Movie Review: "Manchester by the Sea"

Can we ever outrun the burdens of our past, or are we stuck carrying them for the rest of our lives? Does a person who makes a terrible mistake deserve another chance, or should they be doomed to a life of misery? At times brutal, at times hopeful, Kenneth Lonergan's Manchester by the Sea attempts to answer those questions.

Lee Chandler (a mesmerizing Casey Affleck) is a custodian for several apartment buildings. He's clearly good at his job, although it is also evident that he isn't challenged much, and is mostly going through the motions. He is well-liked by some tenants, treated as invisible by others, and still others get on his last nerve, and he's not afraid to tell them what he thinks, even if he shouldn't. But there has to be a reason a seemingly intelligent, good-looking man would be willing to live a near-monastic existence, punctuated only by bouts of drunken bar fights.

One day he gets a call he has been somewhat expecting: his brother (Kyle Chandler), who had been suffering from congestive heart failure for a number of years, has died. Lee has to head back to his hometown of Manchester, MA, to tell his teenage nephew Patrick (Lucas Hedges) about his father's death and handle the arrangements. It's not long before being back in Manchester starts to wear on him—people talk about him behind his back, stare at him, and many can't seem to hide their disdain. That, coupled with having to essentially serve as Patrick's chauffeur (and pimp, of sorts), is more than he can handle given the grief he is feeling.

When Lee finds out that his brother named him Patrick's legal guardian and made arrangements for him to move back to Manchester, there is nothing he wants less. He tries to find someone else willing to care for Patrick, and, failing that, starts planning to move Patrick back to Boston, where he has been living. But Patrick doesn't understand why Lee can't just stay in Manchester, given he didn't have much of a job or a life back in Boston. After all, why should Patrick, who has his whole life in Manchester, be uprooted?

Having to encounter his ex-wife Randi (Michelle Williams) is even harder than he expected. Lee knows he has to figure things out for Patrick's sake and his own, but he doesn't know if he can handle being in Manchester much longer without completely falling apart. And he doesn't know if he's really ready to face the reason he left years ago, even if he needs to for Patrick's sake.

Manchester by the Sea is a really bleak, sad movie at times, but there are glimmers of hope and humor. It is the performances, however, which save the movie from sinking into complete depression. Affleck, who has been known of late more for his off-screen antics and rants than his acting, gives the performance of his career in this movie. Lee is a man who has being seriously suffering, and he clearly thinks he doesn't deserve anything better. Affleck's portrayal treads the fine line between melancholy and stoicism, but you can see in his eyes and his gestures just how much he is hurting.

Williams' role is a fairly small but tremendously pivotal one. There is one scene where Randi and Lee run into each other on the street that both broke my heart and took my breath away. She is so fantastic in this small role; it seems really unfortunate that it appears the Oscars will have her competing in the same category as Viola Davis who, while utterly fantastic in Fences, appears in 95 percent of that movie.

This is the first time I've seen Hedges, who has mostly tiny movie and television roles to his credit. He does a great job here. Patrick is cocky but vulnerable, selfish but still sensitive. While at first he seems like a young man who expects everything to go his way, as the movie unfolds, you realize that he, too, has a lot of hidden hurt inside him.

Lonergan has really created a fantastic film, despite its heaviness. And while this is certainly an emotionally weighty movie, there is much that transpires in the words not said, as well as the things the characters say to each other. It is truly an Oscar-worthy film; both Affleck and Williams deserve to win, although the former is far more likely than the latter, and I'd love to see Hedges included among the Best Supporting Actor nominees.

I wouldn't see this if you're feeling emotionally vulnerable, but see it. These performances, this story may break your heart, but hopefully you'll realize everyone deserves at least a little hope.

Movie Review: "Jackie"

To me, Jackie Kennedy has always seemed like a total enigma. Although she approached her role as first lady with tremendous poise, grace, and style, quite often it appeared as if she wished she could have been anywhere else. And while I wasn't alive during the Kennedy administration, I always admired the fierceness with which she protected her privacy despite still being such an iconic figure, as well as her devotion to her children.

