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fosermi · 3 years

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Y'know that drawing I posted yesterday?

Yeah that has a mini story that goes with it! I'm actually really afraid of posting it... but here I am anyway! I hope this can clarify things a bit better! And please do remember that if it makes anyone uncomfortable then please to tell me so I can take this down...

I do hope you can enjoy it, this is in no way meant to be disrespectful or offending, this is just someone I thought of during a very bad day...

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Fear…

It's such a powerful thing…

If one can control many with a single glance, then they have mastered fear. They have made it theirs to command. After all, if one is feared, who was to be so foolish enough to challenge them?

Redson was no fool, nor a coward. He was not one to feel fear, he was the one to BE feared. Who isn't afraid of getting burned? Of feeling the agonising pain of the heat? An uncontrollable force of nature that stops at nothing until it has devoured everything it can. Until all it touches turns to ash.

Redson knew this, he knew how powerful his flames could be, how much damage they could potentially cause. The lives he could take was endless.

And yet…

A warm crimson trickled down the side of his cheek, his old scars having been reopened thanks to the sharp edges of the blades that struck him down, his raging fire rendering useless against the celestial swords.

Burns and cuts littered his form as he kneeled down on the ground clutching his injured hand as his eyes fixated on the person that caused him his downfall. Yet he could not blame anyone but himself. He could not blame either Mk or Guanyin.

He knew whatever had provoked such an action was his fault. Why? Why was it his fault in the first place? That's right, he broke a promise. A vow he swore to keep. He had allowed the demon within himself to freely do whatever it wishes to do. And that led him to break his own vow towards Gunayin. A vow, that if broken, would inevitable cost his freedom once again. And once again become a decile of the benevolent goddess of mercy.

He looked up to his opponent's eyes, in search of some sort of reasoning, for an explanation. Into those golden honey-brown eyes that used to shine so brightly under the sun. Those golden honey-brown orbs that always held a smile that enchanted him so.

But all he could find was emptiness.

Anger.

"Please Mk!" Redson managed out, as the rings started to tighten around his neck, wrists, and ankles "please don't let me go away again!"

His plea fell on deaf ears as Mk took a step back. That's when he saw it. In the reflection of Mk's eyes, he saw himself. His own eyes reflect fear. Fear.

That wasn't right, he shouldn't be afraid! He can't be!

But it was true.

He is afraid.

But why? Why was he so afraid?

He was not afraid of whatever the bodhisattva had for him. No, he would gladly take on any punishment given to him. After all, Guanyin is nothing but merciful.

No, he was afraid of something. Something! And yet he could not tell what.

"I'm sorry, Redson…" Mk started, his voice a low monotone. "You've crossed the line when you used the true fire of samadhi on Mr. Tang…"

"It is time to go, Redson." Guanyin's voice rang loudly, her aura enveloping redson in its soft glow.

Tears started to flow faster from Redson's eyes as he lowered his entire being into the ground with his forehead nearly touching the ground, his only beam of support his shaking and bloodied hands and arms.

"Please, Bodhisattva Guanyin. Don't take me away again…" Redson started to beg, to apologise, every so often being interrupted by a sob.

Redson knew full well that he had to repent for his crime. He knew this, he knew it well, and was willing to do anything to repent.

So why didn't he want to go with Guanyin?

Redson was afraid.

The thought hit him like a truck. He didn't want to leave. He didn't want to leave his family, his friends. He had a life on earth, a life that he isn't willing to let go. He was afraid to do so.

Afraid, so afraid.

He was afraid of what would happen if he wasn't there. Would his father be locked up again? Would his mother's scroll cries fill his ears again? Would he miss out on all the fun times he could have had with his friends?

So many things could go wrong once he leaves. He was afraid of not being able to do anything if something were to happen to the people he cared about the most. His mind wandered through all the possibilities, through all his fears, lost in the depths of his mind.

"Redson?" A familiar voice called out.

"Redson… open your eyes…" the voice sounded soft and tender, like that of a comforting mother. That was strange, when did he close his eyes?

