Among the many cinematic firsts by the Lumière brothers, we also find the first pilgrims ever captured on film—near the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem. Then, in September 1897, an entire screening was dedicated to Lourdes: a series of seven shorts showing early footage of caregiving for people with disabilities and pilgrim processions—scenes that, more than a century later, remain unchanged.
Despite being one of the most famous pilgrimage sites in the world, very few fictional films have been shot at the sanctuary in the Pyrenees. A remarkable exception is Lourdes (2009), directed by Jessica Hausner. Filmed on location in a dry, documentary style, the film pays respectful tribute to a reality that could not be authentically recreated in a studio.
The protagonist, Christine, lives with multiple sclerosis and requires assistance for almost every task. After spending a few days in Lourdes, she appears to regain use of her limbs—what might be seen as a miracle. Neither a critique of mass tourism nor a celebration of miraculous faith, it is a respectful film that allows each viewer to bring their own interpretation. At the Venice Film Festival, it was recognized by both Catholic and atheist organizations.
In the more recent The Miracle Club, Lourdes is reconstructed in Ireland—and it shows, as does the predictability of the plot. It follows a group of women from Dublin who, in 1967, realize their dream of visiting Lourdes. They’re joined by an emigrant who has returned home after many years for her mother’s funeral. It’s no surprise that the journey becomes an opportunity for reconciliation and healing past wounds—but the real aim is to highlight the determination of Irish Catholic women.
The pilgrims in Vittorio De Sica’s The Gate of Heaven travel instead to the Shrine of Our Lady of Loreto. But the film was shot inside the Basilica of Saint Paul Outside the Walls in Rome, during the Nazi occupation. De Sica deliberately prolonged production for months to avoid relocating to the Republic of Salò, and he used the set to hide Jews and political refugees. Commissioned by the Catholic Cinema Center under the supervision of the future Pope Paul VI, the film follows a train journey of four people seeking miraculous healing: a young man and an older man in wheelchairs, a pianist who lost use of a hand, and a factory worker who has gone blind. No miraculous cures are offered, but each of them finds something just as valuable: renewed hope for the future.
The Camino de Santiago, leading to the cathedral said to hold the remains of the Apostle James, now attracts pilgrims of all kinds. Lydia B. Smith’s Walking the Camino: Six Ways to Santiago showcases this diversity—from young adventurers, to a mother and son with deep spiritual intentions, contrasted with her brother who treats the journey like a vacation. The interviewed clergy admit that the route has become more touristic, but they honor its religious origins, when hospitality in monasteries was an act of charity.
The Way is a well-known fictional take on the pilgrimage. Directed by Emilio Estevez and starring his father Martin Sheen, the film follows a man who completes the Camino to honor his late son, spreading his ashes along the way. Though his motivation isn’t religious, it’s deeply personal: the path transforms him, and the arrival at the cathedral becomes a moment of profound catharsis—for him and his fellow pilgrims.
In The Way, My Way, Bill Bennett reenacts his own pilgrimage from a decade ago, forging lasting connections with those he met—many of whom appear in the film playing themselves. Behind the inevitable question—“Why are you doing the Camino?”—lies a deeper search: curiosity gives way to the recognition of a transcendent force felt by many, if not all.
Looking beyond Christianity, Ismaël Ferroukhi’s Journey to Mecca—winner at the 61st Venice Film Festival—was the first fictional film shot in Mecca during the annual pilgrimage (Hajj). It tells the story of a devout elderly man and his reluctant son, who drives him across continents. Here too, the demanding journey becomes a catalyst for opening hearts that had long been closed to each other.
Werner Herzog, in his documentary Wheel of Time, centered on the Buddhist Kalachakra ceremony, also filmed a pilgrimage (Kora) to Mount Kailash in Tibet. His admiration is clear for the perseverance of pilgrims who, driven by deep faith, endure extreme conditions to walk around the sacred mountain—clockwise for Buddhists, counterclockwise for Bön practitioners—in the ritual of Kora. OL
