Hulu’s “Normal People” Is the Show of the Year

Daisy Edgar-Jones and Paul Mescal in "Normal People"

The title practically demands deconstruction. Are the characters in Normal People… normal? The simple, unsatisfying, entirely accurate answer is that, well, they are and they aren’t. The more complex response requires delving into the thematic contradictions that are inherent in most great works of art. The players at the center of this stupendous new series, which is based on a novel by Sally Rooney, are familiar, relatable, and ordinary. They are also unique, complicated, and fascinating.

The brilliance of Normal People, which Rooney has adapted to television with the help of co-writer Alice Birch and showrunner Ed Guiney, is how it captures the universal qualities of its experiences—love and loss, elation and confusion, falling down and growing up—without sacrificing an ounce of its characters’ individuality. The story that it tells is resolutely intimate, never resorting to false contrivances or cheap melodrama. Yet as it progresses, the series accumulates a certain grandeur, an invisible sweep that magnifies the intensity of its images and emotions. On paper (I haven’t read the novel), Normal People’s boy-meets-girl premise may sound prosaic. But on the screen, with beauty and force, it turns that prose into poetry. Read More

Room: Within Four Walls, Two Lives Unfold

Jacob Tremblay and Brie Larson, in "Room"

The boy lives with his Ma in Room. Not the room, not a room—just Room. To preface the proper noun with an article is to suggest the possibility of other rooms, different rooms. But there is only Room: Four walls, a ceiling with Skylight, and beyond that Outer Space and Heaven. That is all there is. That is the world.

A harrowing, heartbreaking drama from Lenny Abrahamson, Room is a film of many virtues—superlative acting, tender writing, enormous feeling—but its greatest achievement is immersing its audience into the boy’s state of mind, articulating how he perceives this tiny, cloistered space that is his entire universe. The screenplay is by Emma Donoghue, adapting her novel, which she wrote from the perspective of the boy, named Jack (portrayed on screen by Jacob Tremblay, in an astonishing performance). Her script is a model of economy and minimalism; she supplies Jack with a few quick voiceovers that concisely set the scene, but otherwise, she and Abrahamson simply drop you into this strange, unsettling place and let you puzzle things out for yourself. Read More

Ranking the Movies of 2014: #s 70-64

Elizabeth Olsen in Godzilla

The Manifesto is ranking every movie we saw in 2014. If you missed it, here’s what we’ve covered so far:

Nos. 92-79 (Tiers 12 and 11)
Nos. 78-71 (Tier 10)

Tier 9: Showing Promise, Lacking Execution

70. Obvious Child (directed by Gillian Robespierre, 88% Rotten Tomatoes, 76 Metacritic). Jenny Slate is a charming actress, and it’s good to see her finally get a showcase. And I admire a movie in which a woman chooses to obtain an abortion without depicting that choice as a traumatizing, life-altering event. The problem with Obvious Child, aside from its boilerplate romantic-comedy beats (The Office‘s Jake Lacy is a dud as Slate’s love interest), is that it isn’t particularly funny. Slate’s standup bits feel overworked, and with the exception of her close friendship with a fellow starving artist (the wonderful Gabby Hoffmann), most of the movie’s interpersonal dynamics ring false. Hell, the funniest moment in the movie is a fart joke. Nothing against fart jokes, but Slate deserves better.

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