Of Gods and 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.

In 1996, in Algeria, eight French monks of The Monastery Notre-Dame de l'Atlas of Tibhirine have a simple life serving the poor community that was raised around the monastery. During the Algerian Civil War, they are threatened by terrorist but they decide to stay in the country and not return to France.

One night, the extremists break in the monastery and abduct seven monks. A couple of months later, they are found dead in controversial circumstances.

"Des hommes et des dieux" is a film based on a true story and supported by top-notch performances. The official and non-official versions of the death of the Tibhirine priests can be found in Internet. My vote is seven.

Title (Brazil): "Homens e Deuses" ("Men and Gods")

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.

At the strong recommendation of the panel of 'Le Masque et La Plume' I went to see this film.

I was struck by, as others have said here, the fraternity that existed between the priests. I thought the most interesting aspect of the film was the relationship between the priests. At times you can feel the tension because of the strong decision they had to make. Also it being 7-8 men living together it was interesting to see the different personalities in a group environment; you have the natural leader, the introverted, the brave, the scared etc.etc.

I imagine like most people who've seen this film the performance by Wilson Lambert was very touching. He was totally believable as the cloister's leader.

Unfortunately the church is undergoing a very hard time in regards mostly to child abuse, it's nice to have a reminder of the positive aspects. I myself went to a catholic school with some Brothers and a monastery on campus. I have a very positive image.

Particular favourite scenes are when they prepare and sell the honey at market and of course when they listen to Swan Lake and enjoy a glass of wine.

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.