The Shoes of the Fisherman

The Shoes of the Fisherman, released in 1968 and based on the 1963 novel of the same name by Morris L. West, is in one sense a Cold War film. The plot centers on the journey of a Russian political prisoner, a former archbishop from the Ukraine, who is released to the Vatican by the Soviet premier and is soon elected pope, only to be then roped into committing the resources of the Church to help save China from famine and thus avert a nuclear war.

 As in other films of this ilk and of this era, the acting is generally less than stellar, perhaps because much of the cast is attempting—sometimes with ludicrous results—to speak in one foreign accent or another. Moreover, the movie relies a great deal for its dramatic impact on the opulence of the Vatican, from its magnificent buildings to its stately rituals. The Shoes of the Fisherman is also marred by a cheesy subplot.

 But there is more to this film than its Cold War setting and plot orientation, and in light of current events unfolding in the Roman Catholic Church, it is well worth spending 162 minutes to experience Morris West’s idealized vision of the papacy, a vision rendered achingly compelling by the possibility of its realization.

 From the outset, the movie deals sensitively with the question of tension between orthodox and unorthodox theology, an ever-present theme in the post-Vatican II Church. When Kyril Lakota, political prisoner 103592R (played by Anthony Quinn), is brought to Moscow from a Siberian work camp, he is released into the custody and care of a representative sent by the Vatican, Father David Telemond (Oskar Werner). The young priest is a theologian/archaeologist/philosopher whose “work is under study by a special pontifical commission.” On the flight to Rome Father Telemond tells Lakota, “For years I have been forbidden to teach or to publish anything. I was suspect of holding opinions dangerous to the faith.” Once in the Vatican, the newly appointed Cardinal Lakota reads one of the young cleric’s books and declares to the dismayed theologian that he does not understand and cannot support his radical views. Nevertheless, a close friendship develops between them.

 Meanwhile, Father Telemond is called to explain his views in front of a commission composed entirely of clergy. He is told that the purpose of the commission is to examine the content of his works “to see if they conform to fundamental Christian doctrine.” Telemond claims that he is “one man trying to answer the questions of every man…Who am I? Why am I here? Where am I going? Is there any sense in beauty and ugliness, in terror and suffering and in daily death, which make up the pattern of existence?” Through a series of leading questions, his interrogators eventually come to the ultimate question of Father Telemond’s views on “good or evil, right or wrong, in the Christian sense.” At one point the young priest is accused of heresy.

 The meeting is adjourned when a priest arrives to announce that the pope has collapsed. The pontiff soon dies, and the inquisition resumes only after the new pope has been elected. In the end, the commission rules that “the works of Father Telemond present ambiguities and even grave errors in philosophical and theological matters which offend Catholic doctrine.” The commission recommends that the priest “be prohibited from teaching or publishing the dubious opinions above mentioned until a full and formal examination has been made.” The newly elected Pope Kyril, who has not only remained Telemond’s friend but has also appointed him as a special papal advisor, has no choice but to accept the ruling of the commission and to silence the earnest young theologian. One wonders how many times those words of prohibition were used during the pontificates of Pius XII and John Paul II.

 The movie also gently criticizes the pretensions and perks of the Roman curia, the elite group of senior clerics that governs the Church from the Vatican. Here is a conversation between Cardinals Rinaldi (Vittorio De Sica) and Leone (Leo McKern) which takes place shortly before the conclave to elect a new pope begins:

 Rinaldi: We are all too old. There are not more than half a dozen of us who can give the church what it needs at this moment.

 Leone: Do you think you are one of them?

 Rinaldi: One what?

 Leone: One of the half dozen.

 Rinaldi: I know I’m not.

 Leone: Do you think I have a chance of election?

 Rinaldi (laughs): I hope not.

 Leone (also laughs): Don’t worry. I know I haven’t. You know, Valerio, I should have been a country priest, with just enough theology to hear confession and just enough Latin to get through Mass. I would sit in front of my church on summer evenings and talk about the crops. And what am I now? A walking encyclopaedia of dogma. A theological dictionary on two legs.

 Rinaldi: Each of us has his own cross….Do you know what mine is? My cross, I mean. To be rich and content and fulfilled and to know that I have deserved none of it and that when I am called to judgment, I must depend utterly on the mercy of God.

