Close-Up: In Praise of Dreyer's Joan of Arc

When he made The Passion of Joan of Arc, Carl Theodor Dreyer spent a fortune constructing huge and detailed sets to create a realistic approximation of Rouen Castle, where Joan was imprisoned during her trial. The film was one of the most expensive European productions of its day, but you won't see much evidence of this expense on the screen. For much of The Passion of Joan of Arc, Dreyer ignores the sets that he had put so much effort into creating and instead he makes his film a study of the human face. One of those faces in particular will stay with you forever.

Renée Maria Falconetti was an actress in her early 30s who was earning a modest living on the stage in Paris as Dreyer searched for his Joan. By the time he sat down to watch Falconetti perform in a light comedy, Dreyer had spent weeks scouring the streets for his leading lady, but as soon as he laid eyes on Falconetti he knew that she was the one; as he later said, "There was a soul behind that façade." It was an unlikely piece of casting – the actress was some 15 years older than the character, and the roles she had been playing onstage didn't suggest the emotional depths Dreyer would ask her to plumb – but the qualities the director had somehow spotted in Falconetti made her the ideal choice. He would go to any lengths to draw the perfect performance from her, often making her kneel for hours on a stone slab until he captured the expression he wanted, but the raw emotion and transcendent spirituality that burns so vividly in her close-ups remains unsurpassed in cinema.

The Passion of Joan of Arc was made 85 years ago, but it still feels bracingly modern – almost futuristic. Jean Cocteau's observation that the film resembles "a historical document from an era in which cinema didn’t exist" brilliantly encapsulates the strange singularity of this picture. The script was adapted directly from the court transcripts of Joan's trial, but words are scarcely needed when the director is imbuing every shot with such intensity. From the leering close-ups of Joan's accusers to the devastating physical and mental anguish we witness in the eyes of the young heroine, The Passion of Joan of Arc creates a portrait of suffering and faith that exerts a vice-like grip on the viewer. When he isn't focusing on Falconetti's incredibly expressive visage, Dreyer directs and edits with an exhilaratingly experimental flair that's most striking in the torture chamber and the climactic scenes of rebellion and martyrdom – two of the most violent scenes in cinema.

As Joan burned at the stake, Dreyer's film very nearly suffered the same fate. The original negative was destroyed in a fire and for decades the film was thought lost until, in a bizarre twist of fate, a copy was discovered in a Norwegian mental institution in 1981. Such a discovery may seem like a miracle, but with this film it feels entirely apt. The Passion of Joan of Arc is a miracle. It is a work of art that stands alone, continually challenging us, moving us, inspiring us, and inviting us to study a face that seems to express the essence of cinema itself.