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Three years ago, my wife gave me the boxed DVD set of the British television series Brideshead Revisited. No doubt most readers of Inside Catholic will have long since read Evelyn Waugh's masterpiece and seen the filmed version. The great Catholic fiction writers of the 20th century were not particularly happy to be thought of as "Catholic novelists" -- that tag might seem to call into question the seriousness of their art: Was it really a sort of crypto-proselytizing? Hence Graham Greene (who left us all wondering just where he might wish to locate himself with regard to Catholic notions), Waugh, François Mauriac, Flannery O'Connor, and Walker Percy, to name only a few, tended to think of themselves as novelists "with Christian concerns," not primarily as "Catholic novelists."
In any event, a reader would have to be especially untutored in the art of reading if he were to miss the central point of Waugh's tale of the Flyte family in Brideshead. It is a story about sin and grace. Contemporary vocabulary can only speak of that family as dysfunctional. If this is the case, then Adam and Eve's family was dysfunctional -- as were Noah's, Abraham's, Isaac's, Jacob's, Eli's, and David's.
One of the DVDs in the box contains filmed comments by a whole galaxy of contemporary critics, commentators, journalists, and pundits of all stripes. And yet, none of them appeared to be at all familiar with the moral vision that Waugh assumed in his story, and which would be assumed by every traditional Jew and Christian, and probably by most ancient Greeks. Or, if these critics were thus familiar, they thought of the vision as at best quaint, and certainly outdated. They all descanted happily about the apparently erotic nature of Charles Ryder's fascination with Sebastian. It's a fashionable category now, and one displays one's bright contemporary colors by speaking of the matter with the same insouciance as one speaks of "sexually active" people and so forth. Not only is the matter morally neutral: It is boorish in the extreme to permit the smallest tincture of valuation to seep into one's discourse.
But I mention that detail only by way of illustrating a more general innocence of tradition exhibited by all the commentators. The best they could do with the Flytes' Catholicism was either to hold it up to bemused scrutiny or, at least by implication, to decry it. It was the Flytes' Catholicism that obstructed things and made them all miserable. Only Diana Quick, who had played Julia, the somewhat errant oldest daughter, spoke of her own curiosity about what had made Julia renounce Charles (Julia had been married and divorced, for a start, and so had Charles). She wanted to get to the bottom of things. So, she tells us, she got hold of several little Catholic leaflets ("written for seven-year-olds") and read up on things. She concluded that it all had to do with the Catholic notion of sin. There's the problem. Not just Catholic thick-headedness, nor some prim resolve to forbid pleasure to us all. Sin. So -- that's what's at the bottom of Catholic reluctance to consult mere passion in making one's fundamental choices?
Waugh, of course, is unapologetic about what he requires of his characters. Lord Marchmain must repent on his deathbed. Julia must renounce Charles. Sebastian must pay the price for his dipsomania in the redeeming embrace of a community of religious. Lady Marchmain, something of a dragon, carries the burden of her family's transgressions with her to Mass, and to her grave. And Charles, the agnostic narrator, in perhaps the most elegantly handled conversion in all of fiction, is received into the Church (offstage), and, in the very last scene, visits the chapel in the great house, and says "a prayer, an ancient, newly learned form of words . . . ."
Tom Howard is retired from 40 years of teaching English in private schools, college, and seminary in England and America. This column originally appeared in the April 2007 issue of Crisis Magazine.
Readers have left 5 comments. Quote(1) UntitledFebruary 06th, 2010 | 9:58am My wife and I have enjoyed reading the book together, and have also enjoyed watching the film version spoken of in the article. My thought after experiencing the integrity of the film as it relates to the novel was that those who took part in the film (actors, producers, directors) could not help but be affected by the themes of the novel, most notably good coming from evil, or overwhelming beauty arising from grotesqueness. So it was with eagerness that we also viewed the extras, with interviews with many of the aforementioned individuals participating in the film, to gain some insight into their thoughts in creating the film, as the film only increased my opinion of the novel as having great depth.
It has been some time since I watched these extras, but I am still scratching my head as to how the interviewees could appear to be so clueless and shallow when in conversation about subjects they appear to fully apprehend in the film, based on their skilled and sensitive presentation of these subjects in the film. I am not looking down my nose at the film participants, I simply don't understand how they have accomplished such beauty and depth in the film, while at the same time apparently maintaining a shallowness in their minds regarding the novel when away from the screen. Quote(2) Art and IronyFebruary 06th, 2010 | 3:45pm Throughout history, people have presented convincingly messages they could not fully understand. The BBC's production of Brideshead Revisited isn't unique. Peter L Jackson also presents a deeper illustration of reality than he himself is likely to understand. In ancient times, the prophets uttered words whose full portent they could not have understood.
