DIARY OF A CITY PRIEST

“One of the most profound emotional experiences in the history of the cinema” was how Pauline Kael described French director Robert Bresson's 1951 drama “Diary of a Country Priest.” Now Eugene Martin has sought to craft a soulmate (attend closely: not a remake or a sequel) to that spiritual classic, based on a journal kept by the real-life Father John McNamee. His parish, St. Malachy, is in blighted North Philadelphia, predominantly black, poor, and non-Catholic, where “Father Mac” finds himself on Easter Sunday alone, in an empty church. McNamee's “flock” comes after dark, a steady stream of idlers, panhandlers, junkies and thieves, looking for handouts or something to steal from the compliant priest (the church's new car, a gift donated by an upscale couple, will undoubtedly be the first thing to go). Father Mac has other visitors, of course – ghosts of the saints, like Malachy, Theresa and Francis. They materialize to offer the burnt-out clergyman comfort and affirmation that his good works do make a difference, that his existence has meaning despite the compassion fatigue, disillusionment and doubt. In contemplative vignettes and meditations, suitable for all ages and faiths, DIARY OF A CITY PRIEST ascends to a most rare and hallowed state of grace.