Runtime: 1 hour, 45 minutes
Rating: R
Director: John Michael McDonagh
Quick Impressions:
I probably would have seen this movie sooner if I hadn’t misread the title as Cavalry and mistaken the bullet holes in the shape of a cross on Brendan Gleeson’s vestments in the movie poster for buttons on a Union general’s Civil War uniform.
Don’t get me wrong. I’ve got nothing against the Civil War. I’m glad we had it. (Well, I mean, I’m glad we got it out of the way long before I was born, so that I didn’t have to endure the horrors of it, yet I can benefit from the positive changes it brought about—the emancipation of the slaves, the start of statesmen saying, “The United States is…” instead of “The United States are…”) I just don’t feel like sitting through a movie about it. At least not right now. In the past, I’ve really enjoyed watching North and South (though it’s very over-the-top and not actually a movie), Glory, and…I guess that’s all. So let’s just say that Civil War movies are not my cup of tea.
Priest movies, though, are another story entirely. I almost always like movies about the priesthood, especially if they involve mayhem and murder (which they do an uncanny amount of the time). Maybe it’s because I’m Catholic.
But I doubt that because I was raised Protestant. That’s why as soon as I figured out the real title of this film, my mind immediately started singing to me, “Burdens are lifted it at calvary, calvary, calvary! Burdens are lifted at calvary! Jesus is very near!” And then I suddenly thought, “Well that’s a very clever song, because it goes up on the word lifted, and that’s the burden of the song.”
And then I thought, “Well, since there are no other appealing choices at the theater right now because a hundred things come out at once next weekend, I guess I’m going to see Calvary! I hope I like it!”
I did.
The Good:
Calvary doesn’t waste any time. The movie opens with an extremely intriguing epigraph, a quote from St. Augustine that supplies useful framing context as the story unfolds.
Then, in the very first scene, we encounter Irish priest Father James in the confessional one average Sunday when a parishioner whose face we do not see calmly announces his intention to murder him one week later, not because Father James has done anything wrong but because he has not.
I’m not spoiling anything here. This is the movie’s premise, and it happens immediately.
So as Calvary unfolds, we follow Father James through his week, and if it’s a typical week (which it seems to be) Father James has a fairly depressing life. Well, depressing may be the wrong word, but his parishioners certainly don’t make life easy for him.
The film is very engaging, and it has quite a bit of humor (the sort that arises from the dysfunctionality of everyday life), but nevertheless, it’s rather dark (which I suppose is fitting for a film called Calvary).
Writer/director John Michael McDonagh is the brother of Martin McDonagh, the writer/director of In Bruges and Seven Psychopaths, and the humor here is very similar to the humor in those films. (The difference is that both In Bruges and Seven Psychopath feature some scenes so bizarre that they seem slightly surreal or maybe even like hyper-reality, whereas, despite its dark themes, Calvary seems thoroughly grounded in the every day.)
Brendan Gleeson gives a fantastic lead performance that, quite honestly, makes the movie. Father James listens a lot and says relatively little, so the character is built almost entirely non-verbally. He’s the kind of guy whose silences are so pronounced they can be felt by an entire room. Sometimes I have a hard time warming up to characters developed in this way, but Gleeson does such magnificent work that the dedicated priest he plays seems worth our interest almost immediately and becomes increasingly sympathetic as the story progresses.
Playing Fiona, the priest’s troubled daughter (it’s a long story), Kelly Reilly also gives a pretty captivating performance. I remembered Reilly right away from her work opposite Denzel Washington in Flight. I liked her in Flight, but I really like her in Calvary. She does some very nuanced and believable work here, and I think she’s much prettier in this movie than I’ve ever noticed before. (I’m not sure why.)
In fact—though Gleeson is the uncontested star who carries the movie—the entire supporting cast is pretty great. I spent the entire movie trying to place Aidan Gillen and wondering, “Why do I have the feeling I can’t trust that guy? What do I know him from? I’m positive I’ve seen him playing a similar character in a bunch of movies, so maybe we can’t trust him in this movie, either.” But then I finally realized that he’s Lord Baelish (you know, Littlefinger) from Game of Thrones.
Chris O’Dowd is good (and somehow even manages to be funny) in a small part.
And I totally did not recognize Domhnall Gleeson as Freddie, but he’s great, too, as a very disturbing character. (Of course, I should have recognized him. He’s not only Brendan Gleeson’s son, but he also plays Bill Weasley in the Harry Potter movies, and he’s going to be in the next Star Wars, so I need to start committing his face to memory.)
Dylan Moran is very good, too, and so is the rest of the cast. I feel a bit like Father James, though, bound by the seal of the confessional. Unless I want to spoil the movie, I can’t tell you much about these people or their secrets, so there’s no point in naming every actor in the cast without commenting much on the details of each particular performance. They’re all very good.
