A visually arresting film with an engaging narrative, Cabrini should come with a friendly warning, or perhaps a guarantee: You will be captivated, heart and soul, by this depiction of the life of one of the most significant women of the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

Born in northern Italy in 1850, Mother Frances Xavier Cabrini came to America in 1889 at the behest of Pope Leo XIII to help Italian immigrants, undertaking daunting missionary work usually reserved for male religious. Implementing her vision of the corporal and spiritual works of mercy, she used her fine intellect and iron will to build an “empire of hope” that began in New York City and soon spanned the globe. (She became a naturalized US citizen in 1909 and was canonized as the first American saint in 1946.)

More than just a cinematic biography, Cabrini not only brings this remarkable woman to life but also lifts viewers to a heightened moral awareness that leaves us asking what we can do today, in our own homes and communities, to alleviate the ills that permeate society. And it does this without preaching or overreaching—there is no easy miracle, no deus ex machina to set things right in the saint’s life and the world she inhabits. There is simply a woman of faith doing what she can, where she can, with the tools at her disposal, which prove to be in one way sufficient, but in truth never enough. At the end of the film, I found myself praying, “Mother Cabrini, what can I do to help?”

Growing up Catholic in New York City in the 1960s, I knew about Mother Cabrini from a statue that watched over my bed on family visits to my grandmother’s upstate home; from the Manhattan hospital she founded; from her image carved on the bronze doors of St. Patrick’s Cathedral (where I was baptized); and from the Sisters of Charity at my grammar school, who mentioned her mostly in telling us that their own community’s foundress, Elizabeth Ann Seton, would soon become an American saint like the foundress of the Missionary Sisters of the Sacred Heart of Jesus.

In the 1990s, when I worked for the diocesan paper Catholic New York, I mentioned to a priest that I was covering an event at the Cabrini shrine in Upper Manhattan. He informed me that the remains of the saint enclosed in glass under the altar were incomplete, adding, “Her body is here but her head is in Rome.” Then he shared a little ditty that New York priests of a certain era recited when seeking to park on crowded city streets: “Mother Cabrini, don’t be a meanie, find me a space for my machine-y.”

These remembrances sound trivial in light of this monumental film, but they indicate the close familiarity priests have with their parking patroness, as well as the ability of the Italian-raised saint to cross cultural lines and attract the attention of my Irish grandmother, who recognized Mother Cabrini as the Patroness of Immigrants.

Here’s another guarantee the film might make: Italian actress Cristiana Dell’Anna takes on the persona of Mother Cabrini with such artistic ease and heartfelt conviction that you will root for her against every obstacle—–human, material, monetary—and hold back a tear with every disappointment, even as her character moves ahead more determined than ever. Consider her signature line, declared before Pope Leo XIII, who observed that her poor health would not allow her to labor long overseas: “We can serve our weakness, or we can serve our purpose. Not both.” It’s a beautiful statement of the spirit, spoken sotto voce, after which the Holy Father urged her to abandon her China plans and go “West not East.”

There has been good-willed criticism of the film from Catholic influencers who say that the title character is not shown enough invoking God or the saints in prayer. Fair enough. While there are times of prayer in the movie, there are some other occasions when a prayer or look to heaven would have fit the scene well. Yet in a way, the whole film operates as a prayer, in the clothing, manner, and demeanor of Mother Cabrini and her religious sisters; in the architecture, religious symbols and sacramentals; and most of all in—if I may use the term—the sacred cinematography. The lighting, camera angles, and movement of the many characters constitute a liturgy through which the cohesive meaning and message of the film are expressed.

Indeed, I spent much time drafting the opening sentence of this review in an attempt to convey the depth of the cinematic experience. When I say the film is “visually arresting with an engaging narrative,” I mean that from the start viewers are invited to enter the story. With the persuasive spiritual strength of Mother Cabrini transcending the screen, we are bid not to remain mere spectators but rather to take a part and stake a claim for something greater through the loving, faithful, unwavering, and world-embracing vision of the saint. I am not much for movie-going, but I would well recommend Cabrini, which opens in theaters on March 8. Mother will be there to greet you and lift your drooping spirits, so tested by these challenging times. Guaranteed.