[9.8/10] Growing up is hard enough. Figuring out who you are, figuring out the balance on what’s in the core of your soul and what parts of it you’re willing to share with the world is a difficult endeavor under the best of circumstances. Throw in the difficulties of living in a household of addiction, of a sexual preference that earns you additional scorns, and an already fraught journey becomes a cruel and unforgiving one.
Despite the harshness of these difficulties, Moonlight finds the beauty forged within that crucible, the kindnesses large and small, the transcendent moments and connections, that help a sweet, put upon young boy have something to hold onto as he becomes a man. It is, despite the aesthetic pleasures of its gorgeously shot scenes, at times an ugly, dispiriting film, but ultimately a life-affirming one, centered on the unique challenges of its protagonist, struggling to define himself, and finding his way among the pitfalls and gentler paths of growing up.
It is a lovely (and to my mind, superior) companion piece to Richard Linklater’s Boyhood, another coming of age tale told in pieces with a reserved but introspective bent. Certainly, the circumstances of Chiron and Mason are markedly different. And Moonlight does not share Boyhood’s ambitious ten-year film schedule, instead relying a trio very talented actors who manage to turn three separate performances into one remarkably unified character. But both gain strength and meaning from the contrast of who the young men at the center of these films are at various points in their development, and how they explore what lessons, ideas, modes of being, stick with them or come back later in life, and what falls by the wayside.
It is a film that is both strikingly specific but also universal. Director Barry Jenkins does well to explore the particular hardships of being stuck in the middle of a parent who doesn’t know how to deal with her son’s differences and labors under an addiction and a mentor who accepts those differences, who guides this young man and gives him tools to survive, but who also feeds his mother’s dependency. Moonlight also succeeds in its focus on Chiron’s fraught attraction to his best friend, Kevin, bound up with all the fears and insecurities of teenage affection, with the added challenges of homosexuality and race that deepen the sense of unsteadiness, self-doubt, and betrayal that come with such steps into adulthood. There is a specificity to these threads, a depth and particularity to Chiron’s unique struggle through uncharted waters.
And yet, it is rooted in such recognizable emotions and motivations that the film transcends his individual story at the same time it embraces it. Moonlight explores the perilous effort to define yourself – in relation to, in opposition to, in the shadow of blessings and pain – from the misfit kid who doesn’t know where he belongs, to the troubled teenagers who find comfort but make their choices, to the adult who remakes himself in a loved one’s image. That struggle is an eternal one, one experienced by everyone, even as its given poignant life in one young man’s story.
The most universal, heartening, and at times heartbreaking aspect of Moonlight, however, is that it is also a love story. As much as the core of the film is about Chiron’s development, about the man he would become and the boy he was to get there, the heart of the movie is in the relationship between him and Kevin. In their gentle companionship as children, to their shared vulnerabilities and comfort on the beach in adolescence, to their cautious but tender reunion as adults, Moonlight depicts one of the most complicated, most believable, and most compelling love stories to make its way to celluloid in years. There is a truth in the pair’s few tentative steps, in the hesitant way their romance moves forward and crumbles in turn, and the baggage and lives lived that hang in the background as it’s rebuilt, that gives it a force unmatched.
The shape of that love story is given form by the incredible art direction, editing, and cinematography in the film. At a time when where the two stand in relation to one another is very uncertain, Moonlight lingers on images of Kevin lovingly preparing a meal for Chiron. The warmth of the process, the tactile effort of it, become the focus in a fashion that tells you everything about how Kevin feels without anyone needing to say it. At other point, the camera swirls around, giving you a view of the tumult in this corner of Miami and the man at the center of the orbit. And by the same token, the film’s use of color is outstanding, with crisp blues that stand for the choices confronted Chiron, as outlined by the man who takes him under his wing, often isolating it amid white space or primary colors. There’s a warm naturalism in how the film is shot, where every hue pops and a gentle glow that permeates moments harsh and beautiful.
But all that beauty is in service of what is, unassumingly, a tremendous ensemble film. As the film passes through the years, only Naomie Harris (who gives an incredible performance as Chiron’s mother Paula) appears in all three segments. And despite their comparatively brief appearances, Janelle Monáe and especially Mahershala Ali make big impressions as the early lights in Chiron’s life. But with that lack of continuity, it falls to the tripartite collection of actors who portray Chiron and Kevin at different points in their lives to carry the whole, and each rises to the occasion. There is a unity to these two young men, from youth to adulthood, a cohesiveness to their struggles and their character even as each changes dramatically, that speaks to the overwhelming talents of the actors young and old, and the quality of the writing that support them.
Moonlight is simply a superlative film, one whose merit and impact, I must confess, are hard to capture with the clumsy implements of the written word. It is wide in scope, spanning years and grazing eternal truths, but also focused and succinct on the compelling story of Chiron and committed to providing a glimpse of his inner life. It shows harrowing events in gorgeous ways, and tender moments with artistic care. It is a film about who we are, and who we choose to be, that finds power and beauty in the spaces in between.
