Moonlight
(2016)
(SPOILERS) How quickly
can you tell if a Best Picture Oscar winner is one for the ages? As often as
not, they’re consigned disposable, crowd-pleaser status (The King’s Speech, The Artist,
Argo) or branded with the opprobrious
idea that a plain underserving movie got garlanded (A Beautiful Mind, Chicago,
Crash). And, as often as not, there
are pressing concerns dictating the choices the Academy members made on any
given occasion, over and above what they simply thought was straight-up best
(not to mention, in recent years, the skew of the tier system ballot coming
into play). I have but one film left to see out of this year’s nine nominees,
and as such I think I can now comfortably conclude that, while it’s a well-made
movie, Moonlight definitely didn’t warrant
the top honour. Structurally as problematic as Lion, with the same issue of differing levels of accomplishment in
respect the performances of the lead character, it best illustrates Barry
Jenkins’ talent as a director. And, of course, he didn’t win.
On a tonal level, Moonlight probably bares closest
comparison to Manchester by the Sea,
in terms of both being closely-observed character dramas. But even then, it’s
much less beholden to calculated turns of plot, attempting as it does the
conceit of a naturally unfolding narrative. Jenkins has taken on the influences
of European cinema in their most permeating, expansive sense, such that he
allows scenes and characters to linger and breathe, rather than being driven by
the engine of where his story is heading. This is immensely beneficial in the first
two acts – the picture is divided into three periods in Chiron’s life, each played
by three different actors – but proves a stumbling block to the last, where the
same approach, now without an externalised conflict and so reliant on a
performer unable (or by the design of his character’s stoicism) to deliver,
leaves it curiously flat and listless.
Chiron’s internalisation
means that, particularly in the opening act, you’re unsure at first if Alex
Hibbert is playing his part well or is rather as inexpressive as the
character’s younger self. This doesn’t matter too much either way, as both
Mahershala Ali (as the surrogate father Juan who passes through Chiron’s life, atypically
of such narratives neither predator nor user but laden with a gnawing,
unvocalised guilt over his own choices and a desire to redress them in some
small way, a position that, for all Chiron’s rejection, surely subliminally
influences his own future career choice) and Naomie Harris (as his junkie mum
Paula, an impressively unsympathetic performance, and illustrative of the
quality of Best Supporting Actress nominees this year) more than compensate in
providing dramatic substance.
The latter’s most
compelling scenes come during the second act, also by far the most commanding
sequence, but Ali more than deserved his statuette for his sensitive portrayal of
the dealer who supplies Chiron’s mother and encourages the boy to accept who he
is (the biggest complement you can pay him is that you miss his presence
throughout the subsequent acts). If there’s a problem here, it’s that the more
emotional moments don’t quite play; Chiron confronting Juan and leaving when he
knows the truth carries the marks of a performance that couldn’t quite be made
in the edit.
On the other hand,
Ashton Sanders’ teenage Chiron is an outstanding performance, carrying the
impression of his younger self but with the intervening decade of bullying,
unstable mother and closeted sexuality having weighed ever heavier upon him.
The key to this passage is surely the universal recognisability of such rites
of passage, however extreme in Chiron’s case, and the conflict, isolation and burden
that accompany these formative years.
The strongest element
of the third act is Andre Holland’s hugely winning performance as the adult
Kevin, a character who has featured significantly in both previous episodes of
Chiron’s life and represents his first (and only) gay encounter. But Holland’s heavy
lifting is unable to rescue a meandering vignette in which Trevante Rhodes may
be schematically justified as a buff incarnation of the still recalcitrant main
character (all the better to hide your true nature beneath), but is unable to
lend dramatic weight to his existence.
This Chiron seems to
exist in a bubble of the filmmaker’s mind, and without evidence of how he lives,
his existence (aside from visiting his mother and teaching an under-dealer the
tricks of the trade, both of which feel rather schematic) there’s little to
latch onto. The picture wanes and loses its impetus, even given that it offers
the culmination of Chiron and Kevin’s arc, rediscovering each other and
expressing their feelings openly, and with it the subdued observation that has
been the cornerstone of Jenkins’ approach unravels.
At its best, Moonlight is an acutely insightful study
of a passage to adulthood (in its way, charting the same course as another
Oscar nominee, Boyhood, did a few
years ago), powerful, affecting and intensely well observed, accompanied by a
fine score from Nicholas Britell that has an almost Philip Glass quality (the
classical influences here are generally better integrated than in Manchester by the Sea). The picture’s
problem isn’t (as some criticisms have levelled) that it doesn’t have an
ending, it’s that its third act lacks sufficient measure, that as its lead
character takes control of his destiny, so his journey becomes less potent.
If Rhodes’ performance
had matched Holland’s, Moonlight might
have carried through, but after the dramatic crescendo of his teenage years,
Chiron is left in a place of minimum impact, dramatically and in terms of
audience investment. Doubtless Jenkins will continue writing-directing in
whatever he does next, but most impressive here are his choices in the latter
field, in particular sound design (silence is used to powerful effect in
crucial scenes) and his willingness to explore character through unforced observation
and mood rather than exposition or calculated dramatic incident.
Agree? Disagree? Mildly or vehemently? Let me know in the comments below.
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