Say New York is another character one more damn time. Image via A24

Let me get this out of the way before I formally start this review: I do not know New York City better than people who actually live in New York (I can take a train directly into Grand Central from my local stop; that’s where my credentials end), but I at least understand it better than people who have only seen the inside of the Bubba Gump in Times Square.

So once upon a time, New York City was an awful crime-ridden hellhole. This is what you will hear today anytime you enter a trendy Williamsburg restaurant. Mid-bite of a $30 sandwich, some old guy will begin to rant about how horrible the neighborhood once was, and also how much better the city was when The Ramones were around. Nostalgia is a complicated force with many faces.

Instead of piggy backing of off the human need for nostalgia, A Most Violent Year instead uses this time period as a backdrop to tell a surprisingly mellow story. The film is set in 1981, supposedly the peak of deadly crime in the city. It seems like the worst possible time to make a living, but Abel Morales (Oscar Isaac) runs a successful oil business. He prides himself on his honesty and integrity. Unlike most people, he can get ahead without compromising his morals. However, as his business gets threatened by rivals in some very violent ways, he is forced to compromise. The problem with Abel is that he is often so passive that it is hard to tell what moral compass it is that he doesn’t want to break.

Oscar Isaac is one of those actors who is so good and so varied in his talent that it makes me angry. Same goes for Jessica Chastain, who scores big as his wife and bookkeeper Anna. She is an embodiment of a tough new money attitude. The most interesting scenes in the film are the ones in which she plays a starring role. In one standout scene, Abel and Anna must decide what to do with a dying deer on the side of the road. He grabs a crowbar; she silently grabs a gun and shoots it without hesitation. Abel might seem to be the most powerful person in the film, but he loses in the war at home.

Scenes like that make me wish Chastain could have had more screen time. She is a source of energy that the film needs, because it often moves at a snail’s pace. At times, I didn’t feel as frightened as I should have during some terrible events, like when a man with a gun gets dangerously close to murdering Abel and his family.

Maybe this is because I was expecting a crime thriller, when this is really a story about the struggle to avoid criminal activity in a world that demands short cuts. A Most Violent Year is a morality tale that sometimes feels more like a novel than a film. Yet, J.C. Chandor, who has the name of a 1940s film noir detective, has a directorial style that feels out of the past. One chase scene, which involves multiple types of transportation, feels like something right out of The French Connection. It builds not just on tension from the moment, but on everything we have known about the character prior.

The highest compliment I can pay A Most Violent Year is that it is certainly a beautiful looking film. It is shot mainly during that depressing part of any given winter day when it seems like the day is ending just as it is beginning. There is one particularly beautiful image where blood and oil mix, something that even Upton Sinclair probably couldn’t come up with in writing. The film captures the gritty, graffiti-covered abandoned factories of the outer boroughs that haven’t gone exactly gone away today, despite gentrification. The Manhattan skyline is featured prominently in the film but usually as a blurry backdrop beyond the reaches of the 59th Street Bridge. These aren’t people living outside the law, but they are living in the shadow of greatness.

The old cliche goes that every New York story features New York as a third character. A Most Violent Year is a New York story that at least tries to look at this familiar city a little differently. We have seen enough couples fall in love on top of the Empire State Building, so why not take us to the East River docks for a change. A Most Violent Year isn’t perfect, but that adds to some of its charm. It is a familiar story about the downside of the American Dream told just a little differently.

Image via LA Times

In the opening minutes of Selma, Martin Luther King (David Oyelowo) is struggling with a big question: what message will he be sending if he wears an ascot to accept his Nobel Prize? It is a relatively small problem that means the world to Dr. King in the kind of film where we learn so much about a man we all thought we knew so well.

Most historical films would end when somebody receives such a big honor. However, Selma is partially a film about cementing your legacy, whether you are civil rights leader or the governor of Alabama, and Selma is smart enough to know that picking one defining moment of King’s life is no easy task.

Not naming the film MLK or Martin or King’s Speech was probably a good idea, given that its focus is much broader than the scope of King’s life. Selma mainly focuses on the buildup and fallout of the Selma Marches that took place in 1965 over the issue of voting rights. Much of the film involves MLK sorting through political muck in order to achieve his goals. Amazingly, this film makes “politics as usual” interesting, exciting, and infuriating.

Selma is directed by Ava DuVernay, who began her career as a publicist and then went on to be a documentary filmmaker. Her skills as a documentarian are in full force here, and at times this feels less like a script and more like reality. Very early on, a horrific event occurs. There is no sense of dread leading up to it in the form of music or foreshadowing. It is a normal day and then tragedy occurs. Something that a lot of films can get wrong is that nobody expects tragedy to happen. We live before it happens, and then if we survive, we just continue on.

DuVernay collaborates perfectly with Oyelowo to help the actor craft one hell of a performance. It goes beyond the fact that he has a both a good and a bad side (King’s extramarital affairs are alluded to). This was a man who had to ask for feedback on all of his speeches while at the same time, was stubborn to a fault when it came to his personal beliefs. Oyelowo has to capture every side and then when he has to actually give a speech, he is just as dynamic as King himself.

I don’t want to say that Selma is a political statement but in ways, it is. And it doesn’t throw it in your face the same way that other political films might. There are certain events in this film that will subconsciously remind you of things you have recently seen in the news. Think of it like One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. Cuckoo’s Nest is set in the early 1960s, but said a lot about the modern counterculture when it came out in 1975. Selma is a story from the past that happens to have a lot of foresight into the present day (and not in the Newsroom sort of way). The great thing about Selma is that it never feels like a textbook entry: it is as vivid, alive, and tangible as the present.

Brain Farts From The Edge

• Tim Roth’s southern accent borders on an Aldo Raine impression.
• There has been a lot of talk about how accurate Selma is, especially by those who used to work with LBJ. Additionally, the film doesn’t highlight the Jews who marched with MLK. I am not sure how much of the LBJ stuff is true or false, but is important to remember that it is actually okay when a biopic strays from the truth. As long as you don’t completely alter history, it is okay. Sometimes, fact needs to be sacrificed in order to tell a better story. LBJ takes a long time to completely jump on MLK’s cause, and that’s what makes it a better story. Nitpicking ruins good movies. Plus, you can spot a few yamakas in the crowd.
• A lot of great films unfortunately suffer from White Savior Complex. Remember when Brad Pitt came to save the day in 12 Years A Slave. You can argue amongst yourselves whether Selma has that problem. I think it doesn’t. After all, this is the story of a man who united people both black and white for a cause.
• There is a scene where Oprah (ever heard of her?) hits a cop. As this happened, an old woman behind me shouted, “good for you, Oprah!”