“May we meet again, happy thieves in Paradise, if it pleases God the Father of us both. Amen. Insha’Allah.” – Christian
One of many memorable lines from Of Gods and Men, a deeply spiritual film directed and written by Xavier Beauvois. Set in 1996, the film is the true story of the lives of eight French Cistercian Trappist monks living a relatively peaceful, self-sufficient life in a predominantly Muslim village in the remote hills of Algeria; as violence and civil war continue to spread across the country, the villagers and the monks themselves are targeted by a radical Islamist faction, who demand that they leave the country, or face the threat of execution. Led by Brother Christian, each man has to choose whether to stay or to leave the monastery, as the threat of almost certain death draws ever closer; once decided, tensions mount as the brothers begin to question their own faith and their own reasons for staying.
Of Gods and Men – nominated for BAFTAs and the Palme D’or – was a surprise hit in France during the Autumn of 2010, topping the box office top spot for 4 consecutive weeks and selling over 3 million tickets during its four-month stay in cinemas. At first glance, it may seem heavy fare for the mainstream, but the story of the Tiribhine monks sent shockwaves through France and Algeria at the time, and their cultural significance was not forgotten in the fourteen years that since passed.
Of Gods and Men is written by someone with a deep passion for wanting to understand not just faith, but the politics of religious zealotry and the love of those – willingly or unwillingly so – find themselves in the eye of the tornado. It is fair to say that the universal themes of religion, faith and heroism lie central to the films’ content; Brother Christian (played by Lambert Wilson), the monks leader and pastor, plays a crucial role as the elected voice of the monastery. As Brother Luc, the absolutely lovable village priest and doctor, Michael Lonsdale gives the performance of a lifetime and cannot be missed. Early scenes (especially those involving Brother Luc) show the quiet dedication and commitment not only to one another but to the villagers and everyone around them.
Whilst on the surface it could be misconstrued as rudimentary religious propaganda – Catholicism vs Islamism or something to that effect – the true heart of the movie lies only just below; the performance of Lambert Wilson as Brother Christian is very telling in this regard, and in his role of leader, is serious, understated, conflicted, heroic and suitably restrained throughout; very much representative of the film itself. It’s also beautifully shot – and pauses regularly for brief reflection and contemplation on the incredibly varied countryside; perhaps asking, ‘is Algeria the country of God, Allah, or the beloved country of men?’ Whilst we are only really shown the story from one ‘side’, the director is careful not to condemn or caricature the rest of the films players – militants, villagers, extremists and leaders alike – and so the answer to this is suitably ambiguous.
I feel I cannot quite complete the review without mention of an astonishing scene involving all of the monks, set to music from Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake; to give more detail so would be to spoil the movie and that of course is not the intention; I will simply say that in the context of this particular film, it is one of the more wistful, heart-wrenching and transcendental cinematic moments likely to be experienced in modern cinema.
With a subtly understated style and passion for its subject matter, Of Gods and Men is a slow-burning, intimate portrait of religion and devotion, set to the backdrop of bloody civil war in post-colonial Algeria; it commands attention with captivating performances from its ensemble cast, whilst quietly asking deep philosophical questions of its audience; finally building towards its inevitable, undeniably moving conclusion.
Deryn O’Sullivan (@silverscene_)
Deryn Paul O'Sullivan 