THE HOLY GIRL

-By Ethan Alter

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It's not difficult to figure out why Pedro Almodóvar signed on as executive producer of The Holy Girl, the second feature from Argentinean writer-director Lucrecia Martel. After all, the film's narrative is driven by two of Almodóvar's favorite subjects: sexual frustration and Catholicism. Martel is a less...er, flamboyant filmmaker than her producer, however, and as a result, The Holy Girl is nowhere near as stylish as Bad Education or Live Flesh. This movie observes its characters from a certain distance, which may lead some viewers to conclude that it is cold or remote. That would be an inaccurate assessment, though, as the film is filled with passion...just of the closeted variety.

Like Almodóvar, Martel isn't overly concerned with exposition. The film begins in an environment of organized chaos as a gaggle of doctors descends on a small hotel for a week-long medical conference. It takes a good 16 minutes to get a handle on who everyone is, but gradually familiar faces emerge. For starters, there's Helena (Mercedes Morán), the attractive divorcée who runs the hotel with her outgoing brother Freddy (Alejandro Urdapilleta). Helena has a teenage daughter named Amalia (Maria Alché), a quiet young thing who only opens up when she's with her best friend Josefina (Julieta Zylberberg). One of the girls' favorite pastimes is whispering during their Catholic study group, trading secrets and laughing at their overly pious instructor. When they do bother to pay attention, they discuss the concept of vocation, or a mission to serve God. Neither teen particularly understands this urge, but for Amalia that suddenly changes one afternoon. While standing in a crowd of people, an older man approaches her from behind and deliberately pushes his crotch up against her. Amalia is startled, but she doesn't cry out. Instead, she lets the man linger for a moment and then cranes her head to see his face. Before she can make eye contact, he dashes away, but not before she gets a good look at him.

As it turns out, this mystery man is one of the doctors staying at the hotel, a sad-eyed hearing specialist named Dr. Jano (Carlos Belloso). Jano doesn't know who Amalia is, but she watches him around the hotel, as he attends conference after conference and dutifully flirts with her mother. As she observes him, her vocation becomes clear to her: She's meant to "save" Jano-in other words, show him that his urges are nothing to be ashamed of. If this sounds less like God's work than the fantasies of a sexually curious teenager, that never occurs to the newly emboldened girl. She sets about her mission with zeal, repeatedly trying to get Jano alone, but the good doctor-who has a wife and several kids at home-is having none of it. Of course, Amalia has made the mistake of informing her best friend about her encounter with Jano, which means that it's only a matter of time before the truth comes out.

Traces of other films can be spotted in The Holy Girl; Amalia's fervent devotion to her strange task recalls the equally obsessive girls from Heavenly Creatures and her burgeoning interest in sex brings to mind the heroine of Fat Girl. But in both form and content, The Holy Girl is its own creature. At first, the movie's slow, deliberate pace is off-putting. Scenes don't seem to end as much as they simply stop and one almost needs a scorecard to keep track of the characters' relationships to one another. But after a while, the film casts its spell. And while the visual style appears simple, if you watch closely you'll notice Martel's excellent use of close-ups, relying on peoples' faces-rather than their words-to tell the story. Interestingly, she's not overly concerned with making the audience understand, or even like, her characters. In fact, their motivations remain something of a mystery throughout the film. If you are the kind of moviegoer who likes having all your questions answered before the final fade-out, The Holy Girl may leave you unsatisfied. But if you enjoy having something to mull over, Martel gives you plenty to think about.