This film, at almost 3 hours long, set in the Grande Chartreuse monastery, a silent order, near Grenoble, will divide audiences - not on a religious basis, but depending on whether one is caught up in its rhythms and images so as to disregard time. If not, it will be 3 very long hours indeed. Whether or not you find it ultimately too long, it is undeniably beautiful.

The colours are muted, of a very narrow palette - ecru, ivory, cream, call it what you will, of unbleached heavy duty habits and worn stones, faded blue of working clothes, browns and golds of old wooden panelling and furniture and dim candle-lit interiors, (no extraneous lighting was allowed to be introduced). So that clear bright colours shock the senses - a single head of celery in the kitchen glows acid green, almost miraculously bright - and in this way we appreciate the look and the sound of common things. In the silence the crunch of heavy scissors cutting cloth, footsteps, the clink of a spoon against a plate, seem special, as if we have never have really heard them before. The texture of old wood, stone, a shaven skull, rough cloth and ageing human faces become infinitely fascinating, so that it is possible to fall into a kind of trance, a Blakean descent into a heaven in a grain of sand. Use of super-8 grainy film at times gives an impression of a world almost disintegrating through being experienced so intensely, and time ceases to exist. In contrast, views of the world outside often show time speeding up, with rushing clouds, stars and shadows. The scenery beyond the walls is spectacular: vertiginous mountains, mist-filled clefts between, a Friedrichian romanticism in contrast with the austere hermetically sealed life within. This is where the monks go in their precious free time (when they are allowed to speak). And where we see them as ‘normal' human beings. Here they chat, or take childlike pleasure in sliding down the snow, respite for them and for the audience too from the gentle solemnity which imbues so much of the film.

One of the brave things about the film is its refusal to instruct or to tell a story - very near the beginning we see a pair of novices introduced to the monastery - but although we do often focus on one of them, in no way do we follow him on his journey to become part of the community. We see various necessary jobs being done - gardening, haircutting, shoe-repairing, making the habits; we hear almost incidentally of the rules about talking (allowed for a period on Sundays - more relaxed than one would have expected). But nowhere is the daily routine outlined or explained. One monk, we discover incidentally, is to fly to Seoul - why, we never find out. The only linear narrative is that of the passing seasons, winter to winter. It is not a documentary about the Order, but an experience in which we are almost participating. I certainly found myself holding my breath at times. Reminiscent of the films of Robert Bresson, character is impenetrable (close-ups of the monks' faces give few clues as to what they are thinking, or their characters as individuals), details receive great attention, while very little actually happens, but what we do see is charged with an almost unsupportable intensity.

Two people out of the quite full cinema left after about 30 minutes, 2 more shortly before the end. Others seemed engrossed, though many were afterwards saying they felt it was too long. Personally, I wanted it to go on. ‘God has seduced me, and I let myself be seduced', says one of the biblical quotes which punctuate the film as inter-titles - risk 3 hours of your life to this film, let it seduce you.

Seen at Tyneside Cinema, Gateshead, 26 June 2007

G M Hopkins