[*** Possible Spoilers relating to final scene ***] I watched this movie, fascinated, for the first time on Turner Classic Movies recently. The fascination stems from the realization that though this film is only 44 years old, it would be impossible to make such a movie today.
To treat as serious subject matter a woman's inner spiritual struggles as she progresses from postulant to novice to nun, and the crisis of faith that causes her to leave the order, as serious subjects for a movie is something that could not happen today. To make such a story marketable, the movie would have to have a healthy dose of secularism, an anti-religious tone, an attempt to portray the strictures of the order as repressive and authoritarian. After all, since the 60's our culture has taught us all that fulfillment comes from the fullest expression of one's innermost needs, desires, and aspirations. To portray a struggle to find fulfillment through complete self-abnegation and submission to authority as a heroic one would be viewed today as simply perverse. Thus the movie, which makes absolutely no condescensions to secularism, is an antique, though a gorgeous and beautifully made one.
The final scene, which accurately recreates the process by which a nun leaves the order - alone, with no handshakes or embraces or farewells, in a bare room with a door that opens to an outside street - is one of the most powerful I have ever seen. The overwhelming sadness that Sister Luke must have experienced as she walks out that door and down the street, her abandoned habit blowing gently in the breeze as it hangs on a clothes rack, is almost palpable, and is a testament to how powerfully the film has portrayed her struggle. We know that she has, in a very real sense, destroyed the most important part of her life as a result of her unremitting honesty. It is understandable why the director chose not to underline this scene with music; the meaning is too powerful to be accented with music, and to do so would actually undercut the scene's power. Watching it, an analogous scene that came to my mind - looking out a door, watching a conflicted figure walk away - was the closing of John Ford's 'The Searchers.' There are strong emotional analogies, but I find the scene from the Nun's Story to be the more powerful - it is the climax to which the entire movie leads, and is truly one of the rare moments where the cinematic art becomes transcendent.
Having said that, this clearly is not a film for everyone. The subject matter clearly limits its appeal to those who take faith and religion as real and serious subjects.
Production values: exquisite (must be seen in widescreen format). Audrey Hepburn's performance: perhaps her best. Franz Waxman's score (based on an Ave Maria chant from the Liber Usualis): superb.
A film of rich beauty and lasting depth.
To treat as serious subject matter a woman's inner spiritual struggles as she progresses from postulant to novice to nun, and the crisis of faith that causes her to leave the order, as serious subjects for a movie is something that could not happen today. To make such a story marketable, the movie would have to have a healthy dose of secularism, an anti-religious tone, an attempt to portray the strictures of the order as repressive and authoritarian. After all, since the 60's our culture has taught us all that fulfillment comes from the fullest expression of one's innermost needs, desires, and aspirations. To portray a struggle to find fulfillment through complete self-abnegation and submission to authority as a heroic one would be viewed today as simply perverse. Thus the movie, which makes absolutely no condescensions to secularism, is an antique, though a gorgeous and beautifully made one.
The final scene, which accurately recreates the process by which a nun leaves the order - alone, with no handshakes or embraces or farewells, in a bare room with a door that opens to an outside street - is one of the most powerful I have ever seen. The overwhelming sadness that Sister Luke must have experienced as she walks out that door and down the street, her abandoned habit blowing gently in the breeze as it hangs on a clothes rack, is almost palpable, and is a testament to how powerfully the film has portrayed her struggle. We know that she has, in a very real sense, destroyed the most important part of her life as a result of her unremitting honesty. It is understandable why the director chose not to underline this scene with music; the meaning is too powerful to be accented with music, and to do so would actually undercut the scene's power. Watching it, an analogous scene that came to my mind - looking out a door, watching a conflicted figure walk away - was the closing of John Ford's 'The Searchers.' There are strong emotional analogies, but I find the scene from the Nun's Story to be the more powerful - it is the climax to which the entire movie leads, and is truly one of the rare moments where the cinematic art becomes transcendent.
Having said that, this clearly is not a film for everyone. The subject matter clearly limits its appeal to those who take faith and religion as real and serious subjects.
Production values: exquisite (must be seen in widescreen format). Audrey Hepburn's performance: perhaps her best. Franz Waxman's score (based on an Ave Maria chant from the Liber Usualis): superb.
A film of rich beauty and lasting depth.