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Poland

Corpus Christi – The Body of Christ

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“Each of us is a priest of Christ. Me, you. Each and every one of you.”

Oscar-nominated Corpus Christi (for Best International Feature Film) explores what it means to be a priest of Christ. But it does so through the story of an imposter who finds a community in need. The story is inspired by actual events. There are various such accounts for the filmmaker to chose from. The story is told with comedy, but also with darkness and pathos. In doing so, the balance creates an environment to consider our own role in serving Christ.

Twenty year old Daniel (Bartosz Bielenia) has had a spiritual awakening while in a juvenile detention center. He serves as an acolyte for the Father Tomasz who holds services. When he is to be paroled, he wishes he could go to seminary, but none will accept him with his criminal record. He goes to a town where he is to report to a sawmill for work. He wanders into the church and meets Eliza (Eliza Rycembel) a young woman whose mother (Aleksandra Konieczna) seems to run the church. Trying to impress Eliza, Daniel claims to be a priest, and has a clergy collar to prove it.

When the local vicar has a spiritual breakdown and must go for treatment, he convinces Daniel (going by the name Father Tomasz) to fill in for a day or two. It is Daniel’s dream come true. But it turns out to be more than just a day or two. Soon Daniel is having to deal with various spiritual issues that the town is struggling with—especially the grief and anger over several people killed in an auto accident.

He soon becomes an important part of the community. He connects with young people (especially Eliza). He uses the kinds of therapy sessions he experienced in juvie to lead the people through their grief. His preaching brings joy and hope. He reaches out to the woman who many blame for the accident. He goes to the sawmill where he was supposed to work to give a blessing. But that also leads to problems when someone recognizes him.

During a Q&A at the screening I saw at AFI Fest, director Jan Komasa noted that the Catholic Church did not want to cooperate with the film because they thought it made it seem like anyone could act like a priest. I sympathize with that sentiment. Most churches have requirements about who can be ordained. Those standards are important. The fact that Daniel was not ordained could well bring into question the validity of the rites he presided over. But it is also true that Daniel was a gifted young man who brought the healing grace of God into a community that sorely needed it. He was, despite being an imposter, truly the priest of Christ for those people.

The title of the film comes from the Feast of Corpus Christi, which is one of the events Daniel presided over. It becomes a key event in the crisis the town is experiencing. That feast focuses on the real presence of Christ in the elements of the Eucharist. The term translates as “Body of Christ”. In this story we see what it means for the church to be the body of Christ—and for Christians to be Christ’s presence in the world.

Even though I understand the Catholic Church’s opposition to this story, I also support the way this film brings forth an important concept, the priesthood of all believers. Even though we may see the ordained ministry as important, we also need to remember that the ministry of God in the world is not limited to the men and women who have had hands laid on them. The words Father Tomasz (the real one) speaks to his juvenile detention center congregation (the quote that opens this review), is a reminder to us all that we are all, each and every one, priests of Christ to those we meet and serve.

Photos courtesy of Aurum Films

1on1 with Jan Komasa (CORPUS CHRISTI)

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I recently had the opportunity to speak by phone with Jan Komasa, director of the Polish film Corpus Christi, which is on the shortlist of films being considered for an Oscar nomination for Best Foreign Feature. The film is the story of a young man (Daniel) who impersonates a priest in a small town parish. The film is due to be released in the U.S. in the spring of 2020.

First off, congratulations on making the Oscar shortlist for Best Foreign Language Feature.

Thank you. Thank you. It came as a huge surprise, out of 90-some films. Yeah, a lot of people were working on this, at least to get it out to the members. Getting through a huge number of films, it’s a huge obstacle without a very big budget, because we don’t have a huge budget for promotion. We’re very happy.

 I see the film’s done well at film festivals. How has it been received in Poland?

So far, so good. About 1.4 million people saw it in cinemas, so the turnout is great. As far as I know the sales agent has sold it to around 40 countries, I believe. So it’s going great, for people with money.

That wasn’t my purpose to be honest, in the first place. I just wanted to make it sincere. To be honest, I’ve made some blockbusters already here in Poland, so I sort of know how it is. I’m not interested in big success. I’m interested in success, but not financial success. All of this, it might be overwhelming, but I don’t feel like I care that much about it.

This is a film that’s based on real event. Could you say a bit about how you heard of the story and made a film about it?

