Constructing a priest

Constructing a priest, silencing a saint: The PCA and I Confess (1953).

Film History, 2007 by Amy Lawrence

Constructing a priest, silencing a saint: The PCA and I Confess (1953) Constructing a priest, silencing a saint:The PCA and I Confess (1953) Amy Lawrence Cinematicrepresentationsofreligiousfigures have always risked raising the ire of audiences. When Alfred Hitchcock proposed making a film about a priest suspected of murder, hardly anyone thought the project was a good idea. As early as October 1947, Lee Wright of Simon & Schuster's `Inner Sanctum Mysteries' wrote to Katherine Brown at MCA, regarding a proposed tie-in with the film. Wright wrote, `There's no doubt that the basic idea . is a very interesting one. I'm afraid though that in my opinion it has been worked out very badly'.1 Brown agreed. `Please don't tell Hitch, as it's none of my business, but I thought the story frighteningly bad, and I hope he makes enormous changes before he does it as a picture'.2 By the time the film I Confess began shooting at the end of August, 1952, the story had been revised numerous times as the producers struggled to address fundamental problems with the concept.3 The kernel around which the film is built is the main character's refusal to speak. Framed for mur- der by a killer who has confessed to him in the first few minutes of the film, Father Michael Logan (Montgomery Clift) refuses to violate the secrecy of the confessional even after he is accused of adultery and the murder of his married lover's blackmailer. Arrested and put on trial for his life, his best defense is a meager `I can't say'. Every major character in the film tries to provoke a response from Father Logan only to be exasperated by his silence. Critics have been equally frustrated, seldom discussing the film except to express a fundamental dissatisfaction. The most generous, Robin Wood, declares the film to be `earnest, distinguished, very interesting, and on the whole a failure'.4 Because the character's motivation is as opaque to the audience as it is to the other charac- ters in the film, the central mystery around which the film is constructed remains unresolved. The implied answer to the question of why he will not speak even to save his own life is simply `Because he is a priest'. This response, however, raises more questions than it answers. Why does it mean so much to Logan to be a priest? Why did he become a priest in the first place? How does he feel about the situation in which now he finds himself? While Logan's silence has often been attrib- uted to the strictures of his vocation, the film's pro- duction history reveals other reasons why the character's thoughts remain unspoken. In addition to an intractable story problem that seems to mandate the main character's passivity, the filmmakers found themselves dealing with an unusual degree of pre- production scrutiny. Objections to I Confess came from a variety of sources, including religious officials, publishers, and members of the public. As a conse- quence, every aspect of the project was subjected to a series of negotiations long before production began.5 Ironically, however, these attempts to elimi- nate potentially offensive material had the unin- tended result of suppressing anything that might convey a sense of the character's spiritual life. Film History, Volume 19, pp. 58?72, 2007. Copyright ? John Libbey Publishing ISSN: 0892-2160. Printed in United States of America Amy Lawrence is Professor of Film and Television Studies at Dartmouth College. She is the author of Echo and Narcissus: Women's Voices in Classical Hollywood Cinema (1991), The Films of Peter Greenaway (1997), and many essays in Film Quarterly, Quarterly Review of Film and Video, Film Criticism, Style and Wide Angle. Correspondence to Amy.L.Lawrence@Dartmouth.edu FILM HISTORY: Volume 19, Number 1, 2007 ? p. 58 À `A priest has just murdered a man' In September of 1947 Louis Verneuil presented Al- fred Hitchcock with a screen treatment, labeled an `original story'.6 Six months later (20 March 1948) a new treatment appeared, credited to Alfred Hitch- cock and Alma Reville.7 The first sentence is blunt and brilliant: `A Priest has just murdered a man'. There are `signs indicat[ing] that the Priest was caught as he committed a robbery'. He `grabs bun- dles of notes and stuffs them into a pocket inside his cassock', then uses the corner of his cassock to wipe his fingerprints off the murder weapon. From the first sentence, one can anticipate the controversy the project might provoke. As soon as word got out, there was a negative response from the public. The first complaint, lodged four years before the film was shot, came from a man named John Schuyler in November, 1948. Schuyler wrote directly to Hitchcock, with some heat, that he had heard `that a certain Radio Gossip Columnist . made the state- ment that your firm is contemplating the production of a Moving Picture, in which one of the characters is a Roman Catholic Priest who becomes a murderer . It is inconceivable that a responsible organization such as yours would so far exceed the bounds of taste and decency as to produce such a Picture'.8 Hitchcock himself responded with a telegram: Dear Mr. Schuyler Quote I Confess Unquote is a story about a priest who hears the confession of a murderer. The murderer a gardener at the rectory used priests clothing to commit his crime. The priest is accused of the murder but because of his