Lucas
Versantvoort / 4 September 2014
Director
Stephen Frears’ latest film deals with some very touchy subject matter, which
you wouldn’t know when looking at the film’s bright yellow poster. Glancing at
the poster, one wouldn’t immediately guess Philomena
deals with an old mother’s decade long search for her son who was forcefully
adopted while she was a teen, living in an abbey in Ireland. And yet, it’s the
poster that conveys to the audience what this film is really about. But I’ll
get to that in a moment.
The film is structured in a way that
we begin in the present, when Philomena is old, meets down-on-his-luck
journalist Martin Sixsmith, who then start their search for her son. We also
see some flashbacks to when Philomena’s child was taken from her, but the film
doesn’t deal in Memento-esque time
structures nor does it need to. It almost feels like a road trip, following one
clue after the other, giving us more context and information each time and all
the while Philomena and Martin’s relationship develops.
Apparently, the entire search for Philomena’s
son lasted years and years, but a film adaptation obviously doesn’t have the
time for that, so several facts and events have to be compressed (a necessary
tactic in film). This does occasionally make the search feel too short and easy
as the next clue is never far away. Claims about a film adaptation applying
changes to the source material are as old as the film industry itself and one
can usually say these accusations are irrelevant if the film stays true to the
spirit of the original work. Now, I haven’t read the book so I can’t comment on
that, but because the film in the end focuses on the developing relationship
between Philomena and Martin and thus symbolically between ‘all’ believers and
atheists, I believe the film rises above such criticisms…which brings us to the
film’s touchy subject matter.
Now, on the surface, Philomena deals with a mother’s search for her long-lost son.
However, because the child was forcefully adopted while the mother was staying
at an abbey in Ireland, the film immediately signifies way more than simply a
search for the son. Depending on the viewer’s dispositions on religion and so
forth, red flags might be popping up all over the place. When a film like Philomena starts to inherently deal with
issues of atheism and religion, it will probably be in its best interest to
present both sides of the debates in an honest and fair way, so as to not scare
away half its audience. This is what Francis Ford Coppola did when he wrote the
script for Patton. It showed general
Patton as a religious man, a passionate and insightful general, but did not shy
away from the flaws in his character, such as when he slapped a crying soldier.
Not only did this ensure a more nuanced portrayal of Patton, it also ensured
that both the, shall we say, Republican crowd and the anti-war crowd would have
scenes to emotionally latch onto. In Philomena’s
case, this automatically becomes much trickier since the Catholics are already
on the ‘losing’ side, so to speak. If the film has anything resembling a
villain, it’s the Sister who had Philomena’s child adopted. It’s therefore very
easy to accuse the film of anti-Catholicism as has been done by, for example,
the New York Post, who slammed it as being “another hateful and boring attack
on Catholics.” However, I feel the film still emphasizes the good side through
Philomena’s (Catholic) nature, her ability to see the good in everything, to
forgive the nurse for taking her son away from her and lead a generally
positive and happy life despite everything that she’s experienced.
The real strength of the film thus lies in its
characters as played by the ever-so-magnificent Judi Dench and (the film’s
co-writer and co-producer) Steve Coogan and how their relationship develops as
seen on the previously mentioned poster. This relationship is, in the end, the
film’s real focus and answer to the questions of religion and atheism it inherently
raises. A film attempting to deal with matters of religion is automatically
getting in over its head. A film cannot possibly effectively deal and encompass
the various facets of religion and atheism and the endless debates surrounding
them. This is why the relationship between Philomena and Martin is so crucial
to the film’s success, because it represents the possibility of a ‘believer’
and an atheist becoming friends without letting their personal beliefs and ways
of life getting in the way. Thankfully, the film isn’t too sugary here. Martin
doesn’t become a devout Catholic by the film’s end nor is there a sappy scene
where he explicitly admits that ‘well gosh, there must be something good about
Catholicism after all.’ Philomena’s forgiving of the nurse who took her son is
contrasted by Martin admitting he could not were he in Philomena’s shoes. What
I mean to say is that in the end their beliefs do not hinder their relationship
nor should they. This reflects (the real) Philomena Lee’s claims that Philomena
is ultimately a ‘good’ film (or rather a film about ‘good’), despite claims
that the film is anti-Republican and anti-Catholic.[1].
Responses such as those from the New York Post mirror the risk a film like Philomena carries, though the film makes
the wise decision to rise above such endless debates on religion and atheism,
focusing instead on Philomena herself and her bond with Martin thus presenting
a coming together of sorts between people of a religious nature and atheists.
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