There are films you remember enjoying in cinema, some you admire for the technical craft, the scale and spectacle and then there are films which meet you at different points of your life, which reveal something new about you, or the film itself. Barry Jenkin’s second directorial feature, Moonlight, belongs to the latter. Nine years ago, I sat in the smallest screen of my local cinema which had a single 9pm screening and my rewatch was at the back of the BFI IMAX, the first screening of Moonlight in IMAX in the UK. The experience was deeply moving with the scope of IMAX showcasing the film’s incredible cinematography, the score and performances. But what struck me the most about this rewatch is how much I appreciated the film’s exploration of Black male queerness, how it never faltered in showcasing the violence of homophobia and its implications alongside the expectations society has towards masculinity, and how that shapes Chiron through his life.
Moonlight follows a Chiron across three stages of his life. Our introduction to him is as ‘Little’ (Alex Hibbert), as a quiet and timid young boy growing up in Miami with his mother, Paula (Naomie Harris). ‘Little’ is bullied by his peers due to his scrawniness and allegations that he is gay, making him the target for their vitriol and violence. His mother is neglectful of him and struggles with addiction, which leads ‘Little’ to Juan (Mahershala Ali), a local drug dealer and his girlfriend, Teresa (Janelle Monáe). They both provide ‘Little’ with food, money and provide for him as much as they can, to the displeasure of Paula who resents their attempts to care for ‘Little’. The second stage of the film follows him as Chiron (Ashton Sanders), a teenager who again is grappling with his identity, sexuality and the intense bullying he experiences. It is at this point his relationship with his childhood friend, Kevin (Jharrel Jerome) takes on new meaning as they become intimate. He also finds comfort in spending time with Teresa who lives alone after Juan has passed. This relationship is the subject of insecurity for Paula who forces Chiron to give the money Paula provides him to her. Chiron is a victim of a hazing ritual shortly after and reacts violently which leads to his arrest. We then turn to the last and final stage of the film which takes place 11 years with Chiron going by ‘Black’ (Trevante Rhodes). He is muscular and has undergone a shocking physical transformation, and has become a drug dealer in Atlanta. Paula is in rehab and contacts him frequently to visit her. Eventually he does and they reconcile in a tearful moment. He then decides to drive down to Miami to visit Kevin (André Holland) where they catch-up with where the last 11 years have taken them.
Jenkins’ is able to portray the relationship Chiron has with growing up Black and queer in an environment where masculinity has such rigid definitions with homophobia part and parcel of that. As a child, Chiron is still discovering he is who as a person, but the people around him like those who taunt him on the playground are able to define him and put him into the category of ‘other’. The homophobia is present in how they treat him from the slurs and physical intimidation, and Chiron’s timidness fields this. Chiron is never given an opportunity to understand his own sexuality on his own terms which leads to a devastating scene where he asks Juan what a f-slur is. It’s a question which on the surface is not simple and has a clear definition, but it manages to encapsulates the cruelty of how it feels to grow up in a world where words are weaponised to be ashamed of something, someone does not yet understand about themselves. Juan’s response is tender and he informs Chiron that it is a word used to make gay people bad. He is trying to shield Chiron from the homophobia he is beginning to encounter and answering him without ridiculing him meets Chiron with where he is emotionally. Their relationship provides a different definition of masculinity. Juan is tall, muscular and attractive and works as a drug dealer which comes with its own stereotypes. With Chiron, he is affectionate, considerate and offers him a safe space which Chiron does not have in his own life. Most importantly, he lets Chiron be a child, in a way his mother does not. But Juan is also a flawed character who is able to be this tender and kind to Chiron whilst selling drugs to people Paula whose addiction is intrinsically linked to the poverty they live in. Masculinity is not presented as something inherent, but rather it is the culmination of the choices made and relationships built by men like Juan.
This scene really represents the central theme of the film in how masculinity has certain expectations placed upon men and for the men who fail to confirm to this, there are consequences. Chiron is not sure if he is gay, nor has he declared it, he is punished solely for being different. For failing to confirm to the definition of masculinity his peers and society has forced upon him. Everything about his manhood is up for question – how he dresses, his mannerisms with hid timidness and small stature opening him up for more ridicule. In Chiron’s world and for many to this day, homophobia is used to police masculinity and to not conform means risking violence and humiliation. Jenkins does not attempt to suggest that Black masculinity in itself is inherently hostile to queerness nor is Chiron just a gay character, rather, Chiron’s queerness, his mother’s addiction, the poverty he lives in and the expectations placed upon young Black men shape what his life path is and the opportunities he can take.
