Film Review: Brooklyn (2015)

© Fox Searchlight Pictures | Source: FilmSchoolRejects

Ireland, UK, Canada; 111 min.; drama, romance, coming-of-age

Director: John Crowley

Writing: Nick Hornby; based on the novel of the same name by Colm Tóibín

Cinematography: Yves Bélanger

Cast: Saoirse Ronan, Emory Cohen, Domhnall Gleeson,  Fiona Glascott, Jane Brennan, Brid Brennan, Eileen O'Higgins, Jim Broadbent, Julie Walters

“I wish that I could stop feeling that I want to be an Irish girl in Ireland.” – Eilis Lacey

Financial crises, Cold War politics, a Mars expedition gone wrong, child molestation, sex slaves and the animalistic side of human nature – this year’s Oscars Best Picture contenders deal with a rather grim subject matter. Amidst all this dark and heavy fare (oh, I forgot, The Martian is actually a comedy...), one film might appear like the odd one out. But don’t get me wrong. John Crowley’s filmic adaptation of the critically acclaimed novel Brooklyn by Irish author Colm Tóibín may come across as a more light-hearted, small-scale entry, but it’s every bit as engaging and important as the ‘big’ pictures crowding last year’s Top 10 lists.

In 1952, Eilis (Saoirse Ronan), a young girl from a small town in Ireland, migrates to Brooklyn, New York, to find a better job and better educational opportunities. She leaves behind her mother (Jane Brennan) and her beloved sister Rose (Fiona Glascott), feeling terribly homesick for the first weeks of her new life abroad. When she meets young Italian plumber Tony (Emory Cohen) and the two fall in love, Eilis finally begins to feel as if she has arrived in the USA. However, a sad stroke of fate requires her to travel back to Ireland where she finds that her prospects have changed. Will a promising job opportunity and the attentions of handsome fellow Irishman Jim (Domhnall Gleeson) draw Eilis back into her old life, or will she follow the call of the American dream?

In Brooklyn, there aren’t any big explosions à la Mad Max: Fury Road, no CGI fests like in The Revenant, no grand political themes or crimes to uncover. Brooklyn is the tale of a young woman trying to find her way in the world. While doing so, she’s facing all kinds of relatable struggles and emotions: there’s grief for home and the ones she holds dear, love, temptation and the striving for self-reliance and empowerment. What makes it so easy to follow this journey is, firstly, that Eilis is an instantly likeable character. She’s decent and reserved, yet incredibly witty and, once she knows what she wants, determined to follow her goals. Secondly, actress Saoirse Ronan plays her with tremendous dedication, embracing all the complex aspects of the character, from sadness to humour, vulnerability to inner strength and foolishness to smartness.

As a period piece, Brooklyn shines with its beautiful set and costume design. Not only do the locations and clothes bring to life an era gone by, they also help to characterise the difference between urban New York and rural small-town Ireland. Additionally, they bring out Eilis’ different ways of life in either of those spots. While, in the beginning, her wardrobe features mostly muted colours and simple cuts, her life in the US has her embrace the latest fashion, with her sporting playful blouses and sunglasses.

What is also refreshing to see is that, despite the 1950s setting, for once, gender isn’t too much of a focus. There are occasional allusions to how pre-marital sex should be prevented and how marrying rich would be a spiffy thing to do, but, despite these things, Eilis’ journey isn’t a mere fight against gender bias. Her independence feels natural. Men and women alike respect her for her efforts and intelligence, and find her to be a talented book keeper. While many period dramas with a female lead tend to focus on the women’s struggle against patriarchal structures, in Brooklyn, Eilis’ status is a given. The film endows her with more complex layers regarding fears and motivations than the usual aim to break the glass ceiling.

One of the most appealing aspects of the film is to watch the relationship between Eilis and Tony form and deepen. Actor Emory Cohen brings a wonderfully Brando-esque quality with a good squeeze of James Dean to his Tony. There’s a classic charm to him, a dreaminess and innocence that’s rare in today’s romantic genre. His character could have easily been a mere plot device, but his performance and chemistry with Ronan contribute to establishing one of the sweetest on-screen romances of the past year. It’s also nice to have their romantic dynamics evade stereotypes, with him being the head-over-heels, in looooove guy and her the reasonable, reserved other half.

The second part of the film, Eilis’ return to Ireland, is not as engaging as the first in which she has to deal with homesickness and her newfound love. If I should find a fault in Brooklyn, even if it’s just a minor one, it’s that Eilis’ coming-of-age moment near the end appears rather suddenly. Her stay in Ireland is meant to show how her home attachment could eventually overthrow her life in Brooklyn after all, but, from a narrative perspective, I find her experiences in the US to be much more vibrant and engaging. While Domhnall Gleeson gives a lovely performance as Eilis’ shy and quiet Irish love interest, I never really believed that going back to Ireland could actually have been a plausible option for Eilis. I guess a bit more time and effort could have gone into fleshing out her affection for Ireland in order to make her conflict of choosing between Brooklyn and Ireland more apparent.

