Joel Kinnaman Can’t Escape a Ho-Hum Thriller

After seeing Joel Kinnaman make do without the use of his voice in last year’s “Silent Night,” he returns to films with the word “silent” in them in “The Silent Hour,” this time playing a character struggling with the rapid-onset loss of his hearing. The trouble is director Brad Anderson and screenwriter Dan Hall fail to properly mine the protagonist’s distressing predicament for its maximum potential, particularly after he’s hunted by a crew of criminals, relegating him and his deaf companion to an insular location. Not only does it lack a satisfying payoff when it comes to its set-up of intriguing, character-driven action sequences, the narrative’s emotional pull also yields diminishing returns.

Detective Frank Shaw (Kinnaman) is a divorced dad, living in a modern apartment set away from the cacophonous clatter of Boston’s traffic and sirens. It’s there where he finds peaceful sanctuary, keeping fit and listening to his collection of jazz records as he reflects on his balcony, sipping his morning coffee. He’s also eagerly anticipating giving his music-loving teen daughter Sami (Katrina Lupi) a guitar for her birthday. However, he’s about to experience a major shift in his life. While out on a routine investigation with his financially-strapped partner, Detective Doug Slater (Mark Strong), a suspect leads him on a maze-like chase weaving between shipping containers and smack into the path of an oncoming vehicle. This lands him with a scarred head wound and drastic hearing impairment.

Almost a year after the accident, Shaw’s anxieties about returning to the workforce have metastasized due to his newfound condition worsening. His hearing aids hinder his abilities and he’s aware of the challenges of using sign language in a world that’s not amenable to it. Still, Slater persists in getting Shaw’s career back on track, enlisting his help as an interpreter in a case involving Ava (Sandra Mae Frank), a deaf former junkie who recorded a murder outside her soon-to-be condemned apartment building. But just as ruthless gang leader Mason (Mekhi Phifer) and his thugs arrive to tie up their loose ends, Shaw rescues her. Trapped on the empty floors, the duo attempt to outwit their offenders using each others’ expertise – his experience with the criminal underbelly and her negotiation of the building’s quirks.

If only their cat-and-mouse pursuit was livelier than as conceptualized by the filmmakers. Outside of scenes where the pair figure out their version of a secret knock utilizing sight (wiggling a dollar bill under the door), and the precise moment to blast death metal in a disgruntled neighbor’s pad, their deafness isn’t an asset to their survival. More often it’s a detriment, whether it be when phoning for help on an elevator’s landline, or when being apprehended from behind when their backs are turned to a door or hallway, or the most egregious of their blunders, when one of them accidentally steps on bubble wrap as the baddies converse in the next room.

Shaw and Ava, regardless of their disability, go through predictable motions evading their captors stationed inside and out, using the fire escape, hiding in the abandoned lofts, scooting across thin ledges and running down the building’s Hitchcockian stairwell. While there’s a modicum of tension in the elevator shaft sequence,,by and large the would-be suspense only leads to frustration that our heroes weren’t given innovative obstacles to surmount.

It’s not as if Anderson and Hall lazily construct their characters, as they are gifted with interesting internal motivations. They even add admirable commentary on gentrification, financial inequality and displacement. For Shaw, what drives him is personal and professional, being able to complete his career obligations and find joy in his daughter’s music recitals. For Ava, it’s staying off drugs and not succumbing to grief and depression. Kinnaman and Frank elevate the material’s blander notes.

For gangleader Mason, it’s sacrificing his life to get money for an ailing daughter’s medical needs. His right-hand henchman Angel (Michael Eklund) is fleshed out with levity once his character gets doped up by a medic (Djinda Kane), so badass that she warrants her own spinoff. Yet the way the narrative comes together lacks noticeable finesse, specifically when it comes to a certain character reveal that can be seen coming from a mile away.

While the film’s first act does a decent job audibly connoting Shaw’s struggles, as the soundtrack emulates tinnitus and malfunctioning hearing aids, it only allows infrequent glimpses into Shaw’s and Ava’s compromised perspectives thereafter — something the material could’ve used to better advantage. Anderson’s workmanlike execution does the action sequences no favors, as his point-and-shoot approach to the fisticuffs and shootouts doesn’t create much in the way of tension or thrills. All of this gives the picture a stale quality, when the premise promises something more fresh and kinetic.