Tim Cawkwell said that this story "defines French Catholicism," and that is basically true. Unsurprisingly it is truer of the semi-epistolary novel than of the film, but as one who was outside the fold of traditional Catholicism for most of his life and is slowly being brought in I think it is safe to say that Cawkwell is on to something.
Robert Bresson's film strips out most of the (already spare) political context sprinkled into the original story--"democratic priests" (read: Jansenists, Gallicans, Revolutionaries/leftists), the Church in distress, a moribund and apathetic Christianity (and while it is often supposed that the French uninterested have simply abandoned the Church, in some quarters this apathy remains a serious problem among practicing and believing Catholics)--to focus on the spiritual battle of a pious priest who should have been completely unremarkable and these days would be remarkably controversial for reasons not related to those depicted in the film: the Curé d'Ambricourt (Monsieur l'Abbé... qui ? We are never given his name) is of course, as a man, a sinner, but a thoroughly CATHOLIC priest. He is faithful to the essential magisterium and committed to his parish and his parishioners.
It is, however, these strengths which serve to alienate the Curé from the people he serves and to engage the disapproval of his superiors. His weaknesses--an ever-so-slight tendency toward alcoholism resulting from heredity and the need to cover a rapidly encroaching health problem--merely serve as the pretext for this scandal. In the original novel, the Curé remarks that, "the monks suffer for souls; we the priests suffer by the souls!" and this, as many other truths in the book, ring true in the film. It is fascinating to see the treatment of this character: a priest, as an imperfect man, acts as the rightful Vicar of Christ all along the Way of the Cross, right up to the bitter end, and without being sacrosanct, imitates his Master in a manner fitting, without parallel, his religious vocation.
Claude Laydu, the lead actor, was not in fact an actor but a comedian for children. I am told Bresson made it a point to use a non-actor and to have this latter repeat scenes over and over to remove any desire to "act." Indeed, he succeeded: the spiritual torment, interior and exterior, is ever-present on the Curé's face and we have no doubt that he suffers by souls, as did our Master. I must cut this review short, for there simply is not enough space in the world to say all the good things about this work. In an era of low morale, apathy, and outright apostasy, it is good to return to some inspiration.
Robert Bresson's film strips out most of the (already spare) political context sprinkled into the original story--"democratic priests" (read: Jansenists, Gallicans, Revolutionaries/leftists), the Church in distress, a moribund and apathetic Christianity (and while it is often supposed that the French uninterested have simply abandoned the Church, in some quarters this apathy remains a serious problem among practicing and believing Catholics)--to focus on the spiritual battle of a pious priest who should have been completely unremarkable and these days would be remarkably controversial for reasons not related to those depicted in the film: the Curé d'Ambricourt (Monsieur l'Abbé... qui ? We are never given his name) is of course, as a man, a sinner, but a thoroughly CATHOLIC priest. He is faithful to the essential magisterium and committed to his parish and his parishioners.
It is, however, these strengths which serve to alienate the Curé from the people he serves and to engage the disapproval of his superiors. His weaknesses--an ever-so-slight tendency toward alcoholism resulting from heredity and the need to cover a rapidly encroaching health problem--merely serve as the pretext for this scandal. In the original novel, the Curé remarks that, "the monks suffer for souls; we the priests suffer by the souls!" and this, as many other truths in the book, ring true in the film. It is fascinating to see the treatment of this character: a priest, as an imperfect man, acts as the rightful Vicar of Christ all along the Way of the Cross, right up to the bitter end, and without being sacrosanct, imitates his Master in a manner fitting, without parallel, his religious vocation.
Claude Laydu, the lead actor, was not in fact an actor but a comedian for children. I am told Bresson made it a point to use a non-actor and to have this latter repeat scenes over and over to remove any desire to "act." Indeed, he succeeded: the spiritual torment, interior and exterior, is ever-present on the Curé's face and we have no doubt that he suffers by souls, as did our Master. I must cut this review short, for there simply is not enough space in the world to say all the good things about this work. In an era of low morale, apathy, and outright apostasy, it is good to return to some inspiration.