Bernadette
and the Many Others

Since its inception, cinema has embraced the figure of Mary, weaving aesthetic and narrative elements with anthropological and theological aspects. Films about Marian apparitions, or other manifestations of Mary, form a unique genre within the broader cinematic landscape. These films, invoking the collective perception of the sacred, adeptly address contemporary issues and sensitivities. By giving voice, face, and form to the Mary of the Gospels, cinema also conveys an image of femininity and the role of women in the Church and society. Equally significant for both religious and social sentiment is the portrayal of the visionary, whether inspired by officially recognized apparitions or fictional encounters with Mary that serve as a deus ex machina during times of adversity.

Proof of this is the most successful apparition drama of Hollywood’s golden age, an essential reference for subsequent productions. Based on Franz Werfel’s novel The Song of Bernadette (1943), directed by Henry King, it extensively employs proven techniques to suggest the presence of the supernatural, blending lighting and wind effects with the customary support of non-diegetic music. Similar to votive iconography, Jennifer Jones, portraying Bernadette, is framed in profile, kneeling, while gazing towards a presence that remains off-screen. To visualize what the prerogative of the young visionary is, King employs subjective shots, and for example, through the eyes of the “shepherdess”, the viewer experiences the Lady’s vision, portrayed by actor Linda Darnell. The ethereal image, in harmony with the sentimentality of popular devotion, finds full correspondence in the portrayal of Bernadette. At the time of filming, Jones was twenty-four years old, ten years older than her character, yet her performance, characterized by humble and joyful innocence, earned her the Oscar for Best Actress.

The exploration of new female role models extends into cinema, reflecting a post-conciliar shift away from strictly devotional aspects of Marian worship. The turn-of-the-millennium revival also represents a profound reimagining of Mary’s image, significantly influenced by feminist discourse. This era has fostered a productive dialogue between theology and Women’s Studies, aimed at unveiling the authentic biblical Mary obscured by ideological layers and the sanitizing effects of cinematic traditions.

In this context, a notable production emerged that underscores the dynamic interplay between religiosity and secularization. In 2018, two distinct and deeply personal reinterpretations of this phenomenon were released simultaneously in theaters. In Troppa grazia [Too Much Grace], Gianni Zanasi crafts the encounter between Lucia, a single mother and steadfastly skeptical surveyor (played by Alba Rohrwacher), and a determined Madonna (portrayed by the Jewish actor Hadas Yaron), initially mistaken by Lucia for a young refugee. Lucia’s initial resistance, attempts to flee, and eventual visit to a psychiatrist frame her journey, where her encounter with Mary becomes transformative, helping her rediscover her identity and professional ethics.

The film notably diverges from the reverential tones of mid-20th century depictions of Mary. Zanasi’s approach challenges traditional norms, from casting choices that reject historical de-Judaization practices to innovative stylistic and narrative decisions. Predictably, Zanasi eschews traditional symbols like halos, auras, and emotive music, instead focusing on the earthy connection between the Madonna and Lucia—a refugee wrapped in an oversized jacket amidst bountiful fields.

Throughout the narrative, precise camera movements highlight the evolving relationship between Mary and Lucia, often capturing them together in the same frame—a departure from convention that imbues their interactions with a dynamic quality, resembling a dance or a bout. The comedic potential of Mary appearing exclusively to Lucia further enriches the film’s exploration of its themes. The liberation Mariology exalts the subversive charge of the figure of Mary, first in prophesying the advent of the Kingdom that will overturn injustice, as promised in the Magnificat. Even in Too Much Grace, the discourse on Mary intercepts the revolt against political and economic power, linking motherhood, eco-critical consciousness, and environmental defense. In harmony with feminist Mariologies, Zanasi also restores to Mary a femininity that is not sugarcoated or elusive, but anchored in the vibrant concreteness of a sexed body. Similarly, the film reinvents the figure of the visionary within the context of a society in crisis that also expresses the need for belief and moral and spiritual renewal.

In the same year of 2018, the portrait of a fragile humanity, torn between doubt, idolatry, fear of the future, and awaiting new revelations, takes on additional nuances with L’Apparition [The Apparition] by Xavier Giannoli, which reinterprets the “visionary side” of the experience of vision, echoing questions previously posed by Esteban Larrain in his La Pasión de Michelangelo (Chile 2013). The French film focuses on the contrast between the agonizing search for evidence and “images of truth” that guides an agnostic journalist involved in the canonical investigation around an alleged Marian apparition, and what, by its nature, remains invisible to the eyes and reason. The media circus’ lies and deceptions do not taint the sincerity of Anna’s faith, the teenager who embodies the mission she believes she is entrusted with, even to the point of sacrifice. The figure of the visionary, under scrutiny here, splits in a finale that places a modern Mary in a refugee camp on the border with Syria, escaped from her calling but capable of becoming a new image of maternity and service to others.

Under the ambiguous emotions, spectacle, and irrationalism that accompany the recent proliferation of alleged Marian apparitions, the cinema of the third millennium has rediscovered the figure of Mary as a model of solidarity and human and feminine fulfillment, linking her to our most humble and honest attempt to make sense of the anxieties and struggles of an uncertain present.

by Katia Malatesta
A contributor to the Religion Film Festival in Trento and the Terni Film Festival - Cinematografo Magazine