IT IS truly laudable that the 1994 film Priest (Cert. 15) is finally on Blu-ray, a format getting nearer cinema’s audio-visual quality than DVD. Likewise, its larger storage capability enables the addition of several fascinating extras, unavailable via television or online. It all makes this new BFI product tremendously valuable, let alone that the themes — safeguarding, celibacy, ecclesiastical authority, the nature of faith, and our relationships — are as powerfully pertinent as when the film was first made.
The screenwriter Jimmy McGovern (Cracker, Time) asserts in one of the features that simple narratives work dramatically only if there is complexity of characterisation. We get plenty of both. A young priest, Greg Pilkington (Linus Roache), joins Fr Matthew Thomas (Tom Wilkinson) at St Mary’s Roman Catholic Church in run-down Liverpool. They are chalk and cheese: one priggish, the elder compassionate. Theological arguments quickly ensue. For Matthew, the systemic oppression of working-class people in the Thatcher years is like spitting in the face of God. Greg’s take on the gospel considers all sin the result of individual human fallibility.
There is also tension over church order. Greg wants to play by the rules. Matthew forever questions an institution that, in his view, denies people, especially the clergy, the opportunity to become their true selves. It is clear from the add-ons that this is McGovern’s own position, along with that of the director, Antonia Bird. In her Guardian-sponsored lecture, she describes how she was forced to cut Priest substantially. It is a pity that the deleted scenes aren’t included in the menu. Nevertheless, we still see how skilfully she engages with conflicted human beings and adds fresh dimensions to McGovern’s text.
Greg, regarding himself in the mirror, removes his clerical collar and sets off to a gay bar. There, he meets Graham (Robert Carlyle), a fellow Catholic, who becomes the love of his life, but, according to their faith, must be resisted. Matthew will have none of this. In a relationship with their housekeeper, he is the better pastor for it.
Greg is already in great turmoil. Church rules on the seal of confession prevent his intervening in an incestuous relationship between a father and his 14-year-old daughter. McGovern, admitting that he sometimes gives the devil the best tunes, is at pains to provide the abuser with strong arguments for his behaviour. The same can be said when Greg’s homosexual practices become public knowledge. There is blanket disapproval that it is sinful, Matthew providing the exception.
The film ignores the emerging debate over the official line. Priest, even when waxing polemical (simplicity of narrative becoming simplistic), manages to remain utterly poignant, as well as often very funny. McGovern, a cradle Catholic, argues that there are times when all of us are priests to one another. Greg, for instance, is ministered to from a surprising quarter.
Perhaps that is why Derek Worlock, Archbishop of Liverpool, rising above condemnation of the movie, called it profoundly Catholic. McGovern continues to write about the clergy. His television series Broken (2017) again explored the notion of priest as wounded healer with equally good effect.
Cat. no. BFIB1553 is available from home-entertainment retailers and the BFI Shop at BFI Southbank.
