Rapture: Film Review of The Testament of Ann Lee
★★★1/2
Illustration by Michael DiMilo
By Geoff Carter
There are films that are not only worlds—cinematic universes—unto themselves, but that immerse the audience into that experience so thoroughly and deeply that when the film ends, it almost seems to the viewer as if he might be waking from a dream.
After a good friend and I saw Raging Bull back in 1980, we walked out of the theater in dazed silence for two blocks in the wrong direction, not because of ultrarealistic special effects or dazzling cinematography but because of our total immersion into the inner minefield of boxer Jake LaMotta’s awful and violent self-destructive psychology. We couldn’t get it out of our heads.
Fantasies like The Lord of the Rings trilogy, the Harry Potter series, or the never-ending films from the Marvel Universe might take viewers into new and exotic locations, but for the most part, these movies fail to immerse the audience in an intensive emotional investment with their characters. Some films just aren’t designed to do that. While viewers may empathize with Frodo or Harry or Gamora—or even love them—for the most part, their experiences are necessarily foreign to ours—that’s why they are exotic. It is the everyday, the mundane, the human factor we recognize in ourselves. I’m not a violent man, but I empathized with Jake LaMotta—and his long-suffering brother Joey—in Raging Bull. I did not become involved in the locale or the events but in the emotional reality of the characters themselves.
On its surface, Mona Fastvold’s film The Testament of Ann Lee, a biopic a founding member of the Shakers religion in the 18th century, might seem to be a bit of a mundane subject, but this movie is no Sunday school picnic. It is a wonderfully conceived and executed film which pushes the envelope of traditional narrative film into breathtaking areas of spirituality, vision, obsession, and grief.
The film, framed by a voice-over narration partly based on the Testimonies of the Life, Character, Revelations, and Doctrines of Mother Ann Lee is, according to director Fastvold, a “speculative retelling” of her story.
Ann (Amanda Seyfried) is born to a large family in Manchester in 1736. From an early age, she and her brother William (Lewis Pullman) work in a cotton mill. From a young age, Ann is extremely religious. When she witnesses her parents having sex, she is convinced that is the source of original sin. Dissatisfied with the traditional religious establishment, one night she and brother William as well as her good friend Mary attend a Shaking Quaker service with Jane (Stacy Martin) and James Wardley (Scott Handy) who profess that Jesus will appear in the Second Coming as a woman. The sect believes in public confession, and their services include spontaneous singing and dancing. Ann, seeing a new sort of divinity, joins them. She meets and marries Abraham (Christopher Abbott). They have four children, all of whom die before they reach their first year. Ann, consumed with grief, enters into the infirmary.
After recovering, she becomes a leader in the Shaker community and becomes even more convinced that sex is the root of all sin. The locals attack the Shakers for disturbing the peace, but undeterred, Ann interrupts a church service and is imprisoned, during which she experiences a series of visions revealing to her that fornication is the original sin. The others are convinced she is the new messiah and call her “Mother Ann”. After being attacked by an angry crowd, Ann to take their church to America.
They arrive in New York and with the help of wealthy patron Richard Hocknell (James Bogyo), they are able to establish a new settlement in Niskayuna. Ann sends William off to gather new followers in neighboring settlements. He succeeds in persuading neighbors dissatisfied with their own communities to join them. Niskayuna grows and thrives.
Ann is imprisoned once again when she refuses to side with the Continental Army during the Revolutionary War, but is released and continues to spread the word, establishing new communities all over New England.
At a farmhouse one night, she and her followers are attacked by an angry mob who profess that she is a witch. They blind her friend Mary and severely beat William, who dies of his injuries afterwards. Ann herself passes a year later, leaving the rich legacy of the Shaker religion and their distinctive craftsmanship.
While this might seem to be a familiar David and Goliath story of one person’s personal vision and determination to triumph over the forces of hate and prejudice, this film transcends that predictable bare-bones narrative, delivering a breathtakingly absorbing story of enlightenment, enthrallment, and community.
Fastvold stretches the boundaries of this narrative with carefully choreographed worship sequences and the use of Shaker hymns as an integral part of the narrative. During the first service at the Wardley home, individual confessions are accompanied by shrieking, singing, and spontaneous dancing which evolve into almost seamlessly unified well-choreographed and harmonically pure musical productions. The sequences were choreographed by Celia Rowlson-Hall and the music by Daniel Blumberg was drawn from Shaker hymns, including distinct songs by Blumberg.
Far from being intrusive, these scenes inexplicably draw the viewer into the spirituality of the event and the joy of the participants. “Beautiful Treasures” is a melody about Ann’s lost children; “I Never Did Believe” is sung by Ann during her prison fast in England which precipitated her visions. The repetitious sing-song lilt of the songs is hypnotic, and as the dances during services move into symmetrical, concentric circles of movement and dance—some strangely sexual—the viewer is drawn to the spectacle, perhaps as a swaying snake hypnotizes its prey. The worshippers become so synchronized in their movements that it seems as if there must be a a greater force controlling them, a perception reinforced by the consistent symmetry in the dance formations and later, at the settlement, in the design of the buildings themselves.
Amanda Seyfried gives a simply brilliant performance as Ann Lee. Her magnetism, energy, and fervor fill the frame to bursting. From the depths of her grief to the heights of her rapture to the brilliance of her visions, she takes the audience with her on her spiritual journey. It is difficult not to become absolutely immersed in this character’s mind, her heart, and her soul. Her performance is nothing short of hypnotic. The film is about Ann Lee’s vision, determination, and unflagging devotion to God. She is an icon, an institution, a visionary, and a feminist (though she would never call herself one.)
The supporting cast, particularly Lewis Pullman and Tim Blake Nelson, is excellent, and the production design is beautifully rendered. The somber darkness of Ann’s early days in England is slowly lifted as she journeys towards her congregation’s enlightenment. But, in the end, this film could not have existed without Seyfried’s performance.
This film ran the considerable commercial risk of alienating audiences wondering whether they might be walking into an evangelical diatribe. Nothing could be further from the truth. While The Testament of Ann Lee explores and displays all brands of rapturous ecstasy, it does not preach, and it does not lecture. It simply is. It washes over the audience, immersing us in the communal energy of those who want hope, salvation, and community. It is a wonderfully rendered cinematic work unlike anything else that came before it.