Friday, 26 April 2019

Silence: The Resilience of Faith




Often tests of human resilience are tests we put on ourselves. We ask ourselves: ‘Do I have the energy to undertake this?’ ‘Do I have the ability to accomplish this?’ ‘Can I endure the resistance I face?’ and even sometimes ‘Is this act the right thing?’. However here is nothing more disheartening to our resilience than futility. The sense that you are doing everything right and still you are failing. That is the test that Father Sebastião Rodrigues faces in Martin Scorsese’s 2016 film Silence and that it proves to be his breaking point speaks volumes about the relationship between Catholicism and suffering.

Based on the novel by Shusaku Endo, Silence follows two 17th-Centruy Jesuit priests Rodrigues (Andrew Garfield) and Francisco Garupe (Adam Driver). The two receive word that their mentor, Father Cristóvão Ferreira (Liam Neeson), the man who first took their confession, has committed apostasy. He has performed Fumi-E, a practice by which suspected Christians are made to trample on the image of Christ. Reverend James Martin, who consulted on the film, wrote about the significance of the act in the Jesuit magazine America.

A Jesuit’s entire life is centered on Jesus, whom he knows through the Gospels, through the sacraments, through his ministry and through his prayer, especially through his experience of the Spiritual Exercises, a series of extended meditations on the life of Christ…Expecting the Jesuits simply to throw that relationship aside—to apostatize—is wholly unrealistic.”

Indeed, the notion seems unrealistic to Rodrigues and Garupe, who are convinced that this news is merely a Japanese slander. To resolve this, they volunteer for a mission to Japan, to seek out the ‘Hidden Christians’ driven underground. They are to hide amongst them and provide spiritual guidance in secret and to seek the truth of Father Ferreira. It is a journey which tests the resilience of both Rodrigues’s faith and sheer will. He travels to a strange and foreign country, with no knowledge of its culture or language, a country where he will be put to death if he is discovered. He sees men tortured for the faith that he shares. He sees people he believed faithful spit and stomp on the image of Christ. He sees those that refuse given long and agonising deaths; crucified at sea, drowned or beheaded.

Like many who witness such horrors Rodrigues does begin to question his faith. At the beginning of the film we see his relationship with Christ transcend the missional into personal. When he prays, he sees the image of Christ before him; depicted by Scorsese using The Veil of Saint Veronica by 16th Century artist El Greco. Yet in this foreign country which has rejected Christ, Rodrigues finds God to be silent. God has seemingly turned his back on those who suffer most for him. In spite the horrors he witnesses and the apparent absence of God in the face of them, Rodrigues’s faith remains resilient. When captured he vows to not abandon Christ, remaining convinced that the doctrine of Christianity is immutable:

“…we believe we brought you the truth, and the truth is universal…If a doctrine weren’t as true in Japan as it is in Portugal, we couldn’t call it the truth.”

Rodrigues’s conviction remains resilient not only in Christ but in the value of Christianity. It is not only his faith but the true faith. As earnest as Rodrigues’s intentions may be, he remains a Westerner who believes that his religion is the only religion. I mention this lest anyone feel that Scorsese is in any way portraying Rodrigues determination in an admirable light. Critics have, understandably, read Silence as a white saviour narrative. One in which we are asked to sympathise with the virginal Western priest who suffers horribly in his quest to enlighten a savage land. In this scene Scorsese exposes the arrogance of both Rodrigues and the Catholic Church. As a Catholic himself the director proves himself a sharp critic of its history.

It should come as no surprise that physical pain and threat of death do not convince Rodrigues to apostatise. From its very inception Catholicism has proved an inherently masochistic religion, founded in the name of a Saviour who suffered an agonising death for the redemption of man. Catholic saints Sabastian and Ignatius claimed to rejoice in suffering, believing it to be trials from God. Many of them participated in the mortification of the flesh through fasting and flagellation, a practise that was adopted by Lutherans and other Christian sects. Self-flagellation continued to be practised right through until the 1960s, allegedly by figures as recent as Pope John Paul II. But to the Christian there is no form of bodily sacrifice greater than martyrdom. To die for one’s belief is the ultimate demonstration of faith. In Christianity, those killed for spreading the Gospel are venerated and elevated to Sainthood.

