This film is not just a story-telling process but is also an example of story’s power (art’s power, film’s power, etc.) In many ways, this is a confession in the same vein as Coleridge’s “Ancient Mariner.” Pryce says this about her story’s theme:
“I think one of the ideas that I failed to convey in…[“The Last Confession”] was the notion that when a person experiences a ‘miracle,’ it becomes a psychological burden as well as a blessing. […] There is the burden of feeling grateful for EVERYTHING at EVERY given moment – which is unrealistic. So how do you handle that? My character’s reaction was to unburden himself by confessing his miracle, to bear witness to such an unnatural event. To return to the church which he had forsaken and present this story like an offering. I would’ve wanted to explore this idea of blessing-as-burden, but it would’ve been difficult to do without opening another chapter in the story.”
While I adamantly disagree about the claimed failure, I see this confession as being the heart of the artist’s purpose. Why do we tell these stories? Why do we tell lies about things we didn’t do? Why do we have to tell about our miracles? Whether true or not, I believe that we tell our stories because we have to have someone else hear and believe them for the stories to be true, to have life, and to become miracles. The cliché is that misery wants company, but happiness wants company just as much. As a contrast to this story, consider Mamet’s Sexual Perversity in Chicago. Bernie tells these outrageous stories, not because they’re true, and they are probably not, but because someone will believe them and they will come to life.
