Moonlight (2016)

[First review here.]

USA, 111 minutes

Director: Barry Jenkins

Writers: Barry Jenkins, Tarell Alvin McCraney

Photography: James Laxton

Music: Nicholas Britell

Editors: Joi McMillon, Nat Sanders

Cast: Mahershala Ali, Alex R. Hibbert, Janelle Monae, Naomie Harris, Ashton Sanders, Jharrel Jerome, Andre Holland, Trevante Rhodes

My first review of Moonlight, five years ago when it was more like new, actually hits all the main points about this very potent movie. I'm revisiting it now to cover my formal reviews of the 21st-century list of best pictures at They Shoot Pictures, Don't They?, where it has presently ascended to #22. I remember feeling annoyed by the surge of interest in it, which seemed to me merely a token of anti-MAGA sentiment in opposition to La La Land, which was white but not actually very Trumpy (for that see The Greatest Showman from the following year, a favorite of the former president which I haven't been able to look at yet).

I admit the Oscars mix-up that year did have a Trumpy twang, not least because the US election in 2016 was itself part of a series of improbable pop culture historical events in that period which made it feel like we had been ejected into some far more unpleasant dimensional timeline. It started with the Chicago Cubs winning the World Series after more than a century, coming from behind, then the abomination of the US election results, and then the plainly freaky and traumatic Super Bowl win by the New England Patriots over the Atlanta Falcons, and finally the Oscars goof. Everyone thought it was going to be La La Land, which was at the root of what happened. But it turned out to be Moonlight, thus somehow making a serious, sensitive Black film #2 even at being #1. But enough about freaks of history. Let's talk about this movie.

If Beale Street Could Talk (2018)

Director Barry Jenkins's first feature since Moonlight is based on a 1974 novel by James Baldwin. It's a period piece, set in '70s New York, but one of the saddest sides of it is that the story wouldn't have to be much different today. Fonny Hunt (Stephan James) is 22 and an aspiring sculptor and Tish Rivers (KiKi Layne) is his 19-year-old girlfriend. They have known each other all their lives. Just as Fonny and Tish are about to take a loft downtown—they've had to look long and hard to find a landlord who will rent to African Americans—Fonny gets caught in a trumped-up charge of rape. In the wrong place at the wrong time, plus there's a cop out to get him. The physical evidence (not to mention the resolute character evidence of Tish's family, who believe in him) makes him an unlikely suspect. But the racist corruption runs deep in this rigged system and the de facto burden of proof is on Fonny. He's going away to prison unless something extraordinary can happen and this is not a movie where extraordinary things like that happen. What is powerful and special here is how recognizable Fonny and Tish are as a young couple in love setting out to make their way. They are young and naïve enough to see a bright future, though it is quickly derailed. Jenkins's ease with setting up and executing tender scenes is as remarkable as ever. And If Beale Street Could Talk touches on many different aspects of African American life. When Tish announces she is pregnant, for example, Fonny's mother, a devout blood-of-Jesus Christian, reacts very badly, in an intense scene that unfolds in a handful of unexpected directions—great ensemble work in a tight physical space. In another scene, a friend Fonny hasn't seen in some time, Daniel (Brian Tyree Henry), tells Fonny over beers that he recently got out of jail, and the way he talks about the experience is haunting. Of course there are confrontations with racist cops too, who of course conform to stereotypes that are not hard to believe—we know much better now than in 1974 how these things go. Jenkins often plays to the extremes for effect—the love of Fonny and Tish can be preposterously sweet and the relentless specter of racism so bitterly galling. Nicholas Britell's score often reminded me of Chinatown—moody bruised Ellington-like swells inevitably signaling political corruption somehow. These extremes are part of what makes If Beale Street Could Talk work so well. But mostly it's the affecting way the characters are shown standing up to love even in the greatest distress. It's a good one.