My scriptwriter, Mateusz Pacewicz, he was the one who heard about this. When he was eighteen years old he became obsessed with people pretending to be priests or people of faith in Poland—people of faith as officials of church. As it turned out there are several cases each year of imposters—fake priests. Not a lot people know about it because the Church is not happy with it either—being so easy to manipulate people with just wearing priests’ robes and collar. There’s such respect for priest, for Church, here in Poland, that people don’t ask you for credentials. They don’t check you out. They just believe that you’re not going to fool them or cheat them. Especially in rural areas.

So I didn’t know about it. We’ve heard some crazy stories about imposters every now and then. There was one case in 2011 where a guy was a fake priest for four months [including] May and June, which is during [the feast of] Corpus Christi, and he helped organize Corpus Christi in one of the small villages in rural Poland. That was the basis of Mateusz’s article in the newspaper. First it was a fiction short story, then he wrote it into an article. Thanks to the article he was approached by one of the top producers here in Poland who wanted to acquire rights for the story. And Mateusz decided to write it himself, with the help of the producer.

They found me and sent me the script. I was fascinated by it, but not too much. I sent them my commentary on the film and the process. They fell silent for two or three months.  After three months they sent me the revised version script, and it turned out they implemented ninety percent of my comments. It fit well with the script. I felt very, very lucky and I should appreciate it because while reading it I saw my film, but I also met this amazing guy, Mateusz, who I’ve already made another feature film with, and it’s finished.

What struck me with the film—with the project—at the beginning was, I’m Christian and my biggest fear—I have a huge family. I have three siblings. My parents, and my wife has four siblings. Everyone married. Almost everyone has kids. So when we sit at the table there’s thirty of us. My biggest fear is that—the family was always like a bubble. I felt secure in it. The family is like number one subtheme in my films. I have another project about family. So, I love family sagas like The Godfather. My biggest fear came when—I feel that around 2014-15 a huge national socio-political change came to Poland, not only to Poland, I could feel it going on everywhere, leaning towards ultra-conservatism. There’s been many reasons for it. But what happened with nations, with continents, is there turns out there’s a huge gap between tribes. There are tribes. That was the first thing to notice: there are tribes. The other thing is the gaps between tribes are huge. A gap of that size simply doesn’t allow people to come together and talk freely with each other.

Unfortunately it affected my family as well. The divide was not only cities and countries and streets, but families, and my family was one of them. My biggest fear was that one day it would all blow up, and people who were very close you feel are strangers. When I read the script for Corpus Christi I felt like it totally nails it—this fear of one community, which craves some kind of union, but it just fails. The community is broken, fractured. People know that and feel the hurt, but it’s just too much. It’s just too difficult for them to come together, to get over it.

The idea of a stranger coming to town and trying to do good, spread love, sort of learn the language of conversation using basic Christian values and approach—so Christian that sometimes it might be unheard of, even politically in the official Christian Church—at least in some places in Poland—that it might be revolutionary. Which is something, I think, is very basic today. Like, let’s just talk and come together. We’re not going to kill each other over differences. We’re all one species, so let’s just talk and do something about it. We don’t have to agree about everything. And the idea of having a healer, even when he’s fake, for me at least, was revolutionary and thrilling and refreshing. It just refers to a lot of my fear—and dreams at the same time.

One of the things about Daniel is that he’s broken too. When he comes to this community, he understands brokenness.

That’s right. Actually what’s tricky about this script, it might be very effective when it comes to creating paradox, which I really like in cinema. It’s great food for thought, if it’s written well. And here I think it was by Mateus remarkably well. We have two films in one. One film is about an imposter—a guy who uses his fake identity. I can easily imagine a film only about that. But there’s another film here about fractured community. I can also easily imagine a film about somebody, let’s say a real priest, but young, replacing the old priest at the parish and he comes and discovers there’s a mystery and a challenge, and he heals people. But here the two films are setting side by side together in one project and it gives a huge opportunity to play with paradoxes.

So for example, as you said, you have a broken person, who thanks to his brokenness, he relates to the broken community. We have a fake priest—somebody who cheats and lies. But at the same time he is able to squeeze out the truth from people. We have a patient from a juvenile detention center, and he runs a therapy on people who are not patients, but apparently behave like patients. We have a community which feels rejected by the overall society, and they don’t hesitate to reject other people too. Daniel is a broken character to start with, and he knows the bitter feeling of rejection himself. So when he finds that rejected people reject others, he finds the black sheep in the community, and he feels for her. He knows how it is to be out of the community—to be condemned by all. His mission becomes to get them together. I found it thrilling when I read it, and very rare in a feature film, that so many layers are conversing with perception and soul at the same time.

