Surprise! In a shocking victory elevated by the biggest gaffe in Oscars history, “Moonlight,” an intimate film about a black man coming to terms with his identity and sexuality, bested the heavily favored Hollywood musical “La La Land.” The win is a triumph for indie films and diverse representation on screen. But beyond crowning “Moonlight” for the significance of its awards show victory, we should recognize that the film’s importance goes beyond anything the Oscars could give it.
“Moonlight” is a heartache of a film, and it’s stunning for the way it lends transformative power to the small moments in life. Chiron’s identity is forged in schoolyard scuffles and swimming lessons, and the episodic nature of his growth supplies every moment in the film with a palpable gravitas. The deep emotional impact of Chiron’s loneliness stems from this arc: the characters are the sum of their experiences, no matter how much they try to start over, and those experiences are largely outside of their control.
The characters that intermittently express love for Chiron enhance the impact of this lack of control by offering a glimpse of the relationships he could have had under alternate circumstances. In the film’s second act, when Chiron professes that “I cry so much sometimes I feel like I’m just gonna turn into drops,” his friend Kevin is empathetic, but the harsh reality of their social atmosphere soon tears them apart.
In terms of movies’ ability to expose structures of racism and injustice, this radical emotionality feels, to me, much more effective than something like “13th.” Viewers can readily find alternative reasons the prison population has spiked than the ones Ava Duvernay’s documentary puts forth, but it’s damn near impossible not to empathize with Chiron’s struggles.
The film’s importance also stems from its portrayal of the fluidity of identity. Everyone in this film is confused, and even the figures who guide Chiron are still figuring themselves out as well. Few films are able to depict their characters not as “good” or “bad” but as troubled humans just as lost as the rest of us, and that’s where “Moonlight” shines. I find it funny that critics are calling “Moonlight” the movie of our time, because its portrait of the ambiguity of identity feels particularly eternal.
Of course, the subject matter is of particular salience to modern times. To have a film centered on a black, gay romance garner such high praise is somewhat astonishing, and director Barry Jenkins handles the material with a nimble hand. His camera pays delicate attention to how characters’ bodies interact with their identities, and moves in and out of focus alongside the characters’ sense of self.
This is all to say: “Moonlight” is radically different than the typical “Oscars” movie, not only in terms of subject matter and diversity but stylistic nuance as well. The film’s ethereal sensitivity is akin to a melancholic Frank Ocean ballad, which is fitting because Ocean skipped the Grammys in defiance of the authority they purportedly hold. It’s somewhat shocking, then, that the Academy rewarded “Moonlight.” The Oscars are notoriously dominated by old, white men, and perhaps the win by “Moonlight” suggests that our cultural gatekeepers might not be as nostalgic and conservative as we thought.
Hopefully, the triumph of “Moonlight” is indicative of future inclusivity at the Oscars, but the film’s success shouldn’t have to be tied to its fate at a self-indulgent awards show anyway. Early on in the film, Juan (Mahershala Ali) tells a young Chiron (Alex R. Hibbert) that “at some point, you got to decide for yourself who you’re going to be. Can’t let nobody make that decision for you.” The same can be said of the film itself: “Moonlight” is a triumph on its own terms and should be treated as such. So if anything comes of the movie’s win, don’t let it be an empty Facebook status. Instead seek out this movie, if you haven’t already, and marvel at it for the cinematic achievement it is.
