Tag Archives: The Edge of Seventeen

Top 10 coming-of-age films since 2010

The coming-of-age genre has always been an exciting framework through which some of the more fruitful and engaging stories of any given year are told. But those stories also shed some light and visibility upon a section of people that too many films often get wrong or simply don’t care for: the young. Youth is a complex time in one’s life and deserves complex deconstruction that embraces the humor, awkwardness and explicitness that comes with it. And in the past few years, the genre has exploded with landmark tale after landmark tale. From a fantastical take such as Wes Anderson’s Moonrise Kingdom to the literal interpretation of the genre with Boyhood, coming-of-age has been a playground, both literally and figuratively, of the utmost profundity.

10. Spider-Man: Homecoming

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Spider-Man: Homecoming truly does wear its John Hughes inspiration on its sleeve, but in a way that feels so right and so natural to the character of Peter Parker. More than most superhero films, Homecoming focuses on youth and what a young teenager might look like as he deals with the responsibilities both of high school as well as of being a hero. The journey is truly about Parker realizing that he has to pass his classes and that he should be having fun with friends, a mindset through which he may realize that, as a hero, he can’t do everything, especially everything that an older hero like Tony Stark can. The film never sacrifices that notion, ending on the perfect note. Director Jon Watts also not only embraces those subjects, but injects the verve of adolescence into the energy of the film itself — the pacing is dynamic and the tone is always genuine, sweet, hilarious and fun. Spider-Man: Homecoming is inarguably a coming-of-age film and a superhero film.

— Kyle Kizu

9. 20th Century Women

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What’s so striking about Mike Mill’s 20th Century Women is that it not only crafts a coming-of age-story specific to the 1970s, but that it also deftly handles multiple characters’ journeys. Focusing on a post-Vietnam age, with the hippie movement almost in full force in California, the film places topics of gender, sexuality and individuality at the forefront, which, with a plethora of youthful characters, means some tensions on those fronts. Yet, the film is never exploitive nor indulgent, instead bringing an authenticity and agency to the young women, Elle Fanning and Greta Gerwig’s characters, and intertwining all of their journeys to lead to a particularly poignant and tranquil end.

— Kyle Kizu

8. American Honey

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Directed by Andrea Arnold, American Honey finds a balance between a road movie and a coming-of-age tale, both of which show a part of America rarely seen on the big screen. Detailing the poverty that strikes much of the midwest and southern parts of the United States, American Honey is not a traditional coming-of-age story where someone finds themselves at the end. Instead, the film is about people, especially young people, who are lost in the world. Through Sasha Lane’s star-making turn as the lost Star, the audience embarks on a journey of forgotten and disrespected millennials, guided by a traveling sales crew leader Jake (Shia LaBeouf’s best performance yet). What the millennials are selling to unsuspecting buyers might be fake, but the honest portrait of teenagers unsure of who they are in this world couldn’t be more real.  

— Levi Hill

7. Moonrise Kingdom

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While it can be argued that every Wes Anderson movie is a coming-of-age story (even for the middle age sort), Moonrise Kingdom takes its spot next to Rushmore as one of the most idiosyncratic, but beautifully crafted coming-of-age films. The film, in a way that only Anderson can, takes the feelings of first-love and creates a relatable, if unrealistic tale about a community chasing after two young eloping lovers (Kaya Hayward and Jared Gilman). Throw in a starry cast including Bill Murray, Frances McDormand, Tilda Swinton and Edward Norton, a wonderful score from Alexandre Desplat, the typically gorgeous production design found in an Anderson film and a story about how love comes in many shapes and age groups, and Moonrise Kingdom is a whimsical and delightful coming-of-age story.

— Levi Hill

6. Dope

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Dope is refreshing in many ways, not the least that it gives its coming-of-age trappings an unique point of view. Relying on a star-making turn from Shameik Moore, Dope’s main success comes from its ability to subvert stereotypes. Unlike most Hollywood produced coming-of-age stories, Dope is strictly about an intelligent, young African American high school student as he juggles college applications, the SAT and academic interviews — all in the hopes of getting into Harvard. Even when it turns into a fast-paced caper film of Malcolm (Moore) being in the wrong place at the wrong time — explicitly opening dialogue around urban Black stereotypes and such — writer-director Rick Famuyiwa refreshingly plays against expectations. Malcolm is a brilliant, quick-witted, handsome young man and he’s not going to let society tell him differently. Because of this, Dope stands apart from 95% of modern-day youth stories.