I saw in an interview that you think of this as a Protestant film. How so?

Protestant meaning probably a cultural thing. Poland is predominantly Catholic. Protestant in the way, at least stereotypically, in the way priests are with their community. In my understanding, there’s a certain wall between the priest and the community. At least here in Poland. The Protestant approach seems closer to people. Not every Protestant approach, obviously, but the barriers between someone who’s a priest, someone who’s a pastor and his community seem less severe, with less restrictions. I’m not saying there’s none because it’s impossible. It’s a function. It’s a social function, a church function. So it always creates some obstacles, obviously. But there’s a feeling that priests are not like regular people.

I was growing up with this, surrounded by this strong Catholicism. During Communism, Poland was very religious, because it was religion, but for fifty years it was religion that kept us going as a nation. Churches were the only places where we could gather freely—at least that’s what we thought. We felt we were independent in church. So a lot of intellectuals, people who are artists, people who today we would say they’re more affiliated with leftists—they found their home in church. That was the only place they could feel free—more free. After fifty years, when freedom was regained the Church sort of shelter wasn’t needed anymore. There’s a lot of people who after thirty years of being free as a country, we feel like the Church detached from the society to a huge extent. I feel the detachment is so great now, and I’m telling you, this as a Catholic, the Church became politically affiliated, especially with the right wing. They let nationalists, with the flag and the hate rhetoric, through its gates.

Suddenly, for people like me it became too hard to find our place in church. Not to say we were super active before, but still we felt—I felt too—that maybe, I don’t know, we became like two different species, tribes, too much. I just couldn’t find a relationship with church—my relationship with church—that significant. So I’m not the only one. But it doesn’t mean I’m not spiritual. I’m talking about me because it’s easier. I’m not generalizing. But I feel like I’m an example of many, many people who feel the same way. I feel like the community is still spiritual, as it was. Nothing changed in that matter. People need to talk about fundamental values and the sense of it all, not only philosophically and intellectually.

Since a lot of us felt we were sort of alone with this, but we don’t find any partner in Church anymore—the Catholic Church—we started to look for alternatives. That was probably Protestant church, which is not significant in Poland, became an option for a lot of people. A lot of now talk about Protestant church before talking about leaving church at all. I think that probably why Protestant church feels like the approach people are missing.

But that’s probably why this film, at least in Poland, was called a Protestant approach film. Like what is a guy who just wants to be closer with people without building too many walls around him because of the office he wields, just breaks barriers and wants to be very direct with people and more down to earth, almost like a pastor. Of course, it’s another generalization. To be honest, as I’ve said, we’re predominantly Catholic, so not much Protestant church in Poland, compared with knowledge as American about Protestant church. It’s complicated. I’m not an expert, but I feel like the Protestant approach is a bit more direct.

One of the lines that I find important in the film, and for me the theme of the film, is when Father Tomasz tells Daniel, “Each of us is a priest of Christ”. I thing that is often times seen as a very Protestant concept. We are all priests, not just the one who is designated as priest.

Okay. I think you’re right. I think that’s the theme. We don’t have to be designated to share Christ’s word, right?

Thursday at AFIFest 2019

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As AFI Fest 2019 Presented by Audi draws to a close, it is time to thank the festival and it’s press office for allowing me to attend and report on the festival. I also want to thank the countless volunteers who helped to make the festival run smoothly and make sure I got in the right line when it was time to do so.

I am one of many people who has enjoyed Oliver Sacks’s books about various neurological maladies. Oliver Sachs: His Own Life is a documentary by Ric Burns. Burns was given very important access to Sacks in his final months before dying in 2015. The film tells of his life, his struggles (which include drugs and coming to grips with being gay). Above all, though, it paints him as a man who was amazingly empathetic and curious about people—especially patients with various neurological problems. He says that he always wanted to know what it was like to be another sentient being—to be another human being. That empathy is what made his books such a joy to read. When I read them, it was not just seeing some strange person or their illness; it was a chance to learn what it was like to be them as they lived with their malady—or in some cases, their gift.

