CODA

Director: Siân Heder
Starring: Emilia Jones, Troy Kotsur, Daniel Durant, Marlee Matlin, Eugenio Derbez, Ferdia Walsh-Peelo, Amy Forsyth, Kevin Chapman
Running Time: 111 minutes
Rating: PG-13

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

At first glance, there doesn't appear to be all that much to CODA, but that's exactly why it stands out as entirely different, yet warmly familiar. It's an intimate yet universal character-driven story told exceptionally well, functioning as a deserved break from some of the more bloated, self-important awards season entries. And while its received some criticism for being one of those crowd pleasing, heart-tugging Sundance favorites, that label qualifies as a compliment under these circumstances. In both concept and execution, you could argue writer/director Siân Heder's coming-of-age drama is downright rebellious for establishing itself as the kind of film that's increasingly more difficult to release and make these days, especially at this level.

In adapting the 2014 French film, La Famille Bélier, Heder straightforwardly asks the audience to accept the premise at face value with refreshing honesty, bringing the goods to back it up. The surprises come not without any twists or turns in a plot that's pretty basic in an efficient way, but how intelligently observed the details are within it. The genre to which this belongs is nothing new, but the specificity of the situation is, and that's where the movie upends expectations, proving to be exactly what we've sorely missed of late. Featuring a brilliant, somehow completely overlooked lead performance and a supporting one deserving of every bit of acclaim it's gotten, it leaves you on a high, representing a true tipping point in its depiction of deaf characters on screen. But the real joy comes in losing yourself so fully in the story that this fact seems like an afterthought. 

17 year-old Ruby Rossi (Emilia Jones) is the CODA (child of deaf adults) of the title and the only hearing member of her family consisting of parents Frank (Troy Kotsur) and Jackie (Marlee Matlin) and brother Leo (Daniel Durant). All are deaf and use American Sign Language, with Ruby acting as de facto translator as her dad and brother work in the fishing business in Gloucester, Massachusetts. With Frank and Leo having new sanctions imposed on them by the local board that have made their jobs far more financially challenging, Ruby struggles to fit in at school. Somewhat of an outcast, she impulsively signs up for the choir to get closer to her crush, Miles (Ferdio Walsh-Peelo). But after she overcomes the nerves of performing in front of her classmates, choir director Bernardo "Mr. V" Villalobos (Eugenio Derbez), hears true talent, offering Ruby private lessons so she can audition for Berklee College of Music in Boston. Stuck between pursuing her own dreams or staying home with the family who depends on her, she's faced with a potentially life altering choice. 

The story Heder tells flows smoothly and easily and the actors are so natural that it becomes impossible not to get swept along for the ride. Actually shot in Gloucester, there's an authenticity in having this anchored by a predominantly deaf cast who, aside from Oscar winner Matlin, aren't widely known to the public, but bring a specific perspective to the roles that may have otherwise slipped through the cracks.You have to imagine the film would have an entirely different feel had we not been granted access to deaf people using sign language, working and seeing them in scripted, but realistic situations.

It's not a stretch to claim only a small percentage of viewers probably have interaction with those in the deaf community, likely making the portrayal eye-opening for many. To watch it without the benefit of subtitles only magnifies this experience, although what's most surprising about that is how anyone with no understanding of ASL could still follow because of the actions and reactions of the characters. Conversely, there's also a feeling of not completely grasping everything that's going on in certain scenes and having to fill in the blanks, creating a certain disorientation that mirrors the themes of the plot. 

While it's been unfortunately rare until now seeing deaf people in films running a business or having sex lives, Seder's script doesn't put a an exclamation point on it, playing the scenes exactly for what they are. Nor does she overlook the toll it's all taken on Ruby as the only hearing family member, put in the odd position of translating and sometimes even advocating for her parents at appointments or in social situations. Mocked and bullied by her classmates when she was younger for speaking like a deaf person, there's a certain amount of shame and embarrassment surrounding how she feels about her family. And after finally finding something she excels at and enjoys, it's now fear and guilt holding her back. That none of this comes across as sappy lies in English actress Emilia Jones' performance, which has unfairly been the least talked about aspect of the film's success. In nearly every scene, she's not only believable as this shy, awkward teen being pulled in two directions, but her singing's great and exactly what's needed for what Heder's trying to accomplish.

Sensing Ruby's potential while knowing she lacks the confidence to truly let go, Eugenio Derbez is terrific as Mr. V, avoiding a lot of cliches that accompany inspirational teachers on screen. He doesn't easily suffer fools and has no intention of wasting his time on someone who doesn't really want it, putting Ruby at a crossroads just as parents seem to need her the most. The idea that they can't fully appreciate her gift without the benefit of hearing is challenged throughout, specifically in Ruby's relationship with her father, Frank, played by Troy Kotsur. The theater vet steals every scene with priceless mannerisms and expressions that reflect both the character's warmth and sometimes vulgar sense of humor and frustration without words. 

In what's probably Kotsur's most memorable moment, Frank watches Ruby perform with only the audience's reaction to guide him, his face conveying a complicated mix of isolation and pride. As Jackie, Matlin excels in depicting a mother and wife striving equally hard to keep this family going, giving the actress the rare opportunity to play against type as a working class matriarch fighting to make ends meet. And in just a few scenes, Daniel Durant conveys in Leo the mounting, bubbling pressures that have come from often being on the outside looking in.  

Functioning as a reminder of how movies have recently overcomplicated things and need to get back to basics, it contains the dramatic DNA of some beloved low budget 90's indies, back when that was considered a positive. But it's actually better than many of those by being more surefooted in what it's trying to do, clocking in at a compact 111 minutes before arriving at a tearjerker of an ending that actually feels earned.

Thanks to the acting, the characters are lived-in and we grow to care about them as people rather than screenplay board pieces rearranged on a whim to serve the plot. To an extent, every film peddles in some form of manipulation, but the key comes in either hiding that so well it's barely noticeable or sometimes even just truthfully wrapping its arms around that conceit as kind of an armor against the allegation. CODA somehow does both, culminating in an effort that's capable of converting even the most jaded and cynical of moviegoers.