If you’ve ever had a conversation with a Newfoundlander, you would know that our stories take a long time to tell, often due to a constant need to find the thread of genetic lineage, location, or acquaintanceship between the storyteller and each individual within the story. Each new character often merits a caveat of connective tissue. Everyone always knows everyone, be it through blood or coincidence. It’s a predictable, yet always stunningly effective truth that The Righteous employs to full horrific aplomb, making the most of its setting and characters to tell a truly chilling tale of faith, sin, and guilt. The film follows ex-priest Frederic (Henry Czerny) and his wife Ethel (Mimi Kuzyk) as they mourn the death of their adopted daughter and deal with the strange Aaron Smith (Mark O’Brien), a wanderer who shows up injured in their backyard following Frederic’s prayers for a penance. What follows is a well-executed religious horror of the highest degree that pivots on its strong characters and compelling discussion of faith.
The Righteous is shot in stark black-and-white, a decision that is immediately indicative of the stunning work to come by actor-director Mark O’Brien. The first shot opens on Frederic, facing away and praying fervently as light streams in from above in delicate ribbons. Already, the choice of black-and-white accentuates every texture on screen, making even light itself feel like a palpable substance. When combined with the dreary barrenness of Newfoundland nearing winter, the lack of color sets in like a chill you can’t quite shake, enhancing the feeling of isolation that The Righteous’ single setting, a rural farmhouse, elicits. Light and shadow, of course, are the key elements of effective usage of black-and-white in film, and in a movie that engages so heavily with the concepts of faith and damnation, no opportunity goes to waste. Characters descend into black silhouettes at their darkest moments, while at points of heightened tension it can seem as though the light of God itself shines down upon them. A striking shot towards the end of a film’s first act that is particularly echoic of The Night of the Hunter establishes the power of O’Brien’s direction and AA Scott McClellan’s cinematography in seconds, as interior windows silhouette a towering Frederic, shrouding him in darkness as he looks out to find Aaron in his yard for the first time. The film also summons influences from German Expressionism, with its careful use of emotional light and darkness a perfect fit for a land of stark winters and deep woods. Every moment and cut produces new, white-knuckled terror, especially as Frederic and Ethel come to learn more about the mysterious Aaron.
The main element of terror in The Righteous is rooted in its discussion of the Catholic concept of sin, especially as embodied by Aaron. Frederic is a man grappling with faith, as an ex-priest who left the church for Ethel only to have his adoptive daughter taken from him in a cruel twist of the knife, one that he swears to close friend and current priest Father Graham (Nigel Bennett) is divine punishment. Father Graham reminds him to “Be careful what you wish for…but be certain what you pray for.” Thus, the premise is established on the principle of divine uncertainty and religious doubt: Aaron reveals that he may be Frederic’s penance, yet his true nature remains as dubious as Frederic’s prayers. In tune with his enigmatic origins, Aaron offers Frederic an entirely opposite view of redemption than the Church and Father Graham do. He offers Frederic the chance to get “even” with God, telling Frederic that his request is something Frederic owes to both God and himself. When Frederic pushes back, Aaron finally confronts the root of Frederic’s crisis of faith and experience with guilt, asking, “Do you feel guilty to God and no one else?” Thus the curtain is pulled back on the larger themes of faith and Catholicism The Righteous interrogates. It suggests that sin is something more than what can be prayed away, that it may be something inescapable once that evil has been committed. Thus, the role Frederic plays as an ex-priest is similarly called into question, as if he may have brought this all upon himself by abusing the power of priesthood. Ethel, meanwhile, is a good-hearted contrast: she is welcoming to Aaron, ever-loving even, despite his sinister subtleties. Mimi Kuzyk provides a powerhouse performance, one tied closely to a version of religion that is more loving than strict. The Righteous’ exploration of morality and faith is further grounded by the excellent cast and their chemistry. Every conversation and glance between Czerny and O’Brien ripples with animosity in the grandest sense, and even at the film’s most chilling moments Czerny and Kuzyk are so well-matched that their characters’ love for one another is always tragically clear.
The role of faith and God in The Righteous is ever-present in the lives of its characters, yet it is the malleability of this role that shows O’Brien’s true mastery of religious horror. Within the film, God is a malleable concept, more mound of clay than immovable object. What is malleable, it follows, is also easy to manipulate, thus providing the basis for the film’s moral conflicts. To Aaron, God is vindictive and angry. To Frederic, God is cold and authoritative, ever-watching and ever-judging. Every character is tied to faith in some way, furthering the sense of inescapable closeness that accompanies the film’s setting. In a sense, the way we as Newfoundlanders tell stories provides the greatest hint to many of the film’s themes and twists: the past, and our connections to it and others, is unavoidable. The claustrophobic closeness and equal vastness of God’s power and wrath create an insurmountable divide rooted in the living culture and tradition of Newfoundland. From this divide emerges The Righteous, a startling tale of sin, guilt, and divine vengeance that represents the beauty and terror capable at the hands of man and God alike.
[…] Fantasia Review: ‘The Righteous’ […]