For the past few years, people have been rightfully
making a stink about the Oscars' lack of diversity, both in terms of
the people voting for the the nominees to the nominees themselves.
When #OscarsSoWhite became a trending topic on social media and Chris
Rock made it a running gag during his hosting stint earlier this
year, the Academy went into panic mode and has been scrambling to
make things right. This is a real shame not just because it's taken
so long for the Academy to even acknowledge this problem let alone do
anything about it, but because there's a new crop of talented black
actors (Lupita Nyong'o, Michael B. Jordan, Chiwetel Ejiofer, David
Oyelowo, Uzo Aduba etc.) and directors (Ryan Coogler, Steve McQueen,
Ava Duvernay etc.) that deserves accolades. One of the ways they've
been trying to make up for lost time is scouring for more
representative films. For a while it looked like Nate Parker's The
Birth of a Nation was going to be the new torch bearer, but it
collapsed under the weight of its own hype when it turned out to be a
self-indulgent by the numbers biopic. I guess what I'm
trying to say is that if we end up doing the #OscarsSoWhite dance
again come February, Moonlight will be the movie that the
black community will cry foul over.
On the surface, Moonlight is a pretty standard
coming of age story chronicling the life of Chiron, a young black kid
from the the projects of Miami, dealing with the hardships of life
and self-identity that come from growing up in such an environment.
But to describe it in such simple terms would be misguided if not
misleading. A lot of comparisons to Boyhood are inevitable
too, to simplify it as a “black Boyhood” would also be
misleading. It would also be accurate to describe Moonlight as
vivid of a portait of the gay African-American male as Beyonce's
“Lemonade” is for black women, but once again, that would be
misleading. Truth is that Moonlight is all of these things,
but at its essence, it is a universal story about isolation,
self-discovery, and the struggle to control our destiny.
Adapted from Alvin McCarney's short play, “In
Moonlight Black Boys Look Blue”, the movie is divided into three
chapters covering the different stages of Chiron's life. The first
act follows him as a young boy (Alex Hibbert) who is constantly
picked by the other kids, lives with a neglectful and abusive addict
of a mother (Naomie Harris), and adopts a kind-hearted local drug
dealer named Juan (Mahershala Ali) as a father figure who treats him
more like family than his actual family. The second act involves
Chiron's adolescence (Ashton Sanders) as he continues to deal with
intensified bullying and his mother's worsening addiction while
coming to terms with his own sexuality, except his surrogate father
is no longer there to guide him. The third act revolves around Chiron
as an adult (Trevante Rhodes). He has sice then started his life
anew and has returned to his hometown to reconsile with his childhood
trauma while trying to reconnect with an old friend. Each act stands
strongly as its own separate short film, but combined they compliment
each other like the verses of a poem, gracefully charting Chiron's
growth from a small, picked upon boy to a self-conscious teenager to
a man with his own scars.
What really holds this film together, aside from its strong but sparse script, is the
acting. I don't know how they were able to find three actors of
widely differing age to play the same character so seemlessly, but if
the Oscars ever decide to consider this movie for Best Actor, they're
going to have to make three statues. Alex Hibbert, Ashton Sanders and
Trevante Rhodes bring their own unique but complimentary flavor of
sadness, frustration and angst to Chiron, which makes it hard to
believe that they have never been in the same room while shooting.
Hell, they blend so fluidly into each other that you forget that they
don't even look alike. That's not to say they carry the film
themselves. Everyone pulls their weight here. Mahershala Ali's
portrayal of Juan breathes life into a character who, in the hands of
a lesser director, would've been diminished to a sterotype. Ali the
is one of those character actors you've probably seen kicking around
who hasn't really found the role to propel him into the big leagues
(you may recognize him from House of Cards or Luke Cage),
but I wouldn't be surprised if his agent's desk is stacked with
scripts by now. Same goes for Naomie Harris as Chiron's mother, the
only actor to appear in all three storylines, showing the horrifying
debilitation of her physical and mental state. Another thing that I
noticed is that aside from two or three extras, this is an entirely
black cast. They don't even draw attention to it or make a big deal
out of it, but that is kind of revolutionary in its own quiet way.
On the techincal side, there isn't a single shot that
feels out of place. Many shots make great use of close-ups, change in
focus and blocking, several of which mirror each other in the
different acts, giving the film a great sense of intimacy, whether it
be during its more tender and quiet moments or it bouts of brutal
harassment, paired with frenetic handheld camera work that gives the
film a dreamlike feel. This motion is emphasized by a brilliant use
of lighting and color, making especially great use of the glowing
blue of the moonlight, to the punishing white heat of the Miami
summers, to the sickly yellow of the florescent lit nights. All of
this complimented by a sparse but heavily effective soundtrack, from
the carefully selected classical pieces and soul tracks to Nicholas
Britell's piercing score.
Overall, I don't feel like this review is doing the
movie justice. There's simply nothing I can say about Moonlight
that can't be conveyed by witnessing it yourself. It is a masterfully
made, highly emotionally resonant coming of age tale that's sure to
make a lot of noise come Oscar season. I may not be nearly as in love
with it as the other critics are, but it still has a nice cozy spot
all but secured in my year-end list. Do not miss the chance to see
this.
9/10
No comments:
Post a Comment