• By Robert Tan of Taiwan "Wait until you see the rest of my forest," says Aisling, before she leads Brendan to the top of an oak tree. That remark by a guardian of the forest describes "Brendan and the Secret of Kells." This deceptively simple story of a young Irish monk has hidden dimensions beneath its lush, exuberant visuals. To praise its beauty alone becomes an understatement. Its beautifully realised storytelling is rich in symbols, analogies and themes, some obvious and others not so, that give weight and meaning to a seemingly uncomplicated story, set against a mixture of history, fantasy, reality and myth.
You'd think that with many things going on, the film is bound to sag beneath its weight. Quite the opposite, it all appears maddeningly effortless (even too effortless). That alone is an accomplishment seldom equalled by other films that strive for the same feat. Filmwise, this is a welcome change from the cheap thrills, easy profundity and flat storytelling that are rampant in today's movies. Whether or not the storytelling is masterful will depend on how the movie reveals itself to you. "Brendan and the Secret of Kells" does not lend itself easily, always requiring a certain presence of mind to fully grasp it. It gives viewers a true cerebral movie-going experience. More importantly, it avoids selling its sentiments easily. It combines intricate visuals and intricate storytelling, like the motifs of the Chi Rho page of the "Book of Kells."
Brendan and the Secret of Kells. The titular character Brendan is a young monk of the Abbey of Kells, which is enclosed within a fortified village. His strict uncle, the Abbott Cellach, forbids him to go outside the walls of the fort. Hence, Brendan lives a somewhat cloistered life, even by the standard of monks. This is set sometime around 9th century Ireland, when Vikings were plundering villages "in search of gold." One day, a refugee and his cat arrive in Kells: Brother Aidan of Iona and THE adorable Pangur Bán. A foremost illuminator of his time, Aidan brings with him the unfinished Book of Iona, a treasure to the sect that was founded by St. Columba. (This Book is later to become the Book of Kells, a heritage and source of cultural pride for the Irish people.) Sensing that Brendan has the will to go beyond the restrictive, avuncular love of the Abbot, Aidan recruits the young boy to be his disciple in the art of Illuminating the Texts. There begin Brendan's adventures and his coming of age, where reality meets fantasy.
"I'm dazed and confused." Now in case you're wondering what the term "illuminating" means, it is the art of drawing monograms and such that accompany sacred texts, e.g., the Gospels transcribed to Latin. In essence, it could either be as a means of glorifying God through use of one's artistic talents, or to give the texts they "illuminate" a mystic feel. Whichever the reason, don't let it discourage you from seeing this wonderful film. I can assure you that the film does not even attempt to preach the faith. In fact, some of the film's thematic elements may even be deemed as anti-clergical, though this is not ultimately its goal. What the film partly does is entice you to go do some historical research. The film touches on Irish heritage, history and mythology. I imagine that its educational value will have more relevance to the Irish diaspora. But even for kids, this film becomes a tool for intercultural learning (resources for educational use can be found here). As for the rest of us who are not Irish, the quest and appreciation for cultural knowledge can still be mutually shared.
Its distributor, GKIDS.tv, screened it on February 27, via the NYCIFF Online Film Festival, followed by a Q&A portion with the director Tomm Moore. Mr. Moore, whom I will term a modern Illuminator, has brilliantly conceived and architected the ideas within "Kells." And no small wonder, for the ideas were conceived from his old college days. They have now become so coalesced, it must only be the result of precipitation over a long period of time. The flat, yet highly-crafted animation rather evokes the style of 2D '70s cartoons, with their skewed perspectives and angled renderings. But it all comes alive with details, lush imagery and colors of emerald green, monolithic gray, amaranth purple and ochre; of which the latter two must have been inspired by the colors of the Chi Rho Page (one of the most stylised and intricate pages inside the Book of Kells). And, the Celtic beat of Bruno Coulais' music gives the film rustic redolence of folk Ireland.
"Now why didn't I see that one before?" There are some passages in the film (such as the ending) that will not make much sense or appear illogical unless placed within the context of an earlier scene or within the context of history. Once connected, however, they add to the quality of the whole. This is the true magic and "secret of Kells." It is so deceptively simple, but hides things underneath it that are not so easily retrieved. More often, they will escape your attention. Whilst this approach to filmmaking may seem unapologetic, you'll likely come back for a second viewing, or a third, and discover a bit more of "Kells."
