Easily the most undeservedly understated film this year, I am convinced that A Most Violent Year is also one of the best. Perhaps its late release resulted in its being almost entirely ignored by the awards circuit, but then we all know how much that actually means. Just think of all the truly amazing -- and awards-snubbed -- films just last year: Enemy, Under the Skin, Locke, Love is Strange, Snowpiercer, Only Lovers Left Alive, and many others. Besides the otherwise familiar romantic drama Love is Strange, these films aggressively bend genre conventions and even filmmaking techniques, resulting in abstract, experimental film less approachable by Academy voters. So why do I push A Most Violent Year into their company?
A Most Violent Year follows the odd but welcome strain of crime dramas and neo-noir/art films of this past year, including A Most Wanted Man, A Walk Among the Tombstones, and The Drop. It also continues this year's seemingly universal cinematic meditation on moral compromise and, well, fifty shades of gray-area ethics. (Stay tuned for more on that, in my pre-Oscar post. Forthcoming.)
This film concerns a young business man (Oscar Isaac) -- aptly named Abel Morales, in full artistic/allegorical significance -- who seeks expansion and security. His product, fuel oil, is a hot commodity in 1981 New York, and his truck drivers are subjected to attacks from hijacking competitors, and a district attorney (David Oyelowo) targets his business for intense scrutiny. Meanwhile, the Morales household is tested repeatedly by both gangsters and cops, resulting in Abel's wife, Anna (Jessica Chastain), taking matters into her own hands. So now let's talk about why I'm crazy about this picture.
EW's Esther Zuckerman said it best: "History will remember it [because...] the film will stand as evidence of major talents whose careers are still on the upswing". Leading is Oscar Isaac, a personal favorite, whose successes haven't been much recognized (remember Inside Llewyn Davis?) perhaps because his greatest talent lies in his ability to restrain and nuance a performance. Isaac flawlessly gives his character a powerhouse journey through being a husband, father, and successful business leader. He carries his paternal strength into the workplace and makes an otherwise dirty and dangerous job profoundly intimate and validating. The film is worth watching just for his performance (but also everything else). Because he's so wonderful, please take some time to get to know him before he becomes a mainstream sensation in this year's Star Wars: Episode VII and X-Men: Apocalypse. Good starting places might be The Nativity Story (2006), Won't Back Down (2012), or The Two Faces of January (2014).
Following his lead and matching him at every turn is Jessica Chastain, easily one of the most versatile and prolific actresses of the last five years: Coriolanus (2011), The Help (2011), Lawless (2012), Zero Dark Thirty (2012), Mama (2013), Salome (2013...okay, I haven't seen it yet, but I am actively hunting for it!), Interstellar (2014), and the forthcoming (or, should I say, selectively released) The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby. Sorry about the lists, but I'm crazy about these people. Chastain transforms her chameleonic self yet again into a bizarre character who desperately seeks strength in a world that will not permit it. She seeks social power by throwing a party, only to have it ripped from her by a police raid; she seeks personal security by keeping a gun handy, only to use it to put a deer out of its misery. She plays into an older, almost campy, type of leading woman, allowing her costume (and veritable fingernail-talons) to become an extension of her while she perfectly owns the tricky accent and dutiful housewife/co-conspirator role. She is a marvel.
Director and writer J.C. Chandor -- Margin Call (2011), All is Lost (2013) -- is, for me, perhaps the most promising director of the last three years because he has only directed three feature films, and each has been an utter success. Each has also, and more importantly, been radically different from the others. Chandor hasn't established a distinct style of filmmaking, which for me makes him a more intriguing director and one with undeniable artistic integrity. He films A Most Violent Year with attention to delicate emotional beats and a rhythmic visual pulse that mirrors his beautiful dialogue. His style is augmented with the stunning costumes: fitted, clean suits and coats, coats, COATS. Cinematographer Bradford Young (also unrecognized for his killer work in this year's Selma) keeps things hopping in an otherwise slow, taut drama, and works to shade the screen into subtle dusk. Chandor and Young work together to make the film dark, seductive, and meditative, with through-lines of razor-sharp wit and cruel tension. It is, truly, a most brutal viewing experience.
IMDb: A Most Violent Year
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