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Rating:
And then they say that those anonymous summaries, stuck on the walls to ease the wait in line, are useless. I walked in determined, almost sure, to spend two adrenaline-filled, and probably predictable, hours, letting myself go with the gripping plot of the spy story “Fair Game”. The unexpected flow of those 15 lines made me change my mind; right in front of the cashier. It's my turn now. Men of God, I say. Once inside, I look around in the dark of the room: a young deer among a sparse group of old stags.
I know only a few words in French, but if I'm not mistaken, the correct translation of "Des Hommes et Des Deux" shouldn’t be “Men of God” but “Men and Gods“. The first combines the two words, the second distinguishes them. And that's not a small thing.
I'll tell you right away to dispel any doubt and why not, to intrigue you as well. 5 stars.
A film of rare intensity and strength. Positively surprising is the absence of rhetoric in dealing with a theme which, on the contrary, would have lent itself well to strokes of honey and resounding violins. Do not think, however, that it is a relaxing viewing: on the contrary, it is very demanding for a film that is overall slow, full of silence and austerity. We are not in the presence of a kind of “The Great Silence”, but it is a viewing that must nonetheless be weighed to avoid two hours of ordeal.
The setting of the feature film unfolds in a remote monastery in Algeria inhabited by eight French monks. Catholic and Islamic religion coexist harmoniously in a village made up of a handful of quiet inhabitants. The camera enters this place of worship where life is slow: made of fields to plow, wood to gather and then burn, honey and farm products to sell at the market, prayers, Gregorian chants, scripture studies, and medical visits and care for the sick. Balance.
A situation of calm and apparent harmony that becomes progressively more unstable with the approach of fundamentalist rebels. When they come near the monastery, it is a strong wind that shakes the religious community. The crisis of faith gripping some of them is wonderfully rendered, mixing courage and fear among the monks unsure of what to do. It is pleasing that the protagonists have not been painted as heroes, but on the contrary, as ordinary people who, in the face of danger, show themselves to be fragile, bewildered, fearful, and hesitant. In a word, human.
There are several memorable scenes. As I said before, there are many silences, and I don't think it's a coincidence that the two I want to describe to you before closing are almost mute.
The melody of Swan Lake. Notes that, if you have never listened to, I strongly recommend you make your own. Music capable of representing, better than a monologue by the best Al Pacino, the conflicted states of mind of the protagonists. On their faces, an extraordinary expressiveness as the camera slowly pans, bouncing among the wrinkles, following the continuous crescendos and slowdowns of the score.
The snow falls, making the landscape of snow-covered palms almost surreal. A long line trudges, constantly stumbling in the unusual blanket covering the hill. The heterogeneous line progressively disappears into the fog. Without any rhetoric, as the shot stops, it vanishes, leaving space for the end credits.
Among the actors, Father Luc (Michael Lonsdale) stands out, but as a whole, it is a valuable cast capable of interpreting a true story from the recent past. Xavier Beauvois has brought to light a film capable of offering numerous points of reflection and images destined to remain over time.
A difficult and bitter work highly recommended.
ilfreddo
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