The Beautiful, Devastating Leftovers

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The Walking Dead sucks so much. It’s not that it’s a bad zombie show, it’s that it completely misses the point of what it should be. The idea to me of every apocalypse type show isn’t the big event that made it all happen, but how this event affects the people on a personal level and how it messes up every single relationship and sense of normalcy. Sure, zombies are fun and the threat of them is scary, but what really matters is the universal idea of being without your sister, your father, your dog, whatever, who cares, what caused it, forget zombies, how are you dealing with this very real issue of this massive change to every facet of your life?

Enter the goddamn “Leftovers,” the most depressing show ever that I thought, “well, goddamn, I never thought a TV show would entirely get ME, and it kind of sucks when said show is one of the most depressing of all time and what that says about me, but here we are.” See, The Leftovers is a show about 2% of the population disappearing and instead of really focusing on exactly WHY that happened, it’s more concerned with HOLY SHIT, how am I supposed to deal with so-and-so randomly being eliminated from my life. It’s a show that really doesn’t care beyond some brief broad strokes how they got to this point and what could be the mysterious thing that caused everything to happen, but instead the here and now of these people dealing with this very real fallout.

I have upper echelon shows that I always refer to as my favourites, with the idea that nothing currently could touch them and certainly not right away. The Sopranos, The Wire, The Shield, Mad Men and The Simpsons are my big five perfect shows and I thought it would take awhile for something to sit in that company, but what The Leftovers has accomplished so audaciously building in quality season over season and with the absolute masterclass of a finale, it has shot right up there. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been moved and effected by a show like this. Not that there hasn’t been a good bunch of shows since then that I enjoyed, but it weirdly makes me feel alive that there is new art and television still able to be created that makes me feel so much (and it especially a show like this that puts FEEL in all caps) and evokes such emotion out of me like this one.

They only had three seasons and 28 episodes in total, but it was such assured and focused appointment TV that everything was struck with meaning and no note was left wasted. This is a show that literally got better season to season, and sure there’s only three seasons, but I’m remised to think of a show off the top of my head that did it quit like this. Its first season was more concerned traditionally with what you’d think about the show, where it was trying to find out more of the mysteries of what was behind this all, season 2 was delving deeper into these people and their progression beyond what happened and season 3 was about resolution and finding a way to move past things if you can and how it shaped your future life beyond just being defined by this event.

I could go on and on and on, but mainly I wanted to write this because of how perfect the finale was. The Leftovers was in a spot where it could’ve went ANYWHERE for the finale, it could’ve went all supernatural and really honed in on what caused everything, it could’ve just went weirdo insane, but what it ended up doing so beautifully was telling a small love story that played like a foreign film or something. Because at the heart, crux and end of it all, The Leftovers is a love story about Kevin and Norah. The whole hour plus episode was a literal masterclass of acting, emoting and reacting from Carrie Coon and Justin Theroux. I can’t even quantify how good both of them are and I’m going to be pulling my hair out when they don’t get any awards love. What made the finale so good on top of all that is you got the whole base love story/reconciliation angle that shaded in one side of things, and then you got Norah giving the mystery-interested people their answer of her going to the other side where the people on this world disappeared to and delivering the simple yet perfect yet devastating realization that they had their own “Leftovers” event but instead of 2% of their population disappearing they had 98% of theirs disappear to the other side. Norah realized she had no place in that world and came back to her original world. Now watching Carrie Coon deliver her monologue with such conviction it seems so true, and I believe her. But, there are others who believe she made up the whole thing to Kevin and that she did absolutely none of that. I don’t know if there’s an answer and I think it was precisely meant that way for you to interpret the meaning how you will. That’s where the finale works on another level, leaving that dangling thread for people to argue with years later, but nothing too extreme or over the top that it leaves people dissatisfied or missing a piece, just a lynchpin in how two different types of people approach one idea, can there be two truths?

