Norwegian director Mona Fastvold, who co-wrote The Brutalist with her husband, Brady Corbet, goes all in stylistically on The Testament of Ann Lee, an exploration of the life of the founder of the Shaker movement.
A bit of background: Shakerism began in the 1740s in Manchester, England, moving to the US in 1774, where it attracted some 6,000 members at its peak.
Departing from the Protestant Christianity of its day, Shakers recognized sex as the source of all evil, resulting from animalistic urges released when Adam and Eve copulated in the Garden of Eden.
Beyond that, Shakers believed God had a masculine and feminine nature. Jesus manifested God's masculinity. Ann Lee proclaimed herself the manifestation of God's feminine nature. She was the Second Coming.
I'm no expert on Shaker theology. Much of what I've just said comes from research, but I offer it here by way of introducing a movie that's deeply rooted, as was its main character, in what might be called "radical expression."
Although Fastvold's movie covers much of Lee's life, it can't be viewed as a traditional biopic. Testament bills itself as a musical -- albeit not the kind that leaves you humming on the way out of the theater.
Fastvold's musical numbers stem from the way Shakers prayed. Public confessions were followed by quaking and shaking, speaking in tongues, and other ecstatic movements that were thought to lead to purity.
Choreographer Celia Rowlson-Hall gives the movie's dances a rhythmic, ritualized quality inspired by Shaker worship. Incorporating the influence of Shaker hymns, composer Daniel Blumberg's score occasionally strikes harsh chords that seem intended to shock us out of complacency.
I begin by describing the movie's tonal atmosphere, greatly helped by the work of cinematographer William Rexler, because The Testament of Ann Lee speaks in its own voice, and its musical numbers sometimes make it feel like an extended art piece.
None of that obscures the power of Amanda Seyfried's vigorous, committed performance as Ann Lee. Seyfried embeds Lee's charisma in religious commitment rather than in showy displays of oratory. Seyfried's deeply physical portrayal of a woman who renounced the flesh grounds a portrait that easily could have drifted into an ethereal haze.
The movie quickly gets some basics across: Ann Lee had been married prior to her revelations about sex. Intimate, arduous scenes of sexual intercourse with her husband (Christopher Abbott) are followed by agonizing scenes of childbirth.
Lee lost four children before any of them reached the age of one, a fact some cite as motivation for her advocacy of celibacy. Abbott's James is sympathetic and supportive of Ann's beliefs until he can no longer abide her celibacy -- or his own.
Fastvold brings rawness to her early scenes, which have a graphic quality. Blood and sex underscore the carnality of the world that Lee would reject. The movie then assembles bits of Ann Lee's life like pieces of austere Shaker furniture, which -- by the way -- receives no mention until late in the film.
A prison sentence Lee served in England for her pacifist views provides an opportunity for surrealistic flourishes that underscore the jailhouse visions that cemented Lee's newfound beliefs and her need to propagate them.
Mostly, though, Testament remains earthbound, assembling bits of Ann Lee's life like pieces of austere Shaker furniture, which -- by the way -- receives no mention until late in the film.
As the story progresses, it becomes less internal, focusing more on the world Lee encounters. New segments are marked by title cards that set up events or establish a mood.
When Lee leads her followers across the Atlantic, shipboard scenes roil with turbulence, perhaps the equal of the shock of the earlier birth scenes. Her movement would be reborn in the New World -- albeit not without obstacles, including violent attacks by some who saw her as a heretic.
The story culminates in 1784 with Lee's death at the age of 48, leaving it to us to remember that the 18th century wasn't known for the kind of fierce female leadership embodied in Seyfried's work.
Now, for some critical cautions. I respected what Fastvold accomplished, but my involvement became increasingly intermittent as the movie wore on. Running voice-over narrations delivered by several of the movie's characters, as well as production designer Sam Bader's period recreations, sometimes made it feel as if the story were taking place in an alternate universe, cinema in a bubble.
Centering the movie on major events in Lee's life, almost a chapter-and-verse approach, can create a draggy, episodic quality. I wouldn't want to discourage anyone from giving the movie a try, but at times during the film's 136-minute run time, boredom fogged my mind.
Still, I can't bring myself to harsh rejection. Fastvold and her team are as committed to their approach as Lee was to hers. She makes few concessions to crowd-pleasing even if her movie sometimes feels trapped by the same formality and rigor that defines its best moments.
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