SCORE:6.9/10
There but for the grace of God goes Maud, a reclusive young nurse whose impressionable demeanor causes her to pursue a pious path of Christian devotion after an obscure trauma. Now charged with the hospice care of Amanda, a retired dancer ravaged by cancer, Maud’s fervent faith quickly inspires an obsessive conviction that she must save her ward’s soul from eternal damnation – whatever the cost. Making her feature-film debut, writer/director Rose Glass cannily lures the audience into this disturbed psyche, steadily setting up her veritable diary of a country nurse for an unnerving and ultimately shocking trajectory.
Morfydd Clark (also at the Festival in The Personal History of David Copperfield) portrays the sanctimonious Maud with an intense stoicism that belies a disquieting vulnerability, as Maud desperately vies for absolution and solidarity from her embittered patient (an enthralling Jennifer Ehle, also at the Festival in Beneath the Blue Suburban Skies). Glass tenderly captures this relationship with an empathetic gaze that first assumes an ethereal, dreamlike atmosphere–but before long, Maud’s dogmatic candor incites an irreconcilable friction that spirals her mind into a suffocating confluence of creeping doubt and paranoia.
As Glass tightens the screws on her misguided martyr, well-placed nods are made to religious horror forerunners like William Friedkin’s “The Exorcist,” further contributing to the film’s increasingly dread-filled malaise. And when this insidious fever climatically breaks, the consequences are devastating and terrifying in equal measure.
REVIEW:
Her little saviour.There are essentially two ways to read ‘Saint Maud (2019)’, though its final half-second pretty much tells you exactly which reading is preferred – intended, even – by its writer/director, and it constantly keeps you flittering back and forth between these readings until its final few frames (literally). A film focusing on a deeply religious character is always going to be controversial, even if it doesn’t depict her doing fanatical and dangerous things, but I don’t think that the picture is condemning religion itself. In fact, I don’t think it’s ‘about’ religion at all. Instead, it’s about loneliness. Maud is a deeply flawed protagonist, spiralling further and further into her own personal delusions as she exhibits increasingly harmful behaviour. However, it’s typically easy to empathise with her, without condoning her actions. The movie starts off more or less as a straight drama, seeing our lead take on a new position as an at-home nurse for an ex-dancer with late-stage leukaemia. There are levels of enigmatic dread running through this segment of the film, mainly thanks to the director’s willingness to slow things down and gnaw away at the audience, but things don’t really slip into proper horror territory until around halfway through. Even then, the horror is mostly subtle. There are some elements of wince-inducing body-horror but most of the scary stuff is psychological. It becomes increasingly clear just how entrenched we are within Maud’s perspective, as we begin to get glimpses of the way she sees the world, and it’s never clear what’s actually ‘real’. This keeps you on your toes until the thing reaches its somewhat surprising yet simultaneously inevitable conclusion. For the most part, the affair walks the line between supernatural and psychological with poise. There are only a couple of moments in which it wobbles, with one sequence in particular feeling as though it crosses that line a little, but they aren’t all that bothersome once you’ve cemented your final reading of the narrative (which, again, will either be confirmed or entirely upended by the last half-second). It’s a really interesting, engaging and effective experience overall. It’s also achingly well-made, with some phenomenal cinematography and brilliantly low-key performances. It’s distinct, it’s disturbing and it sticks with you. 6.9/10.
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