Blue Caprice Screen 8 articles

Blue Caprice


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  • Moors’ aesthetic is one of purposeful rigidity. The precious few facts of the character’s biographies are repeated again and again, short montages of billowing palm trees and suburban rooftops standing in for atmosphere, while the wobbly framing and linear determinism skim the characters’ psychology, while giving off the pretense that this amounts to serious enquiry.

  • It’s not an easy sit. If Moors leans heavily on his leads (both excellent) to shade the plot with a hint of buried trauma, the overall vibe is way too oblique to amount to a clear comment... Blue Caprice is probably what more post-9/11 cinema should have been: desperate for explanations, inchoate and wrapped in unspoken loneliness. Even though we can stomach it better a decade later, we’re still not healed.

  • Otherwise generally choosing to underplay the national-crisis angle, Moors exhumes yesterday’s news chiefly to highlight the makeshift-family dynamic at its core. A marvel of tone that’s as cold to the touch as its tarmac surfaces, Blue Caprice nonetheless comes to seem a little static in its psychology, with filial devotion never much in doubt, no matter how unsavory the patriarch’s demand.

  • If those motivations seem chaotic, Moors and writer Ronnie Porto create a lucid atmosphere of simmering dissatisfaction and disorder that’s compelling and convincing. The two are further aided by charismatic turns from their leads, with Washington oozing malevolent, abusive psychosis, and Richmond displaying a quiet confusion and animosity that ultimately blossoms into amoral viciousness.

  • Made with great restraint (we see almost nothing of the victims), the movie is an investigation of the making of a sociopath—how an abandoned child is molded by a psychotically vengeful father figure and a casually violent culture into a killing machine. Blue Caprice is an elegy, perhaps even a tragedy.

  • With no "will they or won't they" element to the plot, Blue Caprice has to work harder to maintain momentum, particularly through its second act. But its focus on Lee's transformation from shy child to ruthless killer largely pays off because Richmond's lean performance makes for captivating, if occasionally devastating, watching.

  • ...Here the slow drip, drip of madness is ignited by rage and fueled by a sense of powerlessness and a soul-annihilating paternalism. There are no answers, only casualties.

  • It's the scariest thing I've seen in a theater in a long time and one of the best films of the year. This is Moors's first feature, and he knows what he's doing. The observational coolness has a gathering force... Moors seems to be working from a sense of moral duty more than conventional artistry. He amplifies your sense of fear. You spend the movie afraid of the viciousness both on the screen and beyond it.

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