Quiz Show: Surviving Disgrace

Here is my latest entry from cinekklesia.

One topic that consistently fascinates me is that of disgrace, especially as it relates to shame and scandal. Surviving disgrace, learning from disgrace, are oft-overlooked activities; we prefer instead to wallow in the misfortunes of the powerful and famous as they fall into webs of contradiction, embarrassment, and damage-control.

Witness Bill Clinton's "Monicagate" legacy. I loved it! I wanted more detail, more scandal; I was disappointed that the impeachment proceedings did not grind the US government to a halt as was feared originally. Lest we forget the bi-partisan nature of scandal, let's remember what happened to the Republican candidate from the 2004 Senatorial contest in Illinois: forced to withdraw after revelations regarding his visit(s) to a sex club.

Robert Redford's Quiz Show (1994) touches a bit on disgrace, among other themes. A surprisingly intelligent and aesthetically classy movie, Quiz Show is based on a true 1950s scandal that erupted when investigators discovered that a television game show was rigged. Ralph Fiennes plays Charles Van Doren, a lecturer at Columbia University's English department, who tries out for another game show on a lark and is later recruited for 21 (the corrupt show) by producers who realize his telegenic potential. Rob Morrow plays Dick Goodwin, the Congressional attorney who investigates the show (and who never fails to mention that he graduated first in his class from Harvard Law). John Turturro plays Herbie Stemple, a Jewish working stiff who once participated in the show's hijinks, but who now feels betrayed by the producers and who wants to blow the lid off the WASPs. Much of the film examines the battle of wits between—and the intellectual machismo of—these three men, defined almost solely by their smarts.

It becomes pretty clear in the middle of the film that Goodwin's investigation almost inevitably will lead to the downfall of both 21 and Van Doren. The latter struggles with maintaining his pose as an elite academic on the one hand and reveling in his celebrity status on the other. Deep-down, he knows that what he is doing is wrong, but he likes the attention and the money (his game show winnings fetch him a spacious townhouse in swank Greenwich Village). Unfortunately, one usually cannot have intellectual prowess, fame, and wealth in one lifetime, and Van Doren's fortunes begin to fade as Goodwin's investigation slowly but surely catches up with him.

I won't spoil the final scenes, but suffice it to say that Redford plays with our emotions. We feel bad for Van Doren; he had so much going for him, and he could have made a decent career (actually, a very good career) for himself if he just kept to his books. Then again, he knew he was in the wrong, so he actually deserves what he has coming to him, right? (As an aside, I have to wonder whether academics secretly wish ill upon their colleagues who leave the world of "serious" research in order to seek fame, fortune, and power in politics or popular media; some recent examples of academics-turned-celebrities include Benjamin Barber, Paul Krugman, and Condoleezza Rice.)

While Quiz Show sparked the theme of disgrace in my own mind, it unfortunately doesn't show us how Van Doren dealt with the emotional repercussion of scandal, shame, and losing the respect of millions. That's too bad. Too often, we witness a figure's downfall without the aftereffect, when the latter actually would prove more instructive. If we actually learn more from our mistakes than our successes, and if humility is a benchmark of the Christian life, then social disgrace—while certainly not a good thing—ultimately can prove edifying. If we are open to discipline and correction, then suffering humiliation can help us to recalibrate our priorities, to realize that superficial social esteem is not an appropriate end goal for the Christian.

A more concrete illustration: Several readers of cinekklesia will remember the case of a pastor who had to resign his position several years ago due to revelations of an extra-marital affair. At the time, a friend of mine was struck by the professional futility of it all: nearly three decades of ministry stained by sin. He seemed particularly struck by the effect of sin on the pastor's legacy. I respectfully must disagree with my friend's sentiments; the pastor's professional legacy is not nearly as important—and should not occupy so much emotional energy—as his relationship with God and with the church. In addition, while it obviously would have been better for all parties had the affair never happened, we should not forget the message of Romans 8:28 - God can turn even moments of shame, humiliation, and disgrace into opportunities for spiritual growth and maturity. People familiar with the case will remember that the church responded in a gracious, edifying manner that would serve as a model for others.

Thus, I highly recommend Quiz Show. In my own mind, Redford inadvertently sparked some philosophical and theological fires. Someone else can tackle the themes of temptation and rationalization!