FRENCH EXIT

Michelle Pfeiffer     Lucas Hedges     Valerie Mahaffey     Imogen Poots

Susan Coyne     Isaach De Bankole     and the voice of Tracy Letts

     Could there be a more unlikely group to be together in Paris?  The movie takes a while in getting you/them there. It starts out with Frances Price (Pfeiffer) learning—although not for the first time of being told—that she is out of money.  Obviously, from her home, to the way she is dressed, and the places she frequents, she is used to high style living.  She takes her financial manager’s advice and sells her valuables, giving her a tidy sum of money, which would last a lifetime for a frugal person. That, Frances is not.  

     When her best friend Joan (Coyne) learns of her plight, she offers her apartment in Paris, which she rarely uses.  This creates a new problem for Frances' devoted son Malcolm (Hedges), who has just become engaged but hasn’t told her.  It quickly becomes apparent that Malcolm is completely dependent on his mother for money, so he has to tell his fiancé Susan (Poots) goodbye the next day—but of course he wants her to wait for him, even though he has no idea when he will return.

     What is sure to be a capricious journey with this mother-son duo constitutes the plot, involving very odd and unpredictable people pulled into their story as they proceed across the sea on a ship and arrive in Paris, smuggled cat in tow. But the most unpredictable of all is seductive Frances.  She (artfully played by Pfeiffer) tops them all in eccentricity.

     The movie is a farce that one can enjoy (Oh, for the theater popcorn in these Covid-19 times!) by not taking it too seriously and if you can vicariously enjoy living a carefree life with stacks of Euro notes resting on the shelf in your closet.

     Not entirely without some degree of redeeming value, the movie shows honesty among the homeless, waiters, and other average citizens, who try to give back absurd amounts of cash liberally distributed by our heroine.  Emotional health, forgiveness, and honesty come from the effusive Mme. Reynaud (Mahaffey), the type of woman Frances has in the past spurned with a flip of her sarcastic tongue.  

   Interestingly—and perhaps quite intentionally—references to death become a theme throughout this bizarre movie in its appearance in Frances’ overall plan, another dead husband, and séances with Frances’ own dead husband and his association with her black cat.  Perhaps the black cat is a warning about choosing a compromised lifestyle over a more comfortable one.

 A light confection, French Exit will amuse those who are at least a bit philosophical about life.

 

Grade:  C+                                    By Donna R. Copeland

HONEY BOY

Shia Le Beouf     Lucas Hedges     Noah Jupe

     The poster of a boy after getting pie thrown in his face is eloquent in captivating the story behind Honey Boy.  In reality, the picture was made during a filming sequence when the child actor, Shia LeBeouf, was hit in the face with a pie. Metaphorically, it could denote LeBeouf’s childhood when he was living with his father and all kinds of things landed on his head.  At the time, he is a successful child actor who actually pays his father to be his chaperone [his parents are divorced, and with a criminal record, James Lort (LeBeouf) has difficulty finding a job].  

     Honey Boy is a largely autobiographical account written by LeBeouf about his childhood.  He plays the role of his father, whereas Noah Jupe plays “Otis” when he is 12, with Lucas Hedges taking on the role as an adolescent. All three actors give praiseworthy performances.

     It’s a heartfelt rendition, showing the pain of discovery in the young Shia and his agony around the consequences later on.  James Lort is an unorthodox parent, to say the least.  It’s clear he has no inkling about how to be a father or how to guide his son either through role modeling or sage advice. It’s clear he has his own issues that spill over onto his son.  Although he’s desperate and is forced in some ways to have his son support him financially, it is humiliating for him.  

     As happens in such cases, the child takes on a parental role in comforting his father, reasoning with him, soothing his fears and unrest, and trying to coach him on how to be a better parent.  But, of course, this falls on deaf ears and escalates Lort’s discomfort and shame.  It’s so sad to see a child being so direct and clear about his needs and know that the parent cannot possibly understand because he himself has not experienced good parenting.

