Coming down the mountain

Calvary (2014)
dir John Michael McDonagh 

There is something in the calm and serene environment that doesn't prepare you for the climax of Calvary.
The tranquil foothills of Ireland and trundling shorelines that break silently and respectfully.
The slow and purposeful movement of frame and character marches to a consistent, but lighter pace.
The introduction of a daughter more used to the lifestyle of London only serves to illustrate the importance of speed.
Slowing down.
Speeding up.
Going too fast.
Going too slow.
Life can be judged by the direction we are going, and how quickly we are going to get there.
The confessional scene that opens this film plots a course that will define the central character, played with growing resignation and despair by the excellent Brendan Gleeson.
The end has been declared, the priest is to be killed a week on Sunday.
From that point we are on a journey, an examination of the mind of someone who has to a certain extend been condemned.
Condemned not for his sins, but for the sins of others.
The abuse of the priesthood is brought to light graphically, but then effectively cast into the shadow.
It's an effective device to examine the thinking of an audience without explicitly addressing the issue for more than a fleeting glance.
There is a sense of injustice that a good priest is to be condemned for the crimes of his fraternity. The seemingly absurd argument that this is more judicial is voiced, and then left to hold or evaporate in the ether.
The fact that this man had a child and was married earlier in life only serves to mark his difference to those donning the hassock for a lifetime. Those whose repressed sexuality brought about untold suffering. Those who are seen as deserving of punishment. Those we do not meet here.
Throughout the course of the journey we must ask, do we sympathise with Gleeson's forgiving and quietly shackled existence?
Do we have sympathy for the victim of abuse who has decided to exact his crooked form of equity?
If we don't, why not then?
How by the shocking conclusion can we feel pure judgement on the perpetrator of the final act?
It is less an examination of the crimes of the Catholic Church, and more a lesson in crime and punishment. A modern adaptation of The Merchant of Venice.
We have an innocent man blamed, and punished for the sins of another.
The concept of an eye for an eye is skewered, dissected and we seemingly cannot accept that a good man is condemned by the company he keeps.
The film's title references the place that Jesus was crucified.
The ground on which the Christian faith was born.
Bob Dylan once asked the question in a song whether 'Judas Iscariot had God on his side'.
One wonders the same in this conclusion.
Where in this story is the presence of God. And who is He rooting for?