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Natalie Portman is optimistic about the growing number of women in elected positions, but she knows change in Hollywood won’t come as swiftly as it did in congress. Portman is a founding member of Time’s Up, the anti-harassment initiative formed as a response to #MeToo and the Harvey Weinstein scandal. In response to a question about whether people in Hollywood are embracing inclusion riders — a contractual obligation that ensures film and TV productions hire more women, people of color, LGBTQ people, and people with disabilities — Portman told Deadline there is still resistance to the idea.

“There is a resistance because I think a lot of people are making the argument that you’re hiring someone for their talent, not for their gender,” said Portman, citing an example that top orchestras used to be all-male until some began a blind audition process, which naturally created 50/50 gender parity. “It goes to show that we have so much bias in not recognizing talent and allowing it to express itself.”

The concept for inclusion riders was first created by the prolific Dr. Stacy L. Smith at USC’s Annenberg Inclusion Initiative, though very few people knew what it was was until Frances McDormand forcefully called for its use during her Best Actress acceptance speech at the 2018 Academy Awards. Since then, Time’s Up has embraced the idea as part of its advocacy work.

In September, Warner Bros. became the first major studio to implement a company-wide inclusion policy, partnering with actor and producer Michael B. Jordan to increase diversity and inclusivity in front of and behind the camera. (Its parent company, WarnerMedia, also owns Turner and HBO).

“Of course, no one wants to get a job because of their marginalization, you want to get the job because of your talent,” said Portman. “But there are so many who don’t get the opportunity since they are marginalized, and there are those who actually appreciate others’ values, talent, and voices.”

In her newest movie, Brady Corbet’s “Vox Lux,” Portman plays a difficult rock star named Celeste, a Lady Gaga-esque figure who is haunted by a tragic event from her past.

When asked if she’s noticed an improvement in the quality of roles for women, Portman said, “it’s still really challenging, there’s a lot of tropes that are repeated and revisited. Also for women of color, it’s extremely difficult to be represented.” She noted recent milestones like “Crazy Rich Asians,” the first studio movie centered on an Asian-American woman in 25 years, but added that Latinx stories are still grossly underrepresented.

Portman added, “There’s a lot to be done when it comes to giving more opportunities to other people, and allowing people from all types of experiences to tell their stories.”

Source: Indiewire

Oscar winner Natalie Portman sits down on TODAY to talk about her new movie, “Vox Lux,” in which she stars as a troubled pop diva who survived a tragedy.

Director Brady Corbet‘s Vox Lux is like the warped, nasty sibling of A Star Is Born. The film starts, quite literally, with a bang, when teenager Celeste (Raffey Cassidy) is the sole survivor of a school shooting. Footage of Celeste singing at a memorial service sweeps the nation, blasting the young girl into the pop-star stratosphere thanks to Jude Law‘s savvy talent manager. Flash-forward a decade or two and Celeste—now played by Natalie Portman, going all out for this role—is a Gaga-esque superstar, but the years in-between have sharpened her naive edges into something much more tragic. Vox Lux has been pretty divisive among critics, but I really dug it; like Celeste herself, the film is a wicked piece of work, but you have to admire its ambition.

Before Vox Lux‘s debut, I sat down with Natalie Portman and Raffey Cassidy to discuss the film. Check out what they had to say in the player above and below is exactly what we talked about.

Natalie Portman and Raffey Cassidy:

  • Their thoughts while reading the script’s jarring opening for the first time.
  • How the film uses a lot of long takes where the camera is following the performers from behind.
  • Their perspective on the film’s line about pop music: “I don’t want people to have to think too much, I just want them to feel good.”
  • Why the film makes a point several times to show that Celeste has lost her hotel room key.
  • Balancing complex dance choreography with staying in character.
  • VOX LUX, A 20th Century Portrait, begins in 1999 when teenage Celeste (Raffey Cassidy) survives a violent tragedy. After singing at a memorial service, Celeste transforms into a burgeoning pop star with the help of her songwriter sister (Stacy Martin) and talent manager (Jude Law). Celeste’s meteoric rise to fame dovetails with a personal and national loss of innocence, consequently elevating the young powerhouse to a new kind of celebrity: American icon, secular deity, global superstar.

