Lorenzo Caproni | Lazzaro vieni fuori (Lazarus Come Out) / 2015

bringing the dead to life

by Douglas Messerli

 

Pietro Seghetti (screenplay), Lorenzo Caproni (director) Lazzaro vieni fuori (Lazarus Come Out) / 2015 [14 minutes]

 

After all the understandably heavy and ponder some films about the sins of gay Roman Catholic priests, it is almost a relief to discover a short comic work in which gay men basically take advantage of a bumbling 45-year-old man of the cloth, the traditional priest Don Walter (Enrico Vandini).

    In his intelligent short commentary, Rich Cline, writing in Shadows on the Wall, nicely sets up the situation:

     

“University student Michele (Fabrizio Colica) turns up in his home church to say hello to Father Walter (Vandini), announcing that his friend Claudio (Davide Lipari) is also in town and would be happy to help with the church play. In fact, he's written one about Lazarus being raised from the dead. Walter is dubious about Claudio's artsy approach, but the girls are smitten by him. More troubling, Walter suspects that Claudio is gay, and that he's too "uninhibited" to play Jesus.”

 

      After all, Don Walter is a truly traditional priest who still wears the old fashioned black tunic, not worn any longer by younger church leaders.

     The work begins in dangerous territory, the middle-aged priest teaching three young altar boys of varying ages, all preteen, how to engage in the service. But these rascals are in no danger, causing more duress to the priest that sexual excitement as, giggling in the process, they go about the conventional church movements in raucous ways, one boy even dropping the altar censor, and he quickly sends them off.

      During the rehearsal Michele has sneaked into the church, watching the activities with laughter. He explains that a friend of his from Bologna, Claudio, has arrived and, as an actor might be able to help them out with the church presentation they are planning. He doesn’t tell Walter that he has already written the play about Lazarus, starring his friend as Christ who raises the dead man back to life.

 

     When in the very next frame when get a view of Claudio we become immediately certain that this extremely handsome young man might raise anyone from the dead—at least sexually. The girls hover around him, and once the priest gets a look at the boy, he too is visibly troubled.

      One of the girls soon after asks the priest if he thinks Claudio is gay, hoping that he might tell her the boy is straight so that she can continue to pursue him.

       This is the first time Father Walter has heard that it was not Michele but Claudio, himself, who has written a script about Lazarus and the original presentation of choral singing has developed into a full play. Even the parishioner/church assistant Marina (Alla Krasovitzkaya), helping with the flowers, shouts out that she thinks Claudio is a handsome boy.

       Walter asks for a copy of the script, which Claudio immediately hands him which he begins reading, the language immediately representing the work as being a rich and sensuous work: “Imagines of chrysalises appear on a white sepulchre, symbolizing birth….” When Claudio mentions that all the characters will be wearing black, the priest argues that metamorphosis is not a sad affair and that the metamorphosis of caterpillars isn’t a miracle.

         But the other “kids” like it and Claudio, and the priest restrains himself from further criticism.

       The next day when Michele and Claudio return to the church to paint the scenery, the priest even offers to help, his eyes on Claudio, as the boy later remarks to his friend—and we soon discover lover. Claudio goes even further, suggesting to Michele that the priest is obviously gay given the way he’s been staring at him. What the boys don’t know is that even now Walter is watching them through the confessional box.

         As Claudio begins to pull his shirt off, Michele runs to prevent him, the two kiss and hugging one another instead as the priest prays. After they have left, he pushes down the cardboard box set in frustration.

         The priest himself later confesses to Marina, “I stepped away for a minute and when I came back I saw them standing in the church…dancing, touching each other, acting…rather girly. And then they kissed.”

         “You mean in front of everyone?”

         “No, of course not.”

         Her response is perhaps what he has all along been seeking. “So what, Walter? Why would you, of all people, judge them?”

         He immediately asks her what she means.

         Her response is obviously a clever one, denying the obvious while expressing her desire: “You’ve always been so modern, so sensitive….”

       The next evening, as the players are working on the final sound check, the priest demands, yet again, to have another word with Claudio. Taking the beautiful boy, in a crown of thorns, away from the others, Walter declares: “The think of the role of Christ isn’t appropriate for you.”

          Asked what he means, the priest attributes the problem to his “personality.”

          “You’re exuberant and so uninhibited,” continues Walther.

          You might expect him to speak of Christ’s own often uninhibited personality as revealed in the biblical texts. But like the church assistant, he turns the priest’s words upon himself: “But aren’t you ‘uninhibited’ as well?”

          But the priest still feels it inappropriate, Claudio arguing that not only is the play that next evening, but he doesn’t have the word “uninhibited” written across his forehead. Indeed, in this scene he looks almost like a cinematic rendering of the innocent Christ we have been told to conjure up from all traditional Western images.

          Again praying the next day outside the church, Michele interrupts him, lamely trying to apologize from bringing Claudio into the church presentation. Noticing his absence, Marina comes looking for the confused priest, wondering if he okay. He asks her an obvious question: “Marina, what does the crown of thorns have to do with Lazarus?”

          Even she confesses she doesn’t know, as she brings him back inside.

          The play is still on, it appears, as we see the actors in their costumes, Claudio appearing this time with a halo around his head, as Jesus.

       Walther appears, as shoos the actors off, as he himself dresses for the performance. This time, instead of his usual black, we observe him dressing in white, trying to scare the cameraman off.

       We now recognize the “crown of thorns” was not the way he was intending to play Christ, but represented what the priest himself had to bear in his own unacceptance of himself. But we also soon perceive that Don Walter has now awakened to a new being, opening himself up to new possibilities.

        This may be one of the first films of a priest himself having been helped by young gay boys to “come out.”

 

Los Angeles, January 7, 2024

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (January 2024).