Cabrini: Feminist Propaganda or Feminine Genius?
A review of the Angel Studios movie about the life of St. Frances Xavier Cabrini
I was raised into secular feminist activism and eagerly stepped into the label, zealously repeating the anthems of the movement and embracing its heroes. I adored the moderns like Sanger, Steinem, and Daly, as well as generations of women who beat an angry drum against the Church, patriarchy, injustice, inequality, and moral boundaries. I was fed up, righteous, and perpetually ready for battle...
I am woman. Here me roar!
The pounding message of the feminist movement impacted the way I saw all people. It placed my own sense of offense and self-preservation at the center of my universe, interfering with my acceptance of the fatherhood of God and my own femininity. My feminism wasn’t just a political identity or label by which to say “I care about women and oppose injustice.” It was a disordered spiritual and political movement against the goodness and order of God. (The rest of that story is HERE.)
When I embraced the Catholic faith, I stepped away from the feminist label for good even though I retained my voice against true injustice. The Gospel was sufficient. I fell in love with my sisters, the saints, and sat at their feet, hoping to learn how to be tenderly and obediently feminine while also having the courage of a lioness … or a martyr.
In spite of this affinity for my feminine forebears in faith, I had no initial inclination to see Cabrini, the new film from Angel Studios based on the life of Saint Francis Xavier Cabrini, the first American saint. The lives of the saints told through film are often odd, macabre, tedious, or motivated by an ideology beyond the Gospel. Though Catholicism is arguably the greatest defender of beauty in art, modern film may be the striking exception.
It’s about Cabrini, is it? I thought. Well, it may be either cringe worthy kitsch or depressing and weird. If we learned anything from the recent disastrous attempt to show the life of Padre Pio through mainstream cinema, it is perhaps that cinematic depictions of saints should rarely, if ever, be tried.
Traditional Catholics were among the first to enthusiastically promote Cabrini. That was quickly followed by accusations from some that director Alejandro Monteverde’s version is a feminist distortion of the saint; a pinch of incense to the feminist deities of Hollywood. Confounded by the strikingly opposite claims among faithful Catholics, I watched the film myself, hoping to square the contradiction.
If current events in the world have taught us anything, it is that secular feminism abandons women at all critical points and does not see dignity in womanhood, only personal power. If there ever was any value in feminism as a movement, it seems now to be simply another form of oppression of what is most powerfully feminine.
I didn’t see that in Cabrini. On the contrary, I saw one artist's angle on the life of a woman who knew her dignity and the dignity of others, and who poured out her life (literally unto death) in service of God’s people.
Feminists have a long history of lying about great heroines of the Church. When I was immersed in feminist spirituality, I chanted to pagan goddesses while also honoring saints like Hildegard of Bingen as early mystics of pagan feminism. She wasn’t, but they rewrote her story to portray a defiant sorceress stuck in the shackles of her time, oppressed by the Church. An honest reading of her work reveals instead that she was a holy fire of orthodoxy and obedience.
So the central questions I mean to answer here are:
Does Montverde’s film lie about Francesca Cabrini?
Does it portray her as a feminist or, as some pejoratively accuse, a modern “girl boss?”
No, I don’t see that it does. She is depicted as fervent in belief, wholly obedient, morally upright, rightly ordered in her femininity, and displaying in exemplary ways those qualities most honoring of womanly dignity. In the film, she was shown to be a firebrand, as she no doubt was, but at no point did I see unholy defiance against Christ or His Church. Her defiance was against corruption and oriented toward obedience to Christ for His little ones, not away from orthodoxy.
Priests and bishops were depicted negatively at times but only in their humanity and not as a strike against Christ’s Church on earth. No “down with the patriarchy” message is found. Feminists will be disappointed. Do particular clerics express weakness? Certainly, but so does Cabrini. The greatness of this diminutive woman is not dependent on her perfection, and that is good news for us all.
The story provides much food for thought about the tension between the authority of a woman in her realm and a man in his. The woman acts in obedience to the immediate need of souls in her care; a man to his obligation to his entire flock. Sometimes those priorities clash. In Cabrini, each was committed to duty, vision, and obedience, and the interplay is far more complex than a simple a feminist trope. Much of the “war of the sexes” can be distilled down to the challenge of integrating the beautiful design of male and female genius and duty. In the end, they collaborate effectively, if not easily, and the power of that union through history is breathtakingly vast.
It was the feminine genius of Mother Cabrini that she was not only a prophetic figure in the slums, chancery, and political offices of New York, but also a striking example of the greatness of God’s design for womanhood. She was in a position of weakness as a woman. Her dress, poverty, stature, social standing, ethnicity, and illness were all burdens which would have halted the efforts of most humans in her situation. Yet, compelled by the Spirit—as all the saints have done before and since—she persevered.
Does director Monteverde succeed in portraying Francesca Cabrini fully alive in her faith and womanly identity? He gets close enough so that Catholics ought to celebrate, and he does it in the context of a visually stunning film.
Cabrini came alive to me as a person of depth, breathed from the heart of the Father, instead of as an inartful mass produced holy card. I am grateful. I was moved by the portrayal of her passion for the vulnerable for which I am also made. Her firmness was tempered by feminine tenderness which is so lacking in the harshness of modernity.
Where the film falls short with her person is in neglecting to weave in the prayerful dimension of her character. It was prayer which kept her rooted in intimacy with Christ, who was the source of her passion for His little ones. She wrote:
Prayer is powerful! It fills the earth with mercy, it makes the Divine clemency pass from generation to generation; right along the course of the centuries wonderful works have been achieved through prayer.
