Virtue and Vice in Popular Film

Joseph H. Kupfer

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2021
• ISBN:
  9781000413427
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Philosophy
• Subtopic: Ethics & Moral Philosophy

This book addresses a prominent group of virtues and vices as portrayed in popular films to further our understanding of these moral character traits. The discussions emphasize the interplay between the philosophical conception of the virtues and vices and the cinematic representations of character.

Joseph H. Kupfer explores how fictional characters possessing certain moral strengths and weaknesses concretize our abstract understanding of them. Because the actions that flow from these traits occur in cinematic contexts mirroring real world conditions, the narrative portrayals of these moral characteristics can further our appreciation of their import. Humility, integrity, and perseverance, for example, are depicted in Chariots of Fire, The Fabulous Baker Boys, and Billy Elliot, while the vices of envy, arrogance and vanity are captured in Amadeus, Whiplash, and Young Adult.

This interdisciplinary work in philosophy and film criticism will be of great interest to scholars and students of film studies, philosophy of film, ethics, aesthetics, and popular culture.

1 Taking humility in stride in Chariots of Fire

Two great runners

As the legendary sprinter, Harold Abrahams (Ben Cross), is lauded at his memorial service, Hugh Hudson’s Chariots of Fire (1981) fades in a flashback to the emblematic scene of Britain’s Olympic hopefuls running along the sea. Accompanied by the triumphant strains of the film’s swelling musical anthem, this heroic segment seems an unlikely prelude to a sustained exploration of so quiet a virtue as humility.¹ In its exploration, the film thoughtfully addresses the question of whether humility is compatible with outstanding achievement, including awareness of one’s superiority.

Outshining one’s competitors appears to be a force for high self-regard, but if humility entailed ignorance of one’s ability or self-deception it would be suspect as a genuine virtue. In its characterization of the Scottish runner, Eric Liddell (Ian Charleson), the film illustrates how an individual can be realistic in assessing his considerable achievements and remain humble. It also shows how humility promotes other virtues and inhibits vice. By deepening our understanding of virtue, moreover, the film also demonstrates the general way in which narrative can expand philosophical reflection on moral matters.

Liddell is introduced immediately after we watch Harold Abrahams’ successful challenge for the “college dash” – completing a sprint around the perimeter of the Caius courtyard at Oxford within twelve seconds. Abrahams is the first man to accomplish the feat in 700 years. The two finest British runners are thereby cinematically joined, and much can be said both ethically and aesthetically in comparing the pair. I will confine considerations of Abrahams, however, to his significance for humility and Liddell’s character (rather than, say, to examine arrogance, dedication, or anti-Semitism).

In marked contrast to Abrahams’s cocky challenge of the college dash, Liddell must be cajoled into running shortly after his stint of officiating at a footrace for young boys. As Liddell runs, we are introduced to what will be identifiable as his musical motif: a sweet slow trumpet, joined by a welling passage on electronic keyboard. Liddell’s arms flail and his mouth opens – our first glimpse of his ungainly yet captivating style. It will come to symbolize the ecstasy Liddell experiences in running, an ecstasy that is athletic, aesthetic, and religious all at once.

Having gradually linked Liddell and Abrahams by juxtaposing episodes in which they are featured, the film brings them together in the scene in which Abrahams watches Liddell run an incredible race in a competition between Scotland and France. After being shoved to the ground in an unsportsmanlike act by a French runner, Liddell gets up, makes up the seemingly insurmountable lead, and nearly kills himself in overtaking the field. Again we hear Liddell’s theme, briefly and poignantly, as Liddell’s flapping arms and gaping mouth now are accompanied by his signature tilting back of his head. He faces heavenward, as if deriving his strength and willpower directly from a God above.

Abrahams seems to epitomize the reaction of the audience, of the race and the film, in his riveted attention to Liddell’s valiant run. Our awe at Liddell’s surpassing effort is mirrored in Abrahams’s astonished gaze. The film thereby elevates the character of Liddell as the object of observation by the film’s other protagonist and not solely by the audience of the film. As with the film’s audience, Abrahams sees something more than an outstanding runner when he watches the flying Scotsman. Liddell’s running reveals his character, and the humility of that character determines both Liddell’s decision not to run on the Sabbath and how he deals with great achievement when he does compete.

