Barry Jenkins' Moonlight is a poetic and often beautiful movie that evokes the early works of David Gordon Green. Shot in lush colors by cinematographer James Laxton, with a dactylic musical score (by Nicholas Britell) that even Terrence Malick might find admirable, the film explores three different chapters in the life of a bullied, insecure young man called Chiron, whose quiet and shy demeanor he embodies early on remain, more or less, the only unchanged characteristic traits as he grows up in his south Florida community. As he deals with his crack addicted mother (Naomi Harris), meets a kind dope dealer named Juan (Mahershala Ali) who shows a genuine father-like interest in him, and engages in matters of sexual curiosity with a classmate (Jharrel Jerome), Chiron boldly epitomizes a struggling teenager whose world can suddenly crash from delivering kindness to delivering blows that leave him bruised and bloodied.
The great Ali (House of Cards) is here, unfortunately, given too little screen time, and - just as he was the best thing about Netflix' Luke Cage, until he was so abruptly taken out - his departure from Moonlight's second and third acts feels even more surprising, especially given how heavily his presence can be seen in all the TV ads and promos for the film. Also, if there is an element I could not altogether grasp, it's Chiron's transformation from a skinny, dorky teen to a muscular, body building, gold-mouthed, pistol carrying dealer; the man looks nothing like his younger on-screen alter ego - but we'll leave the petty nit picking for another time.
Moonlight doesn't have all the answers (the final scene is beautiful in its ambiguousness) but for a movie that explores the identity of a conflicted youth/teenager/adult, it goes about its business as lyrically as a piece of modern cinema can.
B+
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