The Monk (Le Moine)

THE MONK (Le Moine)         D  
France  Spain  (101 mi)  2011  ‘Scope  d:  Dominik Moll             Official site [es]

An unbelievably morbid, dreary, and gloomy picture that seems to think no one has ever seen Luis Buñuel’s Simon of the Desert (Simón del Desierto) (1965), a much better,  near perfect, and utterly hilarious version of an agonizing ascetic, loosely based on the actual life of Simeon Stylites, who reportedly spent 37 years on a tower during the 5th century, the picture of saintly piety, denying himself all earthly pleasures, though he is challenged by the Devil in various disguises, Sylvia Pinal as a sexual temptress urging Simon to come down from his lonely wooden tower.  What Buñuel does in 45 minutes is a sheer delight compared to this pretentious and overly pompous waste of time, a film that, despite its surrealist attempts, couldn’t be more dramatically dull and predictable.  Despite a rather listless performance from Vincent Cassel as the title character in the 16th century, a young priest who is all too easily led astray, the overly somber mood literally sucks all the life out of the picture, drowning the film in its own seriousness and self-pity.  While it’s not completely without a few memorable moments, they never elevate the material out of the deeply ingrained atmosphere of doom that saturates the overall mood of the film.  This is something that would be better served by Mel Brooks in the era of Madeline Kahn and YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN (1974) or even DE DUVA (1968) Madeline Kahn - DE DUVA (The Dove) - 1968 Funny! - YouTube (14:03), where a little outrageous humor is needed.  Instead we get overly dark images of the cloistered life of the priesthood, where Cassel as a baby is left at the doorstep of a monastery with a diabolical crow picking at its diaper before he’s discovered by a Franciscan monk.  Over time, he joins the order of the Capucin Friars that raised him, becoming a local legend, a beloved priest whose energizing sermons fill the church with onlookers and curious admirers who come from miles around to hear him preach, where in his steadfast devotion and goodness he seems touched by the hand of the Lord.

Based on Matthew G. Lewis's 18th Century novel, Ambrosio (Cassel) defends himself from criticism by the devoutness of his commitment to Christ, where those that stray can only blame themselves, in his view, as “Satan only has the power we give him.”  An early sexually explicit confession by an admitted child molester known only as Le Débauché (Sergi López) over the opening credits seems to test his worldliness, as he’s largely been educated with books in a protected and cloistered environment, having no understanding of the goings on in the real world, yet he’s called upon to pass judgment and holy penitence on the lives of ordinary people.  Early on his goodness is challenged when he condemns a young nun for the crime of pregnancy, where she dies starving in prison, blaming him for her fate, sending an ominous signal to the parishioners.  Suddenly the floodgates of damnation open their gates and through the temptation of Satan, the young priest is finally tested by the acts of a young sexual temptress that he initially rebuffs, but a near fatal insect bite changes all that, where as she stands watch over him, she makes her move after all the others finally leave her alone at his bedside, an unthinkable act in itself.  Using an experimental montage of multiple videos mixed together, suggesting a subconscious, dream-like state, she has her way sexually with the young monk while he’s in a state of delirium, an act that he only recalls in his subconscious.  From that point on, there are continual surrealist gestures to show how the shape-shifting Satan can assume the form of anyone or anything in order to bring about the damnation of one’s soul.  The one interesting sequence is a candlelit religious procession with candles placed atop men’s heads, dripping candle wax down their cheeks, where suffering pain has always been associated with spiritual belief, where the more pain you can endure, the closer you are to God, a belief that is not only Christian, where to this day, despite strong condemnation from the Catholic church, devotees in Mexico and the Philippines have been known to re-enact the crucifixion ceremony driving nails into the hands ( Warning: Raw Video: Philippine Crucifixion Re-enactment - YouTube 1:21), but also Hindu religious piercings where cheeks and other body parts are pierced by metal rods and needles as an expression of religious devotion.   

