Silent Light

I am always a little suspicious of obscure movies that get raves from major critics. I generally find that they are obscure for good reasons and don't live up to the hype. Carlos Reygadas' Silent Light, as it turns out, does live up to the hype, but I can certainly understand why it's obscure.

Set in a Mennonite community in Mexico, it tells the story of a love triangle between Johan, his wife Esther and the other woman, Marianne. As if the very idea of an adultery flick featuring Mennonites weren't enough to put people off, the dialogue is almost entirely in Plautdietsch, a Low German dialect full of pinched vowels that don't fall sweetly on uncomprehending ears. Another challenge is Reygadas' intense, static directorial style. The camera moves so little that the film almost seems like a series of still shots, and Reygadas lingers far longer over quiet moments between the actors than most moviegoers can comfortably tolerate.

In other words, this movie asks for a lot of patience and indulgence from the viewer, but it offers a very rich experience in return. I have never seen a depiction of infidelity that captures the pain of everyone involved the way this film does. The genius of setting the story among Mennonites, who don't romanticize marriage or celebrate the ego, is that it lifts the drama away from the usual cliches about betrayal or the death of love. The problem confronting Johan, Esther and Marianne is how to determine what is love, and what is not; or, to put it in in their terms, to know whether the love Johan and Marianne feel is a gift from God or the work of the "Enemy." Everyone in Silent Light is trapped, not by weakness or romantic illusion, but by the desire to do what is right and good.

As the story progresses, the mundane human drama expands into the realm of myth and miracles; but it does so gradually, and with such a light hand that there's no opportunity for the viewer to draw away and resist. As the film nears its end, something literally unbelievable happens, but by that time we've entered the Mennonite universe, where the reality of such things is unquestioned. The film has prepared us to accept the miracle and ponder its meaning, just as the characters would.

In addition to its narrative brilliance, this film is incredibly beautiful. Every shot is perfectly composed, and Reygadas invests his scenes with the natural sensuality of rural life. To get a sense of the dream-like beauty of the film, click here for a clip of its first five minutes.

The film's website, alas, is really not very good. There's a trailer there with English subtitles, but it was very glitchy every time I tried to play it. The trailer below has Spanish subtitles, but I think you'll get a sense of the film even if you can't read them. You can learn more about the movie at its Wikipedia page.