This is basically 1,000 or so words of gushing, but damn am I so happy to do it when it feels like forever since I’ve felt this strongly for a show. I guess in a weird sort of way it’s kind of ironic that this soul-crushingly depressing show has reinvigorated some spirit inside of me, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. The Leftovers was a raw nerve of a show and one that wasn’t afraid to get to the rotten core of everyone and reveal said rottenness, but maybe also sparring a few seeds for some future revitalization. It never sacrificed the “real” just because maybe that would make for a more palatable TV show, it bared everything out front and dared you to stick around, because things might suck a lot in the moment, but there’s always that glimmer in the future, another person or an idea that keeps you moving and keeps you alive.

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WCW Monday Nitro/PPVS: 1997

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Do you want to know why WCW was a stupid company? I mean, I could list literally 1,000 reasons and they’d all be applicable, you want to know what is really dumb. Imagine for a second that you’re a paper company whose been competing with a rival paper company for supremacy of the ultra competitive paper industry, stick with me here. This rival company has this goddamn amazing card-stock paper, everyone loves it and they’re buying it up like wildfire. Until one day this piece of card-stock paper suddenly develops human feelings (okay, I didn’t totally think out this metaphor before typing it all out), it becomes disgruntled at the company and believes its being overshadowed by a similar card-stock paper, except this card-stock paper has been brown-nosing the higher ups all this time. So our original card-stock paper gets out of his contract at the paper company, and lest we mention the screwjob of epic proportions that makes the paper that much more filled with hatred toward this damn, awful paper company. The rival paper company signs this card-stock paper, amazed that they were actually able to get their hands on this high quality product that they never actually imagined could be theres. They literally got the other company’s best product in the midst of an intense battle for supremacy over the paper landscape, what could stope them now. ONLY THE STUPIDITY ITSELF OF THIS RIVAL COMPANY. Okay, let’s drop this awful metaphor, how did WCW really get a red hot, and I mean RED HOT Bret Hart and literally do nothing with him. So much happened in 1997 for WCW, so much, but literally all I think about is them having Bret goddang Hart on the payroll and let him just toil around and do absolutely nothing. Not only is this guy a money draw, but, uh, an actual great wrestler who, uh, can put on amazing matches which is what your company is kind of supposed to do. I have zero clue how to run a company, but it just seems like the most common of sense to actually do something with the biggest name in the industry when you get him. Not just have him cut lame promos and at your biggest event of the year just have him be a special referee of a doomed match.

Okay, breathe, let’s talk about something else than the Bret Hart debacle. How about the Hulk Hogan/Sting debacle. It actually amazed me that they legit stretched this feud for an ENTIRE year before the payoff match (which of course was godawful). It was actually impressive that in one sense you were like “let’s get to this damn match already,” but I was also impressed that they were able to prolong this thing for so long.

Honestly, this Bret Hart stuff is bothering me too much and I just want to end talking about this year, but let’s end on some random thoughts.

I know a lot of people hate Diamond Dallas Page, but I’ve always been a fan, even, yes, that he’s not the best worker, but his push seemed such a natural thing to do and he was great in that main event role when he had it.

The Dennis Rodman stuff was amazing because never have I seen someone so obviously just picking up a cheque for doing the bare minimum. Like, his face the whole time was always “can you believe they’re actually paying me THIS much for this.” I feel like I actually remember him delivering one good clothesline, though, or something, so that was good. Oh my god, some of the episodes later in the year were of the 3 hour variety and I legit don’t know if I can go forward into 1998 when all the episodes become 3 hours. Without the commercials it’s like 2 hours+ and it’s such a slog to get through it all, so who knows if I’ll actually even get to it. I also want to watch Thunder even though I know that’s the worst idea ever, but I’m curious about its awfulness that I know I’ll regret if I actually decide to watch. Basically what I’m saying is that my 1998 review will either come out in 5 years, or never. And finally, Steve McMichael sucks so bad, my god.

