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Moonlight (2016)
'The only one.'
Little. Chiron. Black. Three names, but only one story. The story of an everyday boy, struggling with the conditions life has decided to put him through. 'Moonlight' is not merely the title of Barry Jenkin's work, but it is an active and fundamental character of the movie itself. Juan, some kind of spiritual father for the protagonist, tells Little that once an old woman said to him: "In moonlight, black boys look blue". This is, indeed, the core of the story, and a key to interpret it as well: the moon reveals the real nature of black people, and in particular of our characters, because it makes them lighter, not black but blue. It colours them. More than that, 'blue' in English is not just the word for a colour, but it expresses a whole state of mind and feelings: being blue means being melancholic, being nostalgic, being rather sad. Little and Chiron had to go through so much more pain than the other children or kids of their age, that they became Black. Nevertheless, Black is just a dark and rough surface for what's really inside the character, something the latter buried in order to go on, to protect himself, to survive: his real soul, and, fatally bound to it, a great pain. Pain for his tragic family situation, and pain for his homosexuality. This great matter is both subtly and deeply shown in the movie, with no moral presumptions of saying whether it's right or wrong, or how a person should handle it. It's just a person's trait, and by being so, each person has to deal with it in a different way, according to who they are and what and whom they are surrounded by. Sadly for Little and Chiron, they were not in the best environment to grow up in, and this lead them to clam up; luckily for Black, his old best friend Kevin, with whom he shared his first - and "only" - homosexual experience, reaches out to him and exposes him after years of pretend and isolation. "Who is you man?", Kevin asks him; and the only thing Black can answer is: "I'm me, man. Ain't trying to be nothing else." But his face, his body language, the scenes afterwards tell a different truth. Kevin, who is "the only man who ever touched" him, questions him, doubts him, thus reveals him. And, with one of the most beautiful ending shots of the last few years, Black finds his way back to Little, to his one true soul. Wonderfully written and directed by Barry Jenkins, the movie boasts great cinematography accomplishments as well: the shots are very precise and symmetrical, and a great deal of art and poetry emanate from moments like the one with Juan and Little playing in the sea. The colours are wisely and carefully picked, with blue shades as a recurring colour palette, and with a whole other range of colours that tend to represent the atmosphere of the scene or, in particular, the protagonist's state of mind. Thanks to the very common and yet wonderful storyline, and to all the technical qualities of the movie in its whole, the spectator manages to become one with the characters, the seaside, the moonlight: in one word, with the boundless atmosphere. He is drawn to not only see but actually breathe the universe shown on the screen. And to flow in it until the very end.
8½ (1963)
Half
Federico Fellini is a master of dreams and mind mischief. Each and every movie directed by him projects the viewer into an entirely disconnected reality, where characters and symbols take over and rule the scene. This particular side of his creations is the undisputed protagonist of 8 1/2. Starting from the very first scene, the environment and the situation Guido finds himself in are so strange and fantastic that you may as well see the entire movie as a huge dream beginning right in this scene. Not an ordinary dream, of course, but a dream with the precise purpose of helping the protagonist through his crisis as an artist. Guido is in the middle of a movie production, but he just feels lost. He has no direction, no inspiration. He's a half man with a half work. The title could be seen as an irrelevant detail, and as a matter of fact it was meant to be temporary: Fellini used to name the movie 8 1/2 because it actually was his 8 1/2 movie, since he had previously directed nine movies but only co-directed three of them. He declared that he kept the same title out of indecision, but it may as well be likely that his genius mind told him to do so because it actually has a relation to the movie. A half title for a half man with a half work. Guido tries to fill this missing half of himself by seeking answers in the past: his parents, his lovers, his childhood, and, mostly, his Catholic education. Faith and Church are recurring elements in Fellini's movies, but he never actually enhances or criticizes either of them. Not eloquently, at least. They're just way too important in Guido's life, and despite his continuous efforts of trying to pull out answers from them, he simply cannot. Not Faith, not Church; not his women, not his fantasies: as the movie goes on, nobody and nothing seems to be able to save him from his misery. Until, eventually, he understands that the only one standing in his way is himself, not only as his enemy, but as his only possible Saviour as well. "Guido" in Italian literally means "I drive": only by figuring out that he's the driver of his own life can he finally find peace and discover the Truth about himself. "All the confusion of my life has been a reflection of myself: myself as I am, not as I'd like to be. The truth is [...]"