     Honey Boy represents an honest effort to relate what transpired in Shia LeBeouf’s early life that led to his desperation as a young adult to come to terms with it and work through the consequences. It’s interesting to see elements in the father’s personality that have been transmitted to the son, such that his way of coping resembles his father’s—but only partially.  He gets help (that was likely inaccessible to his father), which appears to get him on track for recovery.  As good as the film is, directed by Alma Har’el, I wish she and LeBeouf had given us more information about the mother.  We only overhear her in phone calls. 

     LeBeouf’s performance as his father has almost an eerie quality to it in its perceptiveness and emotional understanding.  There is nothing like real experience to inform an actor about a role, and nothing like a talented actor capturing a real experience.  Lucas Hedges consistently gets praise for his varied roles, and here he conveys so well the “waking up” of a person beginning to probe his early life and relationships and being horrified at the enormity of the task.  Noah Jupe shows great promise and will surely always be remembered for his graphic portrayal of a young boy trying desperately to understand a parent continually giving him mixed messages.  He manages to show in his face all the turmoil that is going on inside him, and the agony that follows when there seems to be no way out.

Delving into one’s extraordinary past as a child movie star living with an abusive father takes courage and Shia LeBeouf shows he has that courage and willingness to share it with others as catharsis and possibly as a model for others from similar circumstances.

Grade:  B+                                    By Donna R. Copeland

WAVES

Taylor Russell     Kelvin Harrison, Jr.    Alexa Demie

Bill Wise     lucas Hedges     Renee Elise Goldsberry    Sterling K. Brown

     Trey Edward Shults is considered one of the up-and-coming writer-directors whose two previous features (Krisha and It Comes at Night) were well received, the former about a family dealing with one of its mentally disturbed members, and the latter about two families dealing with an alien invasion. Now, with Waves, Shults has chosen to portray family relationships in a middle class black family trying its best to achieve aspirations primarily defined by the father.  “We cannot afford to be average”, he admonishes his son when he is encouraging him to work harder.

     The story is complex, reflecting Shults’ keen observations of family dynamics in ordinary as well as stressful situations.  

     Ronald (Brown) drives his son hard in his chosen sport of wrestling, coaching and working out with him and playfully competing.  Tyler (Harrison) is a sensitive young man who is attentive to his mother and plays the piano.  But he is also a fierce wrestling competitor with a future, it seems. This will all be made more complicated by his romantic attachment to Alexis (Russell).  When they have a major disagreement about an important decision, she breaks up with him, throwing him for a loop.

     This is not Tyler’s only stress; he has developed a shoulder injury that threatens to end his hopes in wrestling.  The seriousness of the injury is explained to him by the doctor, but Tyler, in the family mode of keeping worries to himself says nothing to his parents.  Neither—interestingly—does the doctor call and talk to them about it.  (It’s unclear in the film whether Tyler is yet 18.)

     And this is a place where I get on my bandstand about filmmakers repeatedly telling stories in which people don’t talk to one another about major events in their lives.  I realize this is not uncommon in real life, but films have a chance to model for their viewers the miraculous effects of open communication.  For instance, the tragedy that takes place in Waves could have been avoided had Tyler discussed what he was going through with his parents.  In the beginning scenes of the film, we have been set up to think that this closely-knit, affectionate family with good communication would have supported him emotionally and helped him in problem solving.  

     In a similar vein, it was unbelievable to me that this particular family would not have discussed birth control with their children.  When even vomiting is graphically portrayed, why would we not hear of birth control discussed with either adolescent in the family? Not much is said in the beginning about Tyler’s sister Emily (Russell), but after the tragedy, she becomes the focus in her relationship with Luke (Hedges).  Their friendship is portrayed as much healthier (although still no evidence of birth control), starkly contrasting with the one between Tyler and Alexis.

