This post was originally written May 1, 2007

I have been stewing on what to write about this movie since last night and much of today.  I realized the minute I left the theatre that it had had an effect on me for one simple reason.  I walked out of the theatre which was in Bethesda, MD (a suburb of Washington, DC) at about 10:30 on a Monday night and my first thought was "My God, it is SO loud!" 

Two hours and 45 minutes of almost total silence.  I think in total there was about 5 minutes of speech and probably 10 to 20 minutes of chanting.  The only other human created sounds were doors opening and closing, footsteps, a spoon scraping a bowl, etc.  There were environmental sounds like rain, wind, and birds. 

Looking over that brief description, I realize how much it doesn't actually tell a person about this movie.   I wouldn't call it stunning (as many of the reviews do) or an overtly spiritual experience.  It was, and this may sound strange, a lot like taking a anti-anxiety pill.  All the edges were smoothed over.  I didn't really "think" about the film as I was watching it.  I "experienced" it.  Geez, this is really starting to sound like some kind of trippy bong-induced couple of hours but that's not my intent! 

When I told people I’d gone to see this movie, many said, "Oh, I could never sit through something like that without falling asleep."  Not once did I get drowsy and I certainly didn't see anyone else in the entire theatre who looked like they were nodding off either.  Oh, and for those who know me, you'll appreciate why I'm making note of this:  there was not a single rattle of candy wrappers or popcorn bags the entire time!

I once read that to easily explain his theory of relativity as it relates to time, Einstein said, "When a man sits with a pretty girl for an hour, it seems like a minute. But let him sit on a hot stove for a minute and it's longer than any hour. That's relativity."

These past few weeks have felt like both.  I am at once hurtling towards a major life change while at the same time the hours at work tick by with imperceptible slowness.  It is as if I am at once here at work while also packing and moving to Connecticut.  

I suppose this is why I wanted to see Into Great Silence so badly.  For a few hours, time just stood still.  This sensation (and I can only describe it as a sensation) was most prominent during certain scenes of the film.  In particular, scenes of the monks in solitary silent prayer and scenes where the director simply filmed the monks looking into the camera invoked this sensation. 

Those scenes became the most calming of all.  Each one (we would see them in groups of three, interspersed throughout the film) would simply stand there and gaze at the camera.  Some would have a Mona Lisa like smile.  Some would look directly, unblinking, into the camera.  Some seemed to simply see the camera as one more thing in their field of vision - neither interesting nor uninteresting.  Watching these short clips seemed like we were staring 'at each other' forever when I'm sure it was just a few seconds.  I wonder how most of us would respond to the direction - "Just look into the camera." 

Contrast this with the two different episodes where the monks go out for their once a week walk.  They talk.  They debate.  They laugh.  And in the last of these two scenes, most amusingly and...how to say this...most happily(?) they go sledding.