Kosmologia

Little. Chiron. Black. Three names, but only one story. The story of an everyday boy, struggling with the conditions life has decided to put him through. 'Moonlight' is not merely the title of Barry Jenkin's work, but it is an active and fundamental character of the movie itself. Juan, some kind of spiritual father for the protagonist, tells Little that once an old woman said to him: "In moonlight, black boys look blue". This is, indeed, the core of the story, and a key to interpret it as well: the moon reveals the real nature of black people, and in particular of our characters, because it makes them lighter, not black but blue. It colours them. More than that, 'blue' in English is not just the word for a colour, but it expresses a whole state of mind and feelings: being blue means being melancholic, being nostalgic, being rather sad. Little and Chiron had to go through so much more pain than the other children or kids of their age, that they became Black. Nevertheless, Black is just a dark and rough surface for what's really inside the character, something the latter buried in order to go on, to protect himself, to survive: his real soul, and, fatally bound to it, a great pain. Pain for his tragic family situation, and pain for his homosexuality. This great matter is both subtly and deeply shown in the movie, with no moral presumptions of saying whether it's right or wrong, or how a person should handle it. It's just a person's trait, and by being so, each person has to deal with it in a different way, according to who they are and what and whom they are surrounded by. Sadly for Little and Chiron, they were not in the best environment to grow up in, and this lead them to clam up; luckily for Black, his old best friend Kevin, with whom he shared his first - and "only" - homosexual experience, reaches out to him and exposes him after years of pretend and isolation. "Who is you man?", Kevin asks him; and the only thing Black can answer is: "I'm me, man. Ain't trying to be nothing else." But his face, his body language, the scenes afterwards tell a different truth. Kevin, who is "the only man who ever touched" him, questions him, doubts him, thus reveals him. And, with one of the most beautiful ending shots of the last few years, Black finds his way back to Little, to his one true soul. Wonderfully written and directed by Barry Jenkins, the movie boasts great cinematography accomplishments as well: the shots are very precise and symmetrical, and a great deal of art and poetry emanate from moments like the one with Juan and Little playing in the sea. The colours are wisely and carefully picked, with blue shades as a recurring colour palette, and with a whole other range of colours that tend to represent the atmosphere of the scene or, in particular, the protagonist's state of mind. Thanks to the very common and yet wonderful storyline, and to all the technical qualities of the movie in its whole, the spectator manages to become one with the characters, the seaside, the moonlight: in one word, with the boundless atmosphere. He is drawn to not only see but actually breathe the universe shown on the screen. And to flow in it until the very end.

Federico Fellini is a master of dreams and mind mischief. Each and every movie directed by him projects the viewer into an entirely disconnected reality, where characters and symbols take over and rule the scene. This particular side of his creations is the undisputed protagonist of 8 1/2. Starting from the very first scene, the environment and the situation Guido finds himself in are so strange and fantastic that you may as well see the entire movie as a huge dream beginning right in this scene. Not an ordinary dream, of course, but a dream with the precise purpose of helping the protagonist through his crisis as an artist. Guido is in the middle of a movie production, but he just feels lost. He has no direction, no inspiration. He's a half man with a half work. The title could be seen as an irrelevant detail, and as a matter of fact it was meant to be temporary: Fellini used to name the movie 8 1/2 because it actually was his 8 1/2 movie, since he had previously directed nine movies but only co-directed three of them. He declared that he kept the same title out of indecision, but it may as well be likely that his genius mind told him to do so because it actually has a relation to the movie. A half title for a half man with a half work. Guido tries to fill this missing half of himself by seeking answers in the past: his parents, his lovers, his childhood, and, mostly, his Catholic education. Faith and Church are recurring elements in Fellini's movies, but he never actually enhances or criticizes either of them. Not eloquently, at least. They're just way too important in Guido's life, and despite his continuous efforts of trying to pull out answers from them, he simply cannot. Not Faith, not Church; not his women, not his fantasies: as the movie goes on, nobody and nothing seems to be able to save him from his misery. Until, eventually, he understands that the only one standing in his way is himself, not only as his enemy, but as his only possible Saviour as well. "Guido" in Italian literally means "I drive": only by figuring out that he's the driver of his own life can he finally find peace and discover the Truth about himself. "All the confusion of my life has been a reflection of myself: myself as I am, not as I'd like to be. The truth is [...]"

There is definitely a lot to say about "Mommy". So many sides to it that I honestly do not know where to begin. The first aspect that really got a hold on me was the cinematography, as well as the photography. The camera, directed by Xavier Dolan, manages to make the viewer breathe an aura of beauty and gleam in most of the scenes, insofar as the movie as a whole can actually be classified as one of those rare masterpieces in which you may - and often you do - easily get lost. And the soundtrack certainly plays a role in this game. From Dido to Céline Dion, from Eiffel 65 to Andrea Bocelli, from Oasis to Ludovico Einaudi, each artist and each song is perfectly accurate for the moment in which it is played. Especially and eventually Lana Del Rey with her "Born To Die". But I think the greatest aspect of the entire movie, if you can find one single aspect better than another one, is the structure and the interior complexity of the very few characters. Both *Die* and Steve, and Kyla as well, have a both strong ad anguished personality, and the bounds that exist among them are, in one word, visceral. As visceral as their true essence. As visceral as the situation in which they are imprisoned, and from which they can escape only in very few moments of « Liberté », as Steve screams to the sky. Only in this coinciding moments the framing widens, turning from a square to a giant rectangle, and the spectator is suddenly swallowed by the excitement of the characters, by their joy. By their innate and genuine HAPPINESS.