     The actors are really fine in this film, some noteworthy for their previous accomplishments.  Sterling K. Brown (most notable for his award-winning performances in the TV series “This is Us” and “American Crime Story”) is convincing as a father wanting his family elevated to their true potential.  Renee Elise Goldsberry (known primarily for her Tony Award winning performance in Broadway’s “Hamilton”) plays the devoted mother and wife who takes loss so hard, she almost loses everything.  Lucas Hedges (nominated for supporting roles in Manchester by the Sea and Ladybird) brings a kind of peace and understanding to the story in his portrayal of a male who is sensitive, kind, and unbiased.  

     The two main characters in the first part of the movie are portrayed by Kelvin Harrison, Jr., and Alexa Demie, with Taylor Russell highlighted in the latter part. All of these actors, who are supposed to be in high school, are 25 years old.  There are enough talented teenagers to play these parts in movies, so I don’t understand why filmmakers consistently cast older actors to play their roles.  When the discrepancy is so obvious, it’s highly distracting.  

     Another distracting (and irritating) element in this film is the assault on the senses with sudden bursts of sound coming from whistles, voices, music, horns, and the quick cuts between scenes that have nothing to do with one another. Cinematographer Drew Daniels has inserted beautiful pure color scenes that enhance the mood of the film. These should be the guiding light for the editors (Isaac Hagy and Shults himself) in future endeavors.

     Like many interested others, I will be following Trey Edward Shults in his future endeavors.

A gripping drama that highlights a black family’s struggle to achieve their aspirations.

Grade:  B                                    By Donna R. Copeland

BEN IS BACK

Julia Roberts     Lucas Hedges     Courtney B. Vance     Kathryn Newton     Alexandra Park

     As can be seen in the trailer, Ben (Hedges) pays a surprise visit to his family at Christmastime, making everyone nervous.  His mother Holly (Roberts) is thrilled to have him and assumes an air of optimism, whereas his younger sister Ivy (Newton) and stepfather Neal (Vance) are wary.  The two younger children are the only ones greeting him with glee devoid of concern.  Because for all her optimism, Holly still proceeds to stow away drugs from the medicine cabinet and jewelry items, prompting quizzical looks and comments from her daughter. Ben has been in rehab for an addiction, but reports his sponsor gave him permission to leave.  

     What follows is 24 hours packed with emotional upheaval, distress, many questions and conflicts, and a sprinkling of happiness.  I get the impression that the film offers a realistic look at what families go through when their child(ren) develop a drug addiction.  The agonizing question revolves around trust: When do you trust them and when do you not?  How do you tell when they are telling the truth and when they are lying?  How closely do you observe their every move?  

     It gets even more complicated when the addict’s intentions are noble, but he puts himself and his family at risk.  It never occurs to Ben that a simple shopping trip to get presents for his younger sibs would prompt a string of events.  (He can’t just put his name on presents his mother has already bought; that wouldn’t be honest—honesty is a primary goal in rehab.)  Nor does it occur to him at first, or to his family, that there are extended “side effects” to his addiction, i.e., people in town who want revenge for what he did in the past.  Like many addicts, he had to support his habit by dealing.

     Writer/Director Peter Hedges knows exactly how to bring the viewer along on the experience of an addict’s family visit, by keeping you guessing about the same things family members are questioning, especially when family members themselves are not always telling the truth.  I had to smile at the number of times a family member takes off on his/her own refusing offers of help from someone else.  At one point, Neal says to his wife, “We’re supposed to be a team!”  But she’s afraid he will deal with the problem in a way she disagrees with, so she acts as if everything is under control.  Yes, it gets so complicated.

The plot is engaging, one cares about the family from the start, and there are many clenched-teeth moments.  

