SACRED HEART: Wrestles With Our Inner Demons

There’s a joke that tells the story of a priest and a rabbi who find themselves sharing seats on a journey. It might be a train ride, or a bus ride, or a plane ride. That doesn’t really matter. They strike up a conversation and find they enjoy each other’s company and indeed, have a great deal in common. As their discussion progresses, they begin sharing more personal details about their lives. Finally, the priest says to the rabbi, “Let me ask you a question–you’re supposed to only eat kosher meat, right?–but be honest with me, have you ever had pork?”

The rabbi considers this for a moment before responding, “Yes. Yes, I have eaten pork. But if we are being this honest with each other, then let me ask you in return–you are supposed to remain celibate, to refrain from sexual intercourse–but have you had sex?”

The priest’s cheeks begin to turn red, and looking down he replies, “I am ashamed to admit it, but in a moment of weakness I have had sex.”

The rabbi chuckles and lays his hand on the priest’s shoulder, “It’s a lot better than pork, isn’t it?”

Wrestling With the Devil

Sacred Heart, the feature film debut from Australian writer-director Kosta Nikas is not as lighthearted as our rabbi friend, but it has moments of dark humor sprinkled throughout its harrowing look at one man’s dark night of the soul after losing his wife and unborn child to a hit-and-run driver. It also thematically climaxes on a joke told by a dying priest that might be funny or hopelessly despairing depending on your point of view.

The film begins with a gorgeous sweeping shot of a cemetery on the waterfront, finally focusing on Robert (Kipan Rothbury), who is there burying his wife. The officiating priest, played by David Field (Chopper, The Rover), attempts to console him, telling Robert his wife and unborn child are with God now. But Robert is distraught, angry, distressed and tells him to f*ck off. It’s the kind of response anyone who has lost someone they care deeply about can relate to, even if they wouldn’t be so blunt in their reply.

Robert visits a psychic, wishing to speak to his wife, but the psychic informs him that’s not what she does. He visits another priest for confession, but his anger is too great. “You first,” he requires from the clergyman. He visits a crime boss, and in a tensely constructed, mostly wordless exchange, acquires a gun and the name of the man who killed his wife. This last interaction we recognize as “Chekov’s gun,” the dramatic principle which states that a loaded gun introduced in the first act of a story must be fired by the third act. To the film’s credit, the second act of Sacred Heart is so engrossing, I had forgotten about the gun by the third act.

The second act begins with Robert spiraling into a manic depressive state. He engages in a one-night stand, disconnects from the outside world, and goes on a drug and alcohol fueled bender. He grew up in the church and is now questioning his faith. Is this tragedy God’s fault? Is it the devil’s? He rails against the silence of both the God he grew up believing in and the devil who–if he exists–appears to be tormenting him. And why him, an insignificant man? And then David Field’s priest appears.

What follows is an increasingly fraught discussion between the two men. This section recalls some of the great conversational films that consist primarily of dialogue between two characters like My Dinner with Andre, or more recently and of a closer nature, The Sunset Limited which starred Tommy Lee Jones (who also directed) and Samuel L. Jackson and is based off a play by Cormac McCarthy.

Here, Robert and the priest trade philosophical jabs and literal blows as they wrestle with the nature of religious faith, suffering, sin, and justice. To filmmaker Nikas’ credit, the exchange moves beyond philosophy 101 arguments and thoughtfully engages–partially through flashback sequences and the films’ more action oriented beginning and closing acts–how its characters act and behave, which is often at odds with their stated ideologies.

Sacred Heart: Conclusion

Like the rabbi who has eaten pork, or the priest who has had sex, often we find ourselves acting in ways that do not adhere to our own values and beliefs. But unlike the rabbi and priest, often we are blind to our hypocrisy, even as we observe and rail against it in others. Here, Robert claims to know and love his wife with uncompromising devotion, but the priest presses him, “What was her favorite color? Her favorite dress?” How well did Robert know her? And through flashbacks we see actions Robert took that call into question the story he has told himself about his love for her. But can Robert face those parts of himself? Or will he succumb to ending his or others’ lives over his despair?

Sacred Heart is a mature, thoughtful, and dramatic piece of filmmaking for a first-time feature director. David Field provides the restrained gravitas needed to balance Rothbury’s emotionally and mentally unstable Robert. And the story ends with a form of dramatic closure, but leaves the questions it raises in the minds of viewers to continue to wrestle with as they piece together the twists in the third act.

What are the best films built around a conversation?

Sacred Heart is currently available for purchase on Blu-Ray, DVD, and video-on-demand.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XfgdH15l9lA