In Corpus Christi from director Jan Komasa, Daniel is paroled out of the juvenile penal system and sent to work at a sawmill in a distant town. When he arrives, instead of reporting to work, he goes to the church to pray. When asked, he says he is a priest. He has a clergy collar and is taken to meet the local vicar. When the vicar becomes sick the next day, he asks Daniel to fill in for him a few days. Daniel has served as an altar boy, and would like to become a priest, but his conviction prevents him from going to seminary. Soon he’s hearing confession, presiding at mass, giving last rites and all the other things priests may have to do. In time, of course, his past will catch up with him. What I found interesting about the film is that even while knowing what he was doing was wrong, Daniel strove to do what was right. He applies the kind of tactics the chaplain in his facility had used to help the villagers work through grief and anger stemming from a traffic accident that killed several young people. At times we also see the awe that Daniel feels as he realizes what he is being called to do. While some may think it is anti-church in saying there is nothing special about the priesthood, it does serve as a reminder of the idea of the priesthood of all believers. Corpus Christi is Poland’s official Oscar submission for International Feature. It will open in the US in the spring of 2020.

Slamdance Film Festival – Day 4

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Covering Slamdance has been a bit different for me because I didn’t actually attend the festival. Through filmmakers and publicists sharing screeners with me I’ve covered the film festival from the warmth of southern California. (As I write this it’s currently 33 F in Park City and 74 F in my patio.) While there are plusses to covering a festival remotely, I miss the word of mouth and opportunity to meet filmmakers and hear their introductions and Q&As at screening. My thanks for all those who shared their films with me for coverage.

The Bekińskis opens with the voice of Polish painter Zdzislaw Bekiński informing a friend of his son Tomasz’s death. The film then uses family photos, taped audio, home movies and video to relate the family’s history. Zdzislaw was fascinated with new technology and took every opportunity to use it to chronicle has family’s life. And it is not just vacations and birthday parties. It includes very personal discussions about the family dynamics and resentments. As the film progresses we learn of suicide attempts, a plane crash, illness, and murder. The elder Bekiński created dark surrealist paintings. We see some of his works throughout the film. Those dark paintings set a morose mood for the film that grows ever more grim.

Director Joshua Magor describes We Are Thankful (original title Siyabonga) as docufiction. It is the story of an South African actor, Siyabonga Majola, who hears that an English filmmaker is going to make a film in a nearby town. He sets off on a journey to take his career to a new level. That is exactly how Magor and Majola got together, and from that meeting, Magor decided the film he needed to make was the story of Majola’s trip and the various people and situations he encountered on the way. While the film spends a lot of time with Siya walking alone through country and towns, it is interesting to see and hear the parts of life that Siya lives. At the very end of the film, We hear his prayer and his desires for his day, his career, and the people he meets. That prayer puts the whole film into context.

 

Cold War – Smoldering Sorrow

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“Love’s love and that’s that.”

A pair of star-crossed lovers are the focus of Pawel Pawlikowski’s Cold War, Poland’s entry for Best Foreign Language Film consideration. Set in the years following the Second World War, it moves back and forth between the Communist and Democratic worlds, but it is not the geopolitical situation that is reflected in the title, but the relationship between two people who can never be happy apart—or together.

Beginning in 1949, Wiktor (Tomasz Kot) and Irena (Agata Kulesza) are traveling the Polish countryside looking for those who know folk songs and dances. They are forming a touring ensemble that would preserve and celebrate this music of the people. One of those who auditions is Zula (Joanna Kulig), a young woman with a dark past who will do whatever it takes to survive in a hard world. Wiktor is immediately drawn to Zula, and before long they are lovers.

But Wiktor and Zula are from two very different worlds. As the government starts politicizing the folk group and its performances, Wiktor begins to think he might be better off in the West. On a trip to Germany, Wiktor plans to defect. He asks Zula to join him, but when the time comes, she doesn’t show up. As the years go by, the two reunite from time to time on both sides of the Iron Curtain. Each time, their passion for each other consumes them, but that passion is not enough. Neither will feel at home in the other’s world. Each reunion brings a new breakup.

Wiktor and Zula are mismatched because of background and the inability to adapt to each other’s world. Just as Wiktor yearned for freedom (both musically and politically), Zula was at home in the Communist state that has given her fame and comfort. When the two are together in Paris, it is clear that Zula will never fit in with the more intellectual world that Wiktor enjoys. They are doomed, not by enmity of those around them as with the original star-crossed lovers, Romeo and Juliet, but by their internal hostility to the other’s choices in life. As in the political Cold War, they are constantly seeking a tentative coexistence, but then escalating tensions to an unbearable level.

