CODA movie review: Joyful coming-of-age story with supremely well-crafted performances, admirable nuance

Language: English The best way to describe Sian Helder’s award-garlanded CODA is that you’ve seen films like it before. Think of that coming-of-age story about a precarious teen finding her own voice in a world that often doesn’t care to listen to her desires. Or that moving table about an underdog family rising against all odds and coming to realise that even the harshest storms pass. Perhaps, you’ve seen it as that high school drama about a bullied girl finally standing her own ground or as a rousing account about a musical prodigy hitting the right notes. CODA is like all of these films, which is to say that you’re bound to be familiar with what it has to offer. But it’s also like none of these films, in the sense that you’ve never really seen a movie do something this way before. At its heart, CODA, which won the top three prizes in the US Dramatic category at this year’s Sundance Film Festival , is a movie about wanting to be seen for who you are. It’s a film about the power of family as well as the crushing weight of familial obligations. It’s a tale about moving on and yet not letting go. There are sacrifices, quiet achievements, ample rebellion, and romantic meet-cutes. But CODA, if the title is any hint at all, is most importantly, a film about endings — a story about closing doors instead of lingering near the doorknob, and starting afresh. But the title is also literal. The film, written and directed by Helder, revolves around 17-year-old Ruby Rossi (newcomer Emilia Jones in a career-defining turn), the child of deaf adults (CODA). Ruby is the youngest child of her fishermen family, which includes her mother Jackie (Marlee Maitlin), father Frankie (veteran stage actor Troy Kotsur), and brother Leo (Daniel Durant). She is the only hearing person in her family, making her the de facto bridge between them and the world. That inevitably means that her childhood was spent being their protector, instead of the other way around. Before school, she doubles up as a helping hand to her fishermen father and brother as well as their interpreter, solely focused on ensuring that they get a fair bargain from the world designed to shortchange people like them. [caption id=“attachment_9883731” align=“alignnone” width=“640”] Troy Kotsur, Marlee Maitlin, Daniel Durant in a still from CODA[/caption] “You have no idea what it feels like to hear people laugh at your family and have to protect them because they can’t hear it but I can,” Ruby declares to a classmate in one scene, summarising the agony of her existence. In many ways, Ruby has spent her whole life believing that she can never tear the umbilical cord that tethers her toward her family. And so, for 17 years, she has also forgotten that she is allowed to be her own person. College, for instance, never figured in her life plans. That comes to a head when Ruby, an introverted teenager with a passion for singing, joins the school choir and meets her match in music teacher Bernando Villalobos (Eugene Derbez). Bernardo instantly recognises her vocal potential, offering her a lead role in the annual school concert and encouraging her to audition for a Berklee scholarship. It’s as if for the first time, she gets to have a life that is at a remove from being her family’s guardian. But her family is at a crossroads too — they’re about to start an ambitious new fishing business and need her around. That her passion is something that her family will never be able to witness adds to the film’s stakes. Like any other film with a similar premise, CODA is centred on asking whether Ruby will do the right thing, but what sets it apart is that it is also the film that is equally invested in asking: Does Ruby really have to do the right thing? The answer to that, is winsome, even though the path, replete with dramatic plot twists and change of heart, is well-traversed.

If CODA stands out as the rare testament of a movie being immensely compelling despite being predictable, it’s primarily because of the supremely well-crafted performances and the Helder’s gaze.

Not once does she other Ruby or her family; CODA is instead told from their perspective, a narrative decision that proves to be rewarding simply because for most of the film it’s impossible to quite pinpoint why anyone would want to mock the Rossi family. In that, Helder makes a worthy point about not speaking down to a marginalised community when you can speak to them.

The performances are terrific across the board — the family of four share a deeply felt, genuine warmth that lights up every single frame and conveys the singularity of their tragedy without preachy dialogue. But Kotsur as the father trying to keep his family together is especially affecting. A standout climactic sequence where he asks Ruby to sing for him under the night sky and feels the reverberations on her neck, his face writ with longing, is unforgettable. As is another scene where Ruby quite literally sings for her family on the big stage. It really does make you laugh and cry, while giving you small moments to relish in between. It’s the little flourishes that make CODA such a delightful experience, if not an apt celebration of the movies. In the hands of any other filmmaker, this could have only been a movie about being taken for granted by your family. But in Helder’s assured hands, CODA becomes a movie about being rescued — by your family, and from your family. The nuance is admirable. The range of emotions that the film manages to conjure in under two hours, immensely satisfying. After all, the sound of music doesn’t just have to be heard; it can be felt too. Coda is now streaming on Apple TV+. Rating: 3.5/5 Watch the trailer here