Fanatically religious nurse is hell-bent on saving the soul of her dying patient
god’s answers come in the form of swirling vortices — clouds, a pint of beer and maud, too. — chris knight
Saint Maud
Cast: Morfydd Clark, Jennifer Ehle Director: Rose Glass Duration: 1 h 24 m Available: On demand
Saint Maud wasn’t specifically crafted to make me miss going to the cinema, but that’s what it did.
A feature debut from british writer-director rose Glass, this body-horror thriller features a dark texture that begs to be viewed on a big screen in a dim room, and a soundscape that really needs better speakers than I have. From barely heard whispers to scrapes and clicks that feel like they’re working their way into your ear canal, Saint Maud makes the best use of sound since Ari Aster’s terrifying 2018 film Hereditary.
Welsh actor Morfydd Clark stars as Maud, though her character’s original name seems to have been Katie. She’s a private nurse providing palliative care for Amanda Köhl (Jennifer ehle), a former dancer who is not going gentle into that good night.
We sense that Katie was not a devout Catholic, but Maud definitely is. There’s no organization to her religion, however. We never see her attend services, and her relationship to her creator is one of constant internal prayer that also functions as the film’s narration.
God’s answers come in the form of swirling vortices — clouds, dishwater, a pint of beer. Sometimes he even speaks to Maud, and who knew that God was a Welshman? Her response to His attention is a kind of ecstasy that borders on the orgasmic.
Maud becomes obsessed with saving the soul of her employer, but when Amanda makes it clear she’s not interested in redemption, the news hits the younger woman hard. Glass handles the issue of Maud’s possibly hallucinatory experiences adroitly. We may not always know what is real, but we certainly get a sense of how it affects the lonely protagonist.
Saint Maud is ultimately a fairly simple narrative with few moving parts. Since Maud’s trauma flows from a single harrowing incident — hinted at in the opening scene, and made more obvious in flashbacks — there isn’t much need for fleshedout secondary characters. This isn’t a criticism per se — in fact, tying us so closely to Maud’s point of view has the effect of making her journey that much more distressing to the viewer.
Had I been lucky enough to view this in a cinema, I would have relished the sunlight and fresh air following the screening. As it is, I’ll have to settle for a brisk walk around the house to shake off the film’s disturbing, fascinating vibe. ★★★½