Venice Review: Amanda Seyfried Delivers Her Best Performance in Mona Fastvold’s The Testament of Ann Lee.

      In The Testament of Ann Lee, Amanda Seyfried delivers the best performance of her career. The actress passionately engages with a collection of updated 18th-century hymns composed by Daniel Blumberg, who recently gained recognition after winning an Oscar for The Brutalist earlier this year. Directed by Mona Fastvold and co-written with her partner Brady Corbet, Testament feels closely connected to their prior film, making it easy to envision Seyfried’s Lee—the real founder of the Shaker movement who believed she was the second coming—coexisting in the same textured, grainy, 70mm frame as Adrien Brody’s László Tóth, even if they’re separated by a century.

      The disheveled architect would definitely appreciate the breadth and vision of Testament's ambitions. The narrative opens in Manchester, where a young Lee is employed in cotton mills, rising within a local Quaker sect led by a stoic Stacy Martin. She marries a blacksmith named Abraham (played by the brooding Christopher Abbott) and experiences a transformative vision of God after the loss of four infants. In response to her tragedies, Lee establishes a splinter religion where she becomes "Mother," sex is prohibited (though the long-term viability of this is not fully addressed), and deliverance and joy come through movement and song. Her charisma helps increase her followers, leading to a journey to the New World, although some are less excited about the venture when self-canonization is at stake.

      As one among many who recalls The Brutalist's Venice press screening with the fondness of a pagan farmer reminiscing about dawn, no film this year has lingered in my thoughts quite like Testament. Yet despite its impressive visuals and striking scenes, I left the theater slightly skeptical. Unyielding zealots, regardless of their reasoning, don’t always make for compelling protagonists; even with Seyfried's exceptional voice and energy, the music begins to falter. Fastvold intentionally frames Lee as a survivor, yet her primary flaw seems to be excessive kindness, which I find insufficient to generate meaningful drama. The film portrays her sympathetically; without any hint of malevolence or arrogant folly, Ann Lee loses its significant initial spark.

      The responsibility of shifting dramatic tones rests with a strong supporting cast, but none are given the opportunity to elevate their roles beyond mere archetypes. The storytelling primarily relies on the Testament itself, narrated in a detached manner similar to the Fastvold- and Corbet-written Vox Lux, yet lacking the biting irony that characterized that film. Early signs of conflict emerge through Ann’s brother (played effectively by Lewis Pullman), who expresses incestuous feelings, and a possible challenging romantic interest represented by Thomasin McKenzie’s Mary. However, these plotlines do not develop. Despite her initial struggles, Lee’s life journey—from birth to death—is relatively free of conflict, particularly when compared to other similarly grand epics. It all feels a bit too respectful.

      Regardless of whether you agree with this assessment, there are still numerous reasons to watch it, ideally in a big, loud format. The visuals, captured in 70mm by seasoned cinematographer William Rexer, feature compositions and lighting akin to the Dutch Golden Age. The musical sequences, though at times as repetitive as those in Annette, strike a captivating balance between the surreal and the narrative-driven. Additionally, the characters' movements are fluid, explosive, and at times thrillingly original. It’s nearly enough to inspire belief.

      The Testament of Ann Lee debuted at the 2025 Venice Film Festival.