Of gods and men

There must be significance in the English translation of the French docudrama, Des hommes et des dieux. Why entitle it, in reverse order, Of Gods and Men? Do the rules of polite English-speaking movie-going society demand that gods must precede mortals? Maybe the rules of France, as an officially secular society, ordain the opposite?

This is not totally idle musing. The reality-based story of seven Trappist monks abducted and killed in 1996 during the Algerian civil war asks why the men chose to stay in their stark Atlas Mountains monastery, beside an impoverished Muslim community. Why stay, dispensing medicine, advice and prayers, rather than escape likely slaughter by encroaching fundamentalists who'd already massacred a Croat highway construction team nearby?

For such a simple and soul-searching narrative, the production had no choice but to proceed as slowly, quietly and thoughtfully as the monk's lives. It won the 2010 Cannes second prize (Grand Prix), losing out to Thailand's tedious cult fantasy (Uncle Boonmee). Clearly, there was no other "serious" competition at Cannes that year for cultists to appreciate, and the French entry may have been viewed by the judges as not tedious enough to deserve first prize.

The film did win three French 2011 Cesar awards: Best Film, supporting actor (veteran Michael Lonsdale, born 1931) and cinematography (Caroline Champetier, who'd worked for Beauvois on his award-winning Le Petit Lieutenant in 2005). Beauvois had won the Cannes Jury Prize in 1995, for Don't Forget You're Going to Die, and collected many awards for his debut feature, Nord (1991), which might explain why the 2011 Cesar voters apparently felt that Roman Polanski deserved the Best Director award more for The Ghost Writer. (I haven't yet seen a reason why that German-funded British political thriller set in Martha's Vineyard was given a slew of Cesar nominations. Surely not just because Polanski was born in Paris?)

Of Gods and Men ends up, after two hours, being half-an-hour too long, mainly because the screenplay runs out of ways to show the human natures and godly hearts of the ageing monks. They elected a scholarly, Koran-reading high-principled monk as their leader (Lambert Wilson) and he's remarkably quick to learn that the other men's views must be considered before he can decide whether or not the Algerian army should be allowed to occupy and protect their monastery. Later on they all consider the options of leaving, or staying with their "flock" of Muslim villagers.

At the end there's an almost credible unanimous decision to stay, and a very incredible "last supper" for which doctor-monk Lonsdale brings out two bottles of red wine and a cassette tape of Swan Lake. Maybe there was such a meal (two of the nine monks present did survive and may have told their tales), and maybe they did all exchange wordless happy smiles and teary eyes, but few directors would dare to spend so long focusing on weepy ageing men's faces.

When they are abducted, along with the medical supplies the rebels need, and led through a snowy forest into the distance and a slow fade, their fate is still not clear, forcing the end credits to begin with the news of their killing. Prior to that there have been politically and religiously correct monologues and conversations to suggest that not all rebels were murderous zealots, that Islam can be loving and inclusive, that monks desire to go to heaven and meet their god, and a few more Religion 101 thoughts.

By comparison, a Thai director's Buddhist-based fantasies must have looked excitingly special to the Cannes jury. In the real world, though, Of Gods and Men was a box-office triumph in France and a very profitable old-fashioned movie, costing 4 million Euros and grossing six times more.