Slamdance 2024: ‘Punishment’ Review
Within the confines of a maximum security prison in Norway, reside four inmates who have nothing but time to think about the path that led them to this place. Øystein Mamen’s contemplative documentary, Punishment, gazes directly into the dark heart of man to examine where that evil may falter. As challenging as its subjects may be to sympathize with, Mamen’s feature directorial debut navigates the silence residing in us all and how introspection can be the catalyst to seeking absolution. Bleak in its presentation but delicate in its approach, Punishment is a potent testament to the forces within us all that shape the direction our lives take and the choices we can make to reckon with those forks in the road - and the decisions we can’t wholly forgive.
As Punishment begins, we are introduced to Hasan, Christian, Bjørn, and John - four inmates serving time in a Norweigan prison for unknown crimes to the audience. While those details come forth through confessional interviews, they are spurred on by their collective voluntary decision to embark on a three-week Jesuit silent retreat in prison. Under the guidance of two priests, all distractions are removed from a single ward where they are now confined, and the four inmates are left with nothing but silence and the occasional thought exercise supplied to them. As they reflect, they are also given time to speak to the priests in one-on-one sessions that allow them to reckon with their thoughts and the results of this contemplative silence.
An important distinction to make early on - and something these four inmates have to come to terms with - is that catharsis is not necessarily the same as forgiveness or absolution. While their crimes range in severity, the four men mostly charge themselves with their punishment and accept that forgiveness may not be possible. Instead, the silence seeps into them and acts as a current that they can focus inwards through to understand what it is they are actually seeking by undertaking the silent retreat. That reckoning of whether or not there are even steps to move forward from this place of punishment is what drives forward the introspective nature of Mamen’s film. These are individuals who have already been judged and given a form of punishment, but do they recognize it internally as a just punishment or does it fail to properly match the evil they feel they’ve inflicted?
Most difficult to adjust to will be trying to find sympathy for those who have committed a grave sin. The subject matter is somewhat tough to acclimate to in that regard because it’s never going to be easy for anyone involved to absolve people of their sins. This is why it makes sense that God is brought into the equation at all - after all, who is more capable of absolving sin? Surrounded by concrete, turning to religion in prison is understandable because it provides some form of comfort in an uncomfortable situation. Punishment is compelling for the fact that the inmates never feel like they accept religion’s place in their lives, but that the words and teachings of it may hold some key to their catharsis. Their situations are perceived as black-and-white (reflected in the choice to also present the film without color), but within the grim exterior is love and hope - which are the only things they can depend on in their circumstance.
Mamen’s film bathes in the silence it creates, and because of that it depends on its subjects to provide momentum to the events unfolding. While Hasan, Christian, and Bjørn all feel like they get their time in the spotlight, John’s experience within the retreat is underwhelming and it doesn’t feel like the filmmakers really got much out of that specific arc. It leads to plenty of downtime, both literally and emotionally, as the film has one less interesting thread but also needs to spend time immersing the audience in the same point of reflection. It’s a tricky balancing act that leads to the film feeling slightly inert at times but is mostly paced well by the captivating momentum dictated by the religious exercise.
While not without some hurdles it has to overcome and certainly a more challenging piece of work thanks to its subjects and commitment to immersion, Punishment has a transfixing quality to its execution that generally absolves the film’s weaker elements. What it’s interrogating in terms of religion and spirituality’s significance to the incarcerated is inherently interesting and Mamen does an excellent job at instilling just why that is. Though it is bleak and there are very few moments of respite, there’s a gentle comfort to Punishment that finds the effects of quiet introspection mirroring the catharsis often found in religion.
The 2024 edition of the Slamdance Film Festival marks the 30th anniversary of the festival, taking place between January 19th and 28th.
