Maurice Pialat’s Under the Sun of Satan could certainly be called a “religious” film, dealing as it does with Catholic angst, theology, a tortured priest visited by Satan, faith, sin, miracles, and redemption. I should say by way of disclosure, in all fairness to readers, that I am not Catholic, Christian, nor religious to any extent. Nevertheless, I enjoyed this film a great deal and apparently more than most other viewers do. Among the ten reviews I found already published for this film from various sources, only two were positive, six were negative, and two were what I would call mixed. When this film received the Palme d’Or at Cannes in 1987, the decision was roundly booed, provoking an obscene gesture from the director toward the audience.

This is not one of those religious films designed to promote religion – it’s more like the kind of discussion of central theological issues that might take place between two priests already fully dedicated to the basics of their religion but still searching for a deeper and more essential understanding. To use a metaphor, watching this film is more like eavesdropping on a secret White House meeting assessing the situation in Iraq than listening to the obligatory optimistic pronouncements for public consumption on the campaign trail. I’d listen into such a meeting, whether or not I agreed with a single person in the room, just for the joy of hearing real issues discussed without spin.

I have as much interest in existential issues as just about any religious person. My personal view is that the closer you get to core philosophical questions, the less you’ll find the difference to be between religious and non-religious viewpoints. It’s only as one moves away from the ineffable core and starts attaching dogmatic particulars that the various philosophies and theologies tear away from one another. This film, though approaching that core from a Catholic perspective, raises issues of deep interest to me as psychological phenomena.

Historical Background: Maurice Pialat (1925-2003) was a film director like none other. He was born in Puy-de-Dôme but was raised in Paris beginning at age three. As a young man, he took up painting and took various jobs on which to survive such as a sales representative for medical products. In 1943, he met his first wife, Micheline, whom he married in 1949. In 1951, he bought his first camera and shot some amateur film footage. He also took a turn at acting in a theater during 1955-6. In 1954, he made the acquaintance of aspiring actor Claude Berri, and the two were like brothers for a time, with Pialat being integrated into Berri’s immigrant family. Pialat and Berri began to dream of making a film together, with Berri as writer and actor and Pialat as director. The product was a short entitled Janine (1962). Another short by Pialat during this same time period, L’Amour Existe (1961) earned a prize at the Venice Film Festival.

In 1960, Pialat separated from his wife to take up with his lover, Colette, who then traveled with him to Turkey, where he was engaged in making documentaries for the Turkish government. Returning to France, he continued in the documentary vein via a series of films for French television during 1965-6. Pialat was deeply pained by the breakup of his relationship with Colette in 1966, but the personal crisis led to a book and, ultimately, his first significant feature film, We Won’t Grow Old Together (1972). During the remainder of the seventies, a transitional phase for Pialat, his most notable film was Loulou (1979). In 1981, while making one of his less important films, Spitz, Pialat established several key professional relationships that would persist for most of the remainder of his life. These included his association with actor Gérard Depardieu, producer Daniel Toscan (whose company would then finance almost all of Pialat’s remaining films), and film editor Yann Dedet. These folks would become known affectionately as the “Pialat tribe.” The next few years gave birth to most of Pialat’s best work, including A Nos Amours (1984), Police (1984), Under the Sun of Satan (1987), and Van Gogh (1991).

It is not the foregoing biographical details, however, that make Pialat such an interesting specimen, but the rather unique filmmaking philosophy that he developed. Pialat is often referred to as a very “difficult” director, but the term has double meaning in this application. Pialat’s films are often difficult for viewers but Pialat was invariably difficult for actors to work with as a director. In neither sense were these difficulties accidental or unintended.

