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
