Silent Light
Dir: Carlos Reygadas
Rating: 1.5
Palisades Pictures
136 Minutes
Now I know what the world will be like if the pods from The Invasion of the Body Snatchers are allowed to reach maturation and take over. Everyone will be, in essence, sleepwalking, sleepthinking and sleeptalking — just like all the characters in this ridiculously slow paced film. If you have two hours and 16 minutes to kill, then bring some food and water and buy a ticket to Silent Light. Written and directed by Carlos Reygadas, Silent Light is the most silent of films since sound was introduced, except for the breathtaking initial and final six minutes of camera and sound work that reflect the slow miracle of our earth awakening and sliding into slumber with the musical twitter of crickets and birds, and the baying of livestock
Reygadas’ penchant for tapping into the considerable talent of non-actors was again realized in this film, although in two-dimensional form. This population was the most bland group I have ever encountered. Set in a tiny village outside of Chihuahua, Mexico, we are introduced to a Mennonite family “existing” in a farming community. The father, Johan (Cornelio Wall) is having an affair with Marianne (Maria Pankratz) who works in an ice cream parlor. Johan’s wife, Esther (Elisabeth Fehr) is fully aware of these dirty deeds, but shows no emotion until late in the movie when she bites the rain soaked dust. The funniest part of this painful film was watching Esther come back to life while lying at her wake in her coffin. After she realizes that she was dead and now alive, she continues to lay in the coffin conversing with her children. C-r-a-z-y. I tried with all my might not to guffaw.
To say that the dialogue is painful and empty is an incredible understatement. In one scene, Johan visits his father to tell him about the affair and to get advice. After looking at each other for about two minutes, Johan says something like: “I am in love with another woman.” Camera pans to Pop who sits there for about three minutes before responding, “You’re joking.” They then go outside to talk (another 10 minutes to hear three lines — I may be exaggerating here, but not by much). And when they pass through the door Johan and his father are crunching on tons of snow — when did this happen? The previous scenes were dry, arid Mexico showing the family swimming outdoors, but now the ground is covered with snow. The scenes that follow this scene take us right back to dry, hot Mexico. All this without any indication of the passage of time — other than the excruciatingly slow direction, which actually felt like the passage of one year.
Although Johan displayed a few moments of passion and one moment of exhilaration, the flat affect of this film made it a snoozer. If Silent Light was a sandwich, the bread is made of 15 grain, honeyed whole wheat, but the inside is a thin layer of tasteless lettuce.
by Jane Hruska
