Blake, Richard A. Chicago: Loyola Press, 2000. Pp. 274. ISBN 0-8294-1550-5.
[1] A long-standing reviewer for America, Richard A. Blake
occasionally exercises his considerable analytical powers beyond the
confines of a weekly and provides readers with provocative book-length
studies. Although he is knowledgeable as to developments in film scholarship,
he trusts his own instincts and does not get carried away from what
he does best: bringing the reader closer to the films themselves.
In Afterimage, Blake finally looks at the work of a number
of popular filmmakers with backgrounds from his own Catholic faith
community. A major conceptual influence on the study is David Tracy's
The Analogical Imagination, a theological work which has exerted
substantial influence on how the religious imagination is understood.
[2] Based on his understanding of Tracy (or, more accurately, his
understanding of Andrew Greeley, who has tirelessly propagated and
expanded on the theologian from his own sociological perspective),
Blake explains that the religious imagination of the theist is predicated
on whether it focuses on God's immanence or transcendence; i.e., whether
the stress is on God's presence or absence. For its resultant tendency
to generate metaphors and stories to celebrate the sacramental vision
of the world such a sensibility inspires, the former focus is termed
the analogical imagination. Hardly surprising, with its sacramental
proclivity, the analogical imagination dominates, although it does
not monopolize, the Catholic imagination.
[3] This conceptual framework is of fundamental significance for
Blake's study. The filmmakers he has chosen are rarely known for exploring
specifically Catholic themes; in fact, they are part of the Hollywood
secular mainstream tradition. Some contest their Catholic faith, or
have even left it behind them. Nonetheless, Blake's point of departure
rests on the assumption that the directors "are likely to carry with
them the 'stories' through which they have learned to situate questions
of the ultimate meaning of life, and these in turn tend to shape the
meaning of events in daily life, like love, community, loyalty, death,
family, sex, conflict, violence, and sacrifice" (11-12).
[4] The above concerns have affected the order of his investigation.
Blake has rejected a chronological approach, opting instead to begin
with the most exemplary test case, i.e. the director for whom the
Catholic consciousness is closest to the surface. Martin Scorsese
has referred to the influence of his religious background on his films
a number of times–thus Blake easily finds these concerns in
his work (the chapter is tellingly subtitled "Sacramental Universe").
Then in a slightly more random order he treats Alfred Hitchcock, Frank
Capra, John Ford and Francis Ford Coppola, each in separate chapters.
His final chapter deals with Brian De Palma, the filmmaker who has
moved farthest away from surface Catholic concerns, and in whose films
one can indeed speak of the "afterimage" of his childhood faith at
best. (Again, the subtitle "Homilies from the Dark Side" renders the
gist of the critic's readings.)
[5] As a seasoned critic, his analyses of the selected films are
quite readable. Blake wisely avoids polemics with some of the standard
academic reductionist readings of films like Hitchcock's Rear Window,
for this would simply burden his study. (Some film scholars like Mary
P. Nichols are closer in spirit to the religious humanism of the study).
Although his analyses vary in length, Blake gives a high number of
films a fairly thorough treatment. Considering the sizeable body of
work of the filmmakers in question, however, a high degree of selectivity
has been exercised on the part of the author, which opens him up to
the criticism of possibly choosing films that best suit his thesis.
Nonetheless, on the whole Blake understands the collaborative nature
of filmmaking and seems more cautious in his claims than the exuberant
Greeley who has inspired him. Occasionally he becomes ponderous in
applying his method; for instance, after a while one gets the impression
that almost every meal in a Ford film has Eucharistic significance
for the critic.
[6] Certain issues come to mind upon reading Afterimage. For
one, there is the barely suggested problem of the "dialectical" (or
Protestant) imagination. This is not Blake's concern, but taking into
account the dynamic nature of the religious imagination and the vast
array of denominations, could such a concept be useful for its study
in film or other areas of popular culture? Catholicism also has its
variations, which Blake stresses, but the analogical (or "Catholic")
imagination seems to me more workable than its counterpart, and in
practice the dialogical imagination remains something of a foil for
the former. Even at that, at least from Blake's approach the analogical
imagination would appear to be a useful tool mainly where the filmmaker
has a more pronounced influence on his or her films' production (Nancy
Savoca comes to mind). Since such Hollywood directors are rare, this
limits the applicability of the concept. Or does it?
[7] If we accept Blake's analysis that these filmmakers have conveyed
something of their Catholic sensibility (latent or otherwise) in their
work, it should be remembered that directors like Capra, Ford, and
Hitchcock were allowed to impart a personal stamp on their films because
of their profitability. Thus if we have the Catholic imagination on
the part of the filmmakers, could not the fact that a quarter of their
potential American audience were also Catholic have influenced the
popularity of their films? Might not this have further affected
the construction of certain Hollywood stories to meet thematic preferences
for this huge "niche" audience? Just to give one example, Capra has
had an enormous impact on the ubiquitous American tradition of "feel
good" films, which are essentially comedies of grace, probably closer
to the analogical imagination than to its dialectical counterpart.
This, in turn, gives advantages to certain directors; as Graham Greene
observed in the case of Capra, it makes a difference whether someone
is telling a story out of heartfelt conviction or simply following
a convention, which possibly brings the circle back to its (religious)
point of departure.
[8] Blake's Afterimage is a stimulating study in its own right,
but the questions it raises potentially have an even greater meaning
for the study of religion and popular film than the cases the author
actually presents.
Christopher Garbowski
Maria Curie-Sklodowska University
Lublin, Poland