— Levi Hill

5. The Edge of Seventeen

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Kelly Fremon Craig’s directorial debut, The Edge of Seventeen, is vibrant, hilarious, truthful and different. The film overcomes its potential genre pitfalls by embracing the bluntness of its main character Nadine (an outstanding Hailee Steinfeld). While Nadine may be shy among strangers, the film itself, with pitch perfect editing, writing and performances from its ensemble, tackles high school life with a similar head-on strength that she shows when among friends. Whether it be through typical high school hijinx, through the oddly specific situation of Nadine’s best friend dating her brother and through the grief in all of Nadine’s family after her father’s death, The Edge of Seventeen takes youth seriously both in its fun and its struggles, realizing that every side of youth is intertwined.

— Kyle Kizu

4. Moonlight

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Moonlight is a singular coming-of-age tale. While it may explore sexuality and individuality as many other films do, the way in which those aspects are understood and the particulars of those aspects, that this is a story about a gay Black man, stand apart. Structured almost like a play in three literal acts (it was based on Tarell Alvin McCraney’s play In Moonlight Black Boys Look Blue), Moonlight crafts a story that’s both quiet and pulsating, as it’s in the silence, in the soft glances and pained reactions, where the film says most. It allows us to absorb, through its cinematography, its breezy sound design, its unbelievable performances and more, the complex pains of a young boy/young man, Chiron, constantly having to reconcile himself with his city, his family, his community and himself when all seem to actively work to suppress. The film is simultaneously about Chiron understanding his sexuality and about him understanding his masculinity. We see him hide behind masks throughout, but we also see him yearn to be himself, which renders his quiet vocalization of truth at the end, to the one man he loved, so utterly powerful.

— Kyle Kizu

3. Lady Bird

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More so than maybe any film on this list, there’s a universal specificity to what Lady Bird accomplishes. All coming-of-age stories are deeply personal, as they chart (typically) an individual’s realization of their own personhood — who they are going to be in this world. But Lady Bird doubles down on this, acting as a photo album of a year (a senior year in high school) for Christine “Lady Bird” Mcpherson (Saoirse Ronan) in the sleepy town of Sacramento, California. Within this year, she dates some boys, meets new friends, joins theater, leaves theater, loses her virginity, learns of her dad’s depression, gets accepted to a college 3000 miles away and argues with her domineering, but ultimately caring mother (the Oscar-worthy Laurie Metcalf). While some of this may sound sad, or almost too specific, writer-director Greta Gerwig makes sure that this personal story is filled with grace and warmth. Whether in a small scene of her father giving Lady Bird a cupcake on her birthday morning, or when she crushes on a boy at a garage show, or when she argues with her mother about if she should just go to the nearby UC Davis rather than a school in New York, Lady Bird captures that very important year in all of our lives with more authenticity than nearly any other film.

— Levi Hill

2. Boyhood

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Boyhood is a landmark film for a multitude of reasons. While the 12-years-in-the-making component is one of the first — if not the first — for a fictional feature, it’s how the story reconciles these 12 passing years. Using the same actors, with most of the same locations, writer-director Richard Linklater wisely focuses on how time, and thus age, affects us all. In a literal sense of coming-of-age, we see Mason (Ellar Coltrane) go from childhood to the fringe of adulthood. Linklater never magnifies the scale more than exactly what time gives us. Instead, for nearly three hours, the audience is asked to quietly ruminate on life experiences. To split time between divorced parents. To watch your mom go in a different career. To move from one city to the next. To make new friends. To have your first feelings of love. To smoking weed for the first time. To going off to college. In Boyhood, 12 years of a lived life happen, which create the most epic, yet intimate film on this list.

— Levi Hill

1. Call Me by Your Name

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Call Me by Your Name is not just about the central relationship. Yes, it’s a stunningly tender portrait of two young men exploring their sexuality together, but it’s also a very raw look at two young men grappling with their individual insecurities and their inadequacy. And writer James Ivory and director Luca Guadagnino accomplish this through their focus on the quiet, minute, almost untraceably intimate moments that end up building to something so tangible and real.

