Review: Young black love battles oppression in Barry Jenkins’s ethereal “If Beale Street Could Talk”

Barry Jenkins’s latest piece of cinematic fantasia begins in sensual fashion, but considering the sensibilities at play, that’s to be expected. We sweep and glide and spy on two young, black lovers strolling through a city park, approaching ever closer without knowing it until the camera is right up alongside them.

“You ready for this?” Alonso asks, to which Tish replies she’s never been more ready for anything.

Perhaps it’s because of modern, continuously evolving ruminations of love and relationships that we’re tempted to overthink what exactly “this” is. Is it marriage, a child or another otherwise drastic change to come that will test the couple? Is he going off to war? Is she leaving town, him unable to follow? Are they somehow aware of what’s to come—that Alonso, or “Fonny” as he’s called, will soon be arrested for an alleged rape he denies he committed? Continue reading →

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Are the Oscars about to take a step back?

There’s more than one reason why we continue to remember the final Oscar awarded on the evening of February 26, 2017 – or, more specifically, the act of its awarding – as a shocking turn of events for the Academy Awards, awards shows in general and those involved, not to mention the millions watching at home.

If dictionaries included video examples of its entries, we would see this under “fiasco”: Those few moments, witnessed then and recalled now as feeling like much longer, when golden statuette-clutching “La La Land” producer Jordan Horowitz announced that the actual Best Picture winners were in fact those behind “Moonlight.” And legitimately so; it remains an absurd occurrence, an oft-forgotten example of the mayhem that can unfold on live television.

When the golden Oscar dust had settled, however, when all the actors (pun partially intended) involved had said their piece on what happened and media outlets broke down the sequence of events like an episode of “CSI,” a more historically impactful (and decidedly less clickbaity) reason for that event’s enduring legacy began to emerge. Continue reading →

Why ‘Moonlight’ deserves Best Picture over ‘La La Land’

To say it hasn’t already won the hearts of the Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences – and the movie scene in general – with its record-tying 14 Oscar nominations would feel like a false statement.

But if history has anything to say about it, a victory for “La La Land” in the Best Picture race isn’t a total lock. Cinephiles will remember last year, when it seemed the Leonardo DiCaprio-Alejandro Iñárritu vehicle “The Revenant” had all the momentum, before the journalism drama “Spotlight” stole Oscar gold in the biggest category.

“La La Land” is critically revered and audience-adored, and viewing it through the scope as a tribute to classic Hollywood, it would be a risky gamble to bet against it as the film the Academy names the best of the year on Feb. 26.

But here’s a case for the movie that very well surprise everyone on Oscar Night; at least, those who haven’t experienced it yet. Whether the Academy recognizes it as such or not, “Moonlight” – the $1.5 million indie project by Barry Jenkins that explores masculinity and identity in crack-riddled Miami – is the best picture of the year. And it deserves to be named the Best Picture of the year.

It isn’t that seemingly every element in “Moonlight” works so perfectly and cohesively that it feels like living, breathing poetry.

It isn’t that the film – somewhat miraculously, seemingly effortlessly – makes three very different, very unknown actors portraying one character legitimately feel like one person at three different stages of his life, a la Boyhood without the gimmick.

It isn’t that (well, ok, it’s a tiny bit this) honoring “Moonlight” as the year’s best film would serve as a stamp of recognition of its masterful nature, on a night when it will be very difficult for the drama to pick up Oscar gold in anything outside of the Best Supporting Actor race for Mahershala Ali.

It’s the fact that, while it’s so easy to watch “La La Land” and imagine it taking place in the ‘50s if you remove the iPhones, “Moonlight” is so completely in tune with its time and place and setting. Even as it takes place more around the turn of the century, its subject matter couldn’t be more simultaneously relevant and timeless.

In an age when historical dramas and Hollywood-worshipping throwbacks have become synonymous with Oscar bait, “Moonlight” instead represents something so different, so inherently human in its intimacy and relative small-scale nature that it’s almost a wonder it was recognized by the Academy at all.

The story of Chiron over three distinct phases of his life isn’t an easy watch, but a substantial part of that is because it’s made in a way that we haven’t seen very much before in film, if at all. It’s a hauntingly beautiful portrait of urban America, one that it seems we’ve been waiting on for a long time, like a distant stretch of land that we can see for years from the ocean before we final reach its lush shores.

There’s extremely little dialogue in “Moonlight,” probably as much over its entire running time as the first 30 minutes of “La La Land.” When characters do speak, Jenkins’ screenplay makes every word count, but it’s the long looks between them that speak volumes more the subject matter than any movie not from the silent film era.