    By 2017, adult Celeste (Natalie Portman) is mounting a comeback after a scandalous incident almost derailed her career. Touring in support of her sixth album, a compendium of sci-fi anthems entitled, “Vox Lux,” the indomitable, foul-mouthed pop savior must overcome her personal and familial struggles to navigate motherhood, madness and monolithic fame.

    Featuring original songs by Sia, an original score by Scott Walker and a transcendent performance by Natalie Portman – VOX LUX personifies the cult of celebrity and pummels the zeitgeist, it’s an original story about the forces that shape us, as individuals and nations.”

    Source: Collider

    Natalie Portman in Vox Lux

    “The Childhood of a Leader” director Brady Corbet’s sophomore effort behind the camera, “Vox Lux,” is a stunning piece of cinema. This hypnotic and impressive drama will shock audiences with its prologue, a horrific scene involving a school shooting that sets the story in motion, and it will also bewitch or bewilder viewers with star Natalie Portman’s phenomenal performance, most notably during a concert sequence that comprises the film’s finale. In between, there are plenty of ideas — arguably too many — for folks to chew over and digest.

    Act 1 of the film, entitled “Genesis,” takes place in 2000-2001 when Celeste (Raffey Cassidy) survives a school shooting and is inspired to write and perform a song at a vigil. Her anthem about anger, violence and grief becomes a hit and she is soon courting a record deal. A mature teenager, she hires a manager (Jude Law), works with the label’s publicist (Jennifer Ehle), and takes dance cues from a choreographer before heading to Stockholm for a performance. This all happens relatively quickly, as Corbet, who employs a handheld camera and speed-motion photography, captures the urgency of the action and the passage of time.

    But even as narrator Willem Dafoe explains Celeste’s devotion to God, music, and her sister Eleanor (Stacy Martin), there seems to be something else at work here. And therein lies the fascinating subtext of “Vox Lux” — it’s a satire and a cautionary tale told in reverse. The film is certainly being ironic when Celeste states, “I don’t want people to think too hard. I just want them to feel good.” Corbet’s film, about the loss of innocence, is neither breezy nor upbeat. It’s a dense, intense film that mirrors Celeste’s never-ending dream of speeding through a tunnel. It throws viewers into a suspended state, a limbo where one is not always sure of what is being shown, but it is impossible to look away. That’s what makes it great.
    Click for Sound

    Act 2 of the film, “Regenesis,” takes place in 2017, and opens with a shooting on a Croatian beach. The terrorists wear masks like the one Celeste wore during a video she made back in her teens. Now, Celeste is 31 years old and played by Natalie Portman. (In a canny bit of casting, Raffey Cassidy, who played Celeste in Act 1, plays Celeste’s daughter Albertine in Act 2; Stacy Martin plays Eleanor, Celeste’s sister, in both acts).

    Portman arrives in the film like a force of nature, tearing into her role with reckless abandon. Portman is so much fun to watch behaving badly that viewers may actually root for her to self-destruct; she is that entertaining. Her Celeste is a motormouth, as seen in a hilarious lunch scene with her daughter in a New York diner where she rants about Eleanor and begs the counter staff to serve her a decent glass wine in a to-go cup. She gets into a fight with the manager who simply wants a photo. The scene shows how quickly the once-mature Celeste had devolved into an entitled egoist, and Portman delights in making a dramatic exit. (She gets another opportunity in her hotel after a fight with her sister.)

    However, Portman never makes Celeste a camp figure, despite her character’s silly hair, makeup, and costumes (all of which are appropriate). She plays her press conference scenes like a performance — giving folks the “show” she thinks they want (or expect) from her — by saying reprehensible or incomprehensible things. Celeste, once meant to be a symbol of strength and resilience, now comes across as unconstrained and unbearable. This may be why she is beloved by fans, but not by anyone who knows her.

