5.8/10
Senior Film Conservator
A definitive 5.8/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. The Monastery's Hunter remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
Look, if you enjoy staring at craggy mountain peaks for long stretches while people in wool coats talk about honor, you might dig this. If you need a movie to move faster than a glacier, stay far away. This is for the folks who like their cinema to feel like an old, slightly damp postcard.
The whole thing has this heavy, dusty atmosphere that hits you immediately. It's not trying to be flashy. It’s just trying to be... there. Honestly, sometimes it’s just too there.
Viktor Gehring spends a lot of time walking up and down hills. He’s the hunter, tasked with keeping the monks fed, which sounds like a thankless job. There’s a scene where he’s cleaning a rifle that felt like it lasted twenty minutes. I checked my watch twice.
The mountain scenery is beautiful, sure, but it’s a bit suffocating after a while. You get it. The mountains are big, and the people are small. We get the point.
Then there’s the girl. The romance feels about as dry as the venison he’s hauling to the monastery. There’s no spark, just two people standing in front of a painted backdrop looking mildly concerned. It reminded me a bit of the awkwardness in Counterfeit Love, where the emotional stakes felt weirdly detached from the actual actors.
Maybe it’s the era. Everything is so stiff. Nobody just talks; they declare things at the horizon.
I found myself thinking about The Hunt, which manages to make the act of tracking something feel actually tense. Here, it’s just a chore. A very scenic, very slow chore.
It’s not a bad film, really. It just doesn't seem to care if you're watching or not. It’s just going to keep doing its mountain thing, regardless of your interest level. 🏔️
Maybe watch it on a rainy Sunday if you’ve run out of literally everything else. Just don't expect a revelation.
