As an almost-19 year old English undergraduate, I cannot claim to be an expert on the events portrayed within this film, nor to be any more than mildly familiar with the circumstances surrounding the events detailed within, and yet despite this Pablo Larrain has crafted a film so powerful, so shocking, so moving with Jackie that I simply can not claim to deny its majesty.
Hailed as 'the first White House movie to kick out the President in complete favour of the First Lady', Jackie is utterly devoted to the lost and troubled soul of Ms Kennedy. A figure so prominent and iconic in both political and pop culture, Natalie Portman's portrayal of Jaqueline risked seeming too 'SNL' (a spoof-esque impersonation as opposed to a respectfully crafted and dimensional character). Thankfully though, the character was treated with care and with out judgement, allowing the figure presented on-screen to be utterly enthralling, captivating and, in some cases, fearsome-ly powerful. The film utterly dotes on Portman's Kennedy with not just every scene but almost every shot of the movie depicting or revolving around her. Combining this intense presentation with the constant use of the handheld camera created, at times, an almost claustrophobic closeness to the character which arguably seeks to mirror the suffocation that she herself must have felt during and forever after her husband's shock assassination.
The camera work as a whole was remarkable, with shots expertly causing the audience to feel as Jackie herself must have done. A panning shot of the Dallas road on which the Kennedy's were driving on caused stomachs to lurch not only due to dizziness, but also to the anticipation and inevitability of the imminent gun shot. Shots of Jackie stumbling through a muddy, foggy graveyard in her high heels perfectly captured her pain and isolation in a new world she should never have had to have faced; "I didn't want any of this. I just wanted to be a Kennedy". In one sequence the audience recieves a mute tour of the White House led by a disturbed and haunted Jackie, itself mirroring the Emmy award winning and ground-breaking A Tour of the White House with Mrs John F. Kennedy, which also featured prominently within the film.
Before seeing Jackie, I had read a review of the film which seemed dissatisfied with what it says of 'Camelot'. 'Camelot' is, in fact, the central theme of the movie, the idea of the perfect government, the perfect leader and the perfect court, with the perfect queen and adoring citizens. The review stated that the film seemed to both damn the idea of Camelot, and praise it, leaving the reviewer confused and in-contented with its overall message. I would like to offer a quick response, then, as I feel that the film in every scene, in every detail, comments on the duplicity of the government, of the Kennedy's and of Camelot itself. Take the two shots below.
The first presents 'Camelot'. Jackie, in her iconic red suit stands in the White House during her televised tour. Perfectly presented and ready to begin, Portman's Kennedy is providing the people with exactly want they want and expect. The shot below is the same in almost every aspect, but draws back the curtain on the Oz-ian facade.
In the second image, however, we see the facade crumbled. Ms Kennedy stands in the trauma and reality of her life. The blood on her dress mimics the bright red suit she wore before but this time it's deep colour represents the collapse of an empire, not patriotism.
This type of cinematographic, repetitive poetry runs as a theme throughout the film and is even noted by the character herself, as she tells journalists and funeral managers and politicians and her children both what they want, and to a degree need to hear, even when it doesn't correlate with the reality of her situation. The film does not damn the idea of Camelot, in my opinion anyway, but lifts it up as an idealist goal despite its superficiality. Jackie herself acknowledges its insubstantial nature as she tells a journalist she doesn't smoke while drawing ashen tobacco up to her lips. It was Jackie that coordinated the formation of JFK's legacy, as she repeats that "there will never be another Camelot". Jackie never wanted Camelot for herself, it is a front that she knew the government had to build, if not for its people then in respect of it's 35th President.
John Hurt's nameless Priest offers a beautifully complex and non-judgmental exploration of morals and purpose in the latter half of the film; he serves as someone who grounds the legend of Jackie Kennedy in a humanly emotional reality. Moving many in the audience to tears, his role in Jackie was fitting as one of his last. Moreover, the work of composer Mica Levi that accompanied the film was incredibly visceral, and pushed scenes to emotional extremes that often left me disturbed and uneasy. While initially jarring, this score enabled the film to superbly present the real story of Jackie Kennedy and further allowed to audience to connect with her as an authentic person.
In short, Jackie removes the most shocking presidential assassination in modern American history from Arthurian legend and places it and its impact in the gritty real world. Dismantling the legend that Ms Kennedy worked so hard to create, the film dazzles as a glimpse into the life of one of the most complex women in recent memory. Perhaps Jackie was right; in the age of social media and the hateful beast Trump it seems as if Camelot will never return to the White House, but maybe that is a good thing. The Arthurian legend she managed to craft has lived on for decades, surpassing even her own life.
Jackie is a touching, reverent and sophisticated peek behind the curtain onto the life of America's own Queen Guinevere.
⭐⭐⭐⭐
Written by James Green
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