Jackie

Those very first notes of Mica Levi's score, with its juxtaposition of strings, flute, and occasionally a clarinet, for the film Jackie, about Jacklyn Kennedy in her final tumultuous days at the White House in 1963, are immediate notifications that this film is going to be spellbinding. Only one week after the assassination, Jackie Kennedy is distraught, yet she has an undeniable fervor to make sure history remembers her husband, preferably more like Lincoln than McKinley. That is the simplest, most succinct way to explain this remarkably complicated story.

But the ironic thing is that history was kind to her husband's legacy for about fifty years. He's still well liked, often ranking around 15 or so among presidential scholars. But many historians, according to biographer Robert Dallek, author of the highly regarded and fair An Unfinished Life, think he was average or even slightly below average. The public, which usually forgets that it was his successor who accomplished the Great Society and not him (or that JFK may not have been one of the presidents during most of the Vietnam War, but his policies helped get us there), still hold him think highly of him. Perhaps he can owe that legacy to his wife.

But what of his wife's image these days? An initial search for articles about how the public views her only brings up stories about how her pink suit is being locked away (and won't be available for the public to view until 2103). But dig a bit deeper and it's easy to find what an optimist would call "adoration" but a neutral observer (or pessimist) might call "spell". Her approval ranking in the late 1990s was higher than Mother Theresa, Helen Keller, and any living president at that time. Unlike with regards to her husband, the historians' opinions largely match the public's: she was behind only Eleanor Roosevelt and Abigail Adams, according to a recent survey.  

Jackie, written by Noah Oppenheim and directed by Pablo Larrain, is a movie with a pretty darn good cast, to say the least. Billy Crudup is the first actor to appear besides Natalia Portman, who is nominated for Best Actress and is one of the front-runners. Crudup is Theodore H. White, the journalist whom Jackie summoned immediately to help rescue JFK's legacy. It is his article in Life magazine that drew a connection to the famous Broadway play, that "for one brief shining moment, there was known as Camelot." Here too is Peter Saarsgaard (who acted with Portman in Garden State) as Robert Kennedy, Greta Gerwig as the White House Social Secretary Nancy Tuckerman, John Carroll Lynch as Lyndon Johnson, Richard E. Grant as William Walton (the painter and Kennedy confidante), and in his final performance, John Hurt as an Irish priest comforting Jackie.

Other than Portman's, Hurt's is the most interesting to watch. At first, his performance as the priest comes across as indifferent, like he's consoled too many widows and doesn't have time for one more. Then it seems like he's at least willing to listen, so long as he can spout memorized platitudes about the ubiquity of God. He even does not seem unsure or unwilling to say that "God was in the bullet" that killed JFK when Jackie throws that conundrum at him. By the end, though, it seems that he not only is a decent listener, but his advice is probably as good as one's can be to a person in mourning. "There comes a time in man's search for meaning," he tells her, "when one realizes that there are no answers. And when you come to that horrible, unavoidable realization, you accept it or you kill yourself, or you simply stop searching." He goes on, but I will leave it to the viewer to listen to his voice, and let it serve as a reminder that he will be so very much missed.

The first dialogue in the film, a tense humorless banter session between a grieving widow angry at how the press is handling the aftermath of the assassination, and a journalist (Crudup) confused about what to say and skeptical of how much control Mrs. Kennedy has with the article he's writing sets a sufficient tone. Within moments of the scene, it's clear just how much preparation Portman put into this role, her best work since her Oscar-winning performance in Black Swan. She likely practiced and practiced until she perfected that very wealthy, breathy Mid-Atlantic voice of Jackie's. It's not simply an imitation, but one that requires her to be scared, sad, bitter, confused, angry, comforting, and concerned.

She puts it to best use when we see Jackie fight back against the new administration to make sure JFK gets what she believes to be the most appropriate funeral. She confronts Jack Valenti (the LBJ aide and future president of the Motion Picture Association of America, played here by Max Casella). As she heads out the door, it seems Valenti has won and there will be a more modest procession for safety purposes. But won he has not. Jackie turns back to him. "Mr. Valenti, would you mind getting a message to all of our funeral guests when they arrive?" He will. "Inform them that I will walk with Jack tomorrow--alone if necessary. And tell General De Gaulle that if he wishes to ride in an armored car or in a tank for that matter, I won't blame him. And I'm sure the tens of millions of people watching won't either." Why is she doing this? She's just doing her job, she asserts.

There are expected historical inaccuracies throughout, but overall this is a powerful look at the emotional state of not simply a widow who will raise her children husbandless but of a woman who must face what just about no one else has had to. She must also explain to her two children that their father is gone; she must avoid the nightmares brought by the memory of her husband being shot right in front of her, his brain matter all over the car and his blood on her dress; and she must mourn while the whole world watches. "How do I do this?" she whispers as she walks to the children, ready to tell them the heinous news. She tries the route where she explains that their daddy is in Heaven keeping their baby brother Patrick company. "But what about us?" Caroline asks. Enough of that; change course. It's time for Caroline to be a brave girl. Then Jackie and her brother-in-law watch the alleged murderer answer questions on television.    