Chiron’s relationship with Paula also showcases how Chiron’s struggles are not only with masculinity and queerness, but also how a volatile home life filled with cruelty, neglect and downright hostility affects him. For some, home is a refuge from the bullying they experience and in Chiron’s case should be a refuge also from the homophobia he experiences, but Paula uses homophobic language against him which drives home the fact, that Chiron has no safe space other than his visits to Juan and Theresa. Chiron is surrounded by people whose words and actions mean he cannot be himself or fully vulnerable without facing consequences and the film does not attempt to levy blame at one person, it accumulates. And this is where I found so much beauty in the beach scene between Chiron and Kevin in the second stage of the film. Both boys share an intimate moment and they are shielded by their idyllic setting from the bullying and scrutiny of their peers. Chiron can exist without having to justify or defend himself. Their conversation turns to something physical and it is the first time Chiron can experience desire and intimacy without judgement.
The camera work in particular brings life to this scene, the two teenagers can exist together and the moment feels deeply moving with shots lingering on their faces and snippets of their intimate interaction. Jenkins and Director of Photography (DOP), James Laxton both understand the significance of this scene lays in how they look and interact with each other and that words are not needed to express their feelings. Black men have been and continue to be stereotyped in media focusing on their stoicism, strength and physical stature, queer Black men do not have many stories about them and Moonlight showcases queer Black intimacy. The camera looks at Chiron with the tenderness the world around him ignores.
Moonlight is also uplifted by its technical aspects, specifically cinematography and score. The visual imagery of the film is gorgeous and works hand-in-hand with the film’s emotional imagery. It is a vivid and vibrant film filled with hues of blue and I recall on my first time watching it, that it felt like a painting. The imagery of the film is in the blue of the ocean, the purple of the nighttime and the warmth in how each Black actor is lit properly. The film is one of the first pieces of media where I saw darker skin be lit properly. On my first watch, I could not fully appreciate the score and its place in the film. There is so much intentionality in how the score was constructed with the use of classic orchestration featuring the piano, violin and cello with the chopped and screwed technique Britell used to create sounds that echoed the sounds of hip-hop.
And the performances of each version of Chiron tie the film together. Alex Hibbert’s ‘Little’ captures the uncertainty of not knowing your place in your world, where others are defining it for you. He is intently quiet, hesitant in the way he moves and his interactions with others around him are underpinned by fear and uncertainty in how he is received. His quietness would make it incredibly easy to make him devoid of any personality, but we see his vulnerability and we see how much he craves to be loved with his relationships with Juan and Theresa. Ashton Saunders takes this and brings in the frustration and self-consciousness associated with a teenager who is fully aware of how the world views him and must further reconcile who is he with who society wants expects of him. He feels guarded, rarely interacting with others and yet, he is capable of such tenderness in his relationship with Kevin. Trevante Rhodes’ performance feel like a facade. It feels constructed with the awareness that age brings – you must look a certain way to fit in and avoid being hurt. His physical transformation is radical but what makes his performance so effective is that he does not shout or scream or use his size much to intimidate. He feels deeply awkward as all versions of Chiron do, similar to ‘Little’ he is also hesitant in how he moves in the world he operates within and this hints that his exteriority is manufactured. It is a testament to Barry Jenkins and all three actors that Chiron throughout each stages of life feels like the same person who has changed through the different stages due to his age and various experiences.
I am fully aware there are some people who are set against rewatching films, but had I not rewatched Moonlight, I would not have been able to fully appreciate the film’s themes and its beauty. And with the perspective of being nine years older and having various life experiences including being the ‘other’ due to certain parts of my identity, I deeply related to Chiron’s experiences in a way that fifteen-year-old me could not. The film’s depiction of tenderness, loneliness and masculinity moved me more and reminded me, that beneath the armour we construct for ourselves for self-preservation, there are parts of us which remain unchanged. The final scene of Moonlight is particular illuminating in how it shows that Chiron can be accepted and he deserved to be love for the person he has always been, not the person he has forced himself to become.