     This is a film that may frighten you and depress you, but it is worth the strain in that it is informative about a problem that is currently plaguing our country in an epidemic.  Like the story in Boy Erased, it demonstrates that even in upper middle class prosperous families addiction can be their undoing.  It’s no longer just the poor and disadvantaged who have these battles to fight.  Watching moves like these are not only drama and thrillers, they are informative and helpful to those who may be going through the same things now, in the past, or in the future.  I appreciate that in Boy Erased, it is the father who takes the predominant role in helping his son and that it is the mother who takes that role in Ben is Back.  Both are good models, and both make clear that unconscious forces sometimes make them less than effective.

     Lucas Hedges (son of Peter Hedges) has much to boast about for his role in this film as well as recent others: Three Billboards Outside Ebbing Missouri, Lady Bird, and Manchester by the Sea.  They all illustrate his acting range and quality of performance.  Here, he achieves a realistic mother/son connection with the acclaimed and experienced Julia Roberts, who can look beatific in gazing at her children, adopt a charming but genuine response to friends, and burst out with fury and determination in the face of dispute and conflict.  It’s a delight to watch her cast her spell on dozens of diverse roles.  

     Ben is Back is not a movie for everyone, but is for those who have social sensitivities and curiosity about the world around them.

One day in the life of a family blessed(?) with a surprise visit from one of their own.

Grade:  B+                                    By Donna R. Copeland

BOY ERASED

Lucas Hedges     Nicole Kidman     Russell Crowe     Joel Edgerton

     Joel Edgerton is someone in the film world to pay attention to.  The Australian is well known to Americans for his acting in Loving, The Great Gatsby, and Black Mass, and as well for his writing/directing/producing talent in The Gift.  Now, he comes out with an award-worthy production informing us about conversion therapy, based on a memoir by Garrard Conley about his real-life experience.  Edgerton impresses us with his talent for telling a story with elements of experience and perspective from multiple points of view.  By the end of this movie, we have a real sense of the individual, family, religious community, and programmatic aims and aspirations of the participants.

     Lucas Hedges as Jared Eamons lives up to his promise as an actor who can play complex characters with subtlety and poignancy.  Here, he is a budding college student who is curious about the world, is compassionate and sincere, loves his parents, and wants to please them.  You see him naively trying to follow the script written for him in love, marriage, and career, primarily by his father, a pastor, and secondarily by his mother who goes along with her husband most of the time.  The beauty of the film is in its focus on Jared’s discoveries and transitions he must make on his own journey.  

     Boy Erased does just as well in depicting what a program in conversion therapy involves, which, to me, is essentially a brainwashing process.  Participants are coerced into revealing their innermost secrets and actions, which are labeled as sins, and then they are shamed and manipulated to behave in ways their “trainers” envision is “right.”  

     Nicole Kidman and Russell Crowe as Jared’s parents exquisitely capture the essence of shock and anguish so many sincere, loving families undergo when they’re not prepared for the news and have been taught that homosexuality is vile and a sin.  These parents, like so many others, are not prepared for the paradox they must face: the child they know and love does not sync with their fundamental beliefs of what is good and honorable.

     Of course, Edgerton nails Victor Sykes, the head of the conversion program—part suave salesman, part corporate chief, and part pseudo-therapist—primarily interested in his investment.  He gives out clues about himself that are born out over time, another example of Edgerton’s skill.

     Music by the team Danny Bansi and Saunder Jurriaans plays a significant role in enhancing the dramatic ups and downs of this important film that is difficult to watch at times.  But sticking with it pays off.

A look at conversion therapy and a family’s experience of it.

Grade:  A                                              By Donna R. Copeland

MID90s

Sunny Suljic     Lucas Hedges     Katherine Waterston     Na-Kel Smith

Gio Galicia     Olan Prenatt     Ryder McLaughlin

     Stevie (aptly played by Suljic) is a kid you immediately feel sorry for, and that’s often how the other characters in the film relate to him.  And he really needs it in order to escape a bully brother at home and to fit in with a rough group of street kids.  This quality gives him entry into the group in the beginning, but ultimately it’s his fearlessness that wins him respect.  He’s smaller than the other kids and desperately practices to ride a skateboard, the tie that holds the group together.  

