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The theological issues Silence raises and the profound spiritual contemplation it inspires can’t be reduced to a couple of blurb-worthy phrases. However, if I could attempt the impossible and sum up this difficult, yet profoundly moving film, it would be this brief sentence:
“It’s not about you.”
That might sound obvious, but it’s a message that people of faith need to hear repeatedly because we forget it so often. I grew up as a church kid (Sunday school, youth camp, “True Love Waits” pledges, the whole deal), which means I heard endless accounts of horrifying religious persecution, both past and present, that took place around the globe.
It’s a well-intentioned way to teach kids who live privileged lives to take their faith seriously and understand that we are exceedingly fortunate to be born in a country that allows us to worship as we choose. However, because these narratives place such an emphasis on believers enduring unfathomable pain as proof of their devotion, the unintentional message some listeners take away is that we don’t really love Jesus unless we’re somehow punished for it.
Most of us have never experienced genuine consequences for our faith, so this leads to misguided souls looking for battles where they don’t exist. Some guy calling you a Bible-thumper at work or a well-meaning cashier wishing you “Happy Holidays” at the grocery store doesn’t count as being punished for your beliefs, no matter how many opportunistic politicians or talk radio hosts argue otherwise.
Besides, even if those scenarios play out, they present Christians with an opportunity to emulate Jesus’ loving nature. Instead, some would rather feed their resentment, escalate an already pointless culture war or escape into cinematic revenge fantasies where a vengeful God sends a car crash to punish an atheist college professor for being so smug and liberal.
Silence, Scorsese’s long-in-the-works passion project (no pun intended) based on Shusaku Endo’s 1966 novel, addresses this intersection of faith and pride in a far more subtle way. It poses thought-provoking questions without offering the glib answers we tend to fall back on (like the oft-cited but biblically inaccurate “God will never give you more than you can bear”) or ending with a tidy moral that leaves viewers feeling good about themselves as they leave the theater.
Although it’s easily one of the best movies ever made about Christianity and I cherish it as a deeply spiritual experience, it’s bound to be divisive – particularly the final act and the middle-management nature of the Japanese oppressors, who view Christianity as a pest control problem rather than a powerful force that must be extinguished. The screenplay, credited to Scorsese and Jay Cocks, isn’t afraid to depict the real world implications of firmly held beliefs or question the protagonists’ motives, as well-intentioned as they seem.
When viewers first meet Rodrigues (Garfield) and Garrpe (Driver), there’s a clear sense that these goodhearted, naïve priests view their mission to discover if the missing Ferreira (Neeson) has truly renounced God as some kind of hero’s journey. They are aware that Japanese Christians are being murdered by the thousands, but their minds can’t comprehend the horrific actuality.
Once they witness these atrocities firsthand, it briefly seems like the remainder of Silence will unfold as yet another of those martyr stories I heard at youth camp. Will the priests be discovered? If so, will their faith in Christ be strong enough to withstand their oppressors’ fanatical torture?
But remember what I said earlier: “It’s not about you.”
Scorsese has different questions in mind. What if that dogged insistence on enduring persecution becomes a prideful act rather than devotion? What if renouncing God was seen as perfunctory by your oppressors and you didn’t even have to mean it?
What if you could place your foot gently on a metallic picture of Jesus and you were free to go? I mean, if we’re getting into theological technicalities, that’s literally a graven image – doesn’t God warn us against placing our faith in those anyway?
Most horrific of all: what if your refusal to apostatize led not to your own demise, but being forced to watch others endure slow, gruesome deaths in your place? What would Christ say about that? Again, there are no facile, Sunday school-ready solutions in an environment where any choice you make comes with unfathomable consequences.
Even when the movie’s attempt at an answer does come, viewers are left to decide for themselves if the character’s actions are truly God-ordained or if that’s simply his way of justifying his course of action. Silence is one of the rare Christian-themed films that forces you to truly examine your beliefs rather than simply reaffirms them. That will prove too much for some viewers, as will the deliberately paced 161-minute running time. However, it’s not all despair and misery.
Believe it or not, the film is also surprisingly funny in places; it’s masterfully directed by Scorsese, who incorporates brilliant biblical allusions throughout; Rodrigo Prieto’s cinematography is stunning; Garfield delivers career-best work; and there’s a revelatory performance from Yosuke Kubozuka, who initially seems to be playing a Judas figure but turns out to reflect an altogether different biblical character. Those who choose to embark on (or endure, depending on your perspective) this journey with Scorsese may find themselves different people at the end of it.
Silence is rated R for some disturbing violent content. Now playing in limited release, but opening wider throughout January.
Grade: A-
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