knowledge acquired in the con- fessional by this murderer he cannot absolve himself and as now contemplated the story will show that he dies for his faith. At present the story is being worked upon and the climax may be changed if the real murderer confesses and saves the priest but this premise may weaken our story and that is how we stand at the moment. I am terribly sorry that you have been misled by what you erroneously heard over the radio because the whole purpose of this film is to show the sanctity of the confessional.9 That very day, without mentioning the fuss, a copy of the Hitchcock treatment was submitted to the PCA by Fred Ahern, Hitchcock's production man- ager.10 Enclosed you will find a treatment of `I Con- fess'. This is a story which Mr. Alfred Hitchcock contemplates shooting shortly after the first of the year. We are sending the material to you in this form because during the next several weeks we are planning to engage a writer to start work on the screenplay. At first the Breen office seemed to take a hands-off view. A `Memo for the Files' dated 16 December 1948 states that `from the standpoint of the Code, strictly, the only thing wrong with the pre- sent version was the wiping off of the fingerprints, on the first page'. (The Production Code forbad showing people how crimes are committed or the means criminals might use to avoid detection.) There was Fig. 1. Advertising for I Confess kept audiences in the dark regarding both the priesthood and the rituals of the Roman Catholic Church. [All illustrations from author's collection.] FILM HISTORY: Volume 19, Number 1, 2007 ? p. 59 Constructing a priest, silencing a saint: The PCA and I Confess (1953) 59 À one caveat. `The picture's acceptability under the Code would, of course, depend on it containing nothing that would be offensive to the Catholic Church.' To that end, it states, `Today Mr. Breen got in touch with Father Devlin, who stated that there were several things technically wrong with the story, which he would work out with Mr. Ahern'. `Father Devlin' was Monsignor Devlin, `the official repre- sentative of the Archbishop [of Los Angeles] who deals with motion picture matters'. While Schuyler's complaint was handled rela- tively easily in 1948, four years later objections were still being raised. And those who raised them had clout. On 6 April 1952 Martin Quigley of Quigley Publishing (Motion Picture Herald, Motion Picture Daily, etc.) wrote to Hitchcock's producer, Sidney Bernstein. As with the Schuyler telegram, Quigley's letter expressed his feelings in terms both heated and articulate. I pass over the undeveloped character of the script I have read; also its author's evident unfamiliarity with many matters of usages, tra- dition, regulations etc. I also pass over the author's lack of feeling and understanding of the character of the priest who is the central figure in the story. In the version Quigley read, Logan commits a series of blunders, but what Quigley objected to most was the priest's actions after the confession: he goes straight to the police. Because he cannot tell them what he knows, he uses a ruse to persuade his friend, a police detective, to drop him off at the murdered man's place so that they can `discover' the body. Such behavior, Quigley argues, would be a serious abuse of confidentiality and `inexcusably delinquent'. There is no committment [sic] among men which is more solemn, thorough and uncom- promising than that assumed by the Catholic priest with respect to what he is told in the Confessional.11 Despite finding the story `keen and exciting', Quigley still had reservations. As a Catholic layman I seriously question the propriety of the treatment and believe that a resultant picture would be gravely offensive to Catholic audiences and would encounter dis- approval and opposition from Catholic Church authorities. He assumes the Legion of Decency would be `confronted with the decision of whether to classify the picture as "Objectionable in Part" or "Con- demned". I would expect nothing other than either one of these classifications.'12 Martin Quigley was not just anyone. A major force in the founding of the Legion of Decency, he also felt credit was owed him for devising an early version of the Production Code in November 1929.13 He also had a tendency to subject those who differed with him to `blistering attack for being too liberal and too complimentary to Hollywood'.14 Quigley knew everyone in the Breen office personally, starting with Joe Breen,15 and had no trouble asserting that, the Catholic members of that board [the PCA] would, I am sure, be able to point out quickly, if requested, the reasons why the story would meet with Catholic disapproval. I am sure that Jack Vizzard, for one, could indicate the objec- tionable character of the story line. Told that the treatment had already been ap- proved, Quigley is dubious. I am at a loss to understand the seeming approval of the Canadian Church authorities. There is no manner by which `Vatican' ap- proval of a script can be obtained. Father Morlion, perhaps, had it read by some friend somehow identified with the Vatican. Father Declan Flynn whom I also know may simply be inexperienced in understanding scripts.16 He does `know Msgr. Devlin very well and it would be a matter of considerable surprise to me to know that Msgr. Devlin did not entertain serious objections to this story in its present form'.17 The PCA's point-man on this project, Jack Vizzard