Soft & Quiet

The first time I watched “Soft & Quiet,” I genuinely hated it. My initial reaction was one of complete rejection, and my rating reflected that. Yet, I always knew I would revisit it, giving it a second chance with fresh eyes. That time has come.

Rewatching the film, I still recognize the same flaws that frustrated me before, and many of my thoughts remain unchanged. However, I must admit that something shifted. This time, I found myself acknowledging its strengths, particularly in an era where racial hatred, gender identity debates, inflation, wars, lack of opportunities, no meritocracy and the normalization of white, conservative supremacy are more rampant than ever.

This climate of division makes the film’s themes even more urgent. At a time when people are fighting to reclaim their rights, some fall into a spiral of hate-driven violence, unwittingly echoing the same bigoted perspectives they oppose.

The film forces us to confront an uncomfortable truth: prejudice doesn’t just exist in the shadows - it thrives in broad daylight, cloaked in ideas of “common sense,” “heritage pride,” and the perverse logic of “reverse racism.”

Beth de Araújo’s “Soft & Quiet” takes a raw, cinéma vérité approach to its subject matter. The handheld cinematography by Greta Zozula follows the characters like an intrusive specter, heightening the discomfort as the story spirals into chaos. In its final half-hour, the film unleashes sheer panic. Yet, until that moment, its mundanity is its most terrifying aspect - highlighting how white supremacy festers in everyday conversations and polite suburban settings.

The film’s opening is undeniably powerful. The “roundtable” discussion among the women is direct, unsettling, and repugnant in its casual venom. The dialogue cuts deep, making the audience’s skin crawl with its horrifying authenticity. For the first half, “Soft & Quiet” holds a disturbing grip, immersing viewers in its repulsive social dynamics. 

However, this tension fractures in the second half, where the narrative takes an abrupt turn into chaos. The escalation feels surreal, unhinged, and - ironically - a little too messy for a film that initially roots itself in grounded realism.

This is where my biggest issue lies. “Soft & Quiet” had the potential to be a deeply disturbing, layered exploration of ideological violence, but instead, it collapses into a brutal yet directionless descent into carnage. The grotesque shift does evoke raw horror, but it loses the nuance that made the first half so effective. The film ultimately succumbs to spectacle rather than staying true to the horrifying reality it initially set out to expose.

Perhaps this is a reality many refuse to see, but one that undeniably exists. Still, I can’t help but feel there were more effective ways to dissect the insidious nature of white supremacy without the second half losing itself in pure chaos. While I recognize its intent and the harsh truths it presents, the execution ultimately feels ineffective to me.

Does “Soft & Quiet” expose white supremacy’s insidious grip, or does it get lost in its own spectacle of violence?