    Corbet deliberately lets viewers connect the dots and determine what to think about Celeste, her politics and celebrity. The film, which is elliptical at times, also can go over-the-top, but his approach challenges and provokes the audience. There are themes of rebirth, discussions about morality, manifestos of radical nihilism, and ideas about coping with trauma, both individually and collectively, that resonate. But Corbet never insults viewers or holds their hand. A scene late in the film — where Celeste, having consumed copious amounts of drugs before her concert, insists on stopping the car and heading out on to a beach to have a moment of silence — may be earnest, or it may be sardonic; viewers will have to decide for themselves.

    Moreover, the film’s big finish, an extended concert sequence featuring Celeste, is an absolutely wondrous. Portman gives it her all, gyrating around the stage in a slinky, too tight sparkly bodysuit while expressively singing lyrics like “I’m a private girl in a public world.” (The vapid songs — which are perfectly chosen — are by SIA, and the thumping beat is likely designed to bludgeon viewers). There is a tension as to whether the trainwreck of a celebrity that is Celeste will make it to, or through, her performance. But such is the magic of this spellbinding film; viewers come to care about Celeste, despite her being such a despicable person. Part of that is Portman’s edgy performance, but it is also Corbet’s remarkable achievement.

    Source: Salon

    “Vox Lux” stars Natalie Portman and Jude Law take the WIRED Autocomplete Interview and answer the internet’s most searched questions about themselves. What languages can Natalie Portman speak? What was Jude Law’s first movie? Where did Natalie go to college? Jude and Natalie answer all these questions and more!

    Natalie Portman’s performance of “Wrapped Up” from the Vox Lux original motion picture soundtrack featuring original songs written by Sia is out now!

    Natalie Portman and Raffey Cassidy’s new film, Vox Lux, follows the rise of aspiring entertainer Celeste, from the ashes of a major national tragedy to pop superstardom. With the film in theaters today, we sat down with Portman and Cassidy about the film, and the demands of their performances.

    Source A.V. Club

    With its extremes of experience and banal slightness of content, Brady Corbet’s rock-world melodrama “Vox Lux,” portentously labelled “A Twenty-First Century Portrait,” is an exemplary latter-day entry in the realm of cinematic camp. Corbet’s direction is sober, sombre, earnest, restrained; the film is heavy with allusions to historic events, such as the killings at Columbine High School and the 9/11 attacks, which define the movie’s tone and set the plot in motion. In a way, Corbet is dealing with great issues and making a major display of taking them very seriously. Yet the subject of the film is the burden of a young singer’s celebrity, and the incidental subordination of matters of life and death to the story of a rising and falling star renders the film’s heightened tone absurd, unintentionally comedic—all the more so in that the issue that Corbet approaches with the greatest seriousness is fame itself.

    The story is divided into three parts; in the first, labelled “Prelude 1999,” Celeste Montgomery (Raffey Cassidy), thirteen going on fourteen, a middle-school student in New Brighton, Staten Island, is gravely wounded in a school shooting. She recovers, and in the movie’s second section, “Act I: Genesis 2000-2001,” she and her older sister, Ellie (played by Stacy Martin), write a song, which Celeste performs at a church service. Somehow (in the era before social media) it goes viral, Celeste becomes a teen pop sensation, and, despite her religious background, begins to live it up, culminating in a night in a hotel with a rough-hewn hard rocker.

    In the second act, “Regenesis 2017,” Celeste—now played by Natalie Portman—has a teen-age daughter, Albertine (also played by Cassidy), as a result of that one-night stand. This “act” is also launched by a terrorist attack, one in which the attackers wear masks resembling the ones made famous in one of Celeste’s videos. Celeste’s life is in disorder—she is an alcoholic and a drug abuser, and she has been the subject of scandal, after injuring a pedestrian while driving and making racist remarks about the victim. Her “rebirth” depends on Celeste’s coming-home concert to her native neighborhood in Staten Island, where the 1999 shooting took place—and it also involves a reconciliation of sorts with Ellie (still played by Stacy Martin) as well as with Albertine (who has, for the most part, been raised by Ellie). “Vox Lux” illustrates that snarky aphorism that celebrities remain, throughout their lives, the emotional age at which they became famous. But the movie stands the concept on its head, depicting the eternal adolescence of Celeste as both a burden for her family and her entourage (even for herself) and also the wellspring of her success—of her ability to connect with an audience.