Pablo Larraín's film mainly concentrates on Jackie's life in the moments, days, and weeks after her husband's assassination, one of the most traumatic events the American public had experienced in some time. It also looks back on certain instances in which she demonstrated the flair, the youthful interest in culture, the elegance which endeared her to the public.

The majority of the movie has Jackie (Natalie Portman, practically disappearing into her character) talking to a journalist (Billy Crudup) about what she thinks her husband's legacy should be, and what life was like for her prior to, during, and after the assassination. Of course, she's not going to let him actually publish most of what she says, but the interview is a perfect opportunity to share her frustrations, her fears, what she perceives to be her lack of purpose, and most of all, her grief.

Immediately following the assassination, Jackie had to deal not only with her grief, but how to appropriately embody that to the American people. She was determined that her husband's funeral and burial should be appropriate for a world leader, especially one with his stature, despite his family's reticence and the desire of the new president to control the situation. (Those not alive during this time might not realize that for a while, no one was completely sure whether Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone, or if Kennedy's assassination was part of a larger plot which could endanger the country.)

Jackie was a whirlwind of emotions and demands, much to the chagrin of Bobby Kennedy (Peter Sarsgaard), who has appointed himself her protector. He, too, is concerned about his brother's legacy, but isn't sure the spectacle Jackie wants is right for the country. But as she struggles with her faith, her feelings about her husband and their marriage, and her crushing grief, she is more concerned with doing what is right, what will make people remember her husband and his presidency into the future.

While the movie itself moves at a very slow pace, Portman is utterly mesmerizing. She has Kennedy's breathy, patrician speech patterns down pat, and many times when I saw her on screen I didn't think I was looking at an actress portraying Jackie Kennedy, I thought I was looking at Kennedy herself. This is truly a tour de force performance, one I thought was even stronger than her Oscar-winning performance in Black Swan. It could even net her a second Oscar.

Amazingly, although this movie has a large cast, it often seems like a one-woman show, because the focus is mainly on Jackie. I'm a Sarsgaard fan but didn't think he brought anything special to his portrayal of RFK, and while Greta Gerwig does a sympathetic turn as White House Social Secretary Nancy Tuckerman, and John Hurt brings some crusty charm as Jackie's priest, this is Portman's movie.

I don't know how close to the truth this movie adheres, but it was a fascinating look at such a turbulent time in American history, and how passionate Jackie Kennedy was about preserving her husband's legacy. Living in the Washington, DC area, it is a legacy that is still very much a part of this city, so we can be grateful for all she fought for.

Movie Review: "Moonlight"

Figuring out who you are, finding your place in this world can be difficult for anyone, especially if you get the sense you are different from others. This journey of self-discovery is at the crux of Barry Jenkins' spare, beautiful, and moving film, Moonlight.

The movie is told in three different segments, "Little," "Chiron," and "Black," three names which Chiron, a young boy growing up in a rough Miami neighborhood, is called. In the first segment, he is a young, wide-eyed boy who walks at a slow, dreamy pace, generally keeping his head down and barely speaking, and he doesn't understand why the other kids bully him and call him "soft."

While fleeing from bullies in an abandoned building, he encounters Juan (House of Cards' Mahershala Ali), the neighborhood's drug dealer. The boy awakens Juan's protective instincts, and once he realizes that Chiron's mother (Naomie Harris), a nurse struggling with drug addiction and ways to feed that addiction, isn't providing much in the area of parenting, Juan and his girlfriend Teresa (Janelle Monáe) become guardians of sorts, although they find it difficult to break through the boy's shell.

In the second segment, Chiron is a high school student still trying to find his way clear of his bullying classmates, who seem to up the ante at every turn, and his mother, who is fully in addiction's grip. Only one friend, Kevin, seems to understand what he is going through, yet that friendship is quickly exploited as well. Chiron remembers Juan's advice about carving out his own path in the world and not letting anyone decide who he is or should be.

