Emerging as the favourite to take home the prestigious Golden Bear at the Berlinale, Pablo Larrain’s The Club delves into the lives of four priests (and a nun) living together in a parochial house, who bend the rules somewhat, by going out and gambling – watching their groundhog win races through binoculars from afar, so as not to be caught by the locals. The first reference that springs to mind is Father Ted – except what transpires is a far darker, disturbing production, as within moments of meeting the new priest who is coming to stay with them, Father Lazcano (Jose Soza) – the abhorrent, reprehensible pedophile puts a bullet in his head. It’s at that point we realise that this is not quite Craggy Island.
Following this incident, the church send Father Garcia (Marcel Alonso) to their abode to punish the priests for their immorality, and quiz them on the recent tragedy. The four, middle-aged men are Fathers Vidal (Alfredo Castro), Ramirez (Alejandro Sieveking), Silva (Jaime Vadell) and Ortega (Alejandro Goic) had been banished from the church, each sent to this house to repent for their sins. Though Sister Monica (Antonia Zegers) keeps a watchful eye over them, the introduction of the disturbed drifter Sandokan (Roberto Farias), and the subsequent suicide of Lazcano, threatens to thrown their lives into further disarray.
Though The Club makes for such a disconcerting, punishing watch – Larrain has portrayed his protagonists with an element of compassion, finding the human being within all of them, regardless of their irrespective “sins” they have committed. He doesn’t tell us how or why they all ended up here, leaving that for the audience to speculate on – but ultimately it’s irrelevant, and the Chilean filmmaker remains detached throughout, and vitally objective. As such we’re able to find sympathy, and pity these individuals, as they’re portrayed as being emotionally fragile, troubled by their own restrictions, and limitations set upon them by the church. Even for the deplorable Lazcano, there’s such a sadness in his eyes, that rather than look at him and think ‘ you’re a nasty man, I hate you’. You find yourself thinking, ‘you’re a nasty man – how can we help you?’ Larrain blurs the line between good and evil in this regard, as even for both Garcia and Monica – depicted as being the saintly counterparts, they too are heavily flawed and show off disturbing sides to their respective demeanours.
To counteract the disquieting, unforgiving elements to this compelling drama, Larrain ensures there’s an immensely subtle, dark humour to this piece, despite a small handful of the laughs deriving out of feeling uncomfortable and not quite knowing how to react – particularly the case for when Sandokan stands outside the priest’s house, shouting about the abuse he suffered when just a boy. This shows off Larrain’s distinct, and quite breathtaking ability – to be able to implement even the most understated sense of humour amidst such severe, unsettling themes is of great commendation to him.
Larrain also knows how to present his work from a visual perspective – as following on from the indelible, Oscar-nominated No – again he has created a film that makes for a striking and unforgettable experience on the big screen. In this instance he has shot using natural light, with many scenes taking place in the dark. But it works well, and if anything, the darkness is symbolic of this situation, as the character’s use it as a cloak to hide their shame, as they live in the shadows of society. It’s emblematic of a layered, nuanced production that you could watch five times over and interpret differently every single time.
THE CLUB is available on DVD & Blu-ray 30th May
