Whilst depictions of loneliness are not rare in genre cinema, on odd occasions a film comes along which treats the subject with a level of sophistication and subtlety which is both compelling, and difficult to do justice in words. Saint Maud (2019) definitely fits into this category. Having some similarities to Lucky McGee’s May (2002) in terms of subject matter, Saint Maud nonetheless disposes with the left-field ‘kookiness’ and colour of that film (accepting that the earlier film does of course wind up in a very dark place). Stylistically and tonally, there are some links to Possum (2018). But whilst similarities and connections can be noted, Saint Maud is very much its own beast nonetheless. This is a very finely-wrought, often subtle film which trusts the audience to fill in the gaps. It also trusts in our empathy, even when our central character grows increasingly destructive. It’s a trust which is amply rewarded.
Maud (Morfydd Clark) is a nurse, and we meet her just as she’s about to embark on a new role: she will live in with her new patient, Amanda Kohl, offering living support and palliative care. Kohl (Jennifer Ehle), once a renowned dancer and minor celebrity, is terminally ill with cancer; there’s an obvious disconnect between Maud’s new-found piety as a born-again Christian and Kohl’s defiance of her condition, electing to drink, smoke and enjoy herself as much as she can whilst she can. However, a guarded relationship begins to form between them. As we find out more about this quiet, introverted young woman, we are given hints that something terrible lurks in her past; this is revealed little by little, and some of the burden of Maud’s pre-conversion days is never discussed, only shown to us – little physical clues, for example – or alluded to in the script. For Maud, her religion is very real and the crutch upon which she leans; she asks for answers from God, talks to Him as if they have a cordial relationship, and pleads for the sense of direction she desperately wants. Soon, she feels he has revealed it to her: her mission is to save the soul of the lost Amanda Kohl, bringing her to the light before it’s too late.
Yet, for all the sense of purpose this bestows, Maud’s certainty in God is soon tested and her quiet introversion begins to slip. She begins to veer back and forth, between elements of her old life and her desperation to hang on to the new. Having a purpose provides great responsibility, therefore it’s a source of anxiety and it’s something this damaged young woman cannot sustain. Her subsequent disassociation is deeply involving and difficult to watch; she’s ever more a person not equipped to cope with a grasping, mean, superficial world and she moves away from it.
The use of religious ecstasy in the film is very interesting. For Maud – in the early parts of the film – it seems connected to her need for direction, for a purpose; when she thinks she has it, she exists momentarily on a level with what she believes to be a higher power. It is not sexual – it has replaced sex. When religious ecstasy isn’t possible, sex is – as is mania, which comes later satisfyingly spoken in Welsh to reflect actress Clark’s heritage. Maud tries to encourage her patient to replace the pleasures of the flesh with something spiritual and is led to believe that she has been successful; her disillusionment is a central plank in what later goes wrong for her, and even as a non-believer, the crushing sense of loss which Maud feels is really rather difficult to watch. Equally, Maud’s state of mind is always presented rather adroitly, her facial expressions and gaze revealing the most part of the turmoil she’s feeling. We even get odd moments of bleak humour. Again, it feels very much that director Rose Glass trusts her audience to see this; the script so rarely spells anything out that moments when the film breaks out of this subtlety are genuinely shocking. Morfydd Clark is phenomenal as Maud, an almost frail girl emoting huge existential crises with a glance or a sob. Equally, Jennifer Ehle – whose genuine motivations are never really explored – is an ambivalent character in her own right, equally as deserving of sympathy, despite her own wrongdoing. Characterisation is never fully straightforward, but it definitely allows empathy and understanding, even whilst not liking everything which unfolds.
It takes skill to represent a flawed character, like Maud, who calls to us through all her flaws and her actions. Add to that a fantastically-framed and shot film, with the sad faded artifice of Scarborough forming a suitable backdrop for what unfolds, and we have a fantastically sad, sophisticated but oddly redemptive story. It’s not an uncomplicated response, and to reiterate, it hasn’t felt easy to do this film justice. But if you have space in your heart for a character-driven, sensitive exploration of mental states via moments of note-perfect horror, then this is for you.
Saint Maud screened at FrightFest Glasgow on Saturday 7th March 2020.