Jackie

Release Date: December 2nd, 2016
Running Time: 100 minutes
Directed by: Pablo Larraín
Written by: Noah Oppenheim
Starring: Natalie Portman, Billy Crudup, Peter Sarsgaard, Greta Gerwig, John Hurt, Richard E. Grant, John Carroll Lynch, Caspar Phillipson

Jackie tells the well-covered story of U.S. President John F. Kennedy’s assassination from a fresh perspective: through the eyes of First Lady Jacqueline Kennedy, as played by Natalie Portman. The narrative focuses on Jackie in mourning as she navigates her way through post-JFK-assassination logistical details; procedures surrounding the autopsy, funeral arrangements, press dealings, LBJ's swearing in as president, and Jackie's move out of the White House. Slow-paced and solemn, the film examines Jackie's spiritual yearning, existential reflection, and emotional turmoil, to sometimes fascinating effect.

The present timeline begins a week after the assassination, when things have already started to grow quiet. Despite having been instructed by most to stay out of the press, Jackie calls a journalist (Billy Crudup) to her house to conduct an interview and write a story honouring her husband and his legacy. And so the narrative is formed by way of Jackie talking to the journalist, interspersed with flashbacks of her with JFK throughout his presidency and of the events of the previous week. The assassination is eventually recreated in one such flashback sequence, with graphic detail and incredible accuracy (according to how we've seen it in the famous Zapruder film).

In the foreground is Portman's Jackie, 34-years-old at the time of her husband's death, who spends most of the film's 100 minutes in a traumatized, spellbound, melancholy state. Perpetually teary-eyed, she wanders around drinking and smoking, taking a variety of pills, and occasionally behaving in obstinate ways. Her brooding and erratic behaviour is of course forgivable since she just saw her husband, the father of her two children, the President of the United States, have his brains blown out all over her. In an eerie shower scene, a bawling Jackie washes her husband's flesh and blood out of her hair. These are not ordinary circumstances for a person to endure. But the film continuously hammers us with its depiction of the grieving, glamorous Jackie Kennedy. The focus on Jackie's PTSD and addictive behaviour grows wearisome, approaching overemphasis that actually lessens the impact. Drawn-out and sluggish, it gets to be a bit much by midway through the movie.

The story centers around Jackie's insistence on having a large, televised, public funeral procession and ceremony, and the controversy surrounding this as the Secret Service, FBI, and other political officials recommend against it. In the background is Lee Harvey Oswald's arrest and subsequent killing by Jack Ruby, but that's not given much attention here, nor are any conspiracy theories, or even much political discourse in general. Instead Jackie focuses on trying to portray Jackie as a kind of unsung heroine, a dignified and gracious personality in an immensely difficult set of circumstances.  

Natalie Portman's characterization of the widowed Jackie Kennedy is impressive but not flawless; on one hand it's a delicate, restrained performance that succeeds in portraying quiet dignity while not relying on excessive sentimentality. On the other hand, Portman interprets some of Jackie's qualities inconsistently, particularly her manner of speech which is sometimes mild and unassuming and other times resonates with a thick New York/New England accent that occasionally approaches Betty Boop-like cadences. But this story takes place in 1963—not 1933—so it seems she perhaps overdoes it a bit with the vocal stylings at times.

Still, I've long marvelled at the challenges of biographical feature films. The actor must do a convincing impersonation of the celebrity subject and then concurrently give a believable dramatic performance for the movie to be successful. Val Kilmer as Jim Morrison in The Doors (1991) comes to mind as having balanced these ingredients effectively. On the other hand, Will Smith as Muhammad Ali in Ali (2001) mimicked the boxer's voice and mannerisms well but was less convincing with the dramatic acting aspect, resulting in a caricature more than a sophisticated representation. But Portman is stronger on the drama part here wherein the impression part feels like just that—an impression more so than an embodiment. Nonetheless, the performance tended to grow on me and ultimately turns out to be another admirable display of Natalie Portman's talent as an actress continually unafraid to explore a wide variety of roles. Jackie is coproduced by Darren Aronofsky who directed Portman in the brilliant psychodrama Black Swan (2010), her career-best. It was an emotionally and physically intense performance that won her the Academy Award. In Jackie she's more toned down, but still manages a hypnotic, poignant allure as she alternates between stifled and surging emotion.

Perhaps the best aspect of Jackie is that it successfully evokes a strong sense of loneliness, as Jackie is virtually alone throughout the aftermath of the assassination. Sure, lots of people are around in the first couple of days—Jackie has an assistant, a nanny for her two little kids, and Robert Kennedy is there, etc. But when the interviewer comes to Jackie's house she's completely alone, without even a servant in sight, and many times throughout the film she's by herself; smoking, drinking, crying, lying in bed, bathing, and climbing into or out of a dress before or after some event or media appearance.  

To the film's credit, it diverges from standard Hollywood bio-pic fare with its avoidance of formulaic genre conventions. It's material that could easily slip into melodrama if in less skilled hands. But Jackie may be largely uninteresting and too slow-moving except perhaps to diehard JFK buffs, Natalie Portman fans, and those interested in historical female figures in general or Jackie Kennedy in particular. Written by American Noah Oppenheim and coproduced by the U.S., France, and Chile, this is the first English-language film by Chilean director Pablo Larraín, and seems aimed at American audiences. It avoids moralizing on JFK's political actions and makes little effort to provide historical context, instead maintaining a somber atmosphere and patriotic brand of sadness. It's less an overtly political story than an attempt at a human drama. But this is actually also one of the film's strengths, attempting a more intimate character portrait rather than a grandiose historical epic.

Ironically, though, the key to really appreciating this movie might be to view it through a political, feminist lens anyway. Jackie's solitude is captured in haunting ways. She's present throughout as the central protagonist yet the frenzy of events happening around her all seem to be occurring in a foggy, muffled background, manipulated by the lurking male power players within a system that has relegated her to a peripheral status because she's a woman—even as wife of the president. But in this story we get to see her as the main character and the men as the supporting players, magnifying the limitations of her position in the extraordinary circumstances of the time, and highlighting the complexity of her character and situation.

Jackie is depicted as a woman with a subdued acceptance of sexism, reflective of the time and place her character inhabits. Her role is painted as being mostly just a counterpart to JFK, initially as the First Lady and now as widow to the fallen president. But I didn't learn much about the real Jackie Kennedy; where she's from, her past or upbringing, etc. As such the film is somewhat unclear in its intent; on one hand it attempts to portray Jackie as a sympathetic character, a strong woman thrust into a hugely challenging position in a time when women were prevented from having power—even more so than today. The film attempts to show Jackie's efforts in the assassination aftermath as those characteristic of a courageous, stately woman, and her insistence on JFK's public funeral procession and her appearance at it as a benefit to the nation, as helping it heal by standing strong in the face of national tragedy. But on the other hand it's shown that Jackie actually does very little, and her behaviour leading up to the funeral is mostly that of a traumatized widow whom the male officials graciously tolerate as they attempt to dissuade her efforts for the public procession. Perhaps this is the very point though, a comment on 1960s American sexism; Jackie's orchestration of the public ceremony is a way of taking action toward healing on her own grounds, and to stand defiant against the powerful men around her.
Rating (out of 5): ★★★
• Nik Dobrinsky / Boy Drinks Ink
January 15th, 2017