Joan of Arc is escorted into a courtroom to stand trial for heresy. She has been captured by the English and will be tried by French clergymen loyal to them. These judges interrogate her and try to pick apart her claim that God instructed her to drive the English from France. But Joan remains unwaveringly committed her faith and her mission. She is sentenced to torture and then to death. Coerced by the clergymen and frightened by a fiery death, Joan finally confesses to heresy, sparing her life but condemning her to prison. In her cell, Joan’s faith is reaffirmed and she calls to rescind her confession. She is burned at the stake as locals watch in horror and sadness. A riot breaks out as enraged and invigorated Frenchmen and women begin to fight back against the English.
“The Passion of Joan of Arc” is a simple story, told expertly. I’d argue that the film’s performances, cinematography, and storytelling are so advanced, it could be released today and everybody would buy it, simply accepting the ‘silent-part’ of this silent film as an artistic choice. The obvious anchor in this film is Renee Jean Falconetti’s devastating performance as Joan. Falconetti plays this faithful woman with a drugged demeanor, allowing pain and tears to break through her longing stares. And the actors who surround her bring the fullness of their characters as well, depicting evil, doubt, and mercy with only the expressions on their faces. The film does a lot with shadows, highlighting the cold sets and clergymen’s ugliness. Expertly portrayed symbolism shines through, like an ungodly priest stepping over a cross-shaped shadow or the image of a worm, winding through a scull, sewing doubt in Joan at the end. And the camerawork—closeups, off-kilter shots, and dizzying pans—feel like a collaboration between Tarantino and Nolan.
With these very old films, it’s often difficult to know how closely today’s “streaming” version matches what people saw in 1928. For this screening, I watched the Criterion Collection version of the film. It has been stunningly restored into 2k and 24 FPS and the score accompanying the film was Richard Einhorn’s “Voices of Light” (composed in the ‘90s, inspired by this very film). This music is dramatic, haunting, uplifting, and spiritual. It matched and elevated the emotions on screen, giving the images historic weight while serving a ‘modern’ taste. Like the maintenance of a historic wooden roller coaster, gradually rebuilt over and over again, I acknowledge this film has been updated and enhanced—parts have been swapped out. And yet, the spirit of the original film, including the inventive camerawork and gutting performances, remains.
Not to mention (last, but certainly not least), the film’s themes and messages. Youth verses age. Homegrown power verses institutional power. Political power verses religious power. Conventional dress and “cross-dressing”. Martyrdom and the call to arms. And then there’s the image of a young woman being tried and berated by old, power-hungry men. The images reminded me of Christine Blasey Ford’s testimony at the Kavanaugh trials—and countless other instances. The film’s themes are eternal and live on to this day.
It’s for that reason that I am comfortable listing this picture as one of the greatest film’s I’ve ever seen. I’m not sure if it’s in the top 20, or top 50, or top 100. But it’s up there and is one of the oldest films on the list.