Mother Vera

There have been contemplative documentaries about monastic life before, not least Philip Gröning’s epic Into Great Silence. The contemplative air that prevails at the start of this gorgeously shot film that focuses on the nun of the title, might indicate we are in for more of the same, but Cécile Embleton and Alys Tomlinson’s study of Mother Vera is set to become a lot less cloistered as the nun embarks on an unexpected and transformational path.

The bulk of the film is shot in black and white, drawing its influence from the Ex-Voto photographic project about places of pilgrimage, which is how Embleton and Tomlinson met Mother Vera in the first place - the former from a film background, while the other has a strong photographic back catalogue. We’re drawn into the nun’s world by a combination of impressive visuals as she heads to prayer and an evocative soundscape that makes us aware of everything from the sound of the wind and rustle of robes to canticle bells and evensong.

The inky black of the nun’s clothing finds contrast with the flickering candlelight as she and her sisters join together in prayer. It is also stunning against the snow and, particularly as she gallops across the winter landscape of Belarus on one of her beloved white horses, her robe stretched out across its back. Interestingly, the monastery where Mother Vera - named Olga before she took her vows - lives is a thriving community. Male prisoners live there as part of their rehabilitation, something Tomlinson and Embleton also capture, including lively discussions concerning all being equal and the respite living at the monastery has brought. We also see Mother Vera helping out her family, her strong connection to the natural landscape brought further home by a walk involving a playful donkey foal - with the delightfully inappropriate name of Butch - and its sheep buddy.

Although we see her interacting with others, she doesn’t speak directly to the camera. Instead the nun’s thoughts are offered in voice over as we watch her come and go. This life, we will gradually learn, is very different from the existence she lived before, which was blighted by addiction and a sort of ‘faith’ in heroin which she says initially “gave me a feeling of belonging” before taking her - and others she encouraged to use - to some very dark places. And, it seems, Mother Vera is still “looking for freedom”.

The directors’ approach is intimate but respectful. The camera is close when it needs to be but often focused on a detail, such as hands on a rosary or capturing the detail of surroundings, including religious iconography or the texture of a horse’s coat that help us to feel Mother Vera’s place within these spaces. Her revelations and the openness of those around her when as camera is obviously present speak to a high level of trust that has been developed not just between the directors and the nun but the community where she lives.

There comes a point where the old gives way to something new - which you can read more about in our feature interview with the directors if you’re interested but which it would be wrong to spoil here.

Change happens within the fabric of the film too, as in an elegantly worked transitional moment colour is introduced, at first almost imperceptible but then in full warming contrast to the austerity of what has gone before. Like everything else about this carefully crafted film, it’s undeniably stylish but the directors use their eye for a strong image in service of the story, never just for the sake of it.