I’ve been putting off writing this review mostly because this movie means so much to me. It was shown on week 6 of Art Film Club Nairobi hosted by my friend Bill Crandall and I’ve since rewatched it with my wife.
I’ve decided to write this now because I feel the darkness closing in on me. I look around and see despair. People glued to their screens. Nobody really able to hold a proper conversation anymore. And worst of all, AI slop everywhere. It might sound like hyperbole, and maybe things aren’t as bad as I make them out to be. I asked my wife and she shrugged it off saying, “nope, things are fine really.” Then again, she’s always been the stoic one in the family.
I can only speak from my experience. A meal with my extended family feels more like a poorly written column in a shady tabloid; too much gossip, too little insight. Even the internet is full of samey AI-generated content. Hollywood keeps rehashing plot lines from decades gone, tweaked for a modern audience.
I digress, but for good reason. It’s been a couple of months already since Bill left Nairobi and, honestly, I miss him. And I miss film club. It was the one place that made me feel whole again. And I haven’t really been able to recreate it, much like I couldn’t really recreate my yoga experience after my wife and I left Rishikesh some years ago.
But, as long as there’s people still making cool things in this world, without AI that is, there’s still hope. And that’s what I took away from Tom Moore’s masterpiece.
What’s it about
Brendan, a young monk, lives in a monastic setting with his Uncle, The Abbott, and a host of colourful characters. By day, the Abbott oversees the building of a wall to protect his people from the imminent arrival of the Vikings. Brendan’s whole life changes when Brother Aiden, a master scribe, arrives seeking shelter, bringing with him an enchanting manuscript that will later come to be known as the Book of Kells.
With the Vikings approaching, Brother Aiden’s only hope is to finish the manuscript, with the assistance of his new Protege, Brendan.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder
Truth be told, that’s a very simplistic overview of what the film is about. It’s an enchanting, magical Odyssey, blurring the lines between fantasy and reality, in a Kaleidoscopic display of breathtaking imagery, symbols and art. Thematically, it’s about how the beauty of art can truly save us in dark and difficult times. Think about when comic books came out during times of war and how they gave people something to believe in and look forward to.
The Vikings represent the soulless, the inhumane. And one scene perfectly encapsulates this. As Brendan and Brother Aiden escape into the magical forest, they find themselves surrounded by Vikings, who demand to see the book.
Side note: earlier on, Brother Aiden mentions that sinners would be blinded if they opened the book. This isn’t some holier-than-thou mumbo jumbo. What it implies is that those who can’t see beauty, will be blinded to it, even if it’s staring them in the face.
Throughout, anytime somebody interacts with the book, turning its pages, having a peek, it glows beautifully. But when the greedy Vikings snatch it from Brother Aiden, it remains inert, blank.
Whenever I find myself falling into depression, my litmus test to see if my soul is still intact is to listen to a moving piece of music or to watch a scene that usually brings me to tears, regardless of how many times I’ve seen it (think Episode 4 of Season 4 of Stranger Things). Without forcing the issue, I allow myself to be enveloped by the beauty of art, and when I feel something stirring deep within, I know that I’m still whole, still intact.
Facing darkness to find insight
To help him write the book, Brother Aiden uses the Eye of Colmcille, which he loses possession of while fleeing the Vikings. Brendan takes it upon himself to enter the cave of the Dark One and confront Crom Cruach, a serpentine monster, to retrieve a new eye, which will then allow him to accomplish his task.
A lot of great art comes from facing the darkness and coming away with insight. Think of this as enlightenment as opposed to a fierce battle between person and demon. When we truly face the thing that’s holding us back and don’t allow it to consume us, we transcend its influence and are able to translate this into art.
I feel like I’ve been in the cave for some time, trying to see what it is I’ve been avoiding for many years now. The reason my writing has become stagnant. Seeing Brendan come away with the Eye of Colmcille gave me renewed hope that all is not lost so long as there’s a story to be told. All it needs is patience and insight.
Create something that stands the test of time
If you’re worried that whatever it is you’re working on is taking forever, don’t sweat it. Keep writing. The Book of Kells took around 75 years to write. It was passed down from master to apprentice and is now proudly displayed at the Old Library in Trinity College, Dublin.
Da Vinci completed fewer than 20 paintings in his lifetime. But his work can still be found in museums and galleries the world over.
If you’re creating something, let it be enduring and wholesome. Trust the process. Be in the moment. And when in doubt, go back into the cave of the Dark One, and retrieve your own Eye of Comcille.
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