In the third segment, approximately 10 years later, Chiron is a powerful drug dealer in Atlanta, becoming almost a mirror of what Juan was when they first met. Out of the blue, he hears from Kevin, who is a cook at a restaurant in Miami, and he invites Chiron to visit sometime so he can make him a meal. Kevin is surprised at how quickly Chiron shows up, and both men are surprised at how the other has changed, and where their lives have taken them.

Obviously there are many details between the lines that I've left out of my synopsis, because the beauty of this film lies in watching the story and Chiron's life develop. This is, for the most part, a quiet movie—there are sparks from time to time, but much of the plot unfolds in Chiron's expressions and actions rather than dialogue. At times, Jenkins leaves some blanks for you to fill in, so one person may see something differently than another.

The acting in Moonlight is extraordinary. Harris is alternately fiery and powerless, and you both sympathize with and hate her. Ali's performance, while rather short, is deservedly being recognized with film critics' awards and has a very good shot at being honored with an Oscar. Monáe, appearing in two films this year, proves she is as talented an actress as she is a singer. But the film belongs to the trio of actors who play Chiron—Alex Hibbert, Ashton Sanders, and Trevante Rhodes. Each brings sensitivity and emotion to their performances, and there is a quiet fire you can see in each of their eyes.

At several points in the movie, Chiron is asked, "Who is you?" He doesn't necessarily have an answer, but Moonlight gives you insight into what—and who—drives this boy forward into the man he becomes. It's a beautiful, thoughtful movie, and really unlike anything I've seen in some time.

Book Review: "Another Brooklyn" by Jacqueline Woodson

Wow, this book was absolutely exquisite and powerfully emotional.

"Sylvia, Angela, Gigi, August. We were four girls together, amazingly beautiful and terrifyingly alone."

Another Brooklyn is a memory poem of sorts, a lamentation on lost youth and the intensity of adolescent friendships which burn with an intense heat for a period of time, only to leave behind the ashes of longing, anger, and regret.

Seeing an old friend on the subway brings August face-to-face with her memories. She remembers growing up in Brooklyn in the 1970s after her father brought her and her younger brother from their home in Tennessee. She remembers longing for their troubled mother to join them, remembers how sheltered her father kept them for a while, not allowing them to leave their small apartment. But most of all she remembers watching Sylvia, Angela, and Gigi as they walked down the street, jumped rope, and appeared inseparable, possessing a bond August so desperately desired.

"I was eleven, the idea of two identical digits in my age still new and spectacular and heartbreaking. The girls must have felt this. They must have known. Where had ten, nine, eight, and seven gone? And now the four of us were standing together for the first time. It must have felt like a beginning, an anchoring."

August recalls how the four girls came from disparate ethnic and economic backgrounds yet dealt with the same things—fear of the junkies and the perverts and the creeps who stared at them, wanting them as they matured; wanting to be desired by their boyfriends yet fearful of giving them what they really wanted; and wanting desperately for their dreams to come true, whether they were of stardom, of money, or of a family unit made whole once more. She recounts the way her father struggled, only to find peace as a Muslim, a peace he tried to impart to his children.

The book reflects the changing demographics of the Brooklyn August remembers, one which saw the white people fleeing for Manhattan and the suburbs as increasing numbers of people from all over the world, people with less and less money, moved in. The book also reflects the veterans returning from Vietnam with drug addiction, the murders of young African-American girls all over Brooklyn, the sighs of relief after the Son of Sam held New York in his grip.

Jacqueline Woodson's prose is absolutely luminous in this book. I would read and re-read sentences and paragraphs, and find myself in awe of the language and imagery she used. She let me loose both in the story and in my own memories, as I remembered those friendships, that longing to fit in and be part of a group, to feel both powerful and helpless simultaneously.

This is a short book that has a lot of weight and depth to it. I haven't ever read anything Woodson has written, but she truly dazzled me. I know I'm a little late to the party on this one, but I'm glad I showed up, because this is a book I would regret having missed.

