Saint MaudFaith, by definition, is the belief in something that cannot be proven. It is the basis for virtually all established religions, offering answers to believers. But any faith can be perverted, twisted into nothing more than a justification to promote suffering. Saint Maud is a psychological horror movie about a young private nurse called Maud (Morfydd Clark), who has recently been assigned to provide palliative care to a woman named Amanda Köhl (Jennifer Ehle), a one-time choreographer and dancer now stricken with lymphoma. As the women come to know one another, Maud believes that she can save the wanton Amanda's soul...but can she save her own?
|
|
Written and directed by Rose Glass, Saint Maud is an intensely atmospheric and confident thriller, exploring Maud's dark night of the soul in vivid detail. Maud narrates by way of prayers to God. Her prayers are unorthodox and personal, often even conversational. Maud's relationship with God is peeled back slowly throughout the story, constantly forcing the audience to reevaluate our complex protagonist. The only clue that haunts us as we watch comes by way of an ambiguous prologue, with a bloodied Maud crouched in a corner, staring up at a cockroach on the ceiling, with a wretched looking corpse of a woman on a gurney. After such a sinister opening, much of what follows is a slow burn. Like Norman Bates or Travis Bickle--of Psycho and Taxi Driver, respectively--Maud conceals a deep-seated psychological imbalance within her. Outwardly, she is a shy, religious nurse--mousy, timid, and nervous. But when she is challenged or pressured, the hint of a cold fire within her threatens to lash out. It becomes clear that Maud is turning to faith to reinvent herself; as much is said by an old acquaintance she meets on the streets who calls her "Katie". Although Maud appears to adopt facets of Catholicism, some of her rituals seem born solely out of her complex feelings of guilt, like her persistent use of mortification. In each instance, she is in her underwear, approaches the crucifix, and inflicts pain upon herself. These punishments typically follow feelings of ecstasy that do not appear exclusively of a divine origin. When Amanda asks Maud how God talks to her, she describes it as though he were a "presence" that "pulses"...words that Amanda later uses against Maud to imply that Maud is sexually aroused by her own piety. Is this true? Maud's past speaks to this, yet the film wisely avoids expounding on exactly what brought her to her faith. In fact, one of the greatest strengths of Saint Maud is in the way that it forces its audience to assemble the pieces of the puzzle that make up Maud and her past, intentionally leaving much to our imagination. Another strength of the movie is in the way that it slowly pulls us into Maud's delusional outlook of the world. Certainly life is very hard for Maud. She lives in a spartan closet of an apartment in a coastal town, where the nights are full of neon lights, raucousness, and sin. Maud hopes to uplift herself from this life through her faith, but is her faith enough?
Horror movies about religious fervor boiling over into violence are common fare for low-budget slashers. What sets Saint Maud apart from the pack is in the quality of its craftsmanship. Consider (for starters) the lighting in many of its scenes--especially within Amanda's home--which subtly evokes Maud's state of mind. At times, the lights flicker, and Maud begins to believe that the presence of God is near. She begins gasping and moaning, overwrought by her ecstasy. Or when Maud hovers outside of the door to Amanda's living room, with a shaft of light cutting across her face as she spies Amanda and her lover, Carol (Lily Frazer), in their decadence. The ambiguity of what Maud is thinking is critical, because it affords us the opportunity to fill in that void. Is she envious that Amanda can afford to live so lavishly, while she wipes up puke from a Turkish rug and lives in a hovel? Is she aroused by forbidden fruit? Is she furious that her efforts to save Amanda's soul are being so easily undermined? Any and all of these could be true, or none of them. This speaks to the assured mastery Glass has over the film and in establishing myriad qualities in her protagonist through cinematic language. Maud's complexity and instability make for a dynamic protagonist, for whom anything could be true at any point...and by the end of the film, virtually is. As mentioned before, she shares much in common with the likes of Travis Bickle, down to her introspective narration, foreshadowing darker portents. In a sense, Saint Maud expands on the "man in a room" concept popularized by filmmakers like Paul Schrader, where a protagonist is pushed into a psychological crisis, rarely (if ever) emerging unscathed. And like many of these complex protagonists, Maud cannot be easily classified as a hero or villain. It is easy to make comparisons to similar caregivers who believe that their way is the only way, like Nurse Ratched from One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. But unlike Ratched, Maud is vulnerable and weak. In some ways, the suffering she endures from so many insensitive people around her also recalls Lucky McKee's May, specifically its title character. Like May, the world of Saint Maud is a cruel place at its core, or rather that the sensitive or insecure are not cherished or protected, but abused. There is a sense that Maud feels that Amanda has enjoyed a full life, and may be jealous of her...or wants to be her. But Maud is overlooking the key difference: Amanda is on the verge of death, and Maud has much of her life to look forward to. Or at least that would be true if her life appeared to be anything more enriching than the near poverty that she currently endures. This outlook on the movie suggests that her faith is a means of escape from her dour reality, which is only effective so long as she isn't reminded of it. The question of the validity of Maud's faith comes up often, especially toward the end. What you believe about Maud, who she is, why she does what she does, becomes--like faith--a uniquely personal experience.
