Sin #8: The Silence of Light

The opening sequence of “Stellen Licht” (“Una Luz Silenciosa”) is a stunning six minute sunrise. It’s an apt metaphor for the film’s title, as director Carlos Reygadas transforms the movie-going experience into a poetic, spiritual and haunting journey. It goes deep into a Mennonite community in Mexico, focusing on the life of Johan and his family, who apparently love each other, in a life that feels much more communal with nature than most of us will ever understand. But Johan is having an affair and is tormented by guilt.

At 145 minutes, “Stellen Licht” plays like a test to the audience. Some will love its slow and steady pace filled with extraordinary images but most will by bored to tears, waiting impatiently for the torture to be over. I pity these people, since it’s a remarkable example of Mexican art cinema but understand and even empathize with their feelings.

I once sat through a torturous Chinese film titled “I Don’t Want to Sleep Alone” and couldn’t wait to get out; it wasn’t merely slow, it was static, impenetrable and shockingly pretentious. It reminded me of George Constanza on Seinfeld, claiming he wanted to do a show about nothing; this movie really was about nothing.

But the difference between these two films is that “Stellen Licht” is about something, sorrow and regret mostly, and about showing us a foreign world that, ironically, lives too close to our own.

In a way it reminded me of the fascinating documentary “Into Great Silence” that takes us deep into a monastery in the French Alps. The monastery is run by the Carthusian Order, who cherish silence and spend most of their days in meditation. The movie follows the same tradition and becomes a spiritual, contemplative work that hardly uses any words to convey a state of peace and tranquility.

I don’t know whether “Stellen Licht” will have the same impact on the small screen. On the cinema it’s simply hypnotic. Here’s a movie to drown yourself in, to realize that movies can be more than just entertainment.