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Posted by on Nov 28, 2015 in Blog, Movie Reviews | 2 comments

Standing Tall in the Darkness (Movie Review: “Spotlight”)

 

file_611849_spotlight-trailer

Most mornings between 1993 and 2000, I walked uptown from the Washington metro to my workplace on Massachusetts Avenue, along what’s fashionably referred to as “Embassy Row.”

A few blocks from DuPont Circle, a lonely-looking man used to stand outside on the sidewalk and silently protest.  Rain, shine, or snow, he came every morning.  He usually held a sign, sometimes two — one in each hand.  Occasionally, he handed out flyers on which something was printed and written, although few if any people on the sidewalk stopped long enough to take one.  I passed him by frequently.  I never took one.

 

The man looked to be in his late forties, or early fifties, maybe.  He appeared unhealthy, far beyond his calendar years, as though he’d been stuck with the nagging companion of some beastly inner demon for a very long time.  He wore glasses and appeared to be the kind of middle-aged man one imagined didn’t go out on many dates.  He looked like a sad person, because probably within his heart — he was a sad man carrying a weighty burden.

But he was also a brave man.  Some might even say — a hero to many.  I came to learn this lesson much later on, as in this last week, while remembering those Washington mornings and reflecting upon my encounters with the man, merely as a passerby.  As I recalled, the protester hoisted placards announcing that he’d been molested as a young boy, while under the custodial tutelage of the holy Catholic Church.  Presumably, he was sexually abused by one of its priests, probably multiple times.  But instead of getting answers, or an apology, or some small measure of solace, instead, all the man received was disparagement.  The scorn came from everyone — the holy church, the distracting media, and a disinterested public who didn’t care much.  As for myself, I cared even less.

The man wanted the world to know, not his shame; for he had no reason to be shameful.  It was the church’s shame that demanded the widest possible exposure and righting.  Mostly, it was justice that needed doing.  At the time, the Catholic Church would not even acknowledge it had a serious problem.  Offenders, by the hundreds, later the thousands, were reassigned to re-do their dirty acts elsewhere in other parishes where the secrets remained hidden.  Victims, those who didn’t commit suicide, were paid off.  A conspiracy of silence among tens of millions of Catholics only made the situation worse.  The echo of reticence was indeed deafening.  Lawyers, working both sides, made a killing each time a new lawsuit was filed somewhere, none ever seeing the light of day of the front page, nor the eyes of the world for the crimes that had been committed.  It was as though, the victims were invisible.

But not that brave and lonely man, he who protested for seven years each morning, no matter what the conditions, a few blocks from DuPont Circle.

Every day, he came.

__________

Spotlight is a much-needed reminder that journalism can accomplish some extraordinarily noble things.

Based on the true story of a small group of investigative reporters from The Boston Globe, the film is a riveting, edge-of-your-seat two-hour cat and mouse game, where truth and ultimately justice are the elusive targets, protected institutionally by a gauntlet of powerful elites — including the Catholic Church and Boston society (as we find out, they’re one and the same).

Spotlight’s reporters are assigned to a special task force seeking to uncover sex abuse scandals within the Archdiocese of Boston.  At first, the problem is believed to be only “a few bad apples.”  Then, after some serious digging begins thanks to some very hard-working, grossly underpaid reporters, we find out that most of the entire barrel is rotten to the core.  We discover the real-life scandals which occurred between 1962 and 2001 (when this film takes place) were much bigger and far more repugnant than anyone could have possibly imagined.  One cannot overstate the critical role of print journalism here in that arduous journey of discovery.  If it weren’t for these reporters, and good people who helped them along the way, priests would still be off in dark places molesting kids.  Try and remember that, especially next time you hear about another news division being closed down somewhere because it doesn’t turn a profit for shareholders, or you so eagerly leap into the collective bonfire of criticism of mainstream news media, as biased.  Fact is, terrible things would be happening in just about every sphere of life were it not for spotlights prowling around for a good news story.

If all this sounds like the plot for “All the President’s Men,” the 1976 cinematic masterpiece about The Washington Post’s exposure of the Watergate scandal, which ultimately led to the downfall and resignation of President Richard Nixon, well, there are some obvious similarities.  Michael Keaton, fresh off his Oscar-nominated performance in last year’s “Birdman” is perfectly cast as a sort of Bob Woodward/Robert Redford, the protagonist to Mark Ruffalo’s Carl Bernstein/Dustin Hoffman.  Then, there’s Liev Schreiber, who’s every bit as authoritative as Ben Bradley/Jason Robards as the newspaper’s rudder-like editor.  But it’s not a president they’re after.  That would be too easy.  We’re talking about priests here, holy men of the cloth, seemingly far more untouchable, especially in Catholic-dominated Boston.

Despite the unsavory subject matter, which is the sex abuse of minors, there’s nothing particularly cringe-worthy in the film other than the grotesque abuse of power — which in and of itself comes across as even more bothersome.  That so very many would conspire to let others get away with such abominable crimes against children is unfathomable, but yes — it happened.

There’s one particular scene in “Spotlight,” which subtly yet succinctly depicts the omnipresent power of the Catholic Church over daily life.  Rachel McAdams, one of the team’s investigators desperately pleads with one of the victims to come forward and speak out.  She’s seen standing alone on a porch in the maze of Irish South Boston, getting door after door slammed in her face.  The camera lens pans out slowly, and then we see all the silence clearly explained — two pervading church spires behind the row houses towering over not just that home with a victim inside, but the entire neighborhood and all its inhabitants.  In Boston, the church sees and hears everything.

That said, the message of this film goes far beyond priests doing awful things or the hypocrisy of the Church.  It’s about power, and the abuse thereof.  It’s also about brave souls doing truly righteous deeds.  One can only wonder how many more scandals out there go unnoticed and uncovered?  How many crimes go unreported and unpunished?  This is why we need healthy media, and investigative journalism, now, more than ever.

Fittingly, the real Spotlight team for The Boston Globe won the 2003 Pulitzer Prize for Public Service for its exemplary work.  I suspect that this film too will garner its share of awards, including a few Oscars.  Then again, for those involved in projects of this magnitude, the work wasn’t necessarily about personal recognition or getting applause from the gallery.  It was about something greater and more meaningful.

Written and directed by Thomas McCarthy, “Spotlight” is a movie that deserves to be seen.  And it’s news stories like this that deserve to be read and watched.  And, perhaps most of all, it’s the victims who deserve to finally be heard following so long a silence.

__________

Prior to seeing “Spotlight,” I had not thought about the lone man with the signs who was busy handing out the flyers while protesting each morning, professing to be a victim of the church.  He was nearly erased from my memory.  Yet afterward, I was starkly and strangely reminded of him.  Now, albeit belatedly, I have come to appreciate that tremendous act of defiance and courage, openly testifying that terrible things did indeed happen, and those in charge mostly looked the other way.

Still, my shame is that I walked passed the man perhaps a few hundred times, maybe more than that, never once uttering a word, nor granting even a hint of sustenance from a total stranger that might have provided some tiny fragment of fulfillment that his cause was noble, that his actions had not been in vain.  I never knew his name.  I don’t even know if he’s still living.

I cannot go back now and correct my silence, then.  But, at least, I can and will acknowledge it now.  Let this article be my mea culpa.

2 Comments

  1. Just another blow to the society we felt could be trusted. What institution, what man will deliver us from this loss. My country , my country tis of thy.

  2. I take pictures, you write in pictures.

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