Calvary

Calvary

Calvary opens with a quote from Saint Augustine on the screen:

‘Do not despair, one of the thieves was saved.

Do not presume, one of the thieves was damned.’

From here we launch into a film that plays out over seven days in the life of the main character: Roman Catholic priest, Father James. Our priest works in a parish in a small town on the coast of Ireland.

Father James’ flock are, for the most part, a narcissistic, entitled and generally cynical bunch of 21^st century humans with all of the addictions that go with the territory. If there is light in Father James’ life it comes from his faith in God, vocation, daughter (Father James is a widower who answered the call to the priesthood after the death of his wife), some friendships in the town and his dog.

While Father James parishioners are cynical, Father James is not. He is a realist who fulfils his pastoral duties with true vocational commitment. And in the face of constant taunting, verging on abuse, and an almost unrelenting hostility from many in his flock and the town, he displays a compassion and humour-tinged joy for life.

Faced with a harrowing confession and declaration in the opening scene, from a parishioner who was sexually abused by a priest while a child, and a threat of violence to go with that confession, Father James seeks counsel but determinedly goes about his calling.

Our priest performs Mass, visits his parishioners and dances a jig at the local pub. There’s dry humour sprinkled right throughout the film and many of the characters square well with the stereotypical quirky Irish film types we’ve seen in everything from the Commitments to Waking Ned Devine.

Visually we get the grey skies and windy weather of the Irish coast, but there’s also plenty of sunshine and light. The camera captures curtains being blown by the wind at an open window, surfers in and out of the sea and a young painter with an easel at the beach. White is everywhere in contrast to Father James’ black soutane.

Calvary is a confronting film but not necessarily in ways that are obvious. Some of the most challenging scenes are magnified not by violence or abuse but by the look on our characters’ faces. Vulnerability and weakness are emphasised: In the grief of a French tourist whose husband has been killed in a car accident; in the mental fragility of Father James’ daughter; in the existential despair of a local millionaire; in the shallowness of Father James’ bishop and Fathers James’ brother priest, Father Leary; in the sex-driven nihilism of the local butcher’s wife; and in Father James himself.

But hope is never far away either. Father James’ unflinching love for his daughter and her love for him help hold the film together, as does Father James’ friendship with a local novelist. Father James’ refuses to despair and refuses to give up hope.

There is some intense violence in one part of the film which is easy to see coming and the film is peppered with profanity and references to the obscene, often jostling next to scenes that are pastorally beautiful or lovingly vulnerable. Overall a confronting watch, but well worth it.

© The Grumpy Old Dilettante, 2021