Recommended for: Fans of an expertly made psycho thriller that slyly builds sympathy for our long-suffering protagonist while using religious fervor as a cipher for her psychological instability. Released by A24 in the latter half of the 2010s, Saint Maud stands among the vanguard of this era's horror movie renaissance, inspired by the greats of yesteryear while forging its own novel experience for those lucky audiences who seek it out. Glass is a director to watch!
Horror movies about religious fervor boiling over into violence are common fare for low-budget slashers. What sets Saint Maud apart from the pack is in the quality of its craftsmanship. Consider (for starters) the lighting in many of its scenes--especially within Amanda's home--which subtly evokes Maud's state of mind. At times, the lights flicker, and Maud begins to believe that the presence of God is near. She begins gasping and moaning, overwrought by her ecstasy. Or when Maud hovers outside of the door to Amanda's living room, with a shaft of light cutting across her face as she spies Amanda and her lover, Carol (Lily Frazer), in their decadence. The ambiguity of what Maud is thinking is critical, because it affords us the opportunity to fill in that void. Is she envious that Amanda can afford to live so lavishly, while she wipes up puke from a Turkish rug and lives in a hovel? Is she aroused by forbidden fruit? Is she furious that her efforts to save Amanda's soul are being so easily undermined? Any and all of these could be true, or none of them. This speaks to the assured mastery Glass has over the film and in establishing myriad qualities in her protagonist through cinematic language. Maud's complexity and instability make for a dynamic protagonist, for whom anything could be true at any point...and by the end of the film, virtually is. As mentioned before, she shares much in common with the likes of Travis Bickle, down to her introspective narration, foreshadowing darker portents. In a sense, Saint Maud expands on the "man in a room" concept popularized by filmmakers like Paul Schrader, where a protagonist is pushed into a psychological crisis, rarely (if ever) emerging unscathed. And like many of these complex protagonists, Maud cannot be easily classified as a hero or villain. It is easy to make comparisons to similar caregivers who believe that their way is the only way, like Nurse Ratched from One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. But unlike Ratched, Maud is vulnerable and weak. In some ways, the suffering she endures from so many insensitive people around her also recalls Lucky McKee's May, specifically its title character. Like May, the world of Saint Maud is a cruel place at its core, or rather that the sensitive or insecure are not cherished or protected, but abused. There is a sense that Maud feels that Amanda has enjoyed a full life, and may be jealous of her...or wants to be her. But Maud is overlooking the key difference: Amanda is on the verge of death, and Maud has much of her life to look forward to. Or at least that would be true if her life appeared to be anything more enriching than the near poverty that she currently endures. This outlook on the movie suggests that her faith is a means of escape from her dour reality, which is only effective so long as she isn't reminded of it. The question of the validity of Maud's faith comes up often, especially toward the end. What you believe about Maud, who she is, why she does what she does, becomes--like faith--a uniquely personal experience.
Recommended for: Fans of an expertly made psycho thriller that slyly builds sympathy for our long-suffering protagonist while using religious fervor as a cipher for her psychological instability. Released by A24 in the latter half of the 2010s, Saint Maud stands among the vanguard of this era's horror movie renaissance, inspired by the greats of yesteryear while forging its own novel experience for those lucky audiences who seek it out. Glass is a director to watch!