In Bleak 'Paradise: Faith,' Both Can Seem Distant
Faith is a brutal, unflinching, anxiety-inducing, almost unbearably hard to watch film. Its slow start is partly justifiable as a way to ease us into the increasing menace and despondency of its second half, which climaxes, as in Love, with a set of brilliant scenes: unvarnished portrayals of the lows of humanity Seidl has been circling throughout.
How does one recommend such a film? In Faith's case, it can be harder to than with Love, which, even as its protagonist's self-destructive behavior became increasingly difficult to countenance, demonstrated a care for her that gave the film a humanist heart. In Love, Seidl seemed to be testing the limits of our faith in humanity by subjecting us to some of its more deplorable or pitiful aspects, but at least that faith was always still in play.
With Faith we approach ever closer to an irredeemable view of our species. It's unclear who or what these characters can turn to for consolation or how they might manage to fill the holes they have in their lives.
This makes Faith an even more difficult film than Love. Goodness at the heart of humanity is harder to see in Faith. At points, particularly in some of early scenes showing Anna's self-flagellation, the film also approaches the territory of provocation for its own sake, which at this level of harsh realism would constitute an attack on human nature.
But somehow, even as the film's second half grows increasingly disturbing, we begin to hear the humanist heart of Love still very faintly beating, if not through Faith's hope for its characters' futures then in its clear revulsion over their suffering. The third film in Seidl's trilogy is titled Paradise: Hope, and while we may be left with little of that at the end of Faith, we are not at misanthropy yet. And that means that if you're up for its challenge, Faith still reaps rewards. (Recommended)