It's a rare but precious thing to glimpse the nitty gritty of what it looks like for women to create art — and it's doubly precious and important to see depictions of marginalized women creating so-called "outsider" writing, the creation of art thrice removed from the mainstream white-male-academic canon.
The Silent Twins is a tricky yet brilliantly beguiling feature from Polish filmmaker Agnieszka Smoczyńska for this reason — it shines a powdery, lavender light on the unconventional creative lives, efforts and works of two Black women, twins June (Letitia Wright) and Jennifer (Tamara Lawrance) Gibbons. It shows the Gibbons sisters' creative work to be singular and important in its own right, their lives worthy of being, if not celebrated, then as well-known as those of other famous writers — and the film also takes aesthetic and thematic turns that make it a distinct work of art, in comparison to the traditional biopics audiences are used to.
Andrea Seigel penned the screenplay, basing it off an account by journalist Marjorie Wallace (played here by Jodhi May) about the Gibbons sisters' life and later incarceration at the infamous, high-security psychiatric institution Broadmoor Hospital.
When they're very young, June and Jennifer form a pact, promising each other that they will not speak to others, not even their mother. They confide in only each other as they forge a unique language between them, crafting vast, layered and complexly fantastical worlds for their stories. Their strong shared bond, and especially their silence, are perceived as being abnormal and deeply concerning, resulting in them receiving psychiatric treatment. As adolescents, the girls make more determined efforts to get their works published, enrolling themselves in a writing course, buying a typewriter, and shopping their stories around.
When June realizes that she and her sister will need to live full lives so as to write better fiction — to experience the world in order to write about it intelligently and expertly — the sisters make friends with an American boy, Wayne (Jack Bandeira), who spearheads the sisters' experimentation with drugs, alcohol and crime. After a serious vandalism act lands the girls in Broadmoor, they find themselves forced to separate, having their unique identities and determined silence tested and prodded.
One of the film's most stunning aspects is its depiction of the apparently illogical workings of sisterhood, and how, in June and Jennifer's case, the preternatural sisterly link is the springboard for a rich and lush way of storytelling. For example, the film begins with an exuberance of sound and music, the young girls laughing as they make believe as radio DJs — but this bright and warm fantasy is swiftly punctured by a knock at their bedroom door from their mother (Nadine Marshall), revealing their reality: they sit in their bedroom, silent as their mother moves about them, each digging her nails into her forearm lest she speak. When their mother leaves, Jennifer (played as a child by Eva-Arianna Baxter) hisses at June (played as a child by Leah Mondesir-Simmonds) in the language the girls have created for themselves to keep others out, accusing her of almost having spoken.
Through this oscillating between the world as it is — cold and unkind — and the endlessly expanding cloth of their imaginative world, Smoczyńska shows us how June and Jennifer (though perhaps more June than Jennifer) each work to tell compelling and deeply unique stories. It's a kind of intimate look into the work it takes to create art that we seldom get on the big screen, and by straddling the real and fantastical, The Silent Twins shows it understands how stunning and resonant art can be created from within the mundanities contained within small spaces. We see the sisters passionately bickering, in the way that sisters do, about buying supplies to write, looking through newspapers for courses to take, considering how to make stories better, and discussing what it takes to write a good story, and performing something as pedestrian as collecting unemployment benefits — it's all creative labour that often gets glossed over in biopics about writers.
One of the most affecting scenes in the film is when Wright's June turns to Lawrance's Jennifer and says that they need to live a more interesting life to be able to write more interesting stories. It's a thought that must have nagged at every writer and artist that came before them, and must continue to bite at creatives today. It's a realization about love for the sisters: they need to experience the many facets of love — sex, jealousy, rage and obsession — to be able to write about it. And so they embark upon their crimes with Wayne, which, from the stuffy points of view of the psychiatrists and lawyers and judges who confine them to Broadmoor, are senseless and dangerous. Smoczyńska and Seigel do a compelling job of depicting the sisters' decision-making processes as they confidently stride down unconventional avenues for the sake of their art.
In a lesser film, the uniqueness of June and Jennifer's narrative style and process might not be so apparent, — but here, we get an immersive look into the girls' minds. Oftentimes blurring the lines between fantasy and reality, The Silent Twins dots the brutal world about June and Jennifer with their imaginings, often showing us what events look like filtered through the romantic screen of June's or Jennifer's mind — like when Jennifer is having sex with Wayne, June sees it as a soft, passionate affair, as opposed to the hungry and quick humping it really is. They even anticipate their stay at Broadmoor with a sweet tinge of romanticism, believing it to be a space where they will be able to create and achieve fame with luxurious ease. Their actual short stories are enlivened, too, through stunning stop-motion puppetry, and are punctuated by songs and poems the women wrote. The surrealism of their minds is bathed in warm pastel hues, setting it in stark relief to the steely brutalism of '70s and '80s London.
The Silent Twins that it lacks a thorough biographical focus — we don't get so explanatory a look into how or why the sisters formed a pact of silence — but this is made up for by the film's artistry. The Silent Twins is a touching and complex look into the unique minds of June and Jennifer Gibbons — how they built their pink and purple and blue worlds together, and how these worlds, alongside their psyches, were fractured by the grimy medical system that violently pulled the sisters apart, dulling their minds with invasive drugs, leaving them without the ability to live life as they desired. The sisters are shown to possess a defiant confidence before Broadmoor: they are assured in themselves and the worth of their stories, but the system destroys them as it decides to force them toward conventionality and the status quo. With The Silent Twins, Smoczyńska and her team have bestowed upon us a piece of art depicting two artists who are silenced by the world around them.