left numerous memoranda on the fires he had been putting out. And as the script started get- ting around, he recorded, Quigley was not the only one objecting. Very fortuitously I met Father Bartley from Brooklyn who was introduced to me by Father Little of the Legion [of Decency], and to my surprise I learned that he also had been given the script of I CONFESS to read. He was highly indignant about the treatment and it took some little bit of fast talking to make him realize that it would be possible to correct the problems and to get what might turn out to be a most favorable story from the present script.18 FILM HISTORY: Volume 19, Number 1, 2007 ? p. 60 60 Amy Lawrence À The correspondence on I Confess for the five years preceding its production illustrates cultural and industrial concerns regarding the representation of religion. It also shows how the PCA functioned in response to the competing interests of producers and those to whom specific subject matter might prove especially sensitive. At several points the PCA actively intervened, arranging meetings between producers and potential critics in order to circumvent future criticism.19 Further communication between Vizzard and Quigley makes it clear that there was more involved than possible future protests. On 14 April, Vizzard received a quietly ominous note from Quigley's assistant, making clear just what was at stake.20 Without the approval of the Church and the Breen office ? and Martin Quigley ? the bank would not provide financing for the film. Vizzard made a memo for the files. Mr. Pagnamenta of the Banker's Trust of New York, has been in touch with Monsignor Devlin by telephone regarding the advisability of re- leasing the loan which Bernstein and Hitch- cock are requesting . . He has instructed his associates not to extend the bank loan until Bernstein and Hitchcock have secured a letter of approval from this office.21 Vizzard notified Quigley. Rest assured that there will be no letter going forth from this office giving them the approval which will start the loan in operation, until they have satisfactorily solved the two major prob- lems which the present script presents. We have notified them to this effect and they seem quite willing to wait.22 Nevertheless, the PCA still supported the film being made, though Vizzard hides firmly behind a man of the church when he tells Quigley. Actually, it is Monsignor Devlin's opinion and my own that Bernstein is not too far away from an acceptable story.23 Vizzard's confidence was the result of what he called a `rather fruitful' conference between himself, Father Devlin, Bernstein, and Hitchcock. Given Quigley's influence, public and private, it is little won- der that Bernstein himself sent Quigley a detailed account of proposed changes. He begins by thank- ing Quigley for the tongue-lashing. First of all, thank you for the trouble you have taken in not only reading our story, but giving it such careful consideration. Most of all, he wants Quigley to know that the producers are already on top of things. Your letter of the 6th inst. awaited me today when I returned from a meeting with Monsignor Devlin, Jack Vizzard and Hitch. Suggestions made at this morning's meeting have now dealt with all problems relating to the sacredness of the confessional upon which the whole of our story is founded. We still have the problem of the past to tackle, but during the writing of the screenplay this will be resolved. We will be regularly meeting Monsi- gnor Devlin and Mr. Vizzard during the process of writing to ensure that nothing in the picture will offend the Catholic Church or Catholics. I am sure you appreciate from having read even the `outline' that the film we hope to make is intended to be a tribute to Catholicism.24 The cooperation (though perhaps not entirely voluntary) demonstrated by the film's producers in the `rather fruitful' meetings arranged by the Breen Office shows that they were more than willing to accept the PCA's `help'. The most striking documen- tary evidence of that willingness is a revised copy of the treatment, altered by Hitchcock himself with a blue fountain-pen. The first sentence has been crossed out. The murderer-thief is now `a man'. His cassock has become a `long coat'. Only after these neutralizing terms have been established are we told that `for the first time we see he wears the garb of a priest'. From the beginning, Hitchcock planned for the film to be a meditation on the relationship between appearance and identity. The film opens on a dark night in a European-looking town. Signs clutter the empty streets as a series of shots show arrows pointing in opposite directions. Hitchcock strolls through, oblivious to the confused space. An arrow directs the camera toward an open window. The camera moves through the window into a room where a dead body lies, a beaded curtain swaying in the doorway indicating that someone has just left. The camera continues to pan right until we are out- side again where we see a man in a cassock walking away hurriedly. Although his face remains in shadow as he walks down the rain-soaked cobble-stone FILM HISTORY: Volume 19, Number 1, 2007 ? p. 61 Constructing a priest, silencing a saint: The PCA and I Confess (1953) 61 À streets, we see that he is a priest. Harshly backlit, he seems to be struggling with the buttons around his neck. When he turns into an alley (shot in a dramati- cally tilted angle), he quickly removes his cassock to reveal a suit