Silence speaks volumes about the power of belief

Despite its enigmatic title, Silence has a lot to say about the mystery of faith and the religious and cultural differences that shape the world. This 2016 historical drama, directed by Martin Scorsese and based on Shūsaku Endō's 1966 novel, stars, and. Set in the 17th century, it follows two Portuguese Jesuit priests—Sebastião Rodrigues (Andrew Garfield) and Francisco Garupe (Adam Driver) who travel to Japan to find their mentor, Father Cristóvão Ferreira (Liam Neeson), who is rumored to have renounced his faith under torture. There, they witness severe persecution of Japanese Christians by the Tokugawa shogunate. Scorsese, driven by his Catholic background and passion for the novel since the 1980s, faced delays before finally bringing the project to fruition in 2016. The film received critical acclaim for its direction, cinematography, performances, thematic depth, and historical authenticity.

Click here to access a recording of our CineVerse group discussion of Silence, conducted last week.

This is one of the most intellectually stimulating and spiritually intriguing films ever made, prompting us to perform a self-examination of our personal beliefs and to question who and what is right or wrong, evil or virtuous, wise or foolish in this narrative. The filmmakers literally use the motif of silence and voiceless quietude (with minimal music used) to underscore how God/Christ remains non-responsive. We often hear ambient sounds like the wind, crashing waves, or bird calls, which are used almost in mockery to these prayers. The sounds we don’t want to hear are the frequent wails and cries of pain of the tormented and imprisoned. We do briefly hear the voiced response of Christ, but it’s assumed that this is Rodrigues’ conscience speaking.

Curiously, the film doesn’t explain why Kichijiro betrays Rodrigues, commits apostasy, or continually asks forgiveness, forcing us to ponder his motivations and explore deeper themes woven into the film. Slant Magazine reviewer Jesse Cataldo wrote: “The mystery of Kichijiro’s true intentions is also key to the fact that the film never offers definitive answers or conclusions, rejecting the brutal actions of the story’s ostensible villains while carving out ample space for empathy and understanding, supplying even these persecutors with valid arguments worthy of abundant consideration.”

One could argue that Silence is, perhaps unsurprisingly considering Scorsese’s involvement, fairly balanced. We feel sympathy and empathy for these priests and the surreptitiously Christian villagers and the persecution and pain they endure, and religious viewers may also struggle with what they would do in their same situations: renounce their faith or endure a horrible death. But Silence shows both sides of the argument here via the words of the inquisitor, the interpreter, and Ferreira, the latter of whom survived by embracing Japanese spirituality and culture and abandoning his religion—although he was forced to do so to spare human lives. While it’s easy to view these Japanese authorities as villains, those who remember their history know that there were unconscionable acts of brutality and inhumanity practiced by Christian inquisitors in Spain and other parts of the world at this same time.

The last shot, of the dead priest cupping a crucifix secretly placed in his hands by his wife, is a fascinating final image, suggesting that Rodrigues—despite being compelled to commit blasphemy and adopt a traditional Japanese lifestyle—never truly lost his Christian faith.

Among the prominent themes explored in Silence is a personal crisis of faith, experienced in particular by three priests—Ferreira, Rodrigues, and Garupe. Their religious beliefs and personal convictions are severely tested by Japanese authorities, who wreak torture and death upon the exposed Christian peasants and the priests themselves. The film also cogitates deeply on disloyalty: Like Judas, Kichijiro betrays his friend and earlier turns his back on his family, watching them die.

Is there a God, and if so why is God silent? And what’s the whole point of religion? Here’s a picture unafraid to examine these impossible-to-answer questions. The film continually emphasizes that Christ and the God these characters place their faith in does not answer their prayers or deliver them from suffering or death. Critic Amy Nicholson posited: “Silence wrestles with questions that've butchered millions of believers and non-believers in the last two millennia: Is there a god, and if so, does he appreciate bloodshed? What's the point of hearing confessions in a language (Rodrigues) doesn't understand? What's the point of disappointing a desperate mother by explaining that, technically, her baptized baby won't be in paradise — or paradaisu — until it dies? What's the point of his parishioners getting themselves killed by refusing to step on an icon of Jesus, the Inquisitor's dreaded Trample Test?”

Blasphemy versus humanism, or the value of rigid, dogmatic religious fidelity versus flexible faith is front and center, too. Are these priests damned for having denounced their Christian deity, or would Jesus have condoned or mirrored their choice to end the suffering and killing of innocent peasants?

Silence further teaches us that deep-seated personal beliefs can be incredibly steadfast and intransigent. "Mountains and rivers can be moved but men's nature cannot be moved,” as Ferreira states. We also learn that the benefits of belief are not necessarily universal. Rodrigues tells the inquisitor: “We believe we have brought you the truth. The truth is universal. It's common to all countries at all times. That's why we call it the truth. If a doctrine weren't as true here in Japan as it is in Portugal, then we couldn't call it the truth.” The interpreter responds: “But everyone knows a tree which flourishes in one kind of earth may decay and die in another. It is the same with the tree of Christianity. The leaves decay here. The buds die. It is not the soil that has killed the buds.”

While the motivations for the Japanese authorities rejecting Christianity are not fully explored, the inquisitor suggests that spirituality is very personal and can also be a territorial issue wherein some peoples see an outside faith as threatening. The inquisitor relays a story about the daimyo and his four concubines, whom he had to drive away to regain peace. He says: “The daimyo is like Japan, and these concubines are Spain, Portugal, Holland, England. Each trying to gain the advantage against the other and destroy the house in the process.”

Similar works

• Two earlier adaptations: the 1971 film Silence, and Os Olhos da Ásia, a Portuguese film from 1996
• Horror films like Witchfinder General and The Wicker Man
• Heart of Darkness and Apocalypse Now, which also involves a man commissioned to travel to a dangerous distant land to find a highly respected authority who has gone AWOL
• Scorsese’s The Last Temptation of Christ (1988) and Kundun (1997), also concerned with spiritual characters grappling with challenges of faith and belief
• Shogun, both the 2024 FX miniseries and the 1980 NBC miniseries
• The Mission
• Many films by Ingmar Bergman in which the spiritual faith of one or more characters is tested
• Ugetsu
• First Reformed

Other films by Martin Scorsese

• Mean Streets
• Taxi Driver
• Raging Bull
• The King of Comedy
• After Hours
• Goodfellas
• Casino
• The Departed
• Hugo
• The Wolf of Wall Street
• The Irishman