Moonlight shows us what it’s like to spend a life in hiding
There’s a lot to recommend about Moonlight, mostly in the complexities that it’s able to portray on screen.
Here’s what’s wrong with awards season. Every year, we’re asked to view a certain group of movies and compare them to each other to work out which one’s the best. We’re asked to do this because of the Golden Globes and because of the Oscars and because of all the fuss everyone makes around which films are going to walk away with the prizes. But it’s not a helpful way to look at cinema. There’s no easy comparison between La La Land and Arrival, or Hacksaw Ridge and Manchester By The Sea. Every movie in the running for these statues is different and worthwhile in individual ways, and that’s a rather roundabout way of saying there’s nothing quite like Moonlight that has been nominated for any of these awards this year.
In fact, there’s almost nothing quite like Moonlight full stop. The easiest comparison might be to Richard Linklater’s Boyhood, considering that both films follow somebody throughout their life over many years, but even that doesn’t really hold up as all that similar. What makes Moonlight so special is all in its specificity. This is a singular vision. It’s a story of one boy’s journey into adulthood and how he’s been shaped by his experiences. It’s structured in three parts, but each of those parts is a highly distinct story rather than an overarching tale. Seeing this boy as a teenager isn’t the story of his teenage years or even that particular teenage year, but it is one important part of his overall life. The same is true of the other two parts of this triptych.
We follow Chiron (played by Alex Hibbert, Ashton Sanders and Trevante Rhodes across the three chapters we see in the character’s life) and see how his experiences being bullied as a child for something he hasn’t even recognised in himself leads to him discovering more about his sexuality as a gay man. But, over time he retreats into himself and hides, using his masculinity as a shield because of the shame and oppression that he’s seen in his life.
His story is not only shaped by his experience as somebody who is gay, but also as somebody who is black and from a poor background. While this movie is specific to this character and this area of Miami that he’s growing up in, director Barry Jenkins is has made it clear that “in that specificity there’s something universal, but also there’s a statement on the black experience”. This story is simultaneously one that is about this character and this character alone, and one that has elements that paint a picture of both what it to be a man and what it is to be somebody who doesn’t fit in.
Drugs and addiction occupy a central role in each of the three chapters, with devastating consequences for Chiron. Central to his childhood are his experience with drug dealer Juan (Oscar contender Mahershala Ali) and his girlfriend Teresa (Janelle Monae) as Chiron gravitates towards them because his drug-addicted mother Paula (Naomie Harris) is unable to adequately care for him.
In one of the film’s most powerful scenes, Juan is able to help Chiron understand why people might be calling him a “faggot” and that it’s a derogatory term to make gay people feel lesser, but his ability to help the child doesn’t really change the fact that he’s selling the same drugs Chiron’s mother is hooked on.
As the film moves on, we see that the bullying associated with Chiron’s sexuality follows him through school even if it’s not something he’s accepted in himself yet. When he is able to understand his feelings, a devastating setback causes him to retreat further. So, when we catch up with him as an adult in the third and final part of the film we see how he has grown physically strong and imposing but has also become unable to be vulnerable or emotional out of fear.
The whole final third is a wonderful exploration of what it is to open up and put yourself in an emotionally exposed position. It’s here, as we see Chiron look back and reflect upon his life, that he’s able to gain some clarity about who he is within. It’s a tremendous and moving ending that is subtle too, and played magnificently by Rhodes and André Holland (playing the grown-up version of Kevin, someone who Chiron knew and was close to when he was at school).
There’s a lot to recommend about Moonlight, mostly in the complexities that it’s able to portray on screen. There are few films that touch on just how much small experiences can have a ripple effect throughout our lives and come to define us, and this film just understands that completely. It’s also an emotional powerhouse bolstered by an amazing score, gorgeous cinematography, and a cast full of outstanding performances (if there’s an award for best ensemble cast, this is what should win it).
Moonlight explores the limitations of gender roles, how hyper-masculinity can ruin our ability to feel and relate to others, and the sheer tragedy of a life spent hiding from who you are out of fear for what others may think. And it’s about all of those things while simply being about Chiron and being the specific story of moments in his life. Because of that, even with the hardship, there’s something positive, or at least bittersweet, about what this film is saying about our potential to discover, and rediscover, ourselves.
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