Benedetta (dir. Paul Verhoeven), 2021

"God is not bound by any rule book." Neither is Paul Verhoeven, who explores the scandals of historical-figure Sister Benedetta Carlini in his new film of (roughly) the same name during times of plague and religious fervor in Pescia, Italy. Such unevenness is perhaps a reflection of Verhoeven's love-hate relationship with the Catholic Church, borrowing from its own teetering contradictions: the hypocrisy, sexual deviance, rich history, and artistic iconography. Benedetta is an intriguing and, at times, comically salacious dive into the sex and politics of organized religion.

A plague is ravaging Italy during the early-seventeenth century and, thus far, Pescia has been spared. Engrained to believe she possesses a mystic ability by her own mother, Benedetta arrives at the convent as a young girl eager to serve the Virgin Mary. "Your worst enemy is your body," a nun tells the young Benedetta. "Best not to feel at home in it." The line is a humorous and dark glimpse at how the Catholic Church views sexual desire, foreshadowing the use of ones body for both pleasure and institutional advancement. Almost two decades later, a stern and devoted sister now, Benedetta finds her faith confronted by the arrival of a young farm-girl named Bartolomea, fleeing her father's abuse and awakening lesbian desires. The juxtaposition between Benedetta's devotion to the church and her own self-preservation in the face of carnal sins drives the film, at times haphazardly, throughout the defining moments of her life. And, much like the holy trinity of the Catholic Church, the film itself operates in threes as historical drama, erotic thriller, and love story, all holding a certain amount of power within the narrative.

Power is a core theme which often weaves the unfocused elements of Benedetta into an engaging, thoroughly enjoyable farce. Benedetta, believing herself to speak to visions of Christ in her dreams, undergoes questionable stigmata which propels her to convent abbess, much to the chagrin of now demoted Sister Felicita. These visions, delivered by Chris, demon, or her own manic power grabs, represent the ascent and descent of Benedetta in the church. Her visions of Christ, sometimes sexual, seem to also endorse her own lesbian curiosity. Benedetta and Bartolomea gratify these desires, even using a sacred figurine as a penetration devise which is the kind of sexual shocker one expects from Verhoeven. Their trysts ignite the indignation of Sister Christina, daughter and ally to Sister Felicita, and that of Felicita herself, who makes a power move in search of the Tuscan Nuncio. The arrival of the powerful Catholic men opens Pescia to the threat of the ravaging plague and that of Benedetta's saintly hold on the community. Unwilling to choose sides between the scheming characters, Benedetta is at times too ambivalent to engage a focused narrative. Yet, Verhoeven crafts such a wild, gleefully sacrilegious critique and back-handed love letter to the Catholic Church that only Verhoeven himself could rightfully execute.

Rating: 7.25/10