Cabrini Fails on Purpose

W hy is that when some secular person says something positive about religion, people get interested? That “the secular case for God” sells better than the religious case for God says something about our impoverished culture.

When Saint Augustine is quoted saying, “Our hearts are restless till they find rest in” God — yawn. But when Joe Rogan says, “There’s a part in the brain that wants that thing [religion]” — how interesting! When Pope Paul VI prophesied that the sexual revolution would cause untold misery, especially for women and children — boring. But when an eloquent, estranged feminist makes a very similar argument, it’s daring and new.

Presumably, to tap into this potential for wider audiences, some religious thinkers and artists have tried to downplay or disguise their religiosity. Enter Angel Studios’ new biopic, Cabrini, about the life of Mother Cabrini, the first American saint and the patron saint of immigrants, directed by Alejandro Gomez Monteverde (who tries to keep his Catholic faith “as private as possible”), with the screenplay by Rod Barr.

Barr explains that they wanted to “capture the essence of Cabrini” but also to make a movie “about an amazing woman who happened to be a nun.” Unfortunately, these objectives are contradictory.

Here is Mother Cabrini, in her own words:

I appeal in a special way to the zeal of the many Christian women who love Jesus, to stir into action the sacred flame burning within them, moving them with compassion for our many poor, abandoned brothers who also have been redeemed by the Precious Blood of Jesus. May each one of you join our ranks to seek a good number of souls to present to the Sacred Heart of Jesus.

Does that sound like a woman who “just happened to be a nun,” whose Catholic faith was incidental to her being a major Girl Boss?

In one scene, Mother Cabrini (Cristiana Dell’Anna) prepares her sisters who are accompanying her to New York, saying: “Without men, we will be expected to fail. More than ever, we must trust in ourselves. And in the purpose of our mission.” Here’s what the real Mother Cabrini said to her sisters on September 13, 1894, when she set sail from Genoa, Italy, to New York: “Bear in mind that whoever distrusts herself and trusts in God has nothing to fear because, stripped of self, she has become strong with the strength of God. With humility and trust, she defies every hardship.”

Dell’Anna, meanwhile, insists on an interpretation of Mother Cabrini that would have been horrifying to the saint. On her Instagram, the actress wrote that “to believe that Cabrini was a mere vehicle of God’s will is to limit and to twist that very idea of a woman’s empowerment, stripping it away from her and putting it into someone else’s hands, however holy they might be.” She continues, “‘Women’s empowerment’ means that all the power springs from us, the women; that we are our very own makers and have complete control over ourselves: our bodies, our minds, our lives.”

Hmm. Here, again, is the real Mother Cabrini, writing to her sisters in November 1898, while traveling from Liverpool to New York:

Oh daughters, be very watchful in guarding holy and precious humility! If our hearts are not humble, all the pious exercises prescribed by our Institute will avail us nothing. . . . You cannot live without Jesus. He is for you a blessed need. Your soul longs for her Creator; her center, beginning, and only Beloved. Then do away with the impediment produced by too little humility and nothing will hinder you.

Or take the scene with the reformed prostitute, Vittoria (Romana Maggiora Vergano), who says to Mother Cabrini: “There’s not enough water in the world to make me clean.” Any competent nun would, at such prompting, discuss the cleansing of sins through the waters of baptism and the sacramental graces of confession which restores the soul to its baptismal purity. But Monteverde’s Cabrini says this instead: “When I look at you, do you know what I see? A strong woman,” adding: “It takes a lot of courage to become who we’re meant to be,” as well as something about God giving us “the freedom to choose” to rise above our circumstances.

Despite this obvious and fundamental flaw in the film’s vision and script, I enjoyed Cabrini. It was beautifully shot, the performances were strong — especially John Lithgow as the dastardly Mayor Gould — the story was compelling, and the music was lovely.

Admittedly, my initial impression of the film was improved in that every time Barr’s Cabrini said something underwhelming or, frankly, silly — in my head I translated an appropriate substitute from the real saint. The experience was like listening to someone singing a familiar song very tunefully, but while getting every other word wrong. Still pleasant, at times even moving, but the meaning was lost. What’s unfortunate is that, to most audience members, the real Mother Cabrini is likely not so familiar. Monteverde’s Cabrini is, at best, incomplete.

At one point, Pope Leo XIII (Giancarlo Giannini) says to Mother Cabrini, “I can’t tell where your faith ends, and your ambition begins.” Neither can the audience, and that, of course, was the filmmakers’ intention. But the same cannot be said of the real Mother Cabrini. Ironically for a movie about “women’s empowerment,” the filmmakers lacked the confidence to let this great saint speak for herself.