In Brooklyn, we find beautifully drawn out characters and especially a strong and likeable female lead. Then there’s also a motivated young cast (with memorable supporting stints by Jim Broadbent and especially Julie Walters, no less) and a gripping tale of finding one’s own way in life. The film evokes old-school Hollywood charm with ease, and allows for 111 minutes of delightful escapism. In a Best Picture race that is dominated by movies handling universal conflicts and grand themes, it’s good to know that there’s still room for smaller, more intimate stories to be told.

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Film Review: Lost River (2014)

© Warner Bros. | Source: sky.com

USA; 95 min.; drama, mystery

Director: Ryan Gosling

Writing: Ryan Gosling

Cinematography: Benoît Debie

Cast: Christina Hendricks, Iain De Caestecker, Saoirse Ronan, Matt Smith, Reda Kateb, Barbara Steele, Torrey Wigfield, Ben Mendelsohn, Eva Mendes 

The wolves, if they're not already at your door, they're gonna be there very fucking soon.” – Dave 

Ryan Gosling has always been a sort of spirit animal for the BSP crew since, obviously, there's much to be admired. Not only is he an actor who has proven multiple times that he can bring characters of all dispositions and genres to life. No, he's also a producer, musician and, as of late, a screenwriter and film maker. His directorial debut Lost River premiered at the Cannes Film Festival in 2014 to rather unfavourable reviews. I, however, do not see the need to advertise for a new BSP spirit animal. In fact, Lost River, despite all the negative buzz, genuinely impressed me, further proving that Gosling will continue to increase his influence on the movie industry.

But let's talk plot first: In her struggle to keep her family afloat, single mum Billy (Christina Hendricks) encounters the shady banker Dave (Ben Mendelsohn) who offers her a job at Cat's (Eva Mendes) bizarre burlesque club. In the meantime, Billy's teenage son Bones (Iain De Caestecker) and his friend Rat (Saoirse Ronan) have to deal with the violent outbursts of the town bully, aptly named Bully (Matt Smith). That's the story in a nutshell for you.

I admit, the film is difficult to access if you head into it expecting a conventional narrative, a plot-driven piece or a kind of character study. Gosling certainly values style over substance. Here, the stars are neither the characters nor the story, but the mood. Shots of abandoned, rundown buildings, overgrown areas and mysterious lakescapes evoke an all-engrossing atmosphere of loneliness and hopelessness. Trapped in a setting overtaken by natural forces and decay, the characters find themselves without any prospects – and yet they cling to their surroundings, to their memories of times and places gone by. The use of neon lights and a sometimes beautifully melodic, sometimes upbeat electronic score by Johnny Jewel give Lost River a haunting, dream-like quality. The visuals stayed with me long after the film was over.

The characters aren't as memorable, due to a lack of depth. Their relationships with each other are broken down to basic emotions of love, hate and responsibility. On the one hand, this gives them an everyman quality, making it easy for viewers to connect with their emotions and struggles. On the other hand, it doesn't make them all that interesting. Fortunately, Gosling gathered a talented cast capable of making the most of their respective roles, despite the absence of fleshed-out character profiles. Especially former Dr. Who Matt Smith, who's usually cast as the cheeky nice guy, has the opportunity to shine as a vicious brute. His Bully is menacing, lulling his victims into a false sense of security only to strike them twice as hard.

I enjoy how Gosling embraces a very postmodern approach to his material. The influence of David Lynch and Nicolas Winding Refn, two directors I hugely admire, is omnipresent. The scenes in Cat's nightclub seem like a prolonged version of the "Llorando" scene from Lynch's masterpiece Mulholland Dr. (2001). Furthermore, Gosling interlaces the moody, beautiful melancholy of his film with snippets of absurdity and relentless violence, reminiscent of Refn films such as Bronson (2008) and Drive (2011). While I appreciate Gosling's efforts to pay homage to these cinematic treasures, there are moments when I find myself looking for his very own thumbprint on the movie. In future projects, I'd love to see him add a bit more personality to his already attractive web of intertextuality.

However, the Canadian has to be applauded for the way in which he manages to raise a number of topics within an only 95-minute time span. Lost River can be regarded as a commentary on nostalgia and how we tend to burden ourselves with idealisations of the past when, really, we should be looking towards the possibilities that lie ahead of us. It explores the connection between violence in fiction and real-life brutality. It sheds light on our understanding of entertainment, and – on another postmodern note – challenges our perception of what is real and what is only make-believe. These themes, however, are never force-fed to the viewer. They vanish, re-appear throughout the film and linger in the background again. They're subtle and yet strong enough to endow the film with an intriguing complexity and food for thought.

Lost River isn't a crowd pleaser. Only viewers who are willing to put visual power, cinematic intertextuality and a broad range of underlying subject matter over complex plot structures and characters will find pleasure in Gosling's first feature film. It's Lynch-ian, absurd, dark and brutal; yet enchantingly beautiful and delightfully mysterious. Call it artsy-fartsy if you must, but I revelled in its atmosphere and engaging music. While it heavily relies on looks, I don't find it to be merely an empty, pretty shell. For me, Gosling has shown that he harbours the spirit of an up and coming director, and has thus rightfully secured his position as BSP spirit animal. So yes, the job's taken. Please refrain from sending your applications.

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