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Rather than a "review," each post features a collection of observations, intended primarily for people who've already seen the play. Check out the introduction post for more context.
A Quiet Place, director John Krasinski
In contrast to many contemporary films, A Quiet Place provides an astonishing lack of exposition, sparking immediate questions about the family and their situation. While ambiguity can provoke confusion or disengagement, A Quiet Place fosters a sense of sublime wonder, inviting viewers to imagine possible answers for the film’s unspoken details.
Film is a primarily visual medium, yet American movies place heavy emphasis on dialogue. A Quiet Place highlights the ability of production design to tell a story in efficient and elegant ways. So many of A Quiet Place’s little touches —the trail of sand, the newspaper walls, and the Monopoly gamepieces — develop our understanding of the characters and their world.
John Krasinski not only stars in A Quiet Place, but also co-wrote the script and directed the film. Wearing multiple artistic hats can lead to pure egocentrism or unchecked deficiencies (see: Lucas, George). With A Quiet Place, though, having one primary artistic creator perfectly suits the small cast (four actors, basically) and the brisk running time (90 minutes); the end result is a cohesive vision that blends the intimacy of the ensemble performers with the anxiety of the tense environment.
John Krasinski seems on track to follow the Kevin Kline Moustache Principle, with facial hair for serious films (A Quiet Place, 13 Hours) and a clean-shaven look for comedies and romances (The Office, License to Wed).
A Quiet Place completely changes the atmosphere of a movie theatre. In the film’s long stretches of silence, audience members develop a hyper-awareness of any and all noises: popcorn eating, quiet whispering, and seat shuffling. There’s also a profound feeling of resentment for anyone disrupting the auditorium (far beyond the normal wrath directed at bad theatre behaviour).
The inclusion of a deaf character adds significant texture to the film. For the audience, the use of sign language creates a barrier to communication, echoing the alienation experienced by Regan, the adolescent daughter. For the characters, the father-daughter relationship is shaped by the perceived limitations of deafness; he believes she requires extra levels of protection, thereby amplifying the angst of her teenage rebellion. In the bigger picture, A Quiet Place demonstrates a growing embrace for accessibility; Millicent Simmonds is a deaf actor and the film uses subtitles. If A Quiet Place can attract stellar reviews and box office returns, then hopefully major studies will give greater consideration to both dis/abled artists and assistive technologies.
I cannot recall seeing a movie that flooded me with so many questions about “what would I do in this situation?” From pragmatic concerns like sourcing food to philosophical thoughts about having a baby, A Quiet Place is a springboard for personal reflections or group conversations.
For a film with terrifying aliens, A Quiet Place offers a surprisingly touching homage to parenthood. Perhaps that’s a logical result for a script that Krasinski worked on shortly after he and his wife (and co-star) Emily Blunt welcomed a baby into their lives.
Could A Quiet Place make some noise at the Oscars? The film’s technical achievements (especially production design and sound mixing) are masterful, but nominations for categories like Best Original Screenplay are traditionally bestowed upon more “serious” films. Then again, there seems to be a recent shift in Hollywood: at the 2018 Academy Awards, gold statutes were handed out to Get Out and The Shape of Water, two films that clearly featured horror elements, even if many critics and artists refuse to use the H-word.
After watching A Quiet Place, I estimated how long I could keep my own children silent. Five minutes. Tops. Even less if they had to share.
—Nick Hanson
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