(Focus)The Silent Twins is a tricky yet brilliantly beguiling feature from Polish filmmaker Agnieszka Smoczyńska for this reason — it shines a powdery, lavender light on the unconventional creative lives, efforts and works of two Black women, twins June (Letitia Wright) and Jennifer (Tamara Lawrance) Gibbons. It shows the Gibbons sisters' creative work to be singular and important in its own right, their lives worthy of being, if not celebrated, then as well-known as those of other famous writers — and the film also takes aesthetic and thematic turns that make it a distinct work of art, in comparison to the traditional biopics audiences are used to.
Andrea Seigel penned the screenplay, basing it off an account by journalist Marjorie Wallace (played here by Jodhi May) about the Gibbons sisters' life and later incarceration at the infamous, high-security psychiatric institution Broadmoor Hospital.
When they're very young, June and Jennifer form a pact, promising each other that they will not speak to others, not even their mother. They confide in only each other as they forge a unique language between them, crafting vast, layered and complexly fantastical worlds for their stories. Their strong shared bond, and especially their silence, are perceived as being abnormal and deeply concerning, resulting in them receiving psychiatric treatment. As adolescents, the girls make more determined efforts to get their works published, enrolling themselves in a writing course, buying a typewriter, and shopping their stories around.
When June realizes that she and her sister will need to live full lives so as to write better fiction — to experience the world in order to write about it intelligently and expertly — the sisters make friends with an American boy, Wayne (Jack Bandeira), who spearheads the sisters' experimentation with drugs, alcohol and crime. After a serious vandalism act lands the girls in Broadmoor, they find themselves forced to separate, having their unique identities and determined silence tested and prodded.
One of the film's most stunning aspects is its depiction of the apparently illogical workings of sisterhood, and how, in June and Jennifer's case, the preternatural sisterly link is the springboard for a rich and lush way of storytelling. For example, the film begins with an exuberance of sound and music, the young girls laughing as they make believe as radio DJs — but this bright and warm fantasy is swiftly punctured by a knock at their bedroom door from their mother (Nadine Marshall), revealing their reality: they sit in their bedroom, silent as their mother moves about them, each digging her nails into her forearm lest she speak. When their mother leaves, Jennifer (played as a child by Eva-Arianna Baxter) hisses at June (played as a child by Leah Mondesir-Simmonds) in the language the girls have created for themselves to keep others out, accusing her of almost having spoken.
Through this oscillating between the world as it is — cold and unkind — and the endlessly expanding cloth of their imaginative world, Smoczyńska shows us how June and Jennifer (though perhaps more June than Jennifer) each work to tell compelling and deeply unique stories. It's a kind of intimate look into the work it takes to create art that we seldom get on the big screen, and by straddling the real and fantastical, The Silent Twins shows it understands how stunning and resonant art can be created from within the mundanities contained within small spaces. We see the sisters passionately bickering, in the way that sisters do, about buying supplies to write, looking through newspapers for courses to take, considering how to make stories better, and discussing what it takes to write a good story, and performing something as pedestrian as collecting unemployment benefits — it's all creative labour that often gets glossed over in biopics about writers.
One of the most affecting scenes in the film is when Wright's June turns to Lawrance's Jennifer and says that they need to live a more interesting life to be able to write more interesting stories. It's a thought that must have nagged at every writer and artist that came before them, and must continue to bite at creatives today. It's a realization about love for the sisters: they need to experience the many facets of love — sex, jealousy, rage and obsession — to be able to write about it. And so they embark upon their crimes with Wayne, which, from the stuffy points of view of the psychiatrists and lawyers and judges who confine them to Broadmoor, are senseless and dangerous. Smoczyńska and Seigel do a compelling job of depicting the sisters' decision-making processes as they confidently stride down unconventional avenues for the sake of their art.
In a lesser film, the uniqueness of June and Jennifer's narrative style and process might not be so apparent, — but here, we get an immersive look into the girls' minds. Oftentimes blurring the lines between fantasy and reality, The Silent Twins dots the brutal world about June and Jennifer with their imaginings, often showing us what events look like filtered through the romantic screen of June's or Jennifer's mind — like when Jennifer is having sex with Wayne, June sees it as a soft, passionate affair, as opposed to the hungry and quick humping it really is. They even anticipate their stay at Broadmoor with a sweet tinge of romanticism, believing it to be a space where they will be able to create and achieve fame with luxurious ease. Their actual short stories are enlivened, too, through stunning stop-motion puppetry, and are punctuated by songs and poems the women wrote. The surrealism of their minds is bathed in warm pastel hues, setting it in stark relief to the steely brutalism of '70s and '80s London.
The Silent Twins that it lacks a thorough biographical focus — we don't get so explanatory a look into how or why the sisters formed a pact of silence — but this is made up for by the film's artistry. The Silent Twins is a touching and complex look into the unique minds of June and Jennifer Gibbons — how they built their pink and purple and blue worlds together, and how these worlds, alongside their psyches, were fractured by the grimy medical system that violently pulled the sisters apart, dulling their minds with invasive drugs, leaving them without the ability to live life as they desired. The sisters are shown to possess a defiant confidence before Broadmoor: they are assured in themselves and the worth of their stories, but the system destroys them as it decides to force them toward conventionality and the status quo. With The Silent Twins, Smoczyńska and her team have bestowed upon us a piece of art depicting two artists who are silenced by the world around them.
