Warning: Full spoilers follow for A Quiet Place: Day One.
In John Krasinski’s A Quiet Place, we’re dropped head-first into an ongoing apocalypse, like starting The Walking Dead in Season 4. In his sequel, A Quiet Place Part II, we follow existing characters further into the future without doubling back to starting lines. Krasinski was always moving forward, but people love a good origin story. Enter breakout writer and director Michael Sarnoski (Pig) and his idea for A Quiet Place: Day One, a spin-off prequel detailing the first touchdown of Krasinski’s silent-but-deady aliens (now known as Death Angels) in loud-as-heck New York City.
As a prequel, Sarnoski’s entry would presumably answer all our questions about why, when, and how Earth fell to sound-seeking monsters, staying in line with Krasinski’s traditional horror foundation about perpetual silence and ferocious extraterrestrials.
Well, you’ve all heard the saying about why you should never assume things, right?
A Quiet Place: Day One fits into Krasinski’s hushed world of survival by muteness, but it’s hardly the same brand of horror-thriller. In fact, it’s hardly a monster movie in comparison — most of Sarnoski’s prequel is simply the story of two souls who find each other when all else seems lost. Sure, Day One is crawling with the vicious invaders who plummeted from above and overtook the five boroughs like Santa Con on steroids — but they’re not as prevalent as you’d think. Sarnoski barely inflates pre-existing mythos about these crosses between Starship Troopers footsoldier bugs and Demogorgons. It’s a prequel that manages to avoid explaining the monsters and their invasion beyond Cloverfield logic because sometimes otherworldly beasties drop from the sky and we just have to cope.
That sounds frustrating, right? It’s not. Sarnoski defies convention by investing in human experiences within the microcosm of an iconic American cityscape. Monster movies like Cloverfield (after locating Beth) or Godzilla are about civilians dashing toward evacuation points while dodging imminent threats, whereas A Quiet Place: Day One heads away from promised safety. The narrative isn’t about escape, nor is Sarnoski beholden to typical blueprints that follow large-scale doomsday tropes. As hordes of New Yorkers shuffle their way towards South Street Seaport, where government announcements promise safe passage, the camera follows two souls on a personal side quest. It’s a shockingly beautiful approach.
The subversion starts early by introducing Lupita Nyong'o’s lead character, Sam, as a hospice patient with little time left on the clock. In horror movies, we typically follow characters who are desperate to live — but Sam is ready to die. She’s long accepted her fate, channeling angst through journaled poetry. Sam’s not bothered by instructions over radio frequencies with coordinates or warnings. Sam only ventured into New York City in the first place to taste traditional NYC pizza one last time before she passes away. That’s still her goal when Death Angels start crashing into asphalt and tearing people apart. Sam wants a slice of Patsy’s pizza in East Harlem, and then she can finally rest (eternally). She’s accepted her fate, and impending doom doesn’t curb her cravings.
With this set-up, Sarnoski scripts a soulfully wholesome drama within the confines of a ruthless “When Monsters Attack” bubble. Nyong'o is sublime as Sam, selling her condition's frailty and willful determination to exit on her own terms with such affirming agency. People are being pro-wrestling speared by Death Angels left and right while she’s laying low, traveling from Chinatown to Harlem to recreate one of the last happy memories that she’s retained through her medical battles. We learn how Sam’s father was a talented jazz musician who entertained at a club next door, and Patsy’s was their tradition, developing a bittersweet sympathy behind Sam’s otherwise ridiculous-at-first-glance quest. Sarnoski isn’t afraid to ditch attack scenes in favor of Sam’s achingly sincere last wish because the pizza isn’t just pizza; it’s her gateway to peacefully saying goodbye.
Enter Joseph Quinn as a law student named Eric who emerges from a flooded subway station with an alarming expression plastered on his face, only to see a pretty kitty staring back at him. Sam’s black-and-white pet cat named Frodo, to be specific. (Yes, there’s a feline companion along for the ride and they’re one of the movie's highlights, nimbly exploring a crumbling New York City while Sam hides from murderous monsters.) Frodo leads Eric to Sam, and the terrified man in business casual attire pleads to follow Sam because he’s petrified. So begins their beautiful union — two strangers who find companionship under the worst possible circumstances.