Mommy (2014)
Visceral
There is definitely a lot to say about "Mommy". So many sides to it that I honestly do not know where to begin. The first aspect that really got a hold on me was the cinematography, as well as the photography. The camera, directed by Xavier Dolan, manages to make the viewer breathe an aura of beauty and gleam in most of the scenes, insofar as the movie as a whole can actually be classified as one of those rare masterpieces in which you may - and often you do - easily get lost. And the soundtrack certainly plays a role in this game. From Dido to Céline Dion, from Eiffel 65 to Andrea Bocelli, from Oasis to Ludovico Einaudi, each artist and each song is perfectly accurate for the moment in which it is played. Especially and eventually Lana Del Rey with her "Born To Die". But I think the greatest aspect of the entire movie, if you can find one single aspect better than another one, is the structure and the interior complexity of the very few characters. Both *Die* and Steve, and Kyla as well, have a both strong ad anguished personality, and the bounds that exist among them are, in one word, visceral. As visceral as their true essence. As visceral as the situation in which they are imprisoned, and from which they can escape only in very few moments of « Liberté », as Steve screams to the sky. Only in this coinciding moments the framing widens, turning from a square to a giant rectangle, and the spectator is suddenly swallowed by the excitement of the characters, by their joy. By their innate and genuine HAPPINESS.
Somewhere (2010)
S o m e w h e r e
"Somewhere" is, like any other Sofia Coppola's movie, a very delicate exhibition. The plot is not extraordinary, given what matters, what the director really wants to appraise is the atmosphere. An atmosphere full of little details that contribute to create an halo of dream, perhaps even of magic. Which is what most people think to be the life of an actor: magical. On the contrary, Johnny's life is gray, monotonous, full of problems: in a word, ordinary. So the contrast between the dreamlike and the gray atmosphere mirrors the crack between what Johnny's life should be and what it actually is. This never-ending loop is then broken by Cleo, Johnny's daughter, who initially seems to brighten her daddy's life. They talk, they play, they listen to good music. But then life knocks on the door and sadness kicks back in. So what to do at this point? With an extremely magnificent ending, Johnny suggests just to go S O M E W H E R E.
Maps to the Stars (2014)
Liberté
Before talking about "Maps to the Stars", I have to say that, two years ago, I had already seen and deeply appreciated David Cronenberg's "Cosmopolis": this particular movie, as its ideal sequel, represent not only, as many people may suggest, a critic towards the Hollywood society, but a consideration about a larger group of people. People afflicted by an attitude of alienation, that is taking a distance from themselves in order to reach qualities or values imposed, often not manifestly but in a rather faint way, by society. The protagonist of Cosmopolis is in fact a rich young man (even his tender age could be meaningful) who completely embodies a certain role and a certain stereotype, and who, therefore, has completely lost himself, insofar as he cannot create solid relationships with anybody anymore. Maps to the Stars includes and, at the same time, goes beyond this matter: being probably influenced by Sigmund Freud's theories about childhood traumas and their long-term consequences, Cronenberg depicts a society full of neurotic individuals, who, though adult, still have to deal with past events and are deeply influenced by them. Ironically, all the children in the movie, who may have the possibility to live a different existence from their parents' one, are destroyed by the faults of the latter. Thus giving birth to a vicious circle which ends with no less than a conclusion as much pessimistic as striking: an act of liberation (not to spoiler anything at all) of two main characters. The wonderful poem "Liberté" by Paul Éluard, as a matter of fact, echoes across the entire movie, as much in the words of the characters as in a fading kind of way, like a "fil rouge" that represent both the other face of the corrupted society and an escape to it as well. As far as the technical sphere is concerned, cinematography and music play a fundamental role in determining a quite distorted vision of reality, insofar as they may as well represent the psychology of characters itself: cold colours and a peacefully rhythmic air create an atmosphere of strangeness that vibrates into the depths of the spectator's mind, making the latter fall into a sort of constant hypnosis. Hypnosis that could last until the very end of the movie. As it may be already clear, I deeply recommend watching this movie, in theaters especially - given its majestic technical qualities. Nevertheless, I have to say that, also being a "Palme d'Or" nominated movie, Maps to the Stars is not recommendable for people who are looking for a funny and simple movie: Cronenberg's critic is not comparable to a Woody-Allen kind of irony - although I really love his one as well - but it is a more serious and interpretive one.