The actors adopt this method, finding truth in every aspect of their performance. Timothée Chalamet, as Elio, is a revelation, evoking playfulness, but behind a guarded exterior. We see the struggle Elio traverses in realizing his attraction to Armie Hammer’s character, Oliver, and — through Sayombhu Mukdeeprom’s erotic cinematography — we’re guided along as he slowly opens up to the idea. Next to that, Hammer’s character is purposefully elusive, rendering the moments of contemplation, particularly one in a hotel room, all the more emotional.

And at the end, Call Me by Your Name unveils its coming-of-age narrative. Through Michael Stuhlbarg’s character, as Stuhlbarg delivers the most profound monologue of the year, we understand that Elio and Oliver helped each other be themselves and feel good about themselves. Stuhlbarg’s monologue emphasizes the difficult notion that, too often, we hide from our feelings, especially those of pain — and as Elio grows and becomes an adult, he has to make sure to feel even if it hurts.

— Kyle Kizu

 

Featured image via IFC Films.

Top 15 directorial debuts since 2010

The following list of directorial debuts sets a particularly high bar for first forays into cinema. These directors have created films that offer deeply human portraits of their subjects — films like Fruitvale Station, Swiss Army Man, Beasts of the Southern Wild and The Edge of Seventeen. Some directors boldly push the boundaries of genre, as with some of the horror entries on this list. Some others have simply created works of pure badassery like John Wick. While each of the following directors might seem different from the next, they all accept the challenge of carving out their own space in cinema — a challenge that will inspire many to follow in their footsteps. As Jason Hall make his own mark with his directorial debut Thank You For Your Service, here are our picks of some of the best debuts since 2010:

15. Marielle Heller, The Diary of a Teenage Girl

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Marielle Heller’s debut, The Diary of a Teenage Girl, remains a wonderfully singular entrance into cinema, a film that candidly explores a girl’s sexual exploration in a balancing act of filmmaking that, as many have pointed out, could’ve easily gone wrong. But it didn’t, and that’s to credit of Heller, whose unconventional approach, intertwining animation into the film, nails a pitch perfect tone that is, at once, audacious, explicit, sensitive and never judgmental. That’s where Heller pulls it off — that she doesn’t ask this story to bend for what most might think it should, and rather commits to telling the story from the main character’s distinctive perspective. It’s uncomfortable, but it’s meant to be, which makes it all the more profound.

— Kyle Kizu

14. Drew Goddard, The Cabin in the Woods

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Genre satire is incredibly difficult to pull off for any filmmaker, new or seasoned. There’s always a threat of jokes and subversion missing the mark, and of tone falling out of balance. Not only did Drew Goddard avoid all of those pitfalls with his directorial debut The Cabin in the Woods, he was nearly pitch perfect in all regards. His comedic chops, as well as those of co-writer Joss Whedon, are on full display as the film takes conventional characters and turns their roles and the story’s arc on their heads. But like the best horror comedies, Shaun of the Dead principle among them, this film has its moments of genuine scares. When done right, these types of films become adored cult classics, and it’s clear that The Cabin in the Woods is on its way there.

— Kyle Kizu

13. Jennifer Kent, The Babadook

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The most affecting horror films are the ones that reflect the darkest corners of our own interiorities, and that’s exactly the elevation of genre which Jennifer Kent’s terrifying, emotionally wrenching debut The Babadook accomplishes. The film’s horror finds its epicenter in Amelia (Essie Davis), whose grief over her husband’s death manifests itself in a conflicting mixture of love and resentment for her son, Samuel (Noah Wiseman). This sense of emotional complexity speaks to the humanity of the film — every parent has at some point felt enraged at their child, even though that child is the one person they love most above all else. The Babadook offers reconciliation for this conflict, and it’s all a credit to Kent’s masterful direction.

