Of Gods and Men (loosely) tells the tragic true story of the French Trappist monks of the monastery of Tibhirine in Algeria, who were kidnapped by Islamic terrorists and killed either intentionally by them, or accidentally by the Algerian army in a rescue attempt.
In the midst of a civil war the monks are wise enough to know they are potential victims, and spend the little time they have deciding whether they should continue serving their mainly Muslim flock or leave. We see their vacillating attitudes as they question the morality of their role and the strength of their spirituality.
Lambert Wilson and screen veteran Michael Lonsdale (particularly brilliant here) have prominent roles; Wilson as the scholarly leader, Christian, and Lonsdale as Luc, a man imbued with a lifetime's supply of philosophy, not all of it religious.
I've seen many films where the pace has been deliberately slow. Sometimes the effect is soporific, but here it couldn't have worked any other way (though the esteemed film critic Pauline Kael would have called this film 'offensively holy'). We need to get used to the Spartan life of these monks so that the terrorist threat, when it comes, is suitably shocking.
Many who have reviewed this film have singled out, with easy justification, the last supper scene. What makes the scene so breathtakingly cathartic for the monks (and maybe for the audience, too) is that its peculiarity destroys its predictability. They eat in silence while Swan Lake plays in the background, allowing their silent interactions to express an eternity of emotion. It has the power to rival the comparable scene in 'The Shawshank Redemption'.
What's interesting about this film is that, while the central theme is thick with religion, there are other themes as stimulating. There is a debate to be had about the political points the film conjures in respect of colonisation and the feasibility of East/West cohabitation. For those interested in theology, there is piquant dialogue on the worth of religion and the interpretation of ethics.
Faith is presented here as both the force which gives the monks the courage to stay in their monastery, and the thing which ultimately sends them to their deaths. If you don't make the mistake of concentrating too much on the religious element you might find this a rewarding experience.
www.scottishreview.net
In the midst of a civil war the monks are wise enough to know they are potential victims, and spend the little time they have deciding whether they should continue serving their mainly Muslim flock or leave. We see their vacillating attitudes as they question the morality of their role and the strength of their spirituality.
Lambert Wilson and screen veteran Michael Lonsdale (particularly brilliant here) have prominent roles; Wilson as the scholarly leader, Christian, and Lonsdale as Luc, a man imbued with a lifetime's supply of philosophy, not all of it religious.
I've seen many films where the pace has been deliberately slow. Sometimes the effect is soporific, but here it couldn't have worked any other way (though the esteemed film critic Pauline Kael would have called this film 'offensively holy'). We need to get used to the Spartan life of these monks so that the terrorist threat, when it comes, is suitably shocking.
Many who have reviewed this film have singled out, with easy justification, the last supper scene. What makes the scene so breathtakingly cathartic for the monks (and maybe for the audience, too) is that its peculiarity destroys its predictability. They eat in silence while Swan Lake plays in the background, allowing their silent interactions to express an eternity of emotion. It has the power to rival the comparable scene in 'The Shawshank Redemption'.
What's interesting about this film is that, while the central theme is thick with religion, there are other themes as stimulating. There is a debate to be had about the political points the film conjures in respect of colonisation and the feasibility of East/West cohabitation. For those interested in theology, there is piquant dialogue on the worth of religion and the interpretation of ethics.
Faith is presented here as both the force which gives the monks the courage to stay in their monastery, and the thing which ultimately sends them to their deaths. If you don't make the mistake of concentrating too much on the religious element you might find this a rewarding experience.
www.scottishreview.net