Of Gods And Men

At one point during Xavier Beauvois’ philosophical drama Of Gods and Men, a Cistercian monk asserts, “We’re not martyrs.” Well, there were times, watching the film, that I sure felt like one.
Based on true events, the film focuses on eight French monks living in a monastery in Algeria in the weeks before their kidnap and murder in March 1996. Tragic stuff indeed, but the religion-heavy, sombre tone of the film is so laboured that Of Gods and Men buckles under its own weight.
Depicted as co-existing harmoniously with the Islamic community, the monks live contentedly simple lives, and the ensemble cast convey this well, imbuing the monks’ daily routines with a palpable serenity and subtle grace. But Beauvois’ direction is clumsy, the short, disconnected cuts like an endless, exhausting succession of prayer-laden nothings. Then, as the monks come under threat from Islamic fundamentalists, he defers to sentimentality.
Lambert Wilson plays Christian, the de facto leader who is torn between his desire to keep his brothers safe and his duty to the community. The character’s inner struggle is affecting, but shots of him pensively walking alongside a flock of sheep are eye-rollingly obvious. Other notable performances come from the charming Michael Lonsdale and Jacques Herlin, who is scene-stealing as the frail eldest brother. But as they’re forced to engage in increasingly pious scenes (the low point comes as the monks apparently compel a helicopter to leave the area through the power of hymn) I felt manipulated. And though the monks repeatedly vote on whether or not to flee the monastery, their personal reasons and motivations are left unexplored.
Both the scenery and performances in Beauvois’ film are impressive, but its downfall is mistakenly believing that the power of God is more inspiring than the power of men