Heroic Silence: A slow burn that feels like a dusty attic find

Is it worth the time?

Look, if you’re looking for a quick fix or something to put on in the background while you scroll on your phone, skip this. It’s a slow, deliberate piece of work that doesn’t care if you’re bored. But if you’re the kind of person who likes to hunt for old, forgotten films just to see how people used to move and speak on camera? You’ll probably find something to chew on here. It’s got that specific, slightly creaky charm of movies like Una vida por otra where the melodrama feels earned, even when it’s a bit much.

The whole thing feels like it was filmed in a house that hasn't been aired out in a decade. There’s a particular scene where the camera just sits on Emma Roldán’s face for what feels like a lifetime. She isn't doing much—just blinking, really—but the light hits her eyes in this way that makes you stop mid-sip of your coffee. It’s a weirdly human moment in a film that otherwise feels a bit stiff.

The rhythm is... something.

It’s not a smooth ride. Sometimes the dialogue snaps back and forth like a tennis match, and other times, it just hits a wall and stops dead. There’s a bit with Adria Delhort where they’re supposed to be having this huge, life-changing argument, but the timing is so off it almost feels like they’re waiting for a bus. It’s awkward. I think I liked it because of that.

Maybe it’s not meant to be analyzed, but there’s a persistent feeling that the director was just trying to get through the day. Some of the extras in the background look like they’re just waiting for the lunch bell to ring. It’s oddly grounding to see someone in a scene clearly wondering if they left the stove on back home. 🤷‍♂️

• That one door that squeaks every time it closes. You’ll hear it. You can’t un-hear it.
• The lighting is almost entirely shadows. It’s moody, I guess, but good luck seeing what’s happening in the corners.
• Fanny Schiller is doing a lot of heavy lifting here. She’s the only one who seems to know exactly what kind of movie she’s in.

Comparing this to something like Moros y cristianos feels unfair because the energy is just so different. This isn't trying to be clever or light. It’s trying to be heavy. Sometimes it succeeds, mostly by accident, and that’s fine by me. It reminds me a bit of the quiet desperation in No Greater Love, where everything feels just a little bit suffocating.

I left the film feeling like I’d spent an hour talking to a stranger who had a lot to say but forgot to tell me the most important part. It’s imperfect. It’s messy. It’s certainly not for everyone. But for an afternoon where you want to watch something that feels real rather than polished? Sure. Give it a go. Just don’t expect a masterpiece.