By Jason Osiason

The Testament of Ann Lee had me drifting between awe and distance. I wanted to be swept away by it, and sometimes I was. I have always liked Mona Fastvold’s stillness as a filmmaker especially in 2020’s The World to Come, in the way she builds tension through silence and light, but this one feels heavier, almost sacred. Watching it, I kept feeling the air tighten around me.

Amanda Seyfried is the entire heartbeat of this film. I have never seen her do something like this. The way she carries grief is so quiet it becomes magnetic. When she sings, it feels less like acting and more like surrender. I do not even share Ann Lee’s faith, but I believed every second of Seyfried’s conviction. She makes belief look dangerous, seductive, and holy all at once.

The film follows Ann Lee, the founder of the Shaker movement, who turns unbearable loss into divine purpose. Around her gathers a small circle of believers who worship, doubt, and ache in her shadow. Stacy Martin brings a soft edge of fear, Christopher Abbott’s husband figure radiates wounded love, and Thomasin McKenzie’s quiet curiosity feels like a window into our own. I was drawn to their small tremors of emotion as much as the film’s grand vision.

Visually, it is extraordinary. Shot on seventy millimeter, every frame glows like candlelight trapped in dust. The scenes of worship and dance feel less like choreography and more like possession. Daniel Blumberg’s score rises from old Shaker hymns and dissolves into something raw and alive. There were moments when I felt lifted into the film, almost like prayer.

But it can also feel distant. The storytelling moves so slowly that I sometimes felt left outside looking in. The reverence becomes its own wall. I admired what I was seeing but wanted to feel the pulse of it, to be shaken instead of hushed.

Still, there are images that will not leave me. Seyfried standing in a field of light. The way her voice trembles in the final hymn. The look on her face as faith gives way to exhaustion. The Testament of Ann Lee did not give me the full emotional release I was searching for, but it left me haunted by its beauty. [B-]