The film "Monsieur Ibrahim" was a precious jewel that I enjoyed for several viewings and, like the character Monsieur Ibrahim, is one that knows much more than it actually tells. There are nuggets of wisdom hidden across the surface of the film like binary codes invisible on the shiny surface of a Digital Versatile Disc...apply the laser of your consciousness and allow what's really there to be amplified in your heart.
I should present a warning, though, that those who go to see this film hoping it will hammer out through intellectual discussion a meeting of the minds between a Jew and Muslim will be disappointed. While the choice of religions is not insignificant, the true weight of the story is the loving mentor-filial relationship between an older man and a boy who is on the searching cusp of manhood, and almost any religion could have sufficed, or even none at all. I did appreciate, though, the use of Islam, a religion to which previously I had never given much thought, and certainly not much positive thought. To me, Islam was simply a "bad" religion, full of sexual fear and shamefully-veiled women, stonings and cutting off the hands of thieves, Jihads, and the spawning of terrorists and relentless destruction, a backward religion having absolutely nothing valuable to give to a modern society, save, materialistically, the oil that they happen to be sitting on. So, it was, in a way, enlightening to see how a quiet, gentle shopkeeper, eyes open to the plight of one young customer, could find sweet comfort in the Koran (and I wonder if this story was somewhat autobiographical of the original book's author, Eric-Emmanuel Schmitt?). And, even better, Monsieur Ibrahim does not push the Koran, does not come knocking on the door like a missionary and threatening dire eternal consequences if one fails to accept it, he simply offers the Koran as something that has given him comfort and even when Momo, the boy, due to his own curiosity begins reading the Koran, Monsieur Ibrahim nevertheless says, "You don't learn about life from books." What a wonderful mentor, one who does not with one simple thought destroy the entire road that lies ahead of the youth by thinking that several thousand years ago everything was solved and answered.
Monsieur Ibrahim embraces Momo as he is, supporting the realities of a life lived on the Earth with all its pleasures and pitfalls, even to the extent of accepting Momo's use of the prostitutes, but is clear that this is just the first step on the way to an ever-deepening, genuine love with a life-long partner. This movie resonates with a favorite theme of mine, the willingness of an elder to take on the responsibility for a lost, unfathered boy, and Monsieur Ibrahim correctly shows this to not be a one-way street; this mentoring is not charity. Monsieur Ibrahim's life is just as much enhanced by his involvement with Momo as Momo's life is by the presence of Monsieur Ibrahim. Those older men who have retained the sparkle in their eyes have a great deal of love and wisdom to give to growing boys, and to share this with someone who will accept it is a craving almost like cow's milk that has to be milked or it will cause pain and sickness. This is a fact that seems to be little understood by our society that seeks more to stuff the elderly into a forgotten back room, much like Monsieur Ibrahim's store, yet a room that is packed from floor to ceiling with treasures that are essential for the maintenance of life.
Despite my having said that the particular religion did not matter, to my taste, it was valuable that Monsieur Ibrahim's religion was Sufiism, the mystical arm of Islam, for if the moral guidance he had sought to give was something fundamentalist, then rather than helping the boy to open up to the spiritual wonders within himself and beyond, it would have been more like pouring concrete over the boy's head. I believe that it is due to there having been so many generations of fathers who had nothing to give to their sons but brutal, unfeeling and unthinking law and dogma, that the sons finally rebelled and would rather receive nothing at all than to be hampered by what would be spiritual stagnation. Our society suffers from this lack of moral guidance today, but the answer is not a return to the conservatism of before that had too many limits then and certainly will not work now, but to open an expansive spiritual passageway into the wondrous heart the way Monsieur Ibrahim did for Momo.
I have only one complaint about this movie, and that is a typical complaint of mine that I offer to all movies that I like as much as I liked this one--it was too short! I would have enjoyed a six-hour mini-series (but I know that the book itself from which this movie came was not much longer than the film). I would have liked Monsieur Ibrahim to get deeper into the religious philosophy; I would have wanted to broaden the journey from Paris to the Black Sea that Monsieur Ibrahim and Momo underwent; and I simply would have wanted to have spent much more time with these two very appealing characters, both of whom were radiant and beautiful, Monsieur Ibrahim due to his comfortable wisdom and generous spirit, and Momo due to the vast appeal of his beauty and promise. (I was glad to see Omar Sharif again, and I hope to see much, much more of Pierre Boulanger in other films.)
