The Passenger is a story of Father Francis, a priest caught between the ongoing violence in Northern Ireland during the 70s. At the beginning of the film, we see him reassuring his congregation that in times of darkness and despair, one must hold onto their faith, and trust the Lord will make things right. But later that night, when Francis is called to help a young boy on death’s doorstep, he is faced with a situation of despair that is beyond his control… the boy is going to be shot dead that night for informing against the IRA and he's asked for a priest to console him in his final moments. Unable to convince the IRA men to let him go, all Francis can do is sit with the young boy and pray... promising him everything will be okay... that God needs him now. When Francis steps out to his congregation the next morning, he sees their faces looking towards him with open arms and trust. But in Francis' face... where the once was hope, is there now doubt? But before we can know for sure... and just as he opens his mouth to speak, we cut to black.
Romans 8:24 - 25: Hope that is seen is not hope; for who hopes for what they already see? I'm interested in the idea of faith and putting your trust towards something which is unknown and unseen, and how this can morph into feelings of doubt. The Present Suffering & Future Glory passage in Romans holds a lot of ideas about how to deal with current suffering, we must put faith in the future, that everything will make sense for a reason. It's the purest form of belief. This concept is incredibly relevant to the climate of The Troubles, a conflict that was specifically born from religious foundations, where violence unfolded without reason or thought -- the feeling of senseless, never-ending conflict. I want to explore the impact a turbulent, outside environment can have on one's inner thoughts and beliefs. How long can someone last until the violence becomes too much to ignore, to excuse? At one point do you lose your hope?