‘Benedetta’ REVIEW: Come for the scandalous romance, stay for the political intrigue
‘Benedetta’ REVIEW: Come for the scandalous romance, stay for the political intrigue
Benedetta is directed by Paul Verhoeven, known for Basic Instinct and RoboCop.
Benedetta marks Paul Verhoeven’s return to screens five years after Elle, arguably one of his most transgressive works, and he lives up to his licentious proclivities once more. This time, it's an ecclesiastical lesbian nun affair that channels both his predilection for graphic excess and sexual content, albeit to varying degrees of success.
The film is inspired by real events, and it takes a page from Judith Brown’s 1986 seminal non-fiction book ‘Immodest Acts,’ which details the infamous life of the eponymous character. But, insofar as the film aims to be a historical account, Verhoeven’s stylistic flair and his attempt at progressively evaluating the hypocrisies of the church stand out the most.
Virginie Efira plays the lead role of Benedetta, who undergoes a series of perturbing visions that culminates in her experiencing a ‘stigmata,’ the appearance of bodily wounds that are synonymous with Jesus Christ. Daphne Patakia stars as Bartolomea, the amiable yet sexually-charged nun who serves as Benedetta’s aide and image of desire.
Virginie Efira from a still in Benedetta.
What’s most intriguing in the film is its sycophantic religious politics—not the romance. There's something about uncovering the taboo and whether the accused will get away with it or not that are just magnets for one's attention. The politicking and faux puritanism are executed cogently, often more riveting than its other parts.
Sister Felicita, brilliantly played by Charlotte Rampling, is upended by Benedetta as abbess, and the ensuing battle of leverage between the two is fascinating. The love between Benedetta and Bartolomea, although bereft and squandering, is more potent when framed in direct opposition with the immutability of religious traditions.
Their scenes of intimacy and sexual pleasure are mostly banal, but they are shaken up due to some very creative use of literal religious imagery (hint: it’s wooden and shaped like an eggplant). Verhoeven said that his sex scenes are storyboarded, and you can get a sense that there’s some delicate artistry in it, but it’s hard to engage when the chemistry between the two leads barely flicker.
Daphne Patakia’s Bartolomea is seen alongside Benedetta in this still.
Verhoeven is also highly interested in the humanism correlated with Jesus, and it manifests in Benedetta’s enigmatic visions of Jesus. This religiosity, however, is too explicit and rarely minimal when needed. The hallucinatory imagery often plays out unequivocally, filled with distracting visual fodder while only barely original in the moments in which it is figurative.
Benedetta aims to expose the ephemerality of theological norms and the perversity of Catholic leaders. It also wants to show the erotica, to titillate and beguile. Then, on top of all of that, it wants to question the nature of piety and how one can truly know Christ. These concepts can be a lot to take in, but they become quietly impactful if you allow the film to settle in.
Verhoeven incorporates religious imagery in hallucinatory scenes.
It helps that the film occurs under picturesque 17th-century sites while occasionally flirting with stylized skies and backgrounds. In contrast, the convent feels rigid and suffocating, emblematic of the harrowing circumstances of nuns when compared to the power of priests and nuncios. The religious exterior translates into the interior, exemplified best by Nuncio Giglioli’s (Lambert Wilson) Baroque lifestyle juxtaposed to the poor city of Pescia.
The transactional nature of religion plays a huge part in the film. A young Benedetta is sold off to be Christ’s bride through the payment of dowry. Bartolomea escapes her abusive father through payment, but exchanges it for a new kind of prison, one that asphyxiates and nauseates. These are evidently self-serving, only made glossy by God’s touch.
Bendetta was one of this year’s Palme d’Or nominees in the Cannes Film Festival.
For a film that tackles something so controversial, one of the earliest documented cases of lesbianism, it oddly feels more subdued. It is partly due to how Benedetta is an unreliable narrator, unsure what is real or not herself. There’s a moment where a seemingly miraculous thing occurs, but no one seems surprised about it later on. Do people doubt her credibility as well? What do they think about the scandalous relationship? I guess we’ll never know.
In the end, there’s a line from the beginning that seems to synthesize the film's theme: "Suffering is the only way to know Christ." However, Benedetta appears more solipsistic and Machiavellian; she does not suffer; she imbues suffering onto others for her own gain. It’s an interesting angle and demonstrably scary. If only the characters were less opaque and more mosaic, maybe the film would've been more effective.
The trailer for Benedetta (2021).
Benedetta is now available on Upstream's website. Tickets can be acquired through GMovies.ph.
