Review: The Passion of Joan of Arc

While watching Carl Dreyer’s The Passion of Joan of Arc, I was taken into the agony, confusion and struggle of Joan’s world. With deft camera work, Dreyer placed me into the room with the judges, viewing every detail and expression in both Joan and the judges condemning her. It was a journey of heart, one where the emotions of death and the divine were heavy after the experience.


Even before discussing the pros and cons of the added “soundtrack” to the silent film production, I felt the music was not needed to understand each and every nuance of dialogue, feeling or performance. The direction did that work for us. With quick cuts, extreme close-ups, and perfectly framed characters, the message that the filmmaker was attempting to express was as clear as day. Although moving in itself, the music was not needed for a powerful film experience.

In his book, Transcendental Style in Film, Paul Schrader believes that Dreyer’s Passion in the end is not a transcendental film, but rather in the realm of “expressionist and psychological cinema” [126]. I would tend to agree with his assessment, as the viewer is constantly reminded of Joan’s humanity with a constant barrage of tears and facial expressions. Yes, there is an occasional glance towards a heavenly divine presence – but that glance is always coupled with a cut back to a spiteful judge or concerned priest. Schrader drives home the point that Dreyer “by premeditating the Transcendent on emotional empathy deprives himself of the spiritually elevating effect of transcendental style” [126]. Although this may be true, the life and death of Joan of Arc is seen in all of its gritty humanity. And for this the film is worth seeing for an experience that is transcendent, even if the film may not fit exactly the transcendental style itself.