In confusion. In the interior

In Soviet times, starting years since the 60s, there was a fashion for the role of Lenin of the most unexpected actors, not only deprived of external similarity, but had the role contraindicated for such a role-for example, Kalyagin or Smoktunovsky. It is clear that it was required, on the one hand, to shake Naftalin from the eternal image, and on the other, the image was already so eternal that anyone could play it. Women played Hamlet. Lenin-woman, however, seemed to be not.

The director of the film "Jackie" Pablo Larrain is a Chilean and therefore, perhaps, is not obliged to represent the Kennedy myth as the American is supposed to represent him. He can make displacements and condenses in it, play with the scale, in some way to do the work of the dream. And instead of a high, strong and broad -faced jacqueline Kennedy with a tenacious and predatory look on the screen - a fragile and nervous Natalie Portman, a little girl among solid men and women, gloomyly rising above her. The choice of Portman for this role is not so shocking, but deliberately leaves some gap between the actress and the historical person, especially against the backdrop of the relative similarity of other actors with their characters.

This Jackie will have to try to be heard. She pulls one or the other, most of all Robert-Bobby Kennedy (Peter Sarsgard), with the requirements contrary to each other: there will be a mourning procession, there will be no procession, you need to urgently talk with Lee Harvey Oswald, more horses, less horses, it will go through the main entrance to the cathedral, no, through the rear ... She is in chaos, trying to hold away the expressing one From the hands ... what? Power? Influence? Position? She herself does not know. And the film does not help her get out of this chaos, on the contrary, he himself is infected.

Bobby sadly notes that they were “just beautiful people” (almost people with beautiful faces), but did nothing. What did she do? I started repairs in the White House, changed furniture, launched money from the federal budget, for which her husband reproached. I furnished the residence as a furniture salon - so many all kinds of chairs, armchairs, boots and goats there. With burning eyes, she drove a tour that was shot by television people to show the Americans that it was a real house where people live. The repair was completed, and the husband died - almost everyday history. Now all these “furniture” will have to pack and take it with you. It was as if she did not have time to move out of a house in which she did not manage to go out of one outfit to another, without releasing a cigarette from the fingers after the murder, she paints her lips, try on their necklaces and rings, wanders with a glass in her hands from the room to the room, as if trying in an accelerated pace, in one night, to live what was still supposed to. Bobby Kennedy knows that there is no “heritage” left from his brother. And she really guesses vaguely. She has one thing left - the funeral, but she also comes up with them on the go, AD hoc . For example, he puts a record with his beloved musical and composes that America under Jack was the Camelot of King Arthur ... This PR ridge will take root. But others often find themselves to her. In the film, the story is presented as if after the death of Kennedy ceased to interest those who are in the corridors of power. As if he was immediately written off, as if he had not been. And Jackie is rushing about almost like Antigon, although the conditional Creon, Lindon Johnson (John Carroll Lynch), who flickered on the screen a couple of times, did not forbid her anything.

Real Jacqueline Kennedy was confident in herself and knew what she wanted. The real Robert Kennedy in the first hours and days after the murder feverishly seized and hid an extensive compromise accumulated in the White House and the oval office. On the same day on the same day, on the same day, on the same day, on November 22, Lindon could be removed from his post for corruption, but in the end he became a good president and carried out reforms that Kennedy wanted to carry out, but could not. What is not in the film, seemingly trying to rely on historical evidence - a book written from the words of Jacqueline Kennedy by a journalist from L IFE - can be listed for a very long time. Kennedy’s murder is one of the main historical secrets of America. In some ways, this is the American “Dyatlov Pass”: as there, the data at the entrance does not agree on what happens at the exit. Therefore, this is a favorite material for conspiracy theories, alternative history, speculative fiction , etc. But Larrain is not even trying to play in this field, where even without him there are enough people. Then, if you do not want to take off the usual Bayopic about the icon of the Jackie style, glossy and banal, there is nothing left to like to ground the story, close plans to closer to faces and bodies. There is no secret, conspiracy, big politics. There is a woman in pink, smearing her husband’s blood in the face, leading meaningful and incoherent conversations with a journalist and priest, trying to prove something to the world. There is confusion and confusion with which the mourning ceremony is designed to give an appropriate form. But the ceremony flashes in spectacular fragments, without creating the promised catharsis. The image does not freeze, continues to tremble meaninglessly. Another historical film about the impossibility of a historical film.