Nunsploitation

Sister Act

Black Narcissus

Bless you, dear readers. Much like a nun, I’ve become dedicated to a life of solitude and servitude. Solitude to avoid the heat and the latest virus, and a servitude to watching movies. As a Jew, I grew up not with a sense of religiously-induced shame, but just the normal kind of shame. I’ve always been fascinated by religion, for whatever reason—possibly due to my fascination with Greek mythology and fairytales, but also because of a curiosity that came from observing extremely religious peers from a distance. I vividly remember making a joke in seventh grade that I was going to hell, only for a classmate of mine to say, in all sincerity, “And you’re okay with that?” It shook me to my core, not because I believed in hell, but because I’d never interacted with someone who believed in it SO much. That type of fervent fellowship can inspire wild stories of biblical proportions, all of which are rife for cinematic exploitation. Exploitation films are often low-budget, sensationalized films that center upon taboo, bizarre, and culturally anxious topics. While most commercial films are made with money in mind, exploitation films are bold-faced in their intention to profit and in their choices of trending, relevant subject matter. Like noir, exploitation films do not entail a stand-alone genre, per se, but rather a specific kind of filmmaking, one that suggests the cheap production of heavily-dramatized versions of tried and true genres like horror and thriller movies. I’m just gonna continue to refer to exploitation as a genre though, ya film bros, because within exploitation films exist some of the most niche and interesting sub genres of the genre: slashers, biker films, surfer films, sexsploitation, nazisploitation, hippie exploitation, rape-revenge, grindhouse, and, one of the most popular sub genres of the genre—blaxsploitation. Exploitation films are often written about in the past tense because the heyday was back in the 50s, 60s, and 70s, but there are several exploitation filmmakers—like Quentin Tarantino, Eli Roth, Rob Zombie—still working today. One of the most fascinating sub genres within the world of exploitation, one of the most random film types to ever be thought up, is nunsploitation. This sub genre became popular in Europe in the 1970s, although influences of this kind of clergy-related exploitation can be seen all over the world. Nunsploitation, much like the women-in-prison exploitation movies of the 70s, often revolve around women who are isolated and driven to madness that causes them to swing wildly in the other direction of their faith. This, unsurprisingly, often just means lesbianism and some light devil-worshipping. And while this formula has been used, quite a lot, there are several other sub genres within this sub genre. The 2018 movie The Nun is, of course, an example of a horror nunsploitation, and tonight’s first film, Emile Ardolino’s 1992 Sister Act is an example of comedic nunsploitation. Well, to be fair, neither of tonight’s films are that exploitative, as far as the genre as a whole goes, but they both serve as iconic examples of the surprisingly dense category of nun films that exists out there, and they both caused their own respective controversies. Sister Act stars Whoopi Goldberg as a lounge singer named Delores, who, after witnessing her mob bf Harvey Keitel kill a man, must go into witness protection. Harvey Keitel, who is a shockingly hot short king in this, is determined to track Delores down, so the police place her in the last place he’d look—a convent, naturally. What follows is more than just your typical fish-out-of-water, fake identity storyline, but a vibrant, beautifully-costumed, relentlessly funny tale of finding joy and purpose where you least expect it. This film is immediately great, from the very moment it began I was more than captivated. The cast was gloriously good: Whoopi, Maggie Smith, Jennifer Lewis, Harvey Keitel, Bill Nunn, Kathy Najimy, and Mary Wickes and Kathleen Freeman (who have both played nuns before, in The Trouble with Angels and The Blues Brothers, respectively) Maggie Smith was the most believable nun of the bunch, constantly throwing sisterly shade at Delores that seemed to come from a sincere, or at least believably uptight place. The music was entertaining, its mob story line thrilling, and even though Bette Midler was originally supposed to play Delores, I’m so glad it was Whoopi, and I’m so glad this was the cinematic vehicle that put her on the map. Sister Act is just one of those movies that I really, really needed to see. Yes, at 25 years old I am the last person on earth to watch Sister Act, but I don’t even care. I’m glad I knew nothing about this film