Pialat’s film style is described as “realism” and surely does owe something to the influence of the likes of Rossellini and Renoir, but for Pialat, the term “realism” takes on a distinctive meaning. Pialat’s notion of realism was a quasi-impossible search for the immediacy of a moment – for an underlying truth behind the events portrayed in a scene. Realism for Pialat was not what occurred yesterday, during the writing of a script, or even what occurred moments earlier when a scene was being set up. His goal was to lay bare the interior motivations and feelings of his characters – the essence of a scene to him. To do that, the emotions needed to be fresh and authentic. To achieve that “proximity,” Pialat worked within a more improvisational structure than virtually any other director. If a scene called for intense emotions, Pialat would first bully, torment, and physically threaten his performers until they were emotionally wrought so that the final product would reflect the “reality” of the intensity of the shoot. Pialat wanted an element of chaos and unpredictability in his scenes with respect to the particulars of movement and reaction, but understood precisely the emotional quality he wanted the scene to possess. It is sometimes said that the preparation of a film scene consists of two phases: the set-up of the mise-en-scène and the “attack” (the camera angle, type of lens, and so forth that will dictate how the scene gets translated onto film). Pialat was obsessed with the attack phase and relatively disinterested in the set-up. He was adamant that the latter not be permitted to define the scene. The reality of the scene could not be preprogrammed but could be discovered, instead, by what transpired at the moment.

Pialat believed that the essence of a story was in the relationships between characters rather than in individual characters. He believed that the resentments that people carry about with them, as products of (frequently inexpressible) wounds, were the principal driving forces in all relationships. Every feeling expressed, by this view, whether positive or negative, whether immediate, displaced, sublimated, or deferred, emanates from the same essential human capacity to suffer. Pialat saw his job as director to create a sufficient level of rancor on the set to generate the resentments that would then erupt in the filming process. Nobody left a Pialat filming session unaffected!

Pialat sought not the realism of everyday live, but an underlying realism. “What I understand by realism goes beyond reality,” he said. “Men and women are captured by a machine . . . surrendering an instant of their lives.” He believed that life was inherently sordid but that “cinema transforms what is sordid into something marvelous.” Pialat’s hoped to provide viewers with a mirror to reflect their own inner lives. It is because Pialat films deal with the deep and dark recesses of our interior psychic lives that they are also difficult for viewers to fathom.

The Story: Father Donissan (Gérard Depardieu) is a newly ordained priest given his first parish, but suffering a deep internal crisis of despair and self-doubts. His superior, Canon Menou-Segrais (Maurice Pialat himself), listens patiently to Donissan’s reflections as he trims his hair. “With you it all seems simple,” says Father Donissan. “Alone, I’m worthless. I’m like a zero: only useful with other numbers. Priests are so wretched. They spend their lives seeing God humiliated. People make fun of me. I’m like a wall covered with obscenities.” With these opening lines, we know we’re in for an hour-and-a-half of deep spiritual angst. “I do more harm than good,” he concludes. Father Donissan wants to be recalled to the monastery, feeling that he lacks the intelligence, memory, and discipline to be effective for a parish. The Canon reassures him, “They didn’t see the gift the Holy Spirit gave you. The spirit of strength is within you.” When that reassurance fails to rally Donissan’s spirits, the Canon invokes a stronger message, “You must climb to where God calls you or be lost. Expect no human help. I am giving you to those who will prey on you.” In other words, “Quit whining and get back to work!” Back in his room, Father Donissan beats himself with a chain and mutters, “A man knows what is happening within him. It is an impenetrable secret to anyone else.”

Now the film cuts away to a new subplot altogether. A girl of sixteen, Germaine Malorthy (Sandrine Bonnaire), known as “Mouchette”, has unexpectedly appeared at the chateau of her lover, the Marquis de Cadignan (Alain Artur), who is an aristocrat and a doctor, but financially distressed. Mouchette has just come from an altercation with her parents, who have just discovered that Mouchette is pregnant. Cadignan refuses Mouchette’s idea that they live together though he offers her money for support. He also refuses to perform an abortion for her, which was illegal in France at the time. Mouchette informs him that she’ll turn to her other lover, Gallet (Yan Dedet), who is a wealthy deputy minister. Though married with children, Gallet will likely set Mouchette up in a room as his mistress. Though Cadignan is not moved enough by Mouchette’s alternative to take her in, the flush of jealousy does excite his sexual interest enough to ask Mouchette to stay the night. In the morning, Mouchette picks up a rifle, sticks it under Cadignan’s chin, and pulls the trigger – not really knowing if the gun is loaded but not particularly caring one way or the other. It is loaded and Cadignan falls dead.

