Padre Pio

A dull journey to a foregone conclusion.

In cinematic confession, no number of Hail Marys could make amends for this.

It’s been a while that the maker of such ‘90s masterworks as King of New York... and The Addiction hasn’t been fully on top of his game, but Padre Pio, despite molto sincerity and a few flashes of bravado, feels beyond the point of redemption.

It is a minor film, but interesting.

A clunky, strange and austere biopic on the Italian priest Padre Pio.

It overflows with big themes and fascinating people, so the textured, naturalistic performances add weight. But the subdued pace and anecdotal structure are tricky to engage with, and the historical setting is more interesting than the plot.

But even with its flaws, Padre Pio can be recognized as an admirable and deeply personal effort — for both its director and its star — that still packs the occasional cinematic punch.

Ferrara does not hold back in showing the physical and emotional devastation inflicted on the town by the Great War.

In the context of cancel culture, what better rejoinder to the annihilating disappearing act of a “cancellation” than the notion of forgiveness—although we can well be rightly uncomfortable watching LaBeouf here after all he’s been accused of.

Interesting for completists but hardly as interesting as the figure or material it depicts, Padre Pio isn’t so much a biopic but a mutated chimera of jarring cinematic elements.