Director J.C. Chandor seems to be chronicling a recent history of America through its economic downfall. In 2011 he was one of the first filmmakers to tackle the recession in Margin Call, which centered on the actions of the employees at a Wall Street investment bank, as their world came tumbling down. In 2013 with All Is Lost he created one of the most complex allegories about American fears as he had Mr. Hollywood himself - Robert Redford - slowly sink to the bottom of the ocean after his yacht collides with an aimless Chinese shipping container. While the initial metaphor was a little too obvious, watching the fear, pride and eventual surrender in Redford’s face was a revelation. No other director has ever used the film icon like this, which made for an even more powerful event.
In A Most Violent Year, Chandor continues examining American economy by going to 1981, considered to be the most violent year in New York City history, where we meet Abel Morales (Oscar Isaac) a hardworking immigrant trying to succeed in his heating-oil business by adhering to his values and traditions, despite the fact that his trucks are constantly being hijacked by armed robbers. Tensions rise as he tries to close on a piece of real estate, and the robberies force him to seek out loans and other honest resources, which seems to irk those around him who desperately want to see him recur to the underworld.
There’s a stubborn district attorney (David Oyelowo) convinced that Morales is up to no good, Abel’s lawyer Andrew (Albert Brooks in another subdued scene stealing performance) who suggests the worst might be in store for him, a terrified driver (Elyes Gabel) who decides to take justice on his own hands and even Abel’s wife, Ana (Jessica Chastain) seems to be rooting for him to fall into the easy path of crime.
Despite its soft soundscape, subdued acting and elegant cinematography, Chandor injects the film with ceaseless tension, to the point where it almost becomes like a very quiet thriller. There is not a single moment in the film where you’re not dreading just what’s around the corner, and while nothing “big” ever happens in the traditional movie sense, there are dozens of details that make A Most Violent Year worth another visit.
The ensemble is particularly great, with Isaac becoming an Al Pacino-esque figure, all eyes, hair and shoulders, a sad Michael Corleone always on the brink of sinking under despair. While Chandor doesn’t specifically say so in the screenplay - at least not in the dialogues throughout the film - Isaac brings a sense of fear to his part related to the fact that he’s an immigrant, a fear which is rarely addressed by American filmmakers unless they’re pairing those characters with white saviors, and a fear which ought to decrease given the constant social changes in the country. If Chandor is suggesting those were present three decades ago, or if he’s grabbing on to a relevant issue isn’t as clear, but nonetheless worthy of discussions after the film.
Chastain equally allows her character to bypass mob doll stereotypes, and beyond her fur coats, long nails and Long Island accent finds the soul of Ana, a soul that might be darker than the actress has ever let us see before. It’s interesting that Chandor doesn’t hide the inspirations for his characters, Abel coming from The Godfather and Ana from Scarface. The fact that he allows them to be so recognizable adds the film an even deeper layer, about how cinematic tropes have aided in perpetuating an idea of American economic success or failure. Your parents’ movies American dream this ain’t.
