Of Gods and Men (2010)

[bunniefuu]

I fear for the fate of this country.

Yesterday two women teachers
were found m*rder*d.

For telling teenagers
falling in love is normal,

that they're allowed to.

It's a 15-year-old girl
who tipped off the extremists.

We're as sad as you are.

What do you know?

This is my country.

Besides being sad,
I'm tired of not seeing it grow up.

And despite what you think,
I blame French colonisation.

That organised plundering.

For you.

MINISTRY OF THE INTERIOR

They mean business.

They're giving you orders.

No one other than ourselves

can decide that we must leave.

I'd have been surprised.

Really surprised.

Your stubbornness is getting dangerous.

Look at all these people.

They're at home here.

They're terrorised.
They all wish they could leave.

They have no choice, no money.

It's not cowardly to want to leave.

It's about being free.

TERROR STRIKES DJELFA

Sooner or later, it'll be you.

No one can control
what's going on these days.

You'll end up
becoming just another pawn.

Your sacrifice
will eventually be exploited.

I've known you for years.
I have respect for you.

And for what your community has done.

Please, go back to France.

Did your car break down?

Is any of you a mechanic?

If you know how to fix it, be my guest.

Should I try?

- Should I try?
- Is it in neutral?

You're in neutral? Go on, try.

Will the village
need the army to protect it?

Because they'll be back someday.

Forget the army!

It's a disaster.

The army won't come.

The protection is you.

This village grew up
with the monastery.

Who was that priest, before?

A while back, before the w*r.

Brother Bernard?

Another one. Old.

Brother Daniel.

That's him.

Brother Daniel.

He told my mother not to stay here.

Move to a city.
There was no more work here.

She made him swear
to say nothing to my father.

Because my mother,
she feels good living here.

Comfortable.

We may be leaving.

Why are you leaving?

We're like birds on a branch.

We don't know if we'll leave.

We're the birds.

You're the branch.

If you go, we lose our footing.

Forgive us our trespasses

as we forgive those

who trespass against us,

and lead us not into temptation

but deliver us from evil.

Let us bless the Lord

We render thanks unto Him

So you want to leave?

I was thinking that.

I wonder what my life would be.

Your family, in France?

They're worried?

I'm not sure they realise
what's going on here.

I haven't said anything.

The last time I saw them,
it was strange.

What do you mean?

We celebrated my mum's 80th birthday
at a restaurant.

I saw everyone.

My sisters were there,

nephews, nieces, my goddaughter.

Everyone was talking, telling stories.

Taking pictures.

They know that's not my thing.

I was there, listening. I was happy.

They put me next to my mum.

And at the same time...

...I was totally out of it.

I was thinking...

...if I stopped everything, if...

I could move back home.

Get back to work, plumbing.

Town council,

ire department, chorus.

Then I thought,
"No, that's not possible."

My life's over there.

Here. With you.

Christian's teaching today
was interesting.

Don't you think?

Did you understand anything?

f*ck off!

Okay.

Just tired. Not his fault.

"There was a time
when a French toe-punt was crummy

"and its Irish equivalent
a mere display of folklore.

"When these damned men didn't know
what to do with their ten digits,

"but were great at bending the rules
to piss everyone off."

Is that all?

"Even though we agree
with Mr Break-Neck

"that our amiable guests

"never closed the game out,

"we still wonder whether they prefer,
deep down,

"the dervish-like scrums

"and bleak brawls of yesteryear.

"Back when players
still cared about not being

"naughty old men."

A little more.

Help me, help me.

Don't abandon me.

Don't abandon me. Please.

Help me.

Not very pretty. It got infected.

Tell him I'll be giving him two sh*ts.

An antibiotic and a tetanus sh*t.

He's in pain. He needs medicine.

I'll give him a tranquilizer.

Let's clean this up.

You'll be fine.

Glory be to the Father,
and the Son and the Holy Spirit

World without end

Save us, Lord

Whilst we watch

Keep us, Lord

Whilst we sleep

And we shall watch with Christ

And we shall rest in peace

I'm worn out.

Does Amedee help out?

Fortunately. I don't know
how I'd manage otherwise.

I've never had so many visits.

I'm up to 150 a day.
Can you imagine?

People come from everywhere around.

I'm dealing with new pathologies.

Lots of hypertension.
They're stressed.

Some are in a state of shock.

Not to mention the effect
on the kids.

The villagers may talk
about these men we help.

Be careful.

Throughout my career I've met
all sorts of different people.

Including Nazis.

And even the devil.

I'm not scared of t*rrorists,
even less of the army.

And I'm not scared of death.
I'm a free man.

Let the free man through!

My men tied him to a truck,
dragged him through the city.

People jumped for joy.

Lucky for him he was dead.

Why didn't you stop them?

Stop them?

Lots of people in the crowd
were victims of his atrocities.

Family.
Friends who d*ed.

