Die Grosse Stille: Listening to the Quiet
I finally got to see Die Grosse Stille (Into Great Silence) the other night. I've been waiting a long time to see this award-winning documentary film about the Grande Chartreuse, the mother house of the Carthusian monastic order. The film itself is nearly three hours long with no narration, no soundtrack, and since the monks are alone and silent most of the time, there is no talk except for one beautiful, short, whispery statement near the end. Judging by the rave-reviews and sold-out audiences all over the world, human attention spans are much greater than we give ourselves credit for.
I went in knowing something about the Carthusian life and probably would have done well to leave that at the door. I was too busy recognizing and identifying their activities to really take in what the filmmaker was trying to convey. From what I remember, though, the film says as much about how outsiders might view Carthusian life as what that life means for the monks. Die Grosse Stille follows the monks through their daily, yearly, and life-long rounds, but I feel that without words it was limited in what it could say about their spirituality. That is not to say that the humble rituals of eating and cleaning and digging in the garden are not forms of prayer, but I fear that the film may have dwelled too much on their lifestyle because of its strangeness or as if it were an end in itself (perhaps reflecting the modern preoccupation with material things). Relatively little time was spent on the monks' prayer life, either alone or in choir (the latter being unfortunate for fans of Gregorian chant). While it is understandable that the filmmaker preferred to show more active scenes, I don't know that this accurately reflects the supreme importance of prayer for Carthusians.
As the title suggests, the main theme of the movie is silence, or perhaps more precisely, what one hears when one is silent. The film opens and closes with this quote:
Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence. [1 Kings 19:11b-12]
As I've said, the monks in the film are frequently on the move, so silence is often conveyed through focussing on inanimate objects and on the landscape surrounding the charterhouse (as Carthusian monasteries are called). What we hear in the silence are the sounds of the monks moving through their days and nights, and listening becomes a primary activity for the audience, as it is for the monks in a more spiritual sense. Close-ups of the monks' ears drive home the point that there is something to hear in silence.
While the film may not have met every expectation of this Carthusian wannabe, it turned out to have a profound impact on me. On leaving the theatre I was struck by the sounds around me (which did not include many voices since most people left the theatre silently). After three hours of listening to silence, every sound seemed to stand out and take on new significance. I also found myself looking at objects, plants, even birds, and sensing the silence within them and taking that silence into myself, even in a noisy environment. For a person who is normally inundated and bothered by noise from within and without, these have been novel and very welcome experiences. It's not unusual for a good film to affect me emotionally, but for a film to change my perceptions is extraordinary. I would definitely encourage anyone interested in spirituality to experience this film.
The DVD of the film is being released in Canada next week (it can be shipped to the US), and a two-disc "collector's" DVD (in PAL format) will be available in the UK in May.
UPDATE: My good friend Antony (Coming to the Quiet) has posted his quietly enthusiastic reaction to the film.
