Mother Joan Of The Angels (1961)

"Maybe there are no demons. It's only a lack of angels."

France, in the 17^th century, witnessed one of the worst atrocities perpetrated by humankind. A popular and openly libertine priest, Father Urbain Grandier of Loudun, known for his philandering ways, was accused of witchcraft and commerce with the Devil. A group of Ursuline nuns, led by the Mother Superior, Jeanne of the Angels, claimed to have been possessed by demons, owing to being seduced and corrupted by Grandier, who was ultimately convicted, tortured and burned alive at the stake. Legend has it that the whole incident was purportedly an organized witch-hunt, to oust the unorthodox priest, with Mother Jeanne's personal grudge against Grandier and an irrefutable evidence of possession, providing a strong advantage.

This story has been the subject of various literary works and plays, also adapted by English filmmaker Ken Russell in his controversial masterpiece, "The Devils" (1971). Polish filmmaker Jerzy Kawalerowicz's "Mother Joan Of The Angels" (1961), although released ten years earlier, is somewhat of a quasi-sequel to Russell's film. Albeit with character names slightly altered, Kawalerowicz's film is loosely based on events following Grandier's execution.

The nuns at the notorious convent are still supposedly under the influence of the demons, exhibiting hysterical traits, and spitting blasphemous ramblings. With exorcisms already in progress, although with little success, another priest, a specialist, Father Józef Suryn (Mieczyslaw Voit) is called upon to take up the challenging task. Following interactions with the curious local folk, including patrons of a nearby inn, the nuns, and more importantly, a startling face-off with Mother Joan (Lucyna Winnicka), Father Suryn finds himself grappling with his own faith, conflicted by the questionable veracity of Mother Joan's claims, and tormented by his own undeniable attraction to Mother Joan.

Despite directly following the events in Russell's film, "Mother Joan Of The Angels" is a far subtler version in contrast to "The Devils". While the brazen, scandalous depiction of the madness and hysteria of Russell's film is missing here, Kawalerowicz's fairly restrained approach renders a darker and more meditative tone to the proceedings, and what results is a film with a distinctively bleak, tense atmosphere, and aptly so. It is akin to an eerie calm following a deadly storm, with its desolate surroundings and the burnt remains of a carnage serving as horrific reminders of a black chapter in the history of the town; its baffled inhabitants haunted by the ghosts of a terrible episode, still questioning the truth about what really happened.

Without being too unabashed about it, Kawalerowicz manages to shrewdly attack and expose the hypocrisy of organized religion with masterful writing of scenes, comprising of philosophical musings, riveting confrontations and intelligently composed, symbolically heavy imagery. Meticulously in control, and not swaying towards preachiness, Kawalerowicz offers plenty to chew on about the tenets of orthodox religious practices.

Having very human, amorous feelings of desire and carnal needs is a sin, and a work of the devil, they say. So is it that, in a way, God created the Devil, for apparently it is His teachings that direct followers to repress their natural desires? What sort of a religion asks a human to stop being human? Some individuals devoting themselves to serve God are disallowed from having simple human, sensual feelings, and if they do, they are said to be possessed by an evil force!

And what about the unspeakable evil unleashed upon the priest who was burned, by these servants of God? A close look at the circumstances leading to the Loudun possessions do reveal that the priest was burned at the stake as a result of insane jealousy of one woman, an evil that was born out of repressed, unrequited desire, perhaps.

One of the film's highlights is a powerful conversation between Father Suryn and a Rabbi, also played by Mieczyslaw Voit, symbolically incorporating the theme of duality, perhaps hinting at the ambivalence of religious teachings and at the same time conveying that essentially all religion is the same and yet at conflict within or with each other. A near delirious Suryn addressing himself in the mirror, believing to have been possessed, also hints at the two-faced nature of man-made religion. It is interesting that the first frame of the film shows Father Suryn lying face down on the ground and filmed in an angle that makes his profile resemble an inverted cross.

With the theme of demonic possessions and exorcism, the horror quotient is not far behind and the sequences of the ritual are terrifying to say the least. But the first meeting between Mother Joan and Father Suryn almost rivals it in that department and ends with a chilling note while still retaining the ambiguity surrounding the existence of a supernatural force.

The performances are superlative. Mieczyslaw Voit portrays his crisis of faith and self-doubt with an earnestness that rivals Gunnar Björnstrand's performance in Bergman's masterpiece, "Winter Light" (1963). Lucyna Winnicka embodies Mother Joan with an impeccably versatile performance, although for someone who has seen Vanessa Redgrave's mind-blowing freaky hunch-back act in "The Devils", this reviewer finds himself preferring that by a significant margin.

A recurring motif in the film is of the ringing church bells, for those who are lost on their journeys. Beyond the literal purpose of the bell is some potent symbolism that comes alive in the very final shot of the film, with the close-up of the ringing bell against the sound of Mother Joan and spurned Sister Malgorzata (Anna Ciepielewska) sobbing together. This haunting audiovisual juxtaposition speaks volumes of how these poor souls feel lost in their respective emotional journeys and misfortunes, brought about by the beliefs they embraced and eventually imposed upon them in the ruthless world of organized religion in a male-dominated, Godless universe.

