In a scene in Spotlight, one character points out to another that just down the street from his own home is a house he never noticed before. It’s the home to several former priests forced into leave by the church after their molestation of young parishioners was discovered. Briefly, the measured Spotlight turns into a horror film, with a home full of menace and evil lurking quite literally around the corner.
The Club, by the Chilean director Pablo Larrain, descends straight into that hell, placing us in one of those houses—but instead of Boston, this time, we’re in a remote Chilean fishing village called La Boca. Several priests live quietly, in a regimented and peaceful life near the ocean, looked after by a woman they call “Sister.” They raise a dog for racing and pray and eat together. It’s like a small monastery.
Except everyone in the little enclave are there paying for their sins, sent there by the church. And when a new member of the house shows up, so does one of his victims, who describes in very graphic detail outside their gate what was done to him. Soon an agent of the church—Father Garcia, a straightlaced, humorless Jesuit who is a servant of the “new” church—shows up to the home to investigate each inhabitant, discovering in the process that they all maintain they don’t belong there with the other degenerates. Their sins vary, but represent in microcosm a number of the Church’s worst offenses against its flock, and they all hate Fr. Garcia, who seems to semicordially despise them back.
Larrain—who was raised Catholic but no longer practices—told the New York Times that “the key words in making The Club were ‘compassion’ ...1