A Quiet Place, Day One: Mediocre Story of the Summer

Over this past week I went to see the newest installment of the Quiet Place franchise.  I fell in love with the first movie, both for technical storytelling reasons and for the movie itself.  Others must have had the same reaction as I, because the series is now on its third movie, this time focusing solely on the beginning of the invasion - or so you would think.  After seeing the movie, I can honestly say I was soundly disappointed with a mediocre story of one woman’s tenacious refusal to become the heroine she had every opportunity to be.

There is a formula that good storytelling typically follows, albeit with some artistic freedom for surprise and variation.  Stories in the classical tradition start in medias res, or in the middle of the overarching situation, event, or environment - anything but a start in the “once upon a time” beginning.  Then follows a narrative of one or two main characters caught up in this middle, many times following a quest that has either been thrust upon them or that they selfishly embark on for their own arbitrary reasons.  Either way, the main characters are focused solely on the proximate demands of their mission, are totally engulfed in the mission per se, and are usually not concerned with what comes after - that will sort itself out.  

Somewhere in the story, some radical choice presents itself to the main characters which question their blind pursuit of their mission, offering them one of two choices.  First, they can take the upset in their mission as an opportunity to realize there is more to life than their mission, offering the freedom to reorient themselves to what life and the overarching mission is all about anyhow.  This would be the creation of the hero in the story, after which the hero or heroine becomes selfless and performs great acts of courage in light of their newfound orientation towards the good.  In this version of the choice, whether or not that original mission is ever accomplished is besides the point: maybe it is, maybe it isn’t.  Maybe the heroine dies, maybe she doesn’t.  But the fullness of the mission is definitely realized and accomplished through the main character’s heroism and dying to self for the good of the other - setting up the main character as an either implicit or explicit Christ figure, depending on whether they actually give their lives for others or only metaphysically do so. 

The other choice sees the main character persisting in their original quest, stubbornly rejecting all the learned values along the way.  And usually, this character does accomplish that arbitrary mission they set out to do - only to find that it is meaningless and empty if it is unaccompanied by the lessons learned and the people our would-be hero has met along the way.  In this version of the choice, two different endings are usually played out.  On one hand, the main character becomes the hero, turning around just in time to save his friends.  In this, he thereby obtains a sense of redemption for himself and still accomplishes the main point of the mission, taking those lessons to heart and teaching others after him.  On the other hand, the story now becomes a reflection on the lasting guilt a person can have when they do not become the hero, when they turn around too late.  Then it becomes a tragedy, a revenge story (resetting the cycle and offering the protagonist opportunities for realizing more to life than their own grief), etc.  

There is, of course, a third option where we see the creation of the anti-hero, but I digress.  The point is, there are key points which make a story worth telling, which cause humans to look at themselves and strive for better.  These are the stories that resonate within the human heart, not recounting our lives as they are but as we want them to be, and what we are called to do.  It is not simply a matter of following this formula to create a good story; by following this formula you can be reasonably sure that you are creating a story worth both your time, and your audience’s time.  A Quiet Place: Day One is simply not a story worth telling, nor worth the time to hear it.

This particular installment in the franchise cannot be faulted for not starting in the classical tradition of in medias res; you are told right in the name that it begins on Day One.  So, that’s not too much of a problem.  And, as the movie starts, it hits all the bases of shaping up to be a good story: tragic woman with hardships of her own, trapped in a situation she only agreed to for her own desires (the condition was she would go to New York if she could get pizza), and stubbornly holding to that mission through thick and thin.  Along the way, she meets a man who desperately needs direction in her life, and she distantly allows him to accompany her, along with her emotional support cat, on her quest.  The stage is set for a good story, but the delivery never arrives.

Our potential heroine has many opportunities for greatness throughout the story.  She is by nature, strong and tough, and her fight with Cancer has left her with the tenacity to cut through that which does not matter to get to the point.  The city is in shambles, and there are lonely children everywhere.  Moreover, there are plenty of people just like her companion by happenstance who simply do not do well in dangerous situations.  People panic, and behave like cows.  There were so many opportunities for her to realize there were people who needed her strengths, specifically in order to survive, it was almost an act of heroism itself to not take any of these opportunities.  

Ignoring opportunities for greatness however do not doom a story (or ourselves) to mediocrity, however: we are all given that last chance, in spite of our tenacity, to see in our selfishness the emptiness of our desire.  But the protagonist in this film feels no regret for passing up greatness, and takes an attitude like Simeon in the temple: now, she can (and intends) to die as if in peace.  To be fair: she has a poor imitation of self sacrifice at the end, when she leads the aliens away from her companion so that he can get to the boat, but it was just that: a poor imitation.  She already planned on getting killed; she merely delayed her intent as rather convenient to help out her friend (and cat).  She literally robbed herself of greatness.

The movie ends with the insinuation that she made noise so that she would get killed.  Now, this is not in itself suicide: she has no obligation to tiptoe, whisper, etc.  Just acting according to her nature would get herself killed, and so the act in itself was not immoral, per se.  The argument could be made that, in keeping with every single other decision she made, it was highly selfish - but not immoral.  Either way, this is not the conversation that surrounds the actions of a hero.  We do not concern ourselves with dissecting the actions of those we wish to emulate to see if they are immoral, or just selfish.  We do both of those actions by ourselves daily; what we want is to be called to higher actions.  

Was the movie relatable?  Maybe.  Inasmuch as we are all selfish, prone to moral dubiousness, and become laser-focused on our own desires, sure.  On a higher level, however, A Quiet Place: Day One is not a relatable story at all.  It is simply the story of one dying woman and her emotional support cat’s quest, in an alien infested New York City, to get pizza and then die.  To be sure, it is a legitimate story in itself: she acts with her freedom, avoids evil, and is purpose driven.  Unfortunately, legitimate as that story is, that is simply one story not worth telling.