•
Rating: I never thought I would one day be able to say that my favorite movie would be made at the end of the 1920s.
Since I was a child, I have always disliked black and white, partly because of my old and small TV, which had only the yellow plastic it was covered in as its colorful aspect.
Just as I was accustomed to think of works without sound and, in general, those of that period as anachronistic films of no interest with clumsy interpretations, light years away from the greatness and devastating impact given by the special effects of American cinematography with its blockbusters like "Gladiator" or, better yet, the "Passion of Christ" by Mel Gibson.
Indeed, the viewing of the latter made me believe that the suffering of a human being had never been reproduced on celluloid in such a raw and real way.
I was deeply mistaken.
"The Passion of Joan of Arc", directed by the master Carl Theodor Dreyer, is none other than a masterpiece, as well as the most beautiful film I have ever seen in my humble existence.
It is said that the original film was initially destroyed by fire, then reassembled with its cuts until a copy of the original was found in a Norwegian asylum in the early '80s.
One can well understand that a work that comes to us in this way can only be endowed with a supernatural charm and strength.
Think, for example, of how many trials the "Last Supper" had to go through in its centenary history.
The awareness that a work of art had to endure its own "passion" to still be admired by all of us today can only increase its value and make it immortal.
Dreyer shows us in all its drama, the physical, psychic, and spiritual pain, and he does so through a series of close-up sequences that imprint on the viewer's memory the greatest female interpretation of all time, that of Renée Falconetti.
The Maid of Orleans is mocked, humiliated, tortured.
Some scenes are so shocking that they make the copious bloodshed of Gibson's Christ pale in comparison.
One of the most striking aspects of the film is the incredible expressive power of the actors' faces.
Think of Joan's face, marked by the alternation between the ecstatic phase that gives her the courage to continue having faith in the Lord and the phase in which, so to speak, she humanizes, almost giving in to the petty attempts made by the ecclesiastical tormentors to make her recant and thus save her life.
Just as the corruption and perfidy of the "merciful Church" is depicted through the resentful, angry, and mocking faces of its members.
But the truth cannot be hidden from the eyes of the people who will recognize, following her tragic end, the sanctity of their most illustrious compatriot.
One cannot remain impassive at the sight of the opus of the Danish director.
I am, therefore, convinced that the film will open the hearts and, thus, move even the most skeptical, just as one cannot help but be moved by the majesty of the Last Supper.
Loading comments slowly
