I was really looking forward to The Testament of Ann Lee, the biopic of Shaker founder Ann Lee, directed and cowritten by Mona Fastvold and starring Amanda Seyfried as the titular character. My wife and I have read a bunch of books on Shakers over the last few years, including at least one cited by the filmmakers in the end credits. We knew from the trailer that this would be a Hollywood treatment, with Ann Lee played by a lithesome young blonde actress but we figured it might be interesting enough anyway.
Nope. It didn’t feel as if the director really understood either the theology behind Shaker aesthetics or the profound oddness of Mother Ann. Much of the movie leaned heavily on music-video styling, with wall-of sound electronica and well-trained singing voices reworking Shaker hymns, all set to carefully choreographed dance scenes. That would be fine for a Pat Benetar biopic but the real Shakers were fiercely against musical instruments (they considered them used “to excite lasciviousness, and to invite and stimulate men to destroy each others’ lives”). I’ve always imagined that dancing would have been more of the random repetitive trance of hippy or all-night raver — chaotic, unpredictable, profoundly un-synchronized.
I certainly understand that creators of period dramas sometimes feel the need to go off in ahistorical directions, especially in their use of music, as a way of setting a mood. But the plainness of Shaker music and dance is precisely its point. To make it too perfect is to misunderstand the theology itself.
The Ann Lee in my head canon isn’t a comely figure with a lust for mystical visions, burning truth and kindness for all. She’s short, kind of shapeless, illiterate, but most of all she’s unpredictable, by turns kind and mean, but also batshit and manipulative. The movie only has one scene about her confessions (a tame depiction at that), which is a shame as confessions were a core part of Mother Ann-era Shaker bonding. When people came to join or even visit the Shakers, she would confront them to confess all their sins in great detail. It was a humiliating process and not by accident: personal humiliation is a key tactic for all cults. There’s an implied blackmail, as embarrassing details could be shared publicly of anyone who might change their mind and want to leave. Another common cult tactic is separating individuals from their families, also an essential part of the Shaker experience.
In the movie, we see a dramatic example of townspeople terrorizing the Shakers but we’re never shown why the locals might be so angry. When people joined the Shakers they split up marriages, pulled children from parents, demanded converts give their material goods to the collective, and turned the new believers against their non-Shaker families. There were accusations that they stole wives and children, all detailed in lawsuits. The Shaker model was a profound threat to the familial structures that held together late-eighteenth century New England life. The violence shown the Shakers was inexcusable but also somewhat understandable — well, unless you watched this movie, where it was portrayed as a fear of the unknown.
The details also seriously strayed from history toward the end, depicting later Shaker life as co-existing with Mother Ann. That’s a terrible choice. Shakerism as an organized religion arguably only began shortly after her death, when a new leadership came together, new settlements started, and a social structure constructed that rewarded technical innovation. Pretty much everything we associate with Shaker design — the flat brooms (1798), the efficiently of the round barns (1826), the apple peelers (1830s), even the hymns that this movie sets to modern music (“Song of Summer” is c. 1875) — came later and really could only have come from institutional Shakers. This is the course of most new religious movements: a charismatic leader holding a small band of committed zealots together, followed by a later institutionalization of roles. By smushing these eras together, Mother Lee’s life is sanitized and Shakers presented as an American origin story.1 2
What’s ironic that the movie itself is beautifully done. The rocked-up ahistorical Shaker songs are stirring. The singing and dancing are beautiful and well choreographed. The cinematography is exceptional. Amanda Seyfried does a great job playing the character she’s been given. If only she had been given Mother Ann!
I recently got around to seeing Quentin Tarantino’s Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, another period movie that profiles a cult in a tumultuous time in American history. It transported me so much more than this one. As I sat in the theater this week, sighing as yet another music video montage powered up, I found myself longing for an auteur with a tiny budget to take on Ann Lee’s story (David Lynch would have understood the essential weirdness of Ann Lee). Less is sometimes more. And it definitely would have been for this production.
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