“Everything I have said and done is in the hands of god”
Clare Bleeker (Bella Thorne), has been plagued with voices since she was a child. Righteous justice, only to be brought by her down on the heads of those who deserve. But how will she live with the shadows of her crimes despite divine voices telling her this is the way?
On its surface, Saint Clare explores the grey area of vigilante justice and, whether you agree with Clare or not, the people she kills are worse than her as her violence is an extension of her circumstances – if they weren’t terrible, they wouldn’t end up on her chopping block. It subverts what we think about justice as a journey that has a destination, and that when it’s done, everything is fine and a clean slate begins. Saint Clare paints the pictures outside of the lines, suggesting that justice being done is only the beginning, and the bringer is forever changed as injustice becomes a plague that they have to scrub out in whatever way makes sense to them. This seems to be the overarching theme of Saint Clare as it explores what happens to those vehicles of justice and, after the violence, can they ever function in the world as they did before? Underneath the layers though, it’s so much more than that as it tries to entangle our fascination with the other side with questions like “What happens when we die?”, “What’s it like to be a ghost tethered to this world?”, and “When we yearn for our loved ones that have crossed over, can we ever see them again?”.
Writer Guinevere Turner (American Psycho) uses religious undertones to solidify Clare’s journey of being the human manifestation of karma, while director Mitzi Peirone casts images of a worn down and distressed world within Clare Bleeker’s house. This creates a juxtaposition between the clean lines and brighter world of college and the almost southern gothic, edging on bohemian, house of our protagonist – offering a beautiful drawback to the central themes. It’s a clever way to create a link between Clare’s inner world and her struggles with the loss of her parents, her purpose, and who she must be to keep her secrets. Images of crucifixes, and Clare’s recanting of a line that Joan of Arc recited to affirm herself, draw a line between the holy and the wholly violent. Can we be saintly and still do horrific violence to others? Does sainthood absolve us of the deaths of others at our hands? Clare and Mailman Bob seem to think so.
We’re in good hands with a director who’s sure of the purpose of the script, and a writer who explores huge ideas in intimate and surprising ways.
We’re in good hands with a director who’s sure of the purpose of the script, and a writer who explores huge ideas in intimate and surprising ways. Turner manages to centre the story around Clare’s journey, but seamlessly brings in surreal or paranormal elements that add so many textures to the story. Of course, the film has a commitment to a religious undertone, but the choice of where to put that imagery in the film rarely feels forced, and instead integrate smoothly with Clare’s story and ultimate goal – cementing that she sees this as a bigger mission than herself. The soundscape plays with Clare’s memories and her inner struggles, along with the tension of her being caught in the string of murders. How they managed to weave nods to religious overtures in the perfect places I’ll never know, but they deserve bonus pay!
Frank Whaley gives us some wonderful comic relief that doesn’t feel out of place, and if anything he finds a way to use his delivery as Mailman Bob to push the story along while upping the stakes. Saying that, just when you think Whaley is going to be your lightness, and a bit of a break from the dark, twisted missions, he hits you with a vulnerability that feels like a punch to the gut. He reinforces that he’s a safe pair of hands for any audience, and brings the best out of Bella Thorne in any scene they’re in. Juliana LeBlanc (Joy Roveris), complements the cool and collected Clare Bleeker with a wonderful performance that I wanted to see more of, carefully scratching at the surface and giving us some wonderful snippets of how unhinged Clare actually is. The way they play off of each other does as much to give texture to the film, as it does to pull at the seams of the emotional story we’re seeing, and in some scenes forcing them wide open. Juliana puts on the pressure whenever she’s on screen, knocking on the cracks of the girl Clare’s trying to convince the world she is. Bella Thorne plays things just seriously enough to get us invested in the story, but still manages to give herself time to react and play off of her co-stars with an ease that still feels weighted, while remaining faithful to the burden of Clare’s inner conflict and the voices she hears.
It’s a fun and atmospheric play on how memories can push us into cycles that, in the end, don’t wash away the pain of the past, and if anything, you’re putting fresh blood on top of the crusted clots of yesteryear.
Saint Clare was reviewed at Pigeon Shrine FrightFest 2024