    What is it that makes a person from a seemingly ordinary background able to create something, with their very presence, that will incite the devotion of millions of people? What’s it like for them to become famous, to face the daily demands of fame? In short, what’s it like to be a brand, to be beloved by millions as an image of oneself, and how does an artist’s public identity correspond with her private life—which may be forced into the spotlight with one false move?

    The unrealized attempt to address these questions is, by far, the best thing about “Vox Lux,” even if it’s there only as a sketch. There’s a thread of psychological insight running through the film, the notion of idiosyncrasy, distinctiveness: Celeste is introduced into the film when she alone, among the students in her middle-school class, doesn’t cower from the shooter but stands up and tries to engage him (in prayer, she tells him). Her effort doesn’t dissuade him from shooting her; it only suggests that, even in eighth grade, with no obvious talent that makes her a child of destiny, Celeste is different. Her musical ability is middling at best. Rather, what she displays is, in effect, leadership—standing up to shift and shape a situation, to change it.

    Yet Celeste’s gift is a paradoxical one: it’s empathetic but impersonal, a connection that’s more a matter of impulse and desire, and that’s subject to a similar volatility, instability; it remains, ultimately, all about her. It arises from the same impulsiveness as do her rage and aggression. Corbet suggests that Celeste’s destructiveness is born not of her art but of her fame—that it’s entirely a by-product of being wrenched from her home and her family at too young an age and having her self-image distorted by her public image. “Vox Lux” is a coincidental retort to this year’s version of “A Star Is Born.” Bradley Cooper’s film says, in effect: work hard, be good, and your luck will make itself—unless you have the misfortune to have a traumatic background to overcome, in which case it will eventually overtake you. But Corbet’s film could be called, with apologies to Ozu, “A Star Is Born, But . . .”: the transformation of Celeste into a star comes off without a hitch. Rather, her biggest trauma turns out to be fame itself; despite her stable family background and her virtuous intentions, Celeste (a rather on-the-nose starscape name) is overtaken by the mechanisms and the power of celebrity itself.

    The thread of insight, thin but strong, makes the unfortunate dramatic incarnation of the film all the more disheartening. From the start, by tying Celeste’s first flush of fame to a historic event of tragic scope; by depicting the Twin Towers as icons of that time and then the new One World Trade Center (the home of The New Yorker’s offices) as an icon of the movie’s present-day section; by depicting another, recent, fictional act of terrorism that (in a heavily messagizing bit of historical feedback) borrows a trope from one of Celeste’s music videos, Corbet replicates the ugly media phenomena that he decries, the banalization of such grave experience through their reproduction in media. The film is narrated in a wanly philosophical and sententious voice-over, which Willem Dafoe delivers in an oracular, seen-it-all voice. (Hard to blame the actor; his tone is that of Corbet’s direction throughout.) “Vox Lux” sinks under the weight of its own bombastic earnestness. Unfortunately, it pulls one of the best modern actresses, Portman, down along with it.

    Portman is an actor of contradiction, one of the most dramatically expressive performers of her generation, a true classic movie star: the kind whose tremendous emotional radiance flashes brilliantly even in repose, the kind that depends more upon her mere presence than upon her performance, the kind that could be discovered by a studio talent agent when she was sitting at a luncheonette counter (as Lana Turner actually was). Portman (like Turner) isn’t primarily an actress of dialogue; of course, she performs it fluently, intelligently, expressively, but not spontaneously; the calculation shows. Her voice isn’t her most distinctive instrument. Rather, her speech is like a kind of background music to the singular power of her facial expressions, her gestures, her gaze, her presence. She’s one of the great physical actresses of this era.

    Unfortunately, Corbet has Portman do for the role of Celeste what she did for her Oscar-nominated performance in “Jackie”: she takes on an accent—in this case, a stereotypical white working-class Noo Yawk accent. (There’s a whole sidebar to be written about its use as a mark of cinematic authenticity.) Here, Portman channels what seemed, at first, to be the style of Lorraine Bracco, or maybe that of Cyndi Lauper; but when I heard one particular line of dialogue (in which Celeste tells Ellie, “You look like a retard”), the comparison leaped out: intentionally or not, Portman’s performance resembles that of Margot Robbie in “The Wolf of Wall Street.” The difference is that Robbie’s performance isn’t a psychological portrait but a character turn, and a comedic performance in a movie that is, also, a comedy (albeit a very serious one). Portman’s turn in “Vox Lux” is nearly as funny, unintentionally, as Robbie’s is by design. Corbet’s ponderous direction allows her only a few moments that reveal, in brief but quietly explosive visual asides (such as one in a mirror, and another on-stage), the art that makes her the star that she is.