Slowly Redson's eyes fluttered open only to be met by a dark and empty room. His room. This was his room, in his apartment.

Was it all a dream?

Thunder roared outside his window as the heavy clinking of hair hitting the glass rung in the air. He wiped away the tears that trickled down his cheek as he stood up, his eyes immediately locating the small statue he had of the Bodhisattva Guanyin in his room.

There was a small pool of water gathered at the base of the small statue as water seemed to be flowing from its eyes in a small stream. Reason's own vision started to blur at the sight as he approached the statue and sat down in front of it, hands held together in a prayer.

"Bodhisattva Guanyin…" Redson started in a hushed and soft voice. Unable to bring forth any words, all Redson managed to get out was a serious soft and quiet "thank you" with a genuine smile across his face.

===

END

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #mk #red son #foser writes #i hope this makes sense #i like the idea of Guanyin being like an older sister or mother figure

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kaleidoscopic-writing · 6 years

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Mind Over Matter

Chapter 5: That Gold Mine Changed You

The first few days back home were taxing to say the least. Mum and Dad were trying to be on their best behavior, and so were Ali and I. My dad was just a loud and boisterous person as it was, so he was up to his usual antics. My mum was clearly annoyed at my dad for his existence it seems most of the time, but she was trying to not call him out. Alison and I just had to deal with this and my mum’s ability to cut you with her words.

When we were at dinner the first day, I was telling them how I finished my first semester. I had all A’s, although two of them were A-’s. I slaved over these grades; I was happy with these grades. I was in the top decile of GPA’s for my class at UCL this semester, and all my mom responds with is “Try harder next semester. Minus reflect poorly.” There was no humor in her voice; she was serious in her reprimand of me. She didn’t know me to know how hard I worked for these grades and how they don’t come easily at UCL.

My mom never even went to uni, but that is a whole other story. My dad didn’t either until later in his life. Alison, of course, went to the Tisch School of the Arts in New York University. She had been acting long before she went to uni, but it was still a testament of how good she was that she got in there and graduated from there.

All those things happened in the past few days. It was morning and a fresh start to the day. Walking down the stairs for breakfast, I spotted my mum and Ali sitting at the kitchen table. Both had a plate in front of them and a cup of tea in hand. With a creak in the floor beneath my foot, both their heads turned to greet me.

“Good morning, Edie. There is some eggs and toast on the stove,” my mum said before turning back to Ali. They continued their conversation as I made myself a plate before sitting down next to Ali and across the table from mum. “We were just talking about my new movie,” Ali filled me in. “Was just telling mum about Brady.”

I turned to mum with wide eyes. “Brady Cooper, mum. He is sooo fit.”

She raised her eyebrows at my seriousness and let out a small laugh.

“Is this a big budget or indie film?” My mom asked, turning about her attention back to Alison, not responding on my comment.

“It is an indie film, limited theatre showing. I think it could really help my portfolio though,” Ali said with a sip of her tea.

“Big awards contender,” my mum questioned.

“Possibly. Depends on how it is received,” Alison said, nerves evident in her voice. To me. I don’t know if my mum notices her apprehension to her questioning.

“Well let’s hope,” my mum said with a small smile.

Dad entered the kitchen then with a loud “Good morning, beautifuls!’ He was too loud and too happy as usual. He walked in the room, walking over and giving mum a kiss on the forehead. She smiled at the contact, but it almost seemed forced, like there was a moment where I could see the annoyance on her face. But, my dad pulled away, and my mom’s face was neutral again.

“What are we ladies talking about,” my dad asked over his shoulder while pouring himself some tea.

“Alison might be in an award contending movie,” my mum cut in, raising her head slightly to speak over my shoulder line.

Before my dad had a chance to respond, Ali cut in, “I don’t know if it is an award contender. It is just a project I am doing.”

Mum just barely rolled her eyes when I looked at her, Ali and my dad were looking at each other, so only I saw my mum’s reaction.

