Paul Schrader’s career has been an ongoing argument between his inherited faith and his evolving sensibilities. Born in Grand Rapids, Michigan, Schrader grew up in the Dutch Reformed branch of Protestantism, which exercised a dramatic influence on the region, his family, and, for a time, Schrader himself. He attended Calvin College, an intellectual center for the reformed faith in America, where he studied theology, and then went to film school at UCLA. He has written or co-written some of the most memorable screenplays in the history of American cinema: Taxi Driver, Raging Bull, Cat People, The Last Temptation of Christ, and Affliction, among others. He has had, by any measure, a remarkable career as a writer and sometimes also as a director. In First Reformed, Schrader wears both hats superbly. As a piece of art, First Reformed is a stunning success. As a matter of philosophy and theology, it reveals the conflicted soul of a man still wrestling with God.

First Reformed is sparse in its cinematic elements. The plot is linear and simple. Ernst Toller (Ethan Hawke) is almost literally a hollow man, a reverend who favors his clerical garb in nearly all social settings. He is ill, with a marching stomach malady, either brought on, or exacerbated, by alcoholism. He is a single man, but not by choice. After a family tragedy, he has turned to the still, small pastorate of First Reformed, an idyllic, bucolic church in upstate New York. Toller oversees a dwindling flock of the faithful. He is ably assisted by Esther (Victoria Hill), another lonely soul, who carries strong feelings for Toller that have been only occasionally reciprocated. They labor in the shadow of a mega-church, Abundant Life, which keeps First Reformed afloat financially. Its pastor, Jeffers (Cedric the Entertainer), also cares for Toller, and integrates him into Abundant Life’s ministries as much as possible.

Two events bring conflict and move the plot forward. First Reformed is about to celebrate its 250th anniversary, which involves dignitaries, a video simulcast, and underwriting by a local business, Balq Industries. Toller struggles to accept his role as a minor player in the festivities, and he bristles at the expectations put on him. More critically, Toller is visited by Mary (Amanda Seyfried), a pregnant parishioner, who asks the reverend to counsel her husband, Michael (Phillip Ettinger). Michael is a fervent environmentalist, convinced of the planet’s demise within a generation. His certainty, lodged in data and science, has led him to despair.

Toller and Michael argue about the nature of fate and faith. Toller reasons that we cannot know the future or the mind of God, and that to assume devastation robs us of any temporal joy. Michael asks, plaintively, “Will God forgive us for what we have done to his world?” He is pressuring Mary to abort their child since he thinks it cruel to bring someone onto a disintegrating planet. Toller’s response feels flat, even as he utters it, just as his homilies before his congregants are delivered without conviction.

The other elements are equally spare. There is little music in First Reformed. There are occasional crescendos, and punctuations of bass that predict dread. The only other musical interludes are provided by a youth choir, Esther’s haunting singing, and the organ, which once repaired plays a feature role. The camerawork is disorienting in its stillness and aspect ratio. Filmed in 4:3, First Reformed is almost square in its look and sensibilities. We are so used to widescreen cinema, both in the theater and in the living room, this choice cramps the story by design. The movie is a claustrophobic exercise as the edges of reality crowd Toller and reduce him eventually to his essence. The camera in First Reformed is static almost entirely. It is old-fashioned movie-making, with little editing and traditional angles. Schrader, in shooting this way, gives the viewer nowhere to hide, no relief from the anxiety. For some viewers, these choices will make the film ploddingly dull and lifeless. For those attuned to the story, who carefully examine Toller’s arc, these decisions add tension and depth. This clean, simple direction fits with the film itself.

The performances are staggering. Ethan Hawke has chosen the path less traveled throughout his career. He has largely eschewed (assuming he has been offered them) big-budget, high profile movies, and has instead performed in small, artistic, sometimes unusual features. If one performance defines his career, it should be this one. His Toller is in only occasionally disguised anguish, which is typically seen through expressions or heard in a shattering voice-over that narrates Toller’s journaling. His journal provides the viewer with disturbing insight written on pages soon to be destroyed, Toller tells us, and it provides an internal dialogue through an ingenious device. Cedric the Entertainer is effective and nuanced as he brings Jeffers to life. It would have been easy to turn Jeffers into a cartoon. While the man is flawed, and his priorities are questionable, he is also well-intentioned and tries to serve his church and Toller well.

