The story is delivered through the wonderful narration of Sister Mary Partington (Thomasin McKenzie), which allows us to enjoy a wonderful episode that was the product of hearsay or gossip. Yet Fastvold is measured admirably in the way it presents Lee as a historical curiosity that we will never get too close to. It’s hard to think of a more perfect actor than Seyfried for the role, his big eyes emphasizing both his ability to draw people to his cause and his incredible ability to use the troubles and grief heaped upon him and his faithful followers. We learn that, in her formative years, she lost four children before they reached one year of age, and the entire film can be read as Ann’s way of processing a series of excruciating pains that would lead many to give up.
Fastvold sees Ann as a champion of gender equality, yet his film is nowhere near hagiography. There is no hackneyed intertitle list emphasizing his success at the end of the film, rather the intention of it Ann Lee’s Testament passes an attempt to rescue Ann’s celebrity after the fact. The film is serious and questioning when it comes to the many contradictions of Ann’s creed, especially in her focus on human happiness and compassion and in favor of the earth’s natural abundance while rejecting sexuality and reproduction, making the Shakers the object of their Doomsday cult. When they arrive in New York after a punishing Atlantic crossing, Ann quickly spits venom at the organizers of a street corner slave auction, yet she is free to exercise her brand of cultural imperialism by bringing her gospel to America. A film that addresses its subject with a level of historical accuracy and distance rarely seen in cinema, while using this distance to add its own subtle layer of rhetoric and commentary.
For a touch of pure cinematography, a shout-out is truly due to cinematographer William Rexer, whose beautiful images help elevate the film above the banal aesthetic of a typical historical biopic, while Sam Bader’s meticulous production design rests on a Shaker-flavored worldview. However, top marks go to composer Daniel Blumberg, whose rich achievement here is head-spinning to say the least. He creates a slightly improvised version of the Shaker atmosphere woven into the film’s edge, and it’s admirable how strong he is with the same tone and musical energy, never reaching inappropriate musical moments or throwing moving crescendos to work. He received an Academy Award for his work on Brady Corbet The Brutalist (co-written by Fastvold, and Corbet returns the favor here), and one hopes that he will be duly rewarded for a much stronger and more impressive work.
But it is Fastvold who somehow brings all these elements together with such brio and brilliance, expanding the possibilities of recorded history in time and making a film capable of delivering songs straight to the head, heart and gut. Unlike Ann, this is not a film that preaches to its flock, and it is one that has led to many discussions after watching it with colleagues about its purpose and intent. On the first watch, the movie that reminded me the most was Lars von Trier’s cursed digi soundtrack, Dancer in the Dark (2000), in the way it combines the pain of human suffering with the trend of music and dance. But if I continue to reflect, I am reminded of the cinema of the great Agnès Varda, whose vision of feminism was always subject to doubt, curiosity and the wonderful mysteries of existence.