The black and white, Academy ration cinematography adds a since of nostalgia to the film, as well as a sense of smoldering sexuality. This is a relationship based in passion and the film uses its visual artistry to enhance that. Also of import is the music of the film. The contrast of the politicized Polish folk music and the freedom of Wiktor’s jazz in the West points to the different worlds the two lovers inhabit.

Photos courtesy of Amazon Studios

Thursday at AFIFest 2018

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AFIFest 2018 Presented by Audi has wound down to the end. It will be a few days before the results of the audience awards voting is known. But I’m sure the staff is pleased with this year’s festival and will soon be working on next years. I appreciate their hospitality and that they welcome me as press for the event.

Fans of Laurel and Hardy comedies will no doubt find joy in Stan & Ollie from director Jon S. Baird. Steve Coogan and John C. Reilly perfectly capture the titular duo. The story focuses on a 1953 British tour as they strive to make a comeback. Laurel is working on a screenplay for a film they hope to make, and the tour (which starts off very disappointingly) is suppose to show people still want to see them. However, the strain of the tour brings out old resentment s that threaten to scuttle their working partnership and their friendship. Stan & Ollie opens in theaters at the end of the year.

Poland’s official Oscar entry is Pawel Pawlikowski’s Cold War (Zimna Wojna). In the years after World War II, Wiktor (Tomasz Kot) assembles a group of young singers and dancers to perform traditional music. He is taken by one of the young women, Zula (Joanna Kulig) and they soon fall in love. As the years pass, the dream of freedom in the west leads Wiktor to defect. Through the years they reunite, but can’t seem to find happiness on either side of the Iron Curtain. There is marvelous black and white cinematography. Cold War is set to open in the U.S. in December.

The Last Suit – Road Trip to Grace

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We often try to bury the past—to forget the pain and suffering. That can be a good thing if we move on with life and find fulfillment. But often that buried past comes to haunt us. It may actually prevent the good life we hope for in the future until it is recognized and addressed.

Abraham Bursztein (Miguel Ángel Solá) is an 88 year old Holocaust survivor who has made a life for himself in Buenos Aires. But his health is failing. His children have sold his home and he is scheduled to move into a retirement home. But he has a secret plan to make one last trip—to return to Poland to take a suit to the Christian friend who saved his life after the War. But this is a trip that is not just about the gratitude he owes that friend; it is also about the resentments he has carried all these years.

The film is a road movie of his trip to find what has been missing from his life. In part the trip is an attempt to be in control of his life. His children have made all the decisions for him. But the trip is also driven by a long-forgotten promise. His life cannot be complete while that promise has not been fulfilled. He sees this as a one-way trip, as though he is doing this as one final task before he is ready for the end.

Abraham is a severe, judgmental, and bitter man who holds grudges forever. His family knows that he considers “Poland” a dirty word. As he makes this trip he refuses to say the word himself. He’ll only show a piece of paper with the word on it. We know that Poland is where terrible things happened to him. He continues to hold on to the anger against Poland, and even more Germany.

This road trip turns into a series of encounters that put his anger in perspective. He keeps meeting people who, in spite of his cheerlessness and even rudeness, seek to help him. Each of these people bring a touch of grace into his life. He begins to connect with them in ways that start to knock down the walls of his anger. When he comes to his final destination, we learn that what he is really trying to return to is the place where he first met grace in the actions of another. This time grace was a chance to return to life after being in the realm of death that was the Holocaust. When those walls are finally destroyed, Abraham is then free to love as he has not done for many years.

Watching the film, I constantly wondered why these people would respond to Abraham with kindness when he was always so mean-spirited. But then that is what makes it grace. Grace reaches out to those who do not deserve it. It is freely offered just because it is needed. The film does not talk about God, but it does show the way God—and God’s people—touch lives and bring new life.

Photos courtesy of Outsider Pictures

 

The Zookeeper’s Wife – Providing Sanctuary

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“I don’t belong here. They don’t belong here. You don’t belong here.”