‘Silence’: Review

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Martin Scorsese is so good and operates at such a high level after 50 years of directing (I had to look this up to be sure, that’s two of my lifetimes making stunning films) that I feel everybody, including myself, is kind of brushing Silence to the side like “eh, another amazing Scorsese film, what else is new.” Any other lesser director, or one not as well-known directs this film and there’s gonna be storming the streets over how good this thing is, but with Scorsese it just seems like another day at the office. I’ve been waiting years for Scorsese to get his passion project finished and now that it’s here and as good as it is it’s kind of demoralizing to see it fall by the wayside during end of the year awards talk, not that that’s the be-all and end-all of whether a movie is good or not, but still.

This is an uncomfortable film to watch and Scorsese doesn’t reward you at the end for sitting through this punishment, it’s not Hollywood fanfare where we all come out happy in the end and necessarily excited for life. It’s about two priests who travel into anti-Catholicism Japan in the 17th century in search of their mentor who has been missing for years. Both men get deeper and deeper into this religious war zone and suffer hardship after hardship affecting both their religious and physical demeanour.

While Liam Neeson and Adam Driver share their name on the poster with Andrew Garfield, it’s largely a showcase for Garfield who he pulls it off with aplomb. I’ve always liked Garfield fine enough, he’s never really wowed me or did anything horrible, just been doing well existing and putting in fine work. But, he certainly proved that if you give him a meaty part and something for him to sink his teeth in, like this film, he’ll go full bore and deliver something special. A lot of the film works in quiet moments and also because of the Japanese to English language barrier a lot of the emotions and reactions are played off the actor’s faces. Garfield is especially wonderful in how he’s able to act with his face and emote all this pain and feeling that wears him down through the hours of the audience watching the film and the years inside the film.

Scorsese never makes easy films, but he also never makes films that are so over-complicated and convoluted that they treat the audience like an idiot because of wanting to seem “smart” and educated. He’s so assured in his direction that a psuedo-comedy like The Wolf Of Wall Street and a deeply religious exploration like Silence can be told by the same equal measured by Scorsese’s respect for the medium and how expertly each part of it informs the whole, no matter the subject matter. Silence is a film that is powerful in the quiet moments and understated in the grandiose, revelatory moments. It’s a film that is interested in showing how things are and how they were, no matter the pain that it delivered and may continue to for some. Scorsese documents it and wraps it all up in an engaging filmic package that he clicks on as easy as autopilot, while still showing how much he cares.

A Rumination On The Genius Of David Foster Wallace

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Like many people, I’m sure, I was part way through Infinite Jest when I realized that David Foster Wallace is a genius. The entire scope of the book, its almost encyclopedic nature (not to mention the length, because I’d be remised) in how it feels so all encompassing of this world, no, universe that he created, to these painful characters who are so human and raw. I knew he was a literary genius as soon as I read that book, then later on I got further through his bibliography and read Everything And More (his book literarily about the history of infinity largely told through mathematic equations) and Fate, Time, And Language (his college thesis on free will and his critique on philosopher Richard Taylor) and realized I had to throw the “literary” caveat away and realize he was just a flat out genius.

It didn’t start out that revolutionary, though, as I was pretty averagely whelmed by his first novel The Broom Of The System. I really enjoyed it for the first half when it was building up its world and ideas, but then everything fell off a cliff in the back half and I found it a slog to get through. Wallace just meandered in these character’s thoughts and didn’t seem too intent on actually doing much besides the very base introductions into the main character Lenore’s mental crises. I found it funny that Wallace himself famously hates looking back on this novel as he thinks its pretty juvenile and amateur in a writing sense. Not that I’m taking any extra credit in not really liking it, quite the opposite, in fact wish I could write something this good at my age, let alone his age at the time.

