“Manchester by the Sea” is absolutely the most powerful movie I have seen in a very long time. It just won’t leave me alone. I am not surprised that it has received so many Oscar nominations.
It’s not fast-moving, but rather a character study, observing meticulously how human beings react under the stressful situations that occur in life. Every detail is critical. You shouldn’t miss, for example, how the sound recording adds to the naturalism: the familiar beeping and burring of the microwave that is somehow louder than the protagonists speaking. As in real life.
The movie shares its main theme with last year’s 3D drama, “Everything will be fine“, namely, to what extent are we as human beings entirely responsible for the unimaginably painful and dark tragedies that we are capable of causing? I’m pleased to say that the writer-director, Kenneth Lonergan, does not really give us the answer. He leaves it to the audience to delve deep for something remotely conclusive. Which is maybe one of the reasons why the film just won’t leave you alone.
It is not an exaggeration to say that every actor acts to perfection. Just watch the expressions on the face of the hospital nurse (who has almost no lines!) when Lee’s brother dies, or observe the convincing smugness of Patrick’s mum’s new husband. And yes, does his mum, a cured alcoholic, really go and have a quick drink in the kitchen during dinner? Wonderful, how this is all left to the audience to deduct.
I don’t know about you, but I too, like Lee, have made the most awful mistake in my life. The consequences of this mistake have been absolutely devastating for all concerned, and most probably for a lifetime. As in the movie, it is impossible to avoid the question: how can we do such awful things to those we love the most?
Today in particular, I carry both the pain and responsibility for my actions and would do everything to turn back time. But I can’t.
So what can be done? The answer to this question can be found both throughout “Manchester by the Sea” and in the closing scene. It’s by no means a neat, clean, satisfying answer. It’s messy. It’s a an answer that reveals how a dynamic web of dysfunctionality kicks in once a major crisis has happened.
My doctor said to me two weeks ago, “As Einstein said, we cannot live in the past. We must live in the future. Every crisis in life, both for the perpetrator and the victims, is an opportunity to learn and to create a new way of living life better. If we are open to that.”
My enduring hope is that she’s right.