    Source: The New Yorker

    From “Vox Lux” to “Annihilation,” she doesn’t shy from challenging performances. Here, she explains why.

    Natalie Portman shows up in the second half of “Vox Lux” like a hurricane, bursting into writer-director Brady Corbet’s mesmerizing portrait of self-absorbed pop star and overtaking the story. As Celeste, a beloved singer who survived a mass shooting in her youth and has been corrupted by fame, Portman embodies the sheer lunacy of modern popular culture.

    At the Q&A for the movie at the Toronto International Film Festival, Portman described her performance as “this commodification of everything, where violence becomes something you sell, news becomes something you sell, even private life does.” She singled out a scandal in the movie’s plot that finds armed gunmen wearing masks from one of Celeste’s music videos in a terrorist attack. “What brings a terrorist and a pop star in alignment is that people paying attention to them makes them valuable and gives them power,” she said. “That kind of commodification and attention is what we’re living through right now. It’s our politics, it’s our culture.”

    It’s heady, challenging material — and not an easy sell. “Vox Lux” is one of the few major TIFF titles to arrive at the festival (after its Venice premiere) without North American distribution, and whoever picks it up will face a unique marketing challenge with Portman’s dyspeptic character. Major buyers attended the premiere, but largely agreed that Portman’s name brought the movie its sole commercial hook.

    At the afterparty, the actress told IndieWire that Celeste’s uneasy attributes drew her to the role, citing Gena Rowlands in John Cassavetes’ “Woman Under the Influence” and “Opening Night” as key reference points. “Those are some of my favorite performances,” she said. “Those are movies I really admire and I always feel like those are the easiest characters to relate to because they’re so human. The more broken, the more fallible, the more faulted the person is, the more I think I can relate to them.”

    She added that she tends to stray from more likable types. “The hardest thing for me is characters you’re supposed to admire,” she said. “I don’t get it.” She laughed. “It doesn’t seem like a person to me,” she said. “I connect to someone who’s, like, having a hard time or not always the person they want to me, or messing up. That’s what feels human to me. It’s much more exciting for me to play.”

    Her filmography bears this out. “Vox Lux” plays like a spiritual sequel to “Black Swan,” but the character’s psychological duress as she contends with the power at her disposal suggests aspects of “Jackie” as well.

    Earlier this year, she starred in “Annihilation,” Alex Garland’s heady sci-fi thriller that put her at the center of a cryptic story where her motives were unclear throughout. The movie also faced tough commercial prospects: Paramount dumped the movie in theaters and sold international rights to Netflix. Portman shrugged off the potential risks of the two projects she’s tackled this year. “As an actor, you just start trying to help fulfill the director’s vision and really just try bringing everything you can creatively,” she said. “The rest is up to the business people. The most interesting thing for me is working with people who I feel push me creatively and intellectually, have great ideas, create a lot of freedom and the circumstances that you can really explore creatively.”

    In “Vox Lux,” Portman upped her game from her “Black Swan” days with another dazzling onstage performance, this one requiring her to sing. Celeste’s music (actually original compositions by Sia) is unveiled at the close of the movie in dynamic stage performance that finds Portman dancing and belting out songs in a giant stadium. It’s the first time she’s carried a tune onscreen since Woody Allen’s musical “Everyone Says I Love You” in 1996, though she said of that movie, “I don’t really consider that one a singing role.” For “Vox Lux,” she underwent very little preparation. “I didn’t really prepare,” she said. “Brady wanted to show that you didn’t really have to be very good to be someone like this. I was like, ‘Shouldn’t I, like practice? Shouldn’t I perform?’ He was like, ‘Nope!’” She did receive some counseling from a vocal coach. “It was really very much like a production, with the sound producers doing their magic,” she said.

