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The monks spend most of their days in their tiny cells, lost in prayer and solitude. Theirs are lives of unadorned simplicity. Having embraced a life of destitution and poverty, their living spaces are austere and spartan, ascetic shells devoid of any earthly distraction. A straw bed, a tiny tin stove and a desk are all that adorn their cell. They spend their days largely alone, only coming together for mass in the chapel and at the Sunday noon meal. When not cloistered in prayer, they wash their own clothes and dishes, prepare meals, garden, cut wood, read or engaging in chores. Even their nights are not their own. The monks do not sleep through one full night in their lives, waking for several hours in the middle of the night for collective prayer.

Sunday afternoons include walks and talks

Once a week, after the Sunday noon meal, the monks are allowed four hours of rest time in which they take a walk into the forests surrounding the monastery. During this time, they are allowed to freely talk amongst themselves. More often than not, the conversation still turns to issues of spirituality, faith, philosophy and the daily practice. On one snow-bound outing, these pillars of religious devotion devolve into schoolboys, using their flowing robes as makeshift sleds to careen down steep hillsides to the giggling delight of their brothers below.

Punctuating the film like chapter markers, Grö ning captures his subjects in close-up, pausing for long moments to allow the monks to look directly and often uncomfortably into the glass eye of their beholder. It is amazing how much individuality and personality these men have, despite the fact that we hear so few of them ever utter a word.

Some of Into Great Silence's most haunting moments occur when we are reminded of the unavoidable presence of modernity: a massive jetliner streaks silently through the sky, the abbot manages the monastery's finances on an old laptop computer, a novice practices his chants with the aid of a small, electronic keyboard. These moments jolt our senses, crack our reverie and remind us that this is a film and not a time portal into a world long past.

Groning captures his subjects in close-up

Into Great Silence is hypnotic, lulling the viewer into a trance. It is not a censure to say that at times you feel sleep tugging at the edges of your consciousness; the film is so serene and tranquil that it is a testament to the craft and subject matter. This is more meditation than movie—a mesmerizing, poetic chronicle of spirituality.

You are aware, while watching, of just how much you have and just how much you lack; of the omnipresence of the divine in the most mundane of activities; of the pervasive majesty of the natural world utterly squelched by our urban lives; of the inspiration these men arouse. To watch this film is to be humbled. To watch this film is to be in awe. Into Great Silence is a transformative theatrical experience, a spiritual encounter, an exercise in contemplation and introspection, a profound meditation on what it means to give oneself totally and completely, reserving nothing, to God.

I have never before experienced a greater example of utterly transcendent filmmaking.

And then the lights came up, and I shuffled out onto the street and was greeted by the angry din of Manhattan. It was almost enough to make me weep.

Brandon Fibbs, a film student at NYU, also blogs here and here. Click here to see the trailer for Into Great Silence, and here to find out if the film is coming to your town. Meanwhile, check out this interview with director Philip Grö ning conducted by Steven D. Greydanus, who also writes reviews for CT Movies.

© Brandon Fibbs 2006, subject to licensing agreement with Christianity Today International. All rights reserved. Click for reprint information.

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