Though we assume that she was praying while pictured in chapel, and we know that prayer is a feature of religious vocation, the pictures seems incomplete without a stronger reference to this facet of her beauty. On the other hand, I doubt that a Catholic homeschooling mom is the target market for the message of this film, though perhaps my young feminist self would be! A heavily religious movie about any saint would not sell well to broad audiences. Knowing this, I was able to appreciate it for what it is:
A snapshot.
A “based on the true story of…”
Not my angle.
Monteverde's angle.
The casting is excellent and the dialogue is satisfying in its simplicity. Though it can be fairly stated that there was not much explicit expression of faith (outside of pervasive religious imagery and in the visual testimony of Cabrini herself), in this case, less may be more. The visual framework respects the intelligence of the audience by not giving a tedious catechism lesson. It seems instead to be an artist’s portrait of lived sanctity; and importantly, what that looks like in the stench and dirt of a suffering and sinful world.
The film’s trailers revealed a dark aesthetic and I wondered if it would have a depressive quality. But no, it is beautiful, and the light shines through in the right places with color and hope and brilliant angles of sanctity. A friend of mine described the setting as like Caravaggio, and I see what she means.
I would have liked to see greater character development but also don’t have the patience for a longer movie, so I was content to sit with a type of Visio Divina for pondering and prayer. Jesus, make me more like Mother Cabrini… more like You. Give me Your heart for Your little ones.
Is there dialogue that I would change? Yes, there were several instances, for example, where I longed to hear the name of Jesus in response to open questions of mercy and identity. But again, it’s not my tapestry to weave and I was content to prayerfully consider the threads presented to me.
It seems at times that the film wants to preach of worldly things, but it stops short. At other times like it wants to preach of the faith, but it stops short. It loses something in a middle space, tiptoeing almost too carefully through an audience of competing ideologies…
Yet it also (incredibly) manages to powerfully communicate a dominant feature of the womanly vocation, which is to defend and care for the vulnerable. I felt the movement of the Spirit in my own conscience and a call to be better than I have been. Tears fell several times in response to the suffering of the broken, and that is as it should be.
If I had the ability to snap my fingers and change only one thing, it would be the closing words of Mother Cabrini when she says “Men can never do what we do,” which certainly seems to reflect a theme of cultural feminism. It was an abrupt departure from a film that otherwise didn’t squawk or preach; like turning a harsh overhead light on too soon after a tender movie in a dark room.
Yet I have to ask…
What is it exactly that the sisters have done?
And could men have done it?
A fuller contemplation of that final line leads not to feminism but away from it. What exactly was it that these sisters did that changed the lives of so many… and why does it look nothing at all like the world and the glittering false promises of feminism?
Through the graces of their uniquely feminine religious vocation, the sisters gave up everything in service to the vulnerable and suffering, with no guarantee of success, out of obedience to Christ. They called sinners out of darkness. They were subject to harsh conditions and cruelty. They showed women and girls their dignity. They cared for children. They provided safe homes and respite. They tended the sick and washed the abandoned. And they called men to their masculine greatness.
That’s not feminism. That’s Catholicism. Blessed be God.
A note to parents:
Cabrini is rated PG-13 and is not, in my opinion, appropriate for young children. Because her work was in the slums of the city, the film depicts suffering, death, violence, prostitution, and other complexities of a sinful world. Though there is nothing inappropriate or gratuitous, Catholic parents should not bring their kiddos thinking that it will be a sweetly triumphant and sanitized version of the life of a saint.
It can be a great opportunity to discuss life and faith with teenagers who have to navigate contrary input of the world. While cultural messages can distort understanding of social justice, immigration, authority, hierarchy, human dignity, anger, defiance, religion, and themes touched on in the movie, we have the opportunity to share the full Gospel with our young people through good conversation.
All images from Angel Studios.
All content on The Wild Return is free to you. If you value what I share, please consider upgrading to a paid subscription or donation. And feel free to explore a few of my favorite things. Thank you!
It is providential irony that “Cabrini” was released on International Women’s Day, due to the unexpected success of “Sound of Freedom,” which pushed it from its original scheduled release in November.
It is also noteworthy in following a year with a string of disastrous big studio failures which astute reviewers attribute to the beaten-to-death trope of “strong female character” flops—“The Marvels”, “She Hulk”, “Echo” and “Madame Web” to name only a few.
These movies featured female leads which were supposed to create more superhero and sci-fi fans among women, as well as enlighten the male troglodytes who are the primary fans for such pictures. Except for providing some wish-fulfillment fantasies for the new breed of woke writers who produced this drivel, these movies served to alienate the male audience. Nor did they attract any female audiences, who don’t have a desire to see a female character with all the traits which would be labeled “toxic masculinity” if the characters were male.
In Cabrini we are introduced to what a strong female character actually is: a frail little woman who awakens from a night of coughing and wheezing, puts on her habit, which the lovely former prostitute in a later scene describes as Cabrini’s “suit of armor”, and readies herself to face the crosses of the day.
A beautiful, timely gem of a picture.
I liked Cabrini’s reply of “Men can never do what we do” because it was in response to the mayor telling her she should’ve been a man. Obviously, this didn’t necessarily happen. However, I like that response because I think it is in reference to a women’s nature that tends to be more sensitive to the vulnerable. Not to be mean, but men appear to be less concerned with sharing their resources with those outside their families as often as women are. I would suspect many men are generally motivated to do so mostly by their wives. So truthfully, what Cabrini did was the work of a woman’s heart that the Lord gave her and gives to all women. This is not a criticism to men, women and men are wired differently and naturally each will be good at achieving different (sometimes the same) things in different ways.