If Armageddon is viewed as the end of life as we know it, that’s also an apt description of the rude awakening experienced by an adolescent, the first time s/he is confronted by the world’s harsh realities.
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| When the emotional complexities of adolescence prove overwhelming, Paul (Banks Repeta, left) knows that he can count on understanding and benevolent wisdom from his Grampa Aaron (Anthony Hopkins). |
Writer/director James Gray’s delicately nuanced, semi-autobiographical drama is both familiar and painfully intimate. It’s an excellent companion piece to Steven Spielberg’s The Fabelmans, with a similar focus on interpersonal dynamics and emotionally shattering revelations. Both families are Jewish, and this heritage plays a strong role in their lives. Both sets of parents have worked hard to be upwardly mobile, determined to create better opportunities for their children.
But whereas Spielberg’s protagonist ultimately finds release in artistic expression, it’s not entirely clear that Gray’s young alter-ego will be similarly successful.
His achingly poignant narrative gets additional punch from the well-crafted work by young Banks Repeta, starring here as Paul Graff. Film dramas often take place at a remove, with viewers aware of the distance between themselves and the characters on screen. Thanks to Gray’s sensitive direction, Repeta’s complex performance — and similarly excellent work from the supporting cast — that sense of distance vanishes.
We frequently feel like interlopers, somehow eavesdropping on real-world events taking place in a home just a few doors down from our own.
The time is autumn 1979, the setting New York City at its worst. Paul lives with his parents Irving (Jeremy Strong) and Esther (Anne Hathaway), and older brother Ted (Ryan Sell), in a semi-detached two-family row house in Flushing, Queens. The story begins as Paul begins his first day of sixth grade at the local public school, where he immediately stakes out a reputation as a disruptor.
He’s intelligent and funny, but not particularly attentive.
Paul’s tendency toward disrespect continues at home, where he’s an insufferably picky eater, battles constantly with his brother, and frequently talks back to his mother. The Graff home — and dinner table — often are boisterous affairs laden with grandparents and other aging relatives. Paul’s behavior skates, in part, because his beloved Grandpa Aaron (Anthony Hopkins) understands that the boy still is finding himself.
Even so, while Paul remains a sympathetic character — for the most part — he often isn’t likable. (Not unusual for a kid that age.)
At school, on that first day, Paul bonds with Johnny (Jaylin Webb), similarly inclined to challenge authority. But Johnny has much more cause; he’s the only Black student in the class, and has been forced to repeat sixth grade under the watchful gaze of the same teacher — Andrew Polk, as Mr. Turkeltaub — who held him back the previous year.
Turkeltaub is the worst sort of teacher; he does nothing to inspire his students, either as individuals or a group, and apparently believes that rote memorization and recitation are the sole keys to learning. It’s a thankless role, which Polk plays to wincing perfection. (Sad to say, most of us had at least one similarly awful teacher, and Polk’s performance resurrected long-dormant but still painful memories of mine.)
Turkeltaub also clearly despises Johnny … although this may be more personal, than reflexively racist. That said, Johnny certainly feels that it’s racist.
The boys become fast friends, with a shared interest in space and music. We learn little about Johnny’s home life, aside from the fact that he lives with a grandmother who probably is sliding into dementia, and therefore pays little attention to him; effectively, he’s on his own.
Unfortunately, the boys aren’t necessarily good for each other, in the sense that this friendship encourage their worst instincts.
But the playing field isn’t level: a crucial fact of which Paul is oblivious. He swans through life, secure in the knowledge that his mother, president of the PTA, can fix any trouble he might create at school; she similarly intercedes when his father, wound tighter than a watch spring, might get physical.
And if all else fails, Grandpa Aaron can be relied upon to back Paul up, when he and his parents disagree.
But Johnny has no such support system, and our recognition of this disparity anticipates the arc of Gray’s storyline. (Much to our chagrin.)
Repeta is bright-eyed and animated, alternately cheerful and scornful, his hair always a disheveled mess. He softens in the company of Grandpa Aaron, their heart-to-heart exchanges giving this film much of its emotional power.
Hopkins’ quietly dignified performance is sublime: the grandfather we’d all love to have.
Esther is the epitome of nervous tension; she never, ever stops to rest. Not content with raising a family, working as a home econ teacher, and her PTA duties, she’s considering a run for a seat on the district school board. Hathaway’s performance is twitchy and agitated, her demeanor brittle.
But as this story proceeds, the energy with which Esther charges into each situation begins to diminish, her idealism crumbling in the face of events outside their protective home.
And yet — this is important — despite Paul’s occasional disrespect, Esther adores him, and becomes increasingly worried that he won’t find his place in the world: particularly because he wants to become an artist, and has no interest in the high-profile career path his parents keep pushing.
Strong’s Irving is terrifying, and — when unleashed — physically abusive to a point that becomes difficult to forgive. Granted, this is four decades-plus ago, when strong smacks were an accepted part of a parent’s child-rearing arsenal … but still. This rage seems to come from nowhere; only as the third act concludes, do we finally see a softer, more reflective side of Irving (but I’m not sure that compensates for previous behavior).
Johnny is the ultimate tragic figure: hip to his place in the world, due to skin color, far sooner than any child should be forced to confront such injustice. Webb’s cocky posture masks Johnny’s resignation to The Way Of Things; his stricken and defeated gaze, at times, is heartbreaking.
Everything comes to a head during the aforementioned third act, when Gray draws extraordinarily powerful performances from both Repeta and Webb. It’s the climax anticipated and feared, but that doesn’t make it any less catastrophic.
Gray includes a couple of jabs that resonate strongly now, given our awareness of what was to come. Maryanne Trump — Jessica Chastain, in a hissable cameo — speaks at a school assembly, giving a hypocritical “You can rise from nothing, like we did” speech, when in fact her entire family rose from “nothing” but privilege.
A fleeting TV clip, taken from televangelist Jim Bakker’s 1979 interview with Ronald Reagan, finds the latter wondering aloud if this will be “the generation that sees Armageddon” (an atrociously irresponsible comment from somebody about to be elected president of the United States).
The sense of time and place is enhanced by cinematographer Darius Khondji, whose washed-out color palette and “flatness” echo late 1970s and early ’80s cinema; the result gives the illusion that this film was made as these events actually unfolded.
Gray ultimately leaves Paul to face one of two pathways, based on the advice of his elders. For his parents and older-gen relatives, the most important thing is “getting a seat at the table.” But Grandpa Aaron’s message is different: “Never give in to those bastards.”
And, he adds, if you reflect and feel guilty about past behavior, resolve to do better the next time.
Words to live by.
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