Reżyseria:
Pablo LarraínScenariusz:
Noah OppenheimZdjęcia:
Stéphane FontaineMuzyka:
Mica LeviObsada:
Natalie Portman, Peter Sarsgaard, Greta Gerwig, Billy Crudup, John Hurt, Richard E. Grant, Caspar Phillipson, John Carroll Lynch, Beth Grant, Max Casella (więcej)VOD (2)
Opisy(1)
Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy ma 34 lata, kiedy jej mąż zostaje wybrany na Prezydenta Stanów Zjednoczonych. Elegancka i stylowa, od razu staje się globalną ikoną, jedną z najbardziej znanych kobiet na świecie. Jej intuicja i smak w kwestiach mody, sztuki i wystroju wnętrz są powszechnie podziwiane. Jednak 22 listopada 1963 roku poukładane życie Pierwszej Damy rozsypuje się na kawałki. Podczas wyborczej podróży do Dallas, ginie John F. Kennedy, a pogrążona w żałobie Jacqueline, na pokładzie Air Force One, powraca do Waszyngtonu. Mierząc się z tragedią, postanawia kontynuować dzieło męża. W ciągu kilku dni nie tylko dopisze triumfalny koniec do mitu JFK, ale też ugruntuje legendę, której na imię… Jackie. (Kino Świat)
(więcej)Materiały wideo (22)
Recenzje (8)
I don’t think I have ever seen a movie that would be this strained and forced. I mean movies about American presidents do contain this type of boredom, but here it was emphasized by the terribly forced performance given by Natalie Portman, whom I really like under different circumstances. But in this one I couldn’t stand her at all. She was showing off in front of the camera and it seemed that she really really wanted to win an Oscar. She wanted it so hard that she couldn’t have been more annoying and less believable I guess. And on top of that, the greatest issue with the movie is that it’s actually about nothing at all. It does have its moments, but I think I could count those with the fingers of my hand. The rest is simply an absolutely worthless movie that is trying to speak to US citizens. I don’t think it makes any sense in Europe.
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A non-Hollywood gem through and through, dominated by stewed emotions and a contact camera. Natalie Portman is in a different league, but I feel like this story of a fresh widow deserves a stronger framing, perhaps in a film where she's not the lead, but rather a prominent supporting character. Larraín pulls it off extremely artistically, but the stranglehold on the audience's empathy gets annoying in the second half.
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A director with a remarkable style and a target audience consisting mainly of coffee-shop intellectuals tackled a topic for a general audience in an interesting manner with his traditionally minimalist style and monotonous rhythm. But Jackie is also an empty shell of a film, without a dramatic arch or a message. The only ones willing to discuss the director’s intention will be the coffee-shop intellectuals (without actually getting anywhere, as always).
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Jackie Kennedy was a significant historical celebrity, and the assassination of her husband is still considered a highly significant milestone in the history of the United States. The producer logically saw potential in the leading character, but the result is one of the most unnecessary films I have ever had the misfortune to watch. Its goal is to create a replica of Kennedy's former partner and capture her during the time when she was dealing with her loss. However, Natalie Portman's portrayal lacks naturalness and spontaneity in Jackie's costume. She comes across as someone who wants to make a good impression in society, putting on a mask and trying to carefully control her emotions. Any documentary would better convey the character of Jackie and those events. This is simply a futile memory of times when women were defined by their husbands' status. Unfortunately, it is a very boring and uninteresting movie for me. Overall impression: 25%.
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Jackie is actually an illustration of the opposite of Wes Anderson. Here we also have characters looking into the camera in centred compositions, characters in spacious interiors with fragmented sets and often a bold colour palette, as well as other stylistic devices primarily associated with the quirky hipster auteur. However, whereas Anderson takes delight in artificiality and stiffness suddenly interspersed with eruptions of chaotic bustle, Larraín shows the depressing nature and heaviness of rooms intended for dolls. Through the story of the first lady, who has to build a legacy of future history on a foundation of a sudden tragic loss, it surprisingly says a lot about Anderson’s creative method, which also composes from historical and artistic artefacts an idealised image of a Camelot that will never be again, but which we admire with even greater melancholy.
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