“I pray but I am lost. Am I just praying to silence?”
For decades Martin Scorsese has been pushing the limits of the cinematic medium through evocative styling and directorial decisions as a channel for storytelling – so perhaps it’s telling that one of his greatest achievements is his new film, the understated, brooding, minimalistic Silence.
In the 1630s, news reaches St Paul’s College, Macau that Cristóvão Ferreira (Liam Neeson), a Portuguese Jesuit who had helped bring Christianity to the people of Japan, has renounced his faith after being tortured in the anti-Christian purges of Japan. Two of Ferreira’s devout pupils, Father Sebastião Rodrigues (Andrew Garfield) and Francisco Garupe (Adam Driver) cannot believe that their mentor would commit apostasy and set out on a three year long journey to find him.
With the help of an alcoholic fisherman, Kichijiro (Yôsuke Kubozuka) the priests reach Japan and land at Tomogi, a small village with a secret Christian population to which the priests administer the sacrament. Soon however a band of Samurais led by “The Inquisitor” (Issei Ogata) arrive in the village, looking to flush out Christianity from the land and are after the Jesuit priests. Meanwhile, the fate of Father Ferreira remains a mystery.
With Silence, Scorsese strips away the directorial personality he’s built up over nearly fifty years of filmmaking. His camera is almost always static because the beauty and terror of what’s on-screen speaks for itself. The Kluge siblings score is practically non-existent, because like with a smattering of examples from Raging Bull, The Last Temptation of Christ, Goodfellas and The Departed, Scorsese’s use of silence is the most powerful sound. His co-authored screenplay doesn’t draw you in like some of his others, but is true to the novel, and aside from a smaller than you might expect role from Liam Neeson, his frequent collaborators are nowhere to be seen. What hasn’t changed is his undying passion and dedication to storytelling. Twenty-five plus years of research, understanding and maturity went into the creation of this, one of his most impressive films to date.
To suggest however that Silence isn’t cinematic would be an injustice to DoP Rodrigo Prieto’s work and would gloss over one of the crucial elements that ties Silence together. With a distinctly minimalist look and feel, the character of the landscape is as mysterious and unforgiving as the inquisitor himself. If Raging Bull is Scorsese’s most physical portrayal of the harsh realities of the body, then Silence is his most visceral representation of how abusively all-encompassing nature can be, and is central to the films depiction of the direct correlation between Buddhist beliefs and the environment – a determinate factor in the fate of the Christian communities living under such intense persecution.
Indeed the core focus of the film is to find some sort of reconciliation between the ancient undying beliefs held in 17th Century Japan and the influx of Christianity, a task simply impossible for the time with many indirect victims on both sides. Layered on top of that is the challenge for these priests and the persecuted population to maintain unwavering faith with no sign or manifestation from their deity; only silence. Where some films use cinematic technique to manipulate audiences, Silence simply lays down a narrative and lets the viewer draw meaning. Faith is cruel and unexplained, as is humanity, and it’s up to the audience to find some sort of answer or at the very least closure from that.
Ultimately though this is the story of one man’s crisis of faith. Garfield’s Rodrigues takes centre stage for the vast majority of the film and suffers immensely at the hands of a people trying to protect their dynasty from what they see as a spiritual pollutant. Rodrigues is torn between his search for answers in regards to Father Ferreira, a desire to peacefully serve the oppressed Christian Japanese, and personal spiritual uncertainties that have been brooding throughout his Mission. This is Andrew Garfield’s best performance to date, brimming with compassion, suffering and spiritual rumination. Driver is similarly fantastic, although as with Neeson his time on screen is limited compared to Garfield. Some of the best depictions come from the hugely talented Japanese cast. Yoshi Oida as the Elder of Tomogi, Shin'ya Tsukamoto - one of the oppressed villagers, and Issei Ogata as the horrific yet somehow serene Inquisitor are all superb in their roles.
Silence is an extremely rare example of elemental filmmaking that will have hugely varied effects on audience. It will enlighten some, bore others and destroy many. It trusts so deeply in its own material and the themes buried beneath that it’s willing to leave audiences with questions unanswered, perhaps to dig deeper if they can find themselves ever watching it again. It may not have the mainstream appeal of Wolf of Wall Street, but Silence is nevertheless, a masterpiece.
