THE TESTAMENT OF ANN LEE

It's disappointing that 'The Housemaid' will almost certainly be the more-seen film of Amanda Seyfried's recent work, because what she achieves here in the lead role is nothing short of tremendous. She weeps, she croons, she shouts, she convulses, and she bleeds, in an eruption of pain and elation in equal measure. At points, it's unclear if her outstretched arms and wide eyes are blazing with divine ecstasy or trauma-induced fracturing of the psyche. Despite her revolutionary higher calling, Seyfried manages to ground Ann as a deeply wounded woman, never going to extremes.

The most fascinating element of 'The Testament of Ann Lee' is how it leans into the combustible nature of Ann's faith, directly rejecting the shame-filled, soft-spoken piety expected of women at the time. Her visions are never serene; they are sharply edited bursts of colour, snakes and naked bodies, leading Ann to reject the notions of traditional marriage and fully embrace celibacy, much to the chagrin of her husband, Abraham (Christopher Abbott, 'Wolf Man', 'Sanctuary'). As such, her faith causes friction, the magnetic pull of her personality meeting hostility from those unwilling to see a woman find her power.

Similarly, Fastvold and Corbet's script thrives in the ambiguity of Ann's motives. Are her visions truly coming from God? Or are they trauma transformed into theology, a chance for survival in a world with very few ways to find it? In refusing to answer this, the film allows Ann to retain her agency and power, even though it may frustrate some audiences. No matter what Ann truly saw herself as – or what the truth is – presenting her as a destabilising force on the concepts of gender, celibacy and community still makes her a radical figure in 2026.

If the film has a weakness, it's that its relentless energy means some elements buckle under its weight. First and foremost, I was not expecting a film as lauded for its uniqueness as this one has been to use a standard cradle-to-grave biopic structure with a voiceover – perhaps this is a choice to anchor the audience among the flurry of other creative liberties, but it's a surprising one nonetheless. Additionally, many supporting characters aren't given much interiority beyond being Ann's blind leaders. In the case of Ann's brother William (Lewis Pullman, 'Thunderbolts*', 'Bad Times at the El Royale'), his day-one devotion to his sister translateing cleanly onto his following of her faith, but this gap is particularly egregious in the case of the film's narrator, Ann's friend Mary Partington (Thomasin McKenzie, 'Eileen', 'Jojo Rabbit'), who we learn nothing about.

Despite this, it's still difficult not to be gripped by Ann's story. In embracing the chaos of her life, 'The Testament of Ann Lee' moves with as much fervour as her unconventional methods of worship. It's a film that understands that true faith is rarely as tranquil as we might believe. It's disruptive, chaotic and often overwhelming.