What's this? A two-hour-and-forty-one-minute long documentary on an order of monks who have taken a vow of silence - a film almost completely devoid of speech and musical accompaniment and fully devoid of narration? How audacious a concept is that?! "Into Great Silence" focuses on some Carthusian monks who reside at the Grande Chartreuse Monastery tucked away in a remote corner of the soaring French Alps. With rare exceptions, all we hear for the duration of the movie are natural sounds (birds chirping, water dripping, leaves rustling, feet shuffling, brooks babbling), the tolling of bells, and the signing of Latin hymns. We watch as the monks go through their well-oiled rituals of meditation, prayer and daily chores. With the visuals having to carry so much of the weight of the film, I'm happy to report that the imagery is often quite stunning, resembling nothing less than beautifully composed landscapes and warmly-lit still-lifes brought to sudden life. And, at times, "Into Great Silence" serves as a welcome balm to our aching ears which seem to be under almost constant assault from the cacophony of the modern world.Yet, just how "great" you'll feel the silence is may depend on whether you view cloistering itself as the ultimate act of piety, devotion and self-denial, or as an act of cowardice and selfishness, giving a person permission to retreat from the harsh realities of life and to relinquish all personal responsibility for making the world a better place in which to live. It may take a special person to be both willing and able to shun so much of the pointless jabbering that consumes our lives on a daily basis, but there's still something to be said for being a part of the one species on the planet that is able to truly engage one another through our speech and words. That seems, somehow, too precious a gift to be traded in so cheaply for a trouble-free life."Into Great Silence" is certainly not for all audiences, and it does go on way too long, no doubt about that. Some viewers will find the movie refreshing and therapeutic, while others will be driven out of their skulls with boredom. To be honest, I had a little of both reactions while watching the film. Congratulate yourself on your enlightenment and superhuman patience if you find yourself thoroughly entranced by the experience, but there's no real reason to feel like a Philistine if you don't.

I don't usually write reviews but this film is an exception. No storyline, no character development, no facts, and virtually no sound: This film is purged of everything, leaving only a simplicity which is as beautiful as it is tedious. This film is an empty canvas and allows the viewer to fill in the details and meanings. If the viewer doesn't do that, he's just staring at the blank canvas; if he does, he may discover something very profound.It took me three sittings to finish this film. If you are planning on watching it, clear your mind of any preoccupations and focus on the movie. The experience will probably be well worth the three hours.

Granted this is a interesting film with visually beautiful scenery of the monastery and surrounding french alps, but the lack of sound is almost deafening. This film directed towards either the devout or the extreme documentary attendee. I lasted 2 hours before I had seen enough. It's clear I'll never be a monk.Those of you considering this film, be prepared for long, again silent, takes where scenes of the monks praying or reflecting is common.I think the film would have been more successful with me had it been 110 minutes in length.On a self-conscious note: Never was eating popcorn or sipping from a water bottle louder.

If you can sit still for the nearly three hours of this film, it's almost guaranteed to bring down your heart rate, maybe make you want to spend more time in the high mountains or in the snow or contemplating spring flowers in some isolated place. Into Great Silence (Die Große Stille) is a documentary of unusual austerity and beauty, like La Grande Chartreuse itself, the Carthusian order's central monastery high in the French Alps that German filmmaker Philip Gröning has recorded. His film is steeped in a unique atmosphere; there is no narration. To have provided any would have interrupted the prevailing silence that is characteristic of the place. This method -- the withholding of all commentary -- can work fine for a documentary, especially where there is a lot of dialogue, as in the recent, highly admired Iraq in Fragments; or where the activities shown are familiar, such as the classroom scenes so meticulously filmed in Être et avoir (To Be and to Have), an un-narrated chronicle of a rural French elementary school. But lovely and calming as Into Great Silence is, it preserves the atmosphere at the cost of failing to penetrate its subjects' inner lives. How well can we ever understand spirituality? But above all, how well can we understand it from visuals, without any words describing the inner experience? There are other specifics that Gröning, who was forced to work virtually alone and without any artificial light, chooses not to detail. A monk's life is rigorously organized, but here that schedule isn't specified. Editing flits about arbitrarily between shots of monks praying alone or in the chapel, external landscape shots; shots of wood being chopped, food being prepared or delivered to cells, snow being shoveled, robes being made, heads being shaved, books being read at cell desks. And there's an initiation ritual, plain chants, poetically blurry close-ups of candle flames or fruit. There's even a moment of laughter and high spirits when a group of younger monks slide down a hillside in the snow (in their boots, without skis or snowboards). Bells sound, and the monks bustle about from one activity to another, but according to what system is left to the imagination. In one shot a monk sits in front of a big desk strewn with bills and documents. He just stares at them. What does it mean? Several times the succession of scenes is interrupted with a short series of shots of individual monks staring into the camera, wordlessly, of course. There is one long shot of a monk who may be dying. He too stares into the camera. These moments are rather spooky. Despite the presence of prescription eyeglasses, shoe goo, electricity for lights and an electric razor in the "Razora" room -- even, despite wood stoves in the cells, the sighting of a single radiator -- the place has a thoroughly medieval feel, and that's spooky too. Every so often in large letters there is a saying of Jesus, such as "He among you who does not renounce all his possessions cannot be my disciple," flashed in French on the screen, as in a silent film, and these are repeated, randomly. But again, is this randomness appropriate in depicting a life that is anything but haphazard in its structure? After an hour the film shows that the monks, though they lead daily lives that are silent and isolated except for chapel services, do also get together on Sundays for a communal meal followed by a walk and a chat, rain or shine. When given this opportunity, they don't analyze the world situation. They discuss minutiae of the order's regulations. Later, a blind old monk with impressive down-drooping eyebrows is the only one to address the camera directly. He speaks of blindness and death, describing both as welcome gifts from God, one received, another still to come.There is a significant omission. This place, begun in the early eleventh century, rebuilt in the seventeenth, produces a famous liqueur whose sale supports it; but we don't see the monks doing this work. Gröning says the process is too complicated and would distract from the rest. Distract from what? From the effect he wants to create; not from a picture of what the place is about. Gröning underlines the uniquely rare opportunity he's sharing with us by explaining at the end that he asked for permission to film in 1984, but was held off from doing so till 2000. Maybe he thought since he had to wait so long, he should make a long film. But the extra time doesn't mean deeper insight. At most it is the prolongation of a mood. Rather it seems an outgrowth of the random editing system, an unwillingness or inability to cut or to organize. Off-putting and tight-lipped though this film is, it will no doubt stand as one of the more distinctive of recent documentaries. But it inspires as much irritation as reverence. It's not utterly clear that Gröning is the ultimate guide to this world -- or to any world, for that matter.There are many paradoxes and ambiguities in a monastic existence. The Carthusian order is austere. Its life is one of renunciation and penitence. In this austerity there is a certain luxury. The monks choose it willingly. If they can stick with it (many apparently don't), it is what they want, an ideal setting for the uninterrupted contemplation of God. And it is a peaceful life, a safe life, a life cut off from the worries of cities and families and all uncertainty. Monks don't prepare their weekday meals in their cells any more; they're brought on a cart. Bare and spare and strict though it is, La Grande Chartreuse is in some sense the most spectacular of grand hotels.