“Well, that is amazing. Big things for my big girl,” dad said as he came down and sat next to mum, completely our square at the table.

“Dear god, dad. Stop saying that. It is so cheesy,” Alison scoffed.

“Never,” my dad jeered.

“Are you going to the Oscars this year, Ali?” Mum spoke again.

“Haven’t got the invitation yet but I assume so. I’ve gone the past two years,” Alison said. I could hear the slight annoyance in her voice. She was getting tired of mum’s prodding question.

“Well let’s hope they invite you again. Oscar appearances are always great for boosting your image,” mum said with indignation in her voice. Almost like she was trying to teach Ali lessons, as if Ali didn’t know her or industry, or as if Ali wasn’t already one of the UK’s most well known actresses. Mother knows best.

I forewent watching the movie with my parents, opting for some alone time. After sitting in my room for sometime, I decided that I wanted more books to read, and that I could grab some from the library and take them back to school. I knew my father had the book somewhere in the house, as I had seen it in the library before, so when I ventured into the quiet library, I then had to figure out where the book would be amongst the bookshelves. Mum and Dad were very unorganized, partly because they didn’t speak to each other enough to have a cohesive organization system but, also, because I don’t think they appreciated literature as much as I do. No one in my family did; I had always loved reading. Mum, Dad, and Alison were always so artistic in their own rights, but I don’t have much creative ability. I have always been obsessed with literature, though.

I could never come up with my own universes, my own stories, or characters with enough interpersonal struggle to warrant a story worth telling. So, reading was an escape. Whether it was romantic novels, classics, or alternate universes of dystopian reality, I had always been in awe of literature’s ability to allow you to step into another character, another life. I walked along one of the bookshelves, my fingers spread out, running them lightly along the books and feeling the bumps by the different sizes and widths of the books.

I had a good portion of the books in here, at least, but I promised myself that one day I would read all the books in my parents’ library. To read all that they have read. To have those connections to them and to understand books that have moved and shaped them.

After a few minutes, and taking a few books off the shelf to bring back to my room, I was still looking for my dad’s copy of The Great Gatsby. I had read a few of Fitzgerald’s novels this past year, and I had finally gotten around to wanting to read The Great Gatsby now. I had seen the movie a few years back with Leonard DiCaprio, another major love of mine, and I knew I would have to read it someday. It had always been one of my dad’s favorite books, if not his number one favorite book. He used to tell me about it when I was younger about Jay Gatsby’s rise to affluence from a means of nothing. I think my dad always felt like he could relate from the aspirations of Jay, coming from nothing and gaining wealth, fame, and reputation from his music. I don’t know though how Dad must relate to the fragility of Jay’s empire and the consequences of striving for too much. I mean, my dad has always had his struggles, but he still has all that he holds dear.

Finally, a green bound leather book, with gold lettering that I have seen many times over my childhood on my Dad’s desk sat right in front of me. My fingers stopped brushing along the rows of books, taking a second to feel over the spine of the novel and feeling the leather under my skin. I was so excited that I could finally read it. I hadn’t told my father yet that I wanted to read it, but I know that it will make him happy. Hopefully. I don’t really know with him these days. I don’t know how he couldn’t be happy, to share his favorite world with me as I am excited to glimpse it.

But, then, one of those moments happened.

It feels like time stops — that you experience a moment you would give an entire world to reverse but never can. A moment where the sheer odds of occurring are one in a million, and yet, somewhere out in the cosmic universe, the odds decide to play a cruel joke on you, yanking you from your blissful ignorance and placing you in your utter reality. A reality that you should be completely used to at this point, but each time these moments happen, you feel like someone threw an ice bucket on you. It’s that shocking feeling when you realize some things will never change, no matter how hard the things’ appearances might, or in this case, how hard someone appears to have changed.

When my fingers had pulled out the little leather book, the sound of a packet falling made my world stop. Even when I first looked down to see the packet between my feet on the floor, I was still in complete confusion at the twist in events. It wasn’t clicking that there was a packet hidden in the bookshelf with my dad’s favorite book. It wasn’t clicking that this little packet had a white power on it. It wasn’t clicking, until it did.

