Lourdes

I saw the 2009 film Lourdes this evening as part of the Wisconsin Film Festival.  Written and directed by the Austrian filmmaker Jessica Hausner, it takes the viewer inside the pilgrimage to Lourdes, where more than a million people seek healing each year. The film is shot with empathy toward the pilgrims and sensitivity to the theological questions that arise for people seeking healing. Hausner is interested in these questions, and has a variety of characters asking them overtly, and with her camera asks them implicitly. Surprisingly, the church and the clergy come off fairly well. The priest who has to answer everyone’s questions, seems uncomfortable with facile answers, yet tries to find ways of helping the pilgrims understand their plight.

The lead character is Christine, played by Sylvie Testud. She suffers from multiple sclerosis and has come to Lourdes because such pilgrimages are the only way for her to get out of her house. She admits to preferring the cultural offerings of Rome to what Lourdes can provide. Testud is marvelous as the suffering woman who wants to have a “normal” life as she confesses to the priest.

One rarely sees in film images of people taking care of others in such intimate ways. Christine is tended by a volunteer, a young woman who says she’s doing this because she wants to find meaning. She dresses Christine, spoon feeds her, and pushes her wheelchair, but she also goes off and has fun with the young male attendants.One of the lingering, unspoken questions concerns the motives of all of those who take care of the pilgrims.

As I watched, I was reminded of Robert Orsi’s discussion of the Catholic cult of suffering that emerged in the mid-twentieth century (in Between Heaven and Earth) and indeed one of the characters mouths platitudes to the invalids about their role as model sufferers. There are also almost continuous shots of religious gift shops, but they serve as a backdrop to the action; there’s no attempt, explicit or implicit, to comment on the commercialism.

Suffering and the quest for miracles can bring out the worst in religion, and in movies. It’s easy either to give an easy answer to the difficult questions of why suffering happens, and why one person receives a “miracle” while others don’t. The quest for healing also attracts all matter of charlatans.

The movie asks great questions and ends in ambiguity. If you’re in Madison, there’s another showing tomorrow night; otherwise, add it to your Netflix queue.

Crazy Heart

I saw “Crazy Heart,” the Jeff Bridges movie, for which he has received well-deserved plaudits. In many ways, it’s a typical Hollywood film about a musician. The plotline is familiar from the Ray Charles and Johnny Cash biopics of a few years ago: a great singer has a rotten personal life and eventually gets it all back together. But this movie does have its charms. Maggie Gyllenhaal, for example, no matter how unbelievable the notion of her falling for a drunk, has-been country singer is always luminous on-screen.

Bridges himself, who brings intelligence and sensitivity to a role that in those other movies I mentioned seemed somewhat lacking. And, Robert Duvall. He was one of the producers. I love watching him, especially at this point in his career, where it seems like he is just having a great time (kind of like Paul Newman’s late performances).

I’m somewhat curious why in Hollywood redemption for middle-aged or late middle-aged men always seems to involve much younger women. In this case, however, Bridges didn’t get the girl in the end, even if their relationship was a catalyst for his transformation.

The music is pretty good, too. I’ve not been listening much to country music of any sort in the past few years. There was a time that my hour-long commute was accompanied by tunes from WNCW, so from the late 90s through say 2005, I got to know lots of alt country. I realized today, I kind of miss it, but lacking a commute, I’m probably not going to have the opportunity to listen to the likes of John Hiatt, Lucinda Williams, Gillian Welch and all those other artists I enjoyed during those years.

Thumbs Up

I just finished reading the profile of Roger Ebert in Esquire. It is incredibly moving. I have no idea when Siskel and Ebert first aired or when I first began watching it, but for many years, it was part of my week. Later on, I continued to follow Ebert’s reviews online. For a few years, I wrote movie reviews myself and I relied on Ebert to give me guidance (that’s another story for another day).

Siskel and Ebert taught me that movies were more than entertainment. They taught me how to watch movies, what to look for, how to interpret them. Their friendship and their disagreements also showed a way to be human, humane, and yet be able to differ deeply about important and trivial matters.

It’s a wonderful story about a man who lives with passion, full humanity, and deep love in the midst of great obstacles. Ebert’s response to the article is here.