Three years ago I talked about a great Irish movie called The Guard from 2011. 2014’s Calvary is a spiritual sequel to that film, however this one is not one to watch on St. Patrick’s Day. But I’d already committed to the idea of reviewing an Irish movie for the occasion, and I’ve sung Song of the Sea’s praises enough, so what the hell?
This film was written and directed by John Michael McDonagh, and if that name sounds familiar, it’s probably because his younger brother Martin has been getting a lot of attention recent for his latest movie, Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri. Calvary is definitely his brothers’ Three Billboards. Though there are fragments of the comedic tone of The Guard, this film is much more grim in its dealings with harsh subject matter. But through this, there’s a very particular message being imparted, and one that I think succeeds wholeheartedly.
Set along the coast of County Sligo, Father James (Brendan Gleeson) is told during confessional the harrowing account of a man who’d been brutally molested by a priest as a child. The parishioner tells James that he’s going to kill him to atone for this, reasoning the death of a good priest will have a larger impact -but that he’ll give him a week to set his affairs in order. So Father James spends that week doing just that: interacting with the most troubled people in the community as he reflects on faith and his role as a priest.
One thing I really like is that the movie never pretends to be a mystery. Even if you don’t know his prior work, it’s pretty obvious from the voice who the would-be murderer is. And when he does reveal himself on the beach at the climax (as though he’s Death himself in The Seventh Seal), it’s not played as anything surprising. McDonagh knows the audience knows this and he doesn’t care, because the focus isn’t meant to be the threat as much as the actions it effects in James. You might ask why he doesn’t just call the police, and the movie makes clear early on he has that option. But he doesn’t, for reasons left open. It’s clear he has a lot of regret in his own life and perhaps showing concern for the people of his parish is his way of compensating for that. He talks to people contemplating suicide, dealing with depression, anger and confusion, remorse over heinous actions, and in one case even tender closure. Through all this he’s also reconnecting with his daughter (Kelly Reilly) who’d attempted suicide out of the emotional void left by her mothers’ death and her father subsequently joining the priesthood. But while there is an optimism in James’ virtues and attempts to reach out, Calvary is not a feel-good movie. Even though long stretches of the film don’t address it, the cloud of Catholic sexual abuse hangs over the film. And this movie pulls no punches, right from the disturbing statement of an opening line that you can’t forget, as much as you want to. Indeed, the movie’s visceral, and the great writing has a striking explicit current to it. It touches a lot, sometimes subtly, sometimes overtly, on purveying modern attitudes towards the Catholic Church, effected in part because of these scandals, even in such a historically Catholic place as Ireland. One of James’ conflicts is rationalizing the reputation of the institution he represents with his personal convictions. And he faces this several times in the movie, whether it’s someone challenging Catholic doctrine to his face, or a parent reacting with horror to him talking to their young child.
Calvary is certainly a movie to watch if you need convincing that Brendan Gleeson is one of the great actors working today. He was utterly fantastic in The Guard, and here he’s even better. He gives an unabashedly human performance, which you don’t often see in priest characters. And given this movie is entirely character-driven, resting on Gleeson’s shoulders, and is engaging throughout, it’s all the more unbelievable he didn’t get more acclaim for it. Father James is, as the man in the confessional notes, a good man, something far more important than being a good priest. But he’ll acknowledge he can be judgemental, such as in one scene where he outlines his cynical view on people who decide to join the military, even though the person he’s speaking to is providing that as his only option other than suicide. Despite being a priest expected to comfort, James is honest with people, calling one man out on the real, selfish reason he asked to speak with him; and he doesn’t shy away from criticizing people’s choices. He has an animosity towards another priest staying with him, and in one scene, he’s seen to get drunk and lash out. He’s aware of his failings though, and has a genuine desire to help, as much as he may not know how. And even with just a week left to live, dotted with hostile displays of what’s coming, he still strives to do good. It’s an honest portrayal of what a priest should be, one who can recognize the faults in themselves and others, and seek to assuage those transgressions. For anyone in a position of moral or ethical guidance, having a genuinely good heart is the most important thing.
Kelly Reilly’s really good as James’ daughter Fiona, playing the distance but civility in their relationship well. The supporting cast is expectedly filled with well-known Irish actors. Chris O’Dowd plays the local butcher accused of having beaten his wife Veronica (Orla O’Rourke) for having an affair with Ivorian immigrant Simon (Isaach de Bankolé). Dylan Moran plays a rich landowner in some emotional straits, exactly who Bernard Black would be if he were wealthy; and M. Emmet Walsh even has a role as an ageing American writer. Aidan Gillen plays a doctor who’s the worst kind of atheist, and also a bit of a psychopath. Marie Josée-Croze is pretty good as a grieving widow passing through. David Wilmot, and Pat Shortt appear as as James’ house guest and the bartender respectively; and Domhnall Gleeson plays an imprisoned serial killer whom James had known as a child. The two Gleesons in fact share one of the most tense scenes in the movie.
Compared to McDonagh’s previous film, Calvary is more serious and ambitious. It’s also more pretentious, which is notable in the editing, lush cinematography, and the semi-ambiguous ending especially. The downplayed humour factors into this as well. The movie certainly has much in common with Three Billboards, but doesn’t quite mesh the humour and drama as deftly as that later film. Most of the jokes and sarcastic dialogue don’t enhance the mood, and once in a while detract slightly from the gravity of a moment. To it’s credit, this film isn’t trying to be the comedy The Guard was, so there isn’t a heavy focus on it, and a degree of levity is needed for this kind of subject matter to be more than just depressing. There are definitely stylistic choices in place just for the sake of it, but they don’t hurt the film much. In addition, there’s a great message that leaves it not entirely pessimistic. I especially love James’ last exchange with Fiona before confronting his murderer.
Calvary is probably John Michael McDonagh best film, even if The Guard is more eminently accessible. It’s got tough moments but also an interesting premise to convey. It’s theme on the vocation of priests in the modern age is one that’s relevant and refreshing when it’s often tempting to be cynical. But it succeeds most at being a nuanced character journey of a very relatable clergyman struggling to right his community before meeting his fate with open arms. And it’s Brendan Gleeson’s greatest performance to date. Not a great movie to watch for a celebratory environment of Irish culture, but a great movie to watch otherwise.
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