The moral perspective of humility

Norvin Richards argues that humility is a virtue because its avoidance of self-inflation does not entail a false, denigrated view of oneself. The individual is able to “resist temptations to overestimate oneself and one’s accomplishments” by comparing his accomplishments to those of more outstanding people (1988: 255). No matter how good my philosophical writing, it does not compare to Aristotle’s, and no matter how good your golfing, it is not Arnold Palmer’s. Of course, we can then ask whether Aristotle or Palmer could know how good he really is and still be humble.

As a paradigm of humility, the various facets of Eric Liddell’s nature and his interactions with other people suggest a more complex moral response to this question about humility and self-knowledge than that offered by Richards.² Liddell wins an Olympic medal in track and his depiction in the film is of someone whose humility is not even ruffled by the winds of success, let alone strained by them. According to Richards, Liddell can remain humble by keeping in mind the superior performances of other runners, past and contemporary. But such comparison is narrow and limited. It does not seem to fully capture how humble people keep a level head about their achievements, and the character of Liddell in the film shows us why. Let us call this the technical or achievement consideration – comparing our performance in some particular area of skill or ability to the accomplishments of other people. My suggestion is that this non-moral weighing is subordinate to a richer moral perspective and all but disappears as pertinent in light of the moral viewpoint.

The moral perspective that animates humility has two predominant dimensions: a moral standard or ideal and our fundamental dependence. We can maintain our humility by gauging ourselves by an independent, supreme ideal. For Liddell, this is God’s perfection or the perfection to which He bids us aspire. Of course, we can also compare our moral character to that of other people (such as saints), but such a self-assessment is really but a step on the way to the full ideal, or a shadow cast by it. To be sure, the moral standard need not involve a divine being, as Aristotle’s portrait of the virtuous individual attests. Whether religious or secular, the idea is that individuals govern their self-assessment by moral values that are objective, general, and action-guiding. Doing so, I argue, enables even people of outstanding technical or moral achievement to remain humble.

The moral viewpoint also includes acknowledging our fundamental dependence on forces that undergird our ability and success. Liddell has an abiding sense of his fundamental dependence on God for his natural ability and for the discipline needed to develop it. Liddell can sustain humility in his accomplishments because he gives appropriate credit for them to God. Secular individuals can keep in mind their dependence on the fortuitous influences in their lives, sensitive to the fact that with a twist of fate, or DNA, they would not enjoy the success they do. However much we accomplish, it depends to a great extent on our genetic endowment, parental nurture, education, and just plain luck to have the requisite opportunities to shine. Fundamental dependence is moral because it involves appreciating that we are not responsible for the aspects of life on which we depend; therefore, they are not deserved.

As I discuss Liddell, I will speak of him and his humility as he is portrayed in the film, and apparently was in life, brimming with devotion to God. But I will also speak of him as an exemplar of humility simpliciter because we wish to see how humility can function without religious conviction. Consequently, for all his faith and devotion, the character of Eric Liddell also discloses how a non-religious individual can keep his technical achievement in perspective by viewing it in a moral light. Examining Liddell as our moral paradigm can thereby clarify the role religious conviction is liable to play in the structure of humility without confining our understanding to religious humility.

Companion virtues

The very religious conviction that grounds Liddell’s humbling moral outlook also jeopardizes his running. As luck (or Providence) would have it, the qualifying Olympic heats for Liddell’s race are scheduled to be run on the Sabbath, and he refuses to break with God’s prohibition. The film mines the conflict between Liddell and the British Olympic officials. Not only is Liddell genuinely sorry for not being able to run and for disappointing his countrymen, but his gentle demeanor contrasts with the unsympathetic attitude of the disgruntled officials. One of them, in fact, is simply incredulous that Liddell would let his religious beliefs stand in the way of competing for his nation’s honor.

