A Closer Listen
Agnus Dei premiered at the Venice Film Festival in 2025, and concentrates on a very singular subject: the blessing of lambs whose wool will later be woven into liturgical garments. This ancient Benedictine practice is portrayed with great reverence by Italian director Massimiliano Camaiti, who imbues the images with an additional level of holiness. One can feel the history of the Benedictine faith, and hear it in the chants and organ, recorded at the monastery and integrated into Husk Husk‘s evocative score.
The soundtrack forms a short suite, a work of art on its own. While it begins with chants, these chants are subtly manipulated; one can hear the slowing of the tapes and the release, as if history is being embraced and let go. Modern and ancient collide in the score in a way they do not on film. Beginning with “Some Significant Gestures,” Andrew Livingston’s cello also becomes a factor: a weighty addition that sings of solitude and the dignity of the monastic life, especially as it descends into single notes. “Just Once” builds like a sunrise, redolent of prayers before dawn, thinning to a filament before dilating again. A slight dissonance enters “The Double Edge” through the prepared piano, a possible harbinger of impending doom; are the sheep only to be sheared? The last words of the trailer, “Poor creatures. It’s almost time,” followed by a plaintive double bleat, are disturbing enough to conjure the title of another film: “The Silence of the Lambs.” The even darker chords of “The Double Edge (Variation I)” seem to support this interpretation. But the engulfing brightness of “Fixed Point” pushes in a different direction, as chimes join chants atop cello glissandos and organ scales.
It’s always a challenge to glean insight from only a trailer and a score, and in this specific case, the adaptation of a score. The independent value of Husk Husk’s adaptation is that it insists on telling its own story, leaving the interpretation wide open. After viewing the trailer, we fear for the safety of the lambs; after playing the score, we are free to imagine for them a different future, bounding over the hills, surrounded by green grass, bleating in joy. Back at the monastery, the monks caress their new woolen vestments while singing praises for all of God’s creation. The open-heartedness of Husk Husk’s narrative is its own form of grace. (Richard Allen)
Fri Jan 23 00:01:34 GMT 2026