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The Look of Silence makes it personal
The past isn’t
The Look of Silence: Narrowing the great divide between violator and victim.
There’s a quote from Jean-Luc Godard — the source of which has escaped me — in which the greatest living filmmaker suggests that the future of well-balanced cinema is subject to a need for documentary filmmakers to borrow from narrative cinema and vice versa. The quote is never far from my mind, particularly when watching Joshua Oppenheimer work. His latest film, The Look of Silence, opens Friday at the Landmark Ken Cinema.
An optometrist offering free eye exams slowly infiltrates the mob’s chain of command in order to confront and hold accountable the men responsible for the brutal murder of his brother. What sounds like a pitch for a second-rate HBO series is in reality the first of two intended companion pieces to Oppenheimer’s unprecedented documentary, The Act of Killing.
Movie
Look of Silence ****
An optometrist offering free eye-exams slowly infiltrates the mob chain of command to confront and hold accountable the men responsible for the brutal murder of his brother. What sounds like a pitch for a second-rate HBO series is in reality the first of two intended companion pieces to Joshua Oppenheimer’s unprecedented documentary, <em>The Act of Killing</em>. Where <em>Killing</em> focused on the surreal reenactment of mass genocide by its perpetrators. <em>Silence</em> makes it personal, ripping into the past of a family whose youngest son, Adi, places his life on the line by facing down his brother’s assassins, many of whom still hold political office. He simply refuses to take “The past is past” for an answer, to the point where his fearful mother stops just short of insisting that her son hire a food-taster. Every tale of brutality is punctuated by what should be described as uncomfortable laughter, yet a pride in craftsmanship resonated throughout each giggle. I’m almost afraid to see what Part 3 holds in store.
Killing focused on the surreal reenactment of mass genocide by its elderly perpetrators. Silence makes it personal, ripping into the past of a family whose youngest son, Adi, places his life on the line by facing down his brother’s assassins, many of whom still hold high political office.
Refusing to take “the past is past” for an answer, Adi’s mother encourages her son’s quest, thinking all the while that he might want to consider hiring a food taster. Every tale of brutality is punctuated by what should be described as uncomfortable laughter, yet a pride in craftsmanship resonated throughout each giggle.
One thing sets Silence apart from its predecessor. There’s a moment where our protagonist is unnecessarily subjected to gut-wrenching emotional brutality — a video in which the two perpetrators jokingly recall his brother’s murder — that borders on exploitation. I’m almost afraid to see what Part 3 holds in store.
Here's something you might be interested in.
The Look of Silence makes it personal
The past isn’t
The Look of Silence makes it personal
The past isn’t
The Look of Silence: Narrowing the great divide between violator and victim.
There’s a quote from Jean-Luc Godard — the source of which has escaped me — in which the greatest living filmmaker suggests that the future of well-balanced cinema is subject to a need for documentary filmmakers to borrow from narrative cinema and vice versa. The quote is never far from my mind, particularly when watching Joshua Oppenheimer work. His latest film, The Look of Silence, opens Friday at the Landmark Ken Cinema.
An optometrist offering free eye exams slowly infiltrates the mob’s chain of command in order to confront and hold accountable the men responsible for the brutal murder of his brother. What sounds like a pitch for a second-rate HBO series is in reality the first of two intended companion pieces to Oppenheimer’s unprecedented documentary, The Act of Killing.
Movie
Look of Silence ****
An optometrist offering free eye-exams slowly infiltrates the mob chain of command to confront and hold accountable the men responsible for the brutal murder of his brother. What sounds like a pitch for a second-rate HBO series is in reality the first of two intended companion pieces to Joshua Oppenheimer’s unprecedented documentary, <em>The Act of Killing</em>. Where <em>Killing</em> focused on the surreal reenactment of mass genocide by its perpetrators. <em>Silence</em> makes it personal, ripping into the past of a family whose youngest son, Adi, places his life on the line by facing down his brother’s assassins, many of whom still hold political office. He simply refuses to take “The past is past” for an answer, to the point where his fearful mother stops just short of insisting that her son hire a food-taster. Every tale of brutality is punctuated by what should be described as uncomfortable laughter, yet a pride in craftsmanship resonated throughout each giggle. I’m almost afraid to see what Part 3 holds in store.
Killing focused on the surreal reenactment of mass genocide by its elderly perpetrators. Silence makes it personal, ripping into the past of a family whose youngest son, Adi, places his life on the line by facing down his brother’s assassins, many of whom still hold high political office.
Refusing to take “the past is past” for an answer, Adi’s mother encourages her son’s quest, thinking all the while that he might want to consider hiring a food taster. Every tale of brutality is punctuated by what should be described as uncomfortable laughter, yet a pride in craftsmanship resonated throughout each giggle.
One thing sets Silence apart from its predecessor. There’s a moment where our protagonist is unnecessarily subjected to gut-wrenching emotional brutality — a video in which the two perpetrators jokingly recall his brother’s murder — that borders on exploitation. I’m almost afraid to see what Part 3 holds in store.
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