Calvary

Over the years, the exact prevalence of religion—once a practice of every living individual—has begun to diminish. Even a land that predominantly houses Catholicism has seen many members stray from its church doors and holy hands. Father James Lavelle, a priest played by Brendan Gleeson, seems to be a hopeless believer who's surrounded by a heap of obnoxious, disrespectful townsfolk—a priest who seeks to absolve humanity from the remnants of sin that still plague it, still naïve enough to realize that goal is frankly impossible. In a world of drunkards, murderers, adulterers, rapists—there is no saving grace. This determined idea of forgiveness and cleansing fixed into Father James' devout mind might very well be his downfall—an idea of terrible ignorance, especially considering the fact that he belongs to a faith organization that has persistently concealed atrocious acts of child sexual abuse and the like for many decades.

Are these mean-spirited neighbors not justified in staring at this priest as if they were to spit in his face any minute, bearing in mind his profession and ties? Parents of this town are frightened for their kids, and though Gleeson in particular is good-natured and harmless, the mere sight of him accompanying a pre-adolescent immediately distresses the mother and father as they instantly grab their child with disgust on their face pointed at this poor old man. But again, the situation is so complicated and the multifarious angles described in such a predicament can be deemed understandable from the appropriate perspective. Those parents don't know Father James to the extent that we do, and to them, he's another one from the Catholic Church.

Despite being an Atheist myself, Calvary nonetheless paints a complex picture of a world divided—a film of great depth in its spirituality and philosophy. The majority of the movie is spent in local pubs and homes, laying witness to rich conversations between Gleeson and struggling townspeople whether it concerns his suicidal daughter (Kelly Reilly), a corrupt, yet conscience-stricken, banker (Dylan Moran), or an elderly man on the brink of death, enjoying the sound of a typewriter's clinking as he writes his final story (M. Emmet Walsh). A grim and depressing film this sure is, yet markedly powerful and thought-provoking as well. It advances on to ask questions and leaves us in wonderment. From an atheistic standpoint, it still left me with sympathy for this goodhearted man despite the fact that he was a downright preacher.

At the start, it seems like Gleeson's authority reigns supreme over the town. Being a priest, the people address him as so and welcome him to tête-à-tête, but as the narrative progresses, these same people increase in hostility and insolence as if the events over the past few days have suddenly changed their position. Once again, one of the most important issues this tale touches on is the infamous string of rape cases within the church hierarchy. In Ireland, alone, an influx of 9000 statutory rape reports came in in a single day when child sexual abuse truly came to light back in the 1970's—back when the hypocritical wickedness behind those sanctimonious quarters was gradually revealing itself to the faithful and the doubters alike.

And in this case, Calvary begins with an unknown individual who enters the confessional to discuss his prior sins with Gleeson only to actually begin spouting his utter anger at the church, recalling his years of youth when he "first tasted semen at the mere age of 7." His abhorrence for the clergy has stayed with him to this day and to the point where he vows to murder an innocent priest (Gleeson) as he was once attacked as an innocent boy—the desecration of purity or decency (though this man is not aware of the fact that Father James was once an alcoholic and fought with his own fair share of sins; he's not exactly the most guiltless being anyway).

Similar to last year's Philomena, Calvary emphasizes and criticizes the various facets that have wounded the Catholic Church's public image and forever changed many people's views of these institutions. Now, this movie is quite interesting on a tonal level because at times, it can be exhaustingly tragic and somber, but at the same time—every now and then— the witty style of the script will force you to guffaw at the expense of very serious subject matter. It's a tricky area, but Calvary's particular genre would best be listed as "dark, dark comedy"—the darkest of black comedies. Nevertheless, its mixture of humor, sincere/thoughtful themes, and a memorably tragic tale allowed this drama to cast its lasting effects into my mind long after I've concluded it.

