Throwing Stones at a Sinner
"Does The Widow of St. Pierre depict Christlike mercy or an abhorrent offense to justice? Plus: Spy Kids makes the theater safe for the whole family, and critics respond to The Tailor of Panama, Someone Like You, Tomcats, and Series 7."
Jeffrey Overstreet | posted 4/01/2001 12:00AM

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In spite of the victory of marriage over temptation, Ted Baehr of Movieguide is incensed at the relationship between Madame La and the criminal. Baehr describes her behavior towards Auguste as "the ultimate romantic fantasy and an absurd refutation of marriage, dignity, authority, and the other principles of civilization." And his accusations reach further. "The only moral moments in the movie are at the end," he says, referring to the bloody consequences carried out upon on the condemned man and those who forgive him. "The good news is that justice prevails," he concludes, "although viewers are led to believe that those in authority and the executioners are the villains." He calls this story's message "depressing and unbiblical."
But it is precisely the vivid illustration of Christlike love that makes The Widow of St. Pierre such a moving and powerful story. Auguste's plight echoes that of the biblical woman caught in adultery. Like Auguste, the adulteress had broken the law. Like Auguste, she was to be executed by those who scorned her. Besides sending this man to his death, the lawmakers of St. Pierre commit an act of violence far more premeditated than Auguste's clumsy mistake—they conspire out of pride to have Le Captaine himself accused of sedition so he too will be given a death sentence. When no one in town will agree to act as executioner, they take advantage of an immigrant's poverty and coerce him to take the job or be exiled. They are just the sort of villains that Jesus vocally and bitterly criticized: whitewashed tombs.
Jesus got between the stone-throwing and the sinner, and he pointed the finger back at the accusers. He saw in them the same hypocrisy, self-righteousness, and hard-heartedness that resides in the hearts of St. Pierre's administrators. He asked them to face their own sinfulness. And then he excused the adulteress and sent her on her way with an exhortation to "sin no more." After all, we too are sinners, deserving capital punishment like Auguste, but offered salvation freely, by grace. Like Auguste, we have the opportunity to be born again.
Madame La in desperation tries to save Auguste behind the back of the law. But Auguste himself and Le Captaine respect the law in spite of its merciless executors. In spite of their different ways of following their consciences, Le Captaine and his wife stand united in their bold and risky belief that Auguste should pay his debts differently. They are devoted, enthusiastically and ebulliently, to each other and to love. Theirs is the most admirable and resilient onscreen marriage since Liam Neeson and Jessica Lange roamed the Highlands in Rob Roy. While Movieguide's Baehr calls this "abhorrent … romantic tripe," others—including me—are convinced that The Widow of St. Pierre will remain one of 2001's most lasting and memorable films precisely because it delivers a painfully beautiful illustration of the gospel.