What I like best about the movie is that it gives us such a ponderous sense of how different the world must look when you’re a priest. I mean, teachers know everyone’s children. Police officers meet all the criminals. Firefighters are always encountering disasters. And priests know everybody’s sins.
It’s funny, you know, the parishioners all seem to agree that Father James is one of the few good priests, but in spite of that—actually because of it—they treat him horribly. That’s his job, though, to accept the worst of them and encourage them to become better. Meanwhile, they behave like children acting out, as if they view him as the representative of God and of the Church (which he is). They subject him to all their frustration, disappointment, and (in some cases) longing, and they expect him to respond to their worst selves with his best self. What’s truly remarkable, though, is that in almost every case, he does.
The movie also makes an excellent point about connection and the need for social engagement and human interaction. The scheme of the “villain,” actually makes a lot of sense (unfortunately).
Best Scene Visually:
There’s a great moment when a woman emerges from the vast, rolling ocean and walks up the beach toward Brendan Gleeson’s Father James who is waiting there expectantly for her.
Of course, Ireland is always beautiful, the ocean is always majestic, and this film has already done a fabulous job of showcasing the unassuming grandeur of the father’s familiar haunts. (Calvary makes Ireland look like a grand old estate where a family has lived comfortably for years. The landscape looks impressive, yet lived in, well used.)
But this scene in particular got my attention right away because of the nature of the woman’s entrance from the ocean. Ordinarily such an entrance would be sexualized beyond belief. How often as a movie audience have we been invited to bask in the burgeoning sexuality of a beautiful woman in a bathing suit walking up out of a horizon-spanning sea?
It’s a shot so often used that it’s practically a cinematic trope. Think of Ursula Andress’s iconic entrance in Dr. No or Halle Berry’s homage to that entrance in Die Another Day.
But in this scene, the scantily clad woman emerging from the sea does not look erotic at all, strange given that she is relatively young, quite thin, and certainly not unattractive. Puzzled immediately, I tried to make sense of what was happening but did not understand at all until I saw her walk all the way up to the priest (unseen by the audience until she reached him).
Then suddenly I realized that we were seeing her through the priest’s gaze, so not only was she not sexualized, she actually looked quite vulnerable, awkward, and pathetic.
As the scene continues, we get the best look at the character of Veronica (beguilingly played by Orla O’Rourke) that we’ve gotten so far, and she’s incredibly fascinating (to me at least). This scene left me wanting to know a lot more about her. She’s one (of two parishioners) who seems to be begging for help from Father James even as she’s pushing him away.
But visually, this captivating scene keeps getting richer and richer, too. Somehow—do not ask me how—they manage to make the sandy bluff behind the priest coordinate perfectly with the colors and contours of his face. I honestly have no idea how this was achieved, but the effect makes an impression for sure.
It reminds me of another visually striking moment in the movie, when a character asks what a painting means, and Father James replies, “Does it have to mean something?” The end of that scene makes quite an impression, as well.
Best Scene:
A few scenes stand out, among them, the night everyone gathers at the church for an unexpected reason, the moment with the dog, the conversation with the widow (the uncannily named Marie-Josée Croze). I am a particular fan of the bit with Freddie in the prison, though. Part of the reason is that you watch encounter after encounter and think, Hmm, these people are all very screwed up. But then you meet Freddie and decide, Well, maybe they’re not really so bad, after all.
And Father James is a terrific priest (though perhaps not the best father. It’s easy to see why most Roman Catholic priests do not have families.)
Best Action Sequence:
The final scene on the beach, of course, is riveting, since we have known that it will be from the beginning.
The Negatives:
This movie is kind of depressing.
I think it makes a powerful statement and raises a number of good questions quite artfully. It’s well made, well acted, beautifully shot, and highly engaging. But it’s still sort of dark, and it leaves you with this feeling of profound, aching sadness.
The relationship between Father James and his daughter is one of the most effective elements of the film, but I still feel some frustration about its lack of…not lack of resolution. I don’t know quite how to put this without spoiling the ending. But there little E.T. moment on the beach seemed gratingly inadequate to me. It also seemed suspiciously allegorical, and I’ve said before in other reviews how much I love allegory.
Overall:
Calvary is well made, thought provoking, and for sure aptly titled. I’m glad I watched it, but I’m not sure that I’d be eager to see it again. It’s a bit like reading through the passion or doing the stations of the cross. Reading about or meditating on Christ’s betrayal and crucifixion (without talking also about the resurrection) is certainly worthwhile, but it can be emotionally exhausting, and watching Calvary leaves us with a similar feeling. You definitely won’t be skipping out of this movie, squealing in delight, “Hooray! What fun! Now let’s go get some cotton candy!”
(Of course, I would strongly recommend against leaving any movie like that. Such behavior will only make you look crazy.)
Calvary is worth seeing, but before you buy your ticket, make sure you’re in a good frame of mind.