underneath. The first time we see Father Logan (Montgomery Clift), he is also in the process of re- moving his cassock when he glimpses a man enter- ing the church. Peering through the darkness of the church, Logan's first line is `Who's there?' The enigma of Logan's true identity will be stated in terms of his relationship to the cassock. Is the role of a priest an expression of his true self or is it cover? Hitchcock repeatedly told the press that I Con- fess had to be shot on location in Quebec City because it was the only city in North America where priests wore cassocks down to their ankles.25 What he did not mention was that the longer the cassock, the better to disguise what might be beneath. An- other characteristic Hitchcock prized about Quebec was its European quality, as seen in the opening montage, though that had also been raised as a problem. In 1947, Lee Wright of Simon and Schuster found `the whole atmosphere' of the story to be more European than American. `The way the people think and act strikes me as being not American. [The whole town] seems to be, for example, populated entirely by Catholics. That just doesn't happen here.'26 The confession scene that follows became the first real point of contention between Hitchcock and the Catholic Church. As the pretext for the entire plot, the confession is central. As an issue of religious practice, the representation of the sacrament of con- fession was subject to intense negotiations. At first, the church's representatives were concerned about form. A memo marked `Rewrite for Devlin (Victor approved)' notes in telegraphic style the changes to be submitted to Monsignor Devlin that had been approved by Victor A. Peers, General Manager of Transatlantic Pictures, Hitchcock's production com- pany. First: the killer Otto's behavior before the con- fession had to be changed. It would not do for Otto to be too emotional `pre-Confession'. If he were, it would `arouse Father Michael's suspicions, in which case he would have refused to hear confession at this time because of possible prejudice'.27 Otto's behavior during confession is important too. If Otto showed signs of being unstable, the confession would have to be stopped. `To conform with proper church proceedure [sic]', Otto's `ramblings' in the script would have to be omitted because they `would also have caused Michael to send him away and not let him complete confession at this time'. Logan's ability to speak in the confessional is also dramatically restricted. At first, he recites the standard questions. `When was your last confes- sion?' When Otto does not answer, Logan presses the issue: `Can you say approximately?' The very mundanity of this routine not only satisfies the de- mands of the church, it also creates suspense. We know that Otto (O.E. Hasse) is guilty of something. The delay in his saying it only increases our eager- ness to see how Logan will react. The confession finally happens when Otto, in an extreme close-up, blurts out, `I killed Mr. Villette'. Cut to Logan, alone, boxed in, with the shadow of a cross on his forehead. There is a long pause. He finally replies, `Go on'. We dissolve to the next scene where Otto completes his confession to his wife, Alma. At this point in the film, the silence required by the Church coincides perfectly with Hitchcock's pref- erence for using cinematic expression in place of dialogue. Dramatic lighting that marks Logan as bearer of the cross, the close-up of Otto's mouth when he confesses, and the cut to Logan's reaction (held longer than the preceding shots) give the im- pression that Logan has been stunned into silence. Hitchcock's construction of the scene not only ac- knowledges the protocol of the Catholic sacrament (forbidding a response on Logan's part), but rede- fines Logan's silence as an expression of his emo- tional/psychological state. In fact, the first part of the film successfully appropriates the requirements of Fig. 2. Hitchcock strolls across the Quebec skyline in his obligatory cameo. FILM HISTORY: Volume 19, Number 1, 2007 ? p. 62 62 Amy Lawrence À canon law so they can serve the purposes of the suspense film. As Logan's silence keeps him within the bounds approved by the PCA, it also provides impe- tus for the plot. Logan's silence makes him suspi- cious to other characters and leaves them as frustrated and dissatisfied in their encounters with him as spectators and critics have been with the film. Time and again, Logan's maintenance of profes- sional boundaries prevents emotional contact with others and drives the characters around him to ex- tremes. When Otto goes to him the day after the confession and says `I must speak to you', Logan responds `There is nothing I can add to what I've already said'. Technically, Logan is adhering to a rule regarding confession that is less well-known than the law of silence. Not only are priests forbidden to tell others what they have heard in confession, they are not supposed to discuss the confession with the penitent afterwards or show any signs of knowledge regarding what was said. But Otto feels silenced and shut out. Beginning to doubt Logan's ability to remain silent, Otto decides to frame him for murder. During supposedly `friendly' questioning by the police, De- tective Larue (Karl Malden) tells Logan, `I need your help'. Logan replies weakly, `I'm unable to help'. Logan's suspicious refusal to identify who he was with the night of the murder makes him Larue's chief suspect…

