'No Greater Love' in Miami

This past weekend I attended The John Paul II Film Festival in Miami. Out of my 'wheel house' to say the least.

The first film I caught was Michael Whyte's No Greater Love which is a documentary in (nearly) the purest sense of the word, that (observes more than) follows a convent of nuns in Britain's Notting Hill. The sisters, who have taken a vow of almost complete silence, move through the monotony of their day to day routine as the camera merely observes with an impartial reverence not necessarily for the work they do, but for the methodical mechanics of their bodies. We watch in long, unedited durations, as hands make communion wafers, backs ring bells, and throats swallow food. Each frame is full of movement, and sound wether or not the camera reframes or the sisters speak.
Additionally, very little judgment is made in terms of the importance of one event over another. Whyte photographs (in what Bordwell may refer to as a 'narrative' style) the funeral of an elder nun the same way in which he presents the gardening of green beans. In doing this Whyte plays with our conditioned sense of narrative rhythm, which in turn creates a film that is, much like life, constantly poised on the verge of climax. With a camera that judges all equally, any emotional resonance is purely subjective. If the film does indeed climax, in the traditional sense of the word, it is because of your own personal narrative, not through any manipulation of montage and song. This technique is indicative of a courageous fimmaker who has not yet given up on his audience. A filmmaker not in love with God, but in love with images.
The combination of Whyte's 'narrative' framing and the tenants inherent to documentary itself bring to mind the notion of pure cinema, or at least something very close to pure cinema. However, at the same time there exists an ever present awareness of the camera (e.g. zooms, visible editing), which then evokes the notion of selective framing, micro/macro-editing, etc. What this film ultimately does is remind us of the impossibility of a pure cinema.


The last film I was able to see was St. Bernadette of Lourdes. It is a re-telling of the story of St. Bernadette with an all child cast as if it were a elementary school play. The only reason I mention this film has to do with the extremely 'digital' look of its cinematography. When most are asked to picture the Virgin Mary the first thing that comes to mind is usually an artist's rendering from a painting, a statue, stained glass window, etc., but in St. Bernadette we are given a depiction of Mary in a purely modern medium; digital high definition. Though I know I am giving this film a bit too much credit, it has, for some at least (mainly the scores of children present at the screening), re-contextualized the way they view religious imagery; casting a very modern gaze on something so steeped in antiquity. Wether or not this choice was motivated artistically or economically is ultimately irrelevant.