Jump to Pt. V.
CW/TW: Mentions of blood and gore
In this last entry of the series, I want to talk about the most enigmatic main character in the film, the traveling companion of the monks known only as “the Mute”. The Mute appears at the beginning of the film as a friend of the monastery, helping the monks with their daily labor but not appearing to be a formal brother himself. When Geraldus escorts the monks upon their journey, he tries to get the Mute to tell about his origins, but the Mute says nothing. Speaking on his behalf, Ciaran tells Geraldus that the Mute does not speak of his past, and that “it is not our place to question him.” Whatever the cause for his silence, the monastic community respects it as something that is the Mute’s own business, and they give him the dignity of discretion. It is made clear at various times that he can hear and understand what is being said to him.
Later, after they meet the Normans, the Mute is seen praying in the forest with his shirt off. On his back, a tattoo of a Latin cross can be seen. In the film’s language and later implications, this connects him to the Crusades, implying that he took part in them. Crusaders and pilgrims often received tattoos as a memento of their time spent in the Holy Land. The Mute, however, is keen to hide this mark of his history from others, as this is the only time he is seen with it until the end of the film when the jig is up, so to speak. Paradoxically, while the tattoo in the context of the film is a mark of potentially shameful history that the Mute wishes to leave behind, these tattoos were also used as marks of solidarity and identity by groups other than the Crusaders. During the persecutions of Coptic Christians (many of whom were likely murdered by Crusading armies), a number of Copts became tattoo artists, and would mark members of their community with a Coptic cross on the inside of the wrist. This could be visible to authorities, but it was a mark of identity and resistance to assimilation, as well as a sort of passcode for getting inside Coptic churches when they were required to hide for their own safety.* Though this may not have been intentional on the part of the filmmakers, it is worth noting that framing the Mute’s tattoo as something to be hidden except in special circumstances puts this symbol more in affinity with the underprivileged Oriental and Eastern Christian communities the Crusades victimized than with the powerful Crusaders. This is not to say that the Mute is one of these groups. He has perpetrated acts of violence against the enemies of the Crusade, and these cannot be undone. But his secrecy around this fact suggests a turn towards repentance, and a choice to undergo metanoia (a change of heart/mind) by refusing to glory in the symbol of his violence.
When the monks are attacked by brigands in the forest, the Mute first shows his unexpected battle prowess, taking out several of the monks’ attackers with swords and other weapons. Geraldus is amazed, but Diarmuid seems wary of Geraldus’ fascination with the Mute’s battle skills. The Mute goes into a kind of berserker rage when fighting, almost choking Diarmuid by accident when Diarmuid surprises him after being separated in the forest. When the Mute realizes the harm he has almost caused, he loosens his grip and bears an expression of guilt.
Raymond de Merville questions the Mute on his history multiple times, but the Mute refuses to answer.
Towards the end of the film, the surviving monks (Geraldus, Diarmuid and Cathal) are escaping the Normans with the Mute to the sea coast in order to finally set sail for Rome. Geraldus, impassioned by his fundamentalist zeal, orders the Mute to fight off the Norman enemies, promising him a place in Heaven if he does so. The Mute draws his sword and stands his ground on the beach, leaving the other monks to escape. He seems to have an awareness that this is his last act. At the same time, the resignation with which he carries himself suggests to me at least that his reason for doing so is not a desire for glory, but for penance. Having spent a long time fighting the “enemies” of God, he spent many more years living in peace with the monks. Perhaps taking a somewhat tragic interpretation of “He who lives by the sword dies by the sword” (from St. Matthew’s Gospel, Matt. 26:52), the Mute decides that he must die by the sword protecting his friends in order to finally free himself from the violence of the world which pursued him since he first took up the sword all those years ago. This leads him to the climactic final battle with Raymond de Merville, the epitome of everything the Mute has up until now renounced. Raymond desires power and glory, while the Mute has desired to live in humility and anonymity, sharing neither his name nor his story. Raymond has fought in the Crusades and wishes to shed more blood, while the Mute had fled that life when he saw the atrocity it brought upon innocents.
Raymond stabs the Mute with the torture device, leaving it embedded in the Mute’s stomach. The Mute continues fighting. Raymond, in frustration, yells out, “Tell me where you come from!” There is a long moment of silence, and then the Mute responds with his only line in the entire film: “Hell.” The Mute then bites Raymond, severing his jugular and kills him. Thus both warriors die of their wounds on the beach, and the film concludes by cutting back to the monks.
