us! http://catholicculture.org/donate/audio

Continuing through the Vatican's 1995 list of important films, in the section of Art we find the universally beloved 1939 musical The Wizard of Oz. The film is undeniably delightful and magical, but suffers from the attempt to provide a moral of dubious coherence. The film is about a band of characters seeking various virtues, but at the end we aren't quite sure where virtue comes from, and are left with a sense of disillusionment both within Oz (the Wizard being a phony) and with regard to the whole story (having been a dream). Nearly half a century later, Wizard got a sequel in Walter Murch's Return to Oz (1985) - but a sequel in plot terms only, with a very different spirit and style. For one thing, Return is more faithful to its source material in the stories of L. Frank Baum, who was inspired by Lewis Carroll's insistence that children stories don't need a lesson at the end. This approach too has its liabilities, because while a shoehorned theme is bad, so is realizing halfway through a movie that the series of events one has been watching, while charming and inventive, doesn't have much of a point. Return is also significantly scarier than Wizard, as one of a number of whimsical but dark fantasy films made in the mid-80s (alongside Labyrinth and The Dark Crystal). The films can also be contrasted in their visual concepts, each compelling in its own way. Where Wizard opts for overtly artificial yet delightful sets, Return offers a more fully realized world, appropriately since the film rejects the idea that Oz is a dream. Music is The Duskwhales, “Take It Back”, used with permission. https://theduskwhales.bandcamp.com This podcast is a production of CatholicCulture.org. If you like the show, please consider supporting us! http://catholicculture.org/donate/audio

Thomas Mirus, James Majewski, and Nathan Douglas discuss the new Amazon series, The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power. The show thus far is not so much offensive as it is bland in ways similar to much popular film and television today. This discussion attempts to understand why the show generally fails to move, focusing especially on its frequent small-mindedness or arbitrariness in characterization and writing, and on its habit of “telegraphing” or signalling emotion rather than genuinely conveying it. (We apologize for the lip-syncing problems in this episode!) Topics and timestamps: 0:00 Introduction 3:27 The “Game-of-Thronesification” of character motivation 9:34 Galadriel, Valinor, and the elves’ artistic motivations 18:01 A graceless Galadriel and small-minded writing 29:02 Contrasting performances: Galadriel vs. Elrond 35:21 Failure to trust that virtue is interesting 37:59 “IT’S A SNOW TROOOOOOLL!” The “John-Wickification” of action 41:00 Generic tough girl face; telegraphing emotion rather than living it 52:44 Arbitrary conflict and fussy dwarves 59:06 Starting at level 1: the “video-gamification” of character development 1:06:00 Too much harfoot-talk: cliché TV dialogue with a hobbity skin 1:15:09 The political conversation around the show 1:25:40 Shallow and arbitrary diversity is self-defeating 1:37:07 Erasing womanhood in the pursuit of “strong female characters” Links Read Nathan Douglas's film writing here https://vocationofcinema.substack.com Music is The Duskwhales, “Take It Back”, used with permission. https://theduskwhales.bandcamp.com This podcast is a production of CatholicCulture.org. If you like the show, please consider supporting us! http://catholicculture.org/donate/audio

Catholic art historian Elizabeth Lev returns to Criteria to discuss two films about Michelangelo. The Agony and The Ecstasy (1965), directed by Carol Reed and starring Charlton Heston as Michelangelo and Rex Harrison as Pope Julius II, is what Italians call an "Americanata" - an unapologetically bombastic, colorful Hollywood transformation of Italian or Roman history. It focuses on the conflict and collaboration between Michelangelo and his papal patron in the project of painting the Sistine Chapel. Sin (2019), directed by Andrei Konchalovsky, gives us a gritty, filthy Renaissance Florence and Rome and a Michelangelo who is something like a lovable hobo, outstandingly performed by Alberto Testone. Sin takes place in the fallow period of Michelangelo's career immediately after he painted the Sistine ceiling, in which his work was stalled by the conflict between his two patrons, the Della Rovere and Medici families. Rather than showing Michelangelo making art, it shows his spiritual and economic struggles during this period. As hesitant as the title Sin might make us, Elizabeth Lev praises it for correctly identifying avarice and pride as Michelangelo's sins, rather than focusing on the question of his sexuality as many do today. (Though the film is not free of sexual content involving other characters.) Fifty years ago, Konchalovsky co-wrote the greatest film about an artist: Andrei Rublev (directed by Andrei Tarkovsky). He identifies Sin as a continuation of the themes of Rublev. Indeed, both of these films about Michelangelo share with Rublev the tension between artistic/religious integrity and working for patrons who may be commissioning religious works for worldly motives. Links https://www.elizabeth-lev.com Music is The Duskwhales, “Take It Back”, used with permission. https://theduskwhales.bandcamp.com This podcast is a production of CatholicCulture.org. If you like the show, please consider supporting us! http://catholicculture.org/donate/audio