My dad was hiding cocaine in his bookshelf. Which still seemed hard to process because my dad had been clean for years. He had been clean since…

“This wasn’t right. Something is wrong,” I frantically thought to myself. But as my eyes stayed on the little white package, I realized the only thing that was wrong was my Dad. This packet between my feet confirmed every wall and blocks that I had put around myself. The reason I was so closed off, and it all comes down to this white packet on the floor.

“What the actual fuck,” I finally spoke aloud, to no one but myself.

I bent down and picked up the packet. I must have stared at it for minutes, wrapping my head around the impossibility of the predicament I found myself in. I could have very easily picked every book in this library off the self except that one and gone on my merry way, unaware of my father’s secret. But, I chose the one book that revealed my father’s lie to me.

I guess he did relate to the fragility of Jay Gatsby’s life style and the dark secrets he held.

With the packet in hand and anger boiling within, I slammed the book down on the desk adjacent to the bookshelf. Storming out of the room, my feet were walking faster than my brain could process. I should take time to go to my room, figure out how I was going to handle this situation and address my dad for his bullshit. But, I didn’t do that. Before I could blink, I was entering the living room. Whatever movie they were watching was still going on. The lights were dimmed but still on. However, they flashed to full brightness when my finger reached out and turned them all the way out.

My chest was burning and my eyes were stinging by the time all three heads in the room snapped by way, startled by the saddle turning on of the lights. Their confused looks didn’t stop me from my march to the center of the room. Rounding the corner, I heard mum call out my name, sounding confused, but I didn’t answer.

I stopped in front of the three of them, all sat comfortably on separate chairs. I threw down the packet on the coffee table in front of them all. My chest heaved uncontrollably. I could hear my heart beat in my eyes. All their eyes were on the the table and the little packet I just threw down, but mine were on my dad. His wrinkled forehead pulled down in confusion, his eyes squinting. And, when he realized the situation, all the air left his body, shoulders slumping. His head tilted downward in what I hope is shame but my as well but annoyance he was caught.

Mum and Ali didn’t speak then. Their eyes had risen to mine; I could feel their gazes in my head. They knew what was about to come. An explosion of family catastrophe.

It was utter silence until my dad finally raised his head slowly, sad eyes meeting mine. His mouth opened to speak, but I surprised even myself when I spoke quicker.

“What the fuck is this,” I almost yelled. Anger clear in my voice, and tears visibly welling in my eyes.

“Eden, please let me explain,” he said softly. His hand reached out to touch my arm, but I stepped back.

“How long,” I cut him off, with a shaking voice.

“Eden,” my dad spoke again.

He clearly did not want to answer my question. He was avoiding the truth, which proved to me that this facade had been going on for quite a long time.

“HOW FUCKING LONG,” I screamed, tears rolling down my cheeks. I could feel the heat in my face. “Has it been this whole time? Everything we’ve been through, everything YOU PUT ME through, was all for shit.”

In the quietest voice I have ever heard my loud-spoken dad speak in, he said through the silence, “A few months after I left rehab.”

The incident occurred two weeks before my thirteenth birthday. He entered rehab a few days after being released from the hospital, almost went immediately from the hospital to the facility. Of course, I didn’t see him during that period. I didn’t see him for almost a year. I couldn’t look at him after the incident. My center of reality had completely shifted. My world had completely tilted over because of my dad. Now, five years later, he hadn’t learned any lesson. I realized he never would.

“You are sick and selfish. I have tried to forgive and forget because I thought you had gotten better, but I know now the only thing that got better was your ability to hide it,” I said. My body trembling and my knees weak. Ali, finally not being able to stand my duress, stood up and came to stand by my side. Her arm wrapping around my back and gripping my other side. Her arm gave me support not only physically but emotionally to feel her standing beside me. My dad’s head hung downward, in guilt, shame or sadness, or maybe even all of them. I could hear my mum sadly sigh. I turn my head towards her. She seemed uncomfortable and sad, but I was past the point of compassion.

