Nothing busts canons quite like living in interesting times. In our ongoing Inflection Point series, we look back at the films that have taken on new relevance due to our ongoing cultural and political upheaval. Some beloved, some undiscovered, these titles deserve newfound consideration as film criticism evolves to meet the moment.
How many of your principles can you abandon and still be considered a good person? This is a question that drives so many contemporary political editorials. With so much pain present in the world – and so many opportunities to turn a blind eye in favor of more ambitious goals – we, as a country, are struggling to decide what is right versus what is merely acceptable. This concept drives J.C. Chandor’s “A Most Violent Year,” an unconventional gangster film that draws uncomfortable parallels between capitalism and crime.
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Set in New York City in 1981, “A Most Violent Year” follows one family as it straddles two worlds. Abel Morales (Oscar Isaac) has grand aspirations for Standard Oil, the heating company that he co-owns with his wife Anna (Jessica Chastain). To sustain their upward growth, Abel and Anna must expand their property, which means undercutting their competitors on a choice piece of land. Abel meets with the Hasidim that owns the property and agrees to a set of risky terms, including a sizeable down payment that Standard Oil will forfeit if they cannot secure additional financing within 30 days.
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But with one eye firmly placed on the future of his company, Abel also recognizes that his success has put him in the crosshairs of his competitors and the ambitious ADA Lawrence (David Oyelowo). Standard Oil is under siege at both ends. While Abel attempts to discover who is stealing his shipments, he is also informed by attorney Andrew Walsh (Albert Brooks) that Lawrence plans to make Standard Oil the poster child for industry corruption and indict Abel on embezzlement and extortion. With his options narrowing and the clock ticking on his purchase, Abel must navigate the byzantine systems of influences in New York City – both legal and illegal – to provide for his family’s future.
If there is such a thing as an anti-gangster movie, J.C. Chandor has created it. The New York City of “A Most Violent Year” might be awash in violence – many scenes open with a floating radio voice describing the death and violence of New York for those on their morning commute – but there is only a smattering of violence to be found onscreen. We hear more conversations with teamsters about the viability of unlicensed firearms than actual gunshots; for as much as the oil industry has changed since Abel was a driver, the violence perpetrated in the film seems almost performative. Unsurprisingly, this makes the film the A24 approximation of the gangster movie, an ostensible genre film otherwise preoccupied with man’s journey into a metaphorical hell.
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Isaac plays the young entrepreneur as a man of principle. Despite a recent rash of carjackings, he is unwilling to let his drivers carry firearms for fear that things might escalate beyond his control. When one young driver disobeys his order – firing an unlicensed handgun in self-defense on a crowded Brooklyn parkway – it is Abel’s discipline that drives his actions. Many gangster movies might treat Julian’s character (Elyes Gabel) as a parallel to Michael Rappaport’s character in “Cop Land,” a mafia McGuffin whose testimony could make or break a criminal career. But Abel is always straight with his young ward, doing his best to balance his interests against Julian and his family’s needs. In this way, “A Most Violent Year” reflects its protagonist, more interested in the path of respectability than the path of least resistance.
But the lack of violence in Chandor’s film might also be owed to its most influential character. Abel may present himself as a self-made man to his allies, but there are whispers that Anna’s father – a major player in the Brooklyn mob who goes unseen throughout the film – is the quiet force behind the business. During one particularly ugly fight, we learn that Abel likely purchased Standard Oil from his father-in-law at a considerable discount. Doors have opened to him because of his relationship with Anna; there may be genuine affection at the heart of their relationship, but both Anna and Abel are too smart not to recognize the legitimacy they offer each other. Their marriage allows him to navigate the underworld and her to navigate high society, both subcultures they would otherwise seem unapproachable.
This opens the door to a more nihilistic read of “A Most Violent Year,” one that focuses less on Abel’s strict moral code and more on the arbitrary nature of the systems he inhabits. From a bank that is willing to overlook only so much negative publicity about its clients, to a District Attorney’s office that is more interested in a splashy arrest than industry reform, the Morales family power structures are evidence of his philosophical failing. Abel may believe in a choice that is always the “most right,” but this philosophy presupposes a degree of agency he does not possess. His ambition seems tied to these restrictions, pursuing a career that will provide him with power that goes far beyond his finances.
And at the heart of it all is Anna, the gangster daughter-turned-socialite who is all-too-willing to make the choices that Abel cannot. In one pivotal scene, Abel and Anna hit a deer on a drive home from a business dinner; when Abel – tire iron in hand – hesitates to kill the wounded animal, Anna steps out of the background and shoots the animal in the head. Anna may come from a family of monsters, but this has given her a resolve that Abel – for all his moral grandstanding – has not and will never develop. This makes Anna the real driving force. Chastain plays her to perfection, a woman more frustrated than disappointed with her husband’s arbitrary boundaries.
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It should come as no surprise that “A Most Violent Year” is ultimately a film about capitalism, where what is legal and what is “industry standard” – a line often repeated by both halves of the married couple – are rarely one and the same. It is easy to create metaphors for consumerism when the victim is obvious; Chandor’s “Margin Call” remains one of the best films to explore the greed that drove the Great Recession. Here, though, the choices are less overt. What good are your principles in an industry where everyone else has turned to extortion and violence? And how can you expect to succeed when local law enforcement seems to be in the practice of kingmaking?
Whether “A Most Violent Year” is about a good man in an impossible situation or a charlatan with a taste for power may depend on where you sit. If the only thing needed for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing, then one must ask themselves exactly how much evil can flourish when “good” men indulge themselves just a little in making things worse. There are no easy or likable answers here, but then again, that’s part of the fun.