The Wife of a Former Protestant Pastor Speaks Out

Patricia Dixon

Patricia Dixon is a freelance writer and the mother of four. Her husband was a Protestant pastor before the family entered the Catholic Church.

Why A Married Priesthood Won't Remedy the Priest Shortage

Would the Church be better served if priests were married? Those who propose lifting the celibacy requirement claim that this change would bring about a great increase in vocations, would provide parishes with priests who better understand the problems of family life, would make the priests themselves happier, and would generally improve the Church all around. It sounds lovely. But the advocates of a married clergy need to give a little more thought to the real consequences of their blithe slogans. Perhaps they will listen to a wife who has been there.

Let us consider a typical, moderately large parish in an affluent American community, in which three priests live in a rectory that also houses the parish office. What changes would have to be made if the priests of this parish were married?

First, there would have to be many more priests at the parish. A celibate man can give all his time to the parish; a married man must give priority to his family. So these three priests must become five or six, leaving the "priest shortage" right where it was, even if the removal of the celibacy rule doubles the number of priests in America.

But that's only the beginning. The stipend of a priest is nowhere near enough to support a family; it's not even half enough. The salary of a married priest would have to be about three times the current stipend in order to keep a priest's family

above the federal poverty line. (Would young men flock to the priesthood so they can support their families in near-poverty?) If the parish does not want the priest and his family to be the poorest family in the neighborhood, probably unable to afford even to send their children to the parish school, the salary would have to be higher still. Now figure in health insurance premiums for a wife and several children per priest.

And, of course, those six families can't all live in that rectory, and the parish offices can't be in the home of just one of them. So we now need six houses, and extra space somewhere else, to replace the one rectory. If the priests are expected to furnish their own housing, their salary will have to be increased even more.

Thus, supporting married priests will cost that three-priest parish more than six times what it now spends to support its priests. Does any parish consider itself that affluent? Is the average parishioner willing to multiply his offering by six? In all likelihood, the priests will have to work outside the priesthood to bring in income. Of course, their time for the parish and parishioners will decrease. So the parishioners, even if they could somehow support their six priests, would still find themselves short of priestly attention.

