Mother

Bluesky

Macedonian filmmaker Teona Strugar Mitevska turns the dial all the way up to 11 for this kinetic and intense but rather shallow snapshot of a week in the life of Mother Teresa. The Catholic nun, who was canonised in 2016, has remained a controversial figure – not least for her dogmatic stance on contraception and abortion, questions about which are front and centre in this unorthodox biopic, which opened Venice’s Orizzonti section.

It’s 1948 and Mother Teresa (played with hard-edged fanatical fervour by Noomi Rapace) is a woman who wants to be on a mission. The Sisters of Loretto Convent in India, whose outreach largely involves teaching children, is not enough for her and she has applied to Pope Pius XII for permission to establish her own Missionaries of Charity order. Her impatience is reflected in hard rock power chords from Magali Gruselle and Flemming Nordkrog’s score and a shooting style from cinematographer Virginie Saint-Martin, which is deliberately choppy to start, offering glimpses of the nun before settling down somewhat.

In addition to getting authorisation from above, Teresa also needs to assure the Convent Confessor Father Friedrich (Nikola Ristanovski) that her protege Sister Agnieszka (Sylvia Hoeks) is up to the job of being her replacement. This hits a major snag when Angieszka confesses that she’s pregnant, not only throwing a spanner in the works of Teresa’s ambition but also appalling her on a spiritual level.

Mitevska, co-writing with Goce Smilevski and Elma Tataragic, shies away from any sort of hagiography, indicating that though Teresa was driven and devout, she could also be downright vindictive with those who cross her. Rapace’s sharp portrayal of Teresa as she tries to work out what to do about the Angieska problem is compelling to a point but this is such a buttoned up character study that it feels more like a riff than an exploration. The dialogue also tends towards obvious signposting, such as when Teresa declares: “I’m a woman in a system run by men!” Given that Mitevska previously made a whole series, Teresa And I, about the nun, it seems strange that she’s largely opted for a mood piece.

In that regard, the director has a lot going on. In addition to the hard rock music – which reaches a climax with, of all things, a needle drop from Finnish Eurovision winner Lordi – the performances might be generally considered to be high volume. Periodic God’s eye view camerawork nods to Teresa’s ultimate employer and there are also dream sequences to contend with, which seem more employed for their own sake than for what they might reveal about Teresa’s inner thoughts. There are hints of other potential transgressions too, not least surrounding Father Friedrich and Angieska, but Mitevska’s unwillingness to drill down into any of this means it feels more like rumour-mongering than dispassionate ambivalence. The complexity that is intimated here is crying out for a more contemplative approach.

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