— Harrison Tunggal

12. Dan Trachtenberg, 10 Cloverfield Lane

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In 10 Cloverfield Lane, director Dan Trachtenberg gives us a film surrounded by the element of surprise — nobody was expecting a Cloverfield sequel, much less a confined, claustrophobic thriller, much much less one hell of a directorial debut. Arguably, this sequel is an improvement on the original film. For one thing, being trapped in an underground bunker and dealing with its two other inhabitants is a more tension-filled premise than the found-footage story of the first film. More importantly though, Trachtenberg gives us a whole slew of better monsters — specifically John Goodman’s post-apocalyptic creep and the actual aliens that, against all expectations, finally, gloriously show up. As Trachtenberg moves forward with yet another mysterious sci-fi project, we can’t help but expect great things.

— Harrison Tunggal

11. Kelly Fremon Craig, The Edge of Seventeen

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The Edge of Seventeen is a coming of age film that’s powerful, controlled and extremely engaging all at once. It’s not just a stereotypical picture within the genre, not just a film that panders to its young adult demographic. The film takes youth seriously, recognizing that the blissful, fun freedom of teens and the awkward, genuinely difficult pains are intertwined. And the execution of this all comes down to Kelly Fremon Craig’s brilliant direction. Her script is wonderful, but not a simple one to translate to screen, and Fremon Craig jumps out of the gate with a seemingly inherent strength in guiding pace, character arc and tone. On top of that, The Edge of Seventeen is also a really affecting study of grief. It’s a film that truly works on all levels.

— Kyle Kizu

10. Robert Eggers, The Witch

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With The Witch, first time director Robert Eggers leverages his experience as a former production designer to create a vision of 17th century New England where satanic forces pervade daily life; there’s something evil in the film’s bleak natural lighting, the hungry woods and the restrictive costumes. Beyond mere aesthetics though, The Witch, in every respect, is one of the most unsettling film experiences that horror has to offer. Right from the moment characters speak, the period-accurate dialogue feels off-kilter, and if things weren’t stressful enough, the film quickly dials up the tension to precipitous heights in a scene involving a hag, a baby and a mortar and pestle (no, they’re not making hummus). Of course, The Witch might be Eggers’ first step in a career that is bound to be bright — or rather, dark, like a moonless New England night in the stiff clutches of winter, when witches’ howls pierce the silence and the Enemy stalks the earth — but his real accomplishment is introducing the world to the enigmatic, effortlessly cool Black Philip.

— Harrison Tunggal

9. Jayro Bustamante, Ixcanul

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In his profound first feature, Ixcanul, director Jayro Bustamante creates a uniquely Mayan film — he cast non-professional Mayan actors, wrote the film’s dialogue in the Mayan language of Kaqchikel and shot the film under the looming gaze of the titular Guatemalan volcano. Bustamante’s attention and respect for the indigenous Mayan culture results in a film that is deeply immersive, a film whose realism is akin to cinema verite, but which never ventures into intrusion. For all of the film’s realist qualities, Bustamante ensures that Ixcanul retains a warm humanity — especially through the saturation of color that pervades the film, but most strikingly, through the strength of its protagonist, Maria (María Mercedes Coroy). Through Maria, Bustamante suggests that female agency is the only true linkage between tradition and “modernity.” In all respects, Ixcanul is a triumph of representation in cinema, one that we can only hope continues as Bustamante’s career flourishes.

— Harrison Tunggal

8. Michaël Dudok de Wit, The Red Turtle

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The Red Turtle is an 80 minute, almost dialogue-free, two dimensional animated film. However, it’s one of the most profoundly human films of recent memory. There’s something quite jaw dropping about the animation here, simple yet mesmerizingly gorgeous, and filled with lush, stunning colors. And that’s where its humanity comes from: imagery. Cinema is, first and foremost, a visual medium, and we follow our protagonist’s journey by almost purely visual means — how struggle, love, heartbreak, anger, regret, desperation and more are visualized in a story of a man stuck on an island. As we follow along, we realize how our protagonist is humbled, humbled by nature of all kinds and made to realize both that not everything revolves around human beings as well as how that can bring the best out of those very human beings. All of this also comes without mention of Laurent Perez Del Mar’s transfixing score, a soaring, tragic journey on its own.

The Red Turtle stunning and breathtaking, and one not to miss. That it’s Michaël Dudok de Wit’s directorial debut is mind-boggling.

