I had the idea that I’d read about the film Ordetover at Big Hollywood, but a search of their archives shows that that isn’t true. So I’m not sure where I learned about it, but I was impressed enough to place it in my Netflix cue.

Considered one of the masterpieces of one of the world’s great directors, Carl Theodor Dreyer, Ordet (The Word) is a movie that makes demands on the viewer (and not only because it’s in Danish and subtitled). It’s glacially slow by contemporary standards, and will shock many viewers with its treatment of subjects that, in our day, would only be handled in the cheesiest, low-budget Christian films. But I found myself increasingly engaged as the story went on, and was deeply moved by the end.

Released in 1955, the film is set in Denmark’s Jutland province (where some of my own ancestors came from) in the 1920s. The central figure is Morten Borgen, a rich farmer. He is a Grundtvigian, and in order to explain that I’ll have to tell you a little about Danish Lutheranism.

In Denmark in the 19th and early 20th centuries, there were two chief strains of popular Christianity, both of them Lutheran. They were the Grundtvigians and the Pietists (here called the Inner Mission). The followers of Pastor Nicolai F. S. Grundtvig concentrated their devotion more on the institutional church and the sacraments, while the Pietists emphasized personal conversion, home “edification” meetings, and strictly moral living. The Grundtvigians were nicknamed the “Glad Danes,” while the Pietists were called the “Sad Danes.” (A subtle joke in the movie, which most American viewers won’t fully appreciate, is when Morten, in an argument with Peter Petersen the tailor, the local Pietist leader, tells him that he himself believes in a Christianity full of joy, while Petersen’s religion is all gloom and longing for heaven. Everything we’ve seen of Morten’s actual life demonstrates this assertion to be nonsense.)

One of Morten’s sons falls in love with Peter Petersen’s daughter, and Morten is, at first, vehemently opposed to his marrying a girl “not of our religion.” But when the son reports that Peter has denied his suit, because he’s “not a Christian,” Morten shifts course abruptly. His son not good enough for a poor tailor’s daughter? He’ll see about that!

Morten has another son, Johannes, who has gone insane (from reading too much Kierkegaard, we’re told). Johannes believes he’s Jesus, and wanders around in a sort of daze, quoting Scripture and making prophecies. He’s not a figure of fun; indeed he actually becomes the Christ figure in the story.

Morten’s oldest son is Mikkel. Mikkel has lost all religious faith, but is devoted to his sweet wife Inger, who is in the final stages of pregnancy. A complication in Inger’s delivery brings on the crisis that revives faith and resolves conflict among the characters.

Don’t put on this movie as a diversion while you’re doing something else. It demands close attention, and moves at its own speed. Director Dreyer, who often dealt with issues of faith in his films, does not take sides either with the Glad or the Sad Danes, but seems to want to call both sides to the deeper priorities of faith.

I found the ending moving, but difficult to assimilate. Perhaps it’s because I’ve rarely seen anything like the climax in a quality movie. It’s mostly (perhaps not entirely) consistent with my beliefs, but more explicit in its treatment of the power of God than I would be in a story (and I’m pretty preachy).

It’s definitely worth a viewing, for those willing to wrestle with it.