About half way into A Quiet Place, which follows a family living in silence due to monsters that track down victims by sound, Evelyn Abbott (Emily Blunt) asks her husband Lee (John Krasinski) a question that defines the entire film. “Who are we if we can’t protect them?”
“Them” refers to the Abbott’s children, Regan (Millicent Simmonds), who is deaf, and Marcus (Noah Jupe). A Quiet Place is, by all means, one of the scariest films of recent memory, but it’s even more effective because it’s a horror film with a gripping emotional basis — that of parenthood and the lengths we go to to protect our kids.
The film is almost entirely silent, with most of the interactions utilizing sign language. That set up leaves co-writer/director John Krasinski — wearing many hats on this project — with the difficult task of achieving the emotional basis through the physicality of the characters, through the actions they take more so than the words they say or sign. But Krasinski pulls it off.
A Quiet Place is a tight, lean picture — every second dedicated not only to Evelyn and Lee trying to protect their kids, but also to the kids learning the bravery necessary to begin to survive on their own. Many of these character moments are elevated immensely by the performances, and each one feels entirely integrated into the world. Movements through space are careful and calculated. And facial expressions are exacerbated excruciatingly, as they would be for people living in such a situation. The clear standout, however, is Emily Blunt, who bears the weight of her character — the weight of love, grief and the worst physical pain of any character — so thoroughly.
While Krasinski is undoubtedly rather strong, with his performance’s emotion sitting right under the surface, his most assured role on this film is as the director, composing every feature into a brilliant whole. The sound design is bare, but brutal. Charlotte Bruus Christensen’s cinematography is stark, but tender. And the production design builds a world far beyond the frame. In fact, it’s the world-building of A Quiet Place that is so astonishingly impressive. Some aspects of the layout of the Abbott’s home exist without explanation (to the film’s benefit) — and are then capitalized on for some harrowing imagery.
Yet, the film isn’t just harrowing and scary. It’s often incredibly invigorating and fun. And as A Quiet Place turns to its end and champions its female characters specifically, especially in a banger of a closing shot, it’s difficult not to walk out with a big, stupid grin on your face.
Featured image via Paramount Pictures