The use of light is a conscious contrast, as the cloistered life inside the confines of the church remains excessively dark, where it appears only natural light is used, with a flood of images showing hooded monks quietly walking through the darkened corridors.  Once outside, however, the brightness of the sun reveals a scorched earth outside, where the desert grounds are baked in the hot sun.  The biggest disappointment of the film is the toxic atmosphere of utter indifference that permeates the entire film, as if living in the darkness chokes away the spirit of life, where there’s simply no dramatic interest, especially when it veers into the realms of a horror film.  When we see the image of a man living among the pigs, perhaps an example of Satan lurking in their midst, he’s completely ignored by everyone passing by, making no attempt whatsoever to connect this strangeness to anything, as if this is a common everyday occurrence.  When no one remarks or says anything, the incident is ignored, a perfect example of the lethargy existing within the film itself, where if the characters don’t care, why should the audience?  This deflation of interest literally destroys whatever connection might otherwise be made by viewers, as every single character takes themselves so seriously, reflected through a shrouded layer of darkness, overly somber moods, the same religious music that repeats itself throughout, where after awhile one gets sick of this dreary, one-note presentation.  There’s none of the usual cleverness from this director, where you’d think with some surrealist imagery and Satan (Sergi López) eventually showing himself to the young monk, using against him the exact same words from his sermon, which have a completely different connotation on the other side of the pulpit, that there would be some shred of interest, but incredibly there’s not, largely due to the film’s own detachment and aloofness, where by the end, nothing really matters anymore.  Much of this film is so over the top it’s laughable and is a major bust.   

2012 Top Ten Films of the Year: #2 Post Tenebras Lux

POST TENEBRAS LUX         A                    

Mexico  France  Germany  (120 mi)  d:  Carlos Reygadas 

Pierre had learned, not with his mind, but with his whole being, his life, that man is created for happiness, that happiness is within him, in the satisfying of natural human needs, and that all unhappiness comes not from lack, but from superfluity.

—War and Peace, by Leo Tolstoy, 1869, quoted at a dinner party by Juan (Adolfo Jiménez Castro)

Carlos Reygadas makes challenging art films that play in film festivals, where you can count on extreme visualization and an austerity of form, where in this film he nearly disregards narrative altogether, feeling very much like a Godless Bruno Dumont film, as he examines many of the same themes evoked from the title, “After the darkness, light.”  Impressively shot by Alexis Zabé, for the first time not on ‘Scope, strangely using a boxed 1:37 aspect ratio with refracted images on each side of the screen which has a dizzying way of expressing shadow images that suggest an everpresent duality of meaning.  Told out of sequence, as if that hardly matters, suggesting it’s the overall whole that matters, not each individually selected piece, the film does suggest a good and evil scenario, also God, the Devil, and redemption, class differences, also crime and punishment, where once again nature is viewed at its most thunderous best, literally overpowering the people that populate this film.  While there are likely moral and spiritual messages, they tend to get lost in the random order in which this film is told, where perhaps they are the hardest for each individual to discover in their own lives as well.  While this may be the most challenging film of the year, many are instead taking the easy route, suggesting it is so incomprehensible that the odor of pretentiousness defines this picture.  One must understand that similar charges were weighed against Andrei Tarkovsky’s THE MIRROR (1975), for instance, yet many now think this may be one of Tarkovsky’s most hauntingly beautiful films.  There is a dramatic, Dumont-like scene near the end that takes place in an open field, where the aftermath of rainfall can only be attributed to Tarkovsky, offering a baptismal-like cleansing that evokes John the Baptist, as if this mythical undertaking might wipe away the sins of the world.     