This presenting of we-understand-not-what creates a sort of irony. Of course, modern readers looking into Brideshead Revisited will often find that which is Catholic both odd and quaint. But so did Charles Ryder, didn't he? He might very well be taken to be a stand-in for the reader, partly because of his detachment from (and strangeness to) the interior life of the Flytes even while being enmeshed with it. Additionally, because of his unreligious nominal Protestantism, he makes an excellent stand-in for the modern secular reader.
One can reasonably wonder whether Waugh is prophesying the conversion of the secular, the reversion of the West, by the force of a twitch on a thread. Quote(3) Waugh and the FaithFebruary 06th, 2010 | 7:50pm Perhaps I am mistaken but didn't Waugh in his latter years think that the Faith's future was in the hands of non Europeans? As I recall he hadn't much hope in the post christian culture that was rapidly assuming ascendancy in the years before he died in 1963. If his family's faithfulness to the Faith is anything to judge by, he seems to have hit the nail on the head, most of them having apostasied after his death. Quote(4) Hope for Planted SeedsFebruary 08th, 2010 | 1:11pm As someone with a great appreciation for what the arts can contribute to communicating truths of the human experience, I've often wondered what seeds may have been planted in the minds and hearts of filmmakers and actors involved in productions that compellingly portray Christian themes.
Like Mr. Howard and John, I too was disappointed in the commentary on the Brideshead Revisited DVD set. In terms of a positive comment about the story's deeper meaning, I don't recall much beyond a reference by producer Derek Granger to the story's "strong moral center" as a reason for its enduring appeal. And given Diana Quick's wonderful portrayal of Julia Flyte and the insight that she eventually comes to have about her relationship with God, it is disheartening to think that Quick believed that she "got" Catholicism by reading tracts for seven-year olds. I suppose it's possible that more insightful comments were edited out, but maybe not. Also, given her character's importance and the fact that she is still living, I wonder why Claire Bloom (Lady Marchmain) was not included in the commentary or else declined to participate, assuming she was able.
However, I agree with Ryan's observation that filmmakers and actors often effectively convey themes and messages that they don't fully understand, and perhaps that even has something to do with their fascination with a given story. Even those of us who are professing Christians (Catholic or otherwise) cannot fully grasp the mysteries of the truths we claim to believe, but something inside us convinces us that they are true. To use the term that I believe C.S. Lewis used when referring to The Chronicles of Narnia, the journeys taken by characters in stories provide an effective opportunity to "smuggle" in theology.
Despite one of the DVD commentators asserting in unequivocal terms that Brideshead Revisited is at its heart about the love between Charles and Sebastian, Evelyn Waugh stated that his story is ultimately about "the operation of divine grace on a group of diverse but closely connected characters." Two other films that leave me with a very similar feeling after watching them are Out of Africa and Shadowlands, respectively portraying Isak Dinesen and C.S. Lewis. Like Brideshead, they movingly portray how the experience of love and loss in human relationships invites us to consider a more transcendent reality beyond this world. And this theme is also evocatively enhanced by the great musical scores of these films.
I think it is appropriate for me to end my comment with this quote coming from Anthony Andrews, who played Sebastian Flyte. I found it on the Internet Movie Database, and it's too bad it didn't make it onto the DVD:
"My greatest fear is losing touch with God. I am in constant dialogue with Him. My grandfather was a priest and I served at the altar as a little boy. I have a long history of being on the cusp of Catholicism. I pray a lot, especially when those fogs of life descend. It helps me to keep a positive attitude in a negative world." - 15 April 2003, Times Online Quote(5) Sorry!February 12th, 2010 | 4:00am Maybe because I came from another culture that, even as a Catholic, I just can't identify with the Flyte family. I've read the book several times (first as a 15-year old who hardly spoke English and the last time, as a 66-year-old who speaks and reads nothing but English.)
I understand that the story is about sin and grace, and I appreciate that. The language is elegant and I admit I have developed a fondness for Waugh, having rooted through my English (Catholic) husband's collections of the defunct Punch and Spectator magazines. I've also read Waugh's "A Handful of Dust," and "The Loved One." They, too, are great reads, but...
I have found something greater - something I wouldn't hesitate to call the greatest Catholic novel todate. And it is this: Jose Maria Gironella's trilogy: "The Cypresses Believe in God," "One Million Dead," and "Peace After the War."
Gironella and his Alvear family will not disappoint, even in translation. |
