Movie Jibber Jabber Vol. 2, No. 1: Silence

"Silence."

I've seen talk about “Silence” being a box-office failure, which is a shame. With any justice, this would be viewed as rapturously as “The Passion of the Christ” or treated with as much excitement as “Hacksaw Ridge.” At the least, it would garner equitable box office from Christian groups as, say, “God's Not Dead,” or any of the other fundamentalist pabulum released every so often for youth groups to lap up. But “Silence” is a movie about Christianity in a much deeper, more significant sense than any of those films; in fact, it challenges their basic premises with unnerving grace and intelligence.

I don't tend to identify with any particular faith, but I was born and raised in a traditionally upper-middle-class Protestant household. One side of my family is devout; the other isn't. Around my teens, I decided it simply wasn't for me; although I was, and continue to be, attracted to the stories, I found the social elements of religion to be not my thing. Nonetheless I have a continuing interest in the the essence of faith — the way religions develop and evolve over time, what they mean to most individuals and communities. I have always tended to find sensationalist New Atheism to be missing out on a tapestry of human experience as broad as it is deep. Likewise, I am tremendously put off by fundamentalist behavior. When I was studying anthropology in school, I liked to write about religion but I am also uncomfortable engaging with it in personal practice. Contemplating faith and its social function is one of my deepest interests.

Religion — broadly defined as a collection of beliefs that set order to the world — is the most essential form of human storytelling. Gods or not, creating and maintaining these beliefs has, across human history, allowed for cultures to move forward and navigate the neverending series of dire circumstances in which we find ourselves. Our own culture is becoming increasingly secularized, but that doesn't mean religion is irrelevant. To the contrary. Understanding the presence of religious faith — not the ins and outs of the faith but the whys and hows of those beliefs, how they develop, how they influence the way their followers live — allows us to properly contextualize the current social changes that are upon us.

“Silence” is a movie that guides us through the questions we now face about the role of religion as a both a social and personal experience without feeling the need to answer them for us. It is a story that clarifies without cementing, that sits with you long after the credits roll.

Based on the 1966 novel by Shusaku Endo, the movie tells the story of two Jesuit priests who travel to Japan during the nation's Christian purges of the 1630s and 1640s in search of their mentor, Father Ferreira (Liam Neeson), who is rumored to have renounced the faith in response to torture by the Japanese Inquisition. Father Rodrigues (Andrew Garfield, in a monumental performance) and Father Garupe (Adam Driver) are woven of different stuff. Rodrigues, with his long hair and beard, is all passion, persistence, idealism. Garupe is more hesitant and cautious. Neither believes Ferreira could have renounced his faith.

Soon enough Rodrigues has his faith tested. He meets lapsed converts such as Kichijiro (Yosuke Kubozuka), who renounces and asks for forgiveness countless times; he watches as those he converted and served are killed by the Inquisition; he comes face to face with the inquisitor Inoue Masashige himself (Issey Ogata), who, through both example and debate, questions and tests the young Priest’s faith. Masashige's ultimate goal is for Rodrigues to perform fumi-e, a ritual that involves stepping on the printed visage of Christ. “It's only a formality,” says the interpreter (Tadanobu Asano) who is charged with linguistically guiding Rodrigues through his peril. "It doesn't mean anything.”

Martyrdom is central to the Christian ethos, and it is through fumi-e that Rodrigues is denied the honor of dying in the name of his faith. But the questions raised in his conversations with Masashige and the interpreter question the very nature of that heroism, if it can be called that at all. If renouncing faith would save countless lives — in fact, if there are lives directly on the line — is it not more loving to save them rather than commit them to death for the sake of your faith? There's a simplicity in my phrasing that betrays the moral pageantry at work in “Silence.” This is a story we've seen countless times and in other movies that resolves itself in a way that lets the innocents live and establishes the faith in question as Truth. But 17th-century Japan was not a place where Christians could overcome, so what then? What of the frustrations experienced by priests when the translations of their faith were changed by Japanese culture? How did they deal with the fact that their choices, their doctrines were actually leading to violence against the very people who agreed to follow them, even if it was not their intent? And ultimately, what does it mean to be pious — does it it mean dressing like Christ and becoming beloved, does it mean dying to show your faith, or does it mean something more subtle, internal and personal?

“Silence” never suggests the missionaries are on an objectively righteous mission. The Church is put into its proper place as one of many social organizations vying for power in an era of Western colonialism and Eastern civil unrest. In giving the Church its proper place, director Martin Scorsese is better able to ask the question: What is faith when removed from all its trappings? What is it to be Christlike when you can no longer hear the voice of God? What if, in the end, you were wrong? What does that mean, and where does that take you?

At almost three hours, Scorsese certainly takes his sweet time examining these ideas. There is almost no soundtrack. Scenes last as long as they need to. There's a sense of repetition to the story — how many times must a man be tempted, cajoled and occasionally disturbed by bursts of violence? Nonetheless, I was riveted. This isn't like “Passion of the Christ,” which plays up the martyrdom aspect of Christianity to a perverse degree; the violence here is minimal and impactful. Conversation and contemplation push the movie along.

It's for that reason I can see why this may never enter the canon of popular religious films. Most stories — especially within religious faiths — work to enforce belonging and emotion rather than question it. A movie like “Hacksaw Ridge,” deeply perverted, reinforces the moral superiority of Desmond Doss (also played by Garfield) in his decision to remain a pacifist during combat while providing ample blood, guts and gore to really get the crowd going. It says nothing new or compelling about the redemptive qualities of faith — or what faith means when the social context is stripped away and brutalized.

To me, “Silence” is one of the very finest movies on faith made in recent years, and perhaps ever. It is so deeply contemplative, so fair-minded and empathetic that I could not get it out of my head, and still cannot. I've always found that movies are one of the most compelling forms of entertainment, but at times lack the intimacy of reading a good novel, in that it's rare to see a movie and feel like you've received a transmission from a singular voice who desperately wants to express something pure and meaningful about the way they see the world. Even rarer is to find a movie about Christianity and religion that manages to approach the subject so even-keeled. I say this with all the weight it entails: “Silence” is a masterpiece.