Maxance Vincent
If you thought, with Brady Corbet’s The Brutalist being one of 2024’s most formally accomplished movies, that Mona Fastvold’s The Testament of Ann Lee (or the Woman Clothed by the Sun with the Moon Under her Feet) would be in the same vein as Corbet’s monumental achievement, then you should check those expectations at the door. Of course, it’s easy to think that the follow-up to such a movie, with pretty much the same team at the helm, would approach the same aesthetics that made The Brutalist soar, especially as both Fastvold and Corbet co-write the screenplay, just like they did with the 2024 Oscar-nominated epic.
However, The Testament of Ann Lee is unlike anything the husband/wife writing/directing duo has done either in their paired or respective solo careers. It’s billed as a musical drama, but the songs are not what you expect, nor does the music fit the time period in which Fastvold tells her story. It’s a far more indescribable object than The Brutalist was, which makes The Testament of Ann Lee an immediate must-see for its sheer ambition alone, even if it does have a few missteps along the way. However, I won’t be able to forget the out-of-body experience I had while watching one of the most unconventional credit sequences I’ve ever seen, immediately hooking audiences inside a hypnotic, almost primal dance choreography to introduce us to the titular figure of Ann Lee (Amanda Seyfried), a highly influential religious figure within America during the mid to late 1700s.
It’s as singular a work from Fastvold as The Brutalist was for Corbet, yet The Testament of Ann Lee is the complete polar opposite of anything you’d expect from either of them. The only point of similarity is that both films were shot on 70mm (which the print sadly broke after the first 20 minutes of the movie and had to be switched to DCP at the press and industry screening I attended at the Toronto International Film Festival), Fastvold and Corbet wrote the screenplay, and the music is composed by Daniel Blumberg. The rest of it is wholly personal and feels very much in line as the next logical step in Fastvold’s solo filmography than anything Corbet made, which could prove shocking for anyone unfamiliar with the Norwegian filmmaker’s body of work.
Blumberg’s music is the primary engine that fuels the entirety of The Testament of Ann Lee and constantly surprises us by employing anachronistic instruments that give a more psychologically active dimension to Fastvold’s intricate direction of musical numbers. It simply isn’t a mere “song and dance” film. The songs are integral to our understanding of Ann Lee’s beliefs, and, more importantly, why the “Shakers,” the movement Lee founded, felt such a close connection to a higher power. When an electric guitar hits during the movie’s midsection, to represent a shift in Ann Lee’s thinking on her own beliefs in a higher power, all that can be said is: wow.
The film’s razor-sharp cutting, courtesy of Sofía Subercaseaux, also contributes to the rhythm of many musically driven sequences, which actively explore the psyche and raw emotional power behind the “Shakers” movement. Believing she is the female incarnation of Christ, Ann Lee will lead a group of devoted followers to America in the hopes that this newfound religion, with a much closer, intimate connection to God, will literally and figuratively shake the world. Each sequence where the characters “shake” in communicating with Christ is jaw-dropping. The rhythm of the movements is entrancing and intoxicating, punctuated by music that may be even better than the one that gave Blumberg a thousand flowers for The Brutalist.
And Seyfried is phenomenal. She’s never been better. It’s the most electrifying and downright astonishing performance of her career. As soon as she appears, we’re transported inside her mind with a bevy of spiritually-charged images that stun our souls, as Ann Lee develops an active connection with the Good Lord that few believed was possible. It’s simply not just praying or having some form of proximity with a figure you believe in, but it’s primitive and ingrained deep within the person. Shaking (the way Fastvold represents it in the movie) feels profoundly liberating for the figure who accomplishes it, and gives them a power they thought they never had.
It’s a movie that trusts its audience to feel the emotions that the actors convey, rather than telling a more cohesive, paint-by-numbers story, as Corbert did in The Brutalist. In some ways, this can be a feature, and it definitely is during sequences of immense musical power, but it can also be a bug, especially when attempting to form some connection with the supporting actors who populate the story. The movie has more interesting things to say about religion than most mainstream offerings, which gives it a bit of an edge, as our polarized times seem afraid to say anything about what they’re treating on film.
And while Seyfried’s performance is unimpeachable and the definite highlight of her illustrious career (while also strangely responding to the masterful Mamma Mia! adaptations, almost as if they were training for the role she was born to play), the rest of the cast doesn’t fare as strongly. What a shame this is, too, because the film is stacked with talented actors who have previously proven themselves capable of handling anything their way.
Lewis Pullman, in particular, has nothing to do as Ann’s brother, William, while Thomasin McKenzie narrates the picture, but her presence in the film is minimal. Similar fates await Stacy Martin, Christopher Abbott, and Tim Blake Nelson, who are there, but their characters feel incomplete, almost as if a good chunk of their development was left on the cutting room floor. That said, The Testament of Ann Lee is filled with recognizable figures making blink-and-you’ll-miss-it appearances, adding a particular layer of fun to a movie that doesn’t really warrant it (but it did get many good laughs out of the audience on certain strong occasions).
What’s most compelling about The Testament of Ann Lee, and why it primarily works, is Seyfried, who hypnotizes us from the minute she appears all the way to its devastating final image. And the movie is, as expected, a visual treat and looks immaculate on the biggest possible screen you can find. Regrettably, the 70mm print stopped working after the first twenty minutes or so, because the texture of film gave the screen immense depth and color that the DCP never lived up to (even if William Rexer’s cinematography is frequently gorgeous).
My opinion may differ if I were to see the whole thing on film, but The Testament of Ann Lee is still worth your attention. Maybe it may not be as strong as The Brutalist, but it’s definitely Fastvold’s most formally – and thematically – accomplished work. She positions herself as one to watch, as she will soon decide what the next stage of her career will look like. Even if her latest film may not be perfect, there’s no denying that Fastvold and Corbet have become talents no one can ignore behind the camera, making singular works of art that are always worthy of your attention and time.
SCORE: ★★★
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