Maria Falconetti gives the single best female performance that I have ever seen playing the French heroine Joan of Arc, who helped drive the English out of France, inspired by God. This is no film about her military exploits, but rather the story of her trial as a heretic and her eventual burning at the stake. We are left to ponder if she was really the Daughter of God sent to deliver the French from the tightening coils of their Britannic invaders, or if she was simply an illiterate, 19-year-old peasant who heard voices all in her head. I, personally, am of the belief that she was schizophrenic, but Falconetti almost makes a true believer out of me.
As it is a silent film, this is true testament to the power of the actor. All is stripped down and bare for us to see, and has none of the glitz or pantomime that one would generally find in a movie without words. Director Carl T. Dreyer played against convention by simply making this a character study, focusing on Joan with an intensity that swallows up the rest of the film. Falconetti wore no makeup, had simply dress and a cropped haircut that left nothing but the actress to look at.
I am an actor. Watching this for the first time some three or four years ago, I was stunned at what she could do with just her eyes. They are crystals containing all that is Joan, and every emotion streams out of them with utter purity. Dreyer brilliantly composed most of the film almost entirely with medium or close-up shots, blocking out the rest of the scene so we may see every thought in Joan's face, every feeling in her heart. There is no doctoring, only brilliant acting.
In the face of countless priests and judges preparing to condemn her--not her actions as a woman in the army, but because of her firm belief that she spoke with the angel Michael--we see only one frightened girl who contains her love of God. Her piety and devotion makes them waver in their sentencing, but history has already informed us of her fate. Dreyer portrays her as a martyr, and she is a beautiful one, humiliated though she is.
The script is as lyrical as the movie itself, with grand themes about the nature of God and religion. It is thematic in its very being--a film that practically demands that a choir of boys sing in thunderous harmony behind it. It commands our focus, for as Joan nears ever closer to her final end, shaved and abused, we realize that God is saving her from her prison. It is not a constructed jail, made of bricks and metal chains, but her body. Her mortal prison is the flesh she inhabits, and her stake is burned with the fire of the Lord.
Dreyer spent enormous amounts in constructing huge, lavish sets for the production, but on seeing the true powers of the unknown Falconetti he barely used them, instead delivering to us nothing more than a woman possessed by an historic ghost. The performance is as close to perfection as one can achieve, and Dreyer's sharp directing makes sure that the film as a whole equals her might. This is one of my all-time favorite movies and a must-see for those of you who can truly appreciate what it means to give oneself over to a role.
4/4
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