I recently watched Song of Bernadette (1943) about a poverty stricken young girl who, in Lourdes, 1858, sees a vision of a beautiful white-robed woman appear before her. Nobody else sees her, but the audience does, and she becomes a religious talisman of the town. I really liked it but I am not going to review the film, I just wanted to point out a single shot which was so beautiful it made me pause and rewind a few times.
I get this from time to time and it is one of the most joyful things about watching films. An image in a film resonates with me so much that I have to take a moment to appreciate it. Quite often it is simply the composition of a frame, something that requires no context - this kind of beauty you get in abundance from directors like Stanley Kubrick or Terence Malick. Sometimes it is because of the depth of emotion and investment you have with the shot. In Song of Bernadette, the shot comes about 20 minutes before the end, and combines the two.
Bernadette has moved to a convent, her reputation proceeds her, but she is still incorporated to the lifestyle lovelessly and placed in her 'cell'. (I found it interesting that the word cell is used in the script, it is simply her room, she is not being held there) As she is shown in, she is left alone in the tiny room as the door closes behind her. We then get the shot that I had to pause and take in for a minute. We are focused on her face in a middle close-up. A cross is mounted on the wall behind her, just outside of focus. She takes a second to take in her surroundings. Her face is almost expressionless, eyes wide, mouth ever so slightly pouty, she is teary. It is in fact a wonderful moment of physical acting. She does nothing but look off frame and blink, but we are forced to read so much into it - it boosted my rating of the film overall quite substantially. It is a simple shot but excuisitely shown, one which I can't seem to forget after almost a week.
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