Procès de Jeanne d'Arc (1962)
Directed by Robert Bresson

Film Review

More has been written about Joan of Arc than perhaps any other human being who has walked the face of the earth.  Yet her representation in cinema has tended much more towards folklore and myth than historical truth, placing far greater weight on Joan's heroism and skill as a military leader, or her pre-ordained sanctity as a messenger from God.  Robert Bresson saw Joan very differently and it had been his burning passion to make a film about her long before he finally did so in 1962, shortly after he had garnered international acclaim for his austere prison drama A Man Escaped (Un condamné à mort s'est échappé) (1956).  Bresson was far more interested in the ordinary human qualities of the Maid of Orleans than the extraordinary achievements that have turned her into an enduring legend and sacred icon of French national identity.  He had never been impressed by Carl Dreyer's La Passion de Jeanne d'Arc (1928), which he considered too pious and ludicrously emotional, and it is doubtful he would have approved of Luc Besson's gloriously over-the-top The Messenger: The Story of Joan of Arc (1999), although he may have had some kind words to say about Jacques Rivette's magnificent diptych Jeanne la Pucelle (1994), in which Sandrine Bonnaire does a sublime job of capturing both the humanity and heroism of the uneducated girl from the provinces who became England's greatest scourge during the One Hundred Years War.

Guided by a dogged adherence to authenticity, as he was on all of his films from the early 1950s, Bresson steered well away from the speculative fictionalisation indulged in by other writers and filmmakers, and instead based almost his entire screenplay on the most accurate record of historical events, the transcriptions of Joan of Arc's trial at Rouen in 1431.  The words spoken by Joan and her prosecutors are those that were spoken at the trial and, consequently, Bresson's Procès de Jeanne d'Arc (a.k.a. The Trial of Joan of Arc) is the most insightful and accurate of the many, many films that have ventured into this territory.  It is also, arguably, the most succinct and the most compelling, the director's pared-back minimalist approach serving him much better on this fairly short film (it runs to just over one hour) than on any of his subsequent, more ambitious and complex explorations of the human psyche.

As had become his custom by this time in his career, Bresson assembled his cast from exclusively non-professional actors, choosing his 'models' according to how closely they physically resembled the characters as he saw them whilst working on the screenplay.  In interviews Florence Delay posits the view that the reason she was chosen for the part of Joan (in preference to two other possible candidates) was because of her innate gentleness.  Certainly, Delay's portrayal of Joan is markedly different to that seen in every other Joan of Arc film to date.  Bresson wanted Joan to resemble a modern young woman of the early 1960s so that audiences would be struck by her apparent ordinariness and therefore find it easy to engage with her.  In this, he succeeds admirably.  Florence Delay's Joan is totally believable - defiant and eloquent in her defence during her trial (just like a feisty proto-feminist of the early 1960s), and yet her vulnerability and anguish are palpably felt in her moments of solitude in her cell.  It is only when she is alone that Joan gives in to self-pity, shedding the tears that are her only comfort in this moment of abject abandonment.  Even in her cell, she has no privacy.  She is spied on continually by her English enemies, who conspire to weaken her resolve by abusing and raping her.  The hawl-like eye of a vengeful predator, glimpsed through a hole in the stonework, is one of the film's most haunting images, a reminder that there is always someone watching us, judging us, every moment of our lives.

The heroine of Procès de Jeanne d'Arc is a blameless innocent whose purity throws into stark relief all the vileness and viciousness of the world she inhabits - in pretty much the same way as the central protagonist of several other Robert Bresson films, most notably Journal d'un curé de campagne (1950), Au hasard Balthazar (1955) and Mouchette (1967).  As was his custom, Bresson subjected all of his actors to a rigorous training process to achieve exactly the effect he was after.  By getting his actors to refrain from showing any trace of surface emotion, this most exigent of directors manages to endow each one of his characters with a startling reality.  On this film, he succeeds where many others have failed, to make Joan of Arc appear fully human and genuinely likable.

As was the case on all of his great films of this middle period of his career, Bresson was well-served by the highly accomplished cinematographer Léonce-Henri Burel.  This was the last of their four collaborations, which had begun in 1950 with Journal d'un curé de campagne.  Decades before, Burel had been one of the foremost cinematographers of the silent era, best known for his work on Abel Gance's cinematic masterworks, including La Roue (1920) and Napoléon (1927).  More than any other person, he helped Bresson to refine and develop what was to become the director's trademark aesthetic, a distinctively flat and stark style of photography that was matched by the equally subdued yet meticulously executed mise-en-scène.  Burel's work on Procès de Jeanne d'Arc is among his finest and contributes much to the glacial, tense and subtly oppressive mood of the piece, in a way that gently underscores the horrible inevitability of Joan's execution.  We know right from the start how things are going to pan out.  The phrase "Death to the witch" is heard repeatedly and it is clear that Joan's English adversaries will be satisfied with nothing less than her execution, burned at the stake for witchcraft or heresy.  Right from the off the trial is a complete travesty, and everyone involved in it is a pawn in a game with a pre-determined outcome.  Bishop Cauchon is portrayed far more humanely than in any other Joan of Arc film, a man of true moral conviction and compassion, and yet even he is powerless to save Joan from the scaffold.  His failure to guide the trial to a just and humane outcome is very nearly as poignant as the final harrowing sequence in which the condemned young woman shuffles as fast as she can to the spot in front of Rouen Cathedral where the flames will devour her body and send her soul up to Heaven.

When Procès de Jeanne d'Arc premiered at Cannes in 1962 it was not as well-received as Bresson's previous films, although it did take the Special Jury Prize.  For many years afterwards it was considered a relatively minor work in the director's filmography, although some (in particular Jean-Luc Godard) regarded as one of his finest accomplishments.  Today, the film is held in considerably greater esteem and represents an important step in the director's progression towards a more direct, focused and authentic style of filmmaking, which could culminate in his late masterpiece, L'Argent (1983).

Film Synopsis

Rouen, 1431. After falling into the hands of her English enemies, Jeanne, the young peasant girl who became a figurehead of the French army during the Hundred Years War, is placed on trial for heresy. The trial is led by Bishop Cauchon, who is prepared to use all of the means at his disposal, including torture, to establish the truth.   The fierce questioning, humiliation and abuse to which Jeanne is subjected does nothing to shake her faith.  Throughout this ordeal, she maintains that it was God's will, communicated to her through the voices of saints, that she should lead the French armies against the English and drive them from her native land.

Physically and morally weakened by the seemingly unending trial, Jeanne's resistance falters for a moment, and in that moment she recants her faith. It is the admission the court has been waiting for, playing into the hands of the English who seek to discredit Jeanne and thereby strengthen the grip of the English crown on France.  Jeanne's confession results in her being found guilty of witchcraft, and now she must suffer a witch's fate - to be burnt at the stake in the centre of Rouen...