Review of Jackie (2016) by Matheus C — 28 Mar 2018

Noah Oppenheim's sharply insightful script, peppered with memorable dialogues and buoyed by judicious injections of wit to perk up the sepulchral proceedings, is the strong launching board from which director Pablo Larrain deep-dives to essay a powerful odyssey of terminated ambition. The real-life story is one of twentieth century's most damning ones of personal apocalypse, all the more so because it reeked of vast systemic rot. President John F Kennedy of U.S.A, two years into his leadership in 1963, was assassinated by a sniper's bullet that tore through his brain as his open-top motorcade was passing through the crowds in Dallas, Texas. His exploded skull and floridly wounded head then lay on the lap of his wife Jacqueline Kennedy as the car proceeded to the hospital. The film, true to its name, focuses on her in the fresh aftermath of the incident.

Director Larrain is splendidly assisted in this haunting autopsy by two other story-tellers. Twenty-nine year old Mica Levi weaves brooding voluptuous magic with orchestral notes, composed inseparably into the movie's fibre. Larrain does not hesitate to dial up her music - the very first frames of Jackie walking in twilight, breathe in broad haunting strokes of decrescendo cello. Ms.Levi harvests that formidable instrument with key contributions of flute, powerfully, languidly and judiciously, with endlessly inventive variations. Days of Heaven", "I am Love" and now this film open another vital chapter of the textbook on how to use orchestra in film.

Frame after frame is simply beautiful to watch, an earth-bound heaven in pastel, with immaculately composed canvases by cinematographer Stephane Fontaine (cf. similar soft-tone beauty in his 'Elle' the same year). The White House interiors are ravishingly beautiful, covered smoothly in flowing takes as Jackie walks through it, the glowing expanses of white tastefully accentuated by elegant classical furniture. Exterior shots of the Port Hyannis mansion are exquisite in showing Massachussets countryside in autumn tranquility, and so also the the postcard-worthy vistas of trees and lake as Jackie confides in a priest.

Portman is indistinguishable from the persona she essays, a magnificent internalization that acting dreams are made of. Just like the real-life Jacqueline Kennedy, she's a bit stiff and formal while speaking publicly, and more direct and natural in private. Her hair is styled up into a bouffant, her wardrobe tres fashionable, the voice drawn out in a Southern affected drawl, and Portman's natural beauty matches the latter's prettiness. Jacqueline Kennedy had emerged as the most glamorous and adored First Lady the Americans ever had, a fashion icon even in the campaign days when her presence made her husband's popularity doubly soar, going on to splendidly redecorate the White House, and hosting glittering art events not witnessed before. But President John F Kennedy was a promiscuous man and his wife would have had to live with this ritual humiliation. When he died, how much of her grief was due to the loss of a beloved husband and what part due to the abrupt shortening of her legacy as an adored queen ? We see that Jacqueline is genuinely devastated, floating in and out of a fugue state even as she relentlessly battles to keep up appearances. It is in her interview with the journalist that we sense what truly was going in her mind. More @ Upnworld.