Natalie Portman excels in this stunning, visceral look at one of America’s most iconic women.
There’s perhaps no more famous First Lady in American history than Jackie Kennedy, the kindhearted and fashionable wife of John F. Kennedy, who stayed lovingly by his side during his presidency, and worked feverishly to honor his legacy in the days following his assassination. That story, in the wrong hands, could have been the kind of cold and emotionless biopic that most filmmakers would have simply bunted with, and still somehow managed to receive awards attention because of its subject matter alone. But that’s not Jackie, which coming from Chilean director Pablo Larrain is a haunting and poetic portrait of one of America’s most famous female figures. Luckily for all of us, it’s also one of the best films of the year.
Taking an unusual approach to its story, Noah Oppenheim’s script follows Jackie at different periods in her life, most taking place in the days and weeks following JFK’s assassination. There are some exceptions, which include occasional flashbacks to her life in the White House with her husband before he was killed, and during the filming of her iconic White House tour video. In case that wasn’t enough, the entirety of the film is then framed within the context of an interview Jackie gives with Billy Crudup’s journalist, in her attempt to tell the true story of her husband’s presidency and why she chose to honor him in the grand, operatic manor she did.
Swaying back and forth with a feverish intensity between the assassination itself and the ripples it left throughout America, Larrain and Oppenheim choose their moments of showing you the assassination with care and understanding. Where other filmmakers might have resorted to cheaper tactics, Larrain trusts the viewer to understand the full emotional effects of JFK’s death without ever having to spend much time on the actual event itself. With Mica Levi’s unsettling strings playing over a majority of the film, Larrain chooses to focus more on the repercussions of JFK's death than anything else, so that when he chooses to actually show you it the scenes are allowed their full dramatic weight.
All of the film hinges on Natalie Portman’s performance as Kennedy, who, even after her prior extraordinary screen work, has never been better. Allowing for some time to adjust to her voice as the character, this is her most wholly transformative performance to date. She plays Jackie not just as a figurehead in American society, but as a woman dealing with an unknowable amount of tragedy and grief, contemplating on her and her husband’s legacy. Larrain keeps the camera close to her at all times, and as Portman dances around the empty rooms of the White House, slightly tipsy and in fancy dresses while old recordings of “Camelot” fill out the scene, you can’t help but feel moved by what you’re seeing.
All of the rest of the film’s actors also turn in notable performances, including Peter Sarsgaard as a mournful Bobby Kennedy and Crudup as the Journalist tasked with navigating his way through Jackie’s many walls. Sarsgaard in particular shines in one scene, where Bobby laments about all the things JFK could have done as President had he not been killed. “What are we, just the beautiful people?,” he asks, and you can’t help but understand his concerns.
There are moments when the visuals feel like they may have taken precedence over some scenes, where Larrain’s placement of his actors and his camera feel staged and inauthentic. Some moments in particular with John Hurt’s Priest, who meets with Jackie in private to discuss her life and legacy, can feel out of place, and in a film that bounces around from moment to moment so gracefully these scenes have the power to take you out of the overall experience of the film. The same can be said for some scenes in which characters seem to be more self-aware than is realistic.
In the end, however, these are small flaws in what is inarguably a stunning accomplishment from all involved, a film that defies all biopic standards and tropes so much that it feels wrong to even categorize it as one. Gorgeous and emotional, Jackie is the kind of introspective film about American history that just doesn’t come around very often.
The Verdict
There’s a brief moment in Jackie, when Portman recalls the gunshots that rang out through the air before the 35th President of the United States fell dead into her lap. She describes it as sounding like a car backfiring, but if you didn’t know any better, you might mistake it for the sound of a bat perfectly connecting with a baseball. The silence that resounds and encompasses all of the film afterwards, is proof enough of the home run hit that Larrain and Portman have scored here.
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