This photo provided by Open Road Films shows, from left, Rachel McAdams, as Sacha Pfeiffer; Mark Ruffalo, as Michael Rezendes; Brian d’Arcy James, as Matt Carroll; Michael Keaton, as Walter “Robby” Robinson; and John Slattery as Ben Bradlee Jr., in a scene from the film “Spotlight.” (Kerry Hayes, Open Road Films via AP)
Editor’s Note: Spoilers for the forthcoming “Spotlight” move are ahead.
I don’t really want to write about this. I’m tired of writing about this, and you’re probably tired of reading about this.
I get so angry, and it really ticks me off. But I said I would preview this new Oscar-buzzworthy movie called “Spotlight”, about The Boston Globe . Is it that long ago already? The film really affected me. Unfortunately, it didn’t feel at all dated.
The story focuses on four investigative reporters at The Globe who are part of the “Spotlight” team. They are given more leeway by their publisher and editors than most reporters have today; the financial pressure of the newspaper business has put the industry in survival mode, so letting reporters follow their head for months, even years on a story, is much rarer than it used to be. But the film takes you inside the paper, the story, the leads that are blocked or that lead nowhere. It feels like “All the Cardinal’s Men,” and it occasionally has a dark parking-garage spooky vibe, making some reporters feel, “Do I really want to keep at this?”
But they are appropriately Boston dogged. The film is couched as and names a battle between two enormous, traditional and resource-laden cultural titans: the flagship Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Boston, and the prestigious and feisty big-town Globe. The church counter-punches well, insinuates, misleads, threatens with a velvet glove. Reporters are Catholics themselves, and they get subtle family and ‘hood messages to take it easy, back off. Aren’t there bigger Friday fish to fry, especially after Sept. 11, which happened in the middle of this investigation? Should we undermine such significant institutions in a time of crisis?
Plug away they do, patiently building the story, filling in the gaps. Mark Ruffalo, Michael Keaton and Rachel McAdams are especially compelling, alternately aggressive and hesitant, bruised from running into stone walls and occasionally stumbling into stained glass light. They find victims, witnesses, expert help, and more victims, but the perps are shadowy and elusive, purposefully moved, hidden, “treated,” unremorseful.
The journalists find, to their surprise, that they have actually been told this story before, but missed its significance. The leader of SNAP (Survivors Network of those Abused by Priests, a clumsy acronym for some righteously angry and wounded adults) shows the reporters his trove of evidence and admonishes them for how often he’s shown this to reporters before. As the story matures, as two abusers grows to near 90 total, as it grows beyond Boston suburbs into a national and international story, the media, oft-maligned these days, shows restraint, patience, perseverance, even as competitors seem poised to scoop their thunder and pressure mounts inside and out to “put the story in perspective,” meaning, “Back off, Jack, remember who you’re dealing with.”
When the big break comes, itap a hard-bitten, been-around-the-block lawyer who gets them the documents that seal the deal. But hard work won them the luck to get the story, and it let the director shoot his “roll-the-presses” scene. We last see the lawyer entering a meeting with more parents and children. The whole story isn’t put to bed.
Like many of the Bostonians in this film, I was born, baptized and raised Irish Catholic. I was a Catholic priest for almost 20 years. I was shocked and repelled by the crimes the church covered up. I know they thought the priests could be healed of their “sins.” But the higher-ups in the hierarchy didn’t understand the depth of the hurt, the lasting effect of the deeds, the suspicion, the distrust, the betrayal these kids and families felt. The kids saw these priests as God; how could they say no? Maybe itap because bishps are not allowed to be biological fathers of children, like some of the outraged dads in the film. They allowed the thin black line of protection to surround the pedophiles, wanting to be “pastoral” to their brothers. They did not understand the consequences of these crimes on children, they did not sufficiently feel it like the person in the pew. If they want to be pastoral, an appropriate response would be to celebrate Mass with these criminals in their prison cells on Christmas Eve.
In the end, go see the movie. You’ll enjoy it and be moved. Moved to action, I hope.
But remember what the story is.
Ultimately itap not just about two major cultural institutions clashing, or about the great difference journalists can make, or about cover ups, or about conniving Cardinals or even sick, abusive priests. Itap about evil visited on children. Itap about kids, what happens to them sometimes, and will happen again if we don’t act to stop it. Think about the places and situations these kids were put in: Feel the trapped, claustrophobic space on the chair, the rug, the ground, the bed. Feel what itap like to be there when you’re five, or eight, or 11. We need to be absolutely sure these kids get the years of help they need and deserve. And we need to do what it takes to make sure this doesn’t happen to any child again. Employ appropriate boundaries for perpetrators. Pass laws, fund research, prevention, intervention, treatment and aftercare for victims and families, which means public and private bucks.
Itap more than about hierarchies and reporters. Itap about the children.
