In 2011 German-born French film director Dominik Moll adapted Matthew Lewis’s controversial Gothic novel The Monk (1796) for the silver screen. It received mixed reviews with a score of 5.8 out of 10 on the IMDb site and 3 stars from The Guardian’s Peter Bradshaw. Albeit less sensational than Lewis’s original, Moll’s intense and poignant adaptation is no doubt hindered in the ratings by its niche market audience and art house quality. The complex plot line of the eighteenth-century Gothic novel was always going to present a challenge during adaptation. While forced to edit out a handful of key characters (including The Bleeding Nun and the Wandering Jew, both notoriously loved by fans of the novel) Moll’s streamlined structure holds fast to the central plot. It chronicles the downfall of the well-respected Spanish Capuchin monk, Ambrosio, performed with otherworldly gravitas by Vincent Cassel.
Abandoned as a baby Ambrosio is taken in by a monastery and becomes an exceptional preacher, earning himself and the Order no small amount of fame. One day a masked figure arrives and expresses a desire to join, having been shunned by the world because of his horrendous facial burns. In a shocking twist, this newcomer soon reveals to Ambrosio that he is actually a woman called Matilda, adding that she has joined the monastery out of desire for him.
The plot continues to take surprising turns as Matilda refuses to comply with Ambrosio’s demands that she leave, instead arranging for him to suffer a poisonous insect bite. As if reading from the Misery courtship playbook Matilda heals Ambrosio and they end up embarking upon a sexual relationship. When they are inevitably discovered, Matilda proves herself not afraid to take action when necessary, killing the monk who caught them before he can sound the alarm.
Simultaneously a second plot finds Antonia, a beautiful young girl, begging Ambrosio to leave the monastery to visit her sick mother. Driven by lust, Ambrosio accepts a magic spell concocted for him by Matilda and breaks into Antonia’s house, using the spell to rape her before killing her mother, who by this point has discovered them. As she dies, Antonia’s mother recognizes a mark on Ambrosio’s body which identifies him as her long-lost son.
Captured and presented to the Inquisition for punishment, Ambrosio finds himself selling his soul to the Devil to escape captivity. Matilda is revealed to be a minion of Satan sent to seduce him from his monastic vows and the film concludes with Ambrosio sacrificing himself in exchange for Antonia’s future happiness.
While Moll is forced to condense much of Lewis’s original novel and abandon the dark humour that runs throughout it, it remains a vivid and arresting adaptation. Of particular interest are the cinematic methods Moll employs to successfully recreate several of Lewis’s key literary techniques.
The motif of voyeurism which is so central to the novel is present in Moll’s artistic use of iris in/iris out which frames the scenes. Equally, his choice of camera angles direct the audience’s view; high-angle shots through the eyes of the many engraved faces within the monastery and low-angle shots through the eyes of the adoring crowd during Ambrosio’s sermons. Slow panning shots from corners and passed obstructions also give the impression of a silent witness to the action.
The haunting motif of statues, grotesques and masks fills the film with not-so-vacant, staring eyes. Matilda’s mask conceals the movement of her eyes but we soon realise that she is actively watching Ambrosio from behind their blank surface. Equally, the monastery is covered in gargoyles who observe the progress of Ambrosio’s fall and reflect shock, disapproval and horror through their expressions. These deformed stone faces introduce the image of monstrosity to the monastery in anticipation of Matilda’s arrival and as Ambrosio continues to sin their faces gradually chip away to rough stone. Their reactions represent them as active watchers rather than passive witnesses, which is reinforced when one of them is used to crush a monk who catches Ambrosio and Matilda together; and when a statue of the Virgin Mary begins to cry during Antonia’s rape.
Through his use of colour, Moll reflects the dichotomy that Ambrosio believes exists between the safety of the convent and the temptation of the outside world. Within the cloister walls Moll employs a shady pallet of blue and purple, while the sunbaked Spanish landscape beyond them is hot yellow and red, leaving the audience feeling withered by the heat. In practice, of course, the dark shadows of the monastery do not provide security but secrecy for his crimes and the stark light of the public world exposes his sins. Equally oppressive in their own way, the drastic change between colour schemes forces the viewer to strain to make out features that are hidden in the shadows or bleached in the bright sunlight.
A visually striking film, Le Moine depicts the bleak isolation of guilt and self-loathing. The Spanish plain – vast and baked in the heat – becomes a harrowing representation of Ambrosio’s fevered soul as he sinks further into sin. Ultimately he is left crawling across the sandy flats, pursued by the devil who mocks his previous arrogance.
Interestingly, Moll makes a series of minor changes surrounding Ambrosio’s actions which encourage a perspective different to that perpetuated in Lewis’s novel. His first foray into sin is non-consensual in his delirious state and the magic he uses to gain access to Antonia makes her appear to respond to his advances. By framing the scene in this way, Moll suggests that Ambrosio interprets her as a willing participant rather than a victim. These subtle differences cast a shadow of doubt over Lewis’s monstrous character and bring a new, humanising dimension to the monk which is absent from the novel.
Moll concludes the film with a selfless act: Ambrosio trading his deliverance from Hell for Antonia’s sanity and happiness, thus providing him with a route to redemption that Lewis chose to deny him. The overall tone of the film is less scandalous and more distressing than the novel and Cassel’s combination of fanaticism and despair lingers in the audience’s mind long after the closing credits.
Le Moine (2011) was directed by Dominik Moll, and produced by Diaphana Films.