Sarnoski chooses to explore a desolate New York City where everyone has fled towards the water, drawing Death Angel attention. Sam, Eric, and Frodo traverse this eerily romanticized version of New York City that’s completely silent, devoid of honking taxies, blaring sirens, and construction clatter. It’s also incredibly unsettling to anyone who’s visited or lived in New York City, because if the Big Apple is finally asleep, that means something awful has happened. Sam sneaks Eric into her apartment for medication refills, where the duo briefly screams their lungs out (hidden by thunderclaps), their agonizing howls the only sounds in what should be a rented-full complex. Later, Eric encounters an alien feeding ground, but a few visuals are left to our interpretation, and we’re not any wiser about alien behaviors afterward. The New York City we know is gone, and in the grand scheme of sustainable dread, it doesn’t matter what’s taken over.
That might sound like a cheat code, but Sarnoski’s greatest accomplishment is making us care more about these forlorn characters than mysterious Death Angel lore. A Quiet Place: Day One is a stealth relationship drama that swells with emotional resonance, deceptively avoiding the pitfalls of repetitive monster attack films. Characters unlock comfort in togetherness, building a connection that’s lovingly nurtured into a creatively sweet and empowering story about mortal perseverance. So often we follow characters who are afraid to die, then get devoured by a kaiju, or beheaded by an animalistic berzerker. Here, Sarnoski helps Sam and Eric not fear the end, and instead choose to spend whatever time they have left sharing a smile or two before the Grim Reaper pays one or both a visit. Death as motivation, but not from a place of scarring terrors.
If we’re praising Sarnoski, we must also applaud Nyong'o and Quinn. For Sarnoski’s minimalized storytelling risks to pay off, we must genuinely care about what happens to Sam and Eric. There has to be a reason why we’re not thinking about where the baddies have gone, and why there’s no more violence-spiked tension on our screens. Nyong'o and Quinn’s collaborative performances exhibit thick-as-thieves chemistry, warming our insides when they’re sipping whiskey in an abandoned bar like long-lost besties, or causing tense anxiety when their lives are in danger. Sam and Eric are characters written on paper; Nyong'o and Quinn bring them to life. The result is so much more than typical chewed-and-spit-out body counts.
Sarnoski’s fixation on food as salvation — specifically on (superior) New York City slices — might seem random in the context of A Quiet Place, but that’s precisely why it works. It’s a culinary carryover mentality from Pig, which works wonders even under horror-warped duress. There’s something to be said about Sam’s pursuit of happiness, and why the tangy tomato sauce, or bubbly mozzarella mixture is more rewarding than a vessel to possible safe-havens. Joe doesn’t have to be with her either, but chooses to thrive together versus possibly die alone. These are real people making emotionally charged decisions that aren’t “rational,” but that’s what’s so profoundly affecting about A Quiet Place: Day One. It’s that defiance to operate unlike monster movies in general that makes Sarnoski's unexpected origin a worthy franchise complement. There’s no bait-and-switch; it’s a secret menu item, an awards-worthy tale of companionship and humanity smuggled inside a grotesque alien skinsuit.
I’ve always joked that a 28 Years Later sequel should be a romantic comedy after the rage virus has been cured, and that’s kinda-sorta the trick A Quiet Place: Day One pulls. You’ll still hold your breath as Sam is almost trampled by herds of pedestrians fleeing from the sonically seduced creatures, but once the dust settles, the only sounds are plucked heartstrings. It should be an infuriating result — a horror movie that doesn’t really care to act like one. In actuality, Sarnoski achieves the unthinkable and wins all my attention with probably the most relatable apocalypse story I’ve ever watched?
“The world’s ending, and I demand a taste of my favorite pizza before it’s over.” I get it.
