One of my favorite quotes goes, "God answers all prayers, but
sometimes his answer is no." Granted, I first read it in an issue of
Uncanny X-Men, but the sentiment is the same. It addresses God's silence in the
wake of horrible hardship. We've often asked ourselves why God doesn't step in
when there is so much suffering, often in his name. How deafening must that
silence be to those who have committed their lives utterly to the faith? How
crippling can that sense of abandonment be?
Martin Scorsese
explores these questions with depth and purpose in Silence, an adaptation of
Shusaku Endo's 1966 novel, which was previously adapted into an austere 1971
movie. The director's epic 30-year journey to make this film a reality shows
his level of commitment to the material, a punishing walk through the heart of
darkness and man's spiritual frailty. This is not an easy watch, but then it
probably shouldn't be. Andrew Garfield and Adam Driver are 17th-century Jesuit
priests Rodrigues and Garrpe, who go against the wishes of their church and
venture off to Japan, which is killing Christians by the thousands. Their
mission is to find their mentor, Father Ferreira (Liam Neeson), who preceded
them there and may have renounced his faith. In a misty, fog-filled prelude we
see Fereira and his struggles while others of faith are tortured in a most
grisly fashion.
Compared to the
Hollywood sizzle of his most recent work, Scorsese seems eager to take on a
stricter tale of spiritual dilemma. Silence, earning its title
with a bare minimum of musical accompaniment, opens and closes with the
buzzing, vibrant sounds of nature. For it is said that God can be found in
nature, yet in Japan it's nature that transcends their belief in any other
spiritual force. There's great beauty to be found in Rodrigo Prieto's
cinematography, conjuring smoky jungle vistas that call back to Akira
Kurosawa's Rashomon, a
clear influence on Scorsese as well.
There's great
relief and suffering that the fathers bring with them. The renewable spring of
hope only serves to make the latter torment all the more unbearable, especially
for Rodrigues. The early part of the film concerns their secretive
attempts to sneak into the villages to find other Christians, who must worship
in secret lest they be discovered by notorious Inspector Inoue (Issey Ogata). They
are introduced to the mangy-haired, drunken reprobate Kichijiro (Yosuke
Kubozuka), who is both comic relief and spiritual foil for Rodrigues at every
turn.
The Japanese
go to brutal lengths to weed out any Christians in their midst, led by the
notorious Inspector Inoue (Issey Ogata), who forces them to literally step on
an image of Christ to denounce their faith. If the first half of the movie is
Rodrigues and Gaarpe observing the strength of others, the second half puts the
full weight of their burden on display, and is far more interesting as a
result. Rodrigues is eventually faced with a terrible choice that drives the
most complex, doctrinal part of the film. He can either become an apostate by
denouncing Christianity publicly, or he can hold firm while others are tortured
and killed right in front of him. How long can anyone cling to God's hope in
the face of such horrible suffering, which Scorsese depicts in stark, cold fashion?
This is a gruesome film in a lot of ways, but thankfully it isn't as enthusiastically
violent as The Passion of the
Christ or brazen as
Scorsese's The Last
Temptation of Christ. Clocking in at 160 minutes, it can be a trying
experience, made tougher by frequent stretches of monotony.
The strength of
Scorsese's convictions carries Silence through its weakest stretches, and
you can sense the weight being lifted off his shoulders completing his greatest
passion project. With help from Garfield and Driver's exhaustive
performances, Scorsese forces us to feel the weight of their spiritual burden,
so that we must ask if any of us would be worthy of carrying it.
Rating: 3.5 out of 5