Girl With Curious Hair just seemed like a fine enough short story collection where I particularly liked the ones on Jeopardy!, Lyndon Johnson and Late Night With David Letterman, but the rest fell pretty flat and often were a slog to get through. His collaboration book Signifying Rappers: Rap And Race In The Urban Present with his friend Mark Costello read like it was just written yesterday with its pin-point thoughts on everything inside of hip-hop from race to piracy to communication to its perception and on and on. Wallace and Costello both expertly broke down the prejudices laid against the music and the untruths about it and how hip-hop encapsulates a wide breadth of modern culture, even back in the early 90s, that some might not even be fully aware of. And as good as it was, I’m preconditioning to liking hip-hop anything because I love the genre so much, but I still felt like maybe I just didn’t “get” Wallace and was waiting to see if anything of his really clicked with me, or if I was going to be part of the other group who just never understood his hype.

And, yes, now we cue Infinite Jest. Everybody cries about the length of the book, and yes it’s long as hell with its footnotes section being longer than your average book, but it never really feels that long. This is a 1,000 plus page book that never feels like it drags, and that’s something when it’s largely just spouting philosophical thought or rambling on about the effects of whatever random drug. The book is obviously dense and has layers upon layers, but it’s not hard to get through per se, but it just takes time. A lot of the plot doesn’t even matter, because not all that much really happens, it’s just really following these various storylines that really never make any grand aspirations to go anywhere, and thus you reading this is less of following what happens, but living in this absurdist world that Wallace has created. “Absurd” is the word I always keep coming back to with this book, especially in something I wasn’t really expecting, even though I should have, was how hilarious this book is. Wallace knows how to write true characters, and this book has straight-up jokes, but also mines humour from just basic humanistic things that nobody ever speaks aloud, but pretty much everybody does. I never really thought I’d like this this much, but I was kind of left in awe of this world that Wallace created where I was constantly admiring his scope in world building, characters and fine details that made this thing a piece of art from simple word to word connections on each page.

Following that he delivered A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Anymore which is basically his masterpiece essay collection which I loved it all the way around. The highlights are his essay on television which is very insightful and surprisingly relevant from when he wrote it over twenty years ago, the tennis essay on Michael Joyce which lets Wallace dig around in his passion and exposes some of the oddities of the tennis world, and his famous essay documenting his stay on a cruise ship which is full of all his signature observations on human behaviour.

As I mentioned above, Everything And More and Fate, Time And Language took Wallace to another echelon with me, even though I probably understood about 10% combined of what he was saying in both of these works. Seeing that Everything And More was subtitled “A Compact History of Infinity” I of course thought it was a tongue-in-cheek joke from Wallace, just an ironic outlandish name to title a selection of essays that obviously wouldn’t measure up to the concept of infinity. Except, no, David Foster Wallace wrote a legit history of infinity and quite literally writes what is basically a math textbook, with some of that Wallace flair.

Fate, Time And Language is like a sibling to Everything And More in that it continues to prove that David Foster Wallace is a genius beyond the bounds of fiction literature, into mathematics and philosophy. I mean, I couldn’t entirely connect with this book/essay/thesis because I really don’t care that much about philosophy (and definitely not to the astronomical levels that Wallace did), so these questions posed, fighting back on theories and breaking down of these phrases into their literal and metaphysical parts by Wallace just seem pointless to me. It’s like you knew David Foster Wallace was some kind of literary savant on some high level, but then he busts these two things seemingly out of nowhere and you think this guys gotta be on some kind of genius level to have all this scholarly strength rattling up in his brain. It’s kinda crazy how he can switch from writing about sociology to tennis to politics to complex math problems and make them all digestible and brilliant in their own way.

His various other collections throughout the years in Brief Interviews With Hideous Men, Oblivion, Consider The Lobster and Both Flesh And Not all exceed in their own ways giving Wallace equal balance to explore his more serious efforts sandwiched in between something funny or even just fawning over Roger Federer. Up, Simba! Up, Simba! was a fascinating read on John McCain’s 2000 presidential campaign, mainly because I at my young age really only started knowing about McCain from his 2008 bid, so it was fascinating hearing about him in this context because all the insights about his personality don’t really seem that interesting or new due to the fact that I’m reading this 16 years after it was written and I was already aware of this portrait of him (ie. the whole Vietnam POW stuff, and how he seemingly flys in the face of what a buttoned up politician should act like). This Is Water, his 2005 commencement speech at Kenyon College, proved that, hell, Wallace might as well tackle another medium for his words and make it masterful.

