The Testament of Ann Lee – Film Review

The Testament of Ann Lee is a sweeping, hauntingly lyrical historical drama musical that feels unlike anything the genre has offered in recent memory. Anchored by a revelatory performance from Amanda Seyfried—whose work here carries serious Oscars potential—the film weaves together religion, gender politics, personal trauma, and the birth of a radical new American sect with remarkable grace. It is a film that feels intimate while spanning continents, urgent while set centuries in the past, and emotionally explosive even when the characters must whisper their convictions in the face of oppressive forces.

What director Mona Fastvold and co-writer Brady Corbet craft is not simply a biographical rendering of the Shakers’ founding but a cinematic interpretation of spiritual awakening, doubt, and resilience. The film’s narrative follows Ann’s journey from England to the New World, mapping her evolution from a grieving young woman grappling with devastating personal loss to a spiritual visionary whose teachings on gender equality and communal living remain astonishingly progressive. Yet the film never presents Ann Lee as mythic or infallible; instead, Seyfried portrays her with raw vulnerability and a trembling determination that makes her leadership feel both divinely inspired and deeply human.

The opening section, set in 18th-century England, introduces Ann as she confronts the emotional wreckage of her marriage to Abraham Standerin, played with coiled intensity by Christopher Abbott. Their scenes are among the film’s most harrowing, not because of overt brutality but due to the chilling absence of understanding between them. Abbott’s Abraham is a conflicted figure: both drawn to and threatened by Ann’s spiritual fervor, unable to reconcile her revelations with the patriarchal expectations of marriage. Fastvold uses shadow and candlelight to show Ann’s solitude, her visions interrupting moments of quiet, her songs unfurling like whispered pleas.

Seyfried takes these early scenes and turns them into a study of spiritual becoming. Her voice—clear, trembling, resolving into confident vibrato—becomes a conduit for Ann’s revelations. The musical sequences, composed with a stark, hypnotic quality, never feel like showpieces. Instead, they emerge from emotional necessity: chants, breaths, harmonies that seem pulled from the marrow of a woman trying to make sense of divine calling.

Thomasin McKenzie’s Mary Partington enters the story as one of Ann’s earliest confidants, and the chemistry between McKenzie and Seyfried gives the film an anchor of tenderness. McKenzie plays Mary with a luminous sincerity, portraying a follower who finds in Ann not only spiritual guidance but profound emotional clarity. Their dynamic becomes a critical counterbalance to the turbulence in Ann’s marriage and later in the movement itself.

The transatlantic passage marks a shift in tone—a widening of the film’s visual and emotional palette. Fastvold and cinematographer William Rexer embrace the stark beauty of vast oceans, cold New England landscapes, and early American settlements saturated with suspicion and possibility. As Ann and her small group of followers arrive in America, the narrative transitions from the claustrophobia of domestic repression to the precarious freedom of communal experimentation.

Lewis Pullman delivers one of his best performances yet as William Lee, Ann’s devoted brother. He portrays William as gentle, thoughtful, and fiercely protective, offering a grounding presence as Ann’s visions intensify and her influence grows. Pullman and Seyfried craft a sibling bond that feels lived-in and textured, full of unspoken history and mutual sacrifice.

The film’s depiction of the early Shaker community is both intimate and sprawling. Fastvold stages scenes of group worship with near-ritualistic precision: synchronized movements, stamping feet, percussive claps, and layered voices create kinetic musical numbers that are powerful without ever slipping into theatrical excess. The ecstatic devotion that defined the Shakers becomes not just an element of the story but a cinematic language, a way to express spiritual transcendence through rhythm and motion.

The last third of the film shifts into a more overtly dramatic register as Ann’s devout following grows and external pressures intensify. Persecution—from local churches, civic authorities, and fearful townspeople—mounts steadily, culminating in sequences of danger and heartbreak. Yet these moments never deviate into melodrama. Fastvold maintains tight control over tone, balancing brutality with quiet moments of devotion and defiance.

Seyfried’s performance reaches an astonishing crescendo in this section. Her Ann is neither martyr nor saint but a woman fighting desperately to preserve a fragile new world built on radical ideals. She conveys exhaustion without diminishing conviction, fear without erasing courage. There is one musical sequence in particular—set during a moment of imprisonment—that stands among the year’s most emotionally devastating scenes, blending song, prayer, and whispered pleas for protection in a way that feels simultaneously fragile and transcendent.

Supporting performances continue to elevate the film: Stacy Martin is compelling as a skeptic drawn slowly into the movement’s orbit; Matthew Beard and Viola Prettejohn bring poignant complexity to roles that highlight differing motivations for following Ann; and David Cale and Jamie Bogyo round out the ensemble with layered portrayals that never feel ornamental.

As the narrative draws toward its conclusion, Fastvold does not attempt a tidy resolution. Instead, she embraces ambiguity—appropriate for a story about faith, sacrifice, and the birth of a movement that would leave an indelible mark on American religious history. The film’s final images, quiet but powerful, reflect both loss and legacy, underscoring how Ann’s teachings reverberated beyond her lifetime.

The Testament of Ann Lee succeeds not only as a historical drama but as an emotionally resonant musical that trusts its audience to sit with discomfort, nuance, and transcendence. Its visual textures, atmospheric sound design, and minimalist-yet-impactful score create a wholly immersive experience. And at the center stands Amanda Seyfried, delivering the most commanding performance of her career—one that will undoubtedly be a major force in the upcoming awards season.

This is a bold, beautifully crafted film that marries historical detail with artistic daring. It may be too austere for some viewers, and its pacing is deliberate, but for those willing to surrender to its rhythms, it becomes a profoundly moving portrait of faith, community, and visionary resilience.