Mary KennyThe event is a warming collective human experience
The most uplifting image that I’ve seen from the World Cup football tournament did not involve any of the great football stars – even the enchanting Mr Ronaldo. It was a photograph taken in an Indian village in which a group of people, evidently quite poor, but smiling broadly, gathered around a single television set which was broadcasting one of the games.
This was a picture of harmless human pleasure and entertainment, enjoyed within the context of a community. With all the distressing events that are occurring all over the world, and most particularly the agony of what is occurring in Iraq, how inspiring to see that a mere ballgame can bring out the sunny side of life.
On the actual sports side, I am indifferent to the outcome of any of these matches. Whether Irish people cheered for Italy in the game against England, or secretly hoped that England might win through – it didn’t – is, for me, of no consequence whatsoever. Whether Cameroon was unfairly disallowed a goal by the Mexican referee in the challenge against Colombia, is, I’m afraid, a trifle. As between Ghana and the United States, frankly, my dear, I don’t give a fig.
It’s not the ‘beautiful game’ that I find affecting. It’s the benign patriotism within a context of cordial internationalism. It’s the way in which men and women get together and cheer on their team, emerging from the atomised individualism of so much of everyday life to share an experience as part of a fellowship.
The World Cup is a cheerful and warming collective human experience. I know nothing of the sporting element, except, by the way, that Argentina is fancied, by some, to emerge the ultimate victors. May the winners bring joy and enjoyment: and yet remember that ultimately, it’s not losing or winning that counts, but playing the game.
Fur will fly
Dr Penelope Leach (pictured) was the baby and child expert most revered in the 1970s and 80s, and indeed thereafter. She was a reliable authority on practical matters, and became an established ëguruí on the question of raising a young child.
A few years ago, however, Dr Leach raised hackles by suggesting that crËches and nurseries were not the best option for young babies. Better that young children should be at home with their mothers ñ or at least one, continuous carer ñ during the early years. As working mothers consider state-provided childcare an absolute necessity, she was censured for this suggestion.
And now Dr Leach, aged 76, is causing more controversy by claiming that when parents split up, small children should not divide their time between their father and mother. Pre-school children should stay with their mothers: having 'disruptive' sleepovers at their dadís place harms brain development, which depends on continual attachment to their main carer, usually the mother.
Arrangements made by divorcing and separating parents, writes Dr Leach, too often focus on what suits the adults, rather than what is best for the child.
Fur will fly over this controversy. But eventually, the child experts will arrive at the logical conclusion of their prognostications: if humanly possible, it is much better if parents do not separate or divorce at all.
A positive clerical portrayal in film
Iíve had cause to note that most film portrayals of Irish Catholic priests today project the image of a mean-spirited, even callous, bigot. The exception is Brendan Gleeson in Calvary: but even as the good priest, Fr James, he is doomed to take the penalty for a bad priest.
But now comes a movie portrayal of the old-fashioned kindly father-confessor to whom a person could turn for advice, support and spiritual fortitude. Itís the American actor Frank Langella, playing Princess Graceís confidant, Fr Francis, in the movie Grace of Monaco.
Langella, an accomplished actor, does a nice job. Unfortunately, the reviews of the movie itself have been stinkers. One critic said that Nicole Kidmanís performance as the former Grace Kelly was ìso wooden itís a fire hazardî.
Itís a pity because there is a true, interesting story within the film. France really did squeeze Monaco during the 1950s. Its reputation ñ in the phrase coined by Somerset Maugham ñ as ìa sunny place for shady peopleî prompted the French state to seek to amalgamate it into France, absorbing the tax revenues that Monaco might yield.
But Grace really did bring a lustre and dignity to the principality that changed the brand and the image. France also came to realise the advantages of having a proxy monarchy on its southern flank, and the Monagasque royals came to adorn the glossy Parisian magazines on a weekly basis.
The story is not well told, and the direction is awfully sloppy. But the locations are fabulous, the frocks great, and Fr Francis emerges with flying colours.
