First Contact, the End of the World, and Day One of A Quiet Place
It is the first day of an alien invasion. Samira (Lupita Nyong’o) — Sam to her friends — has ventured into New York City with therapist Reuben (Alex Wolff) and a busload of fellow hospice patients to attend a puppet show. Suddenly, without warning, strange objects fall from the sky and, moments after they crash into the earth, vicious creatures begin attacking every living thing that makes any noticeable sound.
This is A Quiet Place: Day One. A prequel to the surprise 2018 box office smash A Quiet Place (with veteran character actor Djimon Hounsou reprising his role from the 2020 sequel), this latest entry in the series is written and directed by acclaimed Pig filmmaker Michael Sarnoski. John Krasinski, the director and co-star of the previous installments, also returns, this time picking up an original story credit (alongside Sarnoski) along with helping out behind the scenes as one of this interstellar creature-feature’s producers.
The best thing this latest entry in the series does is pick things up with entirely new characters (save Hounsou’s, but his appearance is more of an extended cameo than anything else) and transpires in a location light years away from the other two films. While A Quiet Place Part II did contain a brief prologue showing the initial attack on humanity, this still happened in a relatively secluded location, concerned itself with characters the audience was already acquainted with, and never showed the full horrific scale of what was happening.
That’s decidedly not the case here. Sarnoski takes the action straight into the heart of the Big Apple. Noise is virtually impossible to avoid, which means the creatures are always nanoseconds away from attacking. Millions of people have no way to properly navigate their way through the carnage, and the level of death and destruction is unavoidably heart-wrenching.
But as suddenly as Sarnoski drops the hammer right in the heart of Manhattan, he equally as quickly recalibrates and focuses every ounce of the narrative’s attention on Sam. She’s damaged, possibly beyond repair, and due to her health condition has basically given up on, not only her life but on everyone else’s, too. Only her cat, Frodo, seems to mean anything to her. It would take something catastrophic to break through the protective nihilistic shell Sam has encased herself within, and marauding monsters intent on global domination hit that precise bull’s eye.
Those anticipating another intense start-to-finish thrill ride comparable to the other two A Quiet Place entries might want to check those expectations at the door. While Sarnoski does stage a handful of exquisitely tense set pieces — the opening attack is marvelous, as is a second act chase through the streets and skyscrapers of New York that ultimately culminates inside a rapidly flooding subway tunnel — this effort turns out to be a thoughtful treatise on humanism, sacrifice, and resilience. It is about living life confidently and in your own way, and even when knowing death is inevitable, it is about still finding the courage to do the right thing no matter how minimal the odds for success might be.
While this shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone, Nyong’o is magnificent. Most of what she does is understandably silent, and the actor only has precious few lines of dialogue. That means everything relies upon her body movements and facial inflections, in how she reacts to what is happening around her and to any of the other actors she shares a particular scene with. This is a devastatingly haunting portrait of self-exploration and understanding that runs the full emotional gamut, and Nyong’o commands the screen much like she did in Us and in 12 Years a Slave. This is one of 2024’s best performances.
Much of Nyong’o’s scenes are with Joseph Quinn, probably best known for his eight-episode arc in season four of Stranger Things. He portrays Eric, an Irish law student who runs into Sam entirely by chance and then is compelled to stick with her, even though she does not appear to have any interest in soundlessly making her way towards the safety of the waterfront. Together, Quinn and Nyong’o make the semi-prickly character dynamics Eric and Sam deal with come across with authentic brio, and I loved how the practically effortless way their bond of mutual understanding and empathetic friendship materialized with such graceful authority.
I guess it should be noted that, unlike its predecessors, even with its larger scale and grander setting, the scares in this prequel are negligible. At this point, I knew what the aliens were capable of and how they tend to react in any given situation, and while that doesn’t make them any less dangerous, it does mean I found the horror quotient to be on the lower end of the spectrum.
Not that this bothered me. There’s still ample tension throughout, and with Sarnoski putting so much emphasis on the two primary characters (who they are, what makes them tick, and the emotional connection that joins them at the hip), I was so personally involved that it never mattered that I found the fright-factor to be wanting. Much like he did with Pig, the filmmaker grounds sensationalistic events in something genuine, humble, and human. Sam has to learn how to relive life while she’s sitting at death’s doorstep and subsequently reminds every viewer in the theater of poetic universal truisms that have everlasting staying power.
There is a signature scene in A Quiet Place: Day One that typifies these truths beautifully. Sam, now on her own and determined to return home no matter how impossible that may appear, encounters a pair of children hiding within the cascading waterfalls of a large stone fountain. Are they siblings? Or did the older rescue the younger when the world around them was raining terror from the sky?
Those questions aren’t important. The answers to them are even less so. Sam, initially out for herself and her own immediate needs, sees them and immediately takes action. She can’t know if she can save them. She hasn’t any clue if they will survive to see adulthood. But she can help them get through this moment and, by doing so, may give them what they need to carry on and to see multiple dawns. She can give them the hope to understand that tomorrow, no matter how scared you are, is always worth fighting for, and sometimes taking the first step is as easy as sharing a protein bar.
A single act of kindness. A monetary instance of compassion. That’s all it takes to help someone in their darkest hour. Heck, it may even be enough to save the world.
Film Rating: 3½ (out of 4)
