Into Great Silence

You may not think so, but watching monks not talk for three hours is riveting. I can't summon the right words to review this documentary. It is better than language.

Slothrop: I worry, deeply, that my reaction to this film is coming from some weak, insecure place. Maybe in self-defense, I don't know. But I did not enjoy it. Allow me to qualify: in just about three hours of film, there was one short scene of monks sliding down a hill on snow. That was terrific. And a monk, in one of many interspersed close-ups, looked like he had a half smile. That was alright, too. But the remaining majority of the film felt not just ascetic and cold, like its subject matter, but without purpose. It felt blind. There was no examination of internal changes or the purpose behind the silence. There were merely external facts. A community of silence with almost no joy. Lots of bodies losing their strength. I did not come away from the film with any greater understanding of how this kind of life leads to a closeness with God. It seemed, at the end of it, no different than the routines found in the military. There was a hierarchy present capable of kicking you off the island, and a reigning commander, called Him. Boy, I feel really cold and unhappy after watching this. I hope my life is not entirely in shambles and I'm too stupid to know it.