One of my favourite Wikipedia pages is entitled ‘List of people claimed to be Jesus’ which documents, as one might gather, people throughout history who have professed to be the second coming. It’s not a particularly lengthy list and it’s unclear what the criteria is for inclusion, but nestled in the 18th century section is Ann Lee, the female leader of the Shakers – a restorationist Christian sect formed in Manchester, England in 1747. Their unusual name developed from ‘The Shaking Quakers’, as they were originally called, due to their fervent and lively worship sessions which featured singing, ritual dancing and trance-like states. They were also known for their staunch belief in celibacy, not shared by the Quaker community at large. Although small, the Shakers developed quite a reputation in the God-fearing north of England, and were frequently targeted because of their feverish displays of worship. No one more so than their pious and devoted leader, Mother Ann Lee, whom the Shakers regarded as the second coming of Christ.
In Mona Fastvold’s vision of Lee’s remarkable and mostly little known life, Amanda Seyfried takes centre stage, embodying the preacher with a beatific ease. Her expressive eyes and melodic voice sell both Lee’s personal conviction and that of her followers – there’s no question why they choose to follow her, for there’s something angelic and earnest about her faith. At her side are her most faithful disciples: her brother William (Lewis Pullman) and loyal follower Mary (Thomasin McKenzie) who also serves as the film’s narrator. Less convinced is her husband Abraham (Christopher Abbott), with his coal-black hair and sad eyes, who really doesn’t take to the idea of indefinite abstinence. As word spreads of the possibilities offered for freedom in the New World, Ann and her Shakes grow excited. They decide to take their gospel of ecstatic praise and honest work to America.
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Capturing the religious zeal and unwavering faith of the Shakers through haunting compositions by Daniel Blumberg, choral arrangements incorporating original Shaker hymns and intricate choreography crafted by Celia Rowlson-Hall, there’s no question Fastvold’s third feature is ambitious, and the tactile 35mm film stock (blown up to 70mm) reflects the appreciation the Shakers have for all things tactile and well-crafted. (Though at times the amount of darkness makes it difficult to make out much more than abstract shapes in different shades of black and brown.) Their purity is fascinating in a world where that seems completely alien; the Shakers are unwavering in their devotion, and even when they’re beaten and broken for their religious beliefs, they continually put themselves back together and carry on.
It’s a beautiful showcase for Seyfried’s talent and the amount of work that went into researching and crafting the world of the Shakers is evident on screen, but The Testament of Ann Lee never quite finds an emotional pull in the way that Fastvold’s previous film, The World to Come, did. Like a beautifully crafted Shaker chair, the skill is evident, but admiration doesn’t quite transform into resonance, even with the obvious parallel between Ann Lee and the women tried for witchcraft in the centuries that surrounded Lee’s life. There’s also a sort of reverence for Lee and her doctrine which is never once challenged – perhaps because we’re situated so closely to her, in a story told by her closest pupil – and this unrelenting adulation does dull the film’s pace, a cacophony of voices clamouring to proclaim Lee’s divinity.
Despite its chilliness and sometimes perplexing lack of interest in interrogating the mythology of Ann Lee, there’s plenty that’s impressive and admirable about Fastvold’s work, co-written with her husband and creative partner Brady Corbet. Yet that might just be the problem: The Testament of Ann Lee feels more a technical wonder than a spiritual one.