The experience of viewing a film like this is certainly unlike that of seeing other movies, where in a similar manner of say Yasujirô Ozu, the director forces the viewer to alter their perception of what they’re seeing onscreen simply by the way he chooses to express it, where in Ozu’s case he uses a fixed point of reference where he’s simply observing life as it is, while with Tarkovsky or Dreyer, cinema is a means that transcends human limitations, like music, literature, or great art.  Even before the viewer sets foot inside the theater, they know a Reygadas film will be visually spectacular, where nature manifests itself in a glorious, Edenesque simplicity, while also exploring the pathetic interior failings of mankind, pitting spiritual themes against the existential crises of men.  Described as a semi-autobiographical film where reason barely intrudes, Reygadas has suggested this film is “like an expressionist painting where you try to express what you're feeling through the painting rather than depict what something looks like,” supposedly shot in Mexico, Spain, Belgium, and Britain, all places where Reygadas has lived, which might help explain the final shot of the film, which otherwise seems quite random, though the director played rugby for the Mexican national team.  With this in mind, it may be useful to view this as one might an experimental film, perhaps even a video installation, where you’re not so much interested in what’s going on at any given moment as the effect it’s having internally as you experience it.  All Reygadas films have premiered at Cannes, where his first film JAPÓN (2002) won the Caméra D’Or award for the best first feature, SILENT LIGHT (2007) won the Jury Prize (3rd place), while for POST TENEBRAS LUX, Reygadas was awarded the Best Director at Cannes in 2012.

The opening of this film is as powerful as anything seen this year, where a small girl (the director’s daughter Rut) is wandering around a waterlogged open soccer field pointing out various animals like dogs, cows, and horses, while thunder and lightning flash across the sky, as man and nature commingle, but the most prominent effect is the incessant sound of dogs barking.  A supernatural element follows, something along the lines of what we might come to expect in a Weerasethakul film, before a realist, more recognizable family scene reveals Rut is the younger sister to Eleazar (the director’s son), whose affluent parents are Juan (Adolfo Jiménez Castro) and Natalia (Nathalia Acevedo), living in what resembles an architecturally designed house in what is otherwise a poor rural area of Mexico.  The parent’s relationship revolves around old literary language, continually calling one another love, or my love, even though Juan has a vile temper, seen viciously beating one of his prized dogs (offscreen).  Sometime later, the parents are at a wealthy dinner party, where Juan proudly quotes Tolstoy, generating mocking sneers behind his back, finding him pretentiously arrogant and snobbish.  In stark contrast, the couple later enjoys themselves visiting a hip Paris sauna when trading partners was in vogue, where Natalia is a big hit literally offering herself to the somewhat lecherous clientele.  Each of these scenes is an example of the disharmony in man, a fall from grace, where there are eventual consequences, even when expressed as a random act.  In some mysterious way, man is ultimately punished, perhaps by God, perhaps by the Devil, but this film presents apocalyptical acts of damnation, followed by a Biblical cleansing.  Whatever one makes of this film, there is little to suggest it is an act of extreme provocation, or an empty exercise of self indulgence, as claimed by some, as there were a scattering of boos at Cannes as well, instead one might suggest it’s a profoundly influential modernist and narrative free work that simply operates in a different cinematic vernacular, existing in a dreamlike plateau where humans often play a secondary role.

Post Tenebras Lux

POST TENEBRAS LUX         A                  

Mexico  France  Germany  (120 mi)  d:  Carlos Reygadas 

Pierre had learned, not with his mind, but with his whole being, his life, that man is created for happiness, that happiness is within him, in the satisfying of natural human needs, and that all unhappiness comes not from lack, but from superfluity.

—War and Peace, by Leo Tolstoy, 1869, quoted at a dinner party by Juan (Adolfo Jiménez Castro)

Carlos Reygadas makes challenging art films that play in film festivals, where you can count on extreme visualization and an austerity of form, where in this film he nearly disregards narrative altogether, feeling very much like a Godless Bruno Dumont film, as he examines many of the same themes evoked from the title, “After the darkness, light.”  Impressively shot by Alexis Zabé, for the first time not on ‘Scope, strangely using a boxed 1:37 aspect ratio with refracted images on each side of the screen which has a dizzying way of expressing shadow images that suggest an everpresent duality of meaning.  Told out of sequence, as if that hardly matters, suggesting it’s the overall whole that matters, not each individually selected piece, the film does suggest a good and evil scenario, also God, the Devil, and redemption, class differences, also crime and punishment, where once again nature is viewed at its most thunderous best, literally overpowering the people that populate this film.  While there are likely moral and spiritual messages, they tend to get lost in the random order in which this film is told, where perhaps they are the hardest for each individual to discover in their own lives as well.  While this may be the most challenging film of the year, many are instead taking the easy route, suggesting it is so incomprehensible that the odor of pretentiousness defines this picture.  One must understand that similar charges were weighed against Andrei Tarkovsky’s THE MIRROR (1975), for instance, yet many now think this may be one of Tarkovsky’s most hauntingly beautiful films.  There is a dramatic, Dumont-like scene near the end that takes place in an open field, where the aftermath of rainfall can only be attributed to Tarkovsky, offering a baptismal-like cleansing that evokes John the Baptist, as if this mythical undertaking might wipe away the sins of the world.      

