MOTHER JOAN OF THE ANGELS. Jaw-dropping masterpiece

In Mother Joan of the Angels, the visual layer plays a particularly significant role in the reception of the film. This non-verbal language of the cinematic world is crucial for its interpretation, and it cannot be denied that this film, in particular, demanded digital refreshment. Considering its specific subject matter, it could be ironically said that it would be a sin to omit the digitally restored, meticulously detailed cinematography by Jerzy Wójcik. It is worth mentioning that he supervised the visual aspect during the reconstruction process. Surely, anyone who appreciates Mother Joan of the Angels doesn’t need much convincing to revisit this work in its new, preserved, digital quality.

The film Mother Joan of the Angels is an adaptation of a story by Jarosław Iwaszkiewicz, published in 1946. However, it should be added that the screenplay was authored not only by Jerzy Kawalerowicz but also primarily by Tadeusz Konwicki, an underrated, fantastic filmmaker often associated mainly with literature. The well-known story of the Loudun sisters, translated into the film medium and set in the 17th-century Ludyn on the eastern edges of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, unsurprisingly did not receive a warm reception from church representatives. Between 1957 and 1966, Cardinal Wyszyński announced the Great Novena, preceding the celebrations of the Millennium of the Baptism of Poland. The theme chosen by Kawalerowicz naturally could not meet with approval from the clergy, especially during such an important period for Polish Catholicism. Additionally, the relations between church representatives and the then-government were becoming increasingly tense, and the clergy did not want to allow the free spread of a depiction of a crisis of faith, which could corrupt the Catholic audience. Therefore, it is no surprise that Kawalerowicz’s work was condemned by the church, deemed openly anti-clerical and anti-religious, and placed on the Vatican’s “blacklist” of banned films.

It is also unsurprising that the interpretations of that time were mainly political. Viewers often treated Kawalerowicz’s film as an allegory of totalitarianism, frequently finding in it symbolism related to the tense situation between the state and the church. From a contemporary viewer’s perspective, the aspects related to human nature, the relationships between men and women, and the eternal struggle to reconcile societal expectations with personal needs and desires seem more important than the political connotations. Besides the aspects concerning human nature and the influence of cultural norms on each individual, attention was often drawn to the continuation of reflections on unfulfillable love present in Kawalerowicz’s earlier films like Night Train and The Real End of the Great War.

Kawalerowicz expresses a nostalgic longing for freedom, especially mental freedom, which in a world of strict rules created on the foundation of conservatism, becomes an unattainable desire. However, I would not interpret the director’s postulates in an anti-religious context, as religion and the church are meant to reflect just one of the factors suppressing natural impulses. No area of culture serves better to critique such suppression than one based on strict dogmas and rules forming an undeniable moral code that stifles individuality. The relationship between nature and culture, set within the realm of religious issues, carries a risk of the author portraying complex problems superficially. Therefore, even today, there are accusations that Mother Joan of the Angels is a propaganda film and heavily ideological.

Alleged openly “leftist” postulates I would leave aside, as feminists, whose ideology is largely rooted in Marxism, would certainly not spare the film for its stereotypical portrayal of femininity. In fact, such a boycott of the film took place in an interview with Sylwia Chutnik, published in the March 2011 issue of Wysokie Obcasy. The fact that the film, even over fifty years after its premiere, evokes emotions, completely opposing interpretations, and sparks controversy is undoubtedly its greatest recommendation. I would wish the same for Małgośka Szumowska’s film In the Name of…, which, like Mother Joan of the Angels, aimed to tackle the theme of “religion as a source of suffering.” However, will any of us return to the story of a homosexual priest presented by Szumowska in fifty years?

Binarity

Each character in the world depicted in Mother Joan of the Angels is confined to a social role that is largely a consequence of their past choices. From a contemporary viewer’s perspective, the one-dimensionality of the characters may diminish the substantive value of the story. However, this technique allowed Kawalerowicz to create a world that is universal in its simplicity, reminiscent of a slice of undefined space unaffected by the passage of time through numerous stereotypes. The time setting facilitates viewing this filmic tale in a universal way, and thanks to it, among other things, the problems outlined by the director remain relevant. The binarity of this world is highlighted by the use of black and white. The shadowy inn located in the valley and the monumental monastery on the hill embody the symbolism of good and evil through color (the black inn, the light surrounding the monastery) and position in the frame (up-down). The entire world depicted relies on similar schemas and simplifications. The famous, drying white habits of the nuns, the mother superior Joanna (Lucyna Winnicka) wrapped in white, filmed in opposition to the black-robed priest Suryn (Mieczysław Voit), nuns lying prostrate, shown from a bird’s-eye view, resembling white doves in flight, or the dirty pigs surrounding the inn—all these elements create a world immersed in schemas and stereotypes. However, in black and white, one can also find the way characters perceive the world, based on binary thinking, relying on extremes often leading to fanaticism.

Fanaticism, not only religious, of course, signifies a lack of control over one’s identity, something the director will remind us of primarily through the character of Suryn. The main character, drowning in learned mental schemas and repeated formulas, sees his mission to redeem the world, freeing it from sin. His superiority and pride (particularly evident in the encounter with the rabbi) appear between the lines of prayers repeated like a mantra. Raised in the world of prayers by a devout mother and a nun sister, he never had the opportunity to confront his learned mental schemas with another point of view, another life. Therefore, he will continually try to suppress his natural impulses, believing that physical pain will help him forget his earthly desires. In his first scene, when he encounters the “demonic” inn and its owner, who “accidentally” trips, brazenly exposing her bare neckline to the priest’s face, we see fear and helplessness in his eyes. In confrontation with the real world, Suryn resembles a defenseless child clinging to his naive ideals. His schizophrenic identity first appears directly in the recurring mirror scene and later in a significant conversation with the rabbi, a role also played by Mieczysław Voit. The supposed whiteness of Suryn’s soul gradually darkens like the black robe enveloping him, ultimately standing on the other, demonic side of the mirror, losing himself in the madness of “possession.”

