I’d read the reviews calling it a masterpiece but felt I was going to be left cold by a film this old and this alien to my own atheism. But my goodness. Not only is the style of it absolutely gripping, accomplishing so much with, for the most part, a series of shots of faces, but when there is action - especially at the climax - it is both surprisingly accomplished, quite modern and incredibly moving. It is a masterpiece quite unlike any other I have seen, and the central performance is quite probably the best ever committed to celluloid
This is certainly a demonstration of how much silent films relied on the expressions of their performers to tell a story. The tearful, passionate and desperate expressions of the incredible actress playing the saintly martyr Joan contrast with the leering, outraged and callous faces of the male judges and priests. This silent film also proves that you don’t need audible dialogue or sound to tell a complex, moving (if biased) story of faith, hypocrisy and betrayal. Is Joan a heretical madwoman or a true believer? The film doesn’t fully answer this question for the audience and leaves us with a frantic, brutal, raging ending that declares even Medieval history will always be relevant; should the sheer quality of this cinematic marvel fail to stand up in the 21st century.
Relentlessly austere but mesmeric account of the trial and execution of Joan of Arc at Rouen in 1431 during the Hundred Years' War. It's a classic French silent directed by the Danish Carl Th. Dreyer based on transcripts of the trial. And it has become a critics favourite, invariably in the top 10 of the Sight and Sound poll.
It is most memorable for the high contrast photography, shot on bare white sets, with the actors almost entirely in extreme close up. And for Maria Falconetti's harrowing, mythic title performance. The main impression the film leaves is of her agonised face. At first it conveys rapture, and then fear and finally a tenuous acceptance. There is nothing else like it in cinema.
A curiosity of the film is that it is silent, when the most of the narrative is her trial, and therefore spoken. There are a lot of title cards. It must cross everyone's minds what this film would be if it used the emerging sound technology. The price would have been more restricted camera movement. But what we get is an incredible intensity which builds to an ecstasy of faith.
It can be approached as a document of a historic event; though it is silent, there is an impression of authenticity. But that isn't exactly the spirit of Dreyer's creation because this is an ambient experience which the audience feels personally. And credit for this must be extended to Falconetti, who seems to transcend the limits of the screen, in her only film role.