To Kill a Priest

Ed Harris’ defense in To Kill a Priest is one of the most stirring speeches I’ve ever heard at the movies. His character, a member of the Polish secret police during the 1980’s communist reign, has just committed a crime of chilling brutality. Yielding to political pressure, his secret circle that has approved the crime has turned their back on him, and he and his conspirators have been arrested. His family is in hiding. He has been sentenced to twenty five years of hard labor for his actions. “And if I had to do it all again,” Harris admits, “I would, so that my son can grow up to be a good communist.” It is a scene of shocking revelation, and as I watched, I realized exactly where director Agnieszka Holland was going with this film. Until this scene, To Kill a Priest has been an engaging political thriller with a first-rate cast and stellar direction, with a surprise, unnerving emphasis on the villain instead of the hero. With Harris’ speech, the themes and characters are tied together under one powerful theme, and the film ascends to greatness. It is the best movie ever made about the effects that a society corrupted by communism has on its residents.

The film is based on true events of Father Jerzy Popieluszko, a priest murdered by the Polish secret police in 1984 for his strong support of Solidarity. The priest’s name is Father Alec in the film, and he is played as a shy but strongly convicted young clergyman by Christopher Lambert. His sermons against Poland’s Communist government influence the masses, and the police find in very dangerous. So dangerous, in fact, the one particular member of the secret police, Stefan (Ed Harris) has become obsessed with tracking down Father Alec and silencing him by any means necessary. Thus, the film becomes an interesting cat-and-mouse game of Stefan’s many attempts to catch the priest, and the priest continuing his stance for Solidarity, perfectly aware that men are after him but refusing to be silenced.

Such a premise hardly does the film justice, however. What happens in this film is not so much important as how it happens. Holland takes a bold approach by focusing the main storyline not on Alec, but on Stefan. We meet his wife and son, and we see that Stefan writes death-threats on the door of his house every night to lead his family to believe that they were written by members of Solidarity. We see how Stefan obsessively works to silence the priest, which includes sending his spy Feliks (Tim Roth) to plant false evidence on Alec. Curiously, all of this does not create a mustache-twirling, Communist villain from clichéd thrillers; Stefan does what he does because he believes with the sincerest convictions that Communism is the correct way, and that he must serve and protect it by any means necessary. We are given scenes with Alec detailing his life and ministry, but the true protagonist of the film is Stefan who, as his family life crumbles and his commitment to his party convinces him of the righteousness of violence and murder, remains completely convinced that his actions are necessary and good. As he finally advances in his final plot to murder Father Alec (this is not a spoiler if you have read the film’s title), we have developed an emotional attachment for the man and his convictions, and we find ourselves sincerely sympathizing with him, if not agreeing with what he does. Thus, both Father Alec and Stefan are painted as men firmly grounded in what they believe in, but it is Stefan who we connect to the audience.

          When To Kill a Priest was first released in 1988, most critics were puzzled by the sympathy given to Stefan. Roger Ebert lamented in his review of the film, “One of the side effects of the contrast between Harris and Lambert is that I actually felt more identification with the killer than his victim - hardly the effect the film must have intended.” With all due respect to Mr. Ebert, I think that this was the exact intention. We don’t need a movie to tell us that a priest standing against communism is correct and righteous. Any film taking such a side could be a powerful human story (see Romero, with Raul Julia), but even bolder is a film that pries into the life of the people who are plotting against the priest. We never think that a man could kidnap a priest and beat him to death because he actually believes that what he is doing is right, but only strong moral convictions could possibly lead someone like Stefan to commit such a deed. By de-emphasizing Father Alec and turning Stefan into the hero, we not only understand why he is committing the sins that he is, but we also come to realize the effect that a corrupt government system such as communism has on those who follow it. By the time Stefan delivers his final defense, the movie’s theme makes perfect sense and rings absolutely true: By realizing Stefan’s position, we understand the way that communism corrupts. That we have sympathized with Stefan throughout the film is also a chilling reminder of how communism can potentially corrupt anyone under its power. Certainly, the film’s storytelling is manipulative. But then, so is communism.

          So, if we are confused as viewers at first by the film’s attempt to understand Stefan’s position and beliefs, we are always engaged by what is happening on the screen and the story that it is telling. By the film’s end, when we have come to understand the bizarre reverse-psychology that the film is using to make its point, we realize how effectively Holland’s methods work and get under our skin, and what a bold experiment this film is. Holland is Polish herself, and To Kill a Priest is a movie that perhaps only someone who has experienced first-hand the horror of war and oppression could make. She also wrote the script, and I’m not sure why she decided on this approach, but it certainly works. Perhaps she has seen good people corrupted by Communism, and she wanted to make a film about them. In doing so, she creates one of the strongest anti-communism films of all time, and certainly the most emotionally engaging. Hitchcock stated that he made thrillers that played his audience like a piano, and Holland has the same idea here. By the time the film is over, it has packed quite a wallop in the way it shifts the audience’s sympathy around and then back again.

          Her masterful storytelling is helped by her strong, international cast. Lambert has always been an underrated and often misunderstood actor. As Father Alec, as in all of his best roles (Highlander, Subway, and Greystoke), he conveys the strongest of human emotions and characterizations by the subtlest possible movement—a slight turn of the head or a raised eyebrow and smile. Some call his acting wooden; I call it true-to-life. Observe the scene in which Father Alec sits alone, after receiving a death-threat. His face shows no emotion, but he gently taps his face and rubs his forehead, indicating both his nervousness and his determination to continue on the path of right, even if it means death. In this scene, Lambert puts all of his performance into simply his hand touching his face, and it is a riveting moment in which we know exactly what Father Alec is thinking. Frankly, I’ve never seen a hand act so well, and Lambert is always quietly stirring as the young priest who realizes that he doesn’t have long to live.

Other actors offer strong support in key roles. Tim Roth is slippery as a Solidarity-supporter turned Communist solider. Cherie Lunghi is always riveting as Stefan’s wife, who is keenly aware of her husband’s madness and tries her best to keep it from their son while trying to keep herself from surrendering to severe depression. Pete Postlethwaite and Joanne Whalley-Kilmer are a husband and wife who are in Alec’s secret circle, Whalley for her own, secret reasons. Joss Ackland and David Suchet are the Colonel and Archbishop, respectively, who both wish to silence Father Alec for their own political agendas.

As strong as these actors are in their roles, in the end, everything that happens in To Kill a Priest lead to Stefan’s stirring final speech, and in this scene alone, Ed Harris demonstrates his power as an actor. Stefan is relentless, depressed, passionate, and alternately cowardly and confident. He is an emotionally distraught, unstable man, and Harris plays him as shifting through all of these moods continuously, never aware that he is anything but a normal, devoted Communist with an important job to do. That we never doubt his conviction and always connect with Stefan through all of his mental turmoil is tribute to Harris’ acting—it is one of his best performances, and certainly the best performance of 1988.

Cast:
Stefan: Ed Harris
Father Alec: Christopher Lambert
Feliks: Tim Roth
Halina: Cherie Lunghi
Mirek: Charlies Condou
The Colonel: Joss Ackland
Igor: Timothy Spall
Josef: Pete Postlethwaite
Anna: Joanne Whalley-Kilmer
Bishop: David Suchet

A Columbia Pictures release. Written by Michael Cooper and Agnieszka Holland. Directed by Holland. Rated R for language, graphic violence and a brief sexual moment. 117 minutes. Original United States Theatrical release date: October 13, 1989.