Many parts of the film, especially the miracle at its end, are a conscious homage to Carl Dreyer’s Ordet.The difference is that while Dreyer always seemed primarily concerned with the religious (or simply “spiritual” as some will argue) aspects of his films, Silent Light has an almost sensual love for the world and the people within it.If it’s faith, confused or hypocritical as it may be, that raises the dead in Ordet, it’s love and humanity that does it for Silent Light.
This joy in the world around us opens the film with an epic, stunningly beautiful shot of a sunrise that lasts nearly five minutes.Silent Light abounds in the beauty of the outdoors, continuing scenes in order to catch the wind crossing a field or ripples in a stream even when the characters have left.The effect is unavoidably slow, but it feels warranted.Building interiors are suffocating and within them the pacing does become oppressive, but it’s related to the Mennonites’ inability to speak their minds or change their situation.
By Silent Light’s end, the thematic weight of the film’s shots is palpable.Even with such alien characters, Carlos Reygadas’ assured filmmaking makes it impossible not to feel for the people, almost despite themselves.They hurt each other and know better than what they’re doing, yet they can’t stop.That’s what makes them human, and it’s this human part of them that’s as beautiful as the wondrous world around them.As the film ends with a shot opposite its opening, it feels like the real miracle is not that of one woman’s resurrection but that of all the life taking place under the sun, flawed as it may be.