Telling the tale of a young Albanian woman who becomes involved in a green card scam, Lorna’s Silence, like The Child, demonstrates how the human body has become a vessel of modern capitalism, without relying on the obvious metaphor of overt prostitution. From the very first moments of the movie, money is always present and of the utmost concern, as it is in most of the Dardennes’ films. Whatever complaints you can rally against this movie, you can’t say it’s detached from reality. Beyond its constant eye on the financial forces that steer us, it has a superb sense of place, even though the Dardennes have, for the first time, made a movie that is not set in their hometown of
They are downright gripping, in fact, until the script (which bizarrely won a prize at this year’s Cannes Film Festival) fails the film. The dissatisfying direction that Lorna’s Silence ultimately settles on is frustrating not so much because it fails to provide satisfying emotional closure, but because it squanders a fascinating and thorny dilemma that saw the protagonist perched between self-interest and selfless devotion. This conclusion feels like a definite mistake. When the subject of study in a film goes insane, it’s difficult to continue to purport that that film is studying morality any longer, even if said insanity is brought about by intense guilt. Moral reckoning requires consciousness, and past a certain point, Lorna is not really conscious of her actions. One could argue, I suppose, that Lorna’s Silence transcends morality at this disjuncture and enters a spiritual realm, but the leap from the humdrum to the transcendent is forced and unconvincing. It’s undeniable that the specificity relayed in every moment of the depiction of Lorna’s humdrum existence trumps the vagueness that surrounds her spiritual awakening.
Rating: 57 /100