De dioses y hombres

The plot of this film can be summarised as: Christian monks live peacefully in Muslim country, political situation changes, monks have to decide whether to leave or to stay. Boring, you may say, nothing happens, you may say and, in one sense you'd be right. But..... The point about this film is not the plot. What this film acknowledges is that the real drama of human existence is internal, the real action in our lives takes place inside of us and the real journeys that we make are in our minds and our souls. This is a film about relationships, between different communities, between individual members of the same community, between individuals and God and between individuals and themselves. This is a film about identity and place - two things we all have in common, like it or not. Personally, I found the religious aspect of the film intriguing. We live in a world in which religion is, again, being used to justify momentous acts. An analysis of how that works and what it means has to be relevant. But even if you are not interested by this, or are, as I know many people are, turned off by the mention of the words "religion" or "God" what the film does is to allow it's audience to begin to look behind these literal concepts at how the spiritual (whatever that might mean to you) functions in our daily lives. So, 9/10. 10/10 is very tempting but the film is not perfect. It would probably be boring if it was and a very definite recommendation. Oh, and by the way, it has some beautiful scenery, some stunning and innovative cinematography and some crackingly good looking men.

I seem to fall between the two camps of critical reaction. The majority who feel this is a classic, great film, or a sizable minority who call the film boring, historically inaccurate, and all surface.

I find myself agreeing with some points made by the critics, e.g., being bothered that the film never really examines how hated the French were for their earlier colonialism. That larger context is part of what makes these Brothers targets. One passing mention is hardly enough to deal with a huge element of the underpinnings of the story.

You could use it to make the Brothers seem even more brave and to more deeply understand that they took a risk to reach out and just be there even before things get 'bad', and/or to make the hatred they faced from the terrorists and the Army not just seem random.

To be clear, that hatred is unforgivable. But understanding how something happened, or why your enemy hates you doesn't equal forgiving terrorism. But is part of the path to peace. And it is something these wise, well read monks would have known about and must have been part of their thoughts and discussions, though its largely avoided here.

I also agree that the film is slow in parts, sometimes needed to establish the rhythm of the monks' lives, but other times getting repetitive with no seeming advantage.

In addition, besides the two main characters, the other monks are largely one-note sketches, and the sudden turn around of those who wanted to leave – maybe the most fascinating action in the film - is largely under explored, Some of the time spent used on repeated rituals or re-tread conversations could have been used to deepen the understanding of those men and their heartrending confusion.

It also bothered me that those who wanted to leave are never given the strong or convincing arguments they easily could have. They're almost made to seem cowardly, or 'wrong'. The film could have gone further in it's compassion towards these men, and understanding that this was a complex decision, even on a theological level. When does God want us to martyr ourselves and when would God rather we not sacrifice the gift of life to find a way to live to fight another day? I can think of a number of third choices between surrender and simply running away. These men must have examined those options, but there is little sign of it here. I have no problem with the film's conclusion, but I wish it had felt both sides presented with equal weight and seriousness, as I assume must have happened among the real monks.

But my biggest problem is that the film's style, while inviting thought, is somewhat emotionally distancing, so while my brain was deeply engaged, my heart was less than I wish it was. I wanted to weep for these men and for the world, but I found myself more caught in mind than in emotions. I believe the story was strong enough to carry both.

Now, all that said, I still think, unlike many of the professional critics that raised these points, that this is a very, very good film, made with intelligence and passion. It is visually simple but stunning to look at. Its slow pace adds to the meditative, un-Hollywood feel that eschews inflating drama for its own sake, and allows us a taste of the peace these men experience by living in their simple, giving way, even in the midst of war. And there are scenes of sheer brilliance, where whole stories are told on peoples' faces with little or no dialogue. Scenes where a combination of photography and acting capture a huge range of complex emotions. We watch fear, joy, transcendence, defeat, and loss run through the hearts of these men within seconds of each other without a word needing to be said, That is film-making of a high order.

Ultimately, this is a film that deserves and needs to be seen. A plea for peace and courage in the face of hatred. But that doesn't mean it isn't a flawed work, or that acknowledging those flaws dismisses those very good things the film does accomplish.

As Vivekananda has said, "The intensest love that humanity has ever known has come from religion, and the most diabolical hatred that humanity has known has come from religion." Both of these elements are present in Xavier Beauvois Of Gods and Men, the story of seven Roman Catholic French Trappist monks kidnapped by radical Islamists from their monastery in the village of Tibhirine in Algeria during the 1990s Algerian Civil War. The film depicts the sacrifices people of good will in both religions are willing to make for each other, and that the separation between religions is not an unbridgeable gap.

Winner of the Grand Prix at the 2010 Cannes Film Festival, Of Gods and Men stars Lambert Wilson as Christian, Prior of the monks, and 79-year-old Michael Lonsdale as a world weary medic who treats up to 150 Moslem villagers each day. The film derives its title from the Book of Psalms, Psalm 82:6-7 quoted at the beginning of the film: "I have said, Ye are gods; and all of you are children of the most High. But ye shall die like men, and fall like one of the princes." Filmed in Morocco, the film shows the daily life of the Trappist monks before the terrorist threat becomes real.

Though a large part of their day consists of contemplation and devotion, living in close contact with the Muslim population allows them to interact with them in a positive way, healing the sick, selling honey in the nearby markets, and caring for the aged. In addition, daily chores such as cooking, gardening, loading wood for the fireplace, and cleaning take up a large part of the day. Soon word gets around about the murder of European workers on a construction site by the terrorists and the monks recoil in horror when they learn about the stabbing of a woman riding on a bus by Islamic fundamentalists simply because she was not wearing a veil.

