God Exists, Her Name is Petrunya (Mitevska, 2021)
The words “my” and “mine” are — technically — possessive cases of the pronoun “I.”
I say “technically” because the line between ownership and association becomes blurred when one is not talking about concrete objects. Certainly “my” house, “my” car, and “my” movie ticket can and do signify that these objects belong to me and that I am free to use them as I wish. But if I say “my” spouse, “my” child, or “my” country, am I indicating that I own such things? That they are my possessions to do with what I please? Or am I simply indicating my affiliation in order to distinguish a particular spouse, child, or country from every other?
Nowhere is this rhetorical ambiguity messier than when someone talks about “my” religion. Sometimes such an abstraction is helpful, such as if I want to indicate that I do not accept or recognize American Evangelicalism as “my” Christianity. The practical problem arises, however, that possession implies ownership, and one form of ownership comes in the ability to name or define something. Thus, it is very difficult to say that someone (or some group) is misappropriating a name — that they do not own it — without making the implicit claim that you do.
God Exists, Her Name is Petrunya understands this dilemma clearly and poignantly. The central question driving the plot is who owns a wooden cross used in an annual ceremony to bestow good luck among the parishioners. Possession may be nine-tenths of the law, but what is the other tenth? We know who possesses the cross, but who owns it? Who, if anyone, has the right to take it from one person and give it to another?
The two most plausible answers are “nobody” and “God.” But traditionalists can reasonably argue that God has ordained a church structure in which stewardship of that which he owns had been given to representatives (“….upon this rock I will build my church”). But has God ordained the patriarchy and misogyny that so often gets intertwined with such structures, or are they man-made corruptions that strip the gospel of its central power and meaning? Isn’t the fact that the cross belongs to God the reason that no human being can claim exclusive rights to it?
Lest I forget to talk about the movie itself, it is terrific. I haven’t been this excited by a film from a director with whom I was previously unacquainted since Farhadi’s A Separation. I was prepared to be interested in God Exists…. because of the subject matter, but I wasn’t prepared to be this impressed by the writing, acting, and directing. Petrunya is played by Zorica Nusheva, who has no other credits listed on IMDB. It is a meaty role, but a deceptively difficult one because the character evolves and changes. She is in several intense scenes, and many new actors (and not a few experienced ones) tend to over-emote in such roles. That would be wrong for a character who has been beaten down over a long period of time. The closest equivalent I could think of might be Olivia Colman’s performance in Tyrannosaur.
The direction is similarly accomplished without being showy. It serves the story rather than drawing attention to itself. Mitevska uses walls and windows and the edge of the frame to suggest isolation, letting the visuals and the actors do some of the work where a less confident director might lean too heavily on exposition. Some of the intense close-ups reminded me (honest) of Dreyer’s Passion, and a key scene between Petrunya and one of her tormenters is shot with framing reminiscent of Fincher’s Alien3, with the embattled heroine trapped between the edge of the frame and the drooling, spitting monster that is literally and figuratively in her face.
While I am comparing the film to others that I admire, I will draw a similarity in the writing between this film and the Dardennes’ classic Two Days, One Night. During my first viewing of each film, I felt confusion and anxiety wondering how the film could possibly resolve itself in a way that wasn’t either cynically pessimistic or falsely untrue to life. This tension often arises when a film deals with complex conflicts (such as those engendered by politics or religion) because single narratives with singular outcomes can’t always carry with them the recognition that life is not always resolved in a manner that is consistent with our worldview. In other words, endings cast a shadow over the whole and can’t but help suggest the intended meaning or significance of the events as understood by the writer. The ending here is masterful, striking just the right note of hope and progress while recognizing that some problems are so culturally and socially embedded in our societies and structures that they cannot be easily challenged or overcome by a single act of defiance.
Because I identify as Christian and often write for a Christian audience, I suppose I should mention a scene replicated in the film’s poster in which a partially nude (or partially nued) Petrunya lies on her bed with the cross on her chest. The amount of nudity is relatively brief, maybe five seconds of screen time. But there is a certain kind of Christian viewer who objects to any nudity and sometimes scolds me for recommending films that contain it. I would argue, though, that this scene is not just acceptable but important. It may not be obviously integral to the plot but it is absolutely essential for visually embodying one of the film’s potent observations: patriarchy in religion and misogyny in culture are built on a foundation of body-shaming that is the antithesis of honoring and respecting women. Why are we more scandalized by the sight of a woman’s bare breast than by a mother who conspires to prostitute her daughter, a manager who cops a feel then tells a woman she can’t have a job because she is too ugly to “fuck,” or a church that routinely shames women for not passively accepting lesser roles while turning a blind eye to the verbal, physical, and sexual violence that men perpetrate upon them?
One of Petrunya’s deepest longings is to be loved for who she is and what she is. Perhaps she sees in the cross some dying ember of a gospel message that there is a God who does just that. Is it no wonder that she would want to hold it close to her heart? Is not the truly scandalous behavior that of the men who would rip it from her arms and say, “this is mine, this is ours, this is not for you”?
