“Can God forgive us for what we’ve done to this world?”
This is the
question posed to Reverend Ernst Toller (a superb Ethan Hawke) — the lost soul
at the heart of Paul Schrader’s searing theological drama “First Reformed” — by
Michael (Philip Ettinger), a troubled young man who
the pastor has agreed to counsel.
Toller has
agreed to meet with Michael at the request of Michael’s wife, Mary (Amanda Seyfried), who’s become concerned about the way her
husband’s passionate environmental activism has curdled over time into a deep
depression and anger. Now she’s pregnant, and Michael wants her to get an
abortion, believing that bringing a child into a world doomed to environmental
catastrophe and collapse would be immoral.
Bitter,
isolated, and in the midst of his own crisis of faith, Toller finds a certain
joy in his conversation with Michael. Having his beliefs questioned and being
forced to defend them is exhilarating.
As the
pastor of First Reformed, a small, sparsely-attended chapel in upstate New
York, Toller has grown accustomed to preaching to mostly empty pews. The church
is now primarily a tourist attraction thanks to its historical significance as
a stop on the Underground Railroad, and Toller spends more time giving tours
than offering spiritual guidance. The only reason the church continues to
operate at all is because of the continued financial assistance of Abundant
Life, a nearby mega-church run by the affable Pastor Jeffers (Cedric the
Entertainer).
Toller’s own
health is failing, and he’s taken to drinking heavily. In the midst of his
spiritual and physical unraveling, he decides to keep a daily diary confessing
his innermost thoughts, which we hear read by Hawke in voiceover. We learn that
he became a man of the cloth as a means to cope with his own grief after his
son was killed in the Iraq war just 6 months after Toller first encouraged him
to enlist.
One of
Schrader’s best films in years, “First Reformed” grapples with the same
question that plagues its lead character: How can God forgive humanity for so
spectacularly mucking up his creation? It shares Toller’s grim outlook on the
state of world, offering a gimlet-eyed look at the corporatization and
hypocrisy of a church that seems to have abandoned its moral obligations — and
with it, its potential to be a beacon of hope in a world shrouded in darkness.
Michael’s
convictions gradually worm their way into Toller’s head, and later he posts a
version of the younger man’s question on the marquee outside his church. This
newly radical mindset puts him at odds with Jeffers, who’s helping Toller plan
a lavish reconsecration ceremony in honor of First Reformed’s 250th anniversary. The chief donor for the event
is Edward Balq (Michael Gaston), a local
industrialist whose corporations have done more than their share to pollute the
world over the years. But his money makes him inextricable from the church;
during one of their planning meetings, Balq demands
Toller remove “anything political” from the service.
As Toller
becomes increasingly driven toward impulsive, desperate action, what begins as
an introspective meditation on despair builds to a story practically vibrating
with political rage. But there’s tenderness to the film as well; all that
despair can’t exist without hope, and the violence of youthful anger and
extremism coexists with moments of startling grace.
The austere
photography of cinematographer Alexander Dynan emphasizes the story’s uneasy
stillness and bleak, wintry landscapes. Shooting in a tight 1.37:1 aspect
ratio, the frame boxes the characters in, creating the sense that there are few
alternate paths open to them.
Schrader’s
film wears its influences on its sleeve: it shares the basic premise of Ingmar
Bergman’s “Winter Light” and a main character that feels like a contemporary
version of that in Robert Bresson’s “Diary of a
Country Priest.” It’s also got shades of Martin Scorsese’s “Taxi Driver,”
another story written by Schrader, about a lost, angry man searching
desperately for a purpose.
“First
Reformed” deals honestly with the subject of spirituality, wrestling with
metaphysical questions in a way far deeper than typical “faith-based” cinema.
Schrader’s more interested in challenging his viewers than in offering the type
of inspirational platitudes typically doled out by movies pitched at the “God’s
Not Dead” crowd. It’s a bruising experience, one that left even a non-religious
person like me feeling shaken. There’s a sense of existential unease to the
film, not easily dismissed after the credits roll.
This article appears in Jun 6-12, 2018.
