Review: A Quiet Place Lives Up to Its Hype (and Its Name)
I’m not ashamed to admit I was very apprehensive about seeing A Quiet Place. Horror has never really been my thing, and not even Jim Halpert and his incredible real-life wife could lure me in, not when the trailer snippets consisted of shrieking noises and Emily Blunt sobbing in a bathtub. Yet, due to a cavalcade of critical acclaim, glowing reviews from my friends, peer pressure from my girlfriend, and the aforementioned Halpert Factor, I found myself at a Sunday matinee screening.
It wasn’t my ideal plan for a sunny weekend afternoon, but I sure ended up glad I was dragged along.
Perhaps the foremost reason I was able to survive Quiet Place (unlike [SPOILER ALERT REDACTED]) was because defining it as a Horror film is slightly off-base. It’s more of a Thriller, really, and one probably unlike any thriller you’ve seen.
If the millions of reviews stating this didn’t give this away, the title did: the star of this film is silence. John Krasinski, in his directorial debut, does a marvelous job of creating tension not through sound, a la horror movies of old, but through absence of it. It’s not exaggerating to say probably 80% of the film is quiet, even mute, and that feature is so noticeable that even the smallest sound is jarring.
It’s so jarring, of course, because of the central plot: in a not-so-distant apocalyptic future, monsters/ghouls/beasts/what-have-you are terrorizing this rural America setting (though it’s presumed their reign is nationwide, if not more vast), attracted to…sound. Yes, seemingly all their other senses— sight and smell certainly— are absent, but their literally otherworldly ears help them seek and eviscerate anyone, or anything, that makes an audible noise.
Speaking of those ears, the film doesn’t indulge too much in fascinating or disgusting you with the creatures themselves; when they are finally revealed in full, most of the lasting shots feature their expansive ear orifices, from canal to Eustachian tube (yeah, I used Google). A Quiet Place doesn’t overly indulge in anything, though, and that’s one of the beautiful aspects of it. Neither Krasinski nor writers Scott Beck and Bryan Woods care to put you to sleep by dragging out the silence-laden plot, or lose your interest— or lunch — with games of “How absurd can we make this? How gross and creepy can we make this?” It’s a tense ride, undoubtedly, but it’s a short, tense ride.
There are complaints to be had, maybe, about the movie. You don’t have to dig too much to recognize somewhat obvious plot holes. The creatures themselves seem more like a crossbreed of Ridley Scott’s Alien and the demigorgons of Stranger Things than a truly original creation.
But these are surely complaints so minuscule when compared to Quiet Place’s strengths that it bears questioning whether such complaints are even necessary. Look at the brilliant acting, from Krasinski and Blunt as the parents, but also a wonderfully sweet and wide-eyed performance from Noah Jupe, their brave youngest son, and a dynamic and revelatory performance from young deaf actress Millicent Simmonds. Look at the underlying themes of love and sacrifice; it very well could be attributed to my heightened emotions throughout, but I’m not afraid to admit I cried more than once at certain climactic scenes. Look at the ending, so impactful and encouraging without actually giving the audience the satisfaction of a closed loop.
Yes, A Quiet Place is a movie with a stunningly deep amount of heart. And in this increasingly loud and cynical World, heavy doses of heart and silence are welcome.