A Ghost StoryWhat does a ghost look like? Is it a trick of the light, a dancing rainbow on the wall...a wafting of smoke or fog through the air? Is it a person-shaped, amorphous form beneath a bedsheet, with two black spots for eyes? Would you feel the presence of spirits around you? Would a ghost be able to exert some influence on your existence, past or present? What does the ghost represent? Some deeper part of yourself cast off out of grief? The soul unshackled from time or space? All of these deep, persistent metaphysical questions are at the core of the introspective supernatural drama, A Ghost Story.
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(Other reviewers have rightly acknowledged that there is little means of escaping the inevitable "spoiling" of events in A Ghost Story while analyzing or discussing the movie. The trailer artfully manages avoiding this, but fair warning to readers of this essay in advance.) A Ghost Story is best described as a meditation on impermanence. It deals with the primal feelings of fear and grief that affect someone when a loved one dies. The story opens with a young couple in the process of moving out of their home for reasons never fully examined, but hinted at in small moments as some kind of break-up or other unresolved tension in their relationship. Although they are never named, they are credited as "C" (Casey Affleck) and "M" (Rooney Mara). Before the move is finalized, C is killed in a fatal car accident--right outside the house--and M experiences grief, which eventually yields with the passage of time. C lingers as a ghost, seemingly unable to interact with the physical world; he moves back into the home, and stays on even after M has gone. That is the plot of A Ghost Story; but the "real" movie is in the thought-provoking and evocative direction of writer and director David Lowery, who approaches the story in a way that demands the audience look deeper. The film demands that the audience look inward and empathize with the feelings and emotions of those who survive after a death, and even those who do not. Audiences of A Ghost Story will immediately notice the artificial borders surrounding the frame of the film, rounded edges on the already unorthodox aspect ratio of 1:33 to 1. This aspect ratio is reminiscent of older television sets with a squarish look, and the rounded edges give the film the feel of an old-fashioned home movie or antiquated photograph. What might be perceived as a stylistic gimmick is in reality a subtle way of giving A Ghost Story an "archival" feel, as though it were some chronicle of the past. C comments that he likes the house they live in because of the "history" of it; the past is an ever present force in A Ghost Story. A ghost is fundamentally like a residue or stain from the past, a haunting memory that doesn't completely fade. But more than being merely a reminder of the crash, the ghost of C represents what was unresolved in his relationship with M, and the feeling that no matter how close and intimate they were, there were unsaid feelings that lingered...just like C.
Some viewers may go into A Ghost Story expecting a supernatural horror film; instead, the film explores feelings of sorrow and grief left behind after death in an intense, visual way. There are shots of locations in and around the house--the exterior, the living room, the kitchen--that are held for a long time, as though they were being recorded and documented for the benefit of future generations. This is the same for a moment between C and M as they cradle one another after being awoken in the night, forcing the audience to identify with the feelings of intimacy they feel for one another. A Ghost Story features many shots that represent a door or corridor...a passage through space; this is another way the aspect ratio sets the tone of the film, since the claustrophobic framing parallels how C is confined to the "space" in and around the house. The archway leading from the living room to the kitchen is a large, square fixture, as are the windows the ghost of C silently stares out of. Even the door alluded to lead to the "other side" are square designs, as if these corridors were inviting him to move on from the pain that has shackled him to this world, and the unresolved longing he has for M. Although C cannot move through space, time passes, and seeing M leave only fosters bitterness and resentment that he eventually takes out on the subsequent tenants--this leads to the destruction of the home now reputed to be haunted. His only way of conversing is through the window with another ghost two houses down, on what must be the spookiest of rural side streets. Their "conversation" is subtitled, even if nothing of importance is said between them. Because C cannot face the feelings that are truly haunting him, he and the other ghost exchange only trivial dialogue.