Wallace’s last piece of work before his death, The Pale King, is terrific in its own unfinished right. It’s great all the way around and has sparkles and glints of a masterpiece buried beneath it. Of course we’re always gonna wonder what this novel would’ve looked like if Wallace got it to how he wanted it before he died, but I bet it isn’t too far away from what we got to read and all-and-all it’s a pretty great reconstruction of chapters in varying levels of madness. Dude literally made a book about the IRS interesting, that should be grounds for a masterpiece itself.

It’s funny, coming into reading David Foster Wallace I kind of didn’t want to like him. I have this semi-hipster mentality where I hate liking things that the mass media fawns over and loves. Infinite Jest would not stop popping up wherever I looked like some goddamn gopher, so I said “okay, I’ll finally read this thing” and because I’m an insane maniac I can’t just read a book part way through someone’s bibliography, so I read all his works from the beginning and as gross as it sounds, I’m better for it. Knowing very little about David Foster Wallace I just assumed he was kind of a shut-in literary snob who was this lame, pain-filled writer who had one legendary book and killed himself. Reading all of his works, including the essential Although Of Course You End Up Becoming Yourself (and the great film version, The End Of The Tour, with fantastic performances from both Jason Segel as Wallace and Jesse Eisenberg as Lipsky)road trip recollection from David Lipsky that charts Lipsky’s time with Wallace over part of the Infinite Jest book tour, I found out about the beautiful person Wallace was amongst all that pain bubbling under.

David Foster Wallace was SO human. That’s what I liked about him, I mean sure I believe he’s actually operating on some genius level I don’t understand, but he also just fucking loves Alanis Morissette a lot and wrote an essay on why Terminator 2: Judgment Day sucks so much and writes about tennis like Michelangelo is sculpting it. He’s simultaneously this smart guy in mathematics, philosophy and higher-thinking and should probably be a snob about it, but he’s just too human and understands low brow and high brow equally enough that those two definitions wouldn’t seem like a division to him. In other words, the history of infinity to him is of the exact same importance to why Terminator 2 sucks so much. As I read his books I would often become very sad that his genius wouldn’t continue to create great works, but happy that the ones he did create exist and that they represent himself so accurately in all the happiness, pain, and wonder that made up David Foster Wallace.

‘La La Land’: Review

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La La Land works well enough because it operates within every preconceived notion and cliche of what you would be perceive this movie to be. It’s quirky, sends up Hollywood pictures of yesteryear and has a couple who meet then dislike each then like each other then date then have the best time of their lives then something UNEXPECTEDLY splits them apart then they become a “better” person from that relationship.

Now none of this is particularly bad per se, and La La Land has enough to distract from its formulaic misgivings, but still in doing so the film seems unoriginal in spite of what it’s trying to project on the screen. It so badly wants to rise from the ashes of all these old time Hollywood movies and become something different and masterful, but it’s still tied down by its trite machinations. I mean, sure, it’s not like the two main characters end up together happily ever after or anything like that, it’s not that formulaic, but it does the next best thing by having its cake and eating it too by saying, “Hey, we’re not gonna put them together, but see they’re better off for that and, awww, heck, fine, we’ll show you them together in some alternative world dream sequence.” Because the film is never content on straying TOO far from that happy Hollywood medium, less it get pulled out of its preordained rut. It’s a fine enough device, giving you the sad and happy by showing you both sides of how following your dreams or staying with a lover can work out either way and letting you choose what applies, but it still rings too cheap and easy.

Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone are both exceptional in there roles, although I’m quite less enamoured with Stone even when while I still see the good stuff she’s putting out there. The writing and performances do a pretty good job in letting these characters be fun and eccentric without it veering too far into camp and seeming like these are just movie characters spouting these writer-speak words that nobody in real-life would ever say. In other words this movie wasn’t written by Diablo Cody. On the other hand, I couldn’t help but thinking that Gosling and Stone’s characters suffer from Gilmore Girls syndrome, where it’s all fun and charming to see them crack wise at each other and make funny little quips and have all these cutesy sayings, but imagine actually running into these people in real life and you won’t be able to find a razor blade fast enough to get away from these unbearable people.

I enjoyed all the musical aspects, ie breaking into song, but I honestly couldn’t help but thinking that the film didn’t really need any of it and at the end of things it just became more gimmicky than anything. There’s not a single song that stands out (good or bad) and it’s not like the film is worse off for any of it, or that it provides a disruption, it just seems like the musical aspect was force-fed into this movie that didn’t really need that to operate at a high level.

Believe it or not after the first four paragraphs that I wrote, but I actually liked this film. While I hated that it had to rely on so many cliches to get where it was going, it operates so well inside these cliches that it puts itself head and shoulders above what most do with them. Damien Chazelle is a good director and writer who crafts this film on such a grandiose stage thanks to his assured eye and vision that it’s hard to believe it’s only his third film. Everyone behind and in front of the camera delivers this whole package with such passion that it’s hard not to be moved by its emotion and the final grace notes from each character. La La Land is a film that loves old Hollywood musicals a bit too much, it has its own heart, but it just can’t resist the bright lights.

‘Rogue One: A Star Wars Story’: Review

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*Nobody reads these things, but mad spoilers ensue*

Rogue One works because it knows when to be a Star Wars movie and when not to be a Star Wars movie. The film is billed as a standalone movie in the franchise, and technically it is seeing as the cast is 90% new characters. It’s really Episode 3.5, as it provides a connective link between the two sets of trilogies and shows how the Death Star came to be.

The thing I hate more than anything else in movies deep into a franchise, spin-offs or whatever of the like is the cute little winks and nods to popular characters of the past just for the simple sake of getting a quick rise out of the audience just for mentioning them. This film has them, of course, but it’s done in such a small scale and organic way that it never feels like the film is stepping aside from its story to focus in on these elements. It bridges the gap between the two trilogies so it makes sense to shade in element of Darth Vader’s rise and fill out the story of how the Death Star came to be and what exactly lead to the moments at the beginning of A New Hope, the place we all originally were thrust into this world. Every other nod is treated as more of an easter egg where if you’re just watching the movie on face value (and/or you’re just a casual fan) you might not get it, but nothing will seem wildly out of place, but for more heedy viewers all the little references are there.

This is all in contrast to The Force Awakens where they pretty much just copied A New Hope and had a heavy presence of characters from the original trilogy. I mean, sure they kind of had a different mission to accomplish with The Force Awakens compared with Rogue One, where the former movie had to re-instill and reboot this franchise in people’s mind by playing to the broadest sensibilities possible to a. ensure the movie and subsequent franchise would be a success and b. to have a connective vessel point for these new characters. Whereas Rogue One is in the wake of the success of that movie and can follow a more niche guide because they knew it was going to be a one-and-done film rather than a direct sequels that had to follow in the story wake of The Force Awakens.

But, mostly Rogue One works because it makes sense and its chief example of this is that every damn body dies in this thing. It makes sense that since we’ve never heard of any of these people in the original trilogy that probably a lot of them wouldn’t be around at the conclusion of it. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t expecting it at first, of course some people were going to die, but then the body count started rising and it all clued in for me and I hoped they would go that sensible route, because it made sense, and they did. I’m still amazed that Disney green lit this movie where literally the whole main cast dies, good and bad. Sure, they had in their back pocket the up note of an end scene where Princess Leia gets the Death Star plans and we see her in all her CGI glory, kicking directly off into A New Hope. But still, damn, I keep scrolling through the main cast on IMDB and I’m just like, “Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead.”

