BFI Top 50: The Passion of Joan of Arc, Released in 1928, Directed by Carl Th. Dreyer

What I know going in

That the film is based on the final days of Joan of Arc’s life, obviously, and is famous for breaking basic continuity editing and for Falconetti’scommited performance.

 

Immediate reaction

The Passion of Joan of Arcis giant “fuck you” to the concept of continuity editing. Almost every cut and shot in the film is jarring and confronting. Characters are frequently photographed with the camera either looking down or above at them. This creates the feeling that they are judging, or being judged, by each other, by the viewer, and by God himself. Extreme close-ups are used to emphasize the outrage of the outsized emotion of the judges and the pain and confusion of Joan. Falconetti gives possibly the most committed, physical performance I have seen in a non-comedic silent film. She moves wildly from crying, wild-eyed expressions, and moments of serenity. By the end of the film she has released, and been covered in, multiple kinds of bodily fluid. Her big-ol’-eyes, slight moon face, and short hair make her look like some crazy combination of cult leader, feral child, and saint.

 

Dreyer pastes everything together for maximum impact. I’d say at least 60% of the film is composed of close-ups, with everyone dressed and lit for maximum grotesqueness. Speaking of, he frequently focuses instruments of death and torture, Joan’s attempted torture is a particular highlight of the film, and elements of the macabre such as flies and skulls, with worms wriggling inside it to boot. The scenes that feature multiple people in the same frame are typically staged to contain multiple plains of action, which kept me engaged trying to keep with everything. In addition, mid-shot-style scenes are lit where the foreground seems overly dark, and the background, both the interiors of the prison (which seems weirdly blank) and the exteriors, seem blindingly white. Even the “action” scenes of the peasants gathering and revolting at the end, are completely disorientating, with Dreyer filming the event directly above and below the action and whipping wildly around.

 

All of these elements combine to make The Passion of Joan of Arc a singular experience. It was released in 1928, but it feels, at its core, so very different in its technique than every other silent I’ve seen,that part of me has a hard time believing that fact. I suppose I could the opposite way and say the film feels “modern” but that doesn’t necessarily sound right to me either. I’m sure I’ve seen films that utilize elements of the film’s technique; Persona comes immediately to mind, but nothing that uses them in such a sustained, heightened manner. It feels like a film out of time, like if you time traveled a bunch of film equipment back to Joan’s actual trial and told someone to start filming.

 

I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the score. Richard Einhorn’s “Voices of Light” piece for the film, transforms it into a transcendent experience. Due to Dreyer and Einhorn’s compositions, The Passion of Joan of Arc is one of those “big” films, like 2001: A Space Odyssey or Apocalypse Now, where all you want to do after watching it is to just sit in silence, quietly reflecting on what you just saw.

 

Further thoughts

I would like to talk about something outside of the film for a moment. When I do these “further thoughts” sections, it’s after I’ve read about 10 or so articles about the film under discussion. This is usually isn’t a problem, I love reading others’ thoughts on film and it usually increases my understanding of said film. However, for JOA I got a bit fatigued during my review marathon. At a certain point, I got tired of reading how great Falconetti’s performance was, how radical Dreyer’s close-ups were, and how amazing the story of the film’s restoration was. I’m not even really complaining, it would probably not to mention at least those first two things when discussing JOA, and, if anything, it’s a testament to Dreyer’s greatness that those elements are always discussed, but the repetition did get a little annoying after a while.

 

Anyway, there is plenty that I didn’t mention after my initial watch. For one, Falconetti has, objectively, the greatest eyes in all of cinema history. If nothing else from the film has stuck with a year from now, her various looks will. If eyes are the window to the soul, then Falconetti’s are bay windows overlooking an infinite spiritual abyss. Replaying the film in my head, I keep getting freaked out whenever I picture Falconetti opening her eyes. It’s like I’m going to fall in to them and come face-to-face to God himself.

 

Strangely, it’s the tiny details from JOA that I find are sticking with me. Maybe it’s not the big of a surprise since the film is composed of entirely close-ups (of face, body parts, inanimate objects). However, a few stick out more than others. One of my favorites is the shot of Joan’s bare toes curling around a stone step. Its’ a tiny detail, and could probably be removed without affecting the film, but it speaks volumes about the hell Joan has been through up to that point. There is also the isolating shot of Joan’s handmade crown, sitting by itself on the cold stone, before it gets swept away. The last symbol of her own will gets brusquely taken away from her. It also reminds her of her conviction and kicks off the last act of the film.

 

Why is the film on this list?

Seen in any decade, Dreyer’s film would appear to break all the rules of whatever contemporaneous cinema had to offer. The fact that it is so viscerally powerful, and not at all esoteric or hard to understand, makes it one of the greatest films of all time.