C's afterlife is a hollow existence, sustained only by his own grief, although it could be said that M is responsible for summoning the ghost of C. M identifies the corpse of C at the hospital; after she leaves, this is followed by the surprising moment when he lifts his head on the gurney in the morgue, and walks around with the sheet previously pulled over his head now covering his whole body. Therefore, it is left to the viewer's imagination as to whether it is M who calls forth C out of her grief, or it is due to his own. He has the opportunity to leave this plane of existence and move on, but he refuses, consigning himself to a kind of limbo, out of step with time. Even after the house is destroyed, he remains behind as a cold, corporate office building is put up in its place. When he is at the peak of what appears to be a future where industry has consumed his surroundings, he loops back in time, bearing witness to an ill-fated pioneer family that lays the first literal stakes for what would become his home a couple of hundred years later. During one of these hauntings out of step with time, C listens to a somewhat one-sided conversation by a man in overalls--credited as the "Prognosticator" (Will Oldham)--who gives an alcohol-infused discourse on impermanence to a few party guests. Like A Ghost Story, the statements he makes are never wholly committed to one school of thought about whether mankind's efforts to leave their mark on the world are with or without merit. He speaks to the axiom of "memento mori", which translates as "remember you will die". It may sound depressing, but it is an inescapable truth; he also suggests that those who forget this are mad to a degree, or may even be the "seeds" which later germinate into ghosts. Following this line of thinking, the ghost in A Ghost Story is like a manifestation of hubris or ignorance. Because C never fully committed in life to being honest with himself or true to M in a spiritual sense has left him feeling--and then being--insubstantial and also impermanent. C lashes out at the family that buys his house after M leaves, because he is forced to acknowledge that there will be no resolution for them, and this revelation shatters him, because he knows it is his fault. On the other hand, M has worked through her grief, as painful and terrible as it was, because she understands that it is necessary in order to live the rest of one's life.
A Ghost Story is a film which demands the audience's attention; there isn't a lot of obvious "action", but the depiction of quiet intimacy challenges the audience to consider one's own emotions and feelings about a scene. There are few to no "jump out at you" moments or those that play on melodrama, although a story about the death of a loved one could be prone to this. There is very little dialogue in the film, and the plot is essentially a "skeleton" of events that ties together a series of meditative scenes. A Ghost Story could be described as the 2001: A Space Odyssey of ghost stories--driven by "pure cinema" and images more than dialogue and plot. A Ghost Story shares some motifs with the movie Beetlejuice, although the two films couldn't be more tonally different. Aside from the presence of ghosts--in designer sheets, no less--there is the sense that time is relative and that the ghost is confined to its home. Both films also deal with the challenges of moving on with life, even when that life is over, and being forced to adapt or exist as an unquiet spirit in a world you can no longer influence in a meaningful way. One scene early on involves M telling C that she used to leave small scraps of paper with a message in the homes where she used to live as a child; she does this before departing their home for good, slipping it into the molding like a secret message in a fortune cookie. In his efforts to finally understand her, C frantically scratches away at the paint, desperately trying to get at that message--his body language suggests that it will be the answer to all of the mysteries that plague him beyond the grave. A Ghost Story deals with legacy and the course we chart for future generations with our actions--like the message M leaves behind, and the Prognosticator's speech. C composes a song he shares with M one night (after one of their arguments), something she listens to again after he has passed away. What might be merely a musical interlude into what is mostly a very quiet film is revisited when C experiences the past of the family that would create the foundation for his home. He hears--very faintly--the youngest girl humming a tune which would become the same song C would later write. Did C pass this song along to the girl, or did the girl end up influencing him? She leaves behind her own "note" under a rock, roughly on the same spot where the persistent piano--like a ghost itself--would later occupy. Although these mysteries have no definite answer, they underscore a temporal resonance that runs through all of human existence--what better way to describe the soul?