The Zookeeper’s Wife opens in an almost Edenic world. Jan (Johan Heldenbergh) and Antonina (Jessica Chastain) Zabinski live on the grounds of the Warsaw Zoo, where Jan is the head zookeeper. Their son sleeps with lion cubs. When Antonina bicycles around the zoo, a young camel runs along with her. It is a happy and carefree existence. Not quite carefree, because war is looming. The serpent of this Eden is Lutz Heck (Daniel Brühl), the visiting head of the Berlin Zoo. He is obviously taken with Antonina, but claims he isn’t involved in politics.

When Germany invades on September 1, 1938, beginning the Second World War, the zoo is bombed with the rest of Warsaw. Animals are loose and in fear. Many are killed. Soon Heck is back, in an SS uniform, to take control of the animals, to ship the best to Berlin (for “protection”) and to try to use the zoo’s bison to breed long extinct aurochs (a reminder of the Nazi’s concern with eugenics and scientific exploitation). But soon, the Germans are forcing Jews into the Ghetto, and perhaps worse fates await.

The Zabinskis at first secretly harbor Antonina’s best friend, but as the world inside the Ghetto gets worse, they ask the Germans for permission to use the zoo as a pig farm to feed troops, and to feed the pigs with garbage from the Ghetto. Each day Jan goes to pick up the garbage, and smuggle out some of the Jews who are given refuge in the zoo. Through the years, over 300 persons made their way to the safety of the zoo. The Zambiskis, of course, are risking their lives by doing this. They not only provided safety; they provided friendship and even a bit of culture. Each night after the German guards left the zoo, Antonina would play the piano to let those in hiding know they could come out. That time became almost like an evening salon of conversation and companionship.

The film is based on a book by Diane Ackerman, which is a more extensive telling of the Zabinskis’ true story. As is often the case, time constraints require that things are often left out in adaptations of books. Here, we get very brief glimpses of parts of the story, such as Antonina’s pregnancy and Jan’s going off to fight with the Resistance, leaving Antonina alone to deal with their guests.

The Zabinskis’ decision to harbor as many Jews as they could was a courageous act—and a very illegal one. They were well aware of the threat that the Germans represented—both to the Jews and to those who harbored them. Yet, for them, the humanity of their neighbors took precedence over the laws that history has shown to be abhorrent. The idea of offering sanctuary to those in danger has a long history—and continues to be a valid question for people today. We live in a world filled with refugees of various kinds. Many have a difficult time finding a safe and welcoming place. More and more nations are closing their borders to those in need—or seeking to deport those already here. Some—including many churches—are seeking ways to provide a haven for those in need and fear. Stories from the Holocaust, like this one, are a reminder of how important those havens are.

Available July 4 on Blu-ray, DVD, and On Demand; available now on Digital HD. Special features include deleted scenes, the making of the film, and a look at the Zabinski family. 

 

 

The Innocents – Faith and Doubt in War’s Aftermath

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“Faith is twenty-four hours of doubt and one minute of hope.”

The Innocents is one of my favorites from the Newport Beach Film Festival. Set in late 1945 Poland, Mathilde (Lou de Laage), a young French woman doctor, is summoned to a Benedictine convent to aid in the birth of a child. She discovers that there are several pregnant nuns there, the results of rape by first German and later Soviet soldiers. The Abbess (Agata Kulesza) is adamant that this not be reported—it would mean shame and the closing of the convent—but she agrees to allow Mathilde to return and care for the nuns.

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Films in recent years have often treated nuns as something of a dark force within the church. The Innocents treats them with respect, even in times when they may do things that we would deem as inappropriate or even sinful. The film gives us a chance to consider what life within a cloister is like. It shows us the daily rhythms built around prayer. We get insight into what it means to take a vow of chastity and maintain that vow even in extreme circumstances. For example, some of the pregnant nuns do not want Mathilda to touch them even to examine them or deliver the baby because it may go counter to their vows. Even the greatest sin that we observe, we are not asked to judge harshly because we know that there is a reason (although we may question that reason) for such action, and also because of the guilt that weighs so heavily on the one who does it.

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The setting for the film in the aftermath of World War II, shows us a world that is still very broken and in need of healing. There are orphans running uncared for in the streets—even playing atop a coffin sitting in the road. The convent was not spared the horrors of war. Even as the story plays out, the presence of Soviet troops continues to be a threat to the convent—and to Mathilde. The war, although technically over, continues to play out in the lives both inside and outside the walls of the convent.