BAM POW!! Pangur Bán and the beast within Film comes before sentiments. I have seen a lot of films that openly strive at being profound and touching; but take easier roads. "Kells," on the other hand, avoids wearing sentiments on its sleeves whenever it can. Emphasis on the phrase 'whenever it can.' The ending is a perfect example of this. It hides them cleverly throughout, dispelling most maudlin and pretentious tendencies. The film is larger than the moments which will touch your heartstrings. Best of all, it assumes the audience is clever enough, and doesn't gratify with comfortable stupor brought about by lesser films that parade their wares readily and treat film like comfort food.
This film "illuminated" the difference to me.
Part II - History and Myth, Facts and Fiction
Here, I endeavor to give "Brendan and the Secret of Kells" historical perspective. The film contains many historical and mythological references. But because it largely works in symbols and analogies, the references are tweaked in order to be condensed into an organic whole. For a film that teaches children about honesty and telling the truth, this is a curious choice to tell a story. But then again, Artistic License. So as not to give spoilers away, I will only provide quick historical facts, as compiled from online resources. Of course, readers can also do their own researching, and I highly recommend this. Please be aware that I have very limited resources for study here. All the information below were taken from the web and compiled by yours truly. If you find anything inaccurate, please bring it up to attention. Thank you.
Finally, I will let you determine for yourselves, after viewing the film, which parts of it are facts and which parts are fictional.
The Book of Kells and the Art of Illumination ~ Regarded as Ireland's finest national treasure, The Book of Kells is an illuminated manuscript containing the Four Biblical Gospels (together with some prefatory texts, other tables and legal documents concerning the Abbey of Kells). It was drawn largely from the Vulgate, a 5th century Latin version of the Bible that was of dominant use throughout the Middle Ages. Whilst largely drawn from the Vulgate, the Book also contains several passages from the even older Vetus Latina, a collection of pre-Vulgate Latin Biblical manuscripts. From these two, The Book of Kells was transcribed by Celtic monks around 800 AD.
Traditionally, though, it is also believed to have been the earlier work of St. Columba. Modern scholars are not sure. That it may have been started by St. Columba (in Iona) and then later on finished by successive generations of monks in Kells is also a considered possibility. The reason for its renown is due to the Insular* decorations which supplement the texts and grace the pages. This is called Illumination, which is the art of supplying artistic decorations to such manuscripts. The decorations can take the form of monograms, miniature illustrations, decorated initials / borders, and the likes.
(*Insular art commonly used large initials with zoomorphic designs and interlaces of bands and other motifs.)
The Book takes its name from the Abbey where it resided for centuries. In 1006, it was stolen in the night by thieves who tore its golden, bejeweled cover, leaving the remaining pages buried under "sod," where they were found two and a half months later. In 1654, it was transferred to Dublin for safekeeping, presumably from the possibilities of CROMwellian aggressions (no pun intended). And in 1661, it was presented to the Library of Trinity College where it currently resides.
The Abbey of Kells (County Meath, Ireland) and Abbot Cellach ~ The Abbey was home of the Book of Kells for many centuries. It sits atop a former Irish hill fort, and was founded by St. Columba (of Iona) sometime in the mid 6th century. By early 9th century, monks who fled the island of Iona due to constant raids by the Vikings had resettled to Kells. Amongst these was the Abbott Cellach who retired to Kells in 814. That would roughly put it around the time when the Columban monks had purportedly begun their work on the Book of Kells. Scholars say the Book may have originated at Iona and later on finished in Kells.
The Abbey of Kells was never truly safe from pillagers. It suffered the same Viking attacks that plagued the island of Iona. In 1006, the treasure that it was keeping was stolen by thieves during the night. Subsequent centuries find the Abbey diminished into a parish and passing into Catholic landowners.
The Abbey of Iona (in the Isle of Iona, West Coast of Scotland) ~ The Abbey of Iona was founded by exiled Irish missionary St. Columba and his followers in 563. It was originally a monastery with humble beginnings built on wood and wattle-and-daub, of which were later replaced with stone. In 806, a Viking massacre took place in the Abbey; and in the aftermath, most of the surviving faction fled to Kells in Ireland. Around 1200, during more peaceful times, the Columban monastery was transformed into a Benedictine Abbey Church. Not much later, a nunnery was also established nearby. However, the Abbey and the Nunnery did not escape the Scottish Reformation of the 1560s (a shifting into Protestantism), and these fell into ruin. The current buildings that tourists now see are the result of heavy restorations begun in the beginning of the 20th century.
