Featuring a sterling British cast and one of the
most unusual sleuths in the history of detective fiction, Father Brown premiered this
month in the U.K.
For many mystery fans, it was a chance to see, on
something other than the printed page, the adventures of the owlish, unassuming
Roman Catholic prelate created by G.K. Chesterton. For the movie’s star, Alec Guinness, the role represented far more: the catalyst for his conversion to
Roman Catholicism.
In childhood, the Father Brown stories became my
avenue into the marvelously versatile Chesterton, who tried his literary
talents not only in detective fiction but also the novel, poetry, essays,
biographies, and Christian apologetic literature. Though not a Catholic when he
invented his clerical sleuth, the author became one halfway through producing
these 53 stories, in 1922. Something of the same conversion process took place
with Guinness.
Seeing the 1949 black comedy Kind Hearts and Coronets a couple of weeks ago reminded me of
Guinness’ amazing versatility and ability to disappear completely into a role.
(In this case, eight: the number of eight heirs—including one woman—to an
aristocrat’s fortune, all of whom fell victim to a poor relation.)
The
Bridge on the River Kwai won Guinness his Oscar and Star Wars brought him last financial
security. But Father Brown (retitled The Detective for its American release) brought the actor something
else entirely: a different path in his spiritual life.
Like another inveterate actor-diarist, Richard
Burton, Guinness was tormented by self-loathing. The Welshman considered acting
a misuse of his talents, but Guinness struggled with a variety of issues.
The full extent of Guinness’ malaise did not become
generally known to the public until after his death in 2000: catty comments
confided to his diary over fellow actors; shame over his illegitimacy; anger
toward his alcoholic, thieving mother; a difficult relationship with his wife
and son; and questions about his sexual orientation.
In the case of the latter, nobody has ever come
forward to claim a homosexual relationship. But several aspects of his life
suggest inclinations that others detected or that he himself wrote about,
including:
*his father-in-law’s joking nickname for him, that
of a gay male ballet dancer;
*diary references to other males making passes at
him, or to attractive young men;
*visits to Turkish baths;
*stopping sleeping with his wife after age 40;
*visible discomfort with romantic scenes he had to
play.
If Guinness was gay, he did not have to look far to
see what it might cost him. Guy Burgess and Donald Maclean’s involvement in the
Cambridge spy ring of the early 1950s fed suspicions that homosexuals in the
intelligence service and armed forces represented inherent security threats. Just
the day before the premiere of Father Brown, Alan Turing—the
mathematician who cracked the Nazis “Enigma” code during WWII—allegedly committed
suicide after accepting chemical castration in lieu of prison for violating
laws against “gross indecency.” Guinness’ contemporary among London’s elite
actors, John Gielgud, had been arrested just the year before in a public
restroom in Chelsea for “'persistently importuning men for immoral purposes.”
In a 2003 interview with the UK paper The Daily Telegraph, Guinness’ friend and biographer, novelist Piers Paul
Read, explained that by the early 1950s, the actor "was suffering from
tremendous bouts of depression, because of his homosexuality and the
contradiction between that and his love of [his wife] Merula and his family,
and looking for a faith that would give him something to hold it all together.”
Guinness had returned to the Anglican faith of his
childhood during World War II, but now he began edging closer toward
Catholicism. When his son had been stricken with polio at age 11, Guinness
began stopping in a nearby Catholic church to pray for his recovery (which did,
in fact, come to pass).
Then, another incident, during the filming of Father
Brown, drew him even closer to the Church. A young boy, finding him still
in costume for his role, took his hand and accompanied the “priest” off the
set.
The youngster made a profound impression on the
actor. "Continuing my walk," he later noted, "I reflected that a
Church that could inspire such confidence in a child, making priests, even when
unknown, so easily approachable, could not be as scheming or as creepy as so
often made out. I began to shake off my long-taught, long-absorbed
prejudices."
Guinness formally entered the Church two years
later. Becoming a Catholic did not make his securities or anxieties disappear.
But like another English convert, Evelyn Waugh, he saw the Church as a bulwark
against moral relativism and looked askance at a number of post-Vatican II
changes.
On the 40th anniversary of his entrance
into the Church, Guinness wrote in his diary: “I rejoice in that and wish it
had come decades earlier.”
A year or two ago, while channel-surfing, I came
across the current BBC version of Father
Brown. Despite its notching seven seasons on the air, I could not mount the
kind of enthusiasm for it that I did for the Guinness film. The plot was pedestrian
and the directors could not match the smooth handling demonstrated by Hamer,
who was working yet again with Guinness and co-star Greenwood (and, playing the
thief that the priest rescues from crime and sin, Peter Finch).