Mathilde is very much an outsider in both worlds. Within her Red Cross mission, because she is a woman, she doesn’t have the same prestige as a male doctor would have. She is relegated to being an assistant. Within the cloister, where she doesn’t speak the language or understand the religious life, she is very off-balance, but soon learns to adapt.

Much of the film involves a contrast between the sisters and Mathilde, an unbeliever. Mathilde has many conversations with Sister Maria (Agata Buzek) who serves as her translator with the nuns. Mathilde discovers that these nuns, some old, some young, all have a devotion to God, even as they struggle with doubts, especially in the face of the evil that has been visited upon them. Some have lost faith, others hold to it strongly. Mathilde seems fascinated by the faith they hold which is so different from her own approach to the world. Yet she also sees that they may well be happier with their lives than she is with hers.

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The film touches on the question of how God can allow such evil to exist, but without dwelling on it or trying to answer such and unanswerable question. Rather it focuses on how one moves on in the aftermath of such devastation—whether personal or societal. Mathilde struggles within her non-religious worldview just as the nuns struggle with their faith. Yet both must strive to find ways to move forward and to heal the deep wounds within themselves and the world.

Photos courtesy of Music Box Films.

 

Sunday at Newport Beach Film Festival

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after 16

The Easter Rising of 1916 may be the Irish equivalent of America’s Battle of Lexington. It marks the effective beginning of the road to independence. To celebrate and commemorate the centennial of the Rising, the Irish Film Board curated “After ’16”, a collection of short films that look at those events with various styles and perspectives. The collection showed at NBFF as part of the festival’s ongoing connection with Irish film. The shorts give a nice introduction to the events. The first two shown were both memoirs. A Terrible Hullabaloo features the memories of a 90 year old who took part in the Rising as a child. As we hear his voice over, we see the actions in puppetry. A Father’s Letter shares the memories of a 102 year old Jesuit priest whose father was one of the leaders of the Rising. He recalls visiting his father in prison just before his execution and the letter his father sent to his family. My Life for Ireland is an entertaining story of a young man trying to get to Dublin to take part, but ends up taking over a small town post office instead. Styled like a 1940s film it has a great sense of comedy about the situation. Granite and Chalk is a documentary about two spies for the British who might well have short-circuited the Rising if they had been successful. Goodbye Darling is the most poignant and artistic of the films. As her husband is leading a group of volunteers in the Rising, a pregnant wife is in her well-appointed home playing the piano. It really is very effective. Baring Arms shows various Irish people getting tattoos to remember the Rising and its leaders. The Cherishing reminds us of the children who were killed in the Rising. As two boys go off to loot the candy store there is tragedy that will mark their families. Mr. Yeats and the Beastly Coins tells of the creation in 1926 of Ireland’s first set of coins. The committee chaired by poet W. B. Yeats worked to give Ireland a distinctive set of coins, but it was a convoluted road to make it happen.

There was a good crowd for the showing of the documentary South Bureau Homicide that focuses on the homicide detectives in one of Los Angeles’s most violent neighborhoods. It shows their desire to work with the community and forge bonds. Not only the detectives, but some of the neighborhood community leaders tell their stories on screen. Many reflect a religious foundation for what they do.

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Papa: Hemingway in Cuba tells the story of a young writer who connects with the author Ernest Hemingway during the late 1950s when Hemingway is living in Cuba. Although the relationship starts out as hero worship, a true friendship develops, even though Hemingway is in the midst of a suicidal depression. This is the first Hollywood film shot in Cuba since the revolution. The film opens in theaters Friday.

The Innocents (Agnus Dei) is set in the aftermath of World War II. A female French doctor in Poland finds a convent with several pregnant nuns—the result of abuse by both German and Russian soldiers. The nuns do not wish to be discovered by the authorities. They are reticent to have any outside help and believe their vows of chastity must still be observed even in giving birth. Questions of faith and loss of faith—and of the lies that are told and crimes that continue to be committed in the name of doing good–all come into play.

For romcom fans the festival has Alex and Eve, an Australian film about a Greek Orthodox math teacher who meets a Lebanese Muslim lawyer. As they fall in love, their families are both trying to fix them up with spouses from their own communities. The conflicts really arise out of cultural issues. The religious aspects are treated fairly superficially. It follows the typical sweep of a romantic comedy, and tries to see just how close they can come to missing each other before they claim their happiness.