During the time in which Silence is set Japan found itself with no shortage of Christian Martyrs. Since the arrival of Francis Xavier in 1549 the gospel of Christianity had spread slowly, but strongly. The presence of Jesuit priests was tolerated, possibly because of their ability to liaise between Japanese fuedel lords (known as daimyo) and Portuguese traders. By the time Toyotomi Hideyoshi assumed power in 1585 there were estimated to have been 130,000 converts in Japan including several daimyō. It made Japan easily the largest Christian community outside of Europe. Unfortunately, Hideyoshi viewed Christianity as a symbol of European colonisation and outlawed its practise, beginning with the execution of twenty-six Christians in 1597. These were the first martyrs in Japan and in 1862 Pope Pius IX canonized the missionaries and converts, formally recognising them as Saints.

 Throughout Silence Rodrigues romanticizes the notion of martyring himself to an almost psychotic degree. He views his journey into Japan as a mission from God and casts himself as its messianic figure. Likening himself to Christ and other persecuted Christians. On their arrival Garupe remarks on their decision to take the fallen Christian Kichijiro (Yōsuke Kubozuka) as their guide. “We ‘ve trusted that man with our lives.” He says with scepticism, to which Rodrigues replies; “Jesus trusted even worse.” When leading mass under the cover of night he likens himself to the earliest Christians, practising in catacombs under persecution from the Roman Empire. While on the run he stumbles, sick and exhausted, onto a pool and sees the face of Christ in his reflection. His messiah complex at its most blatant. So, when he finally is captured Rodrigues shows no fear of death. In fact he outright dares the Japanese to execute him so that his blood may be the seed of Christianity in Japan.

He is not killed though because Inquisitor Inoue knows the danger of a Christian Martyr. According to University of San Francisco Professor Antoni Ucerler; “[The Japanese] realized that the Christians were emboldened by this example of people dying for their faith…What would really break the Christian community?’ they thought. ‘Well, if we could get not only the Christians but also the Jesuits to renounce their own faith, then that would really demoralize the Christians.” That became their approach.” So, Inoue sets about getting Rodrigues to renounce, first by reasoning with him, bringing the highest figures of authority before Rodrigues to patiently explain that Christianity is of no use to Japan and that its continued existence presents a danger to Japanese society. In private he tries to civilly explain the connection between Christianity and the Christian nations which would try to destroy Japan. The, when the time for civility is over Inoue saps at Rodrigues’s will.

 Rodrigues is taken to the beach where his fellow Jesuit Garupe is marched to sea with a flock of apostatised Christians. Even though they have recanted they are taken out to the water and drowned, and Rodrigues is forced to watch as Garupe dies, desperately trying to save them. He sees people die, not for their faith but for the priest that led them. In Garupe he loses the closest allay he has had in this strange land and sees the consequences of refusing to apostatize. The weight of it drives Rodrigues mad and so when he is at his lowest moment Inoue takes him to see Ferreira.

Little is known of the real Cristóvão Ferreira, only that he was a Portuguese Catholic Priest who travelled to Japan in around 1609. He ministered in the country for over twenty years, under the watchful eye of the Tokugawa Shogunate which inherited much of Hideyoshi’s suspicions about Christianity. In 1633 Ferreira was captured and forced to endure five hours of Tsurushi or ‘The Pit’. A practise in which Christians are suspended upside-down in a five-foot deep hole, with an incision in their neck to allow the blood to drain slowly. It results in a long and painful death and after five hours Ferreira apostatised. He subsequently took a Japanese name and wife and wrote several books on natural law before his death.

 In Silence this fictional version of Ferreira is broken, but not by the torment he endures. Rather it is the realisation that the torment, the pain and labour was pointless.  The Japanese who ‘converted’ never fully understood the doctrine he preached. The language barrier caused them to distort the image of the Christian god into one that suited their culture. When Francis Xavier first landed in Japan, he used the term ‘Deus’, the Latin word for God to refer to Jesus Christ. The Japanese mistook this for ‘Dainichi’, their word for the Great Sun Buddha. While the Japanese believed Christianity to be a form of Sun worship, similar to their own Xavier in turn believe Dainichi to be a creator god analogous to Christ. While Xavier would discover his error and aggressively preach Deus as the word of God the Japanese distortion of Christianity had already begun. The depth of that distortion was enough to convince this Ferreira that the Japanese converts were not true Christians. 