Casey Affleck and Rooney Mara's performances are so natural and convincing, it is often that they seem as though they were not acting, but existing as these characters. The most telling scene illustrating the grief of M is when she comes home to find a pie left by her friend and realtor, Linda (Liz Franke). As she starts to cut a piece of it, she eats it directly from the pie tin, the first sign that she is ignoring normal elements of everyday life (like getting a plate). Little by little, with the ghost of C out of focus in the background, she collapses to the floor, eating the pie more and more furiously. It isn't until later in this intensely long held shot that we see a tear dripping down from her eyes and along her nose. It is a moment that captures that sense of grief so perfectly in little ways, like how those who are struck with grief may go days without eating, forgetting that their hungry. It also speaks to much more complex emotions, like the collapse of that iron fortress we all erect in order to keep those painful feelings at bay. But without looking inward, and without accepting this scary, unhappy part of ourselves, we can never fully get past it. Like C, those that do not understand and feel their pain are cast off like the skin of a snake--a phantom of their former selves, unable to progress down that proverbial corridor of life.
Recommended for: Fans of a contemplative and introspective drama about grief and the legacy we leave behind for others, as well as how important it is to not leave anything undone once the final bell has tolled on life. A Ghost Story is a bold act of filmmaking, defying expectations of ghost stories, and inviting viewers to experience the film through their own emotional responses, rather than having it dictated to them.
Some viewers may go into A Ghost Story expecting a supernatural horror film; instead, the film explores feelings of sorrow and grief left behind after death in an intense, visual way. There are shots of locations in and around the house--the exterior, the living room, the kitchen--that are held for a long time, as though they were being recorded and documented for the benefit of future generations. This is the same for a moment between C and M as they cradle one another after being awoken in the night, forcing the audience to identify with the feelings of intimacy they feel for one another. A Ghost Story features many shots that represent a door or corridor...a passage through space; this is another way the aspect ratio sets the tone of the film, since the claustrophobic framing parallels how C is confined to the "space" in and around the house. The archway leading from the living room to the kitchen is a large, square fixture, as are the windows the ghost of C silently stares out of. Even the door alluded to lead to the "other side" are square designs, as if these corridors were inviting him to move on from the pain that has shackled him to this world, and the unresolved longing he has for M. Although C cannot move through space, time passes, and seeing M leave only fosters bitterness and resentment that he eventually takes out on the subsequent tenants--this leads to the destruction of the home now reputed to be haunted. His only way of conversing is through the window with another ghost two houses down, on what must be the spookiest of rural side streets. Their "conversation" is subtitled, even if nothing of importance is said between them. Because C cannot face the feelings that are truly haunting him, he and the other ghost exchange only trivial dialogue.
C's afterlife is a hollow existence, sustained only by his own grief, although it could be said that M is responsible for summoning the ghost of C. M identifies the corpse of C at the hospital; after she leaves, this is followed by the surprising moment when he lifts his head on the gurney in the morgue, and walks around with the sheet previously pulled over his head now covering his whole body. Therefore, it is left to the viewer's imagination as to whether it is M who calls forth C out of her grief, or it is due to his own. He has the opportunity to leave this plane of existence and move on, but he refuses, consigning himself to a kind of limbo, out of step with time. Even after the house is destroyed, he remains behind as a cold, corporate office building is put up in its place. When he is at the peak of what appears to be a future where industry has consumed his surroundings, he loops back in time, bearing witness to an ill-fated pioneer family that lays the first literal stakes for what would become his home a couple of hundred years later. During one of these hauntings out of step with time, C listens to a somewhat one-sided conversation by a man in overalls--credited as the "Prognosticator" (Will Oldham)--who gives an alcohol-infused discourse on impermanence to a few party guests. Like A Ghost Story, the statements he makes are never wholly committed to one school of thought about whether mankind's efforts to leave their mark on the world are with or without merit. He speaks to the axiom of "memento mori", which translates as "remember you will die". It may sound depressing, but it is an inescapable truth; he also suggests that those who forget this are mad to a degree, or may even be the "seeds" which later germinate into ghosts. Following this line of thinking, the ghost in A Ghost Story is like a manifestation of hubris or ignorance. Because C never fully committed in life to being honest with himself or true to M in a spiritual sense has left him feeling--and then being--insubstantial and also impermanent. C lashes out at the family that buys his house after M leaves, because he is forced to acknowledge that there will be no resolution for them, and this revelation shatters him, because he knows it is his fault. On the other hand, M has worked through her grief, as painful and terrible as it was, because she understands that it is necessary in order to live the rest of one's life.
