We as a nation aren’t exactly in a good place at the moment;
people are disillusioned, angry, sad, and things don’t show signs of improving
any time soon. As humanity consistently finds new ways to divide itself, it
feels that we’re only growing more and more frightened: of ourselves, of each
other, and what the future might hold.
In troubled
times we often turn to art for an escape, but more critically, art can also
reflect and shape the way we think — it can challenge our preconceived notions
and make us view the world in a new light. Roger Ebert famously said, “The movies
are like machines that generate empathy. It lets you understand a little bit
more about different hopes, aspirations, dreams, and fears.” They force an
audience to relate to others even when there’s no obvious commonality; bonded
only by our shared humanity.
Open-hearted
and immensely moving, the luminous “Moonlight” allows its audience to become part of a young, gay black man’s journey to find
himself. Only the second feature from writer-director Barry Jenkins (following
“Medicine For Melancholy” all the way back in 2008), “Moonlight” is also one of
the best films of the year.
Based on the
play “In Moonlight Black Boys Look Blue” by Tarell Alvin McCraney, the story
incorporates elements taken from his personal experience as well as that of
Jenkins (both grew up in Miami’s Liberty City housing projects where
“Moonlight” is set). It follows the life of Chiron, picking up at three
critical points in his life: childhood, as a teenager, then finally as an
adult. In the first section, Chiron (Alex Hibbert) is known as “Little,” a
nickname given to him by the schoolmates who relentlessly bully him. Withdrawn
and shy, he’s a target because those around sense that he might be gay, even if
he doesn’t yet understand what that means.
Hiding out
from his bullies in an abandoned apartment building, Little
is discovered by a local drug dealer named Juan (Mahershala Ali). Treating the
boy with a disarming gentleness, he brings Little home
to his girlfriend Teresa (singer Janelle Monรกe, warm and affectionate in her
feature debut). They show him kindness when the young boy needs it most, and over
time Juan becomes a father figure to the young boy. The couple offer a respite
from Little’s mother, Paula (Naomie Harris), a nurse
who slowly drifts from casual drug use into the depths of addiction to crack
cocaine.
We next pick
up with Chiron (Ashton Sanders) as a teenager. His only friend is a loquacious
boy named Kevin (Jharrel Jerome), and he’s still isolated. As Paula has
descended further into addiction, it’s clear that his childhood has taken a
toll, and the wounds run deep.
In the last
chapter of the film, Chiron has grown up. He’s now going by the name “Black”
(Trevante Rhodes), and is now living in Atlanta and dealing drugs. He’s
hardened both mentally and physically, his muscles and armor built to protect
and shield himself from the world. He’s transformed, constructing a new
identity for himself based on what he’s come to believe being a man really
means. But an unexpected phone call sends Black journeying back home to Miami
to grapple with his past, his relationship with his mother, and just maybe, to
reconnect with Kevin (now played by the magnetic Andrรฉ Holland).
It’s hard to
talk about the story without sounding somewhat reductive. On its face, this
tale is a familiar one, but the details and the way Jenkins burrows inside his protagonist
sets it apart. Though it involves drugs, incarceration, and the ever-present
threat of violence, “Moonlight” is not a gritty tale of life on the streets;
the result is much more impressionistic. It’s reminiscent of “Boyhood” in
depicting how events in our life send us down certain paths, and how they shape
the person we ultimately become. Jenkins gives his film a heightened, almost
dreamlike aesthetic: cinematographer James Laxton cranks up the color and
saturation, while the evocative musical score by Nicholas Britell provides the
beat.
It’s a
testament to Jenkins direction and his ability with actors that the entire
ensemble is extraordinary. Most remarkable are the three actors portraying
Chiron: they don’t much look alike, but their performances create the throughline
for the entire film. Despite the physical changes, there’s a clear connection
as Sanders and then Rhodes each convey how remnants of Chiron’s younger self
are present in the older. Through downcast eyes and tiny gestures, they show us
the guarded heart at the center of a wounded young man.
Naomie
Harris is excellent in a role that could easily tip into clichรฉ. Both Jenkins
and McCraney’s mothers struggled with addiction, and her character is informed
by their real-life experiences. The same goes for Mahershala Ali, who finds the
truth at the heart of his character.
Both
intimate and expansive, “Moonlight” is exhilarating filmmaking. Immediate and
achingly emotional, it offers what, at their very best, movies can provide better
than any other art form: a deeply felt sense of empathy. We might not
necessarily share Chiron’s experiences, but we understand them. Above all, the
film is a beautiful and heartfelt plea for compassion, and that feels exactly
like what the world could use more of right now.
Check back on Friday for additional film coverage, including a review of the documentary
“Gimme Danger,” about influential rock band The Stooges.
This article appears in Nov 16-22, 2016.
