All it takes to change someone’s life entirely is two words: “I know”. This is applicable mainly to those who have done something in their past that they would prefer to have hidden, and when these misdeeds are unearthed, it can cause them to spiral into an existential crisis, which is often deserved, depending on the extent of their actions. This is the starting point for Fall, in which Terrance Odette writes and directs a quiet and subtle story of an ageing priest whose rote but comfortable daily routine is interrupted by the arrival of a letter, written by a former congregant who questions whether an encounter between himself and the priest many years previously was a case of child sexual abuse, which is only worsened by the realization that this young man has recently taken his life, which causes the priest to fall into a state of moral panic, since such accusations can have a profound impact – if they are true, he could not only find himself losing his cherished career, but also facing criminal charges, and even if they are conjecture, such rumours could derail the trust and confidence he has built within the community. The film never actually provides us with the clear answer on whether or not the allegations are true, instead offering us a more intimate exploration of the challenges that come with navigating such a situation, especially since these moments of reflection occur alongside his other duties, such as advising a young couple on their forthcoming marriage, giving guidance to the son of a woman he has recently buried and being a source of moral fortitude within his community, which is certainly not an easy task, especially when one is fighting internal moral and psychological battles all on their own. Fall is a fascinating film, a small but impactful character-based drama that may not be particularly complex in its execution, but has a profound depth and a challenging sense of morality that makes it a far more compelling film the further in we venture.

Fall is a film that is centered around very challenging subject matter, with Odette constructing a story that touches on many of the more controversial themes in Catholicism, almost to the point where one has to wonder whether this entire project was just an attempt to deconstruct and provoke difficult discussions around one of the oldest and most sacred institutions that still function today, or whether there was something deeper to this story. There are moments when it feels like the director is actively trying to take apart the church and show that it is a corrupt organization, and one that does more harm to the community than it does good – but that would unfortunately create a scenario where many of the more effective moments would go unnoticed, because while it does centre on a more morally-ambiguous protagonist, it never attempts to portray him as someone entirely bad. Once again, the answer to whether or not he engaged in sordid activities with a young man is left ambiguous, and while it never excuses such behaviour or shows that someone should be forgiven for these actions, it is far more interested in looking at what allegations such as those can do to someone, especially when they are a community leader and someone as outwardly respected as a priest. The film actually takes quite an objective view on the nature of the main character’s existence, and shows his journey grappling with a variety of challenges, all of which start to erode at his soul, causing him to fall into a state of despair. It is quite intriguing that Odette seems to introduce many complex themes, but doesn’t see them all through, instead only exploring a couple of them in detail. It is an understandable choice, but had he been given more time, or perhaps chosen a few of the themes to explore in more detail, we might have gotten a more thorough and compelling character study, rather than a film that aims to cover everything within a given milieu.

Ultimately, it is impossible for any film to handle a subject quite as large and intimidating as that of the various challenges that come with faith, and layering on discussions around the church’s misdeeds can only complicate this further. If we remove the faith-based storyline, we are still left with a profoundly compelling film (this is usually the metric on which I assess the impact of a film that is centered on religion – if the story can exist on its own, divorced of the faith-based aspects, then it is extremely successful in being more than just a meandering examination of belief), and one that serves to be far more complex in its humanity than we’d anticipate based on a cursory glance. Fall is not focused solely on interrogating the church and its institutionalized prejudices and moral deviances, and more a quiet character study intent on examining the life of an individual caused to think back on his past actions an atone for them, not in a particularly physical or tangible way, but rather through his own introspection, as he navigates the challenges that come with an unexpected change in his life. This film is primarily an investigation of identity – we never truly get to know Father Sam all that well, and his background is kept quite limited, with all we learn about him being brief mentions of his childhood, as well as his many years of service of the community, which contrasts sharply with the film’s efforts to show that a human is being behind the sacred vestments, someone with the same psychological and emotional quandaries, and that even community leaders and those in positions that hinge on their worldliness and wisdom suffer from the same questions of identity as the layman. Naturally, the film is not going to use this as a way of justifying the repulsive acts that have caused the decades-long controversy that surrounds the church – but that was never the point to begin with, and while it can sometimes be quite myopic in choosing to gloss over potentially insightful and important discussions, it understandably want to pursue a less provocative approach, and instead explore the inner workings of someone whose entire life has been defined by his faith, which is called into question after encountering the spectres of the past. 

The role of Father Sam called for an actor with the gravitas to play someone with an abundance of depth, but also be able to disappear into the role. He is the only character who is present from start to finish, and therefore, the casting needed to be precise. Fortunately, Odette managed to acquire Michael Murphy, one of the most unheralded actors of his generation, someone with an abundance of talent (to the point where he was a regular for some of the greatest filmmakers of all time, such as Robert Altman and Woody Allen, who saw him become part of their recurring stable of collaborators), but also the ability to adapt to any role, becoming the character. Murphy represents a very specific kind of actor – he is recognisable and acclaimed, but all of that comes from his chameleonic ability to disappear into the work, convincing us of the merits and morals of a specific character. This is vitally important for a film that is as heavily steeped in social realism as Fall, which hinges on our ability to believe in this character’s journey. It isn’t an easy role to play, and Murphy is presented with quite a challenge in many parts of the film, since he is present from beginning to end, and several of the scenes find him alone on screen, where he has to engage in the most profound introspection, playing the character often without even saying a word. It’s an exceptional performance, and rivals the work of Brendan Gleeson in Calvary that same year in terms of quiet but profoundly moving depictions of men of faith undergoing existential crises after being confronted with some of life’s more harsh truths, leading them to question their own beliefs, as well as their place within a rapidly changing world. The supporting cast is populated by many other great character actors, with Suzanne Clément, Cas Anvar and Katie Boland all playing vitally important roles that help define the narrative and push this tale of moral ambiguity and questioning identity forward.

Fall is not always the most comfortable film to watch, and there are many moments when it feels like it is going slightly too far in how it examines the internal struggles of a man who should by all accounts pay the consequences for the misdeeds, rather than placing some doubt in the viewer’s mind around whether or not his innocent by never overly revealing whether the allegations against him are true. Understandably, the approach here is aligned with the concept of being innocent until proven guilty, but there is something rather disquieting about a film that stands on the edge of an extraordinarily controversial subject and doesn’t actively engage in any meaningful discussion around those themes. However, this would assume that this film actively aimed to be seen as a bold statement or an indictment on the Catholic Church, which it clearly was not intending to be. There is a further argument that this film should not have used sexual abuse within the church if it wanted to explore the internal struggles of a priest, and there is some credence to that discussion as well. However, it al ultimately becomes trivial, since there is far more merit to this film than shortcomings, and while it is far from perfect, and has its own small challenges that keep it from achieving greatness, Fall is a solid film, a compelling and well-made character-driven drama about someone looking inward and finding that, even after an entire lifetime has gone past, one sometimes doesn’t even know themselves, and that we question and negotiate our identity until late in life. It’s very moving and has some profoundly impactful moments, which are all tied together by a melancholic tone that may not always be as challenging as we’d desire, but at least has some merit in how it explores certain ideas with precision and an enormous amount of soulful, compelling commentary.