Columbus has simultaneously been one of the most talked-about films of 2017 and one of the most elusive. In the months since the film's premiere at Sundance, Kogonada's directorial debut has received endless praise, but it was never picked up by a major distributor, thus permitting only a very tiny theatrical release. But with the film now on VOD, I finally got the chance to check it out. And trust me, this is one that you won't want to miss. I knew from the opening minutes that Columbus was something special- this is an immediately striking film, one that is both profoundly thoughtful and visually arresting. It's a contemplative, soothing experience, a ode to the smaller moments in life that will fill you with a kind of peaceful melancholy. And to top it all off, the film is led by Haley Lu Richardson and John Cho, who give two of the most quietly understated performances of the year. Columbus is a marvelous little gem, an exceptional debut from a filmmaker with an eye for aesthetics and character, as well as a keen understanding of cinematic history.
Columbus has a way of slowly revealing information to the audience that is simply brilliant, so I'm going to try to be as vague as humanly possible in this synopsis. The film is set in Columbus, Indiana, a small town that just so happens to feature some of the first modernist buildings in the world. Casey (Haley Lu Richardson) is a young librarian who has a love/hate relationship with the town, a town that she has been stuck in since she was 5 years old. She loves the architecture, but some of her most painful memories also come from Columbus. Meanwhile, Jin (John Cho) is just visiting Columbus to care for his architect father, who fell ill while preparing to give a talk. Casey and Jin strike up an easy-going friendship, discussing architecture, their relationships with their parents, and the possibilities of the future. As Casey and Jin enter a tumultuous crossroads, they'll both have to make decisions that will shape the rest of their lives.
When I read on IMDb after watching the film that Kogonada wrote a dissertation on the work of Yasujiro Ozu and had been involved with a documentary on Richard Linklater, I was not surprised in the slightest. Columbus feels like Linklater by way of Ozu, and if that combination of names means anything to you, I have no doubt that you will absolutely love this movie. Kogonada has delivered one of the most technically impressive directorial debuts in recent memory, a film where every single frame feels like a meticulously crafted work of art. He has a predilection for capturing spaces with an intense eye for detail, and his devotion to the stillness of images is mesmerizing. Kogonada knows the power of a single frame, and he trusts his audience to adapt to the speed of the movie. Columbus is undeniably slow, but the way that it eases the viewer into the story is calming and beautiful, achieving a complicated kind of brilliance.
Columbus is highly concerned with the way that places shape people. The town of Columbus is practically the star of the film, giving each scene a sense of character and deeper meaning that evolves as the story continues. Casey's personality is developed alongside the architectural achievements of Columbus, and Jin's personal crisis evolves into acceptance due to his exploration of these buildings with Casey. It's an interesting twist on this kind of story, and the way that Kogonada captures the locations feels both natural and precise. The cinematography by newcomer Elisha Christian is spare and clean, blending the drab nature of small town America with the plainspoken innovation of the sculptures and buildings. These gorgeous locales are only made more poignant by Hammock's wonderful score, one that ties everything together into a blissful state of euphoria.
But as much as Columbus stands as a wonderful technical accomplishment by a talented group of newcomers, the genius of Kogonada's film comes from the way that his style serves the characters and the narrative. For all of its minimalist tendencies and Ozu-inspired filmmaking, Columbus ultimately belongs to Haley Lu Richardson and John Cho. Richardson, who broke out in The Edge of Seventeen and (to a lesser degree) M. Night Shyamalan's Split, solidifies her talent with this performance, one that displays a truly impressive emotional range. Casey is many things throughout the course of the film- she's utterly impossible to dislike, she's thoughtful and caring, she's anxious and mournful, and she has been forced to grow up way too fast. Working with Kogonada's excellent script, Richardson makes Casey complex and nuanced, never defined by one thing or another. She's hiding a lot of pain, and Richardson captures that careful facade with grace and poise. John Cho is equally wonderful as Jin, a difficult and challenging character forced to deal with his anger and discontent in a unique manner. Cho is both kind and stoic- it seems like Jin is always thinking and judging, carefully considering everything around him. But there's a warmth to Jin, a warmth that emerges at unexpected moments.
Columbus tells a beautiful story, one of pain and loss, friendship and connection, and ultimately, growth and acceptance. It's easy to say that it's a movie about having the courage to move on and confront the way that the past shaped us, but it's harder to describe the way that it made me feel. While Kogonada borrows from the best, it never feels like Columbus is ripping off the talky philosophizing of Linklater or the meditative spirit of Ozu. Kogonada has his own thing going here, and it creates an atmosphere that is simply indescribable. The film certainly captures the feeling of middle America, but there's something deeper, something that feels almost otherworldly. Columbus is mellow and understated in all the right ways, a film that deals with heavy issues in a reflective, relaxing manner.
