Whenever
we see a picturesque Irish village with a curmudgeonly priest we are
conditioned to automatically think quaint little comedy—the kind in which old people
might get naked. This will be a much darker affair. Reuniting with Brendan Gleeson, The Guard helmer John Michael McDonagh
offers a sober meditation on faith, sacrifice, and forgiveness in Calvary, which screens today as part of
this year’s Sundance Film Festival.
Father
James was called to the priesthood late in life, after his divorce. Considered
a good man by those who know him, he is completely innocent of the church’s
abuse scandals. Yet, that is precisely
why a grown victim announces in confessional his intention to kill the
upstanding father. Murdering a compromised
priest simply would not have the same jarring effect as killing Lavelle. With
the one week deadline looming, Lavelle sets out to find the disturbed parishioner
amongst his shockingly jaded flock.
Perhaps
fortuitously, Father James will also have to deal with his twentysomething
daughter, who has come to recuperate from another suicide attempt. They will
have some unusually serious and heartfelt discussions throughout the course of
the film, even though Father James never reveals the death threat hanging over
his head. However, McDonagh does not use the confessional seal as a thriller
device. Since the mystery man never asks for absolution, Father James is free
to seek the counsel of his bishop and the local dodgy police inspector. Yet, for various reasons, Father James is determined
to handle the matter personally.
Given
the title and the clock ticking down to Sunday, the symbolism of Calvary is almost crushing at
times. Nonetheless, its exploration of
religious conviction is exceptionally mature and thoughtful. Father James is a good man, but hardly a
saint. In contrast, the village is
almost shockingly contemptuous of his relative virtue. If the Church’s
problematic response to the notorious rash of abuse scandals is the lighter
fluid that ignites Calvary, the moral
bankruptcy of the increasingly agnostic village is the kindling that keeps it
ablaze.
Throughout
the film, Brendan Gleeson is pretty much perfect as Father James, delivering gruff
one-liners, while facing a series almost Biblical trials with palpable dignity
and resolution. It is a salty yet mostly
understated turn that might represent a career pinnacle. Likewise, Kelly Reilly
is absolutely devastating in her big scenes as his daughter. They are backed up by a diverse supporting cast,
including the likes of M. Emmet Walsh and Orla O’Rourke, who always convincingly
look and act like members of the dysfunctional provincial community.