Sixteen years after his initial request, German filmmaker Philip Groning was finally granted permission from the Carthusian monks to spend a few months filming the residents at the monks' Grand Chartruse monastery in the French Alps. The result is Into Great Silence, a nearly-three hour peek in to the austere, contemplative lives of these men of God. We look on as the monks go through their daily routines. Alone in his room, a monk kneels at prayer for a protracted moment, rises, bows, then kneels again to pray some more. In another room, a monk rolls out a bolt of white cloth and begins to measure and cut. One pushes a dinner cart down a hallway. Another pushes a laundry cart. In a great stone hall, a monk approaches a long rope hanging from the ceiling, grabs hold with two hands and pulls it downward. We hear the muffled sound of the bells ringing from the tower. One by one the monks assemble to chant the morning prayers.
These moments unfold in their own time, unhurried and unadorned by the filmmaker. The only light in the film is natural, and there is no voiceover or added soundtrack. The monks speak only rarely and even the chanted prayers are infrequent. What we get instead is an experience of the contemplative life, where every action becomes a meditation: chopping vegetables, mending a shoe, cutting hair, washing hands. In the absence of dialogue and background music, the emphasis is all on the actions, and these simple, everyday actions take on a grand significance and beauty. Simplicity is the theme here.
That being said, there is a great deal of art here, too. Groning has a superb eye for color and angles. In such a film, the cinematography is really the only way for the filmmaker to put his stamp on the film, but Groning's framing and editing serve to highlight the beauty that is already there, without trying to gild the lily or call attention to his own skill. Groning highlights the characters and their setting with style and grace, and without a hint of arrogance or art-for-art's-sake. Of course it helps that the large monastery with its gorgeous stone and wood interior is situated among jaw-droppingly stunning alpine meadows and peaks.
There is precious little interaction between the monks. We see them chant together a few times and eat together once (an apparently infrequent occasion), but that's pretty much it. They pass each other in the halls and rarely seem to make eye contact with each other. Clearly these guys are here to work and to pray, mostly the latter. A few moments of real contact stand out in contrast. We are on hand for the initiation of two newcomers. The novices, after confirming that they indeed realize what exactly they are signing up for, walk around the room from monk to monk, receiving an embrace from each and even a few nods and welcoming smiles. In another scene we see some of the more established monks off by themselvs on a balcony having an actual chat. The topic of discussion? Whether or not the hand-washing ritual before prayers should be maintained. In a scene of understated tenderness, a younger monk rubs lotion into the wrinkled skin of an elderly fellow monk. In another scene, we follow a small group of monks outside and watch them climb up a snowy hill and proceed to slide gleefully down the slope on snowshoes, bellies and backsides. It's a disarmingly funny scene, an unexpected break from the austerity of the monastery.
The religious aspect of the film cannot be denied. We never lose sight of the reason why these guys have chosen to live this way. Their lives are prayers to God, and Groning gives us periodic words from scripture to keep us on track when we get lost in the meditaion on light and shadow. These words are often followed by closeups of individual monks, standing before the camera, sometimes uneasily, for a few moments. When we look into the faces we see regular, ordinary men. We can only wonder at their personal stories and their inner thoughts. It's enough of a wonder, though, that men do live this way, and have for centuries. Such austerity and such devotion is ponderous indeed, and in the capable hands of Philip groning, it makes for a wonderfully fascinating, riveting movie. Nearly three hours and truly over too soon. Marvellous.