Many innocent people.

Disgraceful.
No one should be treated this way.

Want to know his favourite t*rture?

Fayattia and others like him
deserve no compassion.

You're very indulgent
with the t*rrorists.

Overindulgent.

Rumour has it
he was shielding the monastery.

Did you ever treat them?

Where did you ind him?

Two days ago,
the Walt's car was ambushed.

Near Tikrit.

The t*rrorists got away.

We found a wounded man
on the ground.

His friends ditched him.

He talked about his mother.
Said his name was Fayattia.

My men let him suffer.

He d*ed
before we could make him our trophy.

How can you be sure it's him?

Why do you think I asked you here?

So?

It's him.

Get out. Go on.

Outside.

I sleep badly.

The slightest noise wakes me.

I think over my life.

My choices.

As a kid I wanted to be a missionary.

Dying for my faith
shouldn't keep me up nights.

Dying here,
here and now,

does it serve a purpose?

I don't know.

I feel like I'm going mad.

It's true that staying here...

...is as mad as becoming a monk.

Remember.

You've already given your life.

You gave it by following Christ.

When you decided to leave everything.

Your life,
your family, your country.

The family you could have raised.

I don't know if it's true anymore.

I pray.

And I hear nothing.

I don't get it.

Why be martyrs?

For God?

To be heroes?

To prove we're the best?

We're martyrs out of love,
out of fidelity.

If death...

...overtakes us, despite ourselves,

because up to the end,

up to the end we'll try to avoid it,

our mission here
is to be brothers to all.

Remember that love
is eternal hope.

Love endures everything.

I'm sorry.

Like patched earth

I stand before you, Lord

O Lord, hear my prayer

Listen to my cry for mercy

In your faithfulness, answer me

Enter not into judgment
with your servant

For no man living
is righteous before you

The enemy persecutes my soul

He has smitten my life to the ground

He has made me dwell in darkness

With those long dead

My spirit grows faint within me

My heart within me, dismayed

Answer me quickly, O Lord

My spirit fails

Do not hide your face from me

Lest I be like them
who fall into the pit

We've received so many letters recently.

People are worried.

I can't answer them all.

There's that French journalist
who wants to meet us.

I don't know what to tell her.

We shouldn't expose ourselves further
by doing publicity.

Of course, but...

...it's a way of making
people understand our choices.

To show that
amid all this drama,

for people here,
there's reason for hope.

You know,
hope is not what interests journalists.

It doesn't mobilise them.

Exactly.

Maybe we should mobilise them.

I suggest we take a vote.

To see if we're all of one mind.

Who wants to leave?

I've already told you
my position on this matter

and my calling is to be here,
with everyone.

I don't see myself leaving.

Leaving would lead nowhere.

I'm not ready to leave myself.

Last night I thought about leaving.

I'm not comfortable with it.

Not at peace.

Deciding to run off like that
makes no sense.

We didn't come here
for our own personal interest.

I still think that our mission here
is not finished.

I'm staying.

I prayed all morning
while I was cooking.

The disciple

is not above his master.

This is no time for me to stray.

Let God set the table here.

For everyone.

Friends and enemies.

And you, Christian?

Wildflowers don't move
to ind the sun's rays.

God makes them fecund

wherever they are.

Who prefers to stay?

You.

You envelop me, hold me,
surround me.

You embrace me.

And I love you.

- Where do you live?
- In town.

- ID.
- I don't have it on me.

- Where do you live?
- Just nearby.

- ID.
- I don't have them.

- Where do you live?
- The village.

Stop this nonsense!

These women and children
are here to be treated.

This is not a police station!

Enough!

Unbelievable.
Sit down.

Follow me.

I recently read
this pensee of Pascal's,

"Men never do evil
so completely and cheerfully

"as when they do it
from religious conviction."

Here it is mayhem

and v*olence.

We are in a high-risk situation,

but we persist in our faith
and our confidence in God.

It is through poverty, failure and death

that we advance towards him.

Heavy devastating downpours

have put no damper
on the spread of v*olence.

Two opponents,
one clutching onto power,

the other out to seize it.

They'll fight to the bitter end.

I don't know when or how it will end.

In the meantime, I do my duty...

Caring for the poor and the sick,

awaiting the day I close my eyes.
Dear friend,

pray for me, that my leaving this world

will in the peace and joy of Jesus.

O Father

Of light

Eternal light!

And source of all light

You illuminate us,
at the threshold of night

With the radiance of your face

The shadows, for you

Are not shadows

For you, night

ls as clear as day

May our prayers before you

Rise like incense

And our hands like the evening offering

Welcome, Bruno.

Celestin.

Christophe.

Hello, Luc.

Jean-Pierre.

Amedee.

- Hosts.
- For me.

For us.
For us all.

Medicine.

For Luc.

Lots of medicine.

- You found it?
- I found your book.

Is it the right one?

"The Chosen".

