The Passion of Joan of Arc

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"The Passion of Joan of Arc" (1928) by Carl Theodor Dreyer is simply one of the greatest films ever - silent or no silent and what considered by many critics, the greatest performance by any actress on the screen. Renee Maria Falconetti, a French stage performer, was persuaded by Dreyer to play the Maid of Orleans even though she had no film experience. From her very first shot, we can understand what a visionary Dreyer was. The director asked the actress to crop her hair and to strip her face of any makeup. Filmed mostly in close-up, the agonized face of Falconetti's Jean, free of all cosmetic artifice, appears more moving and human, and expresses so many emotions that it literally stays in a viewer's soul. A German designer Herman Warm ("The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari" and "The Tree Lights") constructed the austere sets for the film; the photography of Rudolph Mater also contributed to the films universal power. The composer Richard Einhorn wrote in 1989 the composition "Voices of Light" which is included in VHS that I saw and effectively enhances Dreyer's impressive images. With all that said, I couldn't help quoting Ingmar Bergman who said once, "The human face is the great subject of the cinema. Everything is there". Faces tell the tale of the Maid of Orleans in this movie, and above all, one unforgettable face - that of Renee Falconetti in her only film appearance.

*Note: This a review of the Criterion Edition DVD with the "Voices of Light" accompaniment. Over the decades Dreyer's film was a victim of religious and politic censors, two fires that destroyed valuable prints, unauthorized cuts, and zealous editors working against his wishes to modernize the film. An original, uncensored cut was found miraculously in a Norwegian hospital for the mentally ill (ironic?) in 1981 and fully restored for the Criterion Collection. Famed composer Richard Einhorn created his libretto, "Voices of Light", in response to his own experiences viewing the film and researching the history of Joan of Arc. The film can be viewed with or without the accompaniment, though I can't imagine Dreyer would've objected as Einhorn with great care honored the spirit of the film and arguably of Saint Joan with his compositions. Carl Dreyer's silent film, "The Passion of Joan of Arc", is a shocking example of the potential of film as art. No amount of scholarly critique can account for the raw power in viewing the film. It's one of those rare experiences that can only be seen to be understood. Dreyer's meticulously crafted aesthetics (the film is almost entirely composed of close-ups of the actors' faces) are perfectly married to the gut wrenching performance of Maria Falconetti (a theater star who never acted in another film) in the lead role. I think Dreyer was most accurate in describing her performance as nothing short of "the martyr's reincarnation." One need not be religious to understand what is meant or to feel for Joan as portrayed so humanely and exquisitely by Falconetti. Her face is beyond the realm of haunting, and Dreyer seers it into the audience's memory along with other stunning imagery like a window frame's shadow turning into a cross on the floor, worms crawling through a skull unearthed from a freshly dug grave, or a bored executioner barely able to hold up his head in the company of his torture devices. And then there's the burning at the stake and the brutal suppression of the peasant riot--unimaginable horrors rendered so beautifully and hyper realized onto a series of moving images projected onto a blank screen. The genius of Dreyer's visuals and Falconetti's performance is that they create a deep psychological complexity that can engage a modern viewer on multiple levels. In their bold suggestions and through the artistic integrity of their respective crafts, Dreyer and Falconetti leave it to their audience (weather it be a French nation still celebrating and mythologizing their 15th century hero Joan a mere eight years after her canonization in 1920 or a more skeptical 21st scholar studying the history of film) to decide the veracity of Joan's convictions. Was Joan truly a mystic, a martyr, a saint? Or was she simply mad and the unfortunate victim of the time period in which she lived and died? Either way, she is presented here as human. And in relating to her, one thing is for sure: the mysticism of film was realized by the Dane Carl Dreyer and Maria Falconetti in the year 1928 with "The Passion of Joan of Arc."

I'm not sure what's more overwhelming in this film: the incredible cinematography, the phenomenal acting, the stupendous soundtrack, the fact it was made in 1928 and has stood the test of time so well or the despicable, unspeakable, hideous evil perpetrated by those in authority in the name of?

With Danish director, Carl Dreyer clearly going against the grain here in direct defiance of glamour and beauty - I'd say that as a perceptive film-maker - He was also something of a sadist to deliberately drag his audience through such an unpleasant religious-based hell as this. I mean - What an absolutely damning statement about the hypocrisy of Christianity this film's story inevitably made. Now 90 years old - This hideously bleak freakshow of stark, barren sets and unflattering close-ups sort of reminded me (in an odd way) of David Lynch's "Eraserhead". For me - The undeniably best moment in this truly unpleasant, yet strangely compelling, cinematic experience was, of course, Joan's tear-filled head-shaving scene. I think it's interesting to note that actress, Renee Falconetti (who played the Joan character) said that she never understood all of the positive reaction to her performance.

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.

I would be hardpressed to exclude this film from a list of the ten greatest films of all time. Every remaining frame of this once heavily censored film is perfect, and there are many shocking scenes of torture which are hard to watch even today. This should be required viewing for anyone interested in film history, and it's further proof of the superiority of European silent cinema over it's American counterpart.

After years of hearing this film praised to the skies, I finally got to see this last night, thanks to our buddies at TCM. For the benefit of you budding actors, the following is a blow-by-blow account of Maria Falconetti's portrayal of Joan of Arc, considered by many critics to be the greatest performance in the history of film: Goes into Pop-My-Eyes-Out-of-My-Sockets Mode. Then cries. Goes into I'm-Feeling-Sorry-for-Myself Mode. Then cries. Goes into Lomotomized Zombie Mode. Then cries. Goes into Bobbing Head Doll Mode. Then cries. Repeats modes like a broken record. Then cries. A lot. Joan of Arc was a female George Patton, someone who knew how to kick ass and take names. Falconetti's Joan is a blubbering wack job no one would follow into a pillow fight! Oddly, the only time Falconetti stops the blubbering wack job bit is when Joan is about to be burnt to a crisp. The ending is a stupefying orgy of violence and bizarre camera angles. There is even a shot of a baby nursing, complete with full-frontal boobie! And the guy in the Mountie get-up lording over Joan's execution is a hoot! Where I can score some of that crack Carl Theodor Dreyer was smoking?