Score: 9/10

Night Train (Pociag) (1959)

A bird’s-eye view of a crowded train station. A haunting, almost chilling jazz score with sensuous female vocals. Crisp black and white cinematography. You can’t help but get the feel of a high quality noir film right from the first frame. The myriad human beings look like small creatures scurrying in all directions. It’s a seemingly normal view at a train station. Soon, as the view draws closer, we get a glimpse of some of the primary players in this strangely ambiguous psychological drama.

A dapper looking man with sunglasses, Jerzy (Leon Niemczyk) enters the train compartment without a ticket (saying that he forgot everything at home) and insists on buying his way into the train, and also the neighbouring berths ‘cause he wants to alone. He seems to be tensed, possibly just wants to go away some place, hardly smiles, and smokes a lot of cigarettes. A beautiful young blonde, Marta (Lucyna Winnicka) makes an appearance. She has a certain sadness in her eyes. She obviously has something to hide and is probably on the run from something. A younger man (Zbigniew Cybulski), hot on her pursuit, enters ticket-less and proceeds to constantly stalk her, every chance he gets. As luck would have it, some sort of technical error leads to Marta and Jerzy ending up in the same coupe of two berths. Both of them are visibly disconcerted by this, but eventually give in, and are forced to spend the night in the company of each other, owing to lack of any other option.

It’s the holidays and the train is practically overflowing, as passengers crowd the corridors. They are a motley crew of individuals with varied behavioral traits and their own quirks. There are a group of ogling men who lustfully eye practically every woman that passes by. There’s a flirtatious, married woman (Teresa Szmigielówna) trying to seek the attention of Jerzy every chance she gets, even at the momentary halts at the intermediate stations. For a while we can only hear her husband’s voice, who seems to be a lawyer, and for some reason, seems to be a very boring companion! There’s a young sailor who quietly stares in admiration at a pretty young thing, throughout the train journey. And then there’s an man, an insomniac who cannot sleep in the bunk beds because they remind him of his concentration camp days, so he spends his time reading in the corridor.

Amidst all the chaos, there is some gossip about the latest news of a man who killed his wife and fled! A lot of conversations, exchanges of glances, vague ramblings later, the journey turns into an eventful one for all the passengers. The train suddenly stops at an unknown location, where official authorities board the train, for they have information that there is a wanted killer on board! Which of these ensemble of characters is the person they are looking for? There are suddenly grapevines, as doubt and tension fill the environment, and the characters we are by now familiar with, begin to exhibit a gradual transformation of sorts….

Jerzy Kawalerowicz’s "Night Train" (Original title: Pociag) is not much about its plot. It is, in fact, a very realistic study of how a given group of people would behave and make judgments based on whatever little information they have. Passengers on a train are mostly strangers to each other. But a lot is judged (or misjudged) based on their overall demeanor, body language, personality, and what-not. It is a strikingly natural aspect of any human being and "Night Train" brings it out like no other! The lead characters are both strangers to each other, and in that one night together, they seem to assume quite a few things about each other. So do the other passengers. Where the director plays a winning hand, is at his tactful handling of the screenplay by keeping things deliberately ambiguous for the most part, playing a clever trick on the audience, by keeping them guessing constantly, as they start framing their initial mental perceptions about the various characters. The viewer, then, becomes a passenger himself, the kind of curious bystander who makes enquiries in hushed whispers, despite knowing that its none of his/her business. Or the kind that pushes the others aside to be amongst the first to know more and gossip about it; or the kind of person who starts judging based on initial impressions.

So what is the reality of all these characters then? We are given a hint of it much later, although not everything is declared explicitly. Kawalerowicz’s ploy lies in keeping almost everything under wraps until the final half hour when some subtle twists almost sharpen the blurs, but not entirely! It is also during this time that we learn how a society as a whole, goes up in arms, against anything deemed wrong in the conventional sense. Somewhere amidst all the chaos, we, as individuals of society are also shown the mirror. It is alarming how people can turn their backs on you and stop at nothing to malign or blacklist you, just as quickly as they can turn you into a hero!

Kawalerowicz’s film has some extraordinary camerawork (apparently most of the train corridor scenes were shot on a set; it is almost impossible to make out), which has its highly realistic effect on the viewer (the suffocating feeling of trying to squeeze through a narrow, crowded passageway). It also has some great performances, especially by the two leads, Leon Niemczyk and Lucyna Winnicka, and there’s some riveting drama and mesmerizing score to go along. But "Night Train" goes way beyond its very enticing exterior of a claustrophobic, tense noir, a supposed nod to Hitchcock's thrillers. It makes a very important statement on societal dynamics.

A hidden gem, a winner all the way!

Score: 9/10