     It’s a colorful group, most with nicknames, and it’s Ruben (Galicia) who first helps Stevie into the circle with unhelpful (wrong) advice and an order for Stevie to bring him $40 for a skateboard he wants to sell.  We soon meet the one calling himself Fuckshit (Prenatt)—or he got that name from saying the word repeatedly, followed by “That’s dope.”   There’s the one the group regards as rather dim, so he gets the nickname Fourth Grade (McLaughlin), but he does hope to make a film one day, so his camera is a steady companion.  The standout—and the only one with good sense and aspirations—is African-American Ray (Smith), who is working hard at becoming a pro skateboarder.  He can break up fights, show empathy and understanding, and serve as a role model, which largely passes over the others, but is a kind of salvation for Stevie.  

     Jonah Hill, the writer/director, wants to depict life in the 90’s in L.A. when he was growing up.  He captures this seemingly very well (it wasn’t my world, so I can’t really judge), and perhaps wrote the Stevie character from his own experience of making efforts to fit in with a group.  (I’m inferring this from his bio in which he contrasts himself with Brad Pitt.)  The composers Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross augment the 90’s feel with their music drawn from or based on that period, although I found it to be too heavy-handed at times, particularly when other sound effects were combined with the music.

     For me, Mid90s has an unfinished quality; the strains of each character are incompletely told.  We hear a bit about their home life and who they are, but not enough to get a firm picture.  For instance, we’re told about Ruben’s parents abusing him and his sister, and similar “one-shot” descriptions for others, but are told essentially nothing about Ray who, with Stevie, was the most potentially interesting.  The characters played by Lucas Hedges and Katherine Waterston are sadly lacking in description and in action.  Their roles should have been greatly expanded for us to understand their behaviors.  Both actors are greatly underutilized, which is a shame, considering their talent.

     I don’t know if Jonah Hill intended to paint such a bleak picture of kids in the ‘90s in L.A., but    I found this depiction very sad, with kids trying to make their way with little guidance from family or school.  When Stevie’s mother says, “We used to talk!”, wanting to know more about Stevie’s new-found friends, I could empathize completely. There is little here to inspire; what’s missing is any kind of moral or insight to bring the story home and give it meaning.

A boy without much of a family makes one with skateboarders on the street.

Grade:  C                                    By Donna R. Copeland

THREE BILLBOARDS OUTSIDE EBBING, MISSOURI

Frances McDormand     Woody Harrelson     Sam Rockwell     Lucas Hedges     Peter Dinklage     John Hawkes

     The wistful opening song (“The Last Rose of Summer”) previews the emotional tone underpinning this story, even though comedy and drama emerge time and again throughout.  Seven months before, Mildred’s (McDormand) teenage daughter was raped and killed, and as time goes on and no arrests are made, Mildred—never one to shrink from conflict—starts to agitate for more action from the police, specifically Sheriff Willoughby (Harrelson).  He responds to her respectfully, explaining why, and he sounds reasonable; but Mildred is not to be mollified.  To make her case a public issue, she buys space on three billboards outside of town to post this message:  “Raped while dying.  And still no arrests.  How come, Chief Willoughby?” 

     With this action, writer/director Martin McDonagh (In Bruges, Seven Psychopaths) gives us a window into Smalltown, USA, and how politics often work there.  And this is one where the Chief of Police is really conscientious, a mensch.  Not so much one of his officers, Jason Dixon (Rockwell), who has a huge chip on his shoulder, is unapologetic about his racist views, and has no trouble bending the law to suit himself.  Sheriff Willoughby has a challenge in mentoring him in his wish to become a detective. 