“Did you know,” I bite out to her.

With the solemnest of motions, she slowly nodded her head. I tried to scoff, but it turned came out as more of a sob.

“You are both unbelievable, insane, and devastating.”

“Eden, it hasn’t been like it has been before. Your father has it controlled.” My mum tried to reason.

I shook my head.

“Dad clearly has no control if he has resorted for years to the thing that quite literally killed him and has chosen to lie about it rather than rebuilding the foundations of this family that he broke that night.”

There was silence. No objections from my parents. All I felt besides sheer anger was the squeeze of comfort on my arm from Ali. I could see her mouth quivering and tears falling down her cheek.

“I am leaving. I can’t be in this house since it is clearly all a lie. Don’t even think about trying to contact me.”

With that, I stormed out of the room just as I had entered it. The entire path to my room seemed like slow motion. Everything had piled up in just a few minutes, and I felt like I was being suffocated underneath it all. Once I got into my room, I slammed the door behind me and fell down to the ground. Scrunching my legs up to my chest I wrapped my arms around my legs and cried into my shoulder.

After a minute or two, I felt the overwhelming urge to move, to get out. Standing up, I grabbed my suitcase from the corner and began pilling all my stuff back in. Rushing over to my dresser, I pulled out more clothes. I had planned to bring more clothes with me back to school, but now in such a hurry, I couldn’t grab as much as I wanted. Finally when my suitcase couldn’t fit anymore, I closed it up and grabbed my backpack of my desk, stuffing my computer and books inside of it.

It was in my hectic pacing that I heard the subtlest knocks on my door, and I was not surprised when Ali stepped in a few seconds later because I knew my parents had just enough reason to give me space. Her face looked so sad; her eyes taking in the scene of my scattered but more barren room with my things packed.

“I can’t go home with you, Eden,” she spoke softly.

I stopped my pacing to look up to her. She seemed really cut up, but I don’t understand why she wouldn’t leave.

“What? You won’t? But, you saw.. you know,” I trailed off, eyes beginning to burn again.

“Eden, I would much rather be with you in a heartbeat. I didn’t know about dad, and if I did, things would not be what they are right now. I’m not staying to be with mum and dad. I told you I have that meeting with the director on the second here in Manchester. It’s massive; I can’t reschedule.”

Ali stepped forward to me, arms outreached. I hugged her back without hesitation. We held each other tightly. I knew she understood my anger. She wasn’t there when everything went down, neither was mum, but no one understood the effect it had on me more than Alison. No one knew me better than Alison.

“Can you drive me to the train station?” I said to her as we hugged.

“Of course. Let me go grab my keys,” she said pulling away.

Once again, I was alone in my room. My eyes wandered over my life within these walls. Pictures from my childhood littered the walls. This home was so happy, but I couldn’t stand it right now. My dad and I had our rocky times, but my final year or two home when I was in college were good to us, when he was home, that is. He was a way for a good portion of the year due to his music, but when he was home, we were comfortable to each other. I could relate to him more as mum and I came to more of blows. He was away enough to not see mum and my fights, but here enough to understand my mum was unruly. But now, I was saddened by him. I have had conversations with Katherine in the past about whether he uses when he was on the road. I told myself that he wasn’t because I don’t think a person could break themselves with a habit like that after what it had done to them, like if you have a harrowing enough experience to something you can finally cut the straw. I should have known better I guess. My dad should have known better.

Grabbing all my things, I gave my room one last look over. My entire childhood was in this room — the good, the bad, and most importantly, the ugly. Turning back and walking out, Alison met me outside her room in the hallway, and together, we walked out of the house. I didn’t spare a glance anywhere besides my path to the front door. I didn’t know where my parents were; I didn’t want to know. The house was completely silent, unsettling.

