Review of CODA (2021) by Ahmedaiman1999 — 19 Aug 2021

Ever since premiering at Sundance film festival to rave reviews, I've been looking forward to CODA but have always kept my expectations in check. CODA is a coming-of-age story sees Ruby (played by Emilia Jones in one of the best performances this year), a girl with a penchant for singing, grappling with chasing her dreams while helping her deaf family which she happens to be the only hearing member in. The story is nothing special, and the film itself is anything but groundbreaking. Rather, it's one that thrives off of its simplicity from which it yields enriching subtlety.

For starters, the family dynamic is priceless. Whether they're squabbling or having a laugh, their interactions with each other are like quickfire repartees that have you transfixed while at play, and are sunk in as soon as they end. The humour in this movie originally generates either from how crude and blunt Ruby's family is (more on that later) or from the complexity of non-verbal communication. Yet, the movie never looks down at deaf people or even regards them patronizingly, and each time we spend some moments with the family makes this more and more evident. Does the same go for the family itself and each member of it? And are they perfectly imperfect as they seem? Not really.

As the family has its own identity, each character has its own individual personality and unique mannerisms, too. And it's here where we get to see through the cracks in each one of them. Ruby is the one who communicates with them and the sign-language interpreter and mediator between them and the townspeople. Ironically, none of her family members is able to properly communicate their feelings to Ruby herself, the thing that made her dilemma more and more perplexing and befuddling.

Ruby's brother, Leo, grows tired of people regarding him and his parents as 'disabled'. He feels that he's seen as helpless and "freak" — as one once called him before getting into a bar brawl. That feeling is further amplified when he realises how much they rely on his sister to be their connection to the outside world. As a consequence, he puts the blame on Ruby because he feels that he lives under her sister's shadow, let alone she's his younger sibling. In his heart, however, he loves his sister dearly. And after knowing of her talent, he becomes worried her potential might go to waste as a result of staying with them forever instead of pursuing her passion.

As for the mother, Jackie, things are much more complicated. She bans Ruby from listening to music while they're at the table because that's 'rude' since it's not something "[they] all can do together," and she's frustrated at learning she joined the school choir. Later on, she's desperate to do anything to stop her from heading off to the music school because that way they'd lose their only 'interpreter' they can't afford to keep their fishing business afloat. Thus, her actions and intentions seem to be solely based on the family's business' interests with a total disregard to Ruby's. She comes across as exploitative, and also as someone who clearly sees deafness as a deficiency that the whole family must suffer from. That said, it's revealed that all that has something to do with her past, which I'm not going to spoil but it shows how much Jackie's actually concerned about her relationship with her daughter.

However, it's not only about her family, as Ruby herself has her own internal conflict and restrictions that she's built for herself — unwillingly, of course. On the face of it, she's ashamed of her family because of how shamelessly frank they are, especially her father, who legitimately got Ruby in some awkwardly embarrassing situations. On closer inspection, though, we see she's learned to adopt a new persona at school over the years because 'sounding like a deaf person' made her classmates make fun of her. Unfortunately, she learned to be normal by being different, only to become diffident. The whole thing about her inspiring, eccentric music teacher telling her that her problem is that she's "holding her voice" in the choir and at another occasion as though she's suppressing it, is a metaphor for her true self and identity she's been nearly stripped of unconsciously, whether because she's confined to her family's obligations or to avoid feelings of inadequacy and mortification.

The second half of CODA is undeniably the weakest. As I mentioned earlier, the story itself is pretty formulaic, with its ups and downs, romantic storyline that slipped into cliché territory before even we're halfway through, and 'too-good-to-be-true' moments by the end. Nevertheless, CODA overflows with emotional beats that are bound to melt even the stony hearts, which the second half, in particular, is replete with. I mean, I almost teared up in three scenes! If that doesn't eclipse its shortcomings I don't know what does. Sweet, tender and earnest, CODA is a crowd-pleaser and one of the biggest surprises of the year.