From the opening frames of Katrine Brocks’s Danish drama The Great Silence, it’s clear that something is rotten in, well, if not the state of Denmark, then in the convent in which postulant Alma is living. Mere weeks from taking her final vows, Alma appears to be content to spend the rest of her life living in quiet contemplation in the convent, praying for those in the community, and living alongside her small (and ever shrinking) cadre of fellow nuns. Her father has recently passed away, leaving her a generous inheritance which she has pledged to aid in the restoration of the convent’s chapel (whose roof is leaking with ominous patches of dark rot visible in the ceiling – and yes, that is a metaphor for the revelations that are yet to unfurl in the film). All seems to be going well for Alma, until her alcoholic brother appears, fresh from rehab, and looking to settle their father’s estate to presumably be more favorable to him.
The Great Silence is a compelling and complex story of faith, family, trauma, and the insidious nature of guilt. As the rot increases within the convent chapel – the sacred space for Alma and her future sisters – so does the guilt within Alma over the events of her past – a past shared with her brother – and the trauma that continues to find its way back into her psyche despite Alma doing her best to ignore it and push it to the background. Sure, Brocks has a bit of a heavy hand with her visuals and music cues at times (the horror-esque score in the early part of the film is suitably jarring but deployed so frequently is loses its impact rather quickly, and the shots of the water-damaged and rotting chapel ceiling also become a case of hitting us over the head with the metaphor one too many times).
However, even with those missteps, once the film settles into the relationship between Alma and her brother – and their shared past’s impact on Alma’s delicate present – the film finds much surer footing. Kristin Kujath Thorp is exceptional as Alma, able to balance the varied needs of the character without ever allowing her to venture into melodrama, and Elliot Crosset Hove is great as Erik, the mysterious brother. It’s not an easy role to pull off – he must both be slightly menacing yet still sympathetic enough to keep the audience guessing as to his true motivation and relationship not only with Alma but with several other characters within the film – and Hove pulls it off effortlessly.
When the film eventually lays all of its cards on the table, it doesn’t feel forced or manipulative. Rather, the story flows easily from one beat to the next, allowing the audience to follow the action in real time rather than race ahead of its characters. Yes, it’s clear there’s more at play than meets the eye – there’s the music cues and the rotting ceiling, after all – but the script from Brocks and Marianne Lentz never tips its hand too far. And each reveal feels wholly earned. This is, at its heart, a universal story about how our own failings and traumatic moments must be worked through and experienced rather than pushed aside and avoided. Failing to work through our pain can only lead to greater pain in the future – and taking responsibility for our role in the pain of others is a key facet to allowing ourselves the room to grieve, grow, and move on.
The Great Silence was screened at the 58th Annual Chicago Film Festival. The film will release locally on January 12, 2023.
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