Book Review: "Mister Monkey" by Francine Prose

I remember a number of times attending a local professional theater production that wasn't particularly good, and I wondered about those involved. Did the actors know it was bad, and if so, were they soldiering on for the sake of the audience, or were they so far gone in their own careers that this was the best they could do? It was an interesting, but somewhat sad thought.

"But the actors and presumably the director never expected that they would wind up doing that play—in that theater. Whatever they'd hoped to achieve in their careers certainly wasn't that."

Francine Prose's new novel reminded me a bit of those productions. The story of a very-far-off-Broadway production of a children's musical called "Mister Monkey," the book is both satire and commentary on many different aspects of our society. It's surprisingly sensitive and astute in some places, amusing in others, and doesn't quite work as a whole.

"Mister Monkey" is a musical that has had many runs all over the world over the years, but probably should have been taken off the boards a while ago. The story of an orphaned chimpanzee who is adopted by a widower and his children, only to be surprised when the cheekily larcenous monkey is accused of stealing the wallet belonging to his father's girlfriend, the musical is a favorite of some and reviled by others, yet it lives on. (Even the author of the book on which the musical is based hates the stage adaptation.)

The cast of the latest production is in a bit of an uproar. Adam, the young gymnast who plays the title character, is in the throes of puberty, and his alternately lascivious and obnoxious behavior has nearly all of his fellow actors on edge. Margot, a once-promising actress who views this production as a true sign of her downfall, not only finds herself being preyed on by Adam, but mistreated by the director, who outfits her in a garish costume that makes her feel foolish. Lakshmi, the earnest young costume supervisor, doesn't quite understand her purpose in the show, but views it as fodder for the play she wishes to write.

Each of these characters is the focus of their own chapter, as are everyone from the show's director and the author of the original book, to an elderly grandfather who is in the audience the first day the wheels start to come off of the production, his grandson, his grandson's kindergarten teacher, and a waiter at a fancy restaurant who is given tickets to the show by the author. It's an interesting approach, one which seems to be used more frequently in books, and here it has mixed results.

I'll admit, I expected this book to focus on the show and those involved, and those chapters were the ones I enjoyed the most. I get what Prose was trying to do with the other chapters, both demonstrate the show's effect on audience members, the author, etc., and provide commentary about our culture, how children are raised these days, and so on, but I just didn't feel this worked as well as it could have.

Prose is one hell of a writer, however, and she has created a very memorable set of characters, as well as imagery that you truly can see in your mind's eye. (I could almost picture certain musical numbers she described, in all their dysfunctional glory.) I just wish this book didn't try to do too much, because when it focused on the musical itself and those involved, it was, shall we say, a hit?

Book Review: "The Association of Small Bombs" by Karan Mahajan

"And you know what happens when a bomb goes off? The truth about people comes out."

Dense and well-told, although a bit meandering, Karan Mahajan's The Association of Small Bombs is a thought-provoking look at the causes and effects of terrorism, the human cost even "small" bombs can exact, and how a terrorist can be "grown."

One day in 1996, two young boys, Tushar and Nakul Khurana, are sent by their father to a crowded Delhi market to pick up the family's television set. While they were supposed to drop off their friend Mansoor first, they convince him to join them on the journey to the market. And then disaster strikes—a bomb detonates in the marketplace, killing the brothers instantly, and injuring Mansoor. Bleeding and in pain from his injuries, Mansoor finally makes it home, to the relief of his overprotective parents, but finds himself in the midst of the Khuranas' crushing grief.

The Khuranas try to understand why their sons were killed, who was responsible for the bombing, and what cause they were trying to further. But the course of Indian justice rarely runs smoothly, and while there is suspicion that the perpetrators arrested for the bombing were even responsible, there are continuous roadblocks and delays in the prosecution, which frustrate and sadden the couple. The grief, the anger, the guilt starts to take its toll on their marriage, their health, their future, and not even positive events can help them for long.

