Brian Moore grew up in Northern Ireland and considered joining the priesthood before he moved to Canada and abandoned his Catholic religion later in life. I've not read this nor any of his other novels, but I am told that on several occasions he explored the idea of a priest losing his faith, and I wonder if perhaps, in spite of his outward angst against the Irish clergy, he wasn't in fact (like so many ex-Christian writers) struggling to cast of his guilt and to justify abandoning his own vocation.<br /><br />In "Black Robe," for which Moore wrote the script as well as the book, he has chosen not to inject overtly anti-clerical themes. Perhaps he preferred to let the times speak for themselves: the French clergy in North America did most certainly believe in their mission to convert the Natives to Christianity, and no one believed in any sort of philosophical or cultural relativism. To the modern, deracinated and denatured man, this is offensive in and of itself and there would be no need to add the demonising of clerics so ubiquitous to contemporary cinema.<br /><br />But to those who dare question the modern liberal conscience, this film is done accurately enough to sympathise with and appreciate the Jesuit's mission. The French are portrayed as sympathetic but imperfect: the clerics are naïve and occasionally condescending in their dealings with the Natives, but as we watch their efforts unfold Moore, whether he meant to or not, shows that they truly wanted and tried to understand and relate to these poor souls they ministered to.<br /><br />And to pray for the salvation of these "poor, savage souls" was hardly condescending, and not only from a Catholic standpoint. For the Natives, life was short, violent and fearsome; death was always around the corner. Their religious beliefs were tightly wound with their daily routine and way of life (as they are in all pre-"Enlightened" societies, including those of Europe and European North America) and with life so tenebrous they feared anything innovative would completely destroy them. "We have accepted the gifts of the French, and we have come to depend on them. That will be the end of us." This is evident in Chomina's gradual coming to grips with Christianity and with the Abbé Laforgue (known to the Natives as "Black Robe"), but his unwillingness to let go and accept Baptism even on his deathbed. The Huron sense that the transformative power of the Baptismal water is so profound that they will "cease to be Huron," that their enemies, the Iroquois, will sense their weakness and destroy them.<br /><br />And yet, Moore has so successfully replicated the brutish world of the Native American that the viewer who can overcome modern Political Correctness will indeed find himself wishing not for their destruction but that they and their enemies could, in one sense, cease to be Huron, cease to be Iroquois, for their own sake and for each other's, before it is too late! And they, too, understand this: as Abbé Laforgue reminds his young companion, "These people are gifted with intelligence." It is significant that Abbé Laforgue himself is perceptive enough to realise that fact, even though their intelligence is one that he can never understand. The movie ends on an apparently hopeful note and then reveals--through text--something utterly depressing about the near future, reflecting perhaps Moore's reluctance to show a happy triumphant Christian ending. But Moore neglects to tell us the complete story or to allow us to see hints of the ultimate triumph.<br /><br />Romanticists will be sorely disappointed by "Black Robe," demolishing as it does that nice little myth of the Noble Savage, which has never amounted to anything more than a childish fairy tale. Leftists, too, many not appreciate it, for though it depicts the characters from their own and from each other's perspectives, the reality is that pre-colonial Native American culture was often excruciatingly cruel: as Chomina himself confesses, he is as selfish and sinful as any white man. There is neither postmodern white guilt complex here, nor the crass Cowboy and Indian games of old Westerners. In fact, there is very little in this film with which to sympathise from the standpoint of the modern "Enlightened" liberal conscience, and thank God for that! At last we have a movie about real human beings defined by their own time. The cinematography, moreover, is stunning: one truly feels the profoundity of the loneliness in the vast empty continent of North America. One complaint, though: if Moore went to this much trouble to portray the Natives speaking their own languages and Abbé Laforgue praying in Latin, couldn't the French have spoken to each other in FRENCH and not English??