Calvary (2014)

"Do not despair; one of the thieves was saved. 
Do not presume; one of the thieves was damned".
 
- St. Augustine.

In a startling opening scene, and as Father James (Brendan Gleeson) himself admits, "It's certainly a startling opening line", an unknown man, during a confessional in a local church in a small Irish village, confesses that he was raped by a priest as a child, repeatedly for five years. The man says, he isn't seeking absolution, nor does he want to cope with what happened to him. He instead wants to kill a good priest, for that would be a big thing for the church as against killing a bad priest, and besides, his perpetrator is no more among the living. The man walks away issuing the threat, but not before granting Father James seven days to settle things and make his peace with God. The day is marked as the next Sunday.

Over the following week, a somewhat perturbed Father James goes about his life, and interacts with the village-folk, perhaps in the hope of confirming his suspicions about the identity of his would-be killer. Only this week turns out to be like no other, as he struggles with his own faith, caught in the eye of a storm of agnosticism and religious criticism.

Calvary is the name of the site where Jesus Christ was crucified. James is also, perhaps in danger of being killed by the seaside, where the killer says he would do the act. While James is no saint, the fatherly priest is certainly a godsend in the godforsaken Irish village, where cynicism, agnosticism and extreme atheism prevails. God-fearing, optimistic, morally stable people like Father James who still believe in humanity are in a clear minority. While the setup evokes memories of Robert Bresson's revered classic "Diary of a Country Priest" (1951), McDonagh's film differs in its tone and intent. In Bresson's film, the lead character is a young priest, just starting off in a local village, where all the inherent meanness and moral corruption around him finds him questioning his own faith in the face of a hopeless scenario. Moreover, the film is relentlessly bleak, practically devoid of any kind of humour.

"Calvary" is more of a dark tragicomedy rife with sardonic and often gallows humour, with a mystery plot wrapped around, giving it a more edgy and accessible feel. Its thematic heaviness, touching upon complex subjects such as existentialism, faith, religion and morality may find considerable appeal in the arthouse circles. The lead character in "Calvary" is an elderly man, more experienced, and undeterred by all the scorn that comes his way. Carefree individuals with little or no scruples seem to hate him as well as admire him. They do attend the church regularly, but it's obvious not all of them are real believers or abide by even a shred of the doctrines of the religion they follow.

A married woman who visits the church appears to have facial injuries. James interferes and finds she is having an affair with a coloured South American man and infers that the injury is caused due to a violent reaction by the husband. But the altruistic move of putting these people on a righteous path misfires when it turns out, the woman enjoys being beaten, and her husband is happy about the situation for he doesn't much like her anyway! Just when one thinks it couldn't get any more degenerate, the woman herself comes up to James, mocks him, tells him she is about to commit a mortal sin, and goes on to meet her lover!

Interesting questions are raised about morality and sin, salvation and damnation, through Father James' one week journey. A well-written script lays out intriguing episodes in the life of James, woven together, giving us a prophetic picture of the kind of culture that is threatening to emerge in the village, serving as a microcosm for the world in general. The idea of faith appears to be fading away. People seem to getting increasingly detached and the moral fabric holding the society together faces a great danger of gradual unraveling. Unabashed disregard for virtuousness on one hand and a fear of God or inherent virtue on the other; a fifty percent possibility of any outcome no matter what path you choose, as summarized in the paradox above, quoted by St. Augustine.

In one devastating scene, James strikes an innocuous conversation with a little girl in an isolated area. Her father soon enters the scene and instead of looking at James as a possible protector, reacts with furious anger and questions his motives. James' reaction is that of utter frustration and sadness, and he is unable to fathom the depths to which the image of the church has plunged; the extent to which the healthiest of bonds are looked down upon with gross doubts of misconduct.

In the midst of all this, the motivations and purpose of the church are questioned, especially in the wake of some shocking sex scandals. The meaning of forgiveness is questioned, when Father James says that his ex-pupil, a dreaded serial killer in jail deserves absolution much like any other human being, despite his confession that he enjoyed brutalizing his victims! The debate between fair and unfair is seen from a tricky perspective, when a very good man suddenly dies in an accident and his wife, perhaps with a hint of sarcasm says that what happened to her husband is not unfair. It's just something that happened. Others who aren't good people, who don't love or feel love, continue to live on. Now that's unfair!

