Shake the Devil Off, Dir. by Peter
Entell. Show and Tell Films, 2007. 99 mins.
Reviewed by Zada N. Johnson, University of
Chicago.
In
February 2006, as New Orleans
residents struggled to rebuild their lives after the devastation of Hurricane
Katrina, members of the city’s historically African-American St. Augustine
Catholic Church were dealt another crushing blow—the New Orleans Archdiocese
ordered that the minimally damaged parish be closed due to low membership.
Despite a public outcry to save the church, citing its prominent historic value
as one of the oldest African-American Catholic parishes in the country and the cornerstone
of the city’s jazz music and second-line parade traditions, the archdiocese upheld
its decision to close St. Augustine
and remove the church’s longtime parish priest, Father Jerome LeDoux. The
onslaught of public disapproval and civil disobedience that followed this
decision are the subject of Swiss filmmaker Peter Entell’s Shake the Devil Off,
an independent documentary that poignantly reveals one community’s struggle to recover
from disaster and preserve its religious heritage in post-Katrina New Orleans.
As
the documentary opens, it is six months after Hurricane Katrina in the historic
Treme community, the oldest African-American neighborhood in the United States
and home of St. Augustine Catholic Church. Located along the same stretch of
high ground as the French Quarter, the Treme community and St. Augustine Church
was largely spared from the severe flood damage that left other parts of the
city underwater for weeks. Nevertheless, Treme still suffered displacement and
extensive property damage from hurricane winds as well as loss of employment
and loss of loved ones. Immediately after the storm, St. Augustine became a center of recovery
efforts providing aid to displaced residents and turning the church hall into a
food and clothing repository. In one particularly touching scene in the film,
parish priest Father Jerome LeDoux offers his own living quarters at the church
as a temporary shelter to a displaced resident while he sleeps downstairs on
the floor. Despite the pivotal role Father LeDoux and St.
Augustine play in the Treme’s recovery, the community is shocked to
learn that the New Orleans Archdiocese plans to close St. Augustine due to financial hardship and a
decline in church membership. Ironically, the news comes at the same time half
of St. Augustine’s
pre-Katrina membership has returned and the neighborhood appears to be thriving
with the support of the church.
The
prospect of St. Augustine closing sparks a
public outcry which emphasized the church’s historical significance to the
Treme community as well as its contribution to the development of New Orleans’ unique
cultural and musical heritage. Founded in 1842 by free people of color and
built by slave labor, St. Augustine Church was one of the earliest congregations in United States
history where enslaved peoples worshipped in the same place as free people of
color and whites. It is believed that the unique religious environment of St. Augustine inspired historical parishioners including
Homer Plessy (of the Plessy vs. Ferguson
civil rights law suit) and civil rights lawyer A.P. Tureaud to pursue
African-American citizenship rights decades before the Civil Rights Movement of
the 1960s. Additionally, St. Augustine has also
played a major role in the development of traditional jazz music in New Orleans as well as the
city’s unique cultural practices including Mardi Gras Indian processions and
brass band second-line street parades.
As
the film reveals, St. Augustine’s
historical value is not lost on its present membership. During the community’s Mardi Gras celebration
which quickly transformed into a petition signing campaign to protest the
Archdiocese’s decision, longtime parishioner Marion Colbert and Treme Brass
Band member Lionel Batiste direct the film crew to get footage of the church’s
Tomb of the Unknown Slave monument as a testament of the often forgotten
history of slavery in the city. The church’s close link to the history of slavery
in New Orleans is also illustrated in the family
history of parish council president Sandra Gordon, whose enslaved great-great
grandmother acquired permission from her master to be baptized at St. Augustine. As he
describes the church’s historical connection to nearby Congo Square, parish council member Al
Harris points out the significance of St. Augustine as hallowed ground and
declares that the community “will not stand still” for the church’s demise.
In
just weeks after the initial news, matters for St. Augustine grow increasingly dire. Not only
is the attempt to appeal the Archdiocese’s decision unsuccessful, but it is
later learned that St. Augustine will be merged with a nearby parish and Father
LeDoux will be immediately relocated to another church out of state. At this
point, the overall sense of community despair is summed up in parishioner and
local folk artist Ashton Ramsey’s question “After the most horrific thing that
has ever happened in our country, why would you want to take [St. Augustine]
away from the people now?”. Public outrage escalates when it is discovered that
the principal writer of the pastoral plan to close the church is the same
priest that has been appointed to take over pastoral duties at St. Augustine after Father LeDoux’s removal.
With seemingly no other course of action, St. Augustine supporters and student
protestors take matters into their own hands and barricade themselves in the
church rectory demanding that the church retain its status as a parish and
Father LeDoux be allowed to return.
During
a press conference held in front of the church, local civil rights veteran
Jerome Smith calls for a reprise of “Mississippi Summer” in New
Orleans to keep St.
Augustine open. Soon the controversy at St. Augustine garners
national media attention as well as the support of Reverend Jesse Jackson and
Reverend Al Sharpton. The Archdiocese’s subsequent attempt to proceed with mass
at St. Augustine
under the direction of the newly appointed priest, results in a bitter
confrontation between protestors and clergy that ended with church officials
abruptly leaving mass amid the parishioners thunderous chorus of “We Shall Not
Be Moved”. Several days later, an agreement is reached between the St. Augustine parish and
the Archdiocese to allow the church eighteen months to comply with membership
and financial obligations. Unfortunately this agreement does not rescind Fr.
LeDoux’s removal from St. Augustine and he is
instead replaced with a priest from Central America.
The
power of Shake the Devil Off lies in Entell’s skillful use of real-time
footage and first hand accounts from Treme residents and parish members as the
crisis surrounding the church unfolds. Entell is also able to capture the rich New Orleans musical heritage of the Treme community with
performances held at St. Augustine
by the Marsalis family, Glen David Andrews, Donald Harrison and the Congo
Nation Mardi Gras Indians, the Treme Brass Band, Mother Tongue, Michael White
and the St. Augustine Church Choir among many others. In addition, the
documentary also reveals the way that history, race and social space inform
discourses of loss and recovery in post-Katrina religious consciousness. As a
religious center, St. Augustine
not only represents the faith of its members but also their history, cultural
heritage and in many ways their hope for post-Katrina recovery.
Lastly,
the documentary conveys a very timely reminder that the devastating effects of Hurricane
Katrina are still largely unresolved. As this review is being published, St. Augustine’s
eighteen-month grace period has expired and the parish faces an institutional review
from the pastoral council that will determine its future. Although the
Archdiocese has somewhat softened its position stating that it will do
everything in its power to keep the church open, the possibility still remains
that St. Augustine could close. In this regard, Shake the Devil Off should
serve as a clarion call that the work to restore the communities that have been
laid bare by Hurricane Katrina is far from done.