Hadewijch | Film reviews, news & interviews
Bruno Dumont's portrait of a failed novice seduced by a jihadist's fervent talk of faith
Hadewijch of Antwerp was a 13th-century mystic whose poetry had a formative influence on Dutch literature. Though influenced by the courtly love tradition, the subject of her poems was the love of God and the mysteries of the divine. She was probably not a nun but a beguine – a devout noblewoman in a self-denying contemplative order that carried out works of Christian charity. There is a suggestion in her letters that she may have been exiled from her sisters and yearned to rejoin them.
So it is with the novice (Julie Sokolowski) named Hadewijch who’s cast out of her rural monastery at the start of Bruno Dumont’s transfixing fifth film. An excessively devout theology student, she gives her bread to the birds and dresses inadequately in winter, a form of self-mortification that, says the mother superior, makes her “a caricature of a nun”. Instead of taking orders, she is sent off to discover her “true desires”. A man (David Dewaele) who has been doing building work at the monastery, and who is possibly attracted to her, also leaves the premises, to return to prison for breaking parole. They are linked by their need to remake their lives. Their paths will cross eventually, though not in the most obvious way.
Hadewijch, whose secular name is Céline, returns to the opulent but spiritually dead Paris apartment of her remote mother and cabinet minister father, whom she regards as a patronising “jerk.” She allows herself to be chatted up in a café by three Moslem banlieue boys who marvel at her naïveté. One of them, Yassine (Yassine Salime, right, with Sokolowski), takes her to a gig and vainly tries to kiss her. She later explains to the mystified youth that she’s a virgin in love with God to the exclusion of men and has renounced the idea of sex.
The boy, who’s faithless, and the girl remain close, but she falls under the spell of his older brother, Nassir (Karl Sarafidis), who teaches the Koran. When she attends his class, he dwells on the paradox of God being both visible and invisible, echoing the paradoxical notion of the eternal love of God put forward by the medieval Hadewijch: “Her truest fidelity brings about our fall / Her highest being drowns us in the depths.”
On a daytrip they take to the monastery, Nassir argues that political action, violent if necessary, is essential to faith, and that “God is a sword against injustice.” Passively and somewhat implausibly (for she fears for the innocent), Céline agrees to join his jihad. Suddenly the pair are visiting an unspecified Middle Eastern country where they witness the aftermath of a bombing and meet with the members of a terrorist cell. Back in Paris, they go on a mission…
Subscribe to theartsdesk.com
Thank you for continuing to read our work on theartsdesk.com. For unlimited access to every article in its entirety, including our archive of more than 7,000 pieces, we're asking for £2.95 per month or £25 per year. We feel it's a very good deal, and hope you do too.
To take an annual subscription now simply click here.
And if you're looking for that extra gift for a friend or family member, why not treat them to a theartsdesk.com gift subscription?
The unassailable mother ship of science fiction movies is a sacred cow
Louise Brooks lights up Pabst's melodrama of a young girl's road to ruin and redemption
How can music express the unimaginable?
Austere German drama of extreme religion packs a bleak punch
A subterranean film about the factory of the self
Frantz Fanon’s decolonization seen through 1970s Swedish television Africa archives
A week celebrating the futuristic and fantastical on theartsdesk. Begin transmission...
Three fine actors adrift in a highly pictorial Paris
A return to his Polish roots, Pawel Pawlikowski's latest is a bleak, sacred masterpiece
A chameleonic talent at home in the worlds of theatre, cinema, and comedy
Turkish master Nuri Bilge Ceylan’s Cannes Palme d'Or winner is huge in every sense
Vampire fun from New Zealand