In his book on film noir, Arts of Darkness, Catholic philosopher Thomas Hibbs writes: "Subverting the rationality of the pursuit of happiness, noir turns the American dream into a nightmare. Noir also undercuts the Enlightenment vision of the city as the locus of human bliss, wherein human autonomy and rational economics could combine to bring about the satisfaction of human desire." Sweet Smell of Success is a sterling example of this theme in noir. "Success" is one of the great American idols, and the two acid-tongued protagonists of this film entertainingly embody the dark side of success in the seeking and the finding, as desperate publicity man Sidney Falco (Tony Curtis) eats dirt instead of gravy from the train of ruthless gossip columnist J.J. Hunsecker (Burt Lancaster). It's almost like Wormtongue and Saruman in Times Square, if Saruman's main goal were to stop his kid sister from marrying a jazz guitarist. But we don't want to spoil it for you... Music is The Duskwhales, “Take It Back”, used with permission. https://theduskwhales.bandcamp.com This podcast is a production of CatholicCulture.org. If you like the show, please consider supporting us! http://catholicculture.org/donate/audio

Bicycle Thieves, the most beloved classic of Italian neo-realist cinema, would be too easily explained as depicting the crushing pressures of poverty and societal dysfunction in Rome immediately following World War II. But the film transcends any sociological analysis: it has something spiritual to say about how those in poverty can respond to their situation. James Majewski argues that the film is about trust or the lack thereof. It shows how quickly things get worse when we act as though we are in control of our circumstances. The film also defies any suspicion that something with the name “neo-realism”, which uses real locations and non-professional actors in order to better document social realities, will necessarily be drab, materialist and undramatic. Screenwriter Cesare Zavattini’s neo-realist slogan, “Life as it is”, is clarified by director Vittorio de Sica’s explanation of why he decided to make a film about the theft of a bicycle: “Uncovering the drama in everyday life, the wonderful in the daily news.” Bicycle Thieves is included on the Vatican’s 1995 list of important films, in the category of Values. Music is The Duskwhales, “Take It Back”, used with permission. https://theduskwhales.bandcamp.com This podcast is a production of CatholicCulture.org. If you like the show, please consider supporting us! http://catholicculture.org/donate/audio

On the morning of January 15, 1944, Nazis raided a boarding school for boys in Avon, France. The Carmelite monks who ran the school had been hiding some Jewish boys there under false names. As a number of the children and teachers watched, three of their classmates were led away by the Nazis, along with the headmaster, Pere Jacques, who turned back to say only, "Au revoir, les enfants" ("Goodbye, children"). The three boys died in Auschwitz, and the priest went to Mauthausen, dying only a few weeks after the camp was liberated by US forces. Among the children standing by on that unforgettable day was the future French film director Louis Malle. Decades later in 1987, he would memorialize the experience, the boys and the priest (whose cause for canonization was opened in 1990). The film is included on the Vatican's 1995 list of important movies under the category of Values. But Au Revoir les Enfants is about much more than the Holocaust. The bulk of the film is a kind of slice-of-life experience of a French Catholic boarding school. The children in the story don't know what is going on behind the scenes, and Malle proves deft at developing the plot in an unemphatic and invisible manner until the end. It is a coming-of-age story, a Holocaust story, and the story of a heroic priest-martyr all in one. Note: In this episode, we mistakenly referred to the main character as “Lucien”. His name, in fact, is Julien. Article about Pere Jacques: https://www.criterion.com/current/posts/1781-au-revoir-les-enfants-p-re-jacques-and-the-petit-coll-ge-d-avon This podcast is a production of CatholicCulture.org. If you like the show, please consider supporting us! http://catholicculture.org/donate/audio