Alison and I drove to the train station in silence. Both too caught up in our own heads to begin the conversation. How did we both go on from here? What did this mean for our family? Our incredible fucked up family. I was just over it. Everything that came with my parents life was cancerous. The fame. The money. The drugs. I couldn’t handle it. I wasn’t normal. All I wanted in life was stability, and the cautionary tales of fame and fortune just seem to be proven again and again in my family. It will never be me.

Once Alison parked outside the train station, we sat in silence for a moment. But, Alison was the first to break.

“Kathryn is going to pick you up from the train station. I texted her,” she said softly.

My eyes begin to burn again as I turned towards Alison and hugged her so tightly. Alison may be like my parents in lifestyle, but she could never be them. She understood me and why I have been pushed to the opposite side of the spectrum from Mum and Dad. She took care of me.

“Thank you, Ali! Please come home quickly,” I said as my breathing began to calm.

“I will, Eden. I’m sorry that you have to go through this.”

“It isn’t just me, Alison. You are stuck with this fucked up family too.”

I pulled away and stepped out of the car. Opening the backseat door, I grabbed my bags and gave Alison a parting ‘I love you.’ Walking to the train, I was leaving behind this disaster of a trip. I was worried coming home. Leaving for college took me away from the toxicity of my family, but I guess, I will never escape it.

Finally getting my seat on the train, I slumped down into it, which made me realize just how exhausted I was. I was just drained of everything. Within minutes of the train beginning to pull out of the station, I was pulled into sleep. My eyes were closing and the nothingness and reprieve of sleep was calling my name. I wasn’t fighting it. Soon enough I would be home, my real home in London, and I would be away from all that has transpired today.

I’m glad this is how I get to end my last two days of 2017. My life is a joke.

#sorry for the delays #let me know your thoughts!!!#1dff #1d #one direction #one direction fanfic #one direction fanfiction #hs #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #fic: mind over matter

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spryfilm · 7 years

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“Moonlight” (2016)

Drama

Time: 119 minutes

Written & Directed by: Barry Jenkins

Featuring: Mahershala Ali, Shariff Earp, Duan Sanderson, Janelle Monáe and Naomie Harris

Juan: “I’ve been here a long time. Out of Cuba. A lot of black folks are Cuban. You wouldn’t know from being here now. I was a wild little shortie, man. Just like you. Running around with no shoes on, the moon was out. This one time, I run by this old… this old lady. I was running, howling. Kinda of a fool, boy. This old lady, she stopped me. She said…”

Juan: [imitates old lady voice] “Running around, fishing in a boat of light”. “In moonlight, black boys look blue”. “You’re blue”. “That’s what I’m gonna call you: ‘Blue’.”

Little: “Is your name ‘Blue’?”

Juan: [laughs] “Nah.”

Juan: “At some point, you gotta decide for yourself who you’re going to be. Can’t let nobody make that decision for you.”

The newly crowned Best Picture winner at this years Oscars has not solved the Oscars ‘so white’ but it sure helps widen the debate, as well as once again showing that it is possible for an underdog to really have a rags to riches story. Even after the massive flub at the Oscars it was still amazing to see Barry Jenkins and his cohorts take the stage for their time in the sun – I only hope it doesn’t stop here. I did love “Moonlight” but I will still blow the horn for the absolutely revelatory Jeff Nicholls “Loving” (2016) which you should seek out immediately. “Moonlight” (2016) directed and co-written by Barry Jenkins, who had only directed one other film which no one had seen – although I suspect people will be searching YouTube for it now. This film will challenge you on many levels, is very much an old fashioned independent art film that has social meaning very much identifiable in todays world.

“Moonlight” is a film that could be considered a characters piece and has a through line, but at he same time is made up of three distinctive chapters:

Little

Shy and withdrawn child Chiron (Alex Hibbert), dubbed “Little” for his meek personality and size, is chased into an abandoned motel by a pack of bullies. He is later found by Juan (Mahershala Ali), a crack dealer, who takes Chiron to the house in which he lives with his girlfriend, Teresa (Janelle Monáe). After being fed dinner and allowed to spend the night, Chiron begins to open up to them. The next morning, Juan delivers Chiron back to his controlling and emotionally abusive mother Paula (Naomie Harris), who grounds him for not returning home the previous day. Chiron and Juan continue spending more time together, the latter teaching Chiron how to swim while advising him to make his own path in life.

