I may be late to the party but I cannot deny the effect this masterpiece has on me. It's been almost a week but I haven't shrugged this feeling off me. The movie follows two Portuguese Jesuit priests who travel to Japan in the 17th century in an attempt to find their master, who is reported to have committed apostasy, and to spread Catholicism.
Silence speaks loudly. It's a call for religious equality. A protest against inequity. A slap in the face of European arrogance. Martin Scorsese's films were always about sin, penance, and self-sacrifice, even when they were about gangsters. They were all about redemption, even when they were about criminals. The dramatic, breathtaking Silence, on the other hand, dramatizes the persecution of Catholics in 17th-century Japan and places faith front and center.
It's a powerful and challenging film. Despite the fact that there are lots of places where Scorsese might have gone far with the gore, the scenes of torture are kept to a minimum. Instead, he concentrates his efforts on the hazy, surreal settings and the understated yet strong performances.
The picture begins with Liam Neeson's troubled, scared eyes as the missing Jesuit. But Adam Driver and Andrew Garfield, who play the two priests sent to save him, are as impressive. Driver has the gaunt look of a saint while Garfield is fantastic in a challenging part as a man who has no qualms about becoming a martyr but is torn between encouraging his flock to do the same.
It's the Asian character that really succeeds, particularly Issei Ogata as the Grand Inquisitor, who recognizes that the best way to hurt Garfield's priest is to make him question his beliefs rather than abuse his flesh.
I feel so tempted. I feel so tempted to despair. I'm afraid. The weight of your silence is terrible. I pray, but I'm lost. Or am I just praying to nothing? Nothing. Because you are not there.
There are some striking scenes here, such as ships drifting through the mist and a crude crucifixion by the sea. Scorsese's silent, hypnotizing procession of images isn't the spectacular cinema we witnessed in The Wolf of Wall Street, The Aviator, or even Hugo. Instead, Silence is a slow-burning, highly reflective film on self-questioning. It's all about challenging authority. It's about assessing where you've fallen short as a person and pondering how you may make restitution to yourself, others, and God.
After watching this film, I understand more clearly what Scorsese meant when he said Marvel movies weren't cinematic. It's not like I didn't understand before. I only understand it more deeply this time. Silence is art. Silence is a masterpiece. Silence is a wake-up call. Silence is an itch that will linger until you decide how to define art again.
SCORE: 5/5
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