Voice of Silence (2020) Review

“Voice of Silence” Theatrical Poster

Director: Hong Eui-jung
Cast: Yoo Ah-in, Yoo Jae-myung, Moon Seung-A, Yu Seong-Ju, Shin Tae-Yang, Hanna Kim
Running Time: 99 min. 

By Paul Bramhall 

Back in the early to mid-noughties, a period popularly known as the Korean Wave, the countries film industry had a knack for cranking out productions that seamlessly blended genres to create a number of unique cinematic experiences. From the sci-fi zaniness of Save the Green Planet, to the left of field horror antics in To Catch a Virgin Ghost, when it came to Korean cinema you could never be sure exactly what you were in for. In more recent times the country’s output has leaned increasingly towards sticking to one genre, which they often do exceptionally well, but long-time fans can be forgiven for missing an era of filmmaking when it felt like creativity reigned supreme. I mention this period, because 2020’s Voice of Silence very much feels like a hark back to those earlier days when movies frequently defied being pigeonholed.

Focusing on a pair of rural egg sellers played by Yoo Ah-in (#Alive, Burning) and Yoo Jae-myung (Bring Me Home, The Drug King), when not supplying the local community they have a side hustle (an arguably better paying one at that) of assisting gangsters to prepare for any gruesome beatdowns or murders they plan to partake in. While the pair never get involved in the nasty business themselves, decked out in plastic Macs and shower caps they carefully cover the floor in plastic, lay out the ‘tools’ which intend to be put to use, and take care of the clean-up afterwards. Their safely distanced involvement though is challenged one day when the gangster they work for asks them to watch over a potential victim for a couple of days, and while initially reluctant, it soon becomes clear that the consequences of refusing would likely be far more bothersome.

What they weren’t expecting was for the person in question to be an 11-year-old girl, and one who seems to be much more aware of what’s going on than either of them. With Ah-in left to house the unexpected third member of their tightly knit operation, a couple of days becomes more of a challenge when the gangster who tasked them with the job is himself killed off, leaving no clear direction of what’s supposed to happen with the girl. It’s at this point that Voice of Silence becomes a classic tale of Murphy’s law, in which everything that can go wrong does go wrong, with Ah-in and Jae-myung’s attempts to rid themselves of their unwanted companion becoming the driving force of the narrative.

The debut of director and writer Hong Eui-jung, Voice of Silence takes a rarely seen perspective and puts a quirkily humorous take on proceedings. There’s a level of detail paid to the kinds of procedures we know have to take place in a gangster movie, but never question. When gangsters walk into a room and there’s already someone strung up with a table full of hammers and other blunt force associated tools laid out next to them, we put it down to movie magic, but in Voice of Silence we learn such preparation is actually a form of gainful employment. In one amusing scene the gangster yells at Ah-in and Jae-myung because they hung the victim too low, which led to him getting back ache from the beating he dished out, and it’s this attention to the minutiae found throughout Eui-jung’s script that signal the arrival of an exciting new talent.

While I would have happily spent the entire movie watching Ah-in and Jae-myung working around the peripheries of the scenes we’re so familiar with in the Korean gangster genre, the narratives focus eventually centers on the relationship with the girl, played by newcomer Moon Seung-ah. Specifically it focuses on the unlikely bond that appears to form between her and Ah-in. Ever since his villainous turn in Ryoo Seung-won’s Veteran Ah-in’s star has been on the rise, and after working with a minimal script in #Alive from the same year, here he has no lines at all. It’s never implicitly stated if his character is mute or has made the decision not to speak, instead leaving it to audience interpretation, but either way it allows him to deliver a stellar performance, speaking volumes purely through facial expressions and body language.

Similarly for Jae-myung (who notably had a small role in Veteran), an actor who while rarely the lead, has been one of Korea’s top supporting actors over the past 20 years, clocking in close to 100 roles across both the big and small screens. Voice of Silence gives him his most high-profile role to date opposite Ah-in, and as the God loving older brother type to his silent partner, his character acts as a kind of (admittedly skewered) moral compass in their morally ambiguous world.

For a first-time director Eui-jung handles the shift in narrative focus with aplomb, avoiding any whiplash inducing tonal shifts into melodrama, and instead choosing to maintain the off-kilter feel of the initial scenes. We learn Ah-in lives in a rundown abode on the outskirts of town with his younger sister, who in one scene Seung-ah humorously mistakes to be another child being held captive like herself, and the relationship develops in a way which sees her become the unintended head of the house. However the threat of reality is never far away, and the topics that Voice of Silence navigates through will likely divide audiences not accustomed to Korea’s own distinctly adult style of genre mashing. 

When Ah-in and Jae-myung go to pick up their target, they’re surprised to find it’s a brightly decorated children’s playroom. Upon meeting their contacts, played by Jo Ha-suk and Seung Hyung-bae, they explain that child kidnapping is their speciality, and the décor caters to their victims age group. Similar to Park Chan-wook’s Vengeance Trilogy, the humor is as dark as it gets, but it still lands. Also similar to Park Chan-wook is the way Eui-jung finds beauty in the unlikeliest of scenarios, such as when Seung-ah draws flower petals in the dirt around the drops of blood trailing out of the body bag Ah-in and Jae-myung carry. In fact the whole movie is brightly lit, eschewing the dark and claustrophobic lensing that many a small-town Korean thriller tends to indulge in, instead opting to portray the countryside as a place of bright blue skies set to a soundtrack of cicadas.

As events progress it becomes clear that Eui-jung has something to say about those who lack a voice in society, a fact alluded to by the title, but it’s also a theme that rests just below the surface throughout. Ah-in may literally be silent, however even though Seung-ah has a voice, it’s only once she’s with Ah-in that she finds its willing to be listened to. It’s a subtle commentary on the nature of Korean society, and an aspect of the narrative that becomes increasingly prevalent in the closing scenes. The finale itself feels entirely fitting, but also opts to leave an element of ambiguity that may frustrate audiences hoping for a more cut and dry resolution. However anyone who found enjoyment in the likes of Me and Me and Burning will likely find a lot to mull over in the way Eui-jung chooses to wrap things up.

It’s hard to believe Voice of Silence is the work of a first time director, with Eui-jung showing a remarkably assured hand not only in the director’s chair, but also as the scriptwriter (yes Yoo Ah-in doesn’t have any lines, but that doesn’t make the script any less important!). Part crime thriller, part human drama, part offbeat comedy, Voice of Silence weaves in and out of a variety of genres, and in the hands of a lesser filmmaker such disparate elements could well have grated against each other. That’s far from being the case here though, and if anything, Hong Eui-jung has proven herself to be a voice which is very much worth listening to, and I hope we both see and hear more of it very soon.

 Paul Bramhall’s Rating: 7/10