    For the dance movies, she reunited with her husband, “Black Swan” choreographer Benjamin Millepied. “It was really fun because we got to prepare everything at home,” she said. As soon as the credits rolled on the movie, audiences started a guessing game to determine the real-life inspiration for Celeste’s character: Miley Cyrus? Lady Gaga? Portman declined to answer. “It’s definitely not based on one person,” she said. “There are little details taken from real people that I’m sure everyone will be able to intuit. I definitely stole little details that I found in different documentaries.”

    The jarring performance matches a movie designed to keep audiences off balance. Corbet’s constant use of long takes propel viewers into a lively environment of tense backroom strategy sessions and unnerving arguments as Celeste clashes with everyone in her orbit. Portman said she loved the approach, used almost exclusively in her scenes.

    “Long Steadicam takes are just the best as an actor,” she said at the Q&A. “We can just play. It’s not like little fragments. You kind of get to have the whole shape of a scene and go through it and try different things. …It felt very fun and alive in a way that’s very uncommon.” Corbet, standing by her said, chimed in. “Only really great actors love long takes,” he said.

    Source: Indiewire

    In Vox Lux and Gloria Bell, respectively, a pair of best actresses show what they’re made of.

    There’s nothing surprising, exactly, about Sebastián Lelio’s Gloria Bell, at least not if you’ve seen Sebastián Lelio’s Gloria. Gloria Bell is a remake of that great 2013 Chilean film (not a remake of John Cassavetes’s Gloria—that one already got a remake in 1999), about a woman in middle-age, divorced and an empty-nester, who’s struggling to find traction. It’s an almost exact replica, minus the setting (the action has been moved from Santiago to Los Angeles), and it’s equally amiable and sweet and sad. Gloria Bell does have some American movie star lift, though, in the form of a delicate but purposeful Julianne Moore.

    Gloria lives a quiet kind of life, working in insurance and tending to her adult children when they’ll let her. She has her small passions, particularly dancing, which she does most often at what appears to be a discotheque for the almost-AARP set. Gloria Bell’s soundtrack is full of disco and easy-listening stuff from the 1970s and ’80s, presumably the music that was popular when Gloria was in her salad days, and Moore slinks and grooves and sings along to these tunes with her usual natural expressiveness.

    Though there is something a little self-conscious about Gloria when she dances, maybe because she’s also out to meet men. Twelve years divorced and maybe a little lonely—we can only infer that, as Gloria Bell’s script is sparing with its emotional exposition—Gloria could use some company. She finds that in John Turturro’s Arnold, much more recently divorced and still entangled with his ex-wife and dealing with difficult daughters. As much as there is a traditional plot to Gloria Bell, it’s in its tracking of that relationship, as the two—both laden with, and of course made wiser by, decades of personal history—negotiate their way into each other’s lives.

    But really, Gloria Bell is more of a felt film than a strictly narrative one. Lelio weaves some casual visual poetry into the film, bursts of color and motion that briefly hint at something surreal just on this film’s margins. He mostly relies on Moore, though. With good reason! She’s such a precise actress that the most minor of shifts, in tone or pose or expression, communicates a whole internal arc. It’s one she rides all the way to the film’s glorious (heh) close, a moment when Gloria starts finding herself anew in all the fullness of what she already has. Which is to say, herself—her body, her life, her perspective on the world. This is a subtle Moore performance, and yet it still does a lot, offering a kind of permission to singleness that feels generous and kind.

    Movies like Gloria Bell tend to be referred to as small. Which makes some sense, given that it’s set in the here and now and doesn’t go for any high drama. But there is expansive emotional terrain being explored here, a landscape of setbacks and disappointments and moments of cautious hope that Moore articulates beautifully. Moore won her long-overdue acting Oscar four years ago, and this is the first role she’s had since that’s allowed her to use the full range of the piercing intelligence that so animates her best work. Moore is a true empath, understanding how much the little details of a character’s life come to bear on the bigger picture. Her work in Gloria Bell is almost therapeutic in all its rich insight. We’re lucky to have her.