— Kyle Kizu

7. Benh Zeitlin, Beasts of the Southern Wild

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A fantastical, majestic tale of wonder and joy, Beasts of the Southern Wild is a film that sticks with you long after you’ve seen it. Not only is Quvenzhané Wallis an absolute revelation, but the film itself is a spirited triumph of independent filmmaking, a scraps kind of project composed with the utmost brilliance by Benh Zeitlin in his directorial debut. Almost dreamlike in that composition, the film crafts a community so crisply and so lively, and an explosion of a world through the eyes of its innocent protagonist, toned with an overwhelmingly affecting score to create an emotional profundity in its parallels to tragedy-struck communities like New Orleans, where Dwight Henry, who plays Wallis’ character’s father, comes from. In short, the film is poetic and transcendent.

— Kyle Kizu

6. David Leitch & Chad Stahelski, John Wick

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John Wick might have been the directorial debut for David Leitch and Chad Stahelski, but you couldn’t tell by watching it. In an action genre landscape where quick cuts and stunt doubles can get a pass from audiences, former stuntmen Leitch and Stahelski deliver some of the smoothest, most organic fight sequences in years — sure, it comes at the expense of John Wick’s dog, but when Keanu Reeves is kicking this much ass, it’s something we’re willing to forgive. Stahelski later doubles down on John Wick’s clean-cut action in the film’s sequel (one of the rare second installments that improves on the first), and Leitch recently directed Atomic Blonde, and has Deadpool 2 next on his plate, so it’s safe to say that John Wick represents both a landmark in the action genre and a stellar debut for two exciting new directors. Until Deadpool 2 or John Wick: Chapter 3 arrive in theaters, though, we’ll just have to be content with these five minutes of Peak Keanu.

— Harrison Tunggal

5. Alex Garland, Ex Machina

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As Ex Machina starts, we can tell that there’s something far more complex beneath the surface. We don’t really absorb it in its entirety until the end, but it’s there and we can feel it. Like many other directors on this list, Alex Garland pulls off that affect because of his composition of tone. There’s a bluntness to his story, a confrontational honesty within Oscar Isaac’s Nathan juxtaposed next to a startlingly direct tenderness in Alicia Vikander’s AI Ava. But that’s all for manipulation. Garland places us, the audience, in our very own Turing test alongside Domhnall Gleeson’s Caleb. He positions his camera, his characters and his dialogue in ways that work into our head and manipulate us into admiring Nathan, empathizing with Caleb and believing in Ava. What better way to tell a story about artificial intelligence and consciousness? But Ex Machina also uses those angles to subtly posit an idea of voyeurism and of man’s manipulation of the female body. With seamless, unparalleled visual effects, steely cool production design, Alicia Vikander’s magnetic, landmark performance and a hell of a creepy dance scene, Ex Machina immediately becomes one of the greats of contemporary sci-fi, and it’s only Alex Garland’s directorial debut.

— Kyle Kizu

4. Daniel Kwan & Daniel Scheinert, Swiss Army Man

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In terms of pure singularity, there is no film on this list more imaginative than Swiss Army Man. Dreamt up by the minds of former music video directors Daniel Kwan and Daniel Scheinert, Swiss Army Man should be the definition of an original film, unlike anything we’ve ever gotten and ever will — unless they make another. We can see Kwan and Scheinert’s intrinsic music video sensibilities, as scenes of montage or action are, on a technical level, composed masterfully. But what makes the film so special is the human spirit within its veins, or should we say within its farts. Swiss Army Man is about weirdness, about strangeness, about idiosyncrasies, but it’s also about the importance of embracing those qualities. Kwan and Scheinert give us a perspective on these two main characters that allow us to understand their vulnerabilities in the most raw sense. Amidst gorgeous and eccentric production and costume design, we still feel a sense of what drives these people to want to live. In that, Swiss Army Man is profoundly sincere and strangely, hauntingly beautiful in the most awkward of ways.

