Erin Doherty gives a masterful performance as a woman torn apart by grief in the new British drama Faith , a film that does a disservice to its actors when it takes a religious, quasi-horror swerve. The latest film from writer-director Paul Andrew Williams, which had its world premiere at TIFF, trades what begins as a slow-burning, Ken Loach–ian portrait of a vibrant single mother for a disappointing Catholic touchstone better left to religious television networks.
Gina (Doherty) is a candy factory worker and devoted mother to her 9-year-old son, Jamie (Smylie Bradwell), with whom she shares a council-estate flat. They may not be wealthy, but Gina is a strong provider, keeping a neat home and stable family life for Jamie, whom she endlessly dotes on. Leaving Jamie with a teenage babysitter, she pops over to the local pub for a quiz and meets a handsome stranger and teetotaler, Michael (James McAvoy).
Kind, educated, and gentlemanly, Michael isn’t the kind of man Gina is used to meeting. The audience, too, gets a hint that he is different from the rest when Michael walks Gina home and encounters the teenage babysitter. In a Professor X move, he intuits the teen’s transgression and warns her. Here, some viewers may clue in to who they’re dealing with, and it is not a welcome surprise.
Nevertheless, Gina and Michael continue to see one another, though their time together remains chaste and friendly. We get glimpses that Michael may understand more about the world than the average man, and may be able to sense a looming tragedy before it occurs.
It would be remiss to spoil the tragic events that follow, but they send Gina into a tailspin of grief and sorrow. Here, Doherty shines as a woman torn apart. It is such a contrast to the happy, vibrant woman we meet at the beginning of the film, and the actress fully owns this transition, both physically and emotionally. Maternal grief has not been so viscerally captured on film since Vanessa Kirby’s much-lauded performance in the TIFF film, Pieces of a Woman . McAvoy is good, too, as the straight-laced food bank volunteer who spends much of his time looking (and being) worried about his new friend. He rightly leaves the big emotions to his co-star, though, taking a more subdued approach to his performance…until the final act.
But two-thirds of the way in, Faith makes a jarring shift that feels so out of place it squanders all the great work by Doherty and McAvoy that has come before it. The ominous, dark vibe that hangs over the film up to this point transforms into a head-scratching horror move that draws heavily on Catholicism and spiritual belief. You see, the title Faith is quite literal. One is unsure how McAvoy got through what the script asks of his character with a straight face. It feels so awkward and downright cheesy that snorts of disbelief could be heard from my section of the theatre during the premiere. And who can blame them? The last act of the film goes so far off the rails that what could have been a sensitive meditation on what it takes to move on — or not —lands with a thud.
Aside from the performances, Faith also has Simona ÅžuÅŸnea’s cinematography going for it. Confined spaces of Gina’s home feel both dreadful and cozy under the film’s careful lighting. The neighbourhood is wrapped in grey skies, while the candy factory hums with an energy that matches the Gina we meet at the film’s start.
Williams proudly told the TIFF audience that the film was written only last August and rushed into production, and unfortunately, it shows. Not every idea emerges fully formed, and to succeed, Faith needed a little more thought and breathing room. A compelling film is buried inside, anchored by Doherty’s extraordinary performance and a genuine understanding of how grief can consume a person. Unfortunately, Williams seems unwilling to leave that story to percolate. By the time the film reaches for its supernatural and religious climax, that promising and intimate drama has been pushed aside and, with it, much of the film’s emotional power.