Several days later, Mouchette shows up at her other lover’s home. While Gallet enjoys having Mouchette as a lover, he is a bit distressed that she no longer exercises the level of discretion that he feels necessary to keep their affair hidden from his wife. Gallet is surprised when Mouchette tells him that she killed Cadignan, because the death had already been declared a suicide. Gallet himself had participated in the finding. In any case, Gallet has no intention of turning her in, though he now perceives her as more risk than he wants to continue to take. Mouchette comments, for example, that when her father had confronted her about the pregnancy, “I could have stuck scissors in my throat. You two don’t know me. Trouble’s just starting.” “Self-hate,” she adds, is wanting “to sink into a pit where the contempt of fools can’t reach you.” “You’re the only man I don’t lie to,” she tells Gallet, “I lie all the time. Even as a kid, I hated my lies. Why can’t we live like animals? They live unthinkingly all the time.”

Meanwhile, Father Donissan has been sent by his superior to visit the town of Etaples, eight miles distance, to help the Priest there retire. Donissan sets out on foot and, as he walks, night begins to fall. Soon, a man joins him, walking alongside. He introduces himself as a Horse Trader (Jean-Christophe Bouvet). “A dark night, eh?” he says. Yes, we think, a dark night of the soul! He continues, “Darkness draws folks together. It daunts the wiliest. If you met me by day, you’d pass right by.” Soon, both we and Donissan realize that this is none other than an incarnation of Satan. He takes Donissan on a “short-cut” until the Priest falls weary and lost. Planting a kiss on Donissan’s lips, Satan comments, “I’ve kissed others . . . lots of others! Want to know something? I kiss you all! You bear me in your flesh. None of you escapes me!” Donissan remains strong, however, and, resigning for the time, Satan opines, “Cling to your obstinacy! If you knew the fate your master plans for you! We alone are not fooled! We chose his hate, not his love!” Satan then leaves Donissan with a parting “gift”: the power to see clearly into the human soul. “To know oneself, see oneself,” he says, “Who hasn’t dreamed of such a vision?” Usually one can only grasp one thought at a time, but Donissan is given the vision of all thoughts all the time – even his basest subconscious resentments and urges. “You’ll see a few others as you saw yourself” as well, says Satin. Then departing, he concludes, “You will often fondle me thinking you’re fondling the other [God].”

Having lost his way, it is too late to reach Etaples in time to be of service, so Donissan heads back to his home base in Campagne. His detour, however, takes him past Mouchette, who, greatly distressed, is lurking behind a tree by the roadway. “You’re back, Marquis?” she asks. Then, seeing it is Donissan instead, adds, “Oh, it’s only you.” Donissan, with the power given him by the devil, immediately penetrates her entire psyche, sees her pain and guilt, and understands the story of the murder, her parent’s disapprobation, and even sees the accumulated guilt of her ancestors. Donissan tells Mouchette, “I can see you as no other creature has ever seen. Now you can never escape me,” and then proves that it is so by revealing what he sees of her. “You won’t meet many in your choir like me,” says Mouchette. “May your god spare you what I’ve been through.” Donissan returns to his parish where he is chastised for not making it to Etaples. He explains his encounter with Satan to the Canon.

SPOILERS AHEAD. SKIP TO THEMES TO AVOID.

Mouchette is now so filled with self-loathing that she bares her jugular and slices it open with a razor blade. Sensing her distress, Donissan rushes to her bedroom and carries her to the altar of the church, apparently in keeping with an out-of-date ritual. Mouchette’s understandably distraught parents show up along with Gallet to remove her body. For his indiscretion, Donissan is reassigned by the Bishop Gerbier (Marcel Anselin) to the monastery, but is soon being sought after by miracle-seekers. A man named Pierre Havret (Pierre D’Hoffelize) comes to beg his help because his son is dying of meningitis. Though they reside within the parish of Luzarnes, the priest there, Sabroux (Thierry Der’ven), believes only Donissan can help. Donissan arrives, reluctant and embarrassed, to find the boy already dead and the mother (Corinne Bourbon) distraught beyond words. Donissan performs a miracle, restoring the boy to life and his mother, but is left wondering whether it was God or Satan who aided him. “Say who is master, You or him? Show yourself before you abandon me.” Donissan returns to the monastery, grows increasingly ashen, and dies while taking confessions.

