Mike Mills' C'mon C'mon

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A spoiler-free description of the movie.

A radio journalist has to take care of his precocious young nephew.

If you like these things, then you’ll like the film.

▶ Audiobooks by Joaquin. Sometimes Joaquin Phoenix reads to you in this movie. And you and I both know — he has a voice for audiobooks, goddammit.

▶ Character-driven storytelling. The plot moves, but this one is really about the characters.

▶ Movies that know what to do with text messages. C’mon C’mon visually treats text messages the same way as closed captions. It feels right and I don’t know why.

▶ Cities and soundscapes. The film is delivered in a beautiful black-and-white palette. The cityscapes, accompanied by equally rich soundscapes, are a marvel.

What I liked about it.

Writer-director Mike Mills’ C’mon C’mon is a tender, haunting portrait of a family that is undeniably going through it. Not entirely unlike Aftersun, in my view.

C’mon C’mon is an extraordinarily well-acted, character-driven work about family and the intuitive nature of our kids: the way they quickly detect the elephant in the room, despite our (often) foolish efforts to hide it.

Joaquin Phoenix and Gaby Hoffman turn in tender performances dripping with the sort of understated, genuine charm you’d expect from each of them.

No doubt, though, the star of this show is the young Woody Norman, who plays Phoenix’s nephew. His portrayal of Jesse is nuanced — capturing the mix of joy, sadness, and compartmentalization that children in his circumstances often exhibit.

The chemistry between Norman and Phoenix is palpable. The laughs they share are infectious. The fights and frustrations, heartbreaking. The whole piece practically shakes you and says “Son, I wish I’d said I love you more when you were a kid.”

Daddy: if you’re reading this — it’s okay. I love you.

Anywho. The film is drop-dead gorgeous. Irish cinematographer Robbie Ryan — who also worked on Poor Things and American Honey — shot the film with a steady hand in a mesmerizing black-and-white palette.

Ryan reportedly went out on weekends to shoot the most breathtaking images of cityscapes set against natural imagery that scaffold much of the film.¹

You might say, Blake, I’m trying to watch a movie. Not stroll through a photography exhibit. Well, I’m not going to sit here and tell you I’m not pretentious. But I am who I am, so here.

These shots are lush, detailed mosaics of the modern American city. Textured as an antique rug, daring you to think about the difference between natural beauty and that which is man-made. Tell me I’m pretentious. Say it. See if I care.

Much like me, C’mon C’mon is much more than aesthetics. Sound is an essential part of the storytelling in the film. Fitting, given the lead character is a radio journalist, almost never without a boom mic and recording equipment.

This turns out to be a clever storytelling device, providing characters an escape hatch from conversations they can’t handle. Tuning in and out at will, with a simple point of the boom mic. Recording is used as a way for the lead characters to understand each other more deeply, often without conversing.

The writing in C’mon C’mon is specific, endearing. Cutaway scenes don’t feel generic — they feel lived-in. When Jesse interrupts bedtime stories with questions, the things he asks feel as out-of-the-blue as the questions I’ve personally fielded thus far as a father.

It all feels very sincere. And ultimately, C’mon C’mon is the kind of introspective, unflashy storytelling I didn’t realize I wanted more of in today’s age of spectacle storytelling.

Enjoy the film.

A fact or two about the production that makes you say “oh, neat”.

▶ The children interviewed in the film are not actors. Joaquin Phoenix's character, Johnny, is a radio journalist who interviews children about their thoughts on the future. The children featured in these segments were real kids, not actors, and their responses were authentic and unscripted.²

▶ The "orphan game" Jesse plays was inspired by a real child. Director Mike Mills got the idea for the "orphan game" from the daughter of musician Aaron Dessner, who co-composed the film's score. Mills felt the game was a powerful way to show how children process and play with complex and dark themes.³

One great line of dialogue from the film.