The formidable maiden

The figure of Joan of Arc, known as the Maid of Orleans, attracts storytellers of every kind, be that novelists, playwrights, or filmmakers, who each share a fascination for by the mystery of her life. The saintly figure presents extraordinary traits to draw from. Principally, this was a rich humanity that was animated by unwavering faith, which drive her to perform actions outside of the ordinary. All told, this is unimaginable for a teenager in the 15th century, who was the daughter of peasants and illiterate. She is one of the most often portrayed heroines on the big screen in history. Masterpieces range from the dawn of cinema - memorable is Domremy: La maison de Jeanne d’Arc [Domremy: The House of Joan of Arc] (1899) by the Lumière brothers - to the recent and marvelous Jeanne (2019) by Bruno Dumont.

Born around 1412 in Lorraine, at the age of 13 Joan claimed to hear mysterious voices. Saint Michael, Saint Catherine, and Saint Margaret ask her to free France from English occupation and to have the dauphin Charles VII crowned. At the age of 16, having obtained an army despite having no military experience, she liberated Orléans in just eight days, which had been under siege for seven months. She then secured the coronation of Charles VII at Reims. However, after these triumphs, she was abandoned by the King of France, then captured and handed over to the English. After a year of imprisonment, in 1431, she was condemned as a heretic and burned alive in Rouen. She was just 19 years old. In 1909, she was Beatified, then Canonized in 1920 by Benedict XV. In 1922, Pius XI proclaimed her the patron saint of France.

Why is Joan of Arc still capable of captivating and astonishing so many, not only in France but also beyond, even outside the Catholic world?

There are primarily two reasons, which are evoked in the numerous films dedicated to the Maid of Orleans.

First, the saint is a symbol of a courageous and uneducated woman, who is capable of emancipating herself from her condition and its respective duties. It is unthinkable for a woman of her time, especially the daughter of a peasant, to access military command positions. Joan rode horses, shouted orders, and carried a sword: her insistence on wearing men’s clothing weighed heavily against her throughout the trial as a serious heresy contrary to natural law.

Second, the position of the young woman – illiterate yet bearing a divine Word – jeopardized the ecclesiastical hierarchy’s position of power of, despite her fervent desire for communion with the Church, which she expressed on numerous occasions during the trial.

These two dimensions – the socio-revolutionary impact of Joan and the staunch opposition to the ecclesiastical hierarchy – are omnipresent in the numerous films dedicated to the Maid of Orleans. The diversity of cinematic approaches offers a wealth of perspectives that are capable of speaking to audiences of all kinds.

Some films have taken on the daunting challenge of recounting her life, from her youth to her death by being burnt at the stake. Among these, it is worth mentioning three great epics.

Joan of Arc by Victor Fleming (1948) is a classic, uplifting, Hollywood biopic, with “attributes of mannerism” reminiscent of biblical epics, and a vehicle for the radiant lead actor, Ingrid Bergman, at the peak of her career. The red-incandescent skies and composition of the framing recall his previous work in Gone with the Wind (1939). Bergman’s Joan stands out for her humility and fragility, despite her glorious successes.

Another example from Hollywood is Saint Joan by Otto Preminger (1957), based on a theatrical play by George Bernard Shaw, with a screenplay by Graham Green. There are certain solutions found in the theatrical text that bring originality and freshness to the film. Joan, played by a skilled and beautiful Jean Seberg, returns from heaven to comfort Charles VII. It is an opportunity to revisit her adventures with some of her old companions, whether they be dead and alive. The picture is not devoid of miraculous accents, for example, a young girl appears, who is adept at encouraging the Dauphin of France to assume his responsibilities. Initially she is confident, though the trial will severely test her convictions.

The same ambition to follow the deeds of the Saint from childhood to martyrdom also distinguishes Luc Besson’s The Messenger: The Story of Joan of Arc (1999). This is a French production but with a Hollywood cast including John Malkovich and Dustin Hoffman, and portrays a super-heroine Joan (played by Milla Jovovich) as a fierce fighter. The mysticism of the saint is “violently” depicted through the representation of some of her visions. One noticeable characteristic is it imbued with a video game-like aesthetic.

There are two films that are of a completely different genre. Yet, they can be described as milestones in the history of cinema and essential to our consideration when discussing the cinematic representation of Joan of Arc. The first,  The Passion of Joan of Arc, a silent film by Carl Theodor Dreyer (1928), and Trial of Joan of Arc by Robert Bresson (1962). These two films are united by the intention to focus the narrative on Joan’s trial and death by burning at the stake. Dreyer’s work evokes the gradual conformity of the saint to Christ, a purpose made evident by the choice of title and the numerous crosses prominently framed in sequences preceding her martyrdom. The materiality of bodies and faces (especially the intense close-ups of actress Renée Falconetti’s unadorned face) and the use of light illuminate the film with mysticism and sacredness. It is essential and intense cinema; the expressive power of the images is heightened by the absence of sound.

Equally effective, albeit in a radically different style, is Bresson’s masterpiece.

Here Florence Delay, a non-professional actor, portrays Joan. She is one of his “models,” a term the director used to refer to his actors. This rejection of expressive acting suggests the truth of gestures and gazes. Stripped of any spectacular dimension, while adhering to the historical reality of the trial’s minutiae, his “cinema of subtraction” places man before bare reality, the poorest of facts. Its “inquiring essentiality” suggests the presence of another world, which is perceptible in the simplest materiality. Perhaps this is the best way to suggest the mystery of the saint’s life and her relationship with God.

A mention here is also deserving to the poetic Joan of Arc at the Stake by Roberto Rossellini (1954), which was based on a text by Paul Claudel. In the saint’s role, we find a more mature Ingrid Bergman. Once in heaven, Joan meets Saint Dominic, which is an opportunity to evoke - with a theatrical style - the main events of her life and the injustice she suffered.

Last, it is worth mentioning two recent films that are remarkable for their freshness of language and expressive power, both by the French filmmaker Bruno Dumont, winner this year of the Jury Prize at the Berlin Film Festival with Empire. The first, Jeannette (2017), is a rock opera about the childhood of Joan of Arc, a musical with lyricism capable of evoking today, for the public, the inner world of the Saint. The second, Joan (2019), follows Joan from battles to her death at the stake. The protagonist of both films is Lise Leplat Prudhomme, ten years old at the time of the second film. She is a child wearing armor, with a timeless and a powerful glow of light and mystery.

In conclusion of this (incomplete) overview, we emphasize how the cinema of Bresson and Dumont presents two opposite and effective ways to suggest the elusive greatness of Joan of Arc: on the one hand, the purest essentiality; on the other hand, an original, contemporary language far from a historical-realistic approach.

By PIERO LORENDAN
Priest, Student of theology at the Centre Sèvres in Paris - Cinematografo Magazine