going into it, and I kinda love that, as wholesome of a movie as it is, it was still surrounded by controversy. Sister Act’s legacy of course lives on in its equally-popular musical adaptation, and in the two lawsuits that came after this film’s release. The first suit came in 1993, when creative duo Donna Douglas and Curt Wilson claimed that the film had plagiarized a screenplay of theirs, citing over 100 similarities between Sister Act and their adapted screenplay of the novel “A Nun in the Closet”. Their screenplay was allegedly submitted to Disney, the company that produced Sister Act, three times during 1987-88 but was rejected each time, only for this nearly identical film to be made. Then, in 2011, Queen Mother Dr. Delois Blakely claimed that Sister Act was based on her 1987 autobiography “The Harlem Street Nun”. According to Delois, who’s name bears a suspiciously close resemblance to the fictional “Delores”, the film ripped off her entire identity, stating that she, too, was a “young, black, singing nun serving the street people and youths of Harlem”. Delois sued on the basis of “breach of contract, misappropriation of likeness and unjust enrichment”, because back in 1987, she allegedly submitted a 3-page synopsis of her autobiography to Tri-Star Pictures, and even received a letter back expressing interest in movie rights. Not only did Delois not receive any credit nor any of the 230 million dollars that Sister Act grossed, but in 2013 the judge dismissed her case entirely. It puts a bit of a damper on this beloved film, to know that it was potentially plagiarized not once, but twice… but I still very much enjoyed it. I wish I could say the same for Powell & Pressburger’s 1947 classic Black Narcissus, a film that promised eroticism but only hinted at it. Black Narcissus is not the most lurid or shocking film of the nunsploitation genre (that title likely belongs to Ken Russell’s The Devils [google it, or wait until I do Nunsploitation part II]), but it did become one of the biggest inspirations for the nun films that followed. Black Narcissus, and the novel it’s based upon, follows a group of Anglican nuns who’ve been sent to a mountain in the Himalayas to establish a church and a school in an all-but-abandoned palace. The green-thumbed Sister Phillipa, the sweet Sister Honey, the strong Sister Briony, and the sickly Sister Ruth are all lead by Sister Clodagh (Deborah Kerr), who reluctantly works alongside the stiffly British Mr. Dean (David Farrar). The palace stands at the edge of a ridiculously high cliff, and once housed the harem of a general that used to oversee the princely state. The walls are covered in erotic paintings of Indian women, its ceilings and windows towering to strange and erratic heights, and everywhere the nuns walk, a ghostly breeze seems to lift and tug at their habits. In addition to their creepy new home, the nuns must now become accustomed to different weather conditions and different cultures, all of which they have pretty awful things to say about. It’s in these instances that Powell & Pressburger deliver their boldest criticism of colonialism and the violent British conquest of India, which was more unexpected than what occurs next. The nuns become increasingly crazy as they adjust to their new environment, causing Sister Briony to fall ill, Sister Phillipa to plant flowers instead of much-needed vegetables, and, most shocking of all, Sister Ruth forms more than a fascination with the brutish Mr. Dean, and his increasingly short shorts. I wouldn’t dare to say that Black Narcissus is doused in erotic subtext, but there is a great deal of sexual tension, with each nun’s descent into madness acting as some kind of outlet for their sexual frustration. The most startling parts of this film, other than the crazy nuns and the flagrant xenophobia, were the large, sprawling set pieces that were used. There is not one scene in this film shot in India, but its meticulously-painted matte set backgrounds would convince you otherwise. Visually, Black Narcissus is a masterpiece. Thematically, it is carrying everything you could want from a tempted-nun story. But in practice, Black Narcissus gave me a bit of biblical blue balls. The most erotic choice of this film to me was each shot of David Farrar as Mr. Dean, as the camera seemed to pay close, special attention to his chest, his legs, and his towering masculine presence within a film with so much feminine energy. I’m not sure if I bought the chemistry between the nuns and Mr. Dean, but I certainly sensed something between the filmmakers and their actor of choice. Both of tonight’s films, while somewhat lacking in the exploitation department, still delivered in the wacky nun department—and to that I say AMEN. 🙏