It was from Iona that Christianity largely spread throughout Scotland and eventually (respread) to Europe. Many early Scottish kings and chieftains, as well as Irish, French and Norwegian kings, were buried in the Abbey graveyard (St. Oran's cemetery, considered to be Scotland's oldest Christian graveyard).
St. Columba (Colum Cille) ~ was a great missionary saint of Irish descent, said to have performed miracles and converted pagans to the faith, e.g., the Picts of Scotland. He was one of the Twelve Apostles of Ireland under St. Finian in Clonard Abbey. In his lifetime, he was also considered a statesman (a mediator), a scholar, a writer / transcriber of over 300 books, as well as founder of many churches and monasteries. On his paternal side, he was the descendant of an Irish high king, Niall of the Nine Hostages (4th century). Tradition holds that around 560, he was exiled from Ireland due to involvement in a religious civil war which took the lives of 3,000 men. As penance, he removed to the Isle of Iona, where he established a simple monastic community. Thereupon, he restarted the mission to preach and gain as many souls that were lost due to the war.
The Chi Rho Page (kai-roe) ~ Whether it be "the work of an angel" or the "product of cold-blooded hallucination," the Chi Rho Page is one of the most lavishly decorated and intricately drawn pages in the Book of Kells. It is also the finest Chi Rho monogram in any of the Insular Gospel Books. The design mainly consists of the Greek letters chi and rho, which are the first two letters of Christ in Greek, Χριστός. A third letter, the iota, can be seen passing through the rho spiral. This Christogram sports swirling motifs, intricate Celtic knotworks, and inconspicuous figures of cats, mice, moths, angels, etc.. A small portrait of Christ can also be seen. The entire decorated page serves as an incipit (beginning) to Verse 1: 18 of the Gospel of Matthew: "Christi autem generatio..." (Now the generation of Christ...)
Crom Cruach ~ is a deity in pre-Christian Ireland. The name could mean "bloody bent one," "bloody crescent," or "crooked mound." It is believed that worshippers sacrificed their first-borns to this god in exchange for good yields of crops and milk. This they do on Samhain (coinciding with November 1), a pagan festival marking the end of the harvest season. According to an old Irish poem, the huge golden idol of Crom stood on the plain of Magh Slécht in County Cavan, Ireland, and around him were twelve smaller idols of stone.
St. Patrick is credited with converting pagan Ireland to Christianity. Medieval legends say that it was this venerated saint who struck down the golden idol with his crosier, whilst the smaller idols sank into the earth.
Pangur Bán (white 'fuller of cloth') ~ is an Old Irish poem dating from the 8th century about a monk and his cat (after which the poem takes its name). It was written on a "school" manuscript by an unknown Irish monk. The manuscript, known as the Reichenau Primer, contains notes on natural history, grammar, astronomy, Greek and Latin word lists, hymns, and poems in Old Irish.
Pangur Bán (translated by Robin Flower)
I and Pangur Ban my cat,
Tis a like task we are at:
Hunting mice is his delight,
Hunting words I sit all night.
Better far than praise of men
Tis to sit with book and pen;
Pangur bears me no ill will,
He too plies his simple skill.
Tis a merry thing to see
At our tasks how glad are we,
When at home we sit and find
Entertainment to our mind.
Oftentimes a mouse will stray
In the hero Pangur's way;
Oftentimes my keen thought set
Takes a meaning in its net.
'Gainst the wall he sets his eye
Full and fierce and sharp and sly;
'Gainst the wall of knowledge I
All my little wisdom try.
When a mouse darts from its den
O how glad is Pangur then!
O what gladness do I prove
When I solve the doubts I love!
So in peace our tasks we ply,
Pangur Ban, my cat, and I;
In our arts we find our bliss,
I have mine and he has his.
Practice every day has made
Pangur perfect in his trade;
I get wisdom day and night
Turning darkness into light.
The Tuatha Dé Danann (People of the Goddess Danu) and Shapeshifting ~ are a race of supernatural beings in the invasions cycle written in the Lebor Gabala Erenn, or Book of Invasions. They are the fifth group of people to invade and inhabit Ireland, defeating the Fir Bolgs which preceded them. True to the cycle, the The Tuatha Dé Danann themselves were defeated by another race, the Milesians. This defeat led to their retreat into mounds (sidhe) which lead into the Otherworld. They are now usually associated with the Faery folk and spirits of the forest.
