“I never wanted fame, I just became a Kennedy.”
In the week following the assassination of President John F. Kennedy, Jacqueline Kennedy grapples with the pain of losing her husband, her status as first lady of the U.S. and the life to which she had become accustomed. In the aftermath of the events of that week in 1963, Jackie comes to that conclusion about herself while meeting with her priest, a moment that brings the entire struggle of “Jackie,” directed by Pablo Larrain, to a head.
That conflict comes from Natalie Portman’s performance, which is equal parts riveting and heartbreaking, as the former first lady navigating her private grief while striving to uphold the dignity of her late husband’s presidency. Portman’s Jackie springs into action, defying her public image of a refined debutante behind closed doors, while working to create a legacy out of her husband’s short time in office with the spectacle of his funeral.
“Jackie” focuses less on the historical aspects of the week following Kennedy’s assassination—though Lorrain does incorporate footage from old newscasts as often as possible—and more on analyzing the fabric of Jackie’s character. Portman expertly mines the tension and awkwardness between the public and private perception of Jackie while relaying the events of the week to journalist Theodore White (Billy Crudup).
While Portman remains consistent in her performance, the timing of the film, meant to highlight the uncertainty of Jackie’s life following her husband’s death, gives the audience pause in piecing together the events of the week. This would have been more effective if the startling confrontations and reflections on her husband’s death were more evenly interspersed with Jackie’s quiet moments of contemplation.
As she retells the story of her first week as a widow to White, the audience sees Jackie’s metamorphosis in different situations, whether she’s with her husband’s equally ill-fated brother, Bobby (Peter Saarsgard), her personal aide, Nancy (Greta Gerwig), or her priest (John Hurt) to whom she makes her grand confession, and Portman shines as she embodies each of these different iterations of her character.
Portman reconciles the indulgent and extravagant aspects of Jackie’s character with the strong-willed first lady looking to create something for the American people out of a nationwide tragedy. Crudup’s character puts it best in comparing JFK’s death with America losing its father, and Jackie stepping in to be the country’s mother. Maternal comparisons aside, Jackie controls the narrative of her conversation with White, alternating between being truly transparent and heartbroken with being sardonic and biting, before historically comparing her late husband’s presidency to the Arthurian legend of “one brief shining moment that was known as Camelot.”
Though the film is essentially a look into the private life of Jackie directly following the assassination of JFK, Portman’s portrayal is no weak widow overcome by grief. There are some tearjerking moments, yes, but ultimately the film is about Jackie’s attempt to justify her extravagance by creating something grand out of her sudden perceived devolution into nothing. “There won’t be another Camelot,” she insists.
3.5 stars (out of 4)
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