     When Mildred singles Willoughby out for her rage, she riles up most of the town folk who are already feeling sympathy for him because word has gotten out that he has cancer.  Some of the truths McDormand is illustrating is that the general public’s memory is short (seven months has made them “forget” the murder); few understand the depth of grief following the loss of a child (the very worst thing to happen to people and something that keeps going on across time), particularly when guilt is involved; and still the genuine caring and protectiveness seen when some in the community understand the issues and act accordingly.  McDonagh shows all these complexities with sensitivity and an even hand. 

     How does an Irishman get to know this?  McDonagh talks about taking bus rides around the U.S., visiting small towns, and acquainting himself with the people who lived there (Interview on Charlie Rose, 11/9/17 on PBS).  He saw a billboard in one place that first stimulated his thoughts about making this film.  In addition, McDonagh brings his own sensibilities to his dramas; in this case, showing characters in such depth, we see their strengths and weaknesses in equal measure.  And he goes further in showing redemptive experiences, where his characters actually acquire some insight and valiantly try to make positive changes. 

     McDonagh chose his cast carefully and well.  From the beginning, he knew he wanted McDormand, Harrelson, and Rockwell; and do they all shine.  McDormand is a shoo-in for award nominations for her performance here (previous wins have been an Oscar for Fargo, a Golden Globe for Olive Kitteridge, and Independent Spirit Awards for Friends with Money and Fargo), and her work has been consistently top-notch.  Rockwell deserves supporting role awards for his Dixon, whom he manages to make you hate in the beginning, and then have some sympathy for when he at least partially redeems himself.  Harrelson may not be considered for an award this year for this film, but he lends his expert rendition of a character with good judgment for whom we have great sympathy.  He, McDormand, and     Rockwell are all good for the high comedic moments as well as the drama in this film.

     McDonagh’s collaborators in music (Carter Burwell) and cinematography (Ben Davis) help make this film the artistic triumph it is.

A film likely to be on the award circuit when the time comes.

Grade:  A                                    By Donna R. Copeland

LADY BIRD

Saoirse Ronan     Laurie Metcalf     Odeya Rush     Beanie Feldstein     
Lucas Hedges     Timothee Chalamet     Tracy Letts

     There is always a challenge for comedies to have substance as well as humor, and writer/director Greta Gerwig has achieved just such a balance in Lady Bird.  Comedy runs throughout, but underlying it are observations about mother-daughter relationships, adolescence, male-female relationships, friendships, truthfulness, religion, and economic hardship, all presented naturalistically and with precise timing.  The characters speak as real people expressing themselves, as opposed to a series of comedy routines.

     Young Christine (Ronan), who has adopted the name of “Lady Bird”, is in the throes of first loves, struggling to make good grades in high school so that she can go to a “good” college and get out of Sacramento, and slogging through multiple applications to college.  Interestingly, she has more faith in herself than does anyone around her.  And true, she has committed some infractions and does not always have the self-discipline she needs, but she is reasonably smart and knows what she wants—to break out of living on the wrong side of the tracks and all that implies.  She is not unsympathetic to her parents’ economic problems, it’s just that she is optimistic about being able to do better.

     Her mother Jenna (Rush) has no such high hopes; she is a practical, organized woman who is appalled about things like a messy room and disrespectful behavior, but is sorely lacking in emotional responsiveness and psychological insight, although she does appear to be some kind of counselor in her job.  She doesn’t have enough empathy to see how similar she and her daughter are.  Fortunately for both mother and daughter, the father (Letts) acts in a positive way as mediator.  And fortunately for both, they always manage to maintain some degree of understanding and love for each other.

     Then there is Lady Bird’s life with her friends at school, where there’s a bit of a caste system between those who live on right and wrong sides of the track.  She and her very best friend (super bright but overweight and perhaps not as creative as Christine) Julie (Feldstein), are tight and have great fun together until Lady Bird begins to branch out and think she can be on the “right side of the tracks” if she manipulates situations.  She is attracted to a fellow Thespian, Danny (Hedges), and when that doesn’t turn out, she goes for Kyle (Chalamet), and it’s interesting to observe her exploring different ways of being in her romantic relationships and in different social classes. 