Shapeshifting is one of the fundamental elements in any mythology. A prime example of a shapeshifter in Celtic mythology is Tuan mac Cairill, the only survivor of the second wave of people that inhabited Ireland (Partholon). In his lifetime, he underwent a series of transformations which spanned a period of many, many centuries; even surviving into Christian times. His successive transformations were as follows: a stag, a wild boar, a hawk, a salmon, and finally as a human. Each transformation may correspond to an era of the Irish Invasions. (*Aisling's three transformations in the film may also have ecological significance.)
Part III - Personal Musings - Analyses and Interpretations (Spoiler alert)
Dear readers, please proceed no further than here if you haven't seen the film yet. Laid out below are my own personal, I repeat, PERSONAL, interpretations into the various themes and symbols of "Brendan and the Secret of Kells." They by no means represent the filmmakers' own. The film is littered with symbols and analogies that it is bound to inspire interpretations. Aside from the symbols and analogies, I will also strive to discuss some of the pivotal scenes in a frame by frame manner, giving my own take into the storytelling techniques which the filmmakers employed to achieve this great animated film. As such, this section of my written work will be full of spoilers. I repeat, IT IS FULL OF SPOILERS! You are advised not to proceed further than this point. Please see the film first and then come back to this section later. If you, on the other hand, have already seen the film, please be welcome to compare your notes with mine. Thank you.
Brendan and the Quills ~ There are two short portions of the film which I thought paid loving homage to animators and the Insular Artists of old. Perhaps these artists share common ground? After chasing the goose and plucking five feathers out of its behind, Brendan raises a feather into the air, looks at it with a kind of solemn regard, and begins flicking the vane. Short and effective. This may also be interpreted as a tribute to the power of the pen. Of course, the incident with the goose happened with the sudden appearance of Abbott Cellach. A second incident took place inside the Scriptorium under less inhibiting conditions, wherein Brendan begins to unleash his hidden talents. The small homage contained within the flicking of the feathers actually achieves a certain momentousness of its own, considering the beauty of the visuals that is throughout the film.
Saying "Please" Leads to Greater Things ~ The film does have some morals to teach to children. These can mostly be found in the first half of the film. Amongst these are saying "Welcome" to visitors (politeness), being honest to elders, standing to what is right, consequences like Brendan falling off the scaffolding, and being found out of lying (climbing a bush). However, what I found of more import was Brendan's encounter with Pangur Bán inside the Scriptorium. The two had earlier started on the wrong foot. On the night of Aidan's arrival to Kells, Brendan goes into the Scriptorium to steal a glance at the Book which mystified him; and of course, Pangur was there to stop him. Brendan then apologises for his actions, finally saying, "Please." This led to Pangur softening her stance on Brendan, and the two finally become friends. This incident might not have achieved a second level of meaning unless you realise that Pangur later was instrumental in Brendan's attempt to capture the Eye of Crom; and thus, in finishing the Book of Kells.
The Abbott's Tower and the Walls of Kells ~ The film curiously has something to say about the tight grip of Religion. The tower is a symbol of the Abbott's hardheadedness; and the walls, perhaps, as the misguidedness of proselytising. But then again, considering that it was St. Patrick who converted all of Ireland, this assertion looks to contradict itself. Perhaps the Abbott's well-intentioned grip was just too tight? Or maybe Religion has lost its way? This latter interpretation is valid because the film briefly touches on issues of nepotism and dispute within the ranks.
Man as Menace vs. Love of Nature ~ This is one of the more prominent themes in "Kells." Aisling is unhappy about anyone encroaching on her forest. Morever, when she rescues Brendan from the tower, we see her cringing in fear at the dark settlements and the stone cross across the yard. What a curious reaction for a spirit of the forest. But in fact, these are just some of the thematic parts that point to the film's larger stance on (wayward) Religion and Man's destructive nature. A nice counterbalance to this is achieved in an earlier scene where Aidan said, "If my brothers were here now, they would tell you that you learn more in the woods, from trees and rocks, than in any other place. You will see miracles... ." This innocent remark by a kindly monk encapsulates the film's theme of love and appreciation for Nature. Later on, we see Brendan and Aisling roam the forest in search of oak berries to use for ink; stopping by to look at beetles, and passing through sleeping owls and a sea of butterflies. Certainly one of the more joyous moments before the film turned dark.