The financial burden is one thing, but there is also a very heavy emotional burden to be borne by priests - and their families. One hears the argument that "Protestant ministers can marry, and it works well for them," but the fact is that it doesn't work well. How many of the advocates of a married priesthood are truly aware of the struggles of a Protestant clergyman's family?

Every married pastor faces, throughout his career, the tension between the needs of the church and the needs of his family. Some find ways to resolve it to their satisfaction; most do not. Both church and family require more than half of a man's time and energy. Both can be demanding; and churches, which generally have no interest in a pastor's emotional health, are particularly demanding. The effects of this tension show up in families in various ways. Some wives - and many children - of pastors blame the church for depriving them of husband or father and leave the church, and even Christianity, altogether. One pastor said he expected his tombstone to read "Daddy's Gone to Another Meeting. " Another came home from a trip to find that his young son didn't even know he had been away - he was home so rarely anyway. Many a pastor's wife considers herself the next thing to a single parent.

On top of this, a pastor's wife and children are themselves without pastoral care. No man, however talented or dedicated, can be pastor and husband or father to the same people. The objectivity required of the pastoral role is missing. But the minister's family cannot seek spiritual direction and sustenance elsewhere; loyalty and the need to avoid the appearance of a split in the family require that they remain at his church. When the father's career and the family's spiritual life are one and the same, the spiritual life suffers badly.

A priest or minister is seldom off duty. Any family activity is likely to be interrupted, often for the most trivial of reasons. A vacation at home is impossible for a clergyman's family; if he's around, he's assumed to be available to his flock. The bum-out rate among Protestant pastors is very high. If relaxing the celibacy rule increases the number of priests, it will have to increase it enough to make up for the large number who will leave the priesthood when they, like so many of their Protestant colleagues, find the toll it takes on the families impossible to accept.

Or if a priest's wife leaves him, and the priest wants to continue functioning as a priest, what is the bishop supposed to do? Pretend everything is fine? What sort of message would that send? Would many parishioners be scandalized? Would others feel they now have permission to dump their spouses? And how well would any of them be pastored by the priest going through this private anguish? Or should the bishop quietly and quickly ship the priest (and his children?) off to a remote outpost in the diocese, hoping no one will be the wiser? This tactic has not won the hearts of Catholics where the problem has been pedophilia or some other violation of the vow of celibacy.

Or should the priest be laicized? Many would see this as the only solution that fully honors the sacrament of Holy Matrimony. Could the institution of marriage, already stretched to the breaking point and denigrated to the point of virtual irrelevance, survive the spectacle of separating and divorcing priests who are allowed to continue functioning as priests? But others would feel that automatic laicization would punish the priest for transgressions that were, in most cases, not entirely his own or for a tragedy that was not entirely his fault. And is any of us ready to hear this announcement from the pulpit: The special third collection today will be for our Alimony Fund?

It is a fact that most Christians see their clergy as men set apart, not quite "real people," regardless of the steps the minister or priest takes to counteract that view. This impression, strong in Protestant churches, is even stronger among Catholics, because Catholic priests are set apart by their ordination in a way Protestant ministers are not. This sense of separateness extends to the pastor's family. A minister's wife who is pregnant may find that church members are uncomfortable with her as a living symbol of the pastor's active sexuality; a minister's children often find the expectation that they will be models of good behavior, piety, and academic achievement a crushing burden. Close friendships within the church can prove impossible to establish, depriving the pastor's family of the bonds with other Christians so important to spiritual growth. The difference between the Protestant and Catholic understandings of ordination means that a priest's family would suffer this isolation to an even greater degree than a Protestant minister's family does.

In discussing the need for more vocations, it is easy to offer facile solutions, to say that many more young men would become priests if priests could be married. There is little evidence to support this contention; but even if it were true, the cure would be worse than the disease

The unmarried man cares for the Lord's business; his aim is to please the Lord. But the married man cares for worldly things; his aim is to please his wife; and he has a divided mind. 1 Corinthians 7-32-33, NEB

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