A Ghost Story is a film which demands the audience's attention; there isn't a lot of obvious "action", but the depiction of quiet intimacy challenges the audience to consider one's own emotions and feelings about a scene. There are few to no "jump out at you" moments or those that play on melodrama, although a story about the death of a loved one could be prone to this. There is very little dialogue in the film, and the plot is essentially a "skeleton" of events that ties together a series of meditative scenes. A Ghost Story could be described as the 2001: A Space Odyssey of ghost stories--driven by "pure cinema" and images more than dialogue and plot. A Ghost Story shares some motifs with the movie Beetlejuice, although the two films couldn't be more tonally different. Aside from the presence of ghosts--in designer sheets, no less--there is the sense that time is relative and that the ghost is confined to its home. Both films also deal with the challenges of moving on with life, even when that life is over, and being forced to adapt or exist as an unquiet spirit in a world you can no longer influence in a meaningful way. One scene early on involves M telling C that she used to leave small scraps of paper with a message in the homes where she used to live as a child; she does this before departing their home for good, slipping it into the molding like a secret message in a fortune cookie. In his efforts to finally understand her, C frantically scratches away at the paint, desperately trying to get at that message--his body language suggests that it will be the answer to all of the mysteries that plague him beyond the grave. A Ghost Story deals with legacy and the course we chart for future generations with our actions--like the message M leaves behind, and the Prognosticator's speech. C composes a song he shares with M one night (after one of their arguments), something she listens to again after he has passed away. What might be merely a musical interlude into what is mostly a very quiet film is revisited when C experiences the past of the family that would create the foundation for his home. He hears--very faintly--the youngest girl humming a tune which would become the same song C would later write. Did C pass this song along to the girl, or did the girl end up influencing him? She leaves behind her own "note" under a rock, roughly on the same spot where the persistent piano--like a ghost itself--would later occupy. Although these mysteries have no definite answer, they underscore a temporal resonance that runs through all of human existence--what better way to describe the soul?
Casey Affleck and Rooney Mara's performances are so natural and convincing, it is often that they seem as though they were not acting, but existing as these characters. The most telling scene illustrating the grief of M is when she comes home to find a pie left by her friend and realtor, Linda (Liz Franke). As she starts to cut a piece of it, she eats it directly from the pie tin, the first sign that she is ignoring normal elements of everyday life (like getting a plate). Little by little, with the ghost of C out of focus in the background, she collapses to the floor, eating the pie more and more furiously. It isn't until later in this intensely long held shot that we see a tear dripping down from her eyes and along her nose. It is a moment that captures that sense of grief so perfectly in little ways, like how those who are struck with grief may go days without eating, forgetting that their hungry. It also speaks to much more complex emotions, like the collapse of that iron fortress we all erect in order to keep those painful feelings at bay. But without looking inward, and without accepting this scary, unhappy part of ourselves, we can never fully get past it. Like C, those that do not understand and feel their pain are cast off like the skin of a snake--a phantom of their former selves, unable to progress down that proverbial corridor of life.
Recommended for: Fans of a contemplative and introspective drama about grief and the legacy we leave behind for others, as well as how important it is to not leave anything undone once the final bell has tolled on life. A Ghost Story is a bold act of filmmaking, defying expectations of ghost stories, and inviting viewers to experience the film through their own emotional responses, rather than having it dictated to them.