A Most Violent Year

**Spoiler Alert**

Director: J.C. Chandor/Starring: Oscar Isaac, Jessica Chastain, David Oyeloyo, Albert Brooks and Alessandro Nivola

Director J.C. Chandor, who helmed Margin Call and All is Lost, furthers his artistic ambitions with his new film A Most Violent Year. The film is already awash in Oscar buzz and deservedly so; it is often intense and gritty and is a fearless examination of how our mythical notions about the American dream often ignore its less attractive qualities; opportunism, ethical and moral compromise and hypocritical, capitalistic piety. Not a trace of sentimentality or sunny, optimistic contraband infect the narrative. It is riveting and merciless in its depiction of the baser instincts and drives that motivate humans to not only survive but thrive. And just when you think the film just might grant the audience some surcease from its grim view of free enterprise struggle in early 1980s' New York, it reminds us forcefully how a bloody toll can often be exacted from such ambition.

Abel Morales (a terrific Oscar Isaac), along with his wife Anna (one more superlative performance by Jessica Chastain) own and run Standard Oil, a Brooklyn-based company that is rapidly expanding its client base, which often means running afoul of competition. Abel, though hardly a new arrival to American shores, still carries a conspicuous, immigrant identity.

The time is 1981, New York; statistically the most violent and crime-ridden year in the city's history. When the film begins, we see just how brutal competition in the city can be when a Standard Oil driver, Julian (Elyes Gabel) is assaulted by two gunmen who approach his vehicle as it idles inertly in traffic. The gunmen smash the windows, then pistol-whip Julian, who is left lying in traffic while the men make off with the truck.

Meanwhile, Abel and his staff member Andrew Walsh (Albert Brooks) negotiate a property purchase from a group of Hasidim. The riverfront location Abel covets is strategically economic, for it would facilitate oil shipping and receiving. As the two parties go over the terms and conditions of the transaction, we see how it poses a tremendous risk to Abel. The 30-day due date on full payment creates a narrative ticking clock, leaving Abel (and the audience) to simmer in anxiety.
The contrasting scenes give us some idea of the pressures and dangers Abel faces as he seeks to expand his business.

During his visit to Julian in the hospital, Abel sees his driver's broken jaw and discolored face. He apologizes and tries to reassure Julian. The attack leaves Abel wondering who might have perpetrated the assault, but he quite rightly suspects his competitors though the frightening possibility of mob involvement also heightens audience anxiety.

If the theft of the oil and the property sale aren't enough to trouble Abel, the Assistant District Attorney Lawrence (rising star David Oyeloyo) informs Abel he faces 14 counts of business violations. Abel is well aware that Lawrence has been assigned the unenviable task of cleaning up the sordid oil business. Though Abel insists his business is honest, we know from his office conversations with his wife and Andrew that his business carries a taint.

To fully finance the purchase of the property, Abel, Anna and Andrew have dinner with their banker. Abel's business acumen and unshakable confidence have their desired effect at the table, which leaves him and his wife confident of the bank's support.

Continued attacks on his drivers bring about the intervention of the Teamster's leader Bill O'Leary (Peter Gerety), who wants to arm the drivers; a proposition Abel vehemently rejects; knowing gun violence will most certainly jeopardize his business.

Pressured on all fronts, we learn Abel and his wife are of different minds about how to handle their problems; particularly the assaults on their drivers. Anna is tough, pragmatic and willing to get nasty, where Abel is more circumspect and aware of the consequences of heedless impetuosity. A scene that illustrates this eloquently takes place after the dinner with the banker. Driving on a darkened, snowy road, Abel's car strikes a deer. Sitting stunned while the car rests in the middle of the road, Anna reminds Abel he has to put the suffering creature out of his misery. While Abel tentatively approaches the wounded animal with a tire iron, we hear the jarring report of gunfire. The camera pulls back to reveal Anna discharging several shots into the animal. The darkly comic scene leaves us in awe (and maybe fear) of Anna's decisive aggression. We know their conflicting problem-solving methods will eventually clash.

What Abel fears most comes to pass when Julian draws a gun on assailants as they try to hijack his vehicle a second time on a crowded overpass. He fires the gun several times, which thwarts his attackers but invites the unwanted attention of the police, who give chase to the would-be hi-jackers and Julian alike. The gun incident places Abel and Standard Oil in a compromising position, which is enough to frighten his banker into denying him his crucial loan. Left high and dry, the payment to the Hasidim looms in Abel's immediate future.

In order to stay the Assistant District Attorney's aggressive investigation, Abel is forced to find Julian on his own and convince him to turn himself in. Meanwhile, his desperate, monetary plight forces Abel to seek loans in unlikely and undesirable places. His search for funding runs parallel to his search for the party/parties responsible for the attacks on his trucks.

In a scene highly inspired by the Godfather, Abel calls a meeting of the major heating oil company leaders in the area. Presiding like Don Corleone over the gathering, he makes an insistent plea for the robberies to stop.

Chandor expertly shepherds the story through its maddening convolutions. His fascinating characters and the authentic setting are so warmly conceived, one feels as if the film had sprung forth from 1970s' American cinema, when films like The French Connection and Serpico showed a seamier, less romantic New York. The aesthetic prevalent in those films is very much alive in Chandor's film: natural lighting, grimy backstreets and warehouses contrast strikingly with a city skyline (replete with the former Twin Towers) that seems hopelessly beyond the reach of his characters.

Sidney Lumet is being credited for his influence but William Friedkin and Francis Ford Coppola could share as much. Abel's car chase with a hi-jacked truck and the subsequent foot-chase on a subway platform and train are but a few nods to the French Connection while the aforementioned meeting and Abel's Michael Corleone-like (minus the violent tendencies) control are an allusive nod to Coppola.

In spite of its tight, terrific plot, the fuel that propels the story are the performances. Isaac and Chastain are nothing less than mesmerizing while Albert Brooks seems to have found a new niche playing morally-dubious characters and he does it well. Alessandro Nivola and David Oyeloyo don't skimp on their performances either in their supporting roles.

Chandor keeps the story moving and though the title suggests the film might be bloody, violence never really finds full flower, which is quite surprising; given our expectations.

It is very interesting that Chandor recognizes ethnic minorities as emerging economic and political forces in New York power-struggles. Abel's business ambitions and Lawrence's political aspirations represent the shift in New York's sociopolitical make-up.

Chandor's perspective on capitalism is decidedly cynical. Though Abel represents the best of a sordid lot, he is far from being a figure of unassailable probity. His "the result is never in question, just the path you take to get there," is a euphemized the end justifies the means. He also tells the district attorney he chose the right path to his success; which is ambiguous at best. Note that he says right and not righteous. What is right for Abel isn't necessarily the same as ethical. But A Most Violent Year, like its great 1970s' crime film pedigree, is too smart to believe the American Dream is a moral absolute. Chandor knows it sometimes sullies hands and bends character to its breaking point.

This is a masterful film, told with intelligence and precision. Chandor's talent is beyond question. I hope his next cinematic venture is as absorbing as his latest. He is someone to keep our eyes on.