Suryn’s ideological naivety is confronted with the image of the village pastor, for whom a beer is enough for happiness, and who cares little about “women’s nonsense.” Paradoxically, this simple-minded priest, embodying the stereotypical traits of a “simple peasant,” sees something that no “learned” exorcist can notice. He is the first to conclude that the nuns are not possessed by devils but by their own passions. He uncovers the farce in this “demonic” performance.

Femininity in Mother Joan of the Angels

From a contemporary perspective, this binarity may become unbearable for the modern viewer. If we focus on a literal interpretation of events in the depicted world, it can indeed be partly agreed with the earlier mentioned Sylwia Chutnik that the role of women in the film is treated very schematically and exaggeratedly. The nuns embody sin, representing a symbolic copy of Eve and embodying all that is irrational. The male world is confined to holy books, attempts to rationally solve problems, and eloquent conversations (particularly emphasized in the scene with the rabbi). Exorcists in the church compete in their Latin prayers, treat the ritual and Joanna herself as a subject of study, immobilize her, overpowering her while showcasing their strength among the gathered onlookers. The woman is an object of desire, admiration, or simply voyeurism, as reflected in the relationship between Sister Małgorzata (Anna Ciepielewska) and Chrząszczewski (Stanisław Jasiukiewicz). However, if we delve beneath the surface of the film’s world, the stereotypical roles of genders can completely change their image.

Utilizing themes related to monastic life and depicting the image of a woman confined within the fortress walls of a convent, a metaphorical image of femininity imprisoned in a patriarchal world is shown. On the other hand, this symbolic imprisonment allows the nuns to create a unique asylum without men. The nuns discard their habits, run naked in the courtyard, and try to free themselves from restrictive roles. We do not know what prompted each of them to join the convent. In Iwaszkiewicz’s story, Mother Joan had a disfiguring hump, which could symbolize the burden of societal rejection, lack of acceptance, and otherness that went beyond social norms. Joanna tries to manifest her individuality. She fears mediocrity and the collective identity imposed by religion. She wants to become a saint so that her name appears in the prayers of the faithful for centuries to come, granting her earthly immortality. Mother Joan does not want to remain silent; she plays the lead role in her performance and does not hesitate to use the naive priest Suryn for her own purposes. Meanwhile, Sister Małgorzata, in her amusing, fair-like song, clearly states that she prefers to be a nun rather than “receive blows” from her husband. For her, the habit becomes an illusory freedom and a passionless asylum. Perhaps that’s why only she can resist the “devils.” When she discards her habit, her nightmare, about which she sang earlier, comes true. In the non-convent world, a woman can only be an object of desire, an object to be spied upon, a bared neckline.

In contrast, the supposed rationality (though it might be better to use the word “erudition” since religion and religiosity have little to do with rationality) of priest Suryn turns out to be merely a veil hiding his internal sensory agitation and lack of self-confidence. His naive acceptance of all Joanna’s “demons” onto himself does not resemble Christ’s sacrifice culminating in death for humanity’s sins. Suryn becomes another weak priest, consumed by desire for a woman-nun, blind to her manipulation. But Suryn’s character also embodies Adam in the Garden of Eden. Joanna shares her “demons” with him, and he obediently accepts them. He succumbs to sins because it is the only way to be closer to her.

The Relativity of Good and Evil in Mother Joan of the Angels

In 1961, at the Cannes International Film Festival, the Palme d’Or was awarded to Luis Buñuel’s Viridiana. However, the jury deliberated for a long time over awarding the top prize to Mother Joan of the Angels. The themes explored by both Buñuel and Kawalerowicz largely focus on a certain image of a crisis of faith, illustrating the thin line between sacrifice and pride, love and sin, and above all, good and evil. It should be remembered that Kawalerowicz’s film was created during the particularly significant period of the Polish Film School, although it largely corresponded with the traditional issues of the movement. Alongside works like The Noose, How to Be Loved, and The Last Day of Summer, Mother Joan of the Angels forms a loosely connected trend with the main theme of the School, named by Tadeusz Lubelski as the psychological-existential trend. These films do not focus on historiosophical aspects; however, the portraits of individual human fates of the time are still immersed in reflections on human nature and its inherent evil. They still echo the traumatic experiences related to wartime events, which in this trend take on a more individual character. For filmmakers of the Polish Film School period, war became a personal reckoning with the darkest and most demonic aspects of humanity. In Mother Joan of the Angels, this schizophrenic dimension of human nature resounds in every detail, creating a complete portrayal of characters torn between the impulses of life and death.

As Jerzy Kawalerowicz said, “Our generation will never free itself from the shadow of war; its traces have healed but cannot be cured. These traces are, of course, most lasting in emotional relationships.” Theodor Adorno claimed that writing poetry after Auschwitz is barbaric. And after such experiences, can one still speak of morality and trust? Can good and evil still be considered absolute concepts? And were they ever? Suryn will not hear God’s voice; God has left Ludyn, fallen silent, just as over Auschwitz, leaving man with sin, guilt, and internal demons. The most important battle between good and evil is constantly fought nowhere else but in every human soul.

Words by Karolina Boron.