Don't Ignore the Signs: An Analytical Review of "The Silent Child"

The Silent Child is a phenomenal short film brought to light by the most recent Oscar Awards. The screenplay was written by Rachel Shenton, an actress and ambassador for the National Deaf Children's Society, as well as directed by Chris Overton. The messages addressed in the film are raw and heartfelt as the audience watches a young deaf girl named Libby leave her isolation of misunderstandings and embrace the communication and community a social worker offers in the form of sign language. I believe this film is so striking because the cinematography and script lend itself to the power of feeling understood. The film plays with lighting and framing to enhance that meaning, and the script shows us through the characters reactions.

For instance, there is a moment where Libby and the Joanne (the social worker) exuberantly talk in the light, outside. Libby has been learning sign language for some time, and her built relationship with Joanne, someone who understands Libby is like a breath of fresh air. Meanwhile, the next shot shows Libby's mother Sue, lurking behind the curtains, watching, drenched in darkness. At this moment, Sue feels alienated. She isn't understood by Libby, and sign language has broadened that barrier by providing a true confidante Libby can speak with. These emotions are heightened for the audience by the contrast of light and dark. Without the illumination of being understood, one is left in the dark.

The power of being understood is also embedded in the plot. The film ends with Libby ripped from the very tools that empower her. To withhold a happy ending from an audience is risky, but necessary to show how destitute one can be without a form of showing their capabilities. Beforehand the audience sees her in class, unaware of the spelling test taking place. It relied on hearing. The plot creates a poignant loss for the audience as one sees exactly how promising Libby's future can look with a means of communication, and the drastic shift once it is taken away. The cinematography captured the essence of that in the last shot. Joanne had rushed to Libby's school, in hopes to console her in some way. Libby signs, "I love you" Tears trickle down Joannes face as she signs it back. The camera zooms in on Libby, removing the audiences view of her hands. The camera cuts off the most integral form of her communication, just as the mother did to Libby. She could be signing underneath, but the audience will never know. Libby's thoughts could be boiling underneath, but her mother revoked the potential for her to express them as efficiently as possible.

The film could not have ended with a harder punch. The screen shows shocking statistics of how many deaf children are bereft of help with their condition. Then the screen reminds the audience deaf people can be anything they want to with a good support system. The team of "The Silent Child" is begging for that support system to be built. Some say it lacks art form to brazenly enlist the audience with those statistics, the work should speak for itself. In this case, it was a an empowering form of communication, with a message that deserves to be as clear as possible, giving voice to those who the world perceives as having none.