     This well written story has a beginning, middle, and very satisfying end.  The acting is superb, starting with Saoirse Ronan in a different role from her usual that highlights her considerable talent.  Odeya Rush and Trace Letts as Christine’s parents are skilled actors whose strengths are readily  evident in their very different relationships with their daughter.  I found Beanie Feldstein’s performance as Christine’s best friend right on, and I appreciated its truth about very bright, chubby girls not getting the recognition from society that they deserve.  The two young men, Lucas Hedges and Timothee Chalamet, who play Christine’s boyfriends, live up to their promising reputations for achieving their potential as actors.

     In addition to the quality of writing, directing, and acting, Jori Brion’s music aptly evokes the period in which the movie takes place, the 1990’s (e.g., The Monkees, The Doors), in expressing the mood of each scene.

An award-worthy production that marks the accomplishment of its writer-director, Greta Gerwig.

Grade:  A                                    By Donna R. Copeland

MANCHESTER BY THE SEA

Casey Affleck     Kyle Chandler     Michelle Williams     Lucas Hedges     Gretchen Mol

          Kenneth Lonergan (You Can Count on Me) is a master of film, as so brilliantly displayed here by script and direction, acting (Affleck, Hedges, Williams), cinematography (Jody Lee Lipes), editing (Jennifer Lame), and a soundtrack perfectly apt for every scene (Lesley Barber).  The movie unfolds organically, tracing the history of the acutely sensitive but emotionally closed off Lee Chandler (Affleck).  It’s not clear in the beginning, but when we get the full story of this man’s adult life, we feel like we know him—not so much by what he says and doesn’t say as what we learn of what he has gone through and the reactions to  

him of those around him.

           The man is already carrying around a huge burden, and although the family has been warned, his brother’s death is naturally shocking.  More shocking to Lee is that he is to be his nephew’s guardian, a role for which he is completely unprepared emotionally, but there is another issue.  He left Manchester under a cloud and doesn’t want to return; but his nephew Patrick (Hedges) is still in high school and understandably doesn’t want to move away to Lee’s town.  How this dilemma is resolved attests to Lonergan’s skill in honing in on real people and how they react to and solve problems; this is not a fairy tale.

        The film is an exquisite portrayal of a traumatized man trying to connect with other people, whether they are strangers, current associates, or from his past.  The boisterous, demonstrative scenes of him with his wife and children before the trauma are in stark contrast to his current way of relating, e.g., it took days and days before he could give his nephew a hug.  We see the absolutely torturous condition of someone not being able to confide in anyone else.  Lonergan gives us a picture of a man not only traumatized, but filled with guilt.  Once we get this full picture, the way in which he resolves his dilemma is completely understandable.  Without this understanding, we might judge him differently.

        Casey Affleck is clearly in the news about his performance here, and it is well deserved.  He must inhabit a character who shows little or no emotion, but conveys so much nonverbally to show us the deep rivers of emotion rushing through him.  Lee has erected defenses so strong, that certain provocations will bring a torrent of action, yet others who are more gentle will leave him unmoved outwardly with a sea of turmoil beneath.  Lucas Hedges and Michelle Williams give fine supporting performances opposite Affleck, both reacting explosively to him but in different ways.  I was struck by Hedges’ portrayal of a teenager who in some ways is more mature than the adult in charge of him.

            Barber and Lipes provide music and cinematography that pair together inspiringly to convey the mood and temper of every scene.  The opening views of a serene, picturesque seaside in the beginning contrasts with what we will see later in the, sometimes ugly, events that will ensue.  Barber’s music will enhance whatever the scene is. 

Understanding can be both a ravishing and a melancholy experience.

Grade:  A                                                By Donna R. Copeland