Whereas “La La Land” tells a story of big dreams and the sacrifices we take to reach them in the brightest of lights, “Moonlight” contemplates much more basic urges, ones that are almost primal in their longing to answer a simple question: Who am I? And it does so without wasting nary a single frame, each beautiful shot as engrossing as anything conjured up by Damien Chazelle.

At a time when, on a political and social level, so much is being made about identity, sexuality, masculinity, and the interweaving of the three, “Moonlight” simply screams 2017, in its art and in its spirit. And it does so much in the same way “Pulp Fiction” is associated by so many with 1994, “The Social Network” earnestly captured the early 2000s, and “E.T.” the paranoid, childlike wonder of the ‘70s.

None of those won Best Picture, either.

2016’s 10 Best Films

In 2016, seemingly more than ever before, the movie theater proved necessary as the most accessible of respites from turbulent, unexpected and sometimes harsh realities of the world.

Even for a critic who wasn’t able to catch some of the more enticing titles of the year – and who is still waiting for Oscar hopefuls like “Silence,” “La La Land,” “Fences” and “Paterson” to come to a theater near him – this year’s films provided an incredibly diverse array of places and situations to experience.

History-defining encounters with visitors from other worlds. Hollywood’s most heroic figures fighting each other instead of alongside each other. Animated grocery items engaging in all-out war against humans.

Hollywood showed us in 2016 that internal struggles and immensely personal journeys can be just as thrilling as traversing the farthest reaches of space. It also showed that while popular franchises will continue to spawn seventh, eight, ninth movies, wholly original stories can still be created and told through innovative methods of not only the technological sort, but through appeals to what energizes the most successful films – connections with those watching them.

As previously mentioned, it’s nearly impossible to catch every big movie that comes out every year, and even harder to find time for the treasures that seemingly come out of nowhere to universal praise and acclaim. The year isn’t done, the Oscars still weeks away with many movies still to come out between now and then.

But for now, here are my top 10 films of 2016. Some of them were no-brainers for inclusion; others that you don’t see on this list were tough to leave out. In the end, these films all are connected by one trait: an understanding and embodying of the power of film to be bigger than simply the images we see on the screen.

 

10. Hail, Caesar!

Months before “La La Land” was hailed for bringing back the feeling of Golden Age-era Hollywood, we got a movie that functioned as a love letter to the indomitable spirit of mid-1900s cinema. The Coen Brothers’ latest is also probably their most straightforward, a hilarious and memorable montage of pieces from fictional films inspired by real classics that makes the most of its fantastic ensemble.

From my review: It sounds like a rough gamble, but the Coens make it work. “Hail, Caesar”  may not necessarily be their most thought-provoking work or their most memorable – a testament to their varied catalogue – but one gets the sense that if they know they have left the audience awed by the majesty of 1950s cinema, then they’ve done their job.

 

9. Southside With You

Strong writing and an incredible pair of performances by Parker Sawyers and Tika Sumpter give life to this story inspired by the first prolonged encounter of America’s First Couple. The more that young Michelle Robinson and Barack Obama learn about each other and the environment they grew up in, the more we feel a new dynamic between ourselves and the figureheads they would eventually become.

From my review: Director Richard Tanne offers a film that is consistently poignant, charming, and also very, very relevant. He struck gold with Tika and Parker Sawyers, who embody everything that has come to be associated with the 21st century Obamas – their vocal and physical mannerisms, their grounded nature – while also reminding us that this version of the future presidential duo still has some things to learn about the world around them.

 

8. Moana

With “Moana,” Disney officially closes the chapter of outdated unwritten rules that dictate what female characters in the studio’s movies can be and stand for. The film’s action is memorable, its music buoyant and fulfilling, its message universal: where we go next is just as important as where we came from and where we are.

From my review“Moana” has a lot to offer, with middle and concluding acts that are equal parts satisfying after a beginning that could have felt much more sluggish in different hands. Its biggest success, however, lies in how Disney is able to poke fun at itself for having been so reliant on one-dimensional stories of the princesses of yestercentury, in a way that signifies a changing of the guard.

 

7. Jackie

The untold story of Jacqueline Kennedy’s quest to define her husband’s legacy in the wake of his assassination is a fascinatingly layered and complex one. Portman is downright tantalizing as the former First Lady, a performance that permits her entrance into the discussion of contemporary cinema’s most consistently surprising performers.

From my review“Jackie” is a heavy, cerebral film. It’s not supposed to be easy to understand; the way in which Portman walks, stares and dresses has as much to say as her dialogue. Multiple viewings are a must, even though this isn’t a film most would be willing to return to immediately.