In the course of resolving Liddell’s quandary, the film discloses deeper layers of his humility. At the same time, it uses the episode of Liddell’s predicament to illuminate how humility encourages other virtues while inhibiting vice. The episode discloses these connections between humility and other moral traits through its depiction of a pivotal supporting character as well as Liddell. One suggestion for reconciling Liddell’s religious compunctions with his chance to run involves simply asking the French officials who are hosting the Olympics to change Liddell’s qualifying heat. But the British committeemen reject the humbling alternative of asking for a favor out of pride cloaked as a matter of “national dignity.” The film thereby underscores Liddell’s humility by contrasting it with the pigheaded pride of his countrymen.

Well, what is to be done? Just as the impasse seems unbreachable, in walks Lord Andrew Lindsay (Nigel Havers), the teammate of Harold Abrahams’s whose funeral oration opens the film. Lindsay offers to give his place in a different race, to be run on a different day, to Liddell. Lindsay first excuses his generosity by pointing out that he has already bagged a silver medal. He then forestalls Liddell’s protest, saying, “A pleasure… just to see you run.” In an understated, almost casual manner, Lindsay’s behavior points to ways in which humility promotes the virtue of generosity and curbs the vice of envy.

Respect and appreciation for what is objectively valuable for its own sake informs humility. As Thomas Hill perceptively observes, humility is “an attitude which measures the importance of things independently of their relation to oneself…” (1991: 112). Because they have the proper attitude toward themselves and their abilities, people with humility are disposed to see value in natural and human creations and events apart from themselves. Humble individuals value and support things such as natural beauty, science, art, or God – because they are objectively worthwhile, independent of themselves. Liddell appreciates what is valuable apart from himself, since it is created by God or reflects His goodness. In the scene of Lindsay’s rescue of the day, we see that Lindsay also honors what is objectively valuable – Liddell’s enormous talent. It seems fair to say that humility engenders gratitude through its regard for things that evoke our admiration or awe that “extend beyond the self” (Snow 1995: 206).

Liddell’s humility clearly makes him grateful to God for all the manifestations of His goodness, including Liddell’s own talent. Lindsay expresses gratitude for Liddell’s running ability and the chance to see Liddell compete at the highest level. Lindsay’s generosity flows from his gratitude for Liddell’s gift. We can be generous with things other than money such as thought, emotion, and recognition; Lindsay is willing to give his opportunity to compete for the sake of something he deems special. None of this could happen unless Lindsay enjoyed an unalloyed appreciation for Liddell’s talent. What makes this additionally important will emerge more explicitly and painfully when we examine the envy that Salieri feels for Mozart’s musical genius (in Chapter Four, on Amadeus).

Lack of humility keeps Salieri from simply admiring the other composer’s immense ability, the way Lindsay is able to fully and unconditionally value Liddell’s running. Indirectly, and perhaps only through reflection on such people as Salieri, Chariots of Fire indicates how humility is a curb on envy. Because of Lindsay’s humble and accurate understanding of his own running ability, he is open and free to unencumbered appreciation of someone who surpasses him in something he prizes. With such sweet appreciation does Lindsay thereby demonstrate that he is himself humbled before the athletic ability of Liddell, from which his act of generosity springs so fully and graciously.

The two small lessons about humility that are nested within Liddell’s quandary artfully complement one another. For even as the pride of the British officials keeps them from humbling themselves by asking the French for a favor, so does Lord Lindsay’s humble regard for Liddell’s talent prompt his generosity. Lack of humility threatens to deprive the British, the world, and Liddell of the chance for him to compete. The presence of humility, encouraging generosity, restores that chance. All does finally end well, of course, as Liddell wins his race, despite the fact that it is a longer distance than he is accustomed to running – yet another obstacle for him to surmount.

The scene of Liddell’s quandary over competing on the Sabbath also discloses yet another virtue that humility fosters: being non-judgmental or charitable in our estimation of others. Liddell clearly thinks that he is right to refuse to run on the Sabbath, and that his interpretation of Scripture is the correct one. Like most religious people, Liddell is no rela...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half Title
• Series Page
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Dedication
• Table of Contents
• Introduction
• 1 Taking humility in stride in Chariots of Fire
• 2 Arrogance in the classroom: The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie and Whiplash
• 3 Art and integrity in The Fabulous Baker Boys
• 4 Amadeus as a portrait of envy
• 5 The virtues of aspiration: three boys make good
• 6 The calamity of vanity in Young Adult
• Index