Everything's coming up Jessica Chastain, it seems. While The Eyes of Tammy Faye didn't scrounge up much box-office success, the actress' performance as the famed televangelist has earned her career-best reviews. The acclaim catapults her to the front of the pack in the current Best Actress race, one that feels fated for biopic domination. Furthermore, Chastain's doing impressive work on TV alongside Oscar Isaac in an English-speaking remake of Ingmar Bergman's Scenes from a Marriage. Taking all this into account, it's fitting to dedicate this week's Almost There write-up to the fabulous actress, recalling her previous collaboration with Isaac in J.C. Chandor's A Most Violent Year. As Anna and Abel Morales, these beautiful thespians deliver some of their best work ever…
Our earliest glimpse of Anna Morales finds her putting on her face first thing in the morning. As the opening credits fade through the screen, Chastain gazes at the mirror's reflection, her eyes glistening with calculated focus. This picture of a woman sporting Michelle Pfeiffer's Scarface hairdo while delicately powdering her face should be a tableau of harmless elegance. And yet, it rings with menace, the promise of incoming danger. Above all, the sensation we're left with is that this is a warrior putting on their armor. In her case, instead of hammered metal, cosmetics are the shield by which she hides vulnerability, a carefully constructed barrier between the person and the world. Styled in the best 1980s nouveau riche aesthetic, she looks incredible, but one can't shake off the portent that something's wrong.
Such dark moods emerge from the slow push of the camera towards the dressing table. They also blossom from Chastain's measured grace, the casual precision of her every motion. Another important idea that this initial encounter with Anna provides is that much of what we see is a façade, not an accurate indicator of the woman beneath the perfectly coiffured mask of invulnerability. The concept is sustained in subsequent scenes as we discover more of the character's ersatz coolness. Bedecked in wintery Armani and glamorous shades, Anna projects the essence of a dangerous femme fatale while passing Oscar Isaac, her on-screen husband, a briefcase full of cash. However, there's the spark of a pleased little smile happening in the corner of her mouth.
Even when the camera's far away, the pair's chemistry is abundantly clear. When the camera's close, they light up the screen aflame. There's tenderness in their shared looks, their touches, morsels of softness that can't be entirely obfuscated by the imperious business drag both Anna and Abel like to do. What we see, when we look at them, is a cocktail of domestic and professional contentment, a hard-won romantic synergy that feels like the coda to a sprawling love story that started way before A Most Violent Year even begins. Once upon a time, they went through the tale of a gangster's daughter, a Brooklynite mobster princess, and the boy with a Spanish name who swept her off her feet. Somewhere along the way, they promised each other a future lived on the right side of the law. Only he meant it more than she ever did.
Gesturing towards the lives outside a particular narrative's frame is an important asset to have as a screen actor, especially when participating in such a film as this, where exposition is kept to a minimum, sacrificed in favor of procedural information. In Chandor's creation, we mainly discover the characters through their reactions to the plot, how they maneuver and negotiate their way around a present crisis. For Chastain's Anna, the immediate impulse is always to go for the kill. Watching her at the hospital, keeping company to an attacked driver, and waiting for Abel is an exercise in registering restless energy under a surface of peace. She wants to say something. We can feel it. Still, only hushed words in dark corridors will do, for what she has to say is an open path to war.
Abel may want to keep his heating oil business straight and legitimate, but criminal violence is as ingrained in the city's soul as it is in Anna's bones – she knows that to answer aggression with passivity will only invite more terror upon them. What's worse is that her fears are quickly proved correct when a quiet night at home is interrupted by a shady goon hiding in the bushes. The next day, things get even worse as the Morales' young daughter finds a gun buried in the snow and plays with it as if the killing machine were nothing but a toy. Chastain's frozen panic as she tries to get the thing away from the girl's hands is a piece of beauty, motherly fear giving in to impatience, a burst of vocal anger as an automatic response to affliction.
It would be easy, expected even, to play the character as a Lady Macbeth type henceforth, capitalizing on Anna's bloody influence over her husband. Nevertheless, what Chastain, Chandor and company uncover is more interesting, at least more surprising, than the Shakespearean archetype of ambition turned to voraciousness turned to guilt. As it turns out, Anna may not be as hardened as she wants others to believe, nor is she as smart as she may think. Moreover, pride often blinds her and leaves the heart open to serious injury. See the tears that mar her stoicism when Abel insults his wife's intelligence and compares the gun she trots around with what prostitutes carry to protect themselves. The face is tense, sculpted into marmoreal severity, but there's no hiding the wetness of those eyes, the raw hurt that overwhelms the character.
Many other scenes play with the dichotomy between superficial toughness and the complicated humanity deep within, be it marital arguments and their bruised revelations or the reaction to sudden death. That being said, some of Chastain's most memorable moments come when Anna is in control, when past history and familial habits serve to make her a daunting adversary, a precious ally. One thinks back to her work as a glamorous plus-one during an important dinner. Chastain is all easy smiles and charm, articulating her upper body in poses that beckon trust and signify comfortable, warm wealth. Her eyes never stop moving, though, breaking from the charade with pointed looks, accessing everything with lioness-like alertness.
On another occasion, when the cops show up and interrupt her kid's birthday party, the viewer can see that Anna was once accustomed to handling the authorities with placating efficiency. A first approach is marked by insincere politeness, a colorful napkin used as a prop to denote how frazzled this mother is, how genuine her hostess preoccupation is. After the ruse has been done and all incriminating documents are hidden, her demeanor changes dramatically. Instead of an innocent cloth, she holds a lit cigarette between her manicured claws, and every flourish punctuates the threatening spiel. As Chastain talks of disrespect to David Oyelowo's district attorney, we can taste the poisonous kiss of her snarl, the disdain dripping from every word. It's a tour de force in performing sublimated anger, verging on poppy camp, without ever jumping the shark into senseless scenery-chewing.
This supporting star turn was acclaimed by critics long before general audiences had a chance to see the movie. When it finally got a limited release on December 31st, 2014, A Most Violent Year could already show for itself an NBR win for Best Supporting Actress, as well as Golden Globe, Independent Spirit, and Critics Choice nominations for Chastain. However, as the season progressed, J.C. Chandor's brilliant film lost steam. On Oscar nominations morning, it failed to score in a single category. The Academy's eventual Best Supporting Actress nominees were Patricia Arquette in Boyhood, Laura Dern in Wild, Keira Knightley in The Imitation Game, Emma Stone in Birdman, and Meryl Streep in Into the Woods. Arquette took the gold, while Dern had the honor of being one of the year's most surprising inclusions on AMPAS' ballot.
For Chastain, this was one of many failed Oscar bids that followed her 2012 Zero Dark Thirty Best Actress nomination. Truth be told, there could be a month-long Almost There series just about the actress, also featuring The Tree of Life, Miss Sloane, and Molly's Game. Hopefully, this is the year when she finally gets out of that Oscar dry spell and returns to the Academy's good graces. As far as I'm concerned, she's better than all the nominees in 2014 and wouldn't have minded if she took home a little golden man way back then.
A Most Violent Year is streaming on Fubo, Showtime, Hoopla, Kanopy, DirecTv, and Spectrum On Demand. You can also rent it on many other platforms.