But no, I will sublimate my greed, the film was perfect as it was, bittersweet and leaving me wanting much more. Where can I find much more? Perhaps with one hand pointing to the sky and one hand pointing to the ground, I can whirl around God that I find in my heart, learning to read the infinity that is written there, and be ever-satisfied.
I should present a warning, though, that those who go to see this film hoping it will hammer out through intellectual discussion a meeting of the minds between a Jew and Muslim will be disappointed. While the choice of religions is not insignificant, the true weight of the story is the loving mentor-filial relationship between an older man and a boy who is on the searching cusp of manhood, and almost any religion could have sufficed, or even none at all. I did appreciate, though, the use of Islam, a religion to which previously I had never given much thought, and certainly not much positive thought. To me, Islam was simply a "bad" religion, full of sexual fear and shamefully-veiled women, stonings and cutting off the hands of thieves, Jihads, and the spawning of terrorists and relentless destruction, a backward religion having absolutely nothing valuable to give to a modern society, save, materialistically, the oil that they happen to be sitting on. So, it was, in a way, enlightening to see how a quiet, gentle shopkeeper, eyes open to the plight of one young customer, could find sweet comfort in the Koran (and I wonder if this story was somewhat autobiographical of the original book's author, Eric-Emmanuel Schmitt?). And, even better, Monsieur Ibrahim does not push the Koran, does not come knocking on the door like a missionary and threatening dire eternal consequences if one fails to accept it, he simply offers the Koran as something that has given him comfort and even when Momo, the boy, due to his own curiosity begins reading the Koran, Monsieur Ibrahim nevertheless says, "You don't learn about life from books." What a wonderful mentor, one who does not with one simple thought destroy the entire road that lies ahead of the youth by thinking that several thousand years ago everything was solved and answered.
Monsieur Ibrahim embraces Momo as he is, supporting the realities of a life lived on the Earth with all its pleasures and pitfalls, even to the extent of accepting Momo's use of the prostitutes, but is clear that this is just the first step on the way to an ever-deepening, genuine love with a life-long partner. This movie resonates with a favorite theme of mine, the willingness of an elder to take on the responsibility for a lost, unfathered boy, and Monsieur Ibrahim correctly shows this to not be a one-way street; this mentoring is not charity. Monsieur Ibrahim's life is just as much enhanced by his involvement with Momo as Momo's life is by the presence of Monsieur Ibrahim. Those older men who have retained the sparkle in their eyes have a great deal of love and wisdom to give to growing boys, and to share this with someone who will accept it is a craving almost like cow's milk that has to be milked or it will cause pain and sickness. This is a fact that seems to be little understood by our society that seeks more to stuff the elderly into a forgotten back room, much like Monsieur Ibrahim's store, yet a room that is packed from floor to ceiling with treasures that are essential for the maintenance of life.
Despite my having said that the particular religion did not matter, to my taste, it was valuable that Monsieur Ibrahim's religion was Sufiism, the mystical arm of Islam, for if the moral guidance he had sought to give was something fundamentalist, then rather than helping the boy to open up to the spiritual wonders within himself and beyond, it would have been more like pouring concrete over the boy's head. I believe that it is due to there having been so many generations of fathers who had nothing to give to their sons but brutal, unfeeling and unthinking law and dogma, that the sons finally rebelled and would rather receive nothing at all than to be hampered by what would be spiritual stagnation. Our society suffers from this lack of moral guidance today, but the answer is not a return to the conservatism of before that had too many limits then and certainly will not work now, but to open an expansive spiritual passageway into the wondrous heart the way Monsieur Ibrahim did for Momo.
I have only one complaint about this movie, and that is a typical complaint of mine that I offer to all movies that I like as much as I liked this one--it was too short! I would have enjoyed a six-hour mini-series (but I know that the book itself from which this movie came was not much longer than the film). I would have liked Monsieur Ibrahim to get deeper into the religious philosophy; I would have wanted to broaden the journey from Paris to the Black Sea that Monsieur Ibrahim and Momo underwent; and I simply would have wanted to have spent much more time with these two very appealing characters, both of whom were radiant and beautiful, Monsieur Ibrahim due to his comfortable wisdom and generous spirit, and Momo due to the vast appeal of his beauty and promise. (I was glad to see Omar Sharif again, and I hope to see much, much more of Pierre Boulanger in other films.)
But no, I will sublimate my greed, the film was perfect as it was, bittersweet and leaving me wanting much more. Where can I find much more? Perhaps with one hand pointing to the sky and one hand pointing to the ground, I can whirl around God that I find in my heart, learning to read the infinity that is written there, and be ever-satisfied.