    Existing on the whole other end of the acting spectrum, but in a good way, is Natalie Portman’s bonkers turn in Brady Corbett’s sophomore feature, Vox Lux. A dark and daring film about a pop star named Celeste whose public identity is forever tethered to a childhood tragedy, Vox Lux is not easy viewing. Indeed, there were many walkouts during the premiere screening in Toronto (at least in the balcony, where people could safely skitter away without the filmmakers seeing).

    I can understand why, to an extent. Corbett is an ambitious provocateur, marrying ugliness with filmic beauty in a way that borders close to cruel manipulation. I’m thinking in particular of the film’s opening, which depicts a school shooting with harrowing bluntness. It’s an excruciating scene, and I’m not sure that what follows really earns all that initial torture.

    Still, Vox Lux is worth keeping with if only to get to Portman, who shows up about halfway through the film. In the first stretch, young Celeste is played by Raffey Cassidy, as Celeste surfs a surreal wave of viral fame from a memorial service to the beginnings of major music career. She’s shepherded along, with kindness and a faint whiff of creepiness, by Jude Law. (His character is just billed as “the Manager.”) Cassidy is a curious creature, still and watchful with a slightly sinister, dark-eyed stare. I gather Celeste is supposed to be a little unsettling, as she turns what we have to assume is some post-traumatic stress into a quickly intensifying hunger for stardom.

    Corbett and his cinematographer Lol Crawley stage some gorgeous and ominous moments in this first half, the film moving with a gliding, Kubrickian menace. There’s a particularly striking sequence, sped-up and grainy, in which we see Celeste and her sidelined sister traveling to Sweden, young teenagers on the make, living a whole riot of adolescence in just a minute or two. (All while Willem Dafoe narrates.) Corbett, whose first feature, The Childhood of a Leader, made a notable festival rumble three years ago, is definitely a talented technical filmmaker. Much of Vox Lux is arresting to look at and listen to (Scott Walker composed the film’s keening score).

    It doesn’t come together, though, neither in form nor idea. The commentary Corbett is making on how fame and tragedy intersect, heroes and villains existing on different sides of the same coin, forever in perverse dialogue with one another, is muddled. (So muddled that I could be totally wrong about what Corbett is trying to say.) I appreciate the way he so violently insists that we confront the reality of school shootings—that they are frequent enough to become a cinematic trope, as device-like as a car chase. And yet Vox Lux’s aggression doesn’t push us anywhere profound, or even coherent. It’s a lot of flail with not a lot of payoff.

    Then again, enter Natalie Portman. As adult Celeste, Portman immediately makes clear what was not at all apparent in Cassidy’s stiff portrayal of the character: Celeste is a tough-cookie daughter of Staten Island, with a swagger to match her gnawing egomania. Portman strides into the movie with such a burst of broad energy that it feels like she quite literally walked in from another movie. It’s a go-for-broke kind of performance, as full-tilt as her actorly brinkmanship in Jackie, and nearly as successful. Portman’s Celeste is outsize and theatrical, and yet like Moore’s far quieter work, there’s also a lot of specific stuff going on.

    As Celeste yaws wildly from rage to drug-addled self-pity to steely straight-talker, Portman steers the performance with a beguiling control. It’s a thrill watching her dive into something like this, continuing her startling and exciting transformation from ingenue to nervy character actress. (At the moment, Vox Lux feels like the third performance in a trilogy, begun with Black Swan and followed-up by Jackie.) I’m sure there are some who think it’s all too much, that it doesn’t fit the context of the movie. On the latter point they’d be kinda right. As for the former, maybe my tolerance for “much” is higher than others, but I love the scale that Portman is working at in Vox Lux. It’s fun and perceptive, a well-observed embodiment of a certain kind of brassy person, encased in fabulous pop star clothes.

    Vox Lux ends with an extended concert scene (the song snippets were written by Sia) that goes on for too long and suggests Portman’s dance abilities are perhaps better suited to ballet. She’s still there, though, going hard at this fascinating performance in a movie that can’t quite keep up with her frenzy. Corbett is certainly one to watch, so long as he hones his inquiry and becomes a bit more discerning about his eager creative impulses. Portman, on the other hand? I hope she keeps dancing as fast as she can.

    Source: Vanity Fair