1. Reclaiming
(Lisa Stead)
Carl Dreyer's The Passion of Joan if Arc is my favourite film, pretty much bar
none. Although I suspect very concept of a favourite film is in itself a bit
ridiculous -- clearly pinning down what you consider to be the 'best' is a
question anyone who teaches or studies Film or English most likely dislikes
being asked for all the ways in which it we feel it challenges us to say what's
expected, what intellectually defines us and pins our taste down in a single
sentence open to swift judgement. So much so that I always begin seminars with
any new class by asking them to admit to (and revel in) what they consider to
be their most embarrassing pet love, not the obscure art house text they think
will make them look widely viewed, appropriately cultured in obscurity (and
thus potentially that much more attractive to the geekier members of the
opposite sex...).
However, despite this -- turns
out, this IS my favourite film, one that I constantly circle back to and one
that just kind of stays there under your skin. And the reasons why circulate
further around its somewhat romantic exhibition history and status as film
history artefact as much as its excessively beautiful, haunting and emotionally
draining portrayal of faith on trial showcasing one of the greatest and most
obscure performances in cinema.
Dreyer's film, which focuses upon the record of Joan's trial, was equal parts
critically successful to financially disastrous upon its initial release, and
its immediate history saw a series of cuts and mishaps and made the original a
rare and eventually ‘lost’ commodity (the original negative was lost to a
studio fire at UFA). Dreyer's attempted restructuring from a few remaining
original prints was then again lost to fire in 1929 (bad fire times
all round). Since then, the original film was considered lost entire, until,
bizarrely canisters containing the film were found in a cleaning cupboard
mental institution in Oslo in the 1980s. After three years at the Norwegian
Film Institute the reels were finally examined and found to be Dreyer's
original cut.
Reclaimed, frequently screened at film festivals, given a DVD release and now a
part of numerous film syllabuses, the film really does live again in multiple
forms.
What I personally want to flag up in contrast with Carrie's response below is
the influence of the contemporary score commissioned for the reclaimed film--
which has a major influence upon the film is experienced in contrast to the
live accomplishment you will witness with silent screenings at many festivals
and events (a great number of diverse contemplate scores have been written for
the film since the late 1989s, including Live accompaniments by the likes of
Nick cave and Cat power). The power of Richard Einhorn's 1994 oratorio based on
the film entitled "Voices of Light" (available as an optional accompaniment
on the Criterion Collection's DVD release) is rather difficult to put in
to words, but the richness and fullness of the soundscape works in startling
compositions and contrasts with the sparse nature of Dreyer's images, the
intensity of his compositions that blank all else out against the frantic eyes
of Renée Falconetti in the film's relentless succession of
tight, unforgiving close ups as Joan response to each stage of her
interrogation. Watch it with the score, watch it without -- experience it every
way you can, because this is a text that grows and changes each time it's
encountered, and one that carries with it it's bizarre history of reclamation
and restoration that remains just as oddly intoxicating in the overall
experience as the film itself.
2. (Re)viewings
(Carrie Smith)
I recently attended
a screening of The Passion of Joan of Arc at Birmingham Cathedral as part of
the Flatpack Cinema Festival -
http://www.flatpackfestival.org.uk/event/the-passion-of-joan-of-arc/ The film was introduced by Paul
Shallcross, a pianist who had written a score to accompany it. In his
introduction he chose to stress the film’s timelessness. He mentioned that the
sets gesture towards medieval simplicity, yet the soldiers wear helmets which
look similar to those worn in World War One. He also highlighted the brief
incongruent appearance of 1920s plastic spectacles.
Despite the film’s
damning portrayal of the Catholic Church, to watch it in Birmingham
Cathedral felt entirely appropriate. The cathedral’s high vaulted ceilings,
columns, religious paintings etc made you feel that the bishops were about to
enter from stage left. The image of the light through the window creating a
crucifix on the floor of Joan’s cell was echoed in the stained glass window of
the cathedral which was directly behind the screen. The acoustics of the
cathedral meant that the score reverberated around the audience. The walls seemed to lean inwards towards Renée Maria Falconetti’s
expressive face at the centre of the space.
Too often, perhaps, films are confined to being watched in the archives and do not have the
opportunity to be shown in spaces which can add new meaning and relevance. Dreyer’s film about intolerance felt like it was interacting with
modern questions in a real setting and I would applaud Birmingham Cathedral for
agreeing to the screening. It would be wonderful to see more silent films present beyond the archive in a living space and in doing so, able to reach larger audiences.
