Good priest walks the ruins of the sex abuse crisis

By Tim Kroenert
Eureka Street
July 2, 2014

http://www.eurekastreet.com.au/article.aspx?aeid=41612#.U7PbzvldWSo

Calvary begins with a threat. Ensconced in the anonymity of the confessional, a man who has suffered injustice at the hands of the Church informs the priest, Fr James Lavelle (Gleeson), that he plans to kill him. Not because Lavelle has committed any wrong — quite the opposite. He has been singled out because he is 'a good priest', to pay the price for the sins of his brethren.

During the week leading up to the deadline set by his would-be killer, Lavelle goes about his pastoral duties within his windswept seaside parish. The ominously titled Calvary traces these earnest ramblings, which are as much a part of a personal pilgrimage — a 'setting in order of his house', as suggested by the killer — as a continuation of clerical duty.

He counsels a young man who is angered that he is denied the affections of women. He mediates a domestic violence situation involving affable butcher Jack (O'Dowd), his unfaithful wife Veronica (O'Rourke), and her lover, Simon (De Bankolé), an ill-tempered mechanic from the Ivory Coast. He resists the request of an elderly writer (Walsh) to acquire a gun, for the purposes of self-euthanasia.

He also endures the condescension of wealthy blue-blood Michael (Moran), and the more hostile slights heaped upon him in the local tavern by, among others, snidely atheistic doctor Frank (Gillen). Amidst these other trials he attempts to reconnect with his estranged daughter Fiona (Reilly), who feels that his decision to join the priesthood after the death of her mother was a kind of abandonment.

Lavelle is a good priest, and generally a decent, if flawed, man. He goes about this work patiently, for the most part. At one point he is accused of being judgmental; he retorts that yes, he is, but he tries not to be. Against the weight of such general disdain, and in the knowledge that any of these men that he encounters could be the one who plans to kill him, to strive to be good nonetheless is noble in itself.

It is hard to miss the biblical connotations both of the film's title, Calvary — named for the site of Christ's crucifixion — and of the threat levelled against Lavelle. This 'good priest' is a Christ figure, innocent, but marked for death as a scapegoat for the guilty. Unsurprisingly he has forgiveness on his mind. But often forgiveness is not something to be given or received lightly.

The sexual abuse crisis that brought disgrace upon the Irish Church hangs over all of these proceedings. The killer's reason for wanting to inflict violence is that he was, as a child, a victim of abuse that went unpunished. Lavelle is liked but not respected by his parishioners, despite the centrality of the Church to the life of their community. Amid the ruins left by the crisis he carries little moral authority.

Calvary is a cerebral film about this emotional but also deeply moral issue. It suffers for it. The characters are virtual 'types' or, at best, sketches, who exist to provide a perspective on a raft of issues (mortality, sexuality, wealth) that are canvassed within the context of the post-abuse crisis. It is a tragic reflection on the diminished authority of the Church in conversations about these issues.

But structurally it is a mess, and its ability to engage the head but not the heart is alienating. It is not helped in this regard by an overbearing score that seems to have been tasked with doing all of the emotional heavy lifting that the script neglects. If it seeks to give voice to victims, affirm their feelings of injustice or offer them catharsis, its cold detachment from a sense of basic humanity undermines this goal.

It is rescued in large part by a tour-de-force performance by Gleeson as Lavelle, who is warm and complex and refreshingly lacking in moral certitude. What's more he is a man who has wept for the death of a pet but not, by his own admission, for the victims of abuse. While he is a good man, a good priest, and not himself an abuser, in his silence and disinterest he is still a part of the problem. A truth he may learn too late.