Meanwhile, Mansoor, physically and psychologically scarred by the bombing, feels smothered by his overprotective parents as he grows older. He dislikes the stigma of being one of very few Muslims in his part of India, so he chooses to go to the U.S. for college, to pursue a career in computer programming and put the past behind him. But his injuries are compounded by carpal tunnel syndrome, so he has no choice but to return home to India.

Back in India, rudderless, he becomes friends with Ayub, a passionate activist who is determined to change the world. But although he projects a confident exterior, Ayub, too, is rudderless and easily persuaded by forces looking to use him. Through Ayub and Mansoor's eyes, you see how quickly situations and perceptions can change in a post-9/11 world. Their stories are juxtaposed with that of Shockie, a master bomb maker from Pakistan who has sacrificed relationships and a real life for his devotion to his craft.

While terrorist attacks have increased across our world in recent years, The Association of Small Bombs provides the perspectives of those who live with the threat of these attacks on an almost-daily basis. It is fascinating and horrifying to watch the callousness of some who witness these bombings and are more focused on how their livelihood can continue rather than the loss of lives. Watching as an activist is influenced until they become motivated to kill is equally disturbing.

I thought this was a well-written and powerful book. Mahajan does a good job shifting narrative perspectives between the affected, the aggrieved, and the perpetrators. I don't think I can say, however, that I particularly liked the book; despite the raw emotions it examined, it felt strangely cold to me. But in the end, this is an important piece of fiction, one that makes you think, especially when you hear news of bombings in other countries.

Book Review: "The News from the End of the World" by Emily Jeanne Miller

Things aren't going so well for Vance Lake. He's just lost his job teaching college, he's broke, and yet another relationship has ended. With no other alternative, he heads up to Cape Cod for his twin brother Craig's house, where he hopes to lick his wounds and figure out his next move. But when he arrives at Craig's, he discovers that he's not the only Lake in the midst of serious turmoil.

Craig, too, is struggling financially, as he and his wife Gina recently did a great deal of remodeling of their home, which Craig was counting on being paid for by business from his design-build firm. He's gaining weight, losing money, his wife is considering having an affair with one of his best friends (although he's unaware of this), and his biggest disappointment is that his 17-year-old daughter Amanda, who should be getting ready to start at Dartmouth in the fall, is in a downward spiral, and now she's pregnant.

The Lake brothers handle their crises in different ways—Vance prefers getting stoned, while Craig alternates between sullen silence and fits of rage, directed at everyone—Gina, Amanda, himself, and his favorite target, his misfit twin brother. For the longest time, Vance is kept in the dark about what is happening with Amanda, and he tries desperately to help, as he's always had a special place in his heart for his niece, but when he learns the truth, it stirs up memories he had tried to forget.

Amanda is upset she let her father down but is angry at the way he's treating her, and she also feels betrayed and alone. She knows the decision she needs to make to get her life back on track, but isn't sure she can. And Gina, who has always stuck by Craig through the hard times, finds it growing more difficult to do so, especially when one of his longtime friends starts making her feel beautiful again. But mostly, she's trying to be supportive of Amanda, regardless of the friction that decision could bring to her marriage.

The News from the End of the World takes place over a period of four tumultuous days, and chapters are narrated alternately by Vance, Craig, Gina, and Amanda. This is a family with all sorts of problems, and most of them don't seem to be handling things well at all. But of course, if they were willing to communicate with each other honestly instead of gravitating to anger and rehashing old grudges, things would certainly be better!

I thought this was a good, if predictable, look at a family in crisis. Emily Jeanne Miller has thrown a lot of things at her characters and they're not sure if they'll sink or swim. Miller knows how to tell a story and make you want to keep reading, but some of her characters have so many issues and unresolved feelings, that they're not particularly sympathetic. (Hell, Craig is a total jerk through most of the book, even though you understand why.) But you do want to know what happens to everyone, even if you may have your suspicions.

NetGalley and Houghton Mifflin Harcourt provided me an advance copy of the book in exchange for an unbiased review. Thanks for making this available!