A 161 minute long film about 17th century Jesuit priests facing torture and persecution in Japan hardly sounds like a fun movie. And it isn't fun, like, at all. I happily give my readers permission not to skip this one. Read the novel, by Shusako Endo instead. It's shorter!
But for those out there who have some sort of relationship to Christianity/religion, whether you are devout, middling, or militantly atheistic, it's worth the watch merely for the food for thought. It asks the question: is the path to God through rigidity and refusal to back down, or through flexibility and mercy?
Silence is a pretty relevant story for 2017. The United States is entering a period where the powers that be are taking on a more isolationist, exclusive approach to foreign policy. Just today, "President" Trump signed an executive order suspending admission of nationals from "terror-prone" countries to the United States. One of those countries is Syria, which means we can't admit refugees fleeing from their own government.
Many citizens, including practicing Christians, see this as a positive. A way to protect our lives and liberties. But what's interesting is that during centuries past, including the time period in this film, Christians traveled the world spreading the gospel. Even when they we're welcome by the powers that be.
So, on one level, Silence is, as a friend of mine put it, an "anti-colonialist piece". It challenges the narrative that white people from Europe saved and civilized people in foreign countries. Although Fathers Ferreria (Liam Neeson), Garupe (Adam Driver), and Rodrigues (Andrew Garfield), do in fact have very devout Japanese followers and are ecstatic when Garupe and Rodrigues show up (to find Ferreria, who, rumor has it, apostatized and lives "as a Japanese" now), their leaders are determined to wipe Christianity out of Japan. During many conversations between Rodrigues and Head Inquisitor Inoue (Issei Ogata), the gentle-seeming old man with a heart of iron explains that Christianity is a barren tree which can bear no fruit in Japan. Rodrigues argues that this is because the leaders of Japan have forcibly ripped Christianity up by the roots.
Who is right? Perhaps both men. As an individual with a Western mindset, I tended to air on the side of the priests who, with their own eyes, see the gratefulness of the rural poor Japanese who have found solace in their new religion. In my mind, I'm like "they clearly want this religion in their lives. Who are the leaders to force them to abandon it?". But that's an American, individualistic mindset.
The film remains coy about which culture's side it takes, though the final scene gives a hint as to where director Scorsese's heart lies. But the point of this film isn't whether Christianity or Buddhism "wins", it's to explore the complexities faith and culture.
In addition to the film's meditations on colonialism and proselytization, Silence also asks Christians difficult questions about what it means to have faith and be merciful. Young, arrogant Fathers Rodrigues and Garupe enter Japan fearful, but fully willing to be tortured and die for their faith. Inquisitor Inoue is onto this, and so he raises the stakes of the game: he will torture other people--innocents taken from their homes, and who have already renounced Christianity--until the Fathers apostatize. It's diabolical--and it's very smart. Inoue knows that Japanese Christians are already willing to die for their faith, but if they see a priest--a man close to God--deny HIS faith, they are more likely to give up this foreign religion.
Spoilers below:
Two scenes show what happens when Garupe and Rodrigues are put to the test. When Garupe refuses to trample (place his foot on) the fumie (a plaque with an image of Jesus or Mary on it), Japanese converts who have already renounced Christianity are drowned in the sea--and Garupe follows, desperately trying to save them and drowning himself in the process.
Later, after countless conversations with Inoue, Rodrigues finally meets Fererria, who has indeed renounced his faith (to save suffering converts) and has taken a Japanese wife and works for Inoue now. Rodrigues is outraged, but when he is faced with a group of converts suffering a torture known as "the pit", in which slits are made behind their ears and they are bound upside down so that they slowly bleed out, Rodrigues is forced to make a choice: trample the fumie or let these people suffer for days until they die. It's not fair, but it's the choice he's given. As Fererria tells him, "You are about to commit the most painful act of love".
The title Silence refers to Rodrigues' (portrayed with an intensity and soulfulness by Garfield) relationship to God. He is on fire with faith, but as he sees more and more suffering and prays harder and harder, he begins to feel an overwhelming sense of aloneness. "Am I praying to silence?" he asks. It is only when he is about the trample the fumie that God finally breaks the silence, saying (and I'm quoting from the novel the film is based on because I couldn't find an accurate quote from the film):
You may trample. You may trample. I more than anyone know of the pain in your foot. You may trample. It was to be trampled on by men that I was born into this world. It was to share men's pain that I carried my cross.
Now, I'm not the most religious person in the world, but that hit me right in the feels. THAT is Christianity. No judgement. No condemnation for failing to "follow the rules". Simply peace and love that passes understanding from our Wonderful Counselor.
That our human suffering might, in fact, be meaningless. That martyrdom might, in fact, be an act of supreme arrogance. That the best evangelism might be mercy and understanding, not conversion. This is a hard pill for many Christians to swallow because it's saying "You aren't in control. You don't decide. And your attempts to bend others' faith to your will is wrong."
I feel that this message is something Christians in America need to hear now more than ever. Hell, it's something I needed to hear, because my faith has always been an angry, tenuous faith. Y'all, I tend to loathe other Christians (not all, I have some amazing, truly loving Christian friends and family members). I look at them and I see a selectiveness. A willingness to bend the rules for their own sake, but not for others (people who have sex outside of marriage but are against gay marriage, for example). I see massive amounts of condescension ("Oh, I'll pray for you." No thanks! I don't want your passive-aggressive, masturbatory prayer!).
But all those things I see in others (and the anger and cynicism I see in myself), are simply the human condition. Humans aren't good, and they certainly aren't perfect. They're self-serving and fearful: just look at who we elected. Our own cowardice (even those who didn't vote for Pussy Grabber in Chief) brought us to this. We are only human.
So, to avoid going off the rails here, Silence is a compelling film on a philosophical and theological level. It's bound to piss people off, just as Scorsese's earlier film, The Last Temptation of Christ, caused boycotts and riots. Interestingly, both films portray--to greater or lesser extents--Christ as human. In Last Temptation, Christ is tempted by the promise of a normal life. In Silence he whispers to Rodrigues that He was born to earth to understand man's suffering. How radical, making the divine just like us--weak, fearful, small--so that He can love us all the more.
There seem to be two lines of thought regarding Christianity that I see playing out these days: the tough love, letter of the law attitude. "We can't celebrate or normalize sin!" they cry (as they sin). "I have the real truth!" they crow, smug in their knowledge that they'll be saved while those who disagree will burn.
And then there are the people who are willing to admit they they don't have all the answers. That look upon their own sin first. That believe it's more important to be kind than to be right. I like to aim for this second version, on the occasions I feel compelled to have faith (which I don't always have), though I often fail. And I know which side Silence takes.
Grade: B
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