Of Gods and Men

Monday 3rd Jan 2011
Screen 2, Curzon Mayfair

I'm not ashamed to say I went along to this film purely on the strength of it's reviews and prominence in many a critics best of 2010 list. I'd never seen any of Xavier Beauvois films before, neither was I aware of the real-life story of the monks depicted in the film. Thus having read the numerous readings, both political and religious, critics have  taken from the film I am all too glad this was the case.

Beautifully shot, profoundly and immaculately acted 'Of Gods and Men' is a poised, calculated, yet deeply moving film that shines a light on the religious and colonial divides of a community under threat from a new wave of Islamic fundamentalism. Many critics have accused the film of displaying a profoundly anti-religous or pro-Christian message. However whilst the local muhajadeen and to less transparent effect the Algerian army are no doubt painted as the villains to the holy white-gowned monks, the overriding feeling is one empathy and compassion with those unwillingly caught up within these tragic circumstances. These being not only the tight-knit brotherhood of the monks but the local community in which they live within. Up until the arrival of Islamic militants, this is a community portrayed in the early sequences as a harmonious and unified group, a unity perhaps most clearly signified through doctor Luc's counselling and medical treatment of the local villagers.

The film maintains an intriguing and dignified pace throughout with Beauvois expertly juxtaposing the unhurried and hushed lives of the monks with that of the chaos and violence unravelling in the surrounding villages. It's this violence that, as much as we hope not, we as the audience know will at some point come crashing through the doors of the monks holy place of worship. The tension between the two extremes is perhaps best illustrated in the stunning sequence in which a military helicopter circles the monastery whilst the monks pray in unison together, arms linked and eyes closed. It's sequences where Beauvois direction is at it's most poignant, thus when the senior monks reveal to the local muslim elders that amongst the group debate is in motion as to whether to flee or not, the analogy is made that the monks are like birds on the edge of branches unsure whether to fly or not to which a female villager replies 'you are our branches without you we have nothing to stand upon'. Read out on the page the line appears overly melancholic and forthright but when delivered with such emotion and poised anguish it strikes an significant cord with the audience and resonates the unfortunate situation the villagers find themselves in.

Then comes the final sequence before the inevitable kidnap ensues, where the monks sit around the table, sharing red wine as Tchaikovsky's Grand Theme from Swan Lake bellows out of an old cassette tape player. The camera pans across the table focussing upon their worn, contrasting expressions some smiling, some nearer to tears. Not a word is spoken and it need not be, they are all resigned to their fate. They have stuck by their faith, have maintained their principles but what they know and adore, their lives in Algeria is about to be unduly taken away from them. To accuse this scene of being overdone, overly dramatic and the use of Tchaikovsky as far from subtle is an understandable reading. However I defy even the most cynical of viewer to witness this sequence and to focus upon the eldest looking of monks, who as luck would have it is the sole survivor of the kidnapping. As the camera cuts to a stark close up of him, his eyes fill to the brim just as that famous classical piece is reaching it's climax. It's a true 'lump in the throat' moment if there ever was one. Overall a stunning, stunning piece that will no doubt be a hot favourite for the  Acedemy Awards Foreign language award, and rightly so.
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