“The Japanese cannot think of an existence beyond the realm of nature. For them nothing transcends the human. They can’t conceive of our idea of the Christian God.’

Silence is not subtle about Japan’s form of Christianity only being a distortion. When Rodrigues and Garupe first arrive in Japan they find the hidden Christians believing themselves guided by ‘Jiisima’, an obvious mistranslation of ‘Jesus’. When they baptise a Japanese infant, the parents believe that they will immediately enter paradise, not realising that it is the Christian afterlife, rather than part of the physical realm. A conversation between Rodrigues and his Interpreter (Asano Tadanobu) highlights this cultural divide. The Japanese worship the Buddha, a thing that they believe men can become. In the West they worship Christ, an aspect of God which descended to become a man. The film comes down to the point that this cultural divide is, for the most part, too great for East and West to cross. So, with the thought of innocent people suffering and dying, not for God but for his own stubbornness, Rodrigues apostatises.

You may then ask if his faith was resilient in the end. As mentioned, for one who has dedicated their life to Christ, it would be unthinkable to commit Fumi-E, to trample. But Rodrigues only tramples when he finally hears God’s voice granting him permission. The remainder of the film shows him living in captivity in Japan, forced to take a Japanese wife, to apostatise regularly and write vows of renunciation. He is said to never acknowledge the Christian God, by word of symbol, even until his dying day. Yet when his body is cremated, we see Rodrigues clutching a tiny wooden cross, a handmade gift from one of his Japanese disciples.

The question then is why does Rodrigues remain faithful, even when continuing his faith is a futile act? The Japanese can never truly be converted and attempting to maintain even their parody of Christianity brings swift punishment, as we see enacted on Kichijiro late in the film. This is because Rodrigues’s faith is no longer for the Japanese. In contrast to his egotistical defiance seen earlier his Christianity is something exclusively for him to take guidance from. He is not baptising infants or offering confession to sinners. He is not spreading a Western doctrine in a culture that has no interest or understanding of it. His faith is a personal one and in that form it can remain resilient to the end.




Sunday, 20 January 2019

Battle of the Sexes


Battle of the Sexes plays out like 2/3rds of a great movie paired with 1/3rd of Steve Carrel's SNL skits. The plot revolves around Emma Stone as Billie Jean King, a 29-year-old tennis champion who becomes fed up with being offered paltry prize money roughly a tenth of what her male peers earn. Teaming up with editor Gladys Heldman, King establishes her own women-only tournament. Aiming to raise the profile of women's athletics and make the tennis more accessible to the general public King works tirelessly, at great risk to her career. Only becoming distracted when a flirtation with hairdresser Marilyn Barnett (Andrea Riseborough) awakens previously unknown feelings in her.

Meanwhile Carrell's Bobby Riggs is...doing other stuff. Namely getting kicked out by his wife after his gambling addiction ticks her off too many times. Seeing opportunity in King's noble cause, Bobby challenges her to an exhibition match to, in essence, prove men's tennis as superior. He treats the entire thing like a sideshow act; training in goofy costumes, posing nude and making attention-grabbing remarks.

Carrell gives it his best. As the Faris's previous film Little Miss Sunshine proved, the former SNL-star is a deft hand at balancing comedy with drama. In Riggs we see a man trying relentlessly to embody the hustler persona he's built for himself, forever struggling to conceal his deep melancholy. It's good stuff, it's just so much less interesting than King's storyline. Which is a shame because they're given roughly the same amount of screen time. As if there's some sort of parity between Riggs' huckster antics and King's cause. Instead the obviously richer, more emotive storyline is undercut in service of cheap jokes. Yes, all evidence suggests that this is accurate of Bobby Riggs' character but is it necessary?

The real story of Battle of the Sexes is one of the systemic sexism within professional tennis, the casual disregard for female players held by the male establishment. From the ease at which Jack Kramer (Bill Pullman) offers meager tournament payouts for women champions to the condescension of real-life sports journalist Howard Coswell draping his arm around co-commentator Rosie Casals during a live broadcast. These are the meat and potatoes of the film while Riggs' antics are clearly the dessert. Having the two so drastically separated though does a disservice to such an otherwise rich story.