Aisling and Pangur Bán ~ I love this part. Have you ever wondered why Aisling was singing that song of Pangur Ban? Let us retrace to an earlier scene, the one where Brendan snuck into the Scriptorium to steal a glance into the Book of Iona; and Pangur was there to stop him. There was a quick moment when Pangur's shadow seemed to lunge outward and take on the form of a primordial beast, with the Eye of Crom instantly flashing. Weird, huh? Well, the film gives its animal constituency zoomorphic qualities in line with mythical themes. From the salmon, to the deer, to the wolves and Pangur, they are more or less imbued with supernatural qualities. This says a lot about man's early fear and adoration of beasts in the wild, which most likely led to their worship. Of course, as we grew in logic, we also shed those superstitious apprehensions that we once had. Beliefs and sentiments change over time, and the "Song of Pangur Ban" brilliantly captures this. "You must go where I cannot, Pangur Ban..." takes on new meaning, especially when you consider that the affectionate poem of "Pangur Bán" was written on a page of a scribal workbook in an Abbey; and that Pangur's spirit crept into the Abbott's room when he was asleep. The time of enlightenment has considerably diminished all those trepidations, and all that is left are fond sentiments; in this case, for a cat. (If alligators, snakes and scorpions are not your thing, then please exempt them from the list.) *This is a wholly Christian view, since other religions practise animal worship. Also, there's nothing really profound once you get to the bottom of it. But you have to hand it to the filmmakers for what they did, it's impressive how they were able to enrich the relevance of just a simple poem. I can't help but say, "Genius, Mr. Moore!"
Brendan's Victory over Crom ~ This is the central feature in the film. Bravery, gaining experience as an antidote to fear, standing up to what is right, and making invaluable friends.
Christianity and Paganism ~ If you've ever seen the Harry Potter series, then you must have noticed the students and faculty of Hogwarts celebrating Christmas. In truth, Christianity and Witchcraft cannot be made to sit on the same boat. One is (supposedly) antithesis to the other. This is why there are so many ecumenical controversies surrounding the so-called "bane" of Harry Potter. In "Kells," this kind of duplicitous dogma is ever more evident and comes to a full head with Brendan using the Eye of Crom to finish the Book of Kells. Think about it, symbols do not create real crystals. And never mind that Brendan is supposed to be an enlightened monk, and yet sees fairies, too. This is a very bold move for a film that is supposed to have Christian leanings, don't you think? As one of Roger Ebert's bloggers wrote, "...the story is the combination of folk tale and Christianity you (as far as I'm aware) only get in the Irish tradition." It is a mishmash of Christian and Pagan elements, you're likely to be disaffected by the inconsistency. However, you shouldn't be. The film is actually very straightforward about an issue that many in the Christian tradition seem to be unaware of, or turn a blind eye to: that the Christianity we know of does have pagan tie-ins, if not pagan origins! It's true. A short research on the observances of Christmas, Easter and Sunday will clarify this.
It helps to be enlightened, but enlightenment also requires that we look at our origins. "Brendan and the Secret of Kells" paid homage to true origins.
On Faith and Being Massacred Inside the Abbey ~ This is the darkest theme in the film. Even with Faith, bad things still happen. As the film progresses, we begin to suspect what the Vikings were really after. The clue was mentioned twice before but only in passing. These black cardboard figures actually have intent behind them, and they were looking to smoke someone out. After the successful battery on the gates, we see the Vikings head to the Abbey and the Scriptorium. Notice how the monks inside the Abbey are gathered together at the front, with the way directly leading up to them open, whilst all the frightened civilians are huddled at the sides. Of course, after the cover of the Book was taken, the Vikings leave the villagers behind, in PEACE!! Happily, though, not all.
Aisling's (Last) Appearance as a Wolf - Where Reality Meets Fantasy ~ This segment is certainly one of the most poignant parts of the film. With one fell swoop, "Kells" tackled Brendan's coming-of-age with the same efficiency as other similar films that expound lengthly like bildungsroman. This segment also delineates perfectly, after the mishmash of Christian and Pagan elements, the point where Reality meets Fantasy. Here is where you feel that the film does not wear its sentiments on its sleeves. If you have not been following closely, you will likely lose the significance of the scene, and even consider it ridiculous and purposeless. The segment I refer to is immediately after the cover of the Book is torn in the forest. As Aidan and Brendan were picking up the pages, one of the pages flew deeper into the forest. Giving chase, Brendan suddenly meets Aisling. But she is in her animal form. Why? Soon after, we understand the reason with the appearance of Aidan. Now let us fast forward to a few years later. A grown Brendan (with beard, no less!) reappears in the forest, on his way to Kells. There, Aisling and our hero meet again, as if on a lovers' rendezvous. But like the last time, she remains a wolf (listen to the lullaby music of Bruno Coulais). This is a truly poignant and touching moment. They gaze at one another, neither of them uttering a sound, and then Brendan tries to touch her. She scampers away at this gesture, and Brendan gives chase. He chases her through the woods and through the mound where they first met. Afterwards, he seems to have lost her, and he calls out her name once. The wolf Aisling is waiting at the clearing where the ruined walls of Kells can still be seen standing. Brendan calls out Aisling's name the second time.
