User Reviews

Minimalist French Writer/Director Robert Bresson created Les Anges Du Peche following a year in Nazi captivity during World War II. Knowing this bit of information helps us possibly understand why he made this film. Two women meet at a convent, one becomes a novice and the other is serving out her remaining sentence for a crime she did not commit. The novice Anne-Marie, played by Renee Faure, is inexplicably drawn to the convicted thief Therese, played by Jany Holt. Therese unexpectedly becomes a catalyst for Anne-Marie's growing rebellion as a novice, eventually resulting in a change in both women. The performances by both actresses are excellent, and Bresson fashions an incredibly interesting philosophical story about various themes both religious and secular in nature.

Surely, one of Bresson's explored themes is captivity here, as he had just experienced the brutality of Nazi wardens during the war. In the film, Bresson examines various elements of captivity: captivity of body, captivity of soul, one's moral superiority holding one's self captive, one's anger and frustration holding one's self mentally captive, and being captivated by others who influence our actions. Before the fadeout, forgiveness, humility, pride, redemption, and sacrifice are given the once over as well. Bresson seems to indicate we can not separate our spirituality from our humanity. The inner and outer worlds exist side by side and one influences the other and vice versa. Hence, the irony of the film's title.

Bresson garnered a reputation for being a minimalist director; in that, he only focuses on what's necessary to tell his story. There is no unnecessary subplot or extraneous footage shot. He frames scenes focusing on lone characters in the center or in two shots of two actresses without fancy cutting or editing. Bresson utilizes sound with Therese's screams, the grinding wheels of the meal cart, and the escape alarm to emphasize her captivity in the convent, and his depiction of her trying to escape where there is no room for it, huddled in the corner of the frame before being led back to her cell, mirrors our own existential dilemma in life. The entire film uses the convent as its setting (with a few very brief exceptions), demonstrating even the director is held captive by his subject matter. The film builds a little slowly and then grows on the viewer as it develops further. It's a very interesting philosophical exercise. *** of 4 stars.

To a Dominican convent with a special mission of accepting ex-prisoners comes Anne-Marie (Renée Faure), strong-willed, devout daughter of a wealthy family. She is convinced that she has a mission to help recover the souls of the despairing, and she works enthusiastically to be allowed to visit the prison. When she does, she encounters a woman, Thérèse (Jany Holt), anything but a model prisoner—she screams and tries to escape. Thérèse confides in Anne-Marie that she has served two years in prison for some one else's crime, and hints that she will seek revenge. An intervention at the time of her release fails; Thérèse leaves the prison, buys a pistol, and kills the man who betrayed her.

Not long afterwards she arrives at the convent door. She is accepted by the Mother Superior, and Anne-Marie takes her under her wing. But she does so too much, treating Thérèse like a pet or a prodigy. Thérèse is mostly silent while Anne-Marie gushes. Here's where the tricky part arises: from the start Anne Marie is anything but humble. She is driven by a vain, arrogant sense of the importance of her mission, and this leads her into negligence of her assigned duties, failure to submit to authority, and assuming she is exceptional. Her insubordination grows worse, and Thérèse spitefully tells her that one of the chief nuns likes her and the other does not. The latter has a cat, and Anne-Marie takes exception to it. Soon it is difficult to tell whether she is mad or singularly blessed, but when she refuses to do an assigned penance, she is expelled from the convent.

Anne-Marie does not return home, but hides in a barn by day and prays in the convent cemetery by night, until she collapses on the founder's grave in a rainstorm, almost dying of hunger and exposure. The sisters bring her inside to die. Near the end, she holds onto Thérèse, saying that she must die because she has failed to do the task she undertook, that is, to convince Thérèse of the joy of god's love. And Anne-Marie confides in Thérèse that she had no regrets because she loves her. At this point Thérèse becomes angry, telling Anne-Marie that she is just turning to friendship because the strategy of superiority has failed. Her heart is not just hurt, but dead, she says, and cries out as she leaves, why can't I be alone? You already are, Anne-Marie says softly, and that's why your pain is so great. Thérèse returns to her bedside.

As the nuns gather to witness Anne-Marie's death, and the police arrive downstairs, the mother superior offers her the opportunity to take her vows. When she cannot speak, Thérèse, holding on to her, speaks them for her. Slowly she rises, smiling, kisses her feet, and walks calmly through the crowd of kneeling nuns. The movie ends with her advancing, wrists crossed, and the click of handcuffs.

What has happened here? For one thing, Anne-Marie has done everything wrong, at least by the rules of the Dominican order, for she has placed her own will above everything else, and has been guilty of great spiritual pride. But she has also been humbled by her failure to become a true nun, by her expulsion from the convent, and by the failure of her attempt to give Thérèse the gift of peace. Until nearly the end of the story, Thérèse has been skeptical and bitter. When Anne-Marie says that one thing could make her live—the change she hopes for in Thérèse—then at last she seems to understand that Anne-Marie does not want to take over her life. Anne-Marie, she understands at last. really longs for her happiness. Her love for Thérèse survives failure and humiliation, and it is this love, with the egotism burned out, that succeeds where her hyperactive will to do good has failed. Though Thérèse returns to prison, she is calm and resigned, her heart and soul at rest. Within the confines of the cloister this subtle spiritual drama unfolds relentlessly, and the two principle actors always fascinating to watch—Faure is smiling and radiant, Holt wild-eyed in prison and steely calm in the convent. The other nuns are all fine, and they furnish a context of rigor and forgiveness. The movement and setting and photography and the use of light and shadow are all austere and beautiful.