Calvary (2014) ***/*****
The opening scene of writer/director John Michael McDonagh’s (The Guard) new film, Calvary, is a doozy — the filmic equivalent of that attention-grabbing sentence your teachers would always tell you that your essays had to start with in school. Father James (Brendan Gleeson), the priest of a rural Irish church, takes Sunday confession. What must be a familiar routine at this point in his life suddenly becomes anything but when the confessor on the other side of the booth begins by telling a tale of a childhood shattered by sexual abuse at the hands of another priest, and then goes on to explain that, in order to make a statement, he’s going to kill Father James, a good priest, and he’s going to do it exactly one week from when their conversation ends, which gives our protagonist ample time to get his affairs in order. The man’s threat is measured, confident, and both the viewer and Father James have no doubt that it’s for real. That means the film we’re watching is a detailing of the events of what is very likely going to be the last week of the lead’s life.
Calvary is a unique blending of a couple different movie genres that’s largely made up of equal parts character study and murder mystery. Over the course of the week we meet the various characters who populate Father James’ hometown, each of which who are suspicious in their own unique way, which means that each of which could possibly be the shadowy would-be murderer, despite the fact that they all have problems James needs to listen to and help with nonetheless. James doesn’t spend his week actively trying to solve the mystery of who’s trying to kill him — that’s work that’s left to the audience. Instead, he mostly just goes about performing his usual routine, doing his best to serve the people of his parish, and as we watch him do so we slowly begin to learn more and more about who he is as a man. Which, when you’re dealing with a character this layered, who’s being played by an actor as wildly talented as Gleeson, ends up being a lot more fun than it might sound at first.
Gleeson is often used as a character actor, one of those guys with the interesting faces and the soulful eyes who usually gets smaller parts as the villain or the friend in big Hollywood movies, but, as is the case with many other character actors, he’s also a trained veteran of the stage, and is capable of handling a larger dramatic load than supporting roles give him. McDonagh’s last film and this one have afforded him the opportunity to flex his muscles in a lead role, however, and the results have been just as satisfying as his great work in stuff like Braveheart, In Bruges, and the Harry Potter movies have led us to believe they could be. Gleeson is subtle and understated as Father James, but always with enough pain in his eyes and emotion boiling beneath the surface of his face that you know he must have a past that doesn’t resemble his present, and that eventually he’s going to experience an emotional break thanks to all of the life and death pressure that’s now pressing down on him. The big reason to watch Calvary is that it gives you an opportunity to observe a craftsman as skilled as Gleeson as he goes to work.
He’s well supported by the rest of the cast though, so I guess you can go as far as to say that the acting is a selling point overall. The Wire and Game of Thrones’ Aidan Gillen shows up in the role of the town’s cocky, contentious doctor, and he puts his usual snide, slightly sleazy persona to good use. Chris O’Dowd changes things up a bit, trading in his usual scruffy though lovable archetype in order to play a pathetic sort of character who may be a wife beater and is certainly living as a cuckold, and he proves himself to have real range as a performer in the role. Kelly Reilly, who American audiences might recognize from things like Flight and Sherlock Holmes, plays Father James’ depressive daughter, and not only does she have something of an ethereal quality about her that makes her fascinating to watch, she also lends the film a welcome touch of femininity, as it’s most often concerned with traditionally masculine concerns like vengeance, repressed rage, and whiskey (or, they’re at least considered traditional in my family).
The other thing in here that really stood out as being interesting is the film’s portrayal of the modern Catholic Church. After decades of accusations and controversies regarding pedophile priests, and generations of neuroses and guilt being driven into catholics thanks to the church’s glacial pace at embracing social change, there seems to be a great anger that’s built up over time and that’s starting to be directed toward the institution. This film introduces a growing wave of atheism that’s not just resolute in its belief that the church’s doctrine is rooted in bullshit, but that is downright angry at how much power they’ve had over so many people for so many years. In the world of this film, at least, the church is an underdog, in need of re-proving itself to a skeptical populace that wants to see them burnt to the ground. The character of Father James is interesting enough a subject to dig into on his own, especially when he has his own impending death looming over his head, but when you start looking at his position in relation to the currently perilous position of organized religion, both become even more layered and interesting for the comparison.
All of that said, Calvary does have a couple of serious problems that keep it from being a real success. The most serious of which is that the tone changes over the course of the film, which train wrecks key moments of the third act. During the first half of the film the tone is very measured and understated. Even when the characters are discussing matters as serious as a recent suicide attempt, their language is very matter of fact and very Irish, and there are no big emotional displays going on. Everyone is keeping their feelings close to their vests. Then the second half of the film turns on a dime and suddenly becomes full of big music cues and wordy, emotional monologues, and not only is the transition between the two tones less than seamless, there are even a few moments where it feels like you’re watching a different movie entirely.
The murder mystery element doesn’t completely work either. If anything, it forces a lot of Father James’ interactions with the townsfolk to be falsely contentious, so that red herrings can be created, and you get the impression that the character interactions could have been more honest and interesting if the question of who the potential killer is didn’t have to hang in the air throughout the entire movie. Really, with all of the animosity that already exists within the relationships these broken people (infants) have with their town preacher (father figure), the threat of murder probably wasn’t needed in order to keep the stakes high anyway.
So Calvary doesn’t stick its landing, and it doesn’t end up being as good a film as it looked like it was going to be early on. But it does have a lot of great stuff going on in it that’s worth anyone who’s a fan of film’s time anyway. We’ve already talked about how great Gleeson is as the lead, but McDonagh proves that he’s no slouch in the director’s chair either. The places he puts his camera are measured and always offer up a pointed perspective. He experiments with a color palette that gives the town that serves as his subject an almost mythical feel. There’s style on display here, alongside depth and intelligence, and it makes one excited for whatever project he’s going to oversee next, even though this one is a series of great parts that don’t quite add up to an equally great sum.
