May December

May December ★★★★½

Charles fucking Melton. I don’t want to reduce a movie that’s clearly crafted with so much skill to create scenes brimming with unease to a single performance, but Melton is so absurdly good that without him, I’m not sure how this movie reaches those insane harrowing levels. His body language, his mannerisms, his delivery— he is the personification of stolen innocence and your heart breaks for him. 

Portman, Moore, the campy piano melody that plays after a reveal, the dressing room shot, the Portman letter monologue— all pieces of a sick and tragic puzzle that is May December. 

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