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Torrin Blades-Sutherland

Dr. Joanne Valin

TYP008

27 May 2020

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Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie proposes, “Stories matter. Many stories matter. Stories have

been used to dispossess and to malign, but stories can also be used to empower and to humanize.

Stories can break the dignity of a people, but stories can also repair that broken dignity.” The

truth in this quote unfolds when one considers how important storytelling is to human survival.

The impact of a good story can nourish the minds of generations but begs the question, what

makes an impactful story? Although all stories matter to some degree, there are arguably some

more important to the overall improvement of the narrative form as a whole. Take the television

show House, for example. Each episode has the same rhythm, allowing viewers to predict the

plot trajectory and timing of the climax. There is often something comforting about this sort of

familiar rhythm, but if one considers the episodes that remain memorable, it is always the ones

that deviate from the cliché - the episode where House got it wrong.

Ultimately, deviation is what brings an impact; stories that challenge the conventional

way of storytelling along with their subject matter. Personally, I recall being uncomfortable

leaving the theatre after watching Barry Jenkins’ film, Moonlight (2016). In consideration of the

underlying tensions between the so-called conscious, black community and the LGBT

community, it is plausible to assume that my own discomfort surrounding the film stemmed from

the single story I have experienced in relation to my blackness and its prescribed heterosexuality.

However, the narrative structure of Moonlight challenges the danger posed by singular narratives
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like the one I have experienced by implementing an inventive, dramatic scheme, signified by

separate chapters. Contained within each chapter is its own three-act story, outlining a more

accurate depiction of the human experience through its main character, Chiron, rather than

enforcing the same conventions of blackness. Viewers are encouraged to follow the story closely

as this method challenges viewers’ expectations, keeping audiences engaged by cutting away to a

later time period just as viewers begin to recognize the trajectory of the story.

To begin, unlike most films, the first image presented in Moonlight is not the main

character, Chiron, but an image of Juan, a local drug dealer. The setting and exposition bring the

audience to a crack-ridden ghetto in Miami. The first act, “Little,” begins with Chiron as a child.

He is not the typical hero as he struggles to recognize his sexuality in a crime-ridden Miami

suburb, dealing with his crack-addicted mother and being influenced by the only male figure

available to him, Juan. The inciting incident occurs under the moonlight during Juan’s story

when Little poses some difficult questions to Juan. He asks Juan about being his mother’s drug

dealer and proceeds to question whether he is a so-called “faggot” and how he would know if he

were. The central question established at the end of the first chapter is whether Chiron will find

comfort in his sexual identity in an environment that looks negatively upon homosexuality based

upon those he has around him. Consequently, the primary chapter comes to a close without

necessarily addressing this central question, leaving the audience to reflect on their own response

to Chiron’s concern.

The second act, or chapter, “Chiron” tells the story of Chiron as a teenager and his

struggle with bullying as he comes to realize his sexuality. Kevin is introduced as the love

interest of Chiron, prompting Chiron’s first sexual experience. However, the school bully, Tyrel,

persuades Kevin to beat up Chiron and a beating ensues. Chiron realizes that any hopes he had at
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being with Kevin are gone because his feelings for him are not valid to the rest of his community

as portrayed by the actions towards him. The climax ensues when Chiron decides to assault Tyrel

with a chair at school. Chiron is arrested concluding chapter two, leaping forward in time again,

eventually coalescing into a broad picture of who Chiron grows up to be. The break in the

storyline leaves another space for our audience to gauge their reaction to the violence of a young,

black man, angered by his inability to exist as he feels.

  Lastly, the third act, “Black,” introduces Chiron as a hard drug dealer in Atlanta. Chiron

has enveloped everything that his culture has influenced upon him and is now masking his

sexuality/identity. Upon receiving a phone call from his mother, who is now in rehabilitation,

and a phone call from Kevin who apologizes for the past, Chiron attempts to reconcile past

transgressions with his loved ones. Chiron’s mother recognizes her treatment toward Chiron and

reveals that she has always loved him. In hopes of making another connection, Chiron makes his

way back to Miami to meet Kevin. He looks for any signs that Kevin is still interested in him,

but confesses that he tried to forget their past and make himself a different person. Chiron then

admits that he is gay, and he still has feelings for Kevin. Consequently, the climax of this scene

and the resolution of the film at length is when Kevin embraces Chiron at the end of Moonlight,

leading the audience to question whether Chiron and Kevin will have a future together. The

significance of this scene is that it forces the audience to envision a reality, which is in fact a

reality, of two black men caring for each other in a way that is often disregarded by the black

community at large.

In conclusion, the need for a linear and clear narrative arc can directly harm the chances

of effectively communicating subject matter that does not fit into the dominant culture’s

preconceived notions of storytelling. The societal need for a linear three-act structure is just as, if
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not even more, powerfully felt when it comes to stories, like Moonlight, that examine queer

sexuality and/or blackness through an alternate form. Even though stories that follow the

dominant cultural idea can be true, they are also limited to retelling the same story over and over

again, erasing the identity of individuals like Chiron, who do not fit into the common worldview.

Moonlight’s chaptered, dramatic structure was most interesting because it told Chiron’s story

through three different time periods, mimicking the ups and downs that we all experience with

our identity. Although technically linear, the audience grows with Chiron in intervals, never

seeing him in between what is presented on screen, allowing the viewers to fill in the gaps. A

story is fluid, and Moonlight appeals to this characteristic of stories by including the audience in

the design of its narrative. A life unfolds in this film, and it is free to take its viewer’s to places

they have never been before, or have not visited in a while due to the threat of the single story.

Works Cited