A Still Small Voice

A very powerful film about a profession we don't think much about.

A tender portrait of an underseen group among a hospital’s many departments.

The holy water is in a Styrofoam cup. Somewhere, a door slams. It’s human and messy — and it’s divine.

A raw and lucid observational documentary about people whose life’s work is making space for death.

The film does a fine job of holding a mirror to the experience of therapeutic practice.



The lessons patients offer to Mati seem perhaps even more valuable than what she is able to offer to them, and the grace that flows off the screen is gutting.

Although sincere and well-crafted, the repetitive lethargy of A Still Small Voice would perform much better in a short art film, not a full-length feature.

A portrait of radical empathy practiced by chaplains in the pastoral care department of a New York hospital.

Lorentzen doesn't turn anyone into victims or heroes&#59; he merely observes, creating devastatingly beautiful tableaux that often highlight how impersonal death in America would be without people like Engel and Fleenor.

Lorentzen’s documentary is a survey of life, death, and care. Always truthful, never over-delivering. His film is a memorable work of care as nourishment, and he most definitely deserves some praise yet again.