When my friend suggested we go to see Calvary, the Irish-British film written and directed by John Michael McDonagh, I wasn't particularly keen. I'm not a huge fan of black comedies- I think it is a very delicate balance that rarely works (although when it does, such as Martin McDonagh's In Bruge, the results are spectacular). My fears were unfounded; Calvary is the best film I've seen this year. A soulful, dark and profoundly affecting piece of cinema.
Calvary focuses on Father James Lavelle (played by Brendan Gleeson, who gives the performance of his career), a 'good' priest intent on making the world better. The film opens with a parishioner threatening his life during confession, announcing that he will kill Father James the next Sunday. Why? The anonymous parishioner (who stays this way right till the film's denouement) was repeatedly abused by a Catholic priest as a choir boy, and sees Father James as a symbol for the corruption and evil of the Catholic church. Despite certain black comedy elements in the film, it is mostly a thoughtful and tragic drama that explores a heavy topic incredibly well, as the sins of the church become a metaphor for the sins of the humanity in general. Father James' community in County Sligo are spiteful, faithless, lost; the damned. As we travel through the town on the rugged coast of Western Ireland, we see the chaotic tragedy playing out every day; the suicidal, idle business man, the dying American writer, the abused housewife, the emasculated butcher, Father James' own emotionally damaged daughter, and my personal favourite, the soulless doctor played by Aidan Gillen ("The atheistic doctor; it's a cliched role," he shrugs, in the film's self-referential style "There aren't that many good lines").
Each character is so well thought out they become real people, so much so that I think it would make a fantastic ensemble TV series. McDonagh is also incredibly talented at establishing a sense of place. You feel you are there, amongst the sparse green hills and grey skies, drowning with them in the bleak, smothering atmosphere of profound tragedy that infects the whole film.
Despite the elements of realism that come from the thoroughly realized characters and settings, there is also a wonderful art house quality to this film due to its brilliant cinematography. Some of the shots are breath taking, especially one scene where the church is burning, the characters silent, framed silhouettes in the foreground. "Why did nobody see it?!" cries Father James, in a very effective, barely veiled reference to the Catholic Church's sexual abuse.
The visual style, combined with the outlandish characters and the playful, self-referential language make Calvary increasingly theatrical, reminding me of Jacobean Revenge Tragedies, a play with a play, everyone aware their parts are already written, unable to escape. This is never more clear than when Father James attempts to get on a flight to Dublin, and realises that he can't. He knows, as we know, that his fate is inevitable; the modern Christ figure going to his death, aware of the identity killer, and accepting it in an act of self-sacrifice. After the overtly dramatic (and, it has to be said, sometimes slightly jarring) denouement, the ending feels mostly hollow, as it should. As with the Revenge Tragedies, there is no deeper spiritual meaning to the protagonist's death due to the ultimate emptiness, and artificiality, of life. And yet the ending is beautifully poignant, as you see Father James' daughter picking up the phone in prison to talk to his tearful killer, suggesting a moment of forgiveness. The priest's words ring in your ears: "There's too much talk about sins and not enough about virtues". If you look at it that way, maybe life isn't so hollow after all.