The Abbott's Tower at the End ~ Here is where you may feel that the film is selling its sentiments cheaply. But in fact, the film makes a discernible effort to "sizzle the schmaltz into vapor." Let us go to the sequence in the tower near the end. That Brendan and his uncle are fated to have a touching, touching reunion is already a certainty. Why, they even raised the clouds to let sunlight in, given the filmmakers' proclivity for symbolism. However, the impact brought about by the touching reunion and the sunlight is largely dampened by Brendan's seemingly inert reaction. This is a very conscious and calculated choice on the part of the filmmakers, but one that is not thoroughly irrational. This works two ways:
1.) So as to avoid having the film completely fall into saccharine pits, what the filmmakers instead give us is a sense of the depth of Brendan's feelings, without having him shed a tear. See how he clasps his uncle's hands twice. See, also, how he goes to the open window (now a symbol of openness) and looks up to Heaven, again twice. These two small instances say a lot about what is going on inside Brendan at the moment.
2.) All this is actually only a preparatory sequence to give way to a more powerful climax.
Dark and Light ~ The Abbott Cellach was wounded considerably during the Viking attack and seems to be on the brink of death. Now to be frank, I was quite bemused when Tang (his assistant) told him to get up because he IS the Abbott. Had the Abbott been alive today, democratic processes will ensure he gets harsh punishment for his incompetence. But as the story would have it, this is not to be. This reminded me of a great film by Akira Kurosawa, "The Seven Samurai." The villagers in that film were also victims of the plunderings of bandits. There simply was no central government to protect them; and so a leader had to stand up.
To move on, we see the Abbott years later in his tower, and he has become a shadow of his former self. We then hear him talk about the unfinished work that must be done. We also hear him regret his foolishness and misguidedness (as one of the brothers put it, "crazy wall"). Brendan then reappears, rebonds with his uncle, and finally tells him that the Book has now been completed. Afterwards, the Abbott sheds tears as he sees the motifs and animals inside the Chi Rho Page come alive. He is proud of his nephew, and we are proud of Brendan as well. The intensity of that scene alone packs a certain power likely to have you reaching out for your hanky. I would imagine, too, that for the Irish, they would be proud seeing their heritage come alive on screen. (Actually, we non-Irish feel that pride as well, because we have come to care for the characters.)
But, as I have explained earlier, the film has a tendency to hide its more important sentiments. They remain largely unspoken; and this is most true of the ending. Considering the state of the Abbott, it is only logical to assume that he has been carrying the heavy burden of guilt throughout the years. After all, it was his hardheadedness and foolish assessments which led to the loss of many lives, including those of his brethren. The years may have washed some of that guilt away, as the people began to look to him again. But as we know, guilt does not go away that easily. They lurk beneath the dark recesses of our psyche. When the Abbott opens the finished Book of Iona, now called the Book of Kells, we see the pages glow. This is a very pivotal scene which hints at what the film is actually going for. It's easy to miss without the context of an earlier scene.
So what is the Book of Kells? Up until now, the Book has largely remained in the background. It was all about drawing beautiful images and nothing else. In an earlier scene, we see the brothers in the Scriptorium expound on the Book by saying, "...his writings (Colum Cille's) are said to glow from the pages as though they are light. Sinners have been blinded by glancing upon the pages..." This statement is quite funny because it hints of mysticism. But put in the context of the Abbott's situation, it becomes a symbolic instrument to balancing his guilt. Light casting out Dark. So the Book of Kells is actually a symbol of Forgiveness, and not just a source of cultural pride. Given that it is the Four Gospels of the Bible, which deal with the life and teachings of Jesus, this really isn't hard to conceive..
Lastly, the final message's concealed nature may serve best to its interest. This is because it has a decidedly Christian bent. I, on the other hand, thought this was noble of the filmmakers. If secrets remain hidden, then it is only the film's own, and therefore cannot offend.
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