— Kyle Kizu

3. Dan Gilroy, Nightcrawler

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Rarely does a film, let alone a directorial debut, master tone, atmosphere and tension as thoroughly as Dan Gilroy did with Nightcrawler. And rarely does a film blend social commentary — in this case, of the quite literal horrors of video news — and character study so fluidly and so affectingly like Nightcrawler does. In this thriller, Gilroy crafts his setting, Los Angeles, as another character itself, as essential and vital to Jake Gyllenhaal’s Lou Bloom as video news is. The energy within each scene is stunningly pulsating, injected with vigor and vital to the film’s ideas about sacrifice, hard work and persistence. Nightcrawler will make viewers feel uncomfortable and creeped out. It’s an insidious film, and Gyllenhaal’s performance will go down as one of the best of the 21st century. But there’s something so satisfying about its polish, about its razor sharp edge. Like Lou Bloom, our eyes bulge at the progression of events, and like the best films about anti-heroes, we understand what we should come away from it with, while also basking in that insidious deliciousness that is Bloom’s success. There’s are very few character studies before and since that come close to Nightcrawler‘s unsettling brilliance.

— Kyle Kizu

2. Jordan Peele, Get Out

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Between the creepy one take opening, the visually-driven social commentary of the Sunken Place, stellar acting and an incisive blend of horror and satire, Get Out is easily one of the year’s best directed films, and a guaranteed staple in any critic’s top 10 list. The fact that Get Out is Jordan Peele’s first feature makes the film even more special, heralding a career that is bound to establish Peele as a modern master of genre, a career that is already taking shape. Right after Get Out’s release, Peele was offered the reigns to a big budget Akira remake, but he turned it down, preferring to work on original projects like the upcoming thriller Black Klansmen (which he will co-direct and co-produce with Spike Lee) and a Nazi-hunter TV drama called The Hunt, which he will produce. After Get Out, we can’t wait to see either of those projects.

— Harrison Tunggal

1. Ryan Coogler, Fruitvale Station

Forest Whitaker’s Significant Productions/OG Project/Courtesy

With Fruitvale Station, director Ryan Coogler portrays the last day in the life of Oscar Grant, who is determined to be the man his girlfriend and daughter need him to be, but is tragically killed by BART police. Coogler’s directorial debut is a story driven by the humanity of its subject, a film that elicits the utmost empathy from the viewer, as only the greatest films can. With Fruitvale Station, Coogler demonstrates a profound, comprehensive understanding of character, something he would continue to explore with Creed, which took the Rocky franchise to new heights and even earned Sylvester Stallone a Best Supporting Actor nomination. As the release of his next film, Black Panther, approaches, we can’t help but be excited for Coogler’s inevitably compelling portrait of the titular king of Wakanda.

— Harrison Tunggal

 

Featured image via Open Road Films.

‘Columbus’ Review: John Cho inhabits leading role in Kogonada’s artful directorial debut

With Columbus, John Cho proves something that so many have known for so long: that he’s a hell of a leading man. In a role that requires a subtle range of emotion, he owns every minutiae, from the weight of his character Jin’s culture to Jin’s complex relationship with a much younger Casey (Haley Lu Richardson).

Richardson herself continues the committed work she showed off in The Edge of Seventeen and Split. Much of writer-director Kogonada’s dialogue is exposition, which could’ve gotten bogged down were in not for Richardson selling Casey’s motivations fully. And when the exposition falls away and there’s not much dialogue left, she employs a physicality that perfectly opposes the minimalism of Cho’s performance.

Yet, the true star of the film is the writer-director. Kogonada began as a video essayist, becoming notable for his composition and editing, sensibilities that expertly transfer to his feature film. The story centers heavily around architecture, and Kogonada and cinematographer Elisha Christian, craft still-frames — of which Columbus is mostly composed — that feel like pieces of architecture themselves due to the arrangement of the mise-en-scene. One can truly see emotional development, even if the scenes are free of dialogue, because Kogonada is able to portray so much through where the actors stand, what items lie where or even just the stunning aesthetics of a shot.

And while so much is composed, arranged and manufactured, it’s the naturalism of the film that elevates it above simply impressive. The performances do the leg work of this, injecting what could’ve been stale with humanity. But it’s precisely that choice of Kogonada’s to have the characters speak so much, but do most of their emoting without words. There’s a pivotal scene in which Casey is asked to describe why a building is her favorite. She recites a memorized monologue before Jin stops her and asks her to really think about why. Kogonada cuts to the interior of the building — we can’t hear Casey — because it’s her face that matters, not what she says.

For that reason, Columbus may be difficult to confront. But for those who turn themselves over, it has profound rewards.

Grade: A-