Perhaps this is an unexpected story, but Jack's part of the Kennedy story has been told ad nauseum. JFK has been portrayed by Cliff Robertson, Martin Sheen (who has played both JFK and RFK), Bruce Greenwood, Greg Kinnear, James Marsden, Rob Lowe and others. Aside from the 1991 miniseries called A Woman Named Jackie, her story still has been largely untold. Most Americans might simply be able to remember her grace and style, but not much else. Now that most Americans probably have no idea about the context of Camelot, it's apt for a movie like this. And it's done just the right way.

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Bright Lights: Starring Carrie Fisher and Debbie Reynolds

Carrie Fisher and Debbie Reynolds. They were Hollywood royalty, probably the most famous mother and daughter in cinematic history. Here, in the new documentary, we see that they were more than just a mother-daughter relationship. They were best friends, neighbors (literally), co-performers, legends. Bright Lights, directed by Alexis Bloom and director and actor Fisher Stevens (who won an Oscar for The Cove), gives us a glimpse of their bond, just several weeks after both of their tragic deaths.

"A woman who alleges to be my mother," Fisher tells us, lives right next door to her. Their banter as they eat a small meal together is just about perfect, as it is throughout most of the documentary. There's so many important figures in their saga who are alluded to--Elizabeth Taylor, Paul Simon, all the Hollywood memorabilia Reynolds collected over the years. There's mentions of rehab, predictably. Most notable is that dog of Fisher's--Gary, the French bulldog with the gigantic tongue, the dog who was by her side when she suffered a heart attack on a plane from London to Los Angeles. And any documentary that features footage of Singin' in the Rain and Star Wars is worth a watch. But this movie is about them and their love for one another.

Reynolds is called a "tsu-mommy", a woman incapable of slowing down and retiring, although she still uses flip phones. Reynolds says she swill perform until she dies, then she will be stuffed and put in a museum. "Age is horrible for all of us," insists Fisher, "but she falls from a greater height." The term "aged well" is a bit offensive, in my mind, and it's shameful, I think, that Lucasfilm still insisted on Fisher losing weight before the current Star Wars films. That being said, Fisher is almost always seen smoking a cigarette and drinking a Coke, both of which likely account for her lower voice in recent years. Reynolds, however, shows up to parties and pretends that nothing has changed.

There often are jokes, but not particularly good jokes--Debbie's are pretty scripted ("I should have married Burt Reynolds. I wouldn't have to change my name."). Postcards from the Edge, the 1990 film with a screenplay Fisher wrote based on her novel of the same name, is a humorous semi-autobiographical account of Fisher (whose screen persona is played by Meryl Streep) and her mother (played by Shirley MacLaine), but it's nowhere near as funny as Fisher was in real life. She was down-right hysterical and beyond witty. That humor is seen here. Fisher mentions that she is heading to London to film "Star Wars 7...ditwo." And she was also quite the singer, as well. Archival footage of Carrie belting out a decent version of "Bridge Over Troubled Water" (by her future ex-husband, of course) as a teenager is a particular delight.

She goes to fan conventions, and like many stars of many different franchises, she seemed to have a complicated relationship with all the fan frenzy, but in the documentary she appears happy with her many fans. "She's me, and I'm her." The "she" of course is General Leia Organa, one of the most famous characters in film history. Fisher made it known several times her objections to that famous or infamous metal bikini she wore in Return of the Jedi, but she also had a sense of humor about it all. She told Terry Gross in an interview only about a month before her death that one of her favorite things about Comic-Con conventions is all the men in metal bikinis, and not thin or fit men either. "Kind of a before-and-after thing," she told Gross. "This is way after. Not only is Princess Leia fatter, she's a guy."

Todd Fisher, daughter of Carrie and son of Debbie, insists during the film on highlighting the music career of their father, Eddie Fisher, a man who had more consecutive hits than Elvis and the Beatles combined. There's footage of Carrie chatting with her father shortly before his death. It's a noble effort, but the movie is all about these two wonderful women. There's a trippy scene of Fisher in the late 80s (possibly on drugs) singing Christmas songs at the Great Wall of China. Debbie chokes up as she talks about her daughter's voice. Carrie breaks down as it appears her mother might be too frail to attend the Screen Actors Guild Awards in 2014 to receive the Lifetime Achievement Award. (Reynolds was also honored by the Academy Awards in 2015 with the Jean Hersholt Humanitarian Award.) They are all notable moments.

As if 2016 wasn't a cruel enough year, just days before it ended Carrie Fisher passed away after earlier suffering from a heart attack. Her mother, Debbie Reynolds, died the very next day. It was a horrible way to end a horrible year. Perhaps 2017 will be a bit better. Starting off the year by watching this documentary might help make it so.

Photo by Gage Skidmore.

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