It’s certainly an unconventional choice by the producers of the Quiet Place series to follow up A Quiet Place Part II -a film that ends more or less in the middle of its story with next to none of its themes or plot points resolved- with rather than a direct sequel, a spin-off prequel about the initial invasion of Earth by these sonically hyper-sensitive monsters. It seems a little bit early to be going in this direction with the franchise -The Purge at least waited until an initial trilogy was done before going back and covering the origin story, and besides, the basic idea here was already glimpsed at least in part in that prologue sequence from the second movie.
But John Krasinski, director and co-screenwriter of the first two films, made the remarkably sharp choice of tapping Michael Sarnoski, whose Pig was one of the best debuts of 2021, to write and direct. As demonstrated there, Sarnoski has a skill for creating moody and beautifully solemn character drama geared towards his actors’ underwritten talents; and working on a big budget action-horror film hasn’t changed his propensity for that -and it elevates an otherwise bland horror prequel considerably, to the point it may well be the best instalment of this series thus far.
Sarnoski may be tasked with covering similar ground Krasinski did last time -but he does have a whole new interesting canvas with New York City, which text at the front of the film emphasizes is in a near constant state of noise. Perfect grounds for these monsters to wreak havoc in, and bringing silence to New York is a whole different matter than some rural town. Navigating this environment is Sam, played by Lupita Nyong’o, a terminally ill woman in the care of a hospice who becomes trapped in Manhattan while on a group outing when the aliens start falling from the sky. As everyone around her endeavours often in vain to flee and survive on their own, told to make their way to boats to escape, she and her beloved cat Frodo appear to have a completely different set of intentions.
Side-stepping for a moment the cute fact that Sarnoski wrote a story that features a character called Sam desperately protecting and often carrying one called Frodo, the most curious note about the movie is how much it cares about its human drama beyond the scope of surviving this monster apocalypse. It’s nearly fifteen minutes before the title appears and the stakes really start to materialize -in which time the film basks in Sam’s particular attitude and depression, setting up a character the audience can care about beyond simply being our avatar through an intense apocalypse scenario. And this is done without even relaying a lot of information upfront -her story is filled in throughout the movie- but Sarnoski makes ample use of Nyong’o’s exquisite performance subtlety. Through allusions the two of them build out a character of fascinating depth. Sam’s resignation to her fate is tied up in antipathy, but also one crucial impatient impulse on her venture into the city -a desire to go for pizza at this one special place, certain it will be her last time. A charming sequence at a marionette show provides her a rare little touch of magic as she is unexpectedly swept up by it. Then everything is ruined by the monsters.
This isn’t to say though that they are a drag on an otherwise beguiling drama, or that they don’t fit within the character story Sarnoski is clearly most interested in telling. In fact they are an appropriate challenge for Sam -who has spent so long anticipating death- by forcing her to survive, while also representing in their own way the ailment crushing down on her. But Sarnoski is very good at relating their horror too. He attempts to bring a sense of mystique back to them, and a potent sense of dread, by drawing on just the fact of so many of them and casting New York as their feeding frenzy. As in the other movies, he doesn't go so violent in this, but the carnage they wreak is palpable. And he builds tension about them exceptionally well -particularly in one subway station sequence that feels like a scene from Jurassic Park.
But it is that genuine character drama that makes the stakes effective as the tension likewise feeds into it. Sam and Frodo are joined by Eric (Joseph Quinn) a law student from the U.K. likewise adrift in this chaos. And the relationship built between these strangers is very endearing, and perhaps not unintentionally evocative of that similar relationship at the heart of Pig. Also like Pig, this movie has a great love of animals, as Sam proves willing to risk anything to protect Frodo, and to ensure the audience cares about the cat too an actual cat is cast in the part and is wonderful.
As is the established habit for these movies, a lot of it takes place in silence, and while it probably doesn't utilize the limits of sound as much as the previous two movies, it does utilize them to better, more creative ends. Sam and Eric making it to her old apartment and using a storm to let out their pent-up screams of anguish -timed to the thunder. There's the emotional intricacy of Sam's story and motivation -her overwhelming desire even amidst apocalypse to give herself closure- largely related through inference and sly beats of expression. And the most poignant scene of the movie, when Sam and Eric find a more serene quiet place where they can mutely share in a last moment of touching reprieve. It is a heartwarming, charming moment serving dual functions for the film's dual thematic goals -and Nyong'o and Quinn are never better.
A scene like this is made even stronger by the relatively stark direction Sarnoski ultimately takes the movie to for its final act, which does function as a linking device to the narrative of the other movies, but also works perfectly entirely independent of them -which honestly can be said for the whole movie. It doesn't concern itself much with wider continuity, it simply tells its story of two people coping with their own issues against a monster apocalypse. Sarnoski pulls from his own collection of sources -Aliens, 28 Days Later; for the fierceness of the initial attack he draws on some traumatic imagery from 9/11. But he does the thing that few directors stepping into an established franchise are allowed to do and makes it his own.
A Quiet Place: Day One is not worthy of the dismissal its title is sure to prompt. The way it integrates its authentic themes and drama into the chaos and tension of its premise, doing so while maintaining and growing that tension in a silent atmosphere, is wholly absorbing. And it is perhaps the most human movie of this series as a result. Driven in large part off Nyong'o's stupendous leading performance, it is a movie capable of a strange but genuine pathos. It may even make you cry.
Don't let them hear you though.
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