 

6. Zootopia

In a very strong year for animation, “Zootopia” was arguably the strongest work in the genre. Adults might get more out of it, not just for the hilarious references, but also for its no-holds-barred portrayal of racial tension in contemporary America. It’s brutally honest, making it incredibly relevant – a time capsule future generations might return to in the way we hold “American History X” and “Hotel Rwanda” in such high historical regard.

 

5. The Witch

With “The Witch,” first-time director Robert Eggers bursts onto the scene with sound, fury and one of the most atmospherically haunting films of the decade. A tale that delves into the dangers of isolation and religious fanaticism, there is more paranoia to be had with “The Witch” than many real-world events, especially with Eggers having drawn inspiration and details from historical documents to paint as ominously realistic a snapshot as possible of Puritan New England.

From my reviewFrom the intimate cinematography to the score reminiscent of a creeping, hooded danger following us on a lonely road at night, “The Witch” excels at providing a very different level of fright. The film mimics a slow, energy-draining ride to the top of a roller-coaster with your eyes closed – the audience knows a drop is coming, and a big one, but not quite when.

 

4. Hell or High Water

You’ve seen heist movies before, but not one like this. Set in the vast, unsaturated emptiness of rural Texas, Taylor Sheridan’s script makes you empathize with the outlaws more than the boys in blue on their tail. The movie is thrilling and intelligent while also making us take stock of the things we own that truly belong to us.

As it turns out, it may not be very much.

From my reviewWhile exploring all these motifs and themes, the film remains briskly paced with huge entertainment value, and a climax that is both open-ended and also incredibly satisfying. Whether for the analytical filmgoer or the one just looking for a good time to be had, watching Hell or High Water once certainly isn’t enough. Five or 10 times might not be sufficient, either.

 

3. Arrival

It might be too soon to anoint Denis Villeneuve’s ascent as the second coming of Francis Ford Coppola. But after three big-time swings – “Prisoners,” “Sicario” and now “Arrival” – the director has yet to miss. In fact, he has yet to not hit a home run.

His latest continues a trend of engaging, intelligent and thought-provoking films that are masterfully executed at nearly every level. The music of “Arrival” is on a biblical scale, as are its themes, awe-inspiring cinematography and emotional tugs. Amy Adams pulls off a complicated, multi-faceted turn, and Jeremy Renner excels in the most vulnerable performance of his career.

But it’s Villeneuve’s ability to balance world-shaking events with the most intimate of moments that makes his latest a reminder of what the best science fiction can still do, in a time when the genre very rarely presents situations with little real stakes or edge-of-your-seat drama.

From my review: To be clear, this isn’t particularly an alien invasion movie – our visitors never even set foot on Earth – and the audience shouldn’t expect the normal sort of blockbuster action associated with that moniker. These are thrills of a much more subdued kind.

 

2. Moonlight

There is a certain subdued, cinematic melody to “Moonlight” that helps it ring, like the barely audible hum of society that can be heard when sitting on a lonely beach at 2 in the morning.

Its performances are mighty, its storytelling prowess mightier. This is ostensibly one of the most straightforward narratives you’ll see in a 2016 offering.

But along the way of showing Chiron – a gay, black man growing up in LA – trying to find sympathy and real human connection at three different stages of his life, “Moonlight” places in the spotlight the ability for there to be magnitude in everyday occurrences like a phone call, an encounter, an unleashing of long-held frustration.

It’s a story of life at simultaneously its most simple and its most complex. It’s “Boyhood” without the gimmick, and it’s all the better for it.

 

1. Manchester By The Sea

It’s hard to believe Kenneth Lonergan’s latest – and most monumental – work is only a little over two hours. It’s not like it doesn’t feel like it; it races right along, telling a singular human story that takes on more and more weight with each scene.

But it’s just incredibly comprehensive in its world-building. We feel like we know Casey Affleck’s Lee and his nephew, Patrick. We can sympathize with their numerous clashes, their exchanges, and their personification of life at its most delicate and foreboding.

Lonergan’s is a superbly-written tale of grief and coping, a reminder that going through life means going through uncomfortable situations, ones we are ready for and other still that catch us off guard.

Its ending may feel a bit sudden until we realize that, like our own ongoing stories, there can never be a true ending to this one. It goes on beyond the credits, just as life does when we leave the theater doors.

From my review: Lonergan has crafted a film in which seemingly every scene is brimming with emotional depth. The moments of eruption are not only superbly directed, but immensely memorable for the way they interweave humanity with the kind of merciless humor that seems authentic of the Bostonian culture Affleck personifies.