Moonlight [Review by CLGJr]

The events of the last week have cast a dark pall over the entertainment industry. We’ve seen truly cold opens and a despairing eulogy delivered by a reliably giddy late night host. Amidst the gloom, where is a guy supposed to turn for emotional balm? (Certainly not “Keeping Up with the Joneses,” the accidental whipping boy here at the Parsing Haus.) Now it might seem plain dumb to seek shelter in a wrenching piece of cinema. But when the film is as exceptional, as enthralling, and as essential as “Moonlight,” well, a little more heartbreak is completely worth the eventual sigh of catharsis.

Told in three chapters, each reflecting pivotal points in the protagonist’s journey, “Moonlight” astonishes at every turn. Those episodes bear the titles “Little,” “Chiron,” and “Black,” the middle one being his Christian name. The other two signify respective stages of stunted growth in Miami and adult development in Atlanta. When we meet Chiron as a young boy (an excellent Alex Hibbert), he is sullen beyond words. In fact, he barely utters any. That is, until a chance encounter with local narcotics dealer Juan (the ascendant Mahershala Ali) after Little is chased into a crack den by homophobic scamps. Juan embraces Little like the son he will never have. So, too, does Juan’s girlfriend Teresa as played by the triple threat Janelle Monáe. Their unwavering support bumps up starkly against the drug-addled abuse served up daily by his mother Paula (a fierce Naomie Harris). You don’t have to inhabit Little’s brain to feel the indelible pain suffered when Paula, filled with uncontrollable rage, inaudibly screams a horrific epithet at her son.

The latter two narratives capture teenage Chiron (a fine Ashton Sanders), looking even more like a cowering animal but now with lanky limbs and a severe mien. He floats through high school and home, trying to avoid the taunts of a vicious bully. At Chiron’s side is Kevin (Jharrel Jerome), who is at various times his best friend, confidant, and Judas. Kevin’s fluidity carries him from graphic boasts of a schoolhouse heterosexual conquest to helping Chiron explore his own identity in a gorgeously moonlit (duh) montage. Their relationship is the real anchor of the film, with the Juan storyline literally fleshing out adult Chiron by the final act. The once scrawny, helpless child now resembles a young Curtis Jackson and has adopted the look and cadence of his erstwhile Miami mentor. Setting vital dialogue in diners could have been a disastrous, cliché move. Instead, the actors completely nail it. If you get through the extended pas de deux between the older Chiron (a haunting Trevante Rhodes) and Kevin (André Holland) without being overwhelmed by the #feels, you’re just stone cold.

Director Barry Jenkins, who penned the script (based on a story by Tarell McCraney), wastes nary a moment and misses not a single beat. It’s astonishing work, the kind that hasn’t come close to complete sensory overload in nearly a decade. “Moonlight” might or might not enter the modern pantheon; the passage of time easily could diminish its influence. But for now, in this dreadful final quarter of 2016, it’s a landmark achievement worthy of consideration. Cuban-American Juan, for example, could have been a pale imitation of his Italian counterpart, Jimmy Conway. Instead, Jenkins and Ali imbue the character with internal complexity. Just watch him break down after admitting to Little that he sells drugs to the child’s mother. Or scan the three faces of Chiron and find visible suffering mixed with satisfied power.

“Woke” films usually don’t come as stunningly packaged as “Moonlight.” Too often the heavy hand of messaging snuffs out the possibility for inspired imagery. Not so here. The color palettes—saturated in neon-tinged blues and purples—and the rotating camerawork around Chiron evoke both lucid nightmares and waking pleasure dreams. Jenkins employs tracking shots judiciously, many of which conjure Van Sant’s trademark back-of-the-head perspectives. Such constant kinetic energy animates the story to great effect, and a score punctuated by darting strings elevates the most harrowing scenes.

“Moonlight” will inevitably draw some comparisons to “Brokeback Mountain,” but any similarities are purely superficial. The gravity of sexual and racial intersectionality makes this film an arguably deeper exploration of what society deems appropriate displays of masculinity. With the minor exception of Paula, who teeters on the knife’s edge of exploitative caricature, Jenkins’ screenplay features fully realized persons. Such a basic notion shouldn’t have to be celebrated in films depicting the African-American experience, but here we must. For “Moonlight” just might be the best picture released this year.

CLGJr Verdict: What more can I say? This movie is a visionary triumph, full stop.    

Moonlight opened Friday October 21.

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