“God saw that the light was good, and he separated the light from the darkness…” This bitingly sardonic tale of hypocrisy and abuse within the Catholic church from Chilean director Pablo Larraín (Tony Manero; Post Mortem; No) archly quotes Genesis 1:4 before introducing us to the residents of a “house for repentance” – a remote dwelling where the church has hidden its dirty secrets. Here, a motley crew of scandal-beset former priests live isolated from the world, until a new arrival prompts the attentions of a local abuse survivor – with genuinely shocking results. What follows is a masterclass in shifting dramatic tones, as Larraín moves deftly between dark tragicomic colours.
At times, it seems weirdly like a hellish episode of Father Ted, the ominous strings of the brooding score even briefly giving way to a Divine Comedy-style tremolo guitar. Elsewhere, The Club offers a piercing flip-side view of the investigations of Spotlight (or even Mea Maxima Culpa), peering out at the world from the perspective of the cloistered abusers and their keepers. “You’re one of those new kind of priests,” says Antonia Zegers’s Sister Mónica when Marcelo Alonso’s Father García arrives to assess the situation, only to find himself out of his depth – practically and philosophically. Not so Larraín, who conducts this volatile screen symphony with note-perfect precision, from the low-key opening to the operatic finale.
