Mark H. Rapaport’s Godhead is for anyone who’s wrestled with faith, shame, or the lasting impact of growing up in a religious household. An emotional Rapaport introduced the film to an enthusiastic crowd, many of whom were returning after his first feature, Hippo, made its debut at the festival in 2023. Like Hippo, Godhead isn’t afraid to venture into taboo territory—pedophilia, incest, religious fanaticism, and sexual assault are all on the table—but don’t mistake its uncomfortable subject matter for empty provocation. Rapaport has crafted a film that’s philosophical, tender, and breathtakingly beautiful all at once.
Somewhere deep in the American South, a priest (Al Warren) is visited by a pair of strange fraternal twins dressed in matching white tracksuits and sneakers (à la Heaven’s Gate) with a mission. Calling themselves Firstborn (Sarah Coffey) and Secondborn (Hippo‘s Kimball Farley), the twins believe that one of them is the Holy Spirit, and they need a trusted third party to determine which sibling is telling the truth before daylight. Whoever is chosen will be shot and ascend to Heaven to complete the “Godhead,” which they have tattooed on their palms in the form of a crudely drawn dove.
Of course, the priest refuses to help them, convinced they’re playing a sick game. Growing increasingly frustrated, he asks them why they can’t just take the gun into the woods and see what happens if they shoot each other. But when the twins prove that they can’t pull the trigger themselves, the priest becomes an unwilling participant in a twisted spiritual reckoning, one that forces him to confront the demons he thought he had buried.
At first, Godhead unfolds like a Flannery O’Connor story before taking a delightfully Lynchian turn. Without saying too much, fans of Eraserhead will find plenty to enjoy here.
The film is one of the most stunning we’ve seen at Fantasia so far, shot in luminous black-and-white by William Babcock. Farley looks particularly mesmerizing with his fried platinum blonde hair, bleached eyebrows, and wide, dark eyes. Babcock photographs him with a certain angelic softness, even when he’s lunging for the priest or wielding a gun, fitting for a character who may—or may not—be the Holy Spirit.
Every member of the cast fearlessly commits to Rapaport’s audacious material, but Farley is the film’s emotional anchor. He and Coffey have incredible chemistry as the twins, hinting from the moment they step into the church that they’re hiding something far more disturbing than the impossible task they’ve brought to the priest. You probably won’t be surprised when the first half of their secret is revealed. It’s the second half, though, that made the entire audience gasp and chuckle uncomfortably in their seats.
Godhead will ultimately leave viewers with many questions. In fact, as I left the theater, I overheard two people discussing the film’s many messages in the lobby. Are we all actually worthy of forgiveness? Can beauty emerge from profound evil? Who was right? Who was wrong? Rapaport doesn’t fully reconcile some of the ideas he introduces in the film. Even as I’m writing this, I’m still trying to make sense of some of Godhead’s more disturbing implications.
Overall, though, Godhead moved me in a way I wasn’t expecting, and the film’s striking imagery and performances elevate some of the film’s more ambiguous theological/philosophical questions. I’m not saying it’s a comfort movie, but I can see myself returning to this one more than once. Perhaps this is a sign I’ve still got some religious trauma I need to work through as well.
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