Martin Scorsese, perhaps the most Catholic of all American filmmakers, wrote an intro for a 2007 English edition of Shusaku Endo’s 1966 novel “Silence” in which he characterized Christianity as a religious paradox, a philosophical mash-up of faith and questioning, belief and change.

His movie version of “Silence” also qualifies as a paradox, for Scorsese has been passionate about making this film ever since he read Endo’s book — all about passion — 28 years ago.

So why does “Silence” lack the passionate edge of Scorsese’s earlier works “Raging Bull,” “Taxi Driver,” “The Departed” and especially “The Last Temptation of Christ”?

The story’s historical basis begins in 1614 when Japan issued the Edict of Expulsion, a law banning Christianity. Japanese authorities hunted down Christians, tortured and killed them, unless they renounced their faith. Many refused, despite God’s continuous deafening silence.

The drama begins in 1643 when two young Portuguese Jesuit priests — Father Sebastiao Rodrigues (Andrew Garfield) and Father Francisco Garupe (Adam Driver) — set out on a mission to find Father Cristavao Ferreira (Liam Neeson), a revered priest who mysteriously disappeared in Japan some time ago.

Rumors say that Ferreira has done the unthinkable: renounced his faith and taken a Japanese wife.

Under nightfall, Rodrigues and Garupe sneak on to the Japanese coast where they confront a taste of things to come: extreme discomfort, cold, hunger and isolation.

Fortunately, they run into a small pocket of spiritually starved Christians who treat the priests like royalty and introduce them to an English-speaking Japanese man (Tadanobu Asano) who would become their valuable translator and play a significant role in their Christian journey.

Off they go to solve the mystery of the missing Father Ferreira in a stark and hostile land where violence and death lurk around every hill and hut.

From the oft-cited technical standpoint, “Silence” is nothing less than an admirable piece of craftsmanship.

Cinematographer Rodrigo Prieto paints sparse tapestries of foreboding environments, accompanied by a moody, minimalist score from classical composers Kathryn Kluge and Kim Allen Kluge who created nature-inspired tracks so subtle that the Academy of Arts and Sciences’ music branch rejected them as “a substantial body of music.”

The movie itself fails to generate a substantial body of drama in the early going as Scorsese erroneously assumes that a slightly ponderous pace befits an epic that has taken two decades to be made.

The investigating priests, monotonous in speech and action, are defined by little more than their earnest professions of faith and their impressive ability to endure come what may.

Driver creates the more interesting and convincing 17th-century priest over Garfield, who emanates an actorly modern vibe in the leading role. (Yet, his performance as a World War II conscientious objector in “Hacksaw Ridge” blends seamlessly with the setting and material.)

“Silence” isn’t as restrained when it comes to punishments meted out to unwavering Christians, poor souls subjected to beheadings, crucifixions and being suspended upside down with their necks nicked so the blood slowly dribbles out. Drop. By. Drop.

In these scenes, Scorsese’s film ceases to be a paradox.