"A Quiet Place: Day One" delivers a shockingly effective prequel with Lupita Nyong'o leading the charge in silent horror

NEW YORK, NEW YORK - JUNE 26: (L-R) John Krasinski, Michael Sarnoski, Malik Yoba, Lupita Nyong'o, Joseph Quin and Alex Wolff attend Paramount's "A Quiet Place: Day One" New York Premiere at AMC Lincoln Square Theater on June 26, 2024 in New York City.

ALBAWABA - "A Quiet Place: Day One" debuted in Manhattan with a roar, a disturbing body count, and a healthy dose of audience mistrust.

It is a shockingly effective prequel to the 2018 blockbuster about aliens who are sensitive to noise and will consume anyone who has ever irritated a librarian. If the franchise's characters are speechless, then what's the point?

Lupita Nyong'o (who is just wonderful) leads a group of human performers. However, the cat that has the horror franchise's fans in its thrall is the main subject of today's chat.

Nevertheless, Michael Sarnoski, who is stepping in for John Krasinski as director of "A Quiet Place," brings a daring concept to the series in his introduction. Lupita Nyong'o stars as Sam, a cancer sufferer who is prepared to die. Sam isn't okay with dying; in fact, she's hostile, cynical, and nasty toward everyone in the hospice, including her loving nurse (Alex Wolff).

Sam, a fragile poet high on painkillers, has nothing to live for and no illusions that she can save the world. Instead, she forges on with her own modest ambition: would she be able to sneak up to Harlem and have her favorite pizza? The final pizza that anyone eats at a pizzeria, the one you fantasize about, will almost certainly be cold, unattended, and maybe even eaten by rats. Even so, what will her last meal be like if it doesn't kill her?

"Pig" (2021), an intellectually independent thriller starring Nicolas Cage as an angry chef, is the only feature film that Sarnoski has worked on. The up-and-coming star takes advantage of the situation to question the appeal of catastrophe films featuring mass casualties. The film thrusts us into the terror and mayhem of the aliens' arrival, driven primarily by the obvious desire for thrills. The camera whirls around a Chinatown sidewalk covered in ash clouds, creating a dizzying and confusing scene meant to bring back the horror of 9/11. While the other survivors quickly realize they can't cry, call for aid, or even cough up dust, Nyong'o and Quinn watch with large, moist eyes as they experience silent, gut-wrenching terror. I really want our leadership to communicate more directly with each other. Meanwhile, the amplified sound mix causes our chairs to shake and our teeth to grind in order to compensate for the nonexistent speech.

However, Sarnoski is well aware that the allure of these films lies in our inherent inquisitiveness about our own decision-making abilities in comparison to the personalities shown. We may easily make fun of an unfamiliar person dragging rolling luggage along the street. Just as we're about to brag, editors Andrew Mondshein and Gregory Plotkin cut to a different shot—this time of someone wheeling a shaky wheelchair—carrying a loved one. In those times of moral paralysis, when we see wounded New Yorkers stumbling around the screen unsupported and unrecognized, we also realize that we probably won't be able to save the world. Then what? Even that old pepperoni slice is beginning to entice me.

Provided by SyndiGate Media Inc. (Syndigate.info).