Jerzy Kawalerowicz 1961 Poland
Starring: Lucyna Winnicka, Mieczyslaw Voit, Anna Ciepielewska, Franciszek Pieczka, Jerzy Kaczmarek
Jerzy Kawalerowicz's Mother Joan Of The Angels was once described to me as "if Ingmar Bergman had directed The Devils" and, while that's not accurate or even particularly helpful a statement, the film does share two things with Ken Russell's work, namely its study of the case of Urbain Grandier and the fact that it's remarkable. The main difference is that, while Russell took Grandier himself as his subject, Kawalerowicz depicts the years following the priest's execution with the still possessed nuns facing an attempt at exorcism by the austere Father Jozef Suryn. Grandier still hangs heavy over the proceedings though, not least in the presence of his children who are now being cared for by a drunken elderly priest. As the film opens we see what looks like a bound man hanging upside down to a soundtrack of muttered oaths and we can't help but think that this could be Grandier midway through another bout of torture, at least until the body moves and the man stands up that is revealing that it was merely a person asleep and shot from above. The man then gives a startled look directly to the camera as if suddenly terrified until the subject of his panic is shown as nothing more than simple nature. The man is later revealed to be Father Jozef and the surroundings an inn he is staying in on his way to the convent. It's an electrifying opening, somehow frightening and innovative even though we don't see much, and what we do see isn't actually that malevolent. Another striking difference is that the 'possession' of the nuns here isn't portrayed as a result of repression and human weakness as in The Devils, instead it's an for the most part entirely legitimate situation with Joan almost immediately affecting an echoing rasp and crawling the walls while other nuns react to holy water by scattering and screeching like starving gulls. Some say their episodes are purely tricks acted out for shock value and Jozef is at first entirely sceptical of their authenticity but the townspeople are not so sure, even attracting interested outsiders who peep through windows and wield rumours like sharpened swords. For her part Joan is shockingly open, claiming to be occupied by no less than eight different demons, all in different parts of her body, and often speaking in their guise. The only untouched inhabitant is Sister Margaret who claims that the demons stay clear of her although quite why is left to our imagination, she appears completely innocent and at one point joins in with the chorus of a bawdy song making it seem like the innocent lullaby of a child but is equally at home with mead and dancing. Contrast is a big thing here, from the priest who doubts the demons' power but flogs himself in contrition with increasing fervour to the juxtaposition between the jet-black hair of Jozef and the pure white habit of Joan (not to mention the typical colours of good and evil being reversed) to the astonishing, ferociously intense face-off between Jozef and a Rabbi (both played with passion and sanctimony by the same actor, Mieczyslaw Voit, who is stunning throughout). Watched as part of a double-bill with Russell's work or as a separate production the film's power is undeniable but unlike The Devils it never veers into exploitation or wanton debauchery instead taking a more stringent, theological tone that's thrilling none the less. As bold a statement as it is I think it's the better of the two as well.
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