Jeanne

Jean-Francois Causeret and Lise Leplat Prudhomme in Jeanne

American critics outside of New York City were tepid towards Bruno Dumont's Jeanne, a sequel to his Jeanette. I thought Jeanette was a bold success and like Jeanne even more. Both films are rock operas with songs by the late French musician, Christophe, and they both tell the saga of Joan of Arc. The American title of Jeanne is Joan of Arc because Americans like things spelled out for them while the French know the story of Joan all too well. 

Oodles of films have been made about Joan and Dumont chose the youngest actress to play the role thus far. The casting of Lise Leplat Prudhomme, ten years old at the time of the first film, pays dividends because Dumont contrasts the youthful vigor of Joan's spirituality with the craven venality of her elderly male accusers. The clergy are portrayed as more concerned with climbing the ladder of success than saving souls. The film has memorable turns by Jean-Francois Causeret and Daniel Dienne (both making their film debut) as men of the cloth brought near apoplexy by the strength of the girl they brand a heretic. Fabrice Luchini, nearing a hundred credits in his storied film career, flexes his pearly whites in a cunning turn as the feckless Charles VII. 

Dumont has always drawn strong performances from both seasoned actors and amateurs, even in dire failures such as Slack Bay. Here, backdrops ranging from sand dunes to ruined forts serve like a bare stage to heighten our appreciation of the costumed cast. Like the unadorned backdrops Alain Cavalier used for his film about a saint, 1986's Therese, this choice heightens the presence of the actors so we are more attuned to the nuances of their performances and the sensual impact they make as creatures in their finery. Notice how the rich robes of the clergy and the wolf stole worn by Causeret leap off the screen at the viewer. 

The altar in Amiens Cathedral

Dumont's choice of Amiens Cathedral as the backdrop of Joan's trial is a likewise bold move that seems at first glance, given the baroque nature of the Church's interior, illogical. Joan is tried before a high baroque altar constructed three centuries after her death. Yet, the excessive finery of the cathedral's interior stresses the Church's accommodation with wealth and power, a stark juxtaposition with the peasant girl trying to obey God and rid her homeland of invaders. Dumont is attempting to shake up a story that is overly familiar to the French through its multiple iterations. The American equivalent would be the multiple films that feature Lincoln though Peter Parker is closing fast.

Jeanne often courts absurdity, especially its Busby Berkeley horse ballet that represents the Battle of Montepilloy. I'm not sure I'd ever want to hear the film's songs on their own. Jeanette's songs were bombastic rock while the ones in Jeanne are more contemplative. Christophe himself sings the final number as a monk foretelling the eternal damnation awaiting Joan. He sings it as an elegy in a high, keening voice that I won't soon forget. Christophe passed away from COVID in April of 2020. 

I also won't soon forget Joan's final vision in this film. Praying to God one last time before she faces the stake, she spies a robin's nest. Hungry chicks open their mouths as their mother arrives to feed them. Death always awaits both saint and sinner, but life goes on and hope springs eternal. This is the message of religion behind the veil of suffering that is life. Buddhism teaches us explicitly that life is suffering. Christianity teaches us this implicitly by having us meditate every Sunday on the image of a Messiah and common criminal nailed to a cross. Once we accept this suffering and the horror of our own mortality, then we can accept hope through eternal life. This is the message of Dumont's Jeanne and its very young saint. 

My present home town's statue of Joan of Arc. Erected in Portland in 1925, it is dedicated to those Americans who died serving in France during the First World War.