Paul Verhoeven’s ‘Benedetta’ is a sexy nun biopic with a satiric edge: review

When you hear that the director of Showgirls made a movie about lesbian nuns, you might suspect Benedetta to be outlandishly raunchy and ferociously campy, reveling in the trashy tropes. However, Paul Verhoeven brings exquisite artistry to this stranger-than-fiction tale, delivering a biopic full of outrageous moments with a sophisticated yet wicked wit. 

Based on the life of a controversial figure in Catholic history, Benedetta follows 17th-century Italian nun Benedetta Carlini from her girlhood in a convent into her vivid religious visions, her romance with a bewitching novice named Bartolemea, and the fiery rebuke from those who doubted her alleged miracles. The contents of this journey are shocking, ranging from full-frontal nudity, graphic sex, and physical torture, to Jesus Christ re-imagined as a strapping action hero, and a religious statuette refashioned as a sex toy. Yet there’s a reverence in this irreverence. Verhoeven doesn’t play these scandalous elements like they’re some saucy joke. He regards sex and violence with awe to reflect the perspective of his rebellious heroine, who felt primal desires had a place in faith. 

Credit: IFC Films

As Benedetta, Virginie Efira grounds the film in a glowing and nuanced performance. Her face slides smoothly from beatific to alertly aroused as unexpected excitement rushes at her, either in messages from her holy husband or her seductive sister. Verhoeven and co-writer David Birke model Jesus’s scenes with her after high romance. So, they meet in a picturesque field or he busts out a sword to rescue her from a rampaging viper. Bartolomea’s wooing is far more earthly, including snort-giggling, clumsy kisses, fart jokes, and an eagerness not only to please but to experiment. With a wild smile and gleeful glint in her eye, Daphne Patakia plays Benedetta’s lesbian lover with a guilelessness that sweetens more sordid scenes. Together, they make for a mesmerizing odd couple. As Benedetta’s high-class poise collides frenetically with Bartholomewa’s low-class impulsiveness, their love sparks joy. 

Benedetta is inarguably gorgeous….It’s also unapologetically ugly and blasphemous.

But all is not well in this convent. When Benedetta’s visions escalate to signs of stigmata, the abbess Sister Felicita (Charlotte Rampling) begins snooping on these secret lovers. The drama brews over how the higher-ups in the church respond to Benedetta’s rumored saintliness. But Rampling’s role becomes a source for unexpected comedy. Surely, Verhoeven must anticipate that his audience will chuckle at some of the sisters’ sexcapades. However, those laughs are sparked by surprise, not comedic crafting. His humor is keenly honed to cut through the hypocrisy in Catholicism. In this, Rampling is his high priestess of satire.

It begins in the first act, when the abbess sits down with a young Benedetta’s affluent father to discuss what he will pay to surrender her to the convent. The man practically balloons with faux-pious pride as he enters, but he is quickly punctured by Felicita’s stern haggling for a dowry. After all, shouldn’t a father gladly pay more to marry his daughter to Christ than he would to wed her to some random mortal man? As she’ll snarl later, “A convent is not a place of charity, child. You must pay to come here.”

If that doesn’t amuse you, then Benedetta is not for you. 

Credit: IFC Films

Verhoeven unblinkingly declares that the higher-ups in the church are hypocrites and scoundrels, who have the same lust and greed as the rest of us, but hide it under their pristine robes. He exhibits the nakedness of his heroines’ beautiful bodies not solely to titillate, but also to remind us of the humans hidden beneath the modest attire — and more specifically of their natural desires. The villains’ skin will be exposed too. However, in a period of plague, their internal ugliness will be revealed with a body-marring metaphor that is not for the faint of stomach. 

In celebrating this provocative religious figure, Verhoeven paints Benedetta’s biopic in rich tones, which make the flush of flesh stand out against the white and black of a nun’s habit. The performances are fearless, yet not preposterous. These are neither the heightened performances of Showgirls or Starship Troopers nor of the kind found in a long line of religious epics, where every line of dialogue is treated as a grand pronouncement. Verhoeven took pains to exhibit this larger-than-life woman and those who knew her as people, complicated and colorful. Yet, there’s still an opaqueness to Benedetta that asks: Where is the line between faith and forgery? Is Benedetta a heretic? A con artist? A sinner? A saint? Or could it be a combination of all of the above? Verhoeven will usher you into her world, rich with passion, devotion, and humanity, grimy yet glorious. However, he won’t give you an easy out. 

In the end, Benedetta is inarguably gorgeous, a Renaissance painting brought to life with yearning and verve. It’s also occasionally ugly and unapologetically profane. While God is divine, mankind is a mess. And this bold movie celebrates it all. 

Benedetta opens in theaters on Dec. 3 then comes to On Demand on Dec. 21.