R. Colin Tait

Directors Ha and Yi’s unflinching portrait of Lee is also admirable, as the movie shows the overall effects of a system indifferent to people who fall through its cracks. By staying with Lee and his story, from his early years in Korea, to his later years in America as an injured ex-convict, the documentary shows how the damage to Lee occurred, both as a death row inmate and a reluctant figurehead for the movement that coalesced around him.

Soft and Quiet begins as subtly as its title implies. It sneaks up on you. By the time you realize what it’s actually about, it’s too late and you are swept into a narrative (and a world) that you do not want to be a part of.

By showing mainstream audiences what the everyday lives of these young women looks like, and by showing the metaphorical and political significance of reversing the racist tropes that dominate popular culture, the film makes a substantial contribution to the ongoing discussion of North American history generally, and more importantly, who gets to tell their own stories.

It’s good without being elevated or necessarily great. But it has enough scares to qualify as a decent “dark place” movie without breaking the mold.