Christine is about the quiet intensity of depression. Those moments when you’re sitting alone or in a crowd of people with one urge, and one urge only. The urge to cry and maybe, if you have the energy, scream. There are many moments where the masters of the film, who are directors Antonio Campos and Rebecca Hall, allow this feeling to bleed through the screen and into the audience. This is what makes Christine so horrifying and empathetic This feeling of disconnect and paranoia is extremely important to the film as a whole. It takes place in the wake of the Nixon impeachment, at a moment in time when there seemed no sense of security—when even the president could be caught lying. In this thick tone of the 70’s we are transported to the warmly colored, dirty, cramped offices of WXLT-TV Sarasota, where the reporters work hard, but it’s not enough. Where the cigarette smoke of Mike (a better than ever, Tracy Letts) seeps into the walls. Where the colors of a once new and high tech news station have faded, and the yellowing tar of tobacco and coffee has stained everything. There’s always a sense of disparity to the interpretation of the newsroom, but also an innocence in its bright colors and homey demeanor. This is simply not the place for someone to commit suicide. The people we’ve come to know here are desperate, but supportive, nobly trying to present the news and not end up in a place of more and more insecurity. And then there’s the odd woman out—that one poor soul, still living with her mother and desperately trying to overcome both the disparity of the workplace and the depression that permeates her worldview and lifestyle. This is where Rebecca Hall comes in. Hall, from whom I’ve seen good performances, has an incredible burden as she plays this part. Chubbuck is a selfish, self absorbed, antisocial character but her actions are more filtered through the monstrosity of her depression, rather than the actions of a functioning person. This forces Hall to play the role to such an extent as to blur the line of when the audience truly sees Chubbuck or Chubbuck filtered through the veneer of professionalism that she holds onto to function in the news station. Rebecca Hall’s work as Chubbuck is one of the best performances by an actress of the year, and I hope that she is given some consideration as the Academy Awards start to ramp up. The great thing about the performance and all these layers is that they never call too much attention to themselves. There’s a morose feeling hanging over the entire production for obvious reasons, but it’s understated, never bringing down the truly inspired moments of filmmaking or the levity that any of the co workers show each other. There’s a specific scene of all of the reporters at a party that reminded me of Boogie Nights, in the way incorporates a lovely longshot. That’s a lofty comparison and Christine’s scope is nowhere near that film’s, but what Christine lacks in scope it makes up in personality. The moroseness while understated serves to make everything in the movie, really, really, creepy. The studio might seem homey, but there’s just enough creepy to it hanging from the sidelines, dooming everyone who goes in. The perception of us being through the depressed eyes of Christine is terrifying, but most frighteningly, it’s realistic. It might be a gimmick to use aperture on a camera (blurring or clearing up the foreground and background of a picture) to show the haze of depression, but in Christine, director Campos almost allows it to sneak up on you mid-scene. The result is mystifying while also alarming. For as much credit as I’ve given Campos and Hall, the other players of the film are impressive as well. Michael C. Hall’s bravado as George Ryan is intoxicating, drawing the eye. There are plenty of twists that undermine that bravado in a perfect way, and C. Hall is equally. This is his best performance since he finished Dexter and he’s always had the creepy demeanor to fit right in with stories of gore and sadness. Speaking of gore, the moment, when it comes is as shocking as the filmmakers could make it. Literally, traumatizing in its effect, intentionally made to look slightly off to fit the hyper reality that the period piece requires. The sense of intensity and panic that comes with it as everyone realizes that it’s not just some sick joke is crushing. The film, through its silent intensity, through the empathy with a character, who just needs a hug, who just needs life to go alright, draws you in and gives you that intensity passes it to you . It’s not comfortable. It’s not pretty. It’s real. And in that reality Christine becomes on of the best films of the year. I give Christine a 10 out of 10.
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December 2017
CategoriesAuthorHello welcome to FilmAnalyst. My name is Stephen Tronicek, and I really like movies. This is a way to get my opinions out to people. Thank you for visiting. |