Nominated for 6 Oscar categories in 2017, including Best Picture, Kenneth Lonergan's drama asserts one thing: there are no rosy scenarios and easy healing when faced with the loss of loved ones.
Every Oscar season, I have a habit of trying to find and watch all the Best Picture nominees to keep up with the times and introduce the outstanding works of the past year. I remember that year, after watching Kenneth Lonergan's film, I was hesitant to praise it. I was afraid of inadvertently encouraging loved ones to watch it and subjecting them to the suffering the film brings.
Looking back after 7 years, I still find Manchester By The Sea to be one of the most impressive Best Picture nominees since I first encountered it. I'm not sure if it's because it's an exceptionally well-made drama with stellar performances from the cast, or simply because the film's sadness haunted me to the extent that I consider it a directorial talent. Lonergan not only portrays a slice of life but also captures the pains of humanity like knives cutting into the wrist.
The town of lingering wounds
If I had to summarize Manchester By The Sea succinctly, I would say that someone dies at the beginning of the film, but it's not until the end of the film that the funeral takes place.
With such a brief sentence, those who haven't watched it would still vaguely guess the film's plot revolves around the loss of a loved one, as well as the struggle to overcome that pain. The main character of the film is Lee Chandler (portrayed by Casey Affleck, who won the Best Actor Oscar for this role), a janitor in Boston. One cold winter day, Lee receives news that his brother Joe has suddenly passed away in their hometown of Manchester-by-the-Sea, a small town in New England.
Joe's sudden departure forces Lee to confront two major issues: He will become the guardian of his nephew Patrick and may have to stay in this town for quite some time to settle his brother's affairs, a place where Lee has fled to forget his tragic past.
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| The contrast between Lee's past and present |
But the Lee of the past is completely different: lively, playful, always laughing, and wholeheartedly loving his family. Contrary to a survivalist who barely cracks a smile in Boston is a seaside youth with a sun-kissed face and a beer in hand on a fishing boat in Manchester-by-the-Sea. This contrast is so stark that the audience is drawn into those memories and raises many questions for Lee. What is this man's issue? What could change a person so much?
It's not until the latter half of the film that the audience gets the answer. Lee fled his hometown to forget a ton of tragedy that his ex-wife Randi (Michelle Williams) poured onto him. For all those years, Lee has never forgiven himself for that.
Manchester-by-the-Sea is a deep pit of guilt and painful memories that he wants to forget. The winter setting doesn't make the film brighter, as Joe's burial cannot take place when the ground is covered in snow. By the time the truth is revealed, the audience slowly begins to understand Lee's psyche as he grapples with horrifying emotions at once.
However, the story of pain is warmed by the relationship between Lee and his nephew Patrick (Lucas Hedges, the new prince of indie films). Lee is torn between two choices: either stay to become the legal guardian for his nephew, who has no family, or continue to flee from that haunting town.
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| Lee and Patrick |
The uncle-nephew relationship is deeply explored throughout the film as an "odd couple" or "tough love." Constant conflicts arise between them, partly because they both carry deep emotional wounds and partly because their presence triggers unpleasant memories from the past.
Lee shows frustration with Patrick's lifestyle, as sometimes he seems indifferent to his father's death and focuses on relationships with friends instead. Patrick resists being estranged from his uncle for so long and controlling his life, even demanding to move to Boston, away from the community he has been attached to since childhood. Thus, both are trapped in their negative emotions in a place that seems to only exacerbate their psychological wounds.
To vividly depict this, Kenneth Lonergan ensures that "time" and "silence" are the greatest enemies to suffocate those in misery who are trying to reconcile with it.
When time and silence are the most formidable enemies of pain
The director is a master of pacing. Throughout Manchester By The Sea, Kenneth Lonergan squeezes the hearts of characters and audiences with a storytelling style grounded in realism: no sugarcoating of pain.
Just 10 minutes into the film, audiences will easily recognize its heaviness: Lee opens the door of the morgue to look at his brother's body one last time. The static shot focuses on the character's emotions as he grapples with loss. Although this is an emotionally charged scene that may make many uncomfortable, the cinematography keeps the audience glued to the image of the body lying on the table, as Joe solemnly takes a long pause, approaches, strokes his brother's face, leans down to embrace, lightly kisses his brother's forehead, and begins to cry.
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| If Lonergan uses time as a blade, then silence is the bullet |
Death is always a taboo subject in Western media culture. In many films, death is portrayed swiftly and superficially. A phone call announcing the news is followed by a funeral scene with a few tears shed. Then comes the condolence gathering at the protagonist's home, and everything moves on quickly, leaving the loss behind.
Lonergan seems to despise this common, hasty depiction of death. For him, the pain of losing a loved one and the process of coping and grieving are never quick or easy. But if time is like a knife, then silence is the bullet that inflicts just as much damage.
Firstly, there's the absence of dialogue in some scenes. For example, when Lee receives the sad news via a phone call from his hometown. He picks up the phone, standing in silence. There's no dialogue from the other end, no dramatic music; the audience only hears a few empty responses from Lee. Even the long pauses in conversations help deepen the characters' psychological states, like the scene where Lee and a woman try to talk and understand each other better. This use of silence not only highlights the actors' internal performances but also depicts the wounded souls that always feel time passing so slowly, akin to torture.
Next, let's talk about the music. The film avoids the typical melodramatic style by steering clear of emotionally manipulative music. There are no "sad music playing, tears falling" scenes; the tears in the film are very real, not romanticized or emotionally forced. The characters in the film remain composed when the audience expects them to break down, and they break down when the audience thinks they're most composed. The absence of music directs the audience's attention entirely to the characters' reactions to their world.
One of the most poignant scenes in the film is when Patrick discovers the frozen meat in the refrigerator and suddenly bursts into tears like a child in the middle of the night. He is horrified at the thought of his father lying in the morgue, waiting to be buried in the spring. This outburst occurs naturally, like a documentary capturing human emotions, without any staging or cues.
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| The characters remain composed when the audience expects them to break down, and break down when the audience thinks they are most composed. |
Next is the scene where Lee and his ex-wife Randi meet again, as Randi tries to express her feelings after years of separation. Despite being the one leading the conversation, Randi breaks down as her words are choked up by emotions, and by the way Lee pushes her away. Similarly, there's the moment when Lee, the seemingly driest character in the film, collapses into a nurse's arms and cries after being cared for following a fight. In all these segments, music is absent, leaving the audience to be moved by the raw emotions, and the camera angles refrain from glorifying the "beauty of tears" in an empty display.
Healing has never been easy
From the beginning of the film, audiences always expect a bright ending, from winter to spring, from loss to life, from brokenness to healing. According to the norm, perhaps audiences also hope that the relationship between Patrick and Lee will help them overcome life's pains and live a better life. The ideal ending would be the two cousins living together and loving each other like a family. Lee would also decide to return to Manchester-by-the-Sea, leaving the past behind.
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| Healing has never been easy |
Unfortunately, Lonergan does not stand for such a perfect healing. His belief in psychological recovery after loss is not the kind of colorful, warm, and loving recovery. It's a slow but inevitable recovery of life. Despite loving his nephew, Lee still decides to leave Manchester-by-the-Sea with just one sentence: "I can't beat it." It's as if he's emphasizing that he still can't overcome the pain of the past. That's Lonergan's realistic and somewhat ruthless approach, yet it gives the film a very authentic, lifelike flavor.
And amidst all the pain, the film concludes with a dialogue full of hope for the future of the two cousins, with the sunshine signaling a warm spring, and Patrick taking his father's boat out to sea.