Even though its stance and thematic material is substantially more ambiguous in comparison to Philomena's and some of the motives are left frustratingly opaque to the audience, the film just couldn't leave my thoughts. I would instantly recall its melancholy, Celtic score, its gorgeous and gloomily-lit cinematography (notice that the film cuts from the increasing hopelessness/bleakness of the narrative to shots of roaring waves and darkened nature as if to symbolize the ineluctable storm that the ultimate end of this tale is to bring), and the soulful emotion that drives the narrative forward. Calvary, much like another recent picture (A Most Wanted Man), delves you into contemplation over heavily controversial issues that continue to bedevil society into perpetual argument.

This movie is NOT I repeat NOT a comedy, it is a drama addressing serious issues from Ireland's past that happens to have some dark comedy moments.

It is well written, directed and acted and draws you into the little community in Sligo. As usual Brendan Gleeson proves he is one of the finest Irish actors around playing the likable priest who realises the worlds problems are real.

The end of the movie will leave you thinking and in all likelihood the cinema will be in silence and that is a sign of what this film has achieved... a contemplative piece forcing us to think on our past and how we treat.

8/10

Greetings again from the darkness. Writer/director John Michael McDonagh and actor Brendon Gleeson re-team (The Guard, 2011) in what can be viewed as one giant leap for both filmmaker and actor. Mr. McDonagh is immensely talented and seems to be a natural at keeping his viewers unsure of what's coming.

Set and filmed in a western Irish coastal town, the film has a most unusual first scene, including an acknowledgment of such as the priest (Gleeson) says "Certainly a startling opening line". This occurs in the confessional with an extreme close-up as the unseen (by us) parishioner then says "I'm going to kill you Father". With Sunday week as the promised deadline, the movie follows the Priest with a placard for each day, as he makes his way through the maze of local town characters. He also receives a visit from his daughter (Kelly Reilly), fresh off a suicide attempt (he was married prior to joining the priesthood).

The film bounces from very dark humor to extreme philosophical and theological discussions between the town folks and the priest. We quickly learn what a good man he is, and struggle to understand why the locals flash such vitriol his way. The Catholic Church, and all that implies these days, certainly plays a key role, but more than that, this is about the make-up and character of people.

This is not the place to go into detail about the story, as the film is best unwrapped and interpreted by each viewer. What can be said is that this is exceptional filmmaking: it's well directed, beautifully photographed, superbly acted, has a terrific script, and encourages much discussion.

My expectations for this movie were medium, I saw the cast had a lot of great comedians, so I thought there would at least be a few laughs. Instead, I was surprised to see a very powerful and touching movie, absolutely great script, never a doll moment, funny comebacks, terrifyingly creepy monologues and Brendan Gleeson. Hats off to this wonderful, talented actor! I was completely sold on his interpretation of an intellectual, yet devoted priest. And also, I found it very refreshing that the character was written as sincerely religious but not bigoted. I strongly recommend you go see this movie and I can't wait to see it again!

At the end of the film I reflected that this was a far bigger film that I had been expecting. The issues explored in the film really do come together at the end. The credits roll silently and I noticed that the full cinema was very quiet and remained so for a much longer time than usual.

The problems in the Catholic church have had repercussions and this parish in Sligo is losing its faith. This loss of faith is portrayed very vividly, it is expressed more strongly than in reality I think.

The film revolves around the character of Father James Lavelle played powerfully by Brendan Gleeson. As Father James visits his parishioners there is much humour, often quite dark. The script has many choice lines. A man arrives to give a lift to a female parishioner who has been sexually promiscuous and she says "here is my ride".

Father James Lavelle is a likable priest, grappling with applying the church's teachings in the modern world. It is a thankless task and always his objective is undermined by the failures of the church itself. Father James's character is contrasted with that of a younger priest he shares the parish with (David Wilmot). The younger priest is very much part of the institution of the church and his loyal naïvety is humorous and infuriating.

Father James' life is threatened at the beginning, but this film is not a detective story, it is not Father Brown. Father James knows who threatened him but we the audience are not let in on the secret. The logic behind the threat is described ingeniously as events in the film come to a head at the end.