In one clever instance, James advises a young, inept loner, Milo (Killian Scott), against joining the army, for the conditions didn't deem it necessary for anyone to join the army unless they wanted to know how it's like to kill someone. "Thou shalt not kill" is the word. "What about self defense?", young Milo quips! James is visibly faced with a question mark and admits that it is an exception. Words of these youngsters suddenly make sense to him and perhaps fleeting thoughts cross his mind, about whether these religious teachings indeed hold any water and whether right and wrong could ever be classified as black and white. 

Thrown into the mix is James' suicidal daughter Fiona (Kelly Reilly), who is surprisingly met with some more gallows humour from the village folk about how she botched up the wrist-slitting action! She is battling with a lost love and lost parents, thanks to her father giving up the family life and becoming a priest. But in a very strange, but beautiful twist following the film's shattering climax it is hinted that she has inherited her father's nature. 

Most of the people James gets in touch with, find no solace or respite after their discussion with him. People seem to be troubled but their troubles are converting them to stones and as humanity erodes away, an exasperated James decides to take a vacation. In a splendid, cleverly timed scene concerning a coffin and its carriers, James witnesses the peak of human detachment. Perhaps this sight becomes his epiphany, the last nail in the coffin that makes him confirm his path and seals his fate. 

Anchored by Brendan Gleeson's electrifying performance, "Calvary" boasts of a soulful score, breathtaking cinematography capturing some picturesque Irish country landscapes, and a sharp script featuring an eclectic medley of characters. Some of the characterization may seem a little over the top, but it all goes well with the darkly comic flavour of the film that is used to top up an otherwise tragic character portrait. James is not the gravest of characters either. He maintains his cool for the most part, appears to be full of dry wit, even when his limits are tested, and there are outbursts. He is aware that he is nothing like Jesus Christ who died for the sins of the world. But could the confessor's threat be a means for him to offer himself as the Lamb of God to redeem the ghastly sins of the church and of his entire village?

He does mention in the end, in that one statement that could make the viewer sit down and ponder. "I think there's too much talk about sins, not enough about virtues. Forgiveness is a virtue that has been highly underrated".

Score: 9/10

Valley of the Bees (Údolí Včel) (1968)

***NOTE: The following analysis/review may contain MILD SPOILERS regarding some detail in the film, but not to the extent of making the film viewing experience any lesser.***

"Suffering is the way to God".

Welcome to the dark ages, where ignorance and religious fanaticism looms large. These are the medieval times in an unknown century, presumably the fourteenth. It is the era of the Christian Military Orders, societies of Knights with a common purpose of propagating and defending their faith. Men who commit to the life of the Order have to lead harsh lifestyles. This includes, vows of celibacy, rigorous fasting, praying, and ultimately defending the honour of their religion and faith. Deserting the Order is a punishable offense, and anyone found guilty of doing so would be tagged a traitor and could face death by some of the worst methods.

Some of these men, however, don't necessarily commit to the Order on their own accord. A few are forced into it for various reasons. They are perhaps too young to realize what they are getting into, or are paying for the sins of their fathers. In such a scenario, there are those who choose to flee. They desire the good life, settle down, marry, have kids. And why not? It's only human. But then, it's a sin to even think like that, for by doing so, you are betraying Jesus Christ. With such unpleasant ideas instilled in these men, it is not unthinkable that some have doubts, and face a strong crisis of faith. But the Order claims that they have weakened and pray that God forgive them their weakness!

František Vláčil's "Valley of the Bees" (1968) takes us right at the heart of such a grim universe. A teenaged Ondrej, angered that his much older father is marrying a girl his age in their large castle, gifts his new mother a basketful of flowers, beneath which there turn out to be a number of half-dead bats! Enraged at the insult to his new bride, Ondrej's father flings his son on a wall, badly hurting him. Calming down the next instant and regretting his act, though, the father prays that his son's life be saved, in return for which, he vows to send his son to the Order so he can dedicate the rest of his life to serving God.

Several years pass by and Ondrej grows up to be a man (Petr Cepek) in the Order, and in the process, strikes a warm friendship with his mentor, Armin (Jan Kacer). An unforeseen chain of events leads to Ondrej ultimately fleeing from the Order and seeking a path back home. A dejected Armin vows to find Ondrej and bring him back.

