There is probably not a lot I could say about Moonlight (2016) that would be new. Its critical acclaim is vast and comprehensive, as exemplified by its 2017 Oscar for Best Picture (we’ll ignore the La La Land snafu for now…) so you don’t need me to sit here and write about why this is such an incredible film. But I’m going to do it regardless because this film deserves endless applause.

It took me an embarrassingly long time to finally watch Moonlight. It was the classic situation where there is so much build-up, so much hype for a film that it gets to a point where you become too afraid to actually see it, in fear that it will never be able to live up to the incredibly high standards you have established in your mind from word of mouth. But I decided to take the risk and watch it after years of waiting and I can safely say that I did not experience even a pinch of disappointment. I cannot thank Barry Jenkins enough for portraying a character we so rarely encounter in cinema. Moonlight is a masterpiece that reflects the intricacies of a true experience, an experience that is extremely nuanced and hardly ever represented on the silver screen. The film seems to bleed authenticity. Somehow so painfully realistic whilst simultaneously hyper-stylised, this piece depicts both the mundane and the extraordinary experiences in life, experiences that are so personal to the individual and yet collectively felt at the same time.

Jenkins depicts the classic three act structure of life: childhood, adolescence and adulthood. This holy trinity is by no means new and yet feels so reinvigorated and refreshing in Moonlight. The progression of Little/Chiron/Black is symbolic, realistic and aesthetic. But ultimately it is tragically sweet. A lost boy becomes a lost man, slowly finding his way towards his truth – a journey we all must eventually embark upon in life. The film demonstrates how we carry both our demons and our gods with us – that which we fear and that which we idolise come to be the very tenets that define our identities. For Black, his identity is profoundly intersectional. Growing up lower-class, black, gay and fatherless, Little/Chiron/Black is born into adversity as life continues to attempt to trap him within rigid labels, social categories and expectations. As long as he struggles to find the parallels between each of the intersections of his being, he will remain fragmented and broken. He must accept each individual part of himself before he can accept and love the whole.

Far beyond being a beautiful, captivating bildungsroman, this film is a journey of self-discovery that deviates so wonderfully from every other coming-of-age title. While watching it, I was in a constant state of awe as a result of the aesthetic cinematographic choices, emotionally stimulated by the operatic, often polyphonic sound-score and on the verge of tears from the ‘realness’ that burst from every line and facial expression. “I cry so much, sometimes I feel like I’mma turn into drops,” Chiron said, after which his friend, Kevin, says, “and just roll out into the water, right?”. These two lines alone effectively summarise this film’s heart. Growing up, finding ourselves, navigating our messy, complicated world are such difficult experiences that so often leave you feeling helpless and alone, a mere element of the Earth that will be consumed and re-introduced into the earth, air or water. Jenkins subverts so many pre-conceived notions of masculinity, showing us that men can be as nuanced, gentle, emotional and expressive as any other. I can’t count the number of stereotypes deconstructed in Moonlight. And it is about damn time cinema attempted to veer away from archetypes and tropes.

Visually and auditorily soothing, Moonlight is brilliantly therapeutic for any viewer. Its gentle pacing and structured form encourages you to take its hand as it guides you along the life of a troubled, yet gorgeously unique and multifaceted man. Through learning about Little/Chiron/Black, you learn about yourself and who you were as a child, as an adolescent and now as an adult; which demons and gods you have carried through into maturity; how layered your own identity is and how those layers intersect. We struggle alongside Little/Chiron/Black and in doing so we become united. We become a strong, nuanced collective. We persevere. We grow.

If you’re sick of reading about horror movies or you need a small break from the blood, guts and screams then here are some of my thoughts and musings about films that fall outside of the horror genre. You’ll find anything here – comedy, drama, action, thriller, film noir, etc. Hope you enjoy!

Where to begin on this exquisite masterpiece? I went into this movie knowing that it had already been a big buzzword during Academy Award season and that it ultimately walked away as an award-winner. I also went into knowing that it deals with the themes of love and commitment in unapologetic, confronting ways. Despite having all of this previous knowledge, I was still left with tears streaming down my face as the end credits rolled and I sat there, in the dark, wondering how humanity manages to get through each day in a reality where there can often be so much pain, loss, complexity an disappointment. But I then realised that that was only one half of what the film depicted. The other half illustrated life’s unending potential for forgiveness, reconciliation, cooperation, and a kind of love that is genuinely enduring and unbreakable. The marriage between Nora (Scarlet Johansson) and Charlie (Adam Driver) was unbelievably real. So much so that it sometimes hut to watch. As the viewer, we were forced to follow each of them equally as they navigated a messy divorce, custody of their child and the trauma caused by a love lost. You don’t take sides. There is no good/bad binary. There is no black and white. They are both just human . Which means they are inherently flawed – they scream, they cry, they make bot minor and major mistakes throughout. But each person is imbued with their own form of beauty, grace and dignity. It has been a long time since I saw such realism, to the point that I could see myself and my own struggles reflected painfully on-screen. Painful, yet revealing. And strangely cathartic as I embraced the reassurance that life absolutely is complicated, it doesn’t always go to plan, and love is by no means a straight-shot to eternal bliss. 

Beyond the character development of the two protagonists (supported by impeccable acting from all sides), the entire film is saturated with realism that completely and utterly consumes the viewers. The loud, incomprehensible chatter in public spaces, making it close to impossible to actually determine which piece of dialogue is pertinent to the plot, creates the impression that you are literally walking along a busy New York street alongside Charlie, straining to hear him over the bustling traffic and noisy bystanders. Characters interrupting each other as Nora and Charlie stare painful (and longingly) at each other amidst a crowded space, blunt and unabashedly loud conversations that are just plain gossip shared between co-workers about a disintegrating marriage in front of the very people involved in the drama, and soul-wrenching musical numbers that bore into your soul as you navigate the emotional whirlpool that is divorce, marriage and adulthood. All of these things left me mesmerised, completely absorbed in the world of the film, convinced that I actually was Nora or Charlie and that I was experiencing this tragic series of events myself. We’ve all dealt with heartbreak and there is probably some more heartbreak in the future for many of us. So we know that heartbreak can feel like death. For Nora and Charlie, we watch them undergo a unique form of emotional death – we watch them lose themselves momentarily only to eventually rediscover who they are, and like a phonic rising from the ashes, the fog clears and their lives continue on. Not as planned, but that is life. You can’t always rely on plans. Marriage Story prepares you better than many other films for the obstacles that life can and will throw at you. But it’s not as simple as just letting go of the past. Just as it is for this broken couple, our pasts and histories remain with us, intricately interwoven into our present and out future. That can be painful at times, but it can also be fulfilling and sentimental. Although Nora and Charlie obviously part ways, the film ends with a subtle, implicit declaration of undying love for each there. Obviously it couldn’t be a love shared in a marriage anymore, but it was love nevertheless. After watching this film, instead of dwelling on the sadness evident throughout, I can only think of how the human soul and heart has such an infinite capacity for love. Regardless of the insults hurled at one another, regardless of the money spent on the divorce, regardless of the wedge driven between the two of them from distance and an incompatibility of desires, Nora and Charlie will always hold the other in their heart. Love perseveres, even if it does alter and change with time. I never thought a film about divorce would teach me about the wonders and possibilities of love, but it certainly did. Truly a remarkable film that does not cower from the intricacy and complication of life, instead facing it with such assertion that life has no choice but to reveal its beauty and grace in the face of gloom and despair.