Columbus is a small film, and in all likelihood, not many people will see it before the year is over. But that's too bad- it's powerful and moving in a very quiet way, something that is all too rare these days. As thoughtful and intricate as the modernist buildings that populate its gorgeous setting, this terrific little indie is compact, effective, and paced to perfection. Led by the one-two punch of Richardson and Cho and the accomplished work of directorial breakout Kogonada, Columbus is truly tremendous. Even in an awards season jam packed with movies to watch, this is a memorable journey worth seeking out.
THE FINAL GRADE: A (9.2/10)
Columbus has a way of slowly revealing information to the audience that is simply brilliant, so I'm going to try to be as vague as humanly possible in this synopsis. The film is set in Columbus, Indiana, a small town that just so happens to feature some of the first modernist buildings in the world. Casey (Haley Lu Richardson) is a young librarian who has a love/hate relationship with the town, a town that she has been stuck in since she was 5 years old. She loves the architecture, but some of her most painful memories also come from Columbus. Meanwhile, Jin (John Cho) is just visiting Columbus to care for his architect father, who fell ill while preparing to give a talk. Casey and Jin strike up an easy-going friendship, discussing architecture, their relationships with their parents, and the possibilities of the future. As Casey and Jin enter a tumultuous crossroads, they'll both have to make decisions that will shape the rest of their lives.
When I read on IMDb after watching the film that Kogonada wrote a dissertation on the work of Yasujiro Ozu and had been involved with a documentary on Richard Linklater, I was not surprised in the slightest. Columbus feels like Linklater by way of Ozu, and if that combination of names means anything to you, I have no doubt that you will absolutely love this movie. Kogonada has delivered one of the most technically impressive directorial debuts in recent memory, a film where every single frame feels like a meticulously crafted work of art. He has a predilection for capturing spaces with an intense eye for detail, and his devotion to the stillness of images is mesmerizing. Kogonada knows the power of a single frame, and he trusts his audience to adapt to the speed of the movie. Columbus is undeniably slow, but the way that it eases the viewer into the story is calming and beautiful, achieving a complicated kind of brilliance.
Columbus is highly concerned with the way that places shape people. The town of Columbus is practically the star of the film, giving each scene a sense of character and deeper meaning that evolves as the story continues. Casey's personality is developed alongside the architectural achievements of Columbus, and Jin's personal crisis evolves into acceptance due to his exploration of these buildings with Casey. It's an interesting twist on this kind of story, and the way that Kogonada captures the locations feels both natural and precise. The cinematography by newcomer Elisha Christian is spare and clean, blending the drab nature of small town America with the plainspoken innovation of the sculptures and buildings. These gorgeous locales are only made more poignant by Hammock's wonderful score, one that ties everything together into a blissful state of euphoria.
But as much as Columbus stands as a wonderful technical accomplishment by a talented group of newcomers, the genius of Kogonada's film comes from the way that his style serves the characters and the narrative. For all of its minimalist tendencies and Ozu-inspired filmmaking, Columbus ultimately belongs to Haley Lu Richardson and John Cho. Richardson, who broke out in The Edge of Seventeen and (to a lesser degree) M. Night Shyamalan's Split, solidifies her talent with this performance, one that displays a truly impressive emotional range. Casey is many things throughout the course of the film- she's utterly impossible to dislike, she's thoughtful and caring, she's anxious and mournful, and she has been forced to grow up way too fast. Working with Kogonada's excellent script, Richardson makes Casey complex and nuanced, never defined by one thing or another. She's hiding a lot of pain, and Richardson captures that careful facade with grace and poise. John Cho is equally wonderful as Jin, a difficult and challenging character forced to deal with his anger and discontent in a unique manner. Cho is both kind and stoic- it seems like Jin is always thinking and judging, carefully considering everything around him. But there's a warmth to Jin, a warmth that emerges at unexpected moments.
Columbus tells a beautiful story, one of pain and loss, friendship and connection, and ultimately, growth and acceptance. It's easy to say that it's a movie about having the courage to move on and confront the way that the past shaped us, but it's harder to describe the way that it made me feel. While Kogonada borrows from the best, it never feels like Columbus is ripping off the talky philosophizing of Linklater or the meditative spirit of Ozu. Kogonada has his own thing going here, and it creates an atmosphere that is simply indescribable. The film certainly captures the feeling of middle America, but there's something deeper, something that feels almost otherworldly. Columbus is mellow and understated in all the right ways, a film that deals with heavy issues in a reflective, relaxing manner.
Columbus is a small film, and in all likelihood, not many people will see it before the year is over. But that's too bad- it's powerful and moving in a very quiet way, something that is all too rare these days. As thoughtful and intricate as the modernist buildings that populate its gorgeous setting, this terrific little indie is compact, effective, and paced to perfection. Led by the one-two punch of Richardson and Cho and the accomplished work of directorial breakout Kogonada, Columbus is truly tremendous. Even in an awards season jam packed with movies to watch, this is a memorable journey worth seeking out.
THE FINAL GRADE: A (9.2/10)
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