Vláčil tells a story that is reasonably simple, but rife with complex themes, addressing subjects like crisis of faith and the established concepts of sin and redemption. Ondrej eventually returns home to find his father dead and his stepmother Lenora grown into a beautiful woman (Vera Galatíková). Not surprisingly, there is an instant attraction, but it is sinful to have such feelings for each other, for in effect, they are mother and son, even though they've hardly known each other or lived with that kind of a bond. Both, supposed devout Christians are now faced with a huge dilemma.

Lenora flogs herself in one scene, presumably as punishment for having lustful thoughts about her stepson. But when he does make advances, she rejects them, although she seems to want him. She sighs in silence and looks on in helpless desperation when she overhears Ondrej and the maids discuss about an impossibility of there being any children in the courtyard to make it a livelier place. Quite ironically, in a bid to save the dying local Church, the priest Father Blasius (Michal Kozuch) agrees to marry off Ondrej and his stepmother, thus letting them officially sin in return for a donation!

While Ondrej is the apparent lead character here, it is the character of Armin that acts as a driving force in putting forth several of the stronger themes. Armin's desperation to bring Ondrej back may be a result of a homosexual undercurrent, although it is not made explicit. There are scenes to suggest that men committed to the Order experience a sexual urge towards their fellow knights.

One particular bawdy-looking man seems to make advances at Armin, which he rejects. The entire scene is pulled off in an implicit manner and one may even fail to notice that any such thing is implied. At one point Armin who doesn't make an eye contact with a woman says, "Men of the order do not look at women", almost serving as a veiled reference to homosexuality being a norm in sects such as the one Armin comes from!

On at least two occasions, other characters point out that Armin's body feels cold. This serves as a metaphorical reference for how dead Armin really is! All the life has been sucked out of him. He is the trained robot of the Order, a stubborn protector of the faith, one who wouldn't relent and will abide by the rules 'til the very end. There appears to be a direct attack on the rigid dogmatism of any religion, sect or organization in general. It wouldn't be wrong to think of "Valley of the Bees" as a veiled critique of the authoritarian and harsh ways of the Communist government, considering the film was released in 1968, the decade of the very important Czech new wave. Armin's stuck up ways and the authoritarianism of the head of the sect enforcing rules, very much mirrors communist traits.

A lot of ambiguity surrounds the character of Armin and his motivations, especially pertaining to his acts in the final third. Apart from the homosexual subtext discussed above, there also appears to be a strong sense of jealousy stemming from a false sense of pride and accomplishment in the faith of the Order. A very intense conversation takes place between Armin and Father Blasius. Armin vents: "Why should only the virtuous die of cold and hunger in their cells? The others live without faith and multiply like ants". Armin is left with a sense of disbelief and an obvious crisis. What good is his dedication to the Order, following all the rules, while the one who breaks them, Ondrej, is about to begin a happy life with a woman. A devastated Armin feels forsaken by God when he simply cannot come to terms with the fact that Ondrej is a much happier man, despite his supposed betrayal of Christ. And therefore, what actually drives Armin to take that final drastic step, is open to interpretation.

A film as dark, and of such intense magnitude needed a storytelling style just as dark and disquieting, and Vláčil ensures that he does justice. His film is a marvel of a period piece that puts you right in the midst of the middle ages. The attention to detail, the costumes, the sets, everything is authentic to the hilt. The poetic filming style and the bleak, black and white cinematography ensures that every frame evokes a sense of despair and desolation. 

A brooding atmosphere and a sublime, hypnotic score evoking gloom and loneliness adds to the experience and literally makes the viewer feel the chill of those godforsaken times. The long shots overlooking the castles, the fortresses and their interiors emanate a ghostly aura and a sense of foreboding. For all its style, the film would probably not have been as effective had it not been for the exceptional performances from a great primary cast of three. The actors completely understand their characters and their inner conflicts and end up delivering powerful, convincing performances.

František Vláčil's "Valley of the Bees" is a masterpiece of Czech cinema, a dark saga that has such enormous power, it will likely leave you gazing at the screen long after the final frame.

Score: 10/10

La Femme Infidèle (aka The Unfaithful Wife) (1969)

The opening scene showcases some extremely happy times in the garden of the Desvallées' plush home. The mother-in-law (Louise Rioton) of Charles Desvallées (Michel Bouquet) is visiting and they are all sharing light moments together. Charles and the others are all smiles, their rich country property brimming with an otherworldly satisfaction. Charles' mother-in-law and his beautiful wife Hélène (Stéphane Audran) discuss his weight pre and post their marriage, while their little son prances around. Only this display of cheerful bliss is ridiculously good to be true, and seems overdone with its immaculate perfection and saccharine sweetness. Perhaps it is a deliberate move on filmmaker Claude Chabrol's part to indicate that not all is as hunky dory as it seems on the surface.

