Silence nullifies you through viscerally stunning imagery and faithfully religious themes.

Rating: 8/10 (20 July 2018)

Many of you may know that I am not a massive fan of Scorsese unlike most aficionados. In addition, you may have acknowledged the fact that I also dislike long runtimes. Silence is, ironically, directed by Scorsese and boasts a 160 minute theatrical length. Much to my surprise, this was absolutely gorgeous. Two missionaries journey to Japan in search for their missing mentor who has been captured. The Shimabara Rebellion is an important event in religious history. The suppression of Roman Catholicism in 17th Century Japan, a religion deemed dangerous by high-ranking indigenous officials. Scorsese, along with Cocks' screenplay, managed to craft a thematic adaptation that encapsulates the utmost cinematic quality. Conveying the power of religious devotion without glorifying martyrdom was always a difficult task. Resorting to blood and violence would've been easy, yet Scorsese instead focused on the everlasting conflict in human nature. Rodrigues, played enigmatically by Garfield, is pure. Forever devoted to his faith and spreading his beliefs of Catholicism to the Japanese peasants. Even during ultimatums that could result in death, he remained defiant. But the relentless acts of torture and martyrs sacrificing themselves in the name of God started to taint his ideologies. Questioning the very existence of his religion. The visual storytelling and minimal dialogue eloquently hones in on the emotion of self-doubt. You can visualise the inner torment within these characters of having to renounce Christianity. Apostatising or disaffiliating one's self from faith feels like death in itself to these individuals. Utterly powerful. Driver and Neeson both act as valuable assets in personifying the power of religion, platforming Garfield to scenes of pure emotional vulnerability. The supporting Japanese cast all performed well, although certain translations may have needed subtitles due to the lack of clear pronunciation, was slightly difficult to articulate. Prieto's cinematography was spellbinding. The darkened blue nights to the vivid green forests all captured the aesthetic beauty of rural Japan. The absence of a musical score surprised me, and felt like a double-edged sword. It managed to enhance the tension, particularly during the long takes of peasants being strapped to wooden crosses waiting for the crashing waves of the sea to drain their remaining energy. But simultaneously it reduced the cinematic presence of the film. Emotional resonance was subdued to the lack of instrumentality, and I do view that as a flaw. A few minor criticisms here and there, but for a project that has nearly spanned two decades, Scorsese should be proud. A passion project that raises fundamental questions whilst also producing a coherently beautiful story. I was silenced throughout.