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 (041618)
Wonderfully coiled tension arrives quickly and often in "A Quiet Place," an
almost silent thriller with a pip of a conceit: its characters cannot make a
sound louder than a hushed whisper or they wish to fall prey to a host of
hearing sensitive creatures who have taken over the world. For writer-director
John Krasinski (2016's "The Hollars") and co-scribes Bryan Woods & Scott Beck,
this is an artful exercise in using their story's limitations to their benefit.
When making any noise at all can spell doom, the viewer's apprehension over
every footstep is elevated even when the narrative itself is paced deliberately.
Also impressive is how well the setup is established and ensuing situations
portrayed without the need for spoken exposition. It's unique not being
bombarded with people onscreen constantly explaining what's going on to the
audience.
It has been over a year since they made their presences known on Earth, and in
that time the population has seemingly dwindled to the fittest. For married
couple Lee (John Krasinski) and Evelyn (Emily Blunt) and their children, Regan
(Millicent Simmonds) and Marcus (Noah Jupe), a grave loss within their unit has
both shaken them and reiterated how crucial it is that they always remain
quieter than the natural sounds around them. Evelyn is coming up on the end of
her pregnancy, but this usually joyous time is overshadowed by a cold, hard
truth: the coos and cries of a baby could spell outright disaster for their
survival.
A family who find their planet—and, more personally, their farm—invaded by alien
beings. A central protagonist racked with guilt over a tragedy which claimed the
life of his or her own. A climactic deus ex machina that may hold the key to the
creatures' weakness. Whether intentional or not, "A Quiet Place" sometimes comes
across like a loose remake of M. Night Shyamalan's 2002 film "Signs." If one can
guess rather early on where things are headed, it is impossible to anticipate
the level of high-wire craftsmanship Krasinski displays. The creaks of
floorboards; the accidental knocking-over of objects; a sharp nail protruding
vertically from a basement stair—all of the above build suspense, ratchet
audience stress, and have the power to startle when silence is a golden
necessity. The aural complexity of the picture's sound design should not be
underestimated, each heard movement amplified by its potentially fatal
consequence. If there is one element of the sound scape of the film that does not
work so well, it is the over-bearing score by Marco Beltrami. A few less
orchestral jump scares would have been advised.
An actor's face has the power to speak louder than his or her words, an axiom
supported by the good work of the four lead actors here. John Krasinski (2013's
"The Wind Rises") and a strikingly good Emily Blunt (2014's "Edge of Tomorrow")
are steadfast yet fallible forces as Lee and Evelyn, a couple who have endured
heartache and want nothing more than to protect their children. They also
realistically know they may not always be around, and so it goes that Lee takes
reluctant son Marcus out on fishing expeditions while insisting deaf daughter
Regan stay behind with her mom. Regan sees his curious denial as a way of
punishing her for a harrowing past event for which she already blames herself.
Whether this is true or not of Lee, he does love her—a sentiment Marcus suggests
to his dad the dejected Regan needs to hear. Millicent Simmonds (2017's
"Wonderstruck"), deaf in real life, brings an aching, unforced poignancy to
Regan, while Noah Jupe (2017's "Wonder") affectingly expresses the raw fear and
capacity for bravery of a young boy trapped in a nightmarish waking scenario.
"A Quiet Place" is an intimate tale of familial devotion and survival amidst the
suggestion of worldwide decimation. A few more occasions early on of the
different family members interacting—specifically mother/daughter Evelyn and
Regan—could have only deepened their relationships and bonds. When time is taken
for lovely quiet moments that prove louder than much of the action, as when Lee
and Evelyn share ear buds and dance to Neil Young's quixotic "Harvest Moon," the
weight of all they've had to endure read in their silent synergy, it goes a long
way in building up an otherwise slim study in minimalist storytelling. The
unnerving terror threatening to boil to the surface at any moment is where the
film most excels. Indelible suspense and dread abound, a cellar-set game of
cat-and-mouse and a fall into a suffocating silo of grain enough to warrant
widespread armrest-clenching. Watching "A Quiet Place," one doesn't dare make a
peep, the intoxication of its premise spilling off the screen. Even when it's
heading toward inevitable beats the viewer is privy to before the characters,
the film works like gangbusters as a crafty, well-oiled conduit of fright.
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