We're on a McCourt kick

Atticus and I recently watched Angela's Ashes on DVD, and found the author's commentary quite interesting. Frank McCourt was amazed at how realistic the settings were and at how powerfully they evoked his own memories and the mood, look and feel of his childhood.

It is, of course, an extremely sad movie to watch, as the poverty level at which he lived was unbelievable. For example, the family is living in an apartment, the first floor of which is constantly flooded with several inches of water, so they live only in the two rooms upstairs. The boys are shown running into the apartment, splashing through the water in a kid-like, matter-of-fact way (hey, this is just our life, they seem to be saying.) In the commentary, McCourt says, "People ask me, 'Why didn't you just do something about that? Why didn't your parents put down a plank or something to walk across?' and he scoffs at the very idea, with a rejoinder along the lines of, "A plank? If we had a plank, we'd have burned it, because we had to burn everything we could get our hands on to keep warm. We didn't have the luxury of a plank."

The luxury of a plank.

In another scene, the boys are knocking down the wall of the apartment and throwing the pieces into the fire -- again, desperate to keep the fire going and to keep warm.

The movie is full of heartbreak: the constant hunger, the loss (three of Angela's children die, and the narrator says of one of them, something like "We loved him, we played with him ... he died anyway.") Angela falls apart, is abandoned by her alcoholic husband, and then does what she can to keep the rest of the family alive. It is simply heart-wrenching.

Another video we just watched, The McCourts of Limerick, is a short documentary by Conor McCourt, son of Frank's brother, Malachy. It is a video memoir, filled with reminiscing by the four brothers: Frank, Malachy, Michael and Alphie, all of whom live in America.

What really stood out for me in this little film was that the marks left by abandonment never go away. Malachy McCourt, Sr. walked away from his family because he could not stop drinking. Frank and Malachy each have moments in this film in which they can not stifle the tears as they talk about their father, and one is struck by the utter necessity of a father in a child's life, the core importance of the role, the man, and the love that he should, by all ideals, offer. Lacking a perfect relationship, presence, at the very least, is vital. But Malachy Sr. could not even offer that. He just left. And the wound he inflicted is still evident on his "boys" ... grown men of retirement age. It's heartbreaking.

Another thing that struck and saddened me, in both the film and the documentary, is how let down they all felt by the Church. There are some of the usual suspects for a film like this, a bit of Catholic-bashing in terms of the stern lectures on purity and the like (and there are several scenes which many will find extremely offensive, so please be forewarned.) I wanted to cry out to the screen (because I know how bitter it all left McCourt toward the Catholic Church), "It's those individuals, not the entire Church that failed you!" Because it's true that they were failed in many ways by many people in their society, some of whom were clerics. And I want them to know that "the Church" at her core, does not advocate the treatment Frank McCourt received, the feeling (left even by some of the priests he encountered) that he was sub-human because he was "a laner" (the term used disparagingly by the people of Limerick to refer to those who lived in poverty in "the lane.") And yet, in the Angela's Ashes, there is also a lovely scene in which Frank, feeling that all hope is lost, is sitting in prayer before a statue of St. Francis, and a priest sits down to talk to him. Initially, Frank is reluctant to talk or to make a confession -- I think he felt he was already too far gone. But the kind priest coaxes a little conversation out of him, and before he knows it, Frank has made a complete, heart-wrenching, good confession and is absolved. The lightness he feels when he leaves is perfectly done, a perfect illustration of the beauty and cleansing of that sacrament.

I just saw at Amazon that there's a follow-up to The McCourts of Limerick called The McCourts of New York. Atticus and I will have to hunt that one down to complete our McCourt kick.