'Triumph of the Heart' Review

A true triumph of Catholic filmmaking

Caution: This film deals with intense and grim subject matter and while nothing explicit is shown it may not be appropriate viewing for children.

Last week I had the privilege of attending the premiere of EWTN’s “Triumph of the Heart,” a film about Maximilan Kolbe written and directed by Anthony D’Ambrosio. While I am not a regular viewer of explicitly Christian movies – flawed as they often are by moralizing or insipid representations of religion – the opportunity was so unique that I felt I should go. I am glad that I did. The creators of the film were clearly also aware of the poor reputation “saint movies” oftentimes have; one of the hosts began the evening by narrating a story about Mother Angelica in which he recalled her threating to come back to haunt anyone who attempted to make a “plaster statue” of her after her death. “Triumph of the Heart” successfully skirted this pitfall, while also avoiding the opposite error – committed by Angel Studio’s “Cabrini” – of neglecting the inner spiritual life of the saint the film celebrates. Instead, “Triumph” embraces both the natural human weakness and towering spiritual strength of its protagonist, resulting in a truly Christlike portrait of St. Maximilan, a likeness made visually explicit towards the end of the film.

The entirety of the film, with the exception of flashbacks, takes place in a starvation bunker at Auschwitz and follows the ten occupants of the cell, as well as the German commander who places them there. In other words, it is not a biopic as commonly understood. Consequently, the film assumes some minimal knowledge of Kolbe’s life upon the part of the audience, but nothing that couldn’t be gleaned from the briefest of biographic summaries. Maximilian’s vision of the two crowns of martyrdom and purity is depicted, for instance, but never explained by the film.

Visually, the film was impressive. The close physical confines of the cell are emphasized by the choice to use the more square 4:3 ratio reminiscent of older films rather than the more cinematic 16:9 ratio customary today. The film employs a bland color pallet – appropriate for its grim subject matter – but plays with light and shadow making it visually interesting. What I found most appealing, however, was the use of Catholic symbols and imagery, sometimes obvious and sometimes subtle, throughout the film. Without going into two much detail, I will briefly note the aforementioned representation of Maximilan as Christ, the scars on Mary’s face in Maximilan’s vison which copy the slash marks seen on the icon of Our Lady of Częstochowa, and a powerful scene between St. Maximilan and the camp commandant which eerily suggests both a Catholic confession and a demonic temptation.

The choice to employ minimalistic, if rich, cinematography also means that the film depends upon the actors to deliver equally rich performances, which for the most part they do. For me personally, the standout of the film was Rowan Polonski as a young polish soldier and aspiring author named Albert whose memories of his past life provide the through-narrative for most of the movie. It is he who has the most poignant arc in his relationship with Maximilan, and the actor’s commitment to the role through all stages of grief and even madness was impressive. The rest of the mostly Polish cast was also strong, and Marcin Kwasny turned in a compelling performance as Kolbe; he is compassionate, joyful, and even funny at times, while managing to hold the rest of the cast together even as his character sustains the condemned prisoners in his cell. If one had to make one small criticism, it would perhaps be that some of the characters – from the distance of a few days later – blend together in my mind and lack the distinction which one would like to see in such a cast. A couple stand out in my mind, but some are almost completely interchangeable, a consequence of having to allocate screen time to a dozen-odd characters some of whom die early on in the story. Given that most are imaginary and based on a cross-section of the historical occupants of the camp as a whole, this is perhaps forgivable, however, and does not take too much away from the film’s central themes: fatherhood, Polish identity, and the importance of media.

The first of these is the importance of fatherhood, which the director himself, Anthony D’Ambrosio, emphasized in his opening speech. Maximilian, especially in his relationship with Albert, provides a model of spiritual fatherhood which is contrasted by the devolving and ultimately destructive portrait of biological fatherhood provided by the camp commandant. “Triumph’s” vision of fatherhood as strength through mercy and forgiveness, and courage through leadership and example rebukes the twin contemporary errors of paternal abdication and patriarchal tyranny which we see increasingly celebrated by the extreme ends of the ever-divergent cultural and political aisle.

The second theme, about which I have more to say, is Polish identity and patriotism. Since the various members of the starvation bunker come from different faiths, the central factor which ties them together is their identity as Poles. This was clearly central to the vison of the film makers, since the majority of the cast, as mentioned above, is Polish, and much of the film was shot in Poland. While this will be of especial interest to people who have ties to Poland, or admire that country, I believe that by extension we are also intended to think about our own relationship with our own country – after all, the film is in English, not Polish – and realize that patriotism, or love of country, is a beautiful virtue and well worth giving one’s life for on its own account. The centrality of Polish identity to the film, however, also leads to my last critique, concerning the ending of the film – after the main events have concluded – which seems to me to shy away from stepping into the area of the sublime in favor of emphasizing the Polish elements of the story and characters. The choice is a reasonable one, I think, but curious as I can think of other ways of concluding which might have taken the film to new heights. I have a lot more thoughts on the subject but will refrain from saying more so as to avoid spoilers.

The last theme, which I believe leads to the main takeaway from the movie, is the importance of media to the spread or suppression of truth and the Faith. Media, of course, was very important to the real St. Maximilian, and the film emphasizes that element of his mission. It also highlights, especially in one confrontation with the commandant, the dangers of letting atheistic secular powers control the means of communication and education both then and today. For “Triumph” the medium is also the message, as the saying goes, and the film itself serves as a reminder that good Catholic media can make a positive difference in the world. Through the immersive medium of cinema, “Triumph of the Heart” can place viewer in the bunker and challenge him or her to ask, “What would I do in their situation?” This is the real strength of this film, and perhaps of any good saint story or movie. I encourage you, dear reader, (as long as you are not too squeamish about eating rats) to get out and see “Triumph of the Heart.” It is a good example of what Catholic cinema can be: beautiful, well made, and challenging.