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| Images Courtesy of Fox Searchlight Pictures |
America consumes its legends. The fuselage of politics
and media exposure are the cutlery, while national tragedies are the main
course, with the blood and camera lights dripping from the chin of insatiable
public opinion. Pablo Larrain's daring, borderline terrifying examination of
Jackie Kennedy in the aftermath of her husband's assassination is a fairy tale
biopic that abandons any sense of tradition in favor of focusing on the concept
of bereavement as an inconvenience to the patriotic machine and the unsung
defiance of a woman forced to reinterpret her existence in the face of the
unthinkable.
Natalie Portman becomes her subject, shredding the First
Lady veneer to expose the ugliness of circumstance. Her embodiment of Jackie,
of a woman whose entire existence was undone with a bullet, is both brutal and
demure, balancing the warm embrace of depression with the repressed rage of
gender expectations. Poise and conviction are her weapons, filling every
sequence with subtle devastation and reluctant resilience. Within instants of
the fatal shot, Portman's Jackie is relegated to an inconvenient specter,
walking the halls of the future White House, with her ethereal presence
carrying the film through the spectacle of the final act. The deft manner in
which Portman glides between cataclysmic psychological horror and rebellious self-realization
is unparalleled in this year's lead actress performances.
Stephane Fontaine's cinematography captures the
conflicting nature that flows through the veins of Jackie by using a
variety of lighting and sharp angles to offset the personal torment with the
grandeur seen by the public. The moments of public knowledge, such as the
exquisitely recreated funeral procession, use bright reds and warm blacks in
combination to both respect the melancholy underpinnings and explore the inside
of a national tragedy. It is the moments in between, however, the quiet and
eerie happenings within Jackie's solitary hell, that are the most memorable.
Jean Rabase's magnificent art direction turns the fabled White House into a
haunted Camelot, with Jackie holding a lonely court amidst smoke filled
chambers, adorned in immaculate costuming by Madelaine Fontaine. Soft pinks
highlight bloodstains and bruised skin, pulling the raw emotional upheaval into
the focus, locking the viewer into Jackie's tumultuous dirge.
Mica Levi's score is a living entity, the shadow of
history that is behind Jackie wherever she treads. Filled with ominous
crescendos and sharp tonal misdirection to signify the fleeting dream of
America that has become a nightmare. Noah Oppenheimer's script has garnered
some controversy for its treatment of the Johnson's and Jackie's reactions to
them, but when taken in the context of the situation, the acts as displayed are
organic companions to the film's core mechanic of a woman being systemically undone
and this is what elevates Jackie to the upper echelons of 2016 cinema.
The free world will always need a leader, and the second JFK stopped breathing,
Jackie's entire universe, both her porcelain public persona and her briskly
resigned private life began to evaporate. The conflict over the funeral serves
as a means for Jackie to commit a final act of patriotic maternity that
ultimately became the nation's first steps towards recovery.
In theaters now, Jackie is a singular ballad of pain. A unique offering in the biopic genre that weaves threads of horror and hope into the Chanel armor of its champion, this is a one of kind offering of poetic deconstruction. Featuring one of the best performances of the year, astounding technical craft, and an unforgettable score, if you are looking for an unabashed look at one of the country's greatest tragedies this is the one.
--Kyle Jonathan