Review: Calvary

Directed by John Michael McDonagh

Starring Brendan Gleeson (Father James Lavelle) and Kelly Reilly (Fiona Lavelle)

Written by John Michael McDonagh

Cinematography by Larry Smith

Edited by Chris Gill

Released in 2014

Calvary is an anti-thriller. It begins with a scene of confrontation: Father James Lavelle is performing confessional and the confessor informs him that he will be murdered in one week as retribution for past sins done to the confessor by another priest. Why? Simply because Father Lavelle is a “good priest” and his death will make a statement. The camera stays firmly on Gleeson’s face during this scene. Only the confessor’s voice is heard, and the Father doesn’t leave the booth to determine who it belongs to.  Instead of becoming a religious-themed mystery film, Calvary immediately undercuts that source of tension when Lavelle states he knows who the stranger is and that he won’t be informing the police. The film then follows him as he goes about his possibly last week meeting with the members of his community and taking care of his adult daughter, who is emotionally raw after an attempted suicide. I suppose some tension is generated from the gap between Lavelle’s knowledge and our own, and the guessing game of which character will end up being the murderer. However, I don’t think Calvary works on that level either. There’s more a steadily mounting sense of dread as the week continues, Lavelle slowly unravels, and the townspeople act out more. This dread is further heightened by The Shining-esque use of the weekday titles.

Lavelle is one of the few positive portrayals of a religious leader I’ve seen. In his review, Glen Kenny points out that you would probably have to go all the way back to 1954’s On the Waterfront to find a similar character. As played by Gleeson, he’s more half-priest, half-detective, and half-guidance counselor than bible-thumper or evangelist. Most importantly, he’s all human. By the time we catch up with him, Lavelle has reached a good balance in his life, but it’s clear from his weathered appearance, conversations with his daughter, and his slightly exasperated manner around his flock, that the struggle for said balance was long and hard fought. Lavelle’s rough serenity has a strange effect on those around him. The various denizens of Sligo County seem agitated by his mere presence. As if his faith is a silent slap-in-the-face to their existence. Despite the fact that he is non-judgmental and is more concerned with his community’s well-being than their beliefs. Even the inciting incident of the film can be seen as an extreme example of this response.

McDonagh’s film engages head-on with thorny religious issues, without offering any pat or easy answers. McDonagh could not have predicted the recent string of movies By-Christians, For-Christians during the making of Calvary, but his film is the perfect antidote to the declarative nature of Heaven is for Real and God’s Not Dead. The idea of forgiveness, for bankers, for murderers, for suicides victims, for priests, is approached from all possible angles. The film even deals with the recent financial crisis, which is still ongoing in Ireland. That same willingness to tackle said issues sometimes results in rough dialogue and a few characters come close to being caricatures. That’s a small complaint though, and the spoonfuls of black comedy sugar help sell the medicine of the messaging. Also, the film anchors itself around the touching relationship between Lavelle and his daughter, grounding it whenever it threatens to veer too far away from reality.

The Sligo of Calvary has an odd texture to it. The rolling green hills, ancient ruins, and beaches are beautiful, but there’s something moody about them as well. The town is frequently overcast and the waters are constantly churning, crashing ominously into the black, rocky shoreline. It’s as if the landscape is sensing a tragedy is about to happen and responding appropriately.