The phrase “A New American Classic” is thrown around a whole lot in the effort to describe the almost unreachable state that the 70’s left for filmmaking. That’s the moment in time when the “American Classic” was born. The time after the Golden Age when the glamour of the studio system only butted heads with what could be put on screen. The time when Americans needed new, revolutionaries to come in and make them films that had to do with the actual world that they lived in, or allowed them to escape that world. Films like Taxi Driver, Star Wars, The French Connection all needed to happen, and that’s what might just constitute a classic. Is this film necessary? Does it give us something that is desperately needed even if that something is just exciting action? Jackie is a necessary work. Jackie is a work of unprecedented mastery. The reason has to do with grief and the way that it affects people. What can be done about it, and what can allow us to truly understand it? Jackie is about the following days after the death of JFK and an interview that went on between Jackie and reporter, Theodore H. White, following the lavish funeral that she held for a president that many didn’t think deserved such an affair. The first stage is a sense of shock, where the initial event hasn’t sunk in. Natalie Portman, playing Jackie Kennedy in a role that should win her a best actress Oscar (Rebecca Hall should too), runs around hazy and weeping attempting to make sense of the blood on her dress and face. It’s captivating and powerful stuff, done masterfully by director Pablo Larraín. Jackie is at first a film of close-ups, keeping tight and allowing the claustrophobic sense of the ever burdening pressure that comes to all dealing with the assassination of a president to inch into our minds. The Secret Service, Lyndon B. Johnson, everyone stands with the face of confusion, of guilt, of pain. At the center is Jackie Kennedy, who can’t begin to comprehend what just happened. Neither can we as an audience. As the film lays its base it’s incredibly frustrating, but intentionally so. It pushes the feeling of the characters into the audience through tight close-ups that force all actors on deck into somewhat of an endurance test of acting. The spell that the film casts is calculated, and Larraín never lets you out of his hands. Then the film backs out a bit, giving us almost a second stage, where the crushing sense of all of it comes crashing down. The moment when Jackie must tell the children what happened, and accept that her connection to the history of the White House seems almost meaningless The frame widens as more well recreated characters such as Peter Sarsgaard as Bobby Kennedy start to occupy the film, and the coldness of the big empty house becomes apparent. A great thing about Jackie’s second act is that it understands that at moments of great shock and great grief one can find herself thinking about the simplest of things. What that thing is you couldn’t ever get me to spoil, but it’s shockingly realistic. The facets of the performance in here are just marvelous as the grief slowly turns into guilt. The final so-called stage has to do with the acceptance of this, mainly through the efforts of cinematography. The camera finds itself occupying almost a duet of the first two acts distinct camerawork as cinematographer Stéphanie Fontaine channels Emmanuel Lubezki’s work for Terrence Malick. The close-ups are still claustrophobic and cutting and the wider shots still accentuate the coldness, but as the importance of the administration, the legacy, the things that comfort Jackie come to the surface the styles start to excitingly flow together. The film in all it’s glory solidifies and one finds themselves transported through the nonlinear, dreamy, and poetic imagery into the world of Jackie Kennedy as the film punctuates it’s ending with the glorious feeling of euphoria as hope and understanding once again punctuate the Former First Lady’s life. Now, none of this would work if the screenwriting (Noah Oppenheim of….Allegiant and The Maze Runner...What the hell?) and Larraín’s direction was not on point. The actors aren’t the only one on an endurance test. The way the story unfolds is almost the full reason why it’s so engaging and lusciously absorbing and Oppenheim and Larraín almost effortlessly push everything together. For the third time in this review I’m going to call Portman something of a astonishing presence. She’s surrounded by great actors like John Hurt, Peter Sarsgaard, Caspar Phillipson, John Carroll Lynch, Billy Crudup, and Greta Gerwig, all of them collectively bringing to life the exciting moroseness of the events. There’s not really describing the feeling that each actor and each shot allows the audience to feel. By the end, everything is playing together in a wonderful orchestra of filmmaking, of sound design, score, acting and screenwriting. Jackie isn’t just one of the best movies of the year. That’s an insult. This one of the best movies….ever. It’s extremely important on one hand, but it’s also just a damn great, poetically assembled, no punches pulled, GREAT on the level of any important movie of the 70’s piece of filmmaking. Jackie so far should win best picture and I can’t wait to see how it goes over in the awards race. I give Jackie 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. |