Let's Hope Jimmy's Hall isn't Loach's Last Waltz

It's fitting that the general feeling that one comes away with after watching Ken Loach's maybe/maybe not final film is one of hope. The veteran filmmaker and Bath resident has spent decades defining the social realism genre with hard-hitting cinema verite fare like Kes and My Name is Joe. Films so stark and uncompromising they seem to have been filmed through a filter the colour of gravel. But social realism should never be an endless onslaught of misery for it is the sweet that makes the bitter so bitter and despite a backdrop of poverty, religious persecution and whippings (lest it be outdone by 12 Years a Slave) it may be Loach's sweetest film yet. 

The story is of troublemaker and Communist activist Jimmy Gralton (Barry Ward) who returns to his native Ireland in 1930 after a decade exiled in New York. While Jimmy insists he simply wants to live a quiet life on the family farm with his frail mother the glint of mischief remains in his eyes. That mischief takes the form of the tiny village's community hall which Jimmy had established years earlier but the church parish shut down over fears of Marxist indoctrination. The hall represents joy and hope for a community with no jobs, no means of education and no hope for the future. But the fears of indecency, anarchy and Communism are stirred by the church again, represented by the pious and rigid Father Sheridan (Jim Norton).

The clash of buttoned down religious figures and free-thinking hedonists may be cliched as Hell, Sheridan is after all played by Bishop Brennan, but the effect the church has on the community is effective nonetheless. Loach manages to taint the simple image of people leaving their pews with a sinister tone and the devastation felt by the characters is brought to the fore by fearful performances. The whipping exchanges the bloody body horror of 12 Years with the stilted, detached brutality of a documentarian. 

If there's one weak link it's regrettably Ward himself who, despite hardly leaving the screen, is never afforded the opportunity to communicate any kind of internal conflict. Here Gralton is an unambiguous folk hero, a figure of hope and courage with Wards performance easily able to light a fire in people's hearts. Instead the figure of ambiguity is found in Father Seamus (Andrew Scott) the young priest serving as the progressive counterpoint to Sheridan. It's a character that Scott presents as reserved and compliant, only passively voicing the rational arguments against Sheridan's zeal. It's only when the situation intensifies that he breaks, passionately and hopelessly observing how far Sheridan and his followers have fallen.

Like with most of Loach's work there appears to be little in the way of cinematic structure, for when does life progress so neatly. But there is an escalating sense of intensity that gradually builds with a balance struck between the harsh consequences and Graltons drive to continue the fight. While indeed true to life this does rob the final act of some of the emotional impact. Everything is taken from Gralton yet the film is rarely able to communicate the sadness in it all, instead swiftly moving to its conclusion. Even Father Sheridan's attempt at redemption, showing respect for Graltons courage and conviction, comes across as hollow.

Jimmy's Hall is a celebration of people's ability to find hope in the direst of circumstances and in that respect it succeeds. It may lack the nuance of a weightier character piece but it is an energetic and engrossing tale. The biggest hope that it inspires is that it is not the last we will see from Loach.

Calvary: Have the Father Dead jokes been done already?

Calvary is a film which showcases the best and worst traits of John Michael McDonagh's rising directorial talent. A funny, tensely paced black comedy with a protagonist both shar and endearing at its heart. A thought piece on the role of the Catholic Church in contemporary Ireland, the role of a good man in a world of cynicism. Possibly even, if the title is anything go by a rebelling of the story of Christ, though any disciples our protagonist might have are sorely absent.

The film blends dark humour with a foreboding sense of doom better than any film in recently memory. Practically a series of vignettes and a series with a killer opener (forgive me Father) at that. A sinister scene as Father James Lavelle (Brendan Gleeson) recieves a confessional from his future murderer. A promise to murder him next Sunday morning, for the collective sins of his church, with its dialogue dripping with contemptful remarks and blunt delivery. 

 Over the course of the week each new scene builds Father Lavelle's world and the dimensions to his character. His emotionally fragile daughter Fiona (Kelly Reilly) visiting from London following a suicide attempt. His fellow clergymen, one dismissively self-indulgent Bishop and an almost Dougal-esque fellow priest. And the ensemble of sinners in Lavelle's parish who provide much of the gallows humour. 

To this end McDonagh assembles a stellar cast of Irish actors, including Chris O'Dowd, Dylan Moran and Aiden Gillen (who Game of Thrones fans will recognise as Littlefinger). Considering the comic backgrounds of Moran and O'Dowd it's surprising how much menace can be squeezed out of each character. The entire cast gives each laugh a tense atmosphere knowing it could be coming from a potential murderer.

As the days countdown it becomes clear just how much vice permeates the village and how at odds Lavelle's good-nature is with the world around him. Sometimes the sins of the Catholic Church loom over the film like the rock of Benbulbin, other times they are thrown into dialogue like a shot in the face. Yet it seems even worse than that. These people have not simply lost faith in the church but in good people, in goodness itself. Perhaps that is McDonaghs real reasoning in setting out to kill Lavelle, destroying something pure so we can understand its value.

We may however never know as McDonangh is far too keen to encourage ambiguity over answers, more for artistic indulgence than anything genuine. Certain scenes and transitions seem edited in such a way to obscure perception to the point of seeming non sequitar at times. For example at one point Lavelle is boarding a plane intending to flee but changes his mind. But the next shot is simply Lavelle driving a car, with no indication that he's still in his own car returning to the village. It's a teething problem of rising directors, the understanding that establishing shots are not simply there to create atmosphere but to communicate story. Still it's none the less distracting.

At the end of the day though Calvary's biggest problem is a place where it matters most, the emotional stuff. Sure Father Lavelle is an endearing character, one most deserving of a happy ending but when it comes for the full emotional weight of the character the film simply doesn't pull it off like a punch to the gut. It's a variety of factors, while the wit is razor sharp the dramatic dialogue can be so cliche as to break immersion. Plus aforementioned ambiguity to Lavelle's decision means that while it's something we can understand it's not something we can crucially feel.

Calvary is a good film that flies close to greatness. Being at once a thoughtful character piece, commentary on a wealth of religious and social issues and one of the best black comedies of the year should be an accomplishment in itself. Unfortunately it can't tie all of it together we'll enough to rise above.

SPOILER WARNING

Another of the film's issues, which I feel is going to make or break the film for most, ties back to the issue of ambiguity but relates to important plot information that I didn't feel belonged in the whole review. So this part is staying separate for the benefit of anyone who reads this but is still interested in seeing the film.

So Father Lavelle arrives at the beach Sunday moning as instructed and is met by...Chris O'Dowd. Seriously, that's it. The film spends over ninety minutes teasing most of the village's men with this 'whodunit in potentia' only to seemingly pick one candidate at random. Undermining much of the emotional weight of everything the film has been building towards. But even after he pulls the trigger it's not over.

Sometime later we see O'Dowd receiving a visitor in prison, Fiona, who doesn't say anything but cries a little. Now there are two options as to what this means, either she was visiting to speak to O'Dowd, trying to gain understanding of what he did and see if she could forgive. Or the more interesting option, that she was visiting to confirm that he had done as instructed. That she had arranged her father to be killed and potentially had been the voice in the confessional simply using O'Dowd as a mouthpiece. 

This doesn't change the impact or quality of the film of course but it does bring new perspective to the scenes between Fiona and her dad. The idea that this wasn't simply a post-suicide visit but Fiona's final attempt to reconcile her issues with her father and the church which he now belongs to. Interesting but in the end only my personal speculation.