Just saw “Brooklyn.” Here is my review:
GO SEE IT. Now. I’ve even provided you with easy access to the showtimes. Don’t even read the rest of this article first. Look up a showtime, go see it, then come back here and enjoy reliving some of the film’s finer moments.
Colors: Beautiful. Every shot. This whole film seems bathed in a pure light. I don’t know much about how lighting works, but I know something special when I see it. You know that feeling when you’re standing out on an open field, or on a boat, and there is just enough white cloud in the sky so that the sun disperses everywhere, evenly, coolly, without being obscured? That’s how the film looked. Bright, white, clean, clear. Pale blues. True reds. Natural greens. Milky whites. Matte blacks.
Costumes: Tailored, post-war (1952 to be exact), chic. Restrained yet seductive. I think the climax of the movie may have been the moment a certain young lady virgin removes her retro-designer business-casual ensemble to reveal a silk camisole, garter belt, underwear, stockings and bralette the color of vanilla ice-cream lit by moonlight reflected off the wings of a swan while your eyeballs are injected with Molly. Yep. That good.
I mean, I don’t know about you, but when I would see old pictures of ladies in their old-fashioned three-piece-skirt suits, my mind didn’t imagine their undergarments. I assumed they wore granny panties. I assumed that even though they had 25 year old faces, they had 67 year old bodies. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, I just am not that old yet. So to see that so much ceremony extended to lingerie hit me in the- in the heart.
Granted, the character might not wear such nice underwear everyday. Maybe her woman’s intuition told her that “tonight’s gonna be a good, good night.” But even her “casual” underwear, her day-to-day garter and thigh-high stockings and lace undershirt are a whole lot more romantic than the average low-right bikini or thong from Victoria’s Secret.
The acting was fabulous. So much emotion, but so little exaggeration. This movie was build on high stakes, like one of those beach houses on stilts. No room for apathy. Every tear deserved.
There was plenty of humor, too. And Jessica Pare.
The music was delightful. The story was uplifting. There was suspense, sadness, joy, and a glimpse of Long Island when it still looked like the wilderness.
Please, do yourself a favor and go. Take a loved one so you can hold each other’s hands tenderly and be grateful to be alive.