The experience of viewing a film like this is certainly unlike that of seeing other movies, where in a similar manner of say Yasujirô Ozu, the director forces the viewer to alter their perception of what they’re seeing onscreen simply by the way he chooses to express it, where in Ozu’s case he uses a fixed point of reference where he’s simply observing life as it is, while with Tarkovsky or Dreyer, cinema is a means that transcends human limitations, like music, literature, or great art.  Even before the viewer sets foot inside the theater, they know a Reygadas film will be visually spectacular, where nature manifests itself in a glorious, Edenesque simplicity, while also exploring the pathetic interior failings of mankind, pitting spiritual themes against the existential crises of men.  Described as a semi-autobiographical film where reason barely intrudes, Reygadas has suggested this film is “like an expressionist painting where you try to express what you're feeling through the painting rather than depict what something looks like,” supposedly shot in Mexico, Spain, Belgium, and Britain, all places where Reygadas has lived, which might help explain the final shot of the film, which otherwise seems quite random, though the director played rugby for the Mexican national team.  With this in mind, it may be useful to view this as one might an experimental film, perhaps even a video installation, where you’re not so much interested in what’s going on at any given moment as the effect it’s having internally as you experience it.  All Reygadas films have premiered at Cannes, where his first film JAPÓN (2002) won the Caméra D’Or award for the best first feature, SILENT LIGHT (2007) won the Jury Prize (3rd place), while for POST TENEBRAS LUX, Reygadas was awarded the Best Director at Cannes in 2012.

The opening of this film is as powerful as anything seen this year, where a small girl (the director’s daughter Rut) is wandering around a waterlogged open soccer field pointing out various animals like dogs, cows, and horses, while thunder and lightning flash across the sky, as man and nature commingle, but the most prominent effect is the incessant sound of dogs barking.  A supernatural element follows, something along the lines of what we might come to expect in a Weerasethakul film, before a realist, more recognizable family scene reveals Rut is the younger sister to Eleazar (the director’s son), whose affluent parents are Juan (Adolfo Jiménez Castro) and Natalia (Nathalia Acevedo), living in what resembles an architecturally designed house in what is otherwise a poor rural area of Mexico.  The parent’s relationship revolves around old literary language, continually calling one another love, or my love, even though Juan has a vile temper, seen viciously beating one of his prized dogs (offscreen).  Sometime later, the parents are at a wealthy dinner party, where Juan proudly quotes Tolstoy, generating mocking sneers behind his back, finding him pretentiously arrogant and snobbish.  In stark contrast, the couple later enjoys themselves visiting a hip Paris sauna when trading partners was in vogue, where Natalia is a big hit literally offering herself to the somewhat lecherous clientele.  Each of these scenes is an example of the disharmony in man, a fall from grace, where there are eventual consequences, even when expressed as a random act.  In some mysterious way, man is ultimately punished, perhaps by God, perhaps by the Devil, but this film presents apocalyptical acts of damnation, followed by a Biblical cleansing.  Whatever one makes of this film, there is little to suggest it is an act of extreme provocation, or an empty exercise of self indulgence, as claimed by some, as there were a scattering of boos at Cannes as well, instead one might suggest it’s a profoundly influential modernist and narrative free work that simply operates in a different cinematic vernacular, existing in a dreamlike plateau where humans often play a secondary role.