Honestly, I was just as excited about getting a new Gareth Edwards film than I was another Star Wars movie. I absolutely loved his first film Monsters which is almost a masterpiece for me. I was less enamoured with Godzilla, as I thought it was just fine and didn’t really do anything new. But, what I knew with both of those movies is that he obviously has a flare for staging epic battle scenes, but his sensibilities also extends into a passion for smaller human elements. I felt that Rogue One was actually pretty skimpy on the dramatic emotional beats, outside of the Galen Erso and Jyn Erso father/daughter stuff, but it served the film well in that there wasn’t an overabundance on any of that (not that it was bad or anything, it just picked and choosed well what it wanted to accomplish), as the film clearly wanted to focus on the larger battle aspects. And I thanked the high heavens that they didn’t do anything with a Jyn Erso/Cassian Ando romantic relationship because few things are worse than shoehorning a romantic relationship into a movie just because that’s what 95% of them do.

I gotta say I was pretty lukewarm on the movie for about the first 80%, but they really stuck the landing on the last section of the film and were seemingly allowed to do what they wanted and pulled everything off. Like I said earlier, I think this film was allowed to succeed in that it was operating inside of this area between the two trilogies where they knew this would be a one-and-done movie and could go all out and tell a story that didn’t need to be extended or have the end set up sequels (because they’re already made!) or have characters do unnecessary things because they needed to bank on them for the future. I don’t know fully where this stands for me in regard to the whole series, although I do find people thinking this is the best one pretty ludicrous, but I do know if they keep giving these films to auteur action/genre directors like Gareth Edwards and Rian Johnson then we’ll be in more than good hands.

‘Moonlight’: Review

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Moonlight is a film about many things. It’s about childhood, growing up, sexuality (repressed and expressive), race, love and a myriad of other constant filmic themes, but Moonlight takes them all into its melting plot and lets them simmer in concert with each other, feeding into the story of one young man.

Moonlight follows Chiron through three stages of his life, firstly as a young child who gets pseudo-mentored by a crack dealer, secondly as an often-bullied teenager and lastly as a full grown adult now working on the block and running drugs. Many through lines exist throughout the three sections including his fractured relationship with his crack-addicted mother, his discovering of his (homo)sexuality and his friend Kevin who is the first person he first becomes intimate with and eventually shapes a lot of who he becomes and subsequently who he never became.

The film works because it takes all these large themes and plays them out on the small scale and focuses them on one character as he progresses through his “boyhood.” It allows us to relate on certain levels (ie. growing up, sexuality, first love, bullying), but it also creates further layers in presenting it through ways that one may not be familiar with directly. It uses the presence of drugs, living in the ghetto, homosexuality, black lives and uses it to inform and play against certain stereotypes and what we generally think are associated with these ideas and making it clear that that’s not always the case.

It’s wonderfully acted by all three of Alex Hibbert, Ashton Sanders and Trevante Rhodes who all display the quiet stillness of Chiron and are all remarkably skilled at showcasing every emotion that runs through his brain by portraying it on their face. While Chiron never says much verbally, it’s usually always painted directly on his face. The film’s cinematography is wonderfully done with a lot of dark muted blues that help suspend the film in this depressed dreamscape for a lot of what’s representing Chiron and his current head space.

Ultimately, Moonlight is about a lot of various things, but at the base of things it’s about those small personal moments that we hold near and dear to us for years, and something that can provide a life-changing effect for oneself, that might never even register on someone else’s radar. That’s the thing about growing up, love or whatever, it’s never the big, grandiose moments that have the biggest effect on our lives and relationships, it’s the the small personal moments that act as connective tissue to the different stages of your life, for good and bad, and something that continues to trace throughout your life and helps make you the person who you were twenty ago, who you are now, and the person who you’ll be after the next twenty years.