Manchester by the Sea

Loss and grief—and the messy, indirect ways people cope with the emotional fallout—were the dramatic linchpins of writer-director Kenneth Lonergan’s first two films, You Can Count on Me and Margaret. And so it is again with Manchester by the Sea, a movie with a grand scope but an intimate story. An ambitious, practically novelistic exploration of the tragedies that have greeted a blue-collar Massachusetts family, the film touches on themes that won’t be unfamiliar to viewers, but Lonergan’s particular approach makes them unique, although not always completely successfully. Still, Manchester by the Sea is a commanding, absorbing work in which the sum of its impact may be greater than any individual scenes.
The film stars Casey Affleck as Lee Chandler, a Boston handyman who wanders through a pretty lonely life taking out other people’s trash and fixing their stopped toilets. Lonergan spends considerable time setting up Lee’s humdrum existence so that we’re properly moored in his world before he gets some terrible news: His older brother Joe (Kyle Chandler) has died from a heart attack. Heading home to Manchester-by-the-Sea to handle the funeral arrangements, Lee is hit with a second shock. In Joe’s will, he requested that Lee become the foster parent of his 16-year-old son Patrick (Lucas Hedges). Considering that Patrick’s mom (Gretchen Mol) is an alcoholic who left town long ago, Lee is the only person who can really take care of the boy.
Those would be enough traumas for anybody to absorb, but Manchester by the Sea has more tales of woe to unleash upon the viewer, including the reasons why Lee and his wife Randi (Michelle Williams) split up years ago. (As a hint, it has something to do with the three children they had when they were still pretty young.) Lonergan focuses mostly on the present as Lee returns to his hometown, but he nicely weaves in flashbacks to show the incidents that led the Chandlers to the position they’re in now. Flashbacks are a common filmic device, of course, but for the most part Lonergan invests them with an emotional connectivity to the present-day scenes so that we understand why Lee is choosing to remember a certain past experience right now.
As opposed to the intimate, short-story quality of You Can Count on Me, Manchester by the Sea bears the same sprawling ambition as Margaret, Lonergan draping the proceedings in a tragic grandeur that sometimes rubs against the film’s inherently hushed modesty. (Frequent use of classical or orchestral music during key scenes artificially amplifies the drama in ways that simply aren’t necessary: The filmmaker’s story is resonant enough without the extraneous musical oomph.)
Perhaps it’s here where I should own up to the fact that, while eventually I came around to a begrudging respect of Margaret (which barely got released by Fox Searchlight and went through several edits before hitting theaters), I’ve always preferred the minute heartbreak of You Can Count on Me to the soaring, rambling, chaotic sturm und drang of Margaret. With Manchester by the Sea, Lonergan continues in a similar tonal vein as Margaret, emphasizing the ugly, impolite disorderliness of grief. To my eyes, though, Manchester packs a tighter, more focused wallop.