In fact, the gratitude ought to run in the opposite direction. The film is great public relations for the pro-abortion movement; it's a flattering portrait of a gruff but kindly doctor who alternates between delivering babies and aborting them in a rural orphanage. The film's message is that moral maturity means understanding that life is complicated and that certain rules don't apply in all circumstances.

Forgive me, but wouldn't a real display of courage be a film that portrayed pro-lifers in at least two dimensions? Not easy, I grant you. It would be very difficult for people in Hollywood to tell the story fairly — let alone sympathetically — of people who don't run in their circles and who, in their devotion to both mother and unborn child, fit no stereotypes.

When it comes to depicting pro-lifers, is it possible that the film industry may some day come of age? Can the public eventually expect textured portraits of these people, many of whom have dedicated over 20 years of their lives to helping women and their unborn children?

Clearly, we have competing ideas of maturity. One side thinks courage is making a tough choice to end a child's life. The other side thinks courage means dealing in a life-affirming way with all the obstacles that we know a pregnant woman in a crisis faces.

If a filmmaker brought that story line to a studio executive, the initial response would probably be less than positive. But if that filmmaker could summon up the courage to stay the course, he or she might not only create an artistic triumph worthy of an Oscar, but also make a real contribution to a fuller, more nuanced understanding of the women and men who have dedicated their lives to finding a solution where everyone wins.