Kimber Myers
This tender little movie sneaks up on you. For most of its 85-minute runtime, Jazzy is a character-driven drama that’s more focused on the small moments that make up a tween girl’s life than it is driven by the big beats of a traditional plot. Yet the final scenes reveal exactly how special of a film writer-director Morrisa Maltz has made, and just how outsized its emotional impact is with its tale of a girlhood friendship.
Jazzy serves as a follow-up to Maltz’s narrative feature debut, The Unknown Country, but this stands alone. Viewers who caught that 2022 Lily Gladstone-led film might find Jazzy an even richer experience than the uninitiated, but everything in Jazzy works well even for those who didn’t see Matlz’s previous work. Thankfully, this isn’t the MCU, where you’re required to have seen every movie and TV show, no matter how seemingly unimportant, for everything to make sense.
Instead, this feels true and familiar to its core, thanks to all of its details about the life of young Jazzy (Jasmine Shangreaux). We follow her from ages six through twelve, and we watch Jazzy evolve and change, living through all the joys and pains of growing up. It mostly focuses on her friendship with neighbor Syriah (Syriah Fool Head Means) and their daily interactions across their town. The girls are inseparable, until outside forces threaten to keep them apart.
Writers Maltz, Lainey Bearkiller Shangreaux, Vanara Taing, and Andrew Hajek based the script on stories from Jasmine Shangreaux and Means, and the dialogue feels like we’re simply eavesdropping on the conversations of these children and their classmates. Jazzy is marvelously authentic in its depiction of the everyday lives of young girls; we’re watching as these kids are just being kids, exploring the world around them and their place in it. They experience the fun and silliness of being young, but there’s also heartbreak from things they can’t control. What might seem like a small slight to a grown-up is a catastrophe to them, and it makes you remember what that felt like. Meanwhile, adults exist on the periphery in Jazzy, with parents and teachers present but off screen. Gladstone, who serves as executive producer alongside the Duplass brothers, revisits her role from The Unknown Country as Tana, but she isn’t the star here. Jazzy fully centers Jazzy and Syriah’s perspective and feelings, and it’s impossible not to feel everything they do.
Jazzy appropriately ambles at the leisurely pace of childhood. It drags a bit at times, but it’s a reminder of the benefits of taking it slow. Filmed across six years, Jazzy is a coming-of-age movie reminiscent of Richard Linklater’s Boyhood in how it literally grows with this kid as we see her learn and mature. Terrence Malick’s visual marks are also clear, seen in the dreamy cinematography from co-writer Hajek, lens flares, and shots of characters running through tall grass. Yet Jazzy still feels new; it isn’t just devoting its attention to a girl, but a Lakota girl, and the specificity of her experience makes this appear fresh amidst its influences. Editors Laura Colwell and Vanara Taing earned an Indie Spirit nomination for their work, with gorgeous montages that elevate the film as a whole into a quiet wonder.
“Friends are important. The most important,” Jazzy says near the end, with wisdom beyond her years. With its emotional conclusion, Jazzy reminds the audience of the value of friendship, with the effects of our childhood relationships echoing throughout the rest of our lives, if we’re lucky.
