Seeing himself in ‘Moonlight’
The standing ovation at the end of a Toronto International Film Festival screening “Moonlight” was long and loud. The Q&A was lively. Then festival artistic director Cameron Bailey, moderating the discussion, called for a last question. “The grayhaired gentleman — Jonathan Demme, what is your question?”
It is not typical for a filmmaker on the rise to field queries from a storied film director in such a public setting, but that is the position that writer-director Barry Jenkins finds himself with his second feature, an adaptation of Tarell McCraney’s play “In Moonlight Black Boys Look Blue,” about a young boy named Chiron growing up in Miami during the 1980s crack epidemic.
Eight years ago, Jenkins made a striking debut with “Medicine for Melancholy,” an Independent Spirit Award nominee set in his then-home of San Francisco, a relationship drama that also examined gentrification and its impact on the African American community.
With “Moonlight,” he explores the personal once again. He and McCraney never knew each other, but they grew up within blocks of each other in Miami. The environment that Chiron navigates is one he knows well.
The following Q&A is culled from conversations in Toronto and San Francisco. Q: You walked the same streets in reality that Chiron walks in the movie. What are your memories of growing up in that neighborhood? A: I didn’t realize that I had a rough childhood or a dark childhood, until I started meeting other people who told me about their rough childhoods, and I was like, “That is not rough at all.” I kind of remember it like those kids playing in the grass in the movie.
It’s funny, Tarell and I were talking about this, about how the movie is somewhat more autobiographical for him than it is for me, but then his personality and the character’s personality are different . ... So I think when you watch the film, there’s this divergence where it’s Tarell’s story, but now I’m putting more of my personality into Chiron. Where he’s not really speaking. He’s not really emoting.
When I think about growing up there, I’m sort of not participating. Kind of like being in the world, but watching it, observing. Q: What was it like returning to the neighborhood
“Mahershala also has the athlete’s hunger for excellence and a sense of commitment to his own inner voice and his own inner possibilities that a writer has.” Rebecca Engle, professor, St. Mary’s College
after so many years?
A: When I went back, a lot had changed, but a lot was the same. I guess I had changed. I had to reimmerse myself in the neighborhood and re-prove that I was who I was. The only things that really film there often are the show “The First 48,” it’s an A&E show, kind of in the style of “Cops,” but elevated. A homicide happens. They follow the detectives for the first 48 hours. It’s showing the worst aspects of the neighborhood.
So when we showed up, people were like, “The only people who come around here are people who want to exploit us.” There was this great process of the neighborhood getting used to me, me getting reintegrated into the neighborhood, and the neighborhood realizing that we were telling a story that was rooted in the place.
Q: Do you see a connection between this film and “Medicine for Melancholy?” A: You know, it’s all about place. I think about “Medicine” and how gray that film is. It’s because that was sort of my emotional response to San Francisco at the time. It just made me feel very gray. I think you watch “Moonlight” and you can see that Miami made me feel very alive. It’s a place where things blossom. This movie is about where I’m from. It’s the same sense of place in a certain way, but I think it’s more of a reckoning with who I
am.
Q: What do you think about the movie coming out at this time? The country is in such an odd state right now.
A: It takes a long time to make a film. So whatever it is that is happening right now, the seeds for it were planted many, many years ago. Particularly all these movies that are being framed as filling this vacuum, as a response to lack of diversity and “Oscar So White.” What I see in that is the will of these filmmakers, these storytellers, to have their voices heard. It was a response to an actual feeling, the actual lack of those voices.
I used to say the world is on fire. I’m not sure the world is on fire, but I think there’s never been a more appropriate time for people to be telling actual, personal, passionate stories. I think that’s what we need right now.