The Testament of Ann Lee had its North American Premiere at the 2025 Toronto International Film Festival. Searchlight Pictures will release it in theaters on December 25.

The TIFF press gods might smite me for mentioning this right off the bat, but early in the Press and Industry screening for The Testament of Ann Lee, the 70mm projection sputtered for a moment, only to then fully cut to a black void. An ironic wave of applause and cheering came over the audience of critics, with many (including myself) lining up hours prior in the crisp morning air. The distraction lasted less than a minute, with the heavenly image of Amanda Seyfried’s titular character and her devout followers reappearing on the screen in a rush of rhythmic dance.

This hiccup was just another reminder of the tightrope that director Mona Fastvold and her co-writer/partner Brady Corbet must traverse to get their art made and presented in the purest way possible. The pair were at the prior edition of the festival with The Brutalist, their efforts finally rewarded after years of toiling with financing, recasting, and distribution. The fact that a movie of that scale and intelligence could be crafted for a mere sum of $10 million calls into question the ethics of modern moviemaking. Fastvold and Corbet went unpaid for their efforts, and much of their crew labored for a fraction of their usual fees.

But just as László Tóth and Ann Lee were unshakeable in their creed, so are Fastvold and Corbet in their artistic integrity. The Testament of Ann Lee arrives at the festival under a similar scenario to The Brutalist: undistributed, a laundry list of producers and foreign subsidiaries, and an eagerness to ward off any spineless suit with the premise of a quasi-musical about a female-led religious movement set during the years before the American Revolution. Unlike Tóth, Ann Lee was a real person. She was born in Manchester, England, and received no formal education, remaining illiterate throughout her life. The ecstasy of religion mitigated the agony of daily life. Her shepherds were James and Jane Wardley, who preached the value of cleansing oneself from sin through chanting and dancing.

The unconditioned eye may judge these people as crazed zealots, flailing about with the same rhythm of a seizure. Fastvold lowers our guard by burying the camera deep within their movements, each contortion an act of pure faith. The Brutalist composer Daniel Blumberg returns with a rich soundscape that focuses on the repetition of words and phrases. The songs “Beautiful Treasures” and “Hunger and Thirst” bring together all facets of the production into a harmonious expression of resilience. None of these tunes will be climbing up the Spotify charts, and they’re probably better off because of that.

Ann’s devotion is not rewarded with the gifts of children, all four of them dying before their first birthday. These costs of lust, along with Ann’s mother being sexually assaulted when she was a child, lead her to swear off any physical bodily pleasures. Her followers obliged, which is probably why their numbers have dwindled down to just two in 2025. It’s from here that the movement transplanted to America, a land of religious tolerance (cue the ironic slide whistle).

Seyfried is unshakeable in her commitment, grabbing hold of this golden opportunity to fully flex her musical talent. It might be her best work yet, a remarkable achievement in this Renaissance period that includes turns in Mank and The Dropout. The supporting players - Lewis Pullman, Thomasin McKenzie, Christopher Abbott, Tim Blake Nelson - all have their moments to shine, although not in the usual form of musical solos or dance numbers. They share a glance or a steadfast prayer in defense of the persecution they receive from the conservative leaders.

I’d say that Fastvold and Corbet deserve more than the pennies they receive to make their films, but it doesn’t seem like they need it. The pair obviously sees themselves in their subjects, willing to put everything on the line for what they believe in. Lest we forget that history was never made by the meek. You probably won’t become a Shaker after seeing The Testament of Ann Lee, but you’ll be a believer in their convictions and the overwhelming power of their story.