A tale with some eerie similarities to its real-life character, filmmaker Carl Theodor Dreyer set out to make a motion picture on the legendary Joan of Arc. Upon its completion in 1928 (The Passion of Joan of Arc), he was hounded by French nationalists, French government censors and the Archbishop of Paris, first complaining that a Dane (who is not Catholic) could not do justice to the greatest of French stories, then taking aim at the film itself – whitewashing the narrative (the French premiere eliminated the nastiness of the Judge and religious theologians and priests, as well as any other edgy visuals), thus leaving it in a truncated form that truly disgusted the screenwriter/director (a semblance of being tried by jury). Then, a truly disastrous event occurred – the original film negative burned in a fire at the UFA Studios in Berlin (a truly bizarre coincidence). . . the filmmaker distraught, was forced to piece the entire film back together by way of all of his discarded footage and alternate takes (a perfect example of the director’s extensive attention to detail, the movie was reconstructed to a very similar state that very few would be able to differentiate – though obviously Dreyer was less than pleased). Fate once again reared its ugly head when a lab fire burned this copy, leaving just a few extremely damaged prints (based upon both the original first and second cut) that had been circulated across Europe.
Edited and changed by future hands, it was long believed that no one would ever see the man’s original vision again (the prints that survived were often missing twenty plus minutes, were chopped up and were changed to suit the meddling hands of re-releasers – some had added narration, others injected Baroque scores and changed the intertitles).
In 1981, more than five decades after the motion picture was first released, a copy of Dreyer’s original cut was found in, of all places, a mental institution in Oslo, Norway – with the stamps still intact proving it was neither touched by the government or church. A saintly blessing bestowed on this iconic feature.
Almost filmed like a documentary, Dreyer developed a shortened version of the Joan of Arc trials. With the original trial sessions taking place over months, he selected the most important information, making it seem as though it occurred in just one day – though everything seen and heard is as accurate as possible to the historic truth (Dreyer spent over a year researching, looking to the original trial records as a source).
Filmed using stark close-ups, Jeanne d’Arc (Maria Falconetti – a stage actress whose only major role is this one) is juxtaposed with cross-cuts of her inquisitors, including Bishop Pierre Cauchon (Eugène Silvain), prosecutor Jean d’Estivet (André Berley), as well as several others, her feeble, chained body in complete contrast to the lavishly dressed judges, lawyers, theologians and priests. Though a few of the more pious courtiers believe she is a saint, the vast majority target her, using any means necessary to discredit that she has been sent by God to drive the English out of France.
By way of logic, word-play, manipulations and trickery, they attempt to fool the steadfast teen, though she never wavers in her belief, despite their deceptive manoeuvres. They even transport her to the torture chamber, and though she faints while viewing the disturbing vision, it does not sway her convictions.
Centred on Maria Falconetti’s rivetting take on Joan of Arc, it has oft been cited as one of the great cinematic performances of all-time – and for good reason. Though he filmed establishing shots for the movie, Dreyer decided not to use any of them, instead sticking with his constant barrage of impressively edited close-ups (meaning that Falconetti is almost always in the camera’s eye). With an expressive visage and even more vivid eyes, she easily portrays both her ardent belief and the absolute fear of a teenager put on trial in front of much more learned and powerful people than herself. Her command of her emotions is utterly impressive, tears sometimes pouring, other times dribbling down her face, a young lady pushed to the brink by her captors. Dreyer was always known for demanding realism, and, in one of the most memorable sequences, Jeanne’s hair is shaved with scissors – done in one take (and then edited to show scenes of what is happening outside the castle where she is being held), the demeaning act demonstrates the lengths that both Dreyer and Falconetti went to, to capture this mesmeric vision of sincerity and suffering.
And, of course, Dreyer must also be mentioned. Known as a dictatorial-style director, his desire for realism led to countless takes, often in painful situations (kneeling on stone for hours. . .), all aimed at achieving that small gesture, that needed look found both consciously and subconsciously in the actor’s eyes. A historic tale of emotion, the jarring close-ups are expertly edited, telling us so much for a silent feature. At times jarring, they symbolize Jeanne’s plight, the seemingly never-ending one-sided back and forth tossed at her by the inquisitors. Further adding to the realism, Dreyer did not allow any make-up, whilst his use of panchromatic film (providing a more realistic, human like depiction) gave a more naturalistic look. Yet, Rudolph Maté’s cinematography was also key in his depictions, the lighting on Jeanne more forgiving, while the high contrast thrust onto the craggy, imperfect faces of the Judge and others often gave them a more monstrous, even grotesque perspective. Camera angles are also clearly used to provide this effect – low-angles symbolic of their looming presence. At times, a sense of German Expressionism comes through (the angles of the town, the torture room, the use of shadow and light coming through her barred window – looking like a cross from one angle, the flag of England the other), drawing parallels to his next great film, Vampyr. It is not surprising to learn that Dreyer shot the film in chronological order, a rare thing, though one can see its effectiveness for the actors. Lastly, a bloodletting scene is completely authentic (though it is not Falconetti, but a stand-in), a sharp dagger piercing an arm. . . once again, the drive of an auteur for authenticity.
Intriguingly, his desire for accuracy led him to develop one of the most expensive film sets ever (at that time). . . I say intriguingly, as it is rarely seen due to the close-ups. Wanting to set the tone for the actors, the pared down fifteenth century town featured a castle, towers, a moat and functioning drawbridge, fully structured walls protecting the town (they could hold actors, crew, lights, and cameras), a courtyard, houses and a cathedral. Let’s just say, the producers were not happy.
A unique film that may still be ahead of its time, The Passion of Joan of Arc’s up-close depiction of human beings is wholly original – you are not likely to see another film shot in a similar fashion to this ever again. Though Dreyer never designated a specific composition for the piece, Richard Einhorn’s “Voices of Light” (which appears on the Criterion DVD), is a noteworthy accompaniment – as the movie actually influenced the composer in writing the music all these years later. Thankfully Dreyer’s masterpiece didn’t go up in flames as originally thought, so discover this heavenly European silent classic, it is well worth the trial.