Chiron

Now a teenager, Chiron (now played by Ashton Sanders) is frequently bullied, harassed and openly threatened by one of his peers, Terrel (Patrick Decile), though continuing to remain close to Kevin (now played by Jharrel Jerome). Paula has since become addicted to crack, solicits herself, and physically coerces Chiron to give her money given to him by Teresa, with whom he continues to spend nights over, despite Juan now being deceased.

Black

Now a hardened and tougher adult, Chiron (now played by Trevante Rhodes), going by the name “Black” (a new nickname that had been previously given by Kevin as a teenager) is a drug dealer living outside Atlanta. Having moved up since running drugs after leaving juvie, he now leads a similar life to the one Juan led, living in a large house and driving the same car. He has trouble sleeping and receives frequent calls from Paula, asking him to visit.

Once again I am not going to spoil this film – it really has to be experienced – and it looks fantastic on the big screen

It can be hard to believe that a film directed with such purity, rawness and realness could be Barry Jenkins second film, it is such a step up from his previous film one could even be forgiven for thinking this is a film made after a long career – but it is not. “Moonlight” evokes such feelings of joy, sadness, empathy and humor that it truly is a film that does not come along every day – and the way in which we have three separate actors playing the same person over three distinct time periods means that we are (and the relevant actor) not focused on the differences but on the commonalities and the links between each chapter. There is a cause and very real effect from one element of the story to another – and one that is made easily accessible by the director, writer, editors and actors – it is truly a monumental feat.

This is that special film that exceeds expectations unequivocally – there is no way you are able to walk out of this film without feeling something truly special has not been seen but witnessed – it does not trade on unearned emotion or fall down in relying on any archetype that it supposed to evoke feelings that haunt many of todays movies. In fact this story always moves the characters forward even when it is against their own personal safety or interests to do so – a prime example is Chiron’s mother, you just want to reach out and shake her to her senses.

As with any great film the performances and direction become one and sync in a way that even the casual movie goer can recongnise something special is happening and in this case the cast, writer and director are all working from the same page – this is apparent in every scene and every word uttered.

This film has a large cast, my own standouts and the three I see being the most revelatory are Mahershala Ali, Janelle Monáe and Naomie Harris who inhabit their roles even though they do not appear in the entirety of the film – but these are the ones that stand out. The obvious actors that hold our attention are the three that play Chiron (or Black or Little) – Trevante Rhodes, Alex Hibbert and Ashton Sanders – whilst each the central character are cast perfectly, it is not a huge leap to imagine these three people becoming each other as each highlights different aspects of that characters personality.

This is a film that does not just rely on its actors as Barry Jenkins has an excellent eye and a technique that proves he is a very good director and one to watch out for the future. My favorite part of the film is the first chapter, to me you can identify what he is doing with the camera – except for the opening scene that is full of on the nose dialogue, the camera remains quite still and we see the characters enter and leave frame which indicates their role in this chapter. Jenkins knows what he wants and he executes perfectly in a way that compliments the screenplay and the actors.

This is an incredible film and at this point is my film of the year which is saying something, I believe it is superior to both “Loving” (2016) and “Fences” (2016) my other two films that I have rated highly. This is because “Moonlight” is contemporary and tells a story sorely lacking in films today – it is also more relevant in this post election period as it focuses on minorities, but also minorities within those same minorities. This film also asks questions about masculinity, love and what it means to hide one’s self every single day and the relief that comes from revealing the truth of that self.

Out now on DVD & Blu-ray.

DVD/Blu-ray Review: “Moonlight” (2016) "Moonlight" (2016) Drama Time: 119 minutes Written & Directed by: Barry Jenkins Featuring: Mahershala Ali, Shariff Earp, Duan Sanderson, Janelle Monáe and Naomie Harris…

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