Cheese!

Any news of Brother Didier?

Of course he said to say hello.

And I have a letter for you.

So how was your trip?
How long was it?

It took a while
to come from the diocese.

At least three hours.
There were three checkpoints!

Between the last two checkpoints

there was a bus burning
on the roadside.

Smoke coming out of it.

And we didn't know
if the checkpoints were real or fake.

On the way here,

as we got closer,
there were fewer vehicles.

Many soldiers?

Yes, near the checkpoints.

They were all very tense.

Out of the question
to speak to them.

- How do we stand?
- However we want.

Short ones up front.

Squeeze in closer.

Ready?

Set...

Let's take another.

Smile a little.

I've often thought of that time.

That time...

...when Ali Fayattia and his men left.

Once they were gone...

...all we had left to do was to live.

And the first thing we did was...

...two hours later.

We celebrated
the Christmas Vigil and Mass.

It's what we had to do.

It's what we did.

And we sang the Mass.

We welcomed that child
who was born for us...

...absolutely helpless and...

...and already so threatened.

Afterwards,

we found salvation
in undertaking our daily tasks.

The kitchen, the garden,

the prayers, the bells.

Day after day.

We had to resist the v*olence.

And day after day, I...

I think each of us discovered

that to which Jesus Christ
beckons us.

It's...

...to be born.

Our identities as men
go from one birth to another.

And from birth to birth,
we'll each end up

bringing to the world
the child of God that we are.

The Incarnation, for us,

is to allow the filial reality of Jesus

to embody itself in our humanity.

The mystery of Incarnation remains...

...what we are going to live.

In this way
what we've already lived here takes root

as well as what we're going to live
in the future.

"Whoever tries to save his life
shall lose it,

"and whoever shall lose it,
preserves it.

"l tell you, on that night,
two people shall be in one bed.

"One shall be taken, the other left.

"Two women shall
be grinding grain together.

"One shall be taken, the other left.

"The disciples asked him,
'Where, Lord?'

"He answered,
'Where there is a body,

"'there too the vultures shall gather.'"

The Gospel of the Lord.

Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

The body of Christ.

The body of Christ.

Lord, blessed art thou for this meal
which unites us as brothers

now and...

...world without end.

Hurry up!

Move!

Hurry, faster!

Hurry, get dressed.

I just got here.

I can't.

I said don't push!

Careful with that medicine.
it's for the children, not you.

It's very precious.

Stop pushing me! That's enough!

Calm down!

I am Brother Paul.

A monk at the Monastere de l'Atlas.

And I'm in good health.

I am Brother Celestin.

I'm 63.

A monk at the Monastere de l'Atlas.

I'm in good health.

Your turn, Luc.

My name is Brother Luc.

From the Monastere de l'Atlas.

I heard what they're saying
on the news.

I've been taken hostage
with my colleagues by the Jama...

- What's it called?
- Islamiyya.

Jama Islamiyya, that's it.

Your turn, Christian.

In the early hours of Friday morning,

the Mujahideen read us the bayan
of the Jama Islamiyya Moussalaha.

- It says...
- Signed by?

Signed by Abu Abderrahamane Amine.

It says we're being held hostage and
demands that the French government

free hostages belonging to their group
in exchange for our liberation.

This exchange is non-negotiable.

Did you hear?

Should it ever befall me,
and it could happen today,

to be a victim of the terrorism
swallowing up all foreigners here,

I would like my community,
my church, my family,

to remember that my life was given
to God and to this country.

That the Unique Master of all life

was no stranger
to this brutal departure.

And that my death is the same as
so many other violent ones,

consigned to the apathy of oblivion.

I've lived enough to know
I am complicit in the evil that, alas,

prevails over the world

and the evil that will smite me blindly.

I could never desire such a death.

I could never feel gladdened
that these people I love

be accused randomly of my m*rder.

I know the contempt
felt for the people here,

indiscriminately.

And I know how Islam is distorted
by a certain Islamism.

This country, and Islam, for me

are something different.

They're a body and a soul.

My death, of course,

will quickly vindicate
those who called me naive or idealistic,

but they must know that I will be freed
of a burning curiosity

and, God willing,
will immerse my gaze in the Father's

and contemplate with him
his children of Islam as he sees them.

This thank-you
which encompasses my entire life

includes you, of course,
friends of yesterday and today,

and you too,
friend of the last minute,

who knew not what you were doing.

Yes, to you as well
I address this thank-you

and this farewell
which you envisaged.

May we meet again,
happy thieves in Paradise,

if it pleases God,
the Father of us both.

Amen.

Inchallah.

Christian, Luc, Christophe,
Celestin, Paul, Michel and Bruno

were k*lled on May 21, 1996.

The identity of their murderers
and the circumstances of their deaths

remain a mystery.

Amedee d*ed on July 27, 2008.

Jean-Pierre is still alive.
He is now 86.