First Reformed
FIRST REFORMED, drama, rated R, Violet Crown, 3 chiles
First Reformed is a prayer wrenched, or perhaps self-flagellated, from the Calvinist heart of its writer-director, Paul Schrader, the aging erstwhile wunderkind of cinema who is probably best known for his screenplays of some of Martin Scorsese’s greatest films, like Taxi Driver (1976) and
Raging Bull (1980). His directing achievements have not risen to that level, but there are 23 of them, and films like Affliction (1997), American
Gigolo (1980), and his 1982 remake of the horror classic Cat People have won him a certain measure of acclaim among a wider scattering of lows.
This one follows the slow descent of Ernst Toller (Ethan Hawke), the pastor of a small upstate New York church, from soft-spoken reverend to unhinged radical. A former army chaplain, his career and his marriage have crumbled under his guilt over his son’s death in Iraq. Now Toller stumbles from day to day, drinking a little too much, fornicating lovelessly, dealing with the deterioration of his body and soul, recording his thoughts in his journal, and ministering to the few souls who show up at his church. The First Reformed Church is about to celebrate its 250th year, a ceremony that is now under the compromising auspices of the wealthy nearby megachurch presided over by the genial Rev. Jeffers (Cedric Kyles, also known as Cedric the Entertainer).
One of Toller’s parishioners is a young woman named Mary (Amanda Seyfried), who is pregnant and concerned about her husband, Michael (Philip Ettinger), an environmental activist preoccupied with the morality of bringing a baby into this foul world. He wonders if God will forgive us for destroying His creation. Toller counsels the young man, but later things turn even darker, and Mary discovers a suicide vest packed with explosives in their garage. If you’re familiar with the dramatic principle of Chekhov’s gun, you know we’ll be seeing that vest again.
Schrader appears to have modeled this film on several of his early influences, including Carl Theodor Dreyer and Robert Bresson. Its style is rigidly, self-consciously formal to the point that even passing extras appear to be strictly choreographed. But for the most part, it works, serving as a chalice for the presentation of a dense and absorbing flow of ideas.
That flow spins a bit out of control as the movie enters its feverish endgame, where fantasy mixes with terror and romance. It finally comes to a strange finish that will have you wondering if the projector bulb burned out.
A friend who knew Schrader well in his younger days said that he comes from a guilt-ridden, fundamentalist Calvinist background with parents who believed absolutely in a place called Hell. “Daddy and I will miss you in Heaven,” his mother once wrote him. — Jonathan Richards