La passione di Giovanna d'Arco

Carl Th. Dreyer's The Passion of Joan of Arc was made, perhaps, years ahead of its time- my guess would be that if it wasn't burned after its initial release, it would've had as stunning an impact on the film world years down the line as Citizen Kane did. Though the use of close-ups and distorted angles were not completely new in this film, it felt like Dreyer was creating a new kind of cinema, one where reality, however cold and pitiful, was displayed with complete sincerity. There is also the editing (by Dreyer and Marguerite Beague), which has the timing that many directors/editors of the modern day could only hope to achieve (it has the influence of Eisenstein, only in a totally different historical context), and those moves with the camera by Rudolph Mate (who would go on to photograph Foreign Correspondent and Lady from Shanghai) that are precious- to call his work on the film extraordinary is an understatement.

And it was crucial for Dreyer to use the close-ups and tilted angles and shots where you only see the eyes in the bottom of the frame, and so forth- he's developing the perfect atmosphere in regards to a trial set in 15th century France. It's all those eyes, all those faces, holding all those stolid mindsets that send Joan to her fate. Pretty soon a viewer feels these presences from all these people, so strong and uncompromising, and Dreyer does a miraculous thing- he makes it so that we forget about the time and place, and all of our attention is thrown onto those eyes of Joan, loaded to brim with a sorrow for where she is, but an un-questionable faith in what she feels about God. I wondered at one point whether Dreyer was making as much a point on people's faiths and prejudices in the almighty, or just one on basic humanity.

There have been many before me who have praised Falconetti's performance to the heavens (Kael called it the finest performance in film), but in a way it almost can't be praised enough. What she achieves here is what Ebert must've felt watching Theron in the recent 'Monster'. I didn't even see her in a performance as Joan of Arc- I saw her as being the embodiment of it, as if Falconetti (with Dreyer's guidance) took Joan out of the pages of the trial transcript and her entire soul took over. There is something in an actor that has to be so compelling, so startling, and indeed so recognizable, that a person can feel empathy and/or sympathy for the person the actor's playing. All a viewer has to do is stare into Falconetti's eyes in any shot, close-up or not, and that viewer may get stirred to boiled-down emotion.

For me, it was almost TOO over-whelming an emotional experience- when Joan is about to get tortured, for example, I found myself completely lost from where I was watching the film, everything in my soul and being was with Joan in that chamber, and for a minute I broke out in tears. That's the kind of effect that Dreyer's craft and all the acting work (including Eugene Sylvain as the Bishop Cauchon, and of course Artaud as Jean) can have on a viewer. I'm not saying it has to, yet The Passion of Joan of Arc could- and should- be considered a milestone in cinematic tragedy, where the images that come streaming forth never leave a viewer, and the detail for time and place becomes just that, a detail for the main stage. Love Joan or hate her, this is for keeps.

Carl Dreyer's "The Passion of Joan of Arc" is a film that feels light years ahead of its time. Lean and mean, focusing its entire narrative on the interrogation of Joan that inevitably lead to her execution by burning at the stake, the film is kinetic in ways that most films even now aren't. Composed almost completely of tight close ups, Dreyer and crew cut rapidly between disconcerting, asymmetrical shots, giving the film a breathless, anxious, nearly frenzied pace.

Maria Falconetti gives an almost unbelievably intense performance as the title heroine. Her performance, and the film in general, does get a bit monotonous -- it exists primarily of impassioned gazes into the middle distance, giant, tearing eyes opened wide, an expression of passionate, nearly demented religious fervor on her face. It's not a film that concerns itself with characters and plot, so we don't get to know Joan as a person. It's difficult to care for her particular plight and we instead feel compassion for her as one human being feeling compassion for another. For that reason, the film left me remembering its striking images and formal style more than any emotions I might have felt while watching it. But it's no less of a remarkable cinematic achievement for that.

Grade: A

One of the last great silent films made during the advent of sound, Carl-Theodor Dreyer's The Passion of Joan of Arc is a haunting, riveting portrait of the historical martyr based on documentation from the original trial. Focusing primarily on the series of courtroom examinations that doomed the young warrior, the film gloriously employs vivid close-ups to accentuate the ordinariness (while at the same time exaggerating the most grotesque qualities) of Joan's inquisitors. Maria Falconetti is unforgettable as Joan, perfectly distilling the pain, terror, and saintliness required by what is probably one of the most demanding roles an actor could attempt. The consequence of Joan's conviction -- her burning at the stake -- allows Dreyer to hammer home his exquisite visual motif balancing erotic corporeality with transcendent spirituality.

I saw this film for the very first time last week and was so tremendously captivated by it that I needed to share this rapture. The innovative camera-angles, the close-ups revealing pain and spirituality. It elevates the human condition and the Art of film. I would love to be able to go on into the whys or hows or technicalities. But my words couldn't do the film justice for the imagery still overwhelms me.

This film almost leads one to believe that sound betrays the emotion the eyes capture. Just as the blind develop hearing far better than the average, the deaf develop a keen sense of sight. I am convinced that a lack of dialogue forces us to read the language of the face and body, a verbage unmatched in beauty and nuance. Though the accompanying musical piece (be careful not to identify it as a score), so deliciously inspired by the film, enhances the visual playground; it is the actors' faces that comprise this tour de force. Ms. Falconetti shifts from worry and doubt to unabashed conviction in a single shot, giving the viewer the luck of seeing one's thoughts in progress. She needs no response to the interrogation, it's all in her face. Renee is not superficially beautiful and the lack of make-up only reinforces how bare Joan is, but it is the uncanny ability of an incomparable stage actor to be a window into the soul that makes her so stunning, for the soul we see is one we only wish to attain for ourselves. The Church sees what we see, and they respond just as clearly to her unspoken protest with vehement pomp. The cinematography is so astounding for its time no comment could ever do it justice. Though many comments can be made, and are, surrounding the inspiration and detail for the set, it is at its core an incredible gift from Dreyer to the actors meant to inspire. It plays little part in the film, but to pull an inconceivable last drop of reality from the actors. A testament I can imagine will never be matched to the incredible power of silence.