Silence (2016) review - Movie Thoughts (Chapter 27) 🙇

Hello everyone,

Today's film was a giant frustration. I'm so sorry to all the classic or 'real' film lovers out there, I've come to the realisation that I don't like a lot of the big-names. Quentin Tarantino; it's a no from me. Woody Allen; certainly not for a number of reasons. But the most relevant to this post is Martin Scorsese. His stuff is not for me, no matter what intellectual level he's working on. I've seen The Wolf of Wall Street and that was an alarmingly excessive hot mess, and I have serious issues with Silence for very different reasons. I love reading about religion and the concept of faith fascinates me, but even this film was a lot....

(**disclaimer: the following thoughts are 100% my opinion, you do not have to agree with them - film is inherently subjective and everyone's perspective is valid! Also, there are probably spoilers in the following, read at your own risk. Now onto some thoughts....**)

(**quick 2nd disclaimer: I did not intend to write a mini-thesis with this one, but I had a lot of weird thoughts and didn't really want to edit them down at 2am. I liked that this was more of an essay than just a run-of-the-mill review. I shall keep it shorter in the future, I promise....**)

Source: IMDB

A Martin Scorsese passion project fifteen years in the making culminated in an ambitious and often frustrating epic religious drama. In the 17^th Century, two Jesuit priests travel from Portugal to Japan in order to find their missing mentor who was rumoured to have committed apostasy, and to revive Christianity in Japan. The next work in Scorsese’s filmography after controversial dog’s breakfast The Wolf of Wall Street (2013) that couldn’t be more tonally chalk and cheese if he tried, there were fragments of excellent filmmaking drowned out by too many disappointing pacing issues and an overall demeanour that fell nowhere near a memorable legacy.

A curious use of sound, sound effects, voiceover and ‘silence’ was a uniquely excellent choice. Relying on the sounds of nature with sparse non-diegetic music created an unsettling ambience within the Japanese landscape and a dash of baron realness to what could seem to be unbelievably cruel events. The opening scene laid down the right amount of context to intrigue audiences and established the stakes from which the narrative would grow. Father Ferreira (Liam Neeson)’s letter was poignantly written and delivered in an echoey voiceover; accompanied by the upfront shock of the horrific Christian persecution that had been gaining steam for twenty years. Everything worked well together, and the early POV shots in a crowded Portuguese market also showed early promise for creatively presenting the two young priests’ perspective. This impulse would be disappointing, but there were genuine pockets of strong visual construction that encapsulated an earthy aesthetic filled with shadows and violence.

There were also flashes of decent writing scattered throughout a largely uninspired script. Father Rodrigues’ (Andrew Garfield) internal monologues and the voiceover letters to his colleagues in Portugal cemented his perspective on proceedings and held some of the most compelling dialogue where a viewer could simply see how he grappled with what he saw and experienced. The soil and tree metaphor was a clever vessel to succinctly explain what Scorsese had been trying to discuss visually in earlier sections about the clash of faiths in Japan and the reality of Christianity’s future in a country vehemently ruled by Buddhists. A curious use of metaphor comparing missionary work to an ‘ugly woman’ was also intriguing food for thought. Ferreira’s words at the temple were sobering for Rodrigues and one of the best written scene in 2 hours. Well-structured arguments frosted with desperation and disbelief from Garfield’s broken facial expressions.

The journeys of the Japanese characters held strong notes of conviction and despair; ultimately conveying the intended pathos that made this story special. There was an unequivocal desperation to every choice and every action the villagers had to make to stay hidden and safe from torture; and the death of elder Mokichi (Shin’ya Tsukamoto) was one of the most heartbreaking moments in the film because of his sacrifice for his village. Troubled guide Kichijiro (Yosuke Kubozuka) was plagued by distressing and erratic behaviour as he grappled with his own faith and continually asking for confession from Rodrigues.

On the other side of the coin, the persecutors were mysterious and formidable villains. Although Inquisitor Inoue (Issei Ogata) was seemingly old and frail, his wit and appetite for breaking Christianity in Japan was razor sharp. The Interpreter (Tadanobu Asano) was just as deadly and venomous in his increasingly vicious attacks on Rodrigues. Both were brazenly honest and cutting; possessed by some of Scorsese and Cocks’ most compelling and thought-provoking dialogue despite its anti-Christian inclination.

For all these robust and passionate elements, there were plenty of issues that soured much of the narrative and it’s ability to reach any level above mediocre; the biggest of which were the pacing issues. Everything moved agonisingly slow. Rather than truly enthralling audiences in the action and using the snail’s pace in a meaningful way, it quickly created a disconnect intertwined with boredom over wit. It moved like sludge and wasn’t helped by a convoluted plot; aimlessly wandering around a series of events strung together with wordy introspection that barely hit their targets. It was clear Scorsese and co-writer Jay Cocks believed what they were discussing in an immensely wordy screenplay, but it came off caught in its own unanswerable questions and grim snapshot of persecution. The Japanese always had the answers, the powerplays, another appalling torture technique, total control. At no point does the balance between the power of the enemy and the willpower of the protagonists ever feel like there’s a chance the status quo could be overturned.

Horrific scenes like the drowning of Father Garupe (Adam Driver) should be shocking turning points, and the way Scorsese shot this sequence was dynamic with the short lived misdirect of a potential early reunion with Ferreira. The reality was it lacked the emotional gut punch despite the obvious cues of Garfield’s tears and Driver’s desperation. Something didn’t click into place enough to cut through the fatigue of a dragging film. It took two hours to finally find Neeson (cheeky Taken reference aside) and the ‘unthinkable’ was true: he had crossed over and embraced the Japanese viewpoint. That scene was an intense climactic moment successfully shot to boost that tension, but that flash of great work made the slow build-up all the more frustrating. While a Dutch trader took over the voiceover as Rodrigues and Ferreira lived in Japan as ‘fallen’ priests, the meandering pace returned in full force and much of the last thirty minutes was unnecessarily drawn out.

A laborious and testing love letter to Christianity clumsily explored faith and rebelling against the immoveable brick wall of Samurai Buddhism. Consistently graphic and violently torturous, atrocity after atrocity lost its gut punch energy after a while. Garfield and Driver were both capable dramatic connoisseurs, yet their wonky European accents threatened to derail any kind of investment. It was a story that belonged Garfield’s Rodrigues, who had gone through the ringer by the credits; whilst Driver’s Garupe was fine but somewhat underused and seemingly relegated to a tragic memory.

A passion project that ultimately was just that: dripping passion and intent, but lacked important merit. Punishing in violent spectacle and deep theological musing, it took forty-two producers to get this Shusaku Endo novel to the silver screen with a flawed final product.

6/10, 2.5 STARS

Thanks for reading,

Love and figuring out your faith for yourself, Emily 🙇