Chilean film-maker Pablo Larrain is interested in showcasing the impeccably controlled damages done by the institutional authority. With his ‘Pinochet Trilogy’ – “Tony Manero” (2008), “Postmortem” (2010) and “No” (2012) – Larrain excavated the grim historic truths about his country and projected it on a microcosm atmosphere. His last film “No” (starring Gael Garcia Bernal) was about the advertising campaign to oust Pinochet’s regime felt less incendiary and more winsome, but with “The Club” (aka “El Club", 2015), Larrain once again descends down the heart of darkness to give us one of the morally ambiguous, unsettling work of cinema in the recent times. On the outset, it feels like simple, scathing indictment of Church, which protects its pedophile priests. It nearly seems like an expose, a contrasting companion piece to Oscar winner “Spotlight”. But, righteous outrage isn’t the only element that’s burned into the narrative. Larrain profoundly delves into the themes of penitence, justice, abuse of trust, and isolation without offering any of the preordained judgments on the characters.
“The Club” opens on a grim, run-down coastal town La Boca.
Although the sunlight awash the land, Larrain and his DP Sergio Armstrong
employs washed-out blues, cloudy interiors, obscure silhouette to diffuse a
layer of bleakness. We encounter four old men and a middle-aged woman living in
a house with a ominous exterior, near the coast. The four men are disgraced
former priests living at the center of ‘prayer of penance’ under the watchful
eyes of Sister Monica (Antonia Zegers – Larrain’s wife). Father Vidal keeps a
greyhound named Rayo and often spends the time at beach, training the dog for
local races. During the race, the men stand afar at the top of mountain and
watch it through binoculars (as the men are not allowed to contact with outside
world). Monica brings in the dog, and to the envy of local inhabitants, Rayo
wins the races. The winning and bet money has gathered up to 470,000 pesos. The
arrival of new priest Father Lazcano upsets the house’s harmony. The father is
explained about the routines of praying, solitary time and about the
prohibition of self-flagellation, self-pleasuring.
Father Lazcano doesn’t stay there for a long time as a bearded,
disheveled, vagrant Sandokan (Roberto Farias) stands in front of the house and
loudly recalls in graphic detail (‘And sometimes the semen would make me vomit’)
about the sexual abuse hurled at him as a boy from Lazcano. Sister Monica tries
to calm him, but nothing could stop Sandokan from shouting the horrors he
experienced. The threat of being exposed to the whole community looms with
every passing minute. Father Lazcano himself violently intervene the man’s
unstoppable indictment. It leads to the arrival of Father Garcia (Marcelo Alonso), a psychologist priest with intense reform ideas to form the ‘New
Church’. He tries to put them under the microscope after learning about each of
the priests’ crimes. Garcia wants to confront their pathologies, but also has a
predetermined decision on the fate of this damned house.
Spoilers Ahead
The lower contrast, washed-out, melancholic look not only
indicates the general guiltless and bleak nature of the men’s crimes
(which vary from baby snatching to covering-up tortures). It also makes us
observe these damned humans’ pathetic nature in a darkly humorous way. The
portrayal of senile, diaper-wearing Father Ramirez is the embodiment of
absurdity on the part of Church institution. There’s no file on Ramirez,
detailing his crimes and the father himself has forgotten what evil act he had transgressed
to repent in the house. This contrasting absurdity may be observed with an
attuned sense of black humor, but there are also other kinds of contrasts among
the characters, which are unveiled in the most scorching way. We see Father
Garcia as a symbol of righteousness, but before long he is swayed by darkness
that the old urge to defend Church becomes the priority than justice or
morality. There’s also a sharply remarked contradiction in the manner Sister
Monica behaves. She is the minder of the facility, believing in penance &
truth through prayers to God. The first time we see her, she is scrubbing the
house’s yard of dirt, working fast like the good helper she is. Later, she is
scrubbing the same yard to clear Father Lazcano’s blood and lies to authorities
regarding the reasons for his suicide. And, her conflicting dark nature comes
full circle, when she commits vile acts leads to the brutal beating of Sandokan.
Sister Monica more or less in that scene looks at Sandokan as just a piece of
dirt, waiting to be scrubbed away.
The way each character responds to or faces truth is staged
in complex and subtle manner. When
Garcia interviews Father Vidal, Ortega and Silva, he brings out the menacing
things they have done. Rather than shame, all the former priests’ reaction
oscillates between confident rebuttals to stubborn, cocksure attitude. The inability
of Father Vidal and Ortega to understand depth of their evil acts is as
intensely disturbing as the crimes they are charged with. Despite the endemic
nature of the story, writers Guillermo Calderon, Daniel Villalobos and
Pablo Larrain were able to subtly display the allegorical layers of the script.
The house and the activities of its inhabitants often make us reminisce of a
hell on earth. But, then this deliberate construction of hell is also a part of
Catholic Church itself. Hence, we could see the irony of opening words (quoted
from the book of Genesis): “God said, ‘let there be light’, and there was
light. God saw that the light was good, and he separated the light from the
darkness”. “The Club” shows us a reality, where there is no demarcation point
between light & darkness (as God intended), and in fact the ‘inner light’
carrying God’s messengers aren’t able to overcome the pervading darkness
within. As a viewer, we can also take this corrupt nature of Catholic Church
and apply it to any institution that falsely boasts righteousness. We can see
the parallels of how all the faulty institutions and its pawns are forced to
seek only for their survival (and sweep every other thing under the rug).
Director Larrain
shows a good sense in not trying to shoot the description shots for Sandokan’s
graphic descriptions of abuse. The graphic dialogues in the scene were
disturbing that each of our minds would imagine a visual which is more agitating
than any set of visuals. It doesn’t matter that we are nice inside our heart
and mind. The words pierces through us creating the darkest of images. “The
Club” coerces us to think about the non-existent justice inside Church. Despite
reading or watching numerous documentaries, articles and books, we had rarely
heard about a criminal priest, punished by civil justice. If everyone is equal
before the law, why aren’t they facing the consequences for their crime? Church
may be believes in the judgment in the eyes of God and its way of punishment is
seeking penitence through prayers and isolation. Pablo Larrain notes how the
very act of punishment gives them new obsessions and ideas to circumvent the
truth or morality. The ‘house’ is like a prison and a place for priests to strengthen
or redeem their connection with God. However, paradoxically the priests are
protecting their prison, trying to shut down outside forces that may invade the
purgatory. So, in a way the ending and the punishment given by Garcia seems
like a fitting one. Now, the penance won’t be an empty routine because the pain
the priests have caused upon their believers is reflected through a face, a
wrecked personality. The performances are topnotch, and especially Alfredo Castro
(a regular actor in Larrain’s films) gives a profundity to Vidal, whose antics
could have been easily reduced to that of a villainous stereotype.
Trailer
The sins of ‘fathers’ in Pablo Larrain’s “The Club” (98
minutes) is executed with an unnerving air of menace and painstaking nuance.
The movie’s depiction of disgraced priests will burn within our heart and mind.
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