The Crime of Father Amaro

Sure, there's plenty of blame to go around, the film is rather brave in its condemnation of social and religious hypocrisy and its expose of political corruption. It tosses up a laundry list of items that may be embarrassing to the church (which inevitably also happen in real-life) but aside from the shock value, the filmmaker seems to have little to say about the vital dogma issues he raises such as celibacy for the priests.

Why is the word "crime" singular when the title character, our newly minted Father Amaro, assists in money laundering in indirect cahoots with the local drug lord, makes the local newspaper publish lies, finances an abortion, and gets his rocks off with an underage nymph under the guise of preparing her for a nunnery? Perhaps because all of these misgivings hark back to one failing: the lack of a conscience fitting to a man in his calling.

Looking at it as a contextual romance gone awry instead of as a religious statement, both the protagonists sport innocence and carnality. Their acting is convincing. The female character is quite attractive, for what it's worth, and one can see why a young priest would have zipper troubles in her company.

In the end though, while the movie did manage to hold my attention I felt that its sense of right and wrong was stultifyingly out of depth and despite all its hardhitting cameos, ultimately a bit unimaginative. Perhaps an attractive rental but I can't grasp why this was a record-breaking megahit in Mexico.

The problem that I have with the film is less a cinematic problem than a literary problem. A "pet peeve" of mine is when a producer or director feels that he/she can "improve" upon a story that is already an acknowledged masterwork, and makes major changes that are needless. On occasion this is necessary due to the directors desire to focus on a certain aspect of a work, or present a work cinematically that would not normally be "doable" if one stuck closely to the original text (the recent release of "Troy is a good example). I understand that this is often necessary, but at least the director ought to have the good graces to present the work under a different name; thus peterson calls his movie "Troy" and not "the Iliad."

I think Bernal made an error by moving the story from rural 19th century Portugal to modern Mexico. The thing that makes this story (and indeed the adapted movie) so compelling is that it contains an element of universality that removes any need to update it. The original book by Eça de Queiróz is as timely now as when he first wrote it. Queiróz also writes novels that are intensely "visual" (if such a word can be applied to writing) and uniquely capable of being adapted to film. It's a minor gripe, and should not dissuade anyone from watching an excellent film, but it remains none the less.