The Algerian government asks the monks to leave for their own safety but Christian tells them that their calling is to serve the people of the community and he insists on remaining, though he is willing to let the other monks decide. The issue becomes suddenly more immediate when a group of fundamentalists show up at the monastery on Christmas Eve demanding medicine for their wounded colleagues. Though the request is refused, Christian quotes the Koran to their spokesman Ali Fayattia (Farid Larbi) and they end up shaking hands, though the Prior senses rightly that they will be back.

When all agree that they will not abandon the monastery even at the risk of death, the dramatic high point of the film is reached when the monks recreate the Last Supper by sitting around a small table drinking wine and listening to a recording of Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake ballet. As the camera pans from face to face, we can observe a beatific smile on some faces and tears on others, demonstrating an inner poetry and reverence for life. The monks are not Christian moralists but spiritualists confronting the extremes of the human condition, characters who point the way to overcoming despair.

The monks, like the Curé de Torcy in Bernanos' Diary of a Country Priest, love poverty "with a deep, reasoned, lucid love as equal loves equal", expressing the eternal struggle of the spirit to know Christ and to come to terms with his anguish. The heroes of the film are not saints. They are flesh and blood human beings, full of ambiguity and fear, but never far from compassion and humility, willing to offer us the possibility of a world transformed by grace.

Chris Morris's debut Four Lions (2010) found fame in it's irreverent portrayal of Islamic fundamentalism in Yorkshire: the headlines that accompanied Brass Eye (1997-2001) successfully carried on into a low-key marketing campaign in that debut feature. Beauvois' film isn't so much a farcical account of the spiralling contradictions of religious extremism. But it does share its preoccupation with exactly how far one, or rather a small community, can go to devote themselves to their beliefs.

The film is located in the 1996 Algerian Civil War, and tells the true story of a monastery under threat from the Armed Islamic Group of Algeria (GIA). Dom. Christian (Lambert Wilson) takes it upon himself to express their intentions to ignore the threats, and continue their mission of goodwill. This is disputed by the group throughout, whose dilemma forces some of them to question their allegiance to God, and jeopardise their own health (as with the outstanding Michael Lonsdale's, Luc). Coping with the sacrifices involved in such an all-consuming faith is key to the themes here ("We're not here for martyrdom" reminds Christian), and it's difficult to recall a more delicate, understated study. An excellent example of Beauvois' achievement, both visually and performance-wise, is the kiss Luc places on the mural of Christ. Moments like this underline the dependency they all share on one thing alone: their religion. It looms over them, both haunting and cradling them throughout, like the vast, unspoiled skylines which constantly diminish them beneath - Caroline Champetier's cinematography is key to the affect created.

Tranquil moments like Luc's, where the viewer is allowed in such close, personal space, are almost unsettling in the access that's granted. The beauty achieved in these meditative scenes is all the more striking as we're reminded that these men are nearing the end of their lives. Death is always present – from direct representation (as with the brutal throat-slitting of the Croat workers) to the indirect (the technique of cutting from the most tranquil scene to the loudest, most destructive scene).

The film is an anti-thriller in its treatment of fear and terror - the key moment occurs before the half-way point, and the viewer is left fearing for a reprisal for the duration. Beauvois' alternative narrative, featuring a fairly clear split down the middle, also featured in his previous Don't Forget You're Going to Die (1995) and To Mathieu (2000). Similarly, more recently, Mia Hansen-Love's Father of My Children (2010) involved a number of characters picking up the pieces in the wake of death. French colonialism in Algeria is only once directly attacked, when the police chief demands they leave. However, when viewed in a similar light to, say, Hidden (Cache, Michael Haneke, 2005), the occupation these men choose, the service they provided, the sacrifice they made, could too, easily be forgotten. So while the terrorism fears, today shared globally, are a focal point, a narrative of this kind reminds one not to forget the horrors of the past.

Of Gods and Men is testament to a thriving New French Cinema. Thought-provoking, rich in content both (formally and thematically), it's difficult to find fault with a film that so meticulously justifies its choices: the landscape is artwork, the tone is perfect, and the performances are achingly affective throughout.

The other day I watched the film Compliance, which tells a true story in the form of a drama. I didn't find much in the film and wondered why it added nothing to the events other than showing them. I mention this because the opposite is true with Of Gods and Men. Here we have a true story told but done in a way that adds to the characters, engages the viewer and has room for thought. The priests of the story struggle with whether or not to leave their monastery in Algeria once it becomes very dangerous due to the actions of fundamentalists in the region. This is the majority of the film in a nutshell and as such it is perhaps not a film that could stand a mass audience.

I don't say this in a condescending way, but just that the film is probably too slow for the casual viewer – not that others "won't get it" or any such nonsense as that. I liked the film but even for me there were times where it lingered too long or spent too long showing us certain aspects of life in the monastery. It did feel longer than 2 hours and I think this is mostly down to the fact that the whole film has a very slow pace and very gentle delivery. The upside of this is that it does have more emotional impact as a result – because the characters are clearer, we understand their minds and I enjoyed that I was able to see their struggle and also understand the reasons for their decisions because I had seen the role they played.

The film matches the slow pace with some beautiful shots; visually it is a very still film and it does feel at times that it is like a great painting, with the use of light and atmosphere. The performances are where the film delivers best though. Everyone is strong and seems to have understood their characters very well because they are convincing and engaging. The ballet music meal towards the end of the film is the best example but there are plenty of equally strong and expressive moments throughout.

It is a slow film and even though I liked it, I did still struggle with the glacial pace at times. It rewards and satisfies at the same time, but a few times you do need to stick with it while it unfolds slowly.