Few lay people besides art historians discuss the corporeality of religion and the iconography of holy figures whose blood or severed limbs represent suffering for a greater good. The general public tends to snicker or turn away, creeped out by Mater dolorosas weeping blood, or saints carrying their severed breasts. In Holy Emy, director Araceli Lemos makes flesh and bodily fluids a key component of her gratifyingly elliptical debut, ensuring that corporeality forms a key element in her story of two Filipino sisters living in Greece, one of whom has special healing powers. Given that the director’s first name means “altar of heaven” perhaps it was preordained she’d be investigating religious themes, but there was no inevitability in the assuredness of her direction and the insightfulness and sensitivity of her narrative, cowritten with Giulia Caruso. Launched in Locarno’s Cineasti del Presente section, Holy Emy represents a fresh new Greek voice and should grab the attention of festival audiences.
In just the opening minutes we’re presented with a naked body, urine, blood and armpits being shaved – flesh and fluids that connote the intimacy between sisters Emy (Abigael Loma) and Teresa (Hasmine Kilip) and later feed into the physical manifestations of Emy’s gifts. The two live in Piraeus, working at a fishmonger’s by the port, but despite their closeness they have very different characters. With their mother Pilar recently returned to the Philippines, they’re reliant on each other, yet Teresa feels the need to be part of the community around her, which partly explains why she lets Agyris (Michalis Syriopoulos) have sex with her. It’s also the reason why she’s involved with the local evangelical Filipino Catholic community whose housemother of sorts, Linda (Angeli Bayani), assumes the role of godmother to the two young women.
Even while Teresa looks for increased acceptance from those around her, she remains deeply protective of her sister, an intense young woman who spontaneously bleeds from her eyes. Like their mother, Emy has the gift of healing, and as her codependency on Teresa is threatened by others, she allows herself to be drawn into the parasitic world of Mrs. Christina (Irini Igglesi), a well-to-do matron whose home is a focal point for people seeking alternative healers. Growing friction between the insular happy-clappy Catholicism of Linda’s church group and the mysterious hot house of Mrs. Christina’s quasi-supernatural environment threatens to turn Emy into an object to be possessed.
Though forming a not inconsiderable percentage of immigrants in Europe, the continent’s Filipino communities are marginalized off-screen and practically non-existent on-screen apart from domestic worker roles, which on that level alone makes Holy Emy worthy of notice. But Lemos is concerned with more penetrating elements than simple representation, and her immersion within the Filipino population in Athens and Piraeus gives her insight into cultural elements which are presented without any special emphasis, resulting in a superior film that’s not simply a depiction of a community but a portrait of two special people within that group. A propensity towards heightened spirituality results in a push-and-pull between an open evangelical form of Catholicism and a closed esoteric piety; Emy’s powers place her in the latter camp largely because the traditionalists are convinced it’s evil and don’t have a way of incorporating her gift into their practices.
The early attention to body parts and fluids remains a thread throughout the film, from Emy’s habit of shoving food into her mouth to, most disturbingly, the way she and fellow healer Luis (Ku Aquino) literally push their hands into the spine of a paralyzed young man, pulling out tendons as if the skin is no barrier (the scene is not for the squeamish). Lemos cleverly plays with the creepiness of Emy’s gift, making the audience feel uncomfortable with scenes that verge on horror, yet it’s more a question of atmosphere rather than individual moments, built up with impressive assurance.
The same can be said for the excellent cast. While some like Angeli Bayani (Lav Diaz’s Melancholia and Norte, the End of History) and Irene Igglesi are seasoned professionals, lead Abigael Loma is a newcomer whose disturbing ability to project something animalistic and yet very human makes Holy Emy a mesmerizing experience. Cinematographer Ki Jin Kim, who’s also one of the producers, refrains from shooting Piraeus in a stereotypical way, making it feel real and earthy (perhaps a funny word to use for a port city), contrasting the darker interiors of the immigrant community with the light-filled spaces of the more privileged, officious Mrs. Christina.
Director: Araceli Lemos
Screenplay: Araceli Lemos, Giulia Caruso
Cast: Abigael Loma, Hasmine Kilip, Irini Igglesi, Michalis Syriopoulos, Angeli Bayani, Julio Katsis, Elsa Lekakou, Ku Aquino
Producers: Konstantinos Vassilaros, Mathieu Bompoint, Giulia Caruso, Ki Jin Kim
Executive producer: Mattia Bogianchino
Cinematography: Ki Jin Kim
Production design: Callie Andreadis
Costume design: Eva Goulakou
Editing: Raphaëlle Martin-Hölger, Araceli Lemos
Music: Oiseaux-Tempête
Sound: Dimitris Kanellopoulos, Persefoni Miliou
Production companies: StudioBauhaus (Greece), Utopie Films (France), in association with Nonetheless Productions (USA), Ginedo Films (USA)
World sales: TVCO International Distribution
Venue: Thessaloniki International Film Festival (International competition)
In Greek, Tagalog, English
116 minutes