 One wonders whether Leone is sincere in his desire for the simple life, but if he does covet the papal ring, he is soon disappointed. After seven rounds of voting have failed to elect a new pope, the frontrunners have all exhausted their chances. During a break in the conclave, a group of cardinals is discussing the new generation of priests who favour change, even revolution, and the Russian cardinal is asked for his opinion as he has experienced revolution first-hand. Reluctantly he offers his thoughts, and the humble but steel-willed Lakota makes a powerful impression.

 Lakota: We should manufacture the authentic Christian revolution: work for all, bread for all, dignity for all men.

 Leone: But without violence.

 Lakota: Well, excuse me, but violence is a reaction against a situation that has become intolerable, isn’t it?

 Leone (dubiously): Oh?

 Lakota: Well, in the camps in Siberia, we were starved and brutalized. I stole…I….I stole some bread. I fed it crumb by crumb to a man whose jaw had been broken by a guard. I…I fought the guard to save my friend. I could have killed him. That was a terrifying experience. I, a bishop, could have killed a man.

 Rinaldi: So as a bishop you would give your approval to social disorder.

 Lakota: I might be forced to accept it as a price for social change, yes.

 Rinaldi: You are walking a moral tightrope.

 Lakota: We all have to walk it. That is what we pay for being men.

 Rinaldi: But what if you had killed the guard?

 Lakota: I don’t know. I…I don’t know, Eminence. I do know we’re in action in a brutal world. The children of God are ours to protect, and if we have to fight, we fight.

 In the voting session that follows this conversation, Rinaldi stands to pledge his vote to Lakota, and within moments enough cardinals follow suit to ensure that the Russian is proclaimed pope. It is from this point, and throughout the second half of the film, that the movie’s ideal image of a modern pope is presented. We should keep in mind that the film was released just three years after the end of the Second Vatican Council.

 The film strives to depict the new pope as a man of simplicity and humility. Upon his election he introduces himself to his private butler as Kyril Lakota. A short time later, he prevails upon that same butler to find him a black cassock and hat so that he can sneak out of the Vatican and explore the alleyways of Rome as an ordinary priest. In one of the more touching scenes from the film, Kyril brings medicine from a pharmacy to an English doctor who is treating a dying man in a crowded tenement. When he sees the condition of the man, Kyril immediately begins to administer the last rites, but he is quickly told that the man is not Christian; he is a Jew. The Holy Father puts his hat on, covers his face with his hand and begins to chant the Hebrew prayer for the dying.

 When Kyril I meets the Soviet premier Kamenev on the way to negotiate with the Chinese leader in an effort to avert nuclear war, Kamenev says, “You are changed.” Lakota responds, “I do not feel changed.” Kamenev tells him, “There was a pride in you once. More, an arrogance, as if you carried the truth in a private purse and no one could dispute it with you. When I hated you—and I did—it was because of that.” Lakota says, “I am a low man who sits too high for his gifts.”

 Yet Pope Kyril recognizes both his power—as religious leader of 800 million people—and his terrifying responsibility to embrace and carry out the charitable mission of the Church. After the meeting with the Chinese premier, in spite of the opposition of many in the inner circle of the Vatican, he pledges the entire wealth of the Church to save the Chinese people from famine. The pledge is made as an example to remind all in the West of their duty in charity.

 At his coronation, in front of half a million people in St. Peter’s Square, Kyril rejects the Triple Tiara that has been a papal symbol since ancient times and says, “Our Lord Jesus Christ, whose Vicar I am, was crowned with thorns. I stand before you bareheaded because I am your servant.”

 He then recites the famous verses from 1 Corinthians: “Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels and have not charity, I am become a sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal. Though I have all faith so that I could remove mountains and have not charity, I am nothing.”

 As I said above, the film offers us its vision of an ideal pope, one who has the humility to recognize that he—along with his Church and all its wealth—is the servant of the people of God, in other words, of all people.

 Should this film, by some miracle, be shown to the cardinals participating in the coming papal conclave, and should the fact of that screening, by an equally stupendous miracle, be made known to the world, a glimmer of childish hope for the election of a humble shepherd held by millions of thoughtful Catholics and non-Catholics alike might in fact grow into a ray.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dTGZ8Rl5kWU

 

Image Credit

“The Shoes of the Fisherman.” Wikipedia Image

 

This is an updated version of an article that appeared in my blog, Confessions of a Liturgy Queen, on April 14, 2010

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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