Lilies of the Field

A simple story that aims for emotional warmth and heart-tugging uplift, and succeeds, Lilies of the Field is a sweet little movie that charms. One of the Oscars earliest little movies that could, Sidney Poitier took points on the backend and director Ralph Nelson put his house up as collateral, this is the film that won Poitier his Oscar, a ceiling shattering piece of history. While no cinematic giant like A Raisin in the Sun or In the Heat of the Night, Lilies of the Field still has considerable power despite its creakier elements.

There’s no getting around it when you watch enough films of Sidney Poitier in a row: Lilies provides a respectable and safe character for him. One that folds easily into his burgeoning sexlessness and transformation into dignified symbol of Hollywood’ timid liberalism. Here is an itinerant worker that stumbles upon the convent of East German nuns who spars playfully with the mother superior (Lilia Skala) and demonstrates the hints of rapacious humor, physical freedom, and pleasing sensuality that erupted in prior works. While the role is a bit too saintly, it’s easy to see why this particular role nabbed him that coveted gold statue and cemented his place in cinematic history.  

Sure, the storytelling is formulaic yet there’s still several pleasing moments and an overall charm that works. Watching Skala’s mother superior culture clashing with Poitier is a joy that finds numerous permutations throughout the film. Poitier’s humor is a refreshing antidote to what could otherwise be a turgid, heavily sentimental journey. The begrudging respect and companionable relationship formed between the characters forms the backbone of the film, and winds up providing it with an optimism and small-scale poignancy.