Charles and Hélène have a real fine life, with all the luxuries in the world. But mere luxuries don't amount to complete happiness, as the rest of the plot of "La Femme Infidèle", this masterstroke of a film points out. A chance enquiry at a certain beauty parlour that Hélène usually visits, makes Charles aware that his wife has been lying to him about something; at least about where she goes during the day while he is at work. As it turns out and as the title of the film suggests, Hélène is having an affair with another man, unbeknownst to poor old Charles. This, of course, he finds out upon further scrutiny, and after hiring a private detective to follow her.

A disturbed but still, composed Charles decides to pay his competitor a visit. What follows later, forms the crux of this outstanding little drama penned and directed by the great Claude Chabrol. A regular Chabrol-esque plot that follows a bourgeois family, secrets, lies, deceit and even a murder as part of its proceedings proves to its audiences that despite the usual keywords, the film takes a shape that is anything but predictable.

So while you expect Charles to confront his wife upon the discovery of her fooling around with another man, such a thing never happens. He never takes it up with her, perhaps because he loves her way too much, or because he cares for their son, or because he feels he is better off not creating a scene about it. Chabrol's steady grip on his narrative only proves his prowess as a master storyteller, as the game-changing event in the film, the face to face meet of Charles and his wife's lover takes a rather intriguing turn.

This is the most crucial part of the film and it accentuates the nature of Charles as a person. It is very easy to empathize with this poor bloke who helplessly listens to the sordid tale of his wife's actions. Bouquet's performance here is a class act that knocks the ball right out of the park. He strikes a rather unusual conversation with his wife's lover, making him quite comfortable with their dialog. There are multiple emotions visible on Charles' visage; sadness, anger, shame, humiliation, embarrassment and loneliness. Bouquet pulls it all off so well, one can't help but stand up and applaud the amazing conviction he puts in into this performance. Your heart goes out to the overwrought Charles, as his voice quivers and softens in utter disappointment over his dark discovery.

Hélène's lover is Victor, played by Maurice Ronet, another fine actor, who unfortunately doesn't get much scenery to chew on, but pulls off his part remarkably well. The sense of comfort he exhibits in conversing with the husband of his lover and an awkwardness mixed with it is palpable, even as he offers his guest another drink of whiskey! Victor's charming, innocent face and gentlemanly behaviour and body language in fact makes the viewer take a liking for him rather than hate him for stealing another person's wife. His attitude seems to be somewhat nonchalant as well.

The final third of the film displays Chabrol's true writing genius. Most of what occurs in the middle portion of the film is left unsaid. There are certain consequences of these events and they affect the couple in different ways. Only neither party is vocal about their feelings or thoughts and such a scenario is equally frustrating and delightfully realistic for the viewing audience. Despite a lack of verbal communication or confrontation, a lot ends up being conveyed anyway! As with most Chabrol dramas, there is an inherent moral complexity associated with "La Femme Infidèle". It is really difficult to take sides here and on the flip side, you find yourself empathizing with what's universally accepted as morally wrong!

It is Chabrol's command on the script that ensures that a tragedy of such an epic proportion, afflicting a happy family, keeps itself from turning into a weepy soap opera and remains firmly grounded. The subtlety and the silence triumphs, and any chance of the account of the tough times in the life of the Desvallées' succumbing to melodramatic conflicts and heightened moments, is quite gracefully avoided. The second half the film is overflowing with suspense and intrigue. Every minute is tense, and every move of each character demands the viewer's full attention. It is honestly, very difficult to look away as one waits with bated breath throughout. It is the build-up that is more nail-biting than the anticipation of the outcome!

"La Femme Infidèle" was remade by Adrian Lyne in the 2002 American film "Unfaithful" starring Diane Lane and Richard Gere which was a decent film at best. Later, the Lyne film was unofficially and shamelessly ripped off and remade into at least three, very tacky, Indian B-films. Nevertheless, the original source film, not surprisingly towers as a masterwork and proves itself to be one of the greatest French thrillers out there.

Score: 9/10