The best film that premiered in Boston this weekend is not the adaptation of a famous Stephen King novel, which I saw yesterday, but Columbus, which will be playing at the Brattle Theater until Thursday, September 14th, 2017. Columbus is not a reference to the historical figure or a city in Ohio, but a city in Indiana with amazing architecture in which the film unfolds. It is a simple and beautiful film that calmly features remarkable performances without sensationalism.
Columbus is about the art of knowing how to be fully yourself in whatever space you occupy and when you should stay in that space or know that it is time to leave it. There are two main characters: Casey, a young, smart woman who has never left her small town though her talents obviously surpass the opportunities available to her, and Jin, a man who is forced to come to the town to deal with a personal matter out of a begrudging sense of duty. Her hunger for more makes her curious about this visitor so she gives him a cigarette, and they begin a dialogue about architecture that leads to epiphanies about what each should do next.
Columbus features an intergenerational, opposite sex relationship that never devolves into a romance, which I am grateful for. They are incredibly different people who teach each other valuable lessons without feeling schmaltzy or like an afterschool special, but they share a common problem: how to move on emotionally from a psychological pain caused by an incident or a dynamic that no longer exists. The psychological pain is more real than the present and stops them from moving forward so they are living in the past while occupying the present time and space. Without a stranger showing them what others with a vested interest and a closer relationship has already advised, they would never take that advice and align their mental with their physical state. The movie shows how a relationship with a stranger gives each person a new insight into what they have taken for granted. They begin to move from opposite ends of experience, live in the present and meet in the center to strike a balance between duty to self and others. In a sense, they trade places and exchange characteristics.
When I saw Columbus tonight, Kogonada, the director of Columbus, was present to answer questions after the film. His visual style reminded me of Hirokazu Koreeda, one of my favorite living film directors. Kogonada cited the influence of Yasujiro Ozu, whom other critics have referenced when discussing Koreeda’s work so clearly I need to check Ozu out. The composition of each scene is rigorously disciplined, and the camera is static. When one of the characters describes a church, she says that it is asymmetrical, but still balanced, which is a great way to describe his work.
Kogonada chooses to use his camera like the architecture shown in the film. The shot is static, but the people can move freely within the space. We cannot see everything or use the camera like our head to see what interests us even if we can hear action occurring off camera. We have to sit patiently and attentively, wait for something to enter the frame and pay close attention to every part of the shot or find a mirror to look at the reflection if we want to know more. His use of mirrors reminded me of Pedro Almodovar’s early films.
Kogonada revisits different sites like a reprise in a silent song. Like Chantal Akerman, through repetition in location, he forces us to notice what we are seeing and what we see gives us more insight into the characters’ lives. Another character asserts that society has a crisis of interest, not attention, and the film is a challenge to resolve this crisis in ourselves, to force ourselves into uncomfortable spaces in order to grow, to look at things differently. This rigorous composition also helps us relate to the main characters that feel trapped in a space or limited by circumstances. While we are in a beautiful cage, it is still uncomfortable to not be able to look around the corner or explore. The composition, like life, does not permit closure or control, but demands that we find a way to function in that space.
Columbus succeeds in depicting different types of grief in the absence of death: loss of innocence, opportunity, individuality, understanding, freedom, joy, safety, and relationship. It also explores the theme of guilt. The interplay of the two main characters and then the main characters with the important people in their life shows and does not tell what is missing in the other main character’s life. Casey enjoys having a close relationship with her mother and enjoys her coworkers. Jin has luxury, resources and is comfortable with having unconventional desires. Jin needs intimacy, and Casey needs to give herself more.
Columbus not only features beautiful visuals, but exquisite performances. I have always loved Parker Posey, but Kogonada elicits a vulnerability that I have never seen her showcase before. She is chic as always and still wields a commanding cadence, but she also displays an emotional range that anchors and sets the tone of the film. She is implicitly the main characters’ goal post while simultaneously evolving in the space that she occupies—a place of transition between her stable existing life and out of overwhelming gratitude and emotion for her mentor.
Kogonada revealed that Columbus cast John Cho before #StarringJohnCho began trending. I’ve always been frustrated that as hot as Cho is, he usually is restricted to supporting roles. Kogonada finally gives Cho the classic Hollywood treatment that he deserves by giving him a mature role and center stage. While I adore the Brattle Theater (it is a beneficiary in my will), I am slightly outraged that as aesthetically superb as Columbus is and as famous as Cho is, the film is only getting a limited run at a small independent theater. If films and actors were judged on merit, Columbus and Cho would get more attention, money and accolades.
The star of Columbus is Haley Lu Richardson, whom I did not recognize though I saw her in Split and The Bronze, two films that I really liked. She is probably the youngest actor on set with the least experience, but as the lead, her performance was perfect, and I completely related to her character, especially the final scene in the car. As her relationship to architecture transforms from the intellectual to the personal, her confident persona reveals an obsessive one rooted in concern and trauma.
If you have an opportunity to see Columbus in theaters, do so because such an exquisitely crafted film deserves your undivided attention and a big screen. Kogonada is such a perfectionist when it comes to space ratios that he noticed the screen at the Brattle Theater was slightly cropped and inadvertently cut off some of his shots. Clearly the small screen would not do it justice, but if that is the only way that you can see Columbus, then if I may tweak G. K. Chesterton’s famous quote, then it is worth seeing it in less than ideal circumstances.
