When I was a young boy, I grew up under the shadow of my elder sister. She was four years older than me and was, despite the usual share of pampering love and affection that a younger child gets, inevitably entitled to her own share of importance and what's more, she was astute, from a relatively tender age, of the seamier, murkier side to life around her.
It was at the age of ten, for instance, when I learned what she was going through as she crossed the frontier of adolescence and the revelations disturbed me a great deal. It was a couple of years later when she told me of her first boyfriend and from then on, she told me about all her boyfriends, about the time when she first got drunk and of all the other things she had done, without our parents knowing about it. Our conversations used to be full of her secrets and my earnest promises to keep her secrets, my heart suddenly burdened with a new responsibility that it had to bear at all costs.
Because I had admired my sister, because she had worked hard at school, despite her abysmal grades, and had earned her rightful place as a doted-upon daughter in our family, because she had the rare quality of calling a spade a spade and being honest and unpretentious about it, because she never judged people and while she could be cruel to those who judged her, she would never look down upon them too. She was, in a way, my idol.
What happens when an idol falls in grace?
I think that is what this brilliant, haunting, perfectly paced story by the one and only Graham Greene tries and succeeds in answering and it is an answer that would not be too reassuring. Filmed memorably by Carol Reed, even as Greene himself tweaked the central narrative arc in a crucial aspect to make it more easily palatable for the frustratingly demanding British censors, "The Fallen Idol" is nevertheless a fascinating film, scripted with the same concise clarity as to be found in most of Greene and directed with a confident skill at nuance and emotional depth.
The story, however, was originally named "The Basement Room" and with good reason - this is a story, not only about a young boy and his flawed idol, his broken, all-too-imperfect hero "coming clean" one night about his secrets but also about class divisions and what do they represent - the green baize door, clearly belonging to Greene's own childhood, separates the clean, sanitised and scrubbed world of Phillip and the sordid, murky allegorical world of marital discord and infidelity of his hero Baines. Just what does happen when these two worlds, one harmless and frolicsome, and the other puzzling and morally grey, fuse with each other? Naturally, things go bump at night and a boy's sense of heroism and life is twisted on its head, for once and for all.
An unforgettable story, written with skill, emotion, drama, wry irony. But then, this is to be expected from Greene.