Wonder Woman (2017)

Huzzah, the summer blockbuster season is upon us. Wonder Woman was already getting good word of mouth the week it was released so I went. Partly the excitement is a matter of the woman-friendly nature of the project: starring a woman (Gal Gadot), directed by a woman (Patty Jenkins), about a woman superhero raised by a tribe of women. It's a point of honor to take daughters, some screenings are for women only, and so on. Get into the heart of the movie, taken for what it is, and it's not bad. In fact, as a flailing DC effort in the Zach Snyder era of the superhero epoch, you could even say it's remarkably good. I liked the character of Diana, a goddess (or at least half-goddess, technically speaking). She's a beguiling mix of the naïve, the uprightly moral, and the beautiful—Gal Gadot is a glowing screen presence happily up to carrying the whole thing. This one is set in World War I times, which is a bit of a head scratcher. I presume things like that will be explained with the inevitable sequels (which inevitably will have to refer to her as "Wonder Woman," though they get away with not doing so here, a nice point). The Amazons back on the mysterious island of Themiscyra where Diana was raised are virulently antiwar, and World War I is famous for being the worst war ever, so there's that. One of the picture's highlights is an amazing race across No Man's Land. Chris Pine is handsome Steve Trevor, with a band of brigands in tow (Said Taghmaoui, Ewen Bremner, Eugene Brave Rock). Diana doesn't take long to establish herself as the resident badass among them, and these macho dogs all seem to accept it. Gender-fraught tensions percolate along more explicitly in the action. Because of her upbringing, Diana associates men with violence and war and only sides with the British because she happens to like Steve. It could have been a German as well. After all, this was the war with no good guys. At two and a half hours, there's no stinting of the big battle scenes and other special effects. There's a decent balance of motivations and fighting, though the last third turns hard toward the latter. That's why we're here, right?

Moonlight (2016)

Moonlight is an ambitious coming-of-age picture, telling the story of an African-American kid growing up in Miami 20 years ago. He lives with gangbangers in his neighborhood and a mother who is a practicing crack addict. No father. He's gay too, which is something lots of people figure out before he does, including his mother. Very few are nice about it, including his mother, but in the end this movie is more about those very few. He's not just gay, but also sensitive, dreamy, and introverted. It's a tough life. Moonlight is formally ambitious as well, divided into three sections, with all different people playing the leads. The first sequence is from his childhood. He is constantly picked on in school and known as "Little" (which he is). The second section shows him as a high school adolescent, not as little but still picked on and now insisting on his actual name, "Chiron." In the third section he's a full-grown adult, buffed up considerably, living in Atlanta as a drug dealer. Now he calls himself "Black," for a nickname given him by a friend and lover in high school, Kevin. As the movie evolves, it is more and more about their relationship. The characters are hard and so are their lives. The high school scenes were most stressful because it's hard to look at what happens to him. It's interesting to discover the "woke" people who pass through Chiron's sphere. They're there. Kevin, his childhood friend, turns out to be one of them. When Chiron is still Little, a drug dealer reaches out to him, Juan (Mahershala Ali). Juan and his girlfriend Teresa (Janelle Monae) don't care if Little is gay. They tell him it's way too early to think about that, and he'll know when the time comes. Juan is decent in spite of his occupation, and bravely carries an obvious load of pain. His scenes are some of the best, but there are great scenes all the way. Moonlight might be easily reduced to stereotypes in summary, and might even sound gimmicky, but it has a sure and confident way of moving the story, which is always interesting, and it's packed with great performances. All six of the main leads—Alex R. Hibbert as Little, Ashton Sanders as Chiron, Trevante Rhodes as Black, and Jaden Piner, Jharrel Jerome, and Andre Holland as the corresponding Kevins—are no less than very good, and often phenomenal (especially Sanders, Rhodes, and Holland). It also looks beautiful. Plus it's a fine addition to other "moon" movies such as Bitter Moon, Paper Moon, Shoot the Moon, Moonrise, Racing With the Moon, Under the Cherry Moon, A Trip to the Moon, Duncan Jones's Moon, and others.