Amanda Seyfried’s Mary is the emotional hinge of the film in some ways. She loves her husband, but is worried for him. She loves her baby, even in the womb, but agrees with much of Michael’s concerns for the future. She encounters shocking events with a spiritual calmness, but she is not dead inside. I usually think Seyfried is limited as an actress, but here she shines, holding her own with Hawke. While Hill’s Esther seems a minor role, her pain, as she watches a man she loves choose to keep her at arm’s length, is critical. She, more than any other character, attempts to steer Toller with selfless concern.

If you enjoy introspective, deliberate films that challenge viewers, First Reformed should not be missed. To the extent the film portrays a clear worldview, I don’t agree with it. But it says something, and it says it hauntingly. Like any effective art, it provokes. Intellectually, the film will divide, but in an era saturated by entertaining, but sometimes empty, spectacles, it deserves credit. Schrader, though still grappling with God in his life, is a master of cinema, if not of his own soul.

Grade: 4/4 Eggheads

Spoilers Ahead. If you have not yet seen First Reformed, I urge you to stop now.

I finished First Reformed a few days ago and I am still chewing on it. Schrader, given his background, did not accidentally make a film called First Reformed, with a prominent role for a pregnant woman named Mary. The film, though ambiguous, merits reflection though it resists explanation.

I think there are at least two strong interpretations that could flow from First Reformed, and those interpretations may depend as much on the viewer as the film itself. They are “the last temptation of Toller” vs. “the existential void of nothingness.” These interpretations probably depend on how viewers consider the final scene.

As a straightforward matter, Mary appears to prevent Toller’s suicide for the second time. She calls him by his Christian name, Ernst, which lets him know she nows sees him differently. He drops the drain cleaner, and they embrace, finding hope in one another’s arms. Toller, in this version, creeps back from the pit of despair, and realizes there is work to do, love to be shared, and life to be lived while “leaning on the everlasting arms of God,” the hymn that hovers over the last scenes. This is Toller’s existential leap of faith into God. In this understanding, Toller’s faith is opposed to what reason and science have shown him to be “true,” so it is a repudiation of logic and an affirmation of feeling, experience, and emotion. This leaves the viewer with hope, if not a temporal solution to the earth’s problems. This was my first impression of the film, but as time has passed, I lean toward the other message.

This more hopeful view seems to fly in the face of Schrader’s career, and it fits uncomfortably with the tone and implications of the rest of the movie. Jeffers attempts to stir Toller, who is in the process of killing himself, either by suicide vest or poison. Mary’s initial appearance dissuades Toller from his political mission, which would be to discredit Bloq, if not kill him, and undermine the “feel-goodery” of Abundant Life, which Toller finds unsatisfying. Once Mary is in jeopardy, and because of his growing feelings for her, he chooses a more personal death, which is really just an acceleration of the inevitable medical prognosis. Notice that Jeffers tries to unlock the door but fails and returns to the service. Esther begins to sing her hymn, which instead of providing a message of hope for the discouraged, is more of an empty promise. There are no arms. There is nothing on which to lean. The only everlasting reality is nothingness. If there is hope for the future, it is via human action, but frail religion provides cowards a place to hide from that reality. Toller, in this telling, dies by poison but his final thought is of a possible reunion with Mary, who is a sliver of happiness, a fantasy. The room is brightly lit, her presence, in spite of the locked door, is a miracle only explained by its detachment from reality for Schrader. Their embrace, where the camera is unleashed, at last, and their hungry kissing, feels more fantastical than real. The ending is actually a replay of Toller’s journal note about Michael’s final thought before death. Here, we see Toller’s last vision. Mary, and her child so innocent, are merely illusions of hope, even for the fervent like Toller, who at their final moment will see only black, which is what greets the viewer immediately.

I think Schrader made the ending ambiguous, and he has stated as much, on purpose. He wants viewers to draw their own conclusions. However, Schrader skewers all religion in the film. Abundant Life veers toward the consumeristic prosperity gospel. First Reformed embraces an unplugged orthodoxy that offers no solution to this world’s problems. Religion, for Schrader, hides reality, which is what makes it so problematic. It distorts people. In this manner, I think Schrader suggests environmentalism is a religion of a kind. It fills the space religion once occupied for people like Michael and, eventually, Toller. It shares with religion the defect of apparent certainty, which robs people of joy and love, which can at least provide meaning for life in the here and now.

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