Though in some ways this exchange and scene serve the needs of Hollywood drama, I do feel that there are theological possibilities to be pondered. In the first place, it is worth noting that while violence on the whole is rightly condemned by this film, the Mute serves as an instance of the one possible exception. The Mute is the one who displays in some way the “greater love” which “has no one than this: that he lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13). I don’t feel that this is an example of the film unequivocally condoning violence. After all, the Mute is forced into this tragic situation in part due to the violence of others. It does suggest, however, that the one avenue in which the use of force may be acceptable is in the defense of the innocent from an immediate, real threat. This is different from a holy war, and even different from “preemptive self-defense”. The monks flee until they cannot flee any longer, and the one member of their community with skill on the battlefield consents to buy them some time to escape with his own blood shed. The self-sacrificial element, though muddied in some ways by the context of war, is still present and valuable.
Finally, it’s worth noting the Mute’s final line. Again, it may have been written for the sake of drama, but it does leave interesting questions. Is the Mute a demon or an avenging angel in disguise? Does he feel forsaken to the point where he calls himself a prisoner of Hell? Is he perhaps warning Raymond of the future of Raymond’s soul as he continues down this dark path of subjugation and bloodshed? Any and all of these are possible, or perhaps another meaning entirely. Taking the last possibility as a point of inquiry though, the Mute’s clear-sightedness speaks to a facet of eschatology and soteriology which is often forgotten in more reactionary or fundamentalist Christian circles. Throughout church history (especially but not exclusively in the Christian East), divine judgment upon humanity has been seen less as a “verdict” pronounced by God arbitrarily, but more as a revelation of the state of one’s relationship to God as it already stands. In Orthodox monastic theology in particular, there is a belief that after the death of the physical body, all souls go to be in the presence of God. God is light, warmth, etc, and to those who have sought unity with God and are transfigured into divinity, this is experienced as Heaven and the communion of love with the Triune God. To those, however, who have intentionally separated themselves from God, being eternally close to God is experienced as fire, burning, and pain. Even in the Gospels, there is precedent for this, particularly in Matthew 25 and the Parable of the Sheep and the Goats. Here, what determines one’s experience is not an abstract belief in God, but one’s relationship to God as expressed through one’s actions. In the Mute, Raymond sees a mirror of himself, and the Mute uses his last words perhaps to warn Raymond that to be as he is and act as he does can only lead to an experience of Hell, not Heaven.
The Mute’s word also reminded me of another word, however, that of St. Silouan the Athonite. Silouan was an Orthodox monk in the 20th century who lived on the monastic peninsula of Mt. Athos in Greece. He was known for the advice to his students to, “Keep your mind in Hell, and despair not.” Much has been made of this quote, but to me it speaks to the breathtaking power of humility in the life of faith. For to “keep one’s mind in Hell” is to participate as fully as possible in the suffering of not only those on Earth, but also those who separate themselves from God after death. It is to identify with them, inasmuch as by keeping the mind in Hell, the faithful one does not exempt themselves from judgment or see themselves as “better” than their fellow humanity. Rather, they see themselves as equally in need of God’s mercy, and are moved to pray for the salvation of all, on both sides of the grave.** Speaking several centuries before St. Silouan’s time, perhaps the Mute prophetically envisions this kind of solidarity with all souls, including the soul of the man in front of him, whom he has now been forced to harm. Perhaps in this word, he is also seeking forgiveness.
All in all, the Mute’s role as one seeking atonement solidifies the film’s views on humility, violence and faith. The only character who earnestly seeks God while still committing lethal violence is complex, and seeks to divest himself from it as much as possible. He sees violence not as a tool of God’s will or power, but as something to be avoided wherever possible and something he wishes to save his friends from. In fighting his last battle, the Mute maintains a striking humility and ascetic self-denial, proclaiming that despite the worthiness of his cause in his final moment, he still laments the blood he must shed and sees himself (and potentially Raymond) as a sinner in need of healing.
*Note: This tradition, though decreased in size, is still maintained today in Jerusalem by a Coptic Christian family. To learn more, go to http://razzouktattoo.com/
**Note: The spirituality of St. Silouan and of this precept has been expounded upon in detail elsewhere. As a disclaimer, I will say that this is not a way of thinking that works for everyone, and that’s ok.
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