I Am in the Middle of the World

Stop moving. Stop moving, for a beautiful realm of love and sorrow surrounds you. Stop moving, for you are in the middle of the world. 

Struggle much we do in a world cut and enclosed in rigidity, both physical and mental. We are stuck in dire routines and square buildings - tropes and stereotypes. Eventually, we swim back to the realm of art, and what beauty there is in being able to get lost in this fluid, all-encompassing dimension! It is in the art form of film that this fluidity is best captured. Film works at its utmost to balance a hundred different components for the sake of maximum immersion. There may be no greater example of this balance than in the swim lesson scene from Moonlight (Barry Jenkins, 2016). Here, the film collages organic-like cinematography, recurring lighting motifs, subdued costuming and performance, and dramatic scoring, to make the audience sink into the protagonist’s scene. 

The framing of the swim lesson provides the foundation for what makes this scene almost tangible. In this moment of the film, Chiron (Alex R. Hibbert) is being taught to swim by his father figure, Juan (Mahershala Ali). At one point, Juan uses his hands to make Chiron float belly-up; Juan tells him to relax and let himself float, because now, Chiron is “in the middle of the world.” The goal of this scene is to make the audience feel like they are Chiron, like they are that child who can just let it all go and float. The film achieves this by devoting its cinematography to realism, using a shaky handheld camera that simulates buoyancy. Moreover, the frame is placed at body level with Chiron, making Juan appear at a low angle; we are experiencing the scene from the perspective of a child being held by a nurturing parental figure. Looking beyond the story’s context, one can also relate this framing to that of a baptism, adding a layer to the idea that Chiron, like us, is being spiritually cleansed. The most triumphant technique employed, however, is having the waves crash into the camera’s lens. Between one-fourth and one-half of the frame is submerged underwater at any given point, letting the audience dive deep within Chiron’s subconscious. It emulates the feeling that one would have in this same position, with waves crashing into your eyes as you try to stay afloat. In this way, the frame completely devotes itself to being as organic and authentic as possible.

The lighting and color of skin tones add to this shot’s novelty and tie it to the film’s overarching motifs. The shadows on the actors’ skins have a blue tint; this not only unifies this shot with the overall color palette but also connects it to the motif of moonlight and the theme of innocence. The phrase “black boys look blue in the moonlight” looms over the entire movie. Having the shadows on the actors’ skins be blue is Moonlight’s way of drawing the audience to ponder the meaning of this phrase. These blue shadows allude to the innocence that every person holds. Despite age or social status, everyone holds remnants of that blue that ties them to their childhood; therefore, the idea is rephrased into “in moonlight, those who shine blue are black boys.” Additionally, Moonlight connects the film’s theme of racial identity with real-world racial issues in film. Since the dawn of cinema, film stock has been coded to better expose people with lighter skin. In response, Barry Jenkins and James Laxton oiled their actors in order to make their skin shine against the bad exposure of the film stock. By connecting the film’s lighting philosophy in this technique with film history, Moonlight is able to reach beyond the margins of the screen and question the representation of black people in film just as Moonlight’s characters themselves question what it means to be a black male in the modern world.

The swim lesson’s scoring immerses us further into the introspective world of Moonlight by acting as a microcosm of Chiron’s inner conflict. The scene’s lone violin and its disjointed melody feel detached, melancholic, and abandoned. As its strings are stroked, I feel as if the violin is desperate to find the rest of its ensemble. It cries and rumbles alone in the microdrama of its tune. This search for others, this elusive ensemble, is akin to Chiron’s search for love and support. Throughout the film, Chiron is neglected by everyone who is supposed to care for him: his mother, his friends, and his lover; so he searches for love in different people. At this point in the story, Chiron is able to find that love in Juan, capturing one of the few instances of Chiron’s freedom in the entire runtime.

Ultimately, does it matter that Moonlight uses its array of cinematic tools to immerse us in a scene? Yes. To construct a shot this way is to capture what defines the human condition. For a shot that can make its audience fly and float is also a shot that understands the essence of art as a conduit for emotion. Moonlight’s swim lesson was minutely composed to allow us to let everything go. It tells us to close our eyes and stop moving. Count to ten, and you’ll be in the middle of the world.