It’s been called “hypnotic” by many. Jackie, the very real tale made tall before it was captured on camera, is, by no means, an “ordinary” biopic. It’s not even really a “biopic” even. The minutes, hours and days after President Kennedy’s assassination, from his newly widowed First Lady’s more emotional than literal perspective and interpretation, make up the better portion of the film – better meaning majority. The better – high quality – moments of the film are the ones that follow Jackie when she is all up in her own head, alone when surrounded by a crowd or stuck with her own silence in a bedroom. Perhaps some viewers are struck by the flower like delicacy of her movements than the almost speculative yet completely evocative inner chaos she experiences. They see her blood soaked dress and hear her softly pained voice, risking not being able to feel the full picture. Maybe this movie IS “hypnotic” for the many, playing a trick and playing with trickery.
I’d rather call it “horror”, but that’s me.