Several acquaintances and former students, knowing of our years in
Japan, have asked me about the movie “Silence.” Kathy and I finally saw it last
evening, and we were deeply appreciative, even thrilled, with how Martin
Scorsese has conveyed Endo Shusaku’s 1966 historical novel Silence (沈黙, Chinmoku).
The story itself is not at all “thrilling,” of course; better descriptions
include “excruciating” and “religiously provocative.” What makes the movie
superlative, in my view, is what Scorsese has don, and refrained from doing, in
order to communicate Endo’s complex message in Silence. I will get to those particulars shortly.
The message of Silence is
difficult succinctly to articulate. It deals with religious faith,
interreligious encounter, and imperial conflict – as particularly manifest in
Japan beginning almost a half-millennium ago. Endo’s message in Silence can also be understood
autobiographically, as he tried to integrate his Japanese and Catholic
identities (at that time in his 40’s). Silence
is Endo’s most widely-known work, but it is by no means his only or even best
one. (Theologically, I think Endo’s 1980 Samurai,
with more crystallized Christology, offers even more discussion points.) For a
general audience, however, Silence
offers a compelling entryway into Endo and the beginning stages of Christian
history and of European presence in Japan. Again, I believe Scorsese’s “Silence”
leads viewers through that entrance faithfully, appropriately, and
meaningfully.
I will not try and offer here either a summary of Silence or a movie review per se. You can easily find many
elsewhere (two of which I link in the next paragraph). As you would expect, I
recommend reading the novel if you have not already done so. If you have not
yet seen the move in a theater you have missed your chance, since its lack of
box office draw is causing many theaters to cut short its anticipated longer
showing dates. I also recommend that you read a little about Endo Shusaku
himself (at least the Wikipedia version).
While you’re at it, look into Scorsese and his long-time interest in making
this movie, e.g., here.
One movie critic is appreciative yet writes, “’Silence’ is not a great movie…. Though undeniably gorgeous, it is punishingly
long, frequently boring, and woefully unengaging at some of its most critical
moments. It is too subdued for Scorsese-philes, too violent for the most
devout, and too abstruse for the great many moviegoers who such an expensive
undertaking hopes to attract. Another insightful reviewer, in comparing the movie’s relative Oscar-snub to the
several nominations of “Hacksaw Ridge,” labels “Silence” as “the finest movie
of 2016, and one that will be recognized belatedly as one of Scorsese’s
greatest achievements. But at the present moment, ‘Silence’ represents a
challenging sit for audiences – and sadly, this too often includes Oscar voters
– who see intellectual engagement and moral ambiguity as the enemy, rather than
the enabler, of great cinema.” I think this paradoxical greatness of the movie
and its lack of Oscar voters’ and audiences’ attention lie in what I came away
liking the most about “Silence,” namely in how Scorsese has faithfully conveyed
Endo.
My basic skepticism when I first heard about the movie was whether the
U.S.-American Scorsese could even approach understanding, much less
communicating, Endo’s nuanced, Japanese-Catholic complexity. After viewing the
movie last night I was elated having recognized Endo’s message, including
through some of the climactic events toward the end. That the movie is basically
in English was surprisingly not a major deterrent, perhaps there was enough
spoken Japanese (and Latin) to help anchor the story in Japan. (Because I do
not know personally all of the particular areas in Kyushu where the events
would have taken place, I cannot tell if filming the movie in Taiwan detracts
from the subtleties of the coastlines, landscapes, fauna, etc.) Also, in my
estimation the movie’s few additions to the novel only enhance the overall story,
rather than distracting those who know well Endo’s Silence.
A secondary concern I had going into the movie was the degree of
violence that would be on display. After all, Scorsese’s films have that kind
of track record, and a friend who saw a preview showing of “Silence” had warned
me that it was “gruesome.” The book itself does not hide the horror of the
persecutions central to the history, so it would not have been surprising if
the movie had majored on blood and gore. Thankfully, neither Kathy nor I found
the movie to be that way at all – certainly not more so than Endo’s own
gut-wrenching, detailed elaborations of Christians’ excruciating suffering at
the hands of their persecutors.
Related is how Scorsese has refrained from sensationalizing the
violence of the persecutions is the remarkable absence of music from the movie.
There is no “normal” music before, after, or for that matter during the entire
showing. As one analysis puts it, “The spare, haunting score is a combination of wordless
vocalizations, electroacoustic drones, and interwoven sound effects (far-off
clangs, wind, waves, crickets [semi],
and the like).” Such an “eerie score” helps to convey Endo’s sense of mystery of
profundity, rather than amping up the horrific violence intertwined with the
story’s persecutions.
There are many other particulars worth mentioning, but here I will note
only two more. First, Scorsese’s inclusion of different attitudes among the
Jesuits in Japan not only is historically accurate but also true to Endo’s
complex message. Second, the movie’s portrayal of Japanese characters –
Christians, persecutors, and otherwise – as primary protagonists (not just
backdrops to the expatriate priests) further conveys Endo and the reality of
what was actually happening during those early decades of the Tokugawa
Shogunate.
I encourage those who see the movie not to conclude that they therefore
understand Japan or the history of Christianity in Japan. I also encourage not
solely fixating on some of the key summary phrases from the book or movie,
including Japan being a “swamp” in which the “Western sapling” of Christianity
cannot take root, or “hearing God in the silence” of suffering. Furthermore, in
my judgment the type of Japanese-Christian struggle of faith that Endo
experienced and communicates should not be interpreted as the only, or the “best,”
or the “truest” Christianity in Japan or elsewhere.
Having said all of that, in this blogpost the positive encouragement I
want to convey is that Scorsese’s “Silence” is true to Endo’s Silence. To my mind, that faithful
rendering is a remarkable achievement to be celebrated.