LOCARNO25 REVIEW: Keep Quiet [20XX]

Rating: NR | Runtime: 104 minutes
Director(s): Vincent Grashaw
Writer(s): Zach Montague

You remember why they hate you … and why they are allowed to.

Teddy (Lou Diamond Phillips) admits that whatever new demons might have been born as a direct result of his actions are just that: new. The indigenous people of Thunderstone have battled one form of corruptive evil or another their whole lives whether it be colonialism, racism, substance abuse, or gang culture. So, while the catalyzing event for this latest violence is unspeakably horrific, the pain isn’t. That’s why Teddy sought to give back to the community in the first place. And it’s why he now carries the burden of what happened upon his own shoulders despite none of it truly being his fault.

A non-Native who grew up in the area, Teddy understands his role as tribal police. Yes, he’s meant to uphold the law, but he’s keenly aware of the nuances inherent to that duty. So, despite his new partner (Dana Namerode’s Sandra) engaging in a cut-and-dry arrest scenario at his side, Teddy simply confiscates their suspects’ weapons and lets them go. It’s a teaching moment about “favors and leverage.” It’s about knowing the players, acknowledging the crimes, and understanding the bigger picture. Putting them in jail won’t stop them from doing it again, but it would prevent a few kids from having a babysitter tomorrow.

Written by a Canadian tribal policeman from his own experiences on the job, Zach Montague imbues the script for Keep Quiet with an undeniable authenticity while director Vincent Grashaw helps balance its need for intensity and penchant for empathy—a skill he’s adeptly evolved ever since his feature debut Coldwater. Think Training Day but with a rogue commanding officer who acts in the community’s interests rather than his own. He doesn’t look the other way to line his pockets as a king. He does it knowing this complex ecosystem exists in the gray. There’s too much sorrow to erase crime. So, you mitigate instead.

Easier said than done on a good day, Thunderstone’s current drama falls on one of its worse. Richie Blacklance (Elisha Pratt) has just been released from prison days after his youngest nephew committed suicide. If he wasn’t already seeking revenge for the death of the boy’s mother five years prior, he certainly is now. More than that, however, he’s also bringing the boy’s brother (Lane Factor’s Albert) under wing to do so. That leads a trail of bodies straight to his mother’s (Irene Bedard’s Chelsea) door. Straight into Teddy’s backyard. And Deputy Humphrey (Nick Stahl) is itching to ignore county jurisdiction to get in on the action.

It’s not just a snowball effect from a yet unrevealed tragedy. It’s an avalanche. Teddy knew it was coming eventually. It’s why he hired Sandra in the first place despite her own checkered jacket. He saw a good heart when everyone else saw a liability. He hoped she’d understand what it was he was doing in the community and not simply dismiss him as going soft like Humphrey and the others in the county station. Because Teddy didn’t just need someone to watch his back. He was desperate for someone to watch the residents’ backs too. From the law. From themselves. From the past.

Montague is not only portraying the cycle of violence within gang culture, but also the cycle of oppression that leads to it. He draws Teddy as a haunted soul with an infamous past who found a way out. A man who put everything he had into helping give young boys an alternative he didn’t have growing up himself. And it worked. That’s why it hurts so much to live with the fallout of it falling apart. He buries that pain, though, because he knows it pales in comparison to the pain everyone else feels. Teddy refuses to hide from the reality that he’s inherently part of the problem. He wears it. He uses it to be better for them.

That truth is as “happy ending” as Keep Quiet gets and it’s not an ending at all—merely the baked in DNA of who Teddy is and his complicated place amongst the reservation. Just think of the words themselves. Who is keeping quiet? What is there to snitch on? Better yet, what isn’t there? Murder, corruption, abuse. The gangs demand loyalty to watch their backs. The sheriff’s department demands it to get “results.” The community holds their dark secret so close that a child resorted to killing himself. So, the only ending that makes sense is one bathed in blood and neither Montague nor Grashaw shies away from delivering it.

I really liked Namerode as our entry point into the story with her own personal baggage to be more than just a voyeur. Pratt is outstanding as the de facto villain (outside of Stahl’s more obvious white devil) whose raw emotions expose the conflict in his heart and inability to conquer his demons long enough to process the trauma he so obviously sees born from his actions. And Phillips steals the show with a role that isn’t flashy like Denzel in Training Day, but still as vital and magnetic via an immense wealth of introspection. His Teddy knows that blindly protecting the law feeds its corrupt system. So, he protects the vulnerable instead.