Chris At The Pictures

The year started off as it should,

Serving all that Oscar-bait could.

There were small indie flicks

And some biopics

But a few of them were actually good!

La La Land took most of the prizes,

But Moonlight brought all the surprises.

It’s great specificity

And success for diversity

Gave us all grins like sunrises.

Jackie felt a bit overlooked,

Maybe it seemed undercooked?

But Portman’s a joy

And that score? Oh boy!

It’s epilogue sure had me spooked.

February never failed to appease;

LEGO Batman bringing many a wheeze.

Hidden Figures was bright,

Even T2 was alright,

As for John Wick 2: yes please!

March had a great deal of clout,

With the bleakness of Logan about.

Kong: Skull Island looked nice,

Beauty and ‘Beast may suffice,

But we all know the winner: Get Out!

Things dry up at this point,

As April and May disappoint.

Pirates was a bedwetter,

King Arthur’s no better,

So Colossal’s the queen I anoint.

And now for summer’s usual haul,

Through franchise fare we must trawl.

The Mummy was a curse,

Transformers 5 even worse,

Was Wonder Woman worth it all?

So, what’s to look forward to?

Some arthouse, maybe something brand new?

I’m sorry to bore you all,

But I’m that predictable:

It’s Star Wars: The Last Jedi, woo-hoo!

Moonlight begins with a statement by song: Boris Gardiner’s Every N****r is a Star. The star in this movie’s galaxy is Chiron (Alex Hibbert/Ashton Sanders/Trevante Rhodes), a young black man struggling with his sexuality. Based on a drama school project by playwright Tarell Alvin McCraney, the film takes the form of three distinct acts that track Chiron’s journey from childhood, through adolescence and into adulthood. These segments in turn are constructed of vignettes so delicate and tender you daren’t breathe, lest they shatter.

Flat-out racism and refusal to engage with diverse narratives aside, I cannot understand the mind-set of critics and audiences who declare nothing to connect with here. Whether it’s the question of how we choose to identify versus the labels placed on us by others, how masculinity takes many different forms, the interlinking between sexuality and expression, or even subtle notes on depression and anxiety,Moonlight offers so much to discuss with barely a word spoken. Mahershala Ali (long may he reign) provides the major mouthpiece as Juan; a drug dealer who dispenses wisdom to a young Chiron (nicknamed Little). It’s through Juan’s calm intonation and the prolonged silences of pain by each incarnation of Chiron (incidentally, all three leads are perfect) that gives the film such a profound voice despite a deference to showing, not telling.

Every single moment of exquisite heartache is elevated by James Laxton’s cinematography. The colours meld and blur and burn, a kaleidoscope of cool blues and searing purple that are incredible even when removed from the context of a film that gifts us so many indelible images. Director Barry Jenkins has shown me things that cinema has never offered before: a romantic jukebox denouement reserved for two men, a complete lack of white speaking parts, and the sight of a muscled black man crying that isn’t played for comedic effect, even remotely.

This complete contrast with any film I’ve ever seen before is probably my favourite thing about a film full of astonishing elements. I have a terrible habit of referring to other films an awful lot, but Moonlight is so different that I have almost no frame of reference, and I can’t understate how exciting that is. The one allusion I could find was a comparison with this year’s A Monster Calls, which I said empowered every lonely child to “admit their quietest truth at thunderous volume”. Moonlight is the flipside; expressing the loudest components of self-expression and character as a mere whisper.

I’m not about to say I had a ball with it, because that wouldn’t be entirely true: I think one could argue that some of the narrative might fall into place a little too neatly. I’m tempted to say that’s not necessarily a bad thing – given how the minorities represented are so rarely given any kind of narrative justice – but I am aware that saying so might come across as patronising.

While its general themes are infinitely successful, its specificity is still occasionally difficult for someone so far from its frame of reference…but I don’t consider that an issue. For those who do understand these experiences, who have had their background, sexuality and racial identity used as the basis for prejudice, Moonlight is going to be unspeakably important. The specific periphery of Jenkins’ film is what makes it so special, what makes it feel like a story where, for the briefest instant, the outside world may as well not exist; a welcome escape indeed.