James Wolcott

“For the role of Karen Silkwood… Meryl Streep not only acquired a brunette do and a twang but also equipped herself with something far more maverick: a dirty mind. In Silkwood… dirty thoughts race like minks across Streep's eyes, and the memory of an off-color joke always seems to be playing at the corners of her mouth. Streep doesn't confine her character's lewd energies to the narrow angles of her face, however; this is most full-bodied performance. She swings her rump like a truck-stop waitress saucing it up with the boys at the counter and, when confronted with authority, flashes her breast. Streep isn't very convincing as a down-home tease--unlike Debra Winger and Jennifer Beals, her body doesn't have a natural sass, and you're aware that her mind is telegraphing sexy twitches of movement southward--but her dedication and nimble, undisguised skill prove to be welcome in Silkwood, a movie in which the world is morosely pulling in on itself, retreating into the folds of death. Actressy as Streep is, she's reaching out to us, trying to establish contact, opposing her flesh against the movie's toxic drizzle. Once her small fire has been smothered, the movie slips off into a hushed, dreamless sleep….

“Except for the performances of Streep and Scarwid, Silkwood suffers from a soft fatalism, making its heroine's death seem like a sad benediction….”

James Wolcott
Texas Monthly, February 1984