Review of A Most Violent Year (2014) by Mark M — 17 Jan 2015

A Most Violent Year is a tale of crime, capitalism, personal and family values, and while it isn't as deep or as subtle as J.C. Chandor assumes it is, the film succeeds for reasons ranging from the brilliant performances by Oscar Isaac and Jessica Chastain, down to the slow-burn narrative of the writer-director's latest thematically rich entry in an already small but diverse filmography from a financial collapse in Margin Call (2011) to one about a man lost at sea with All Is Lost (2013).

Businessman Abel Morales has it all; wealth, a beautiful wife and two daughters. But he wants more. No; he needs more. Struggling to build a heating-oil empire in statistically one of the bloodiest years in New York's history, Oscar Isaac exudes not the violent side of Al Pacino's Michael Corleone, but that of the latter's thoughtful, driven and suave side as his character, Abel, faces off not only against his competition, but also from those in his own company and family.

Dabbling in business, politics, property and law, Abel's story is less about who shoots the other first, as Chandor's leading man intrinsically encapsulates the old world of crime; a seedy arena of shady under the table dealings that relied less on physical violence, and more on the power of respect, influence and questionable paperwork. Remaining steadfast in his belief that all of his problems - from his oil tankers being constantly hijacked, to the investigation into his company by the district attorney Lawrence (David Oyelowo) - can be solved without resorting to violence, Abel is gradually pushed to his breaking point as Chandor slowly roasts him through the numerous ordeals that feed back into the central theme of pitting the former's principles against exterior threats as Abel struggles to do what he believes is right in a period when doing so would end in some form of catastrophe.

Validated by her "You're not going to like what happens when I get involved" threat earlier on, Anna's character is one of venomous mysticism which puts her apart from other female characters in contemporary crime mediums, who are usually willfully ignorant, oblivious, or subservient caricatures of a 'good housewife'. To claim that Anna's character exists solely as a provocateur to her husband wouldn't be a mere oversimplification, but to not credit Chastain's sultry performance as nothing short of riveting would be a disservice. A beautiful double-edged sword if there ever was one, Anna serves her function as the opposite side of the coin Abel is on, in that she is willing to do what her husband believes is avoidable to secure their family and company's future; this could also be inversely interpreted in the sense that the threat Anna poses is simply as another superficial narrative roadblock that Abel has to overcome in his road to becoming a 'real man' and not a 'pussy', as Anna eloquently calls her husband at one point.

Bringing the gloomy atmosphere front and center yet again is Selma's cinematographer, Bradford Young, as he drapes the entire film in the type of tint and lighting that would fit cozily among crime and gangster films from the '70s up to the mid '80s; almost like a fresh corpse would in the trunk of a mafioso's Sedan. But as gloom and doom as A Most Violent Year gets with Alex Ebert's oddly fitting synth score, Chandor never truly allows the movie to become as its namesake implies despite being a gritty '80s period piece; at least not in a literal, gnashing of the teeth sense. The violence in J.C. Chandor's crime tale is one that consists of verbal, hushed deliveries as his characters trade blows through threats, verbal sparring and subtle displays of physical machismo rather than one of rattling gunfire from automatic rifles on the streets of New York.