Themes: Bernanos, the author of the text on which the film was based, was deeply religious and intended the story as almost religious instruction, reminding readers of the immediacy of temptation and the need for continuous vigilance. In Pialat’s hands, however, the film adaptation becomes as much a psychoanalytical study of the nature of man as a vision of grace or transcendence. Pialat asks us to consider what is the essence of the human psyche or, in religious terms, the human soul? In religious parlance, the film’s basic thematic question is whether it is God or Satan who rules the world. For those not believing literally in such constructs, a non-religious equivalent for those metaphors of God and Satan could read: “Is mankind basically good, with periodic transgressions, or basically evil, with just occasional flourishes of beneficence?” If you've read the background section above, you already know Pialat’s view on the matter, so you won’t be surprised that this film’s answer runs contrary to the usual Hollywood feel-good affirmations of mankind’s inherent goodness. Pialat delivers his message subtly, however, and there’s plenty of wiggle room left for viewers to apply their own individual interpretations. He raises challenging questions without shoving his answers down your throat.

Production Values: This beautifully literate film was based on a novel by a renowned 19th century Catholic writer Georges Bernanos, which was, in turn, based loosely on the life of Cure d’Ars, a parish priest of a small rural French town, who has since been canonized as a saint.

Pialat uses the cinematography of the film brilliantly to impart the tone and significance of each scene. In Mouchette’s two early scenes, we see her consistently framed in soft earthy hues, revealing her sensuous nature. Donissan, while in his home settings, is shown in stark, austere tones, indicative of his religious piety. When he starts out for Estapes, however, the entire frame is toned in deep rust red, as though he were embarking on the roadway to Hades. Later, when he encounters the horse trader/devil, the darkness has closed in around him.

I thought the acting in this film very effective. Pialat is known for his ability to elicit strong performances from professional and nonprofessional performers alike. I’ve always respected Depardieu’s work, even as his girth has gradually expanded. The role of Donissan was especially demanding. I can’t begin to list even a small fraction of his many credits, but some that I’ve previously reviewed include Cyrano de Bergerac, Jean de Florette (see Jean de Florette/Manon), La Chevre, and Get Out Your Handkerchiefs. Sandrine Bonnaire was new to me, though she has done other important films, including A Nos Amours (1984), Police (1984), Vagabond (1985), and Monsieur Hire (1989). She handles her difficult role with aplomb. Among the lesser parts, I’d single out Jean-Christophe Bouvet for his magnificently sinister portrayal of the horse trader cum Satin. Pialat himself played the part of Canon Menou-Segrais.

Bottom-Line: I’m going to do something in rating this film that I’ve never even considering doing for any other film. I’m going to give it a four-star rating – based on my own experience with the film – but I’m also going to check the “No” box for whether I’d recommend it to a friend. Although I personally found value and enjoyment in the film, I believe that the majority of viewers will not for several reasons. This is a very dialog-intense film and the dialog is very dense and difficult as well. For non-French-speaking viewers, there is barely time enough to read the subtitles (which, according to one reviewer, aren’t even complete translations of the original French dialog). Knowing that I was planning to write a review of the film, I paused the film periodically in order to take notes and carefully read the dialog, but I doubt that I could have grasped this film as well as I hope I did watching it at normal speed without pausing it. Then, among the minority who are able to absorb all of the turbid text, some will find the subject all too much “existential posturing” or “matters best left untouched” as some other reviewers have suggested. I’m therefore going to recommend this film ONLY for those with an established taste for films with deep, existential themes. I think that recommendation will be equally valid for readers who are religious or non-religious.

Recommended:
No

Video Occasion: Good for a Rainy Day
Suitability For Children: Not suitable for Children of any age