I’ll call it a film triptych as three periods of time, three locations, and three types of cameras parallel Jobs’s three historical product launches.
If you’ve watched The West Wing or The Newsroom, you’ve already taken a class in “sorkinese.” Aaron Sorkin writes with poignant, often profane cutting banter but has an uncanny ability to allow great actors to shine and the characters they play to remain flawed but incredibly likable.
Fassbender is to Jobs as Reeves was to Superman. Put on the turtleneck and white tennis shoes and away he goes. 
Meanwhile, Kate Winslet’s sweeps the rest of the audience in under her protective umbrella to watch the rest of the performance. She is caretaker and necessary foil to Jobs’s hero.
Sorkin weaves fictional story plots into true history with provocative threads of conversation. He builds an intricate spiderweb of verbal sparring between those closest to Steve Jobs, whose pride and potential trap him in the center of the web. The illusive enemy and savior become one as iNnovation thrusts the world forward simultaneously cutting friendly and familial ties. His own daughter is among the collateral casualties. 
Jobs conducts the creation and release of the future of personal computing while his orchestra of brilliant tech and financial wizards play in the pit. They all must play the roles they are given, but without the sacrifice and leadership of the front man, all would be lost. Jobs sees this. It takes a strong, driven leader with unparalleled focus to make history like he did. The question posed, as always, is: is it worth it at the expense of relationships. Must genius doom itself to solitude?
As films go, this one haunts. The Tron-esque pulsing score matches the blood pressure of the film’s namesake. 
Danny Boyle, the director, uses people as props and lighting as sets, playing on the algorithms and symmetry of people on the move, of friendly connections severed, of puzzle pieces placed over decades as industry stretches forward to match the dreams of innovators.
A few flashbacks literally flash in between scenes of dialogue as the three art pieces, poised and playing in real-time hand-cam style stand adjacent in order to be appreciated as a singular masterpiece in three parts.
There are essentially three camps of audience members: the Front Section that watched faithfully week-to-week, the Tail Section that petered off somewhere around mid-season two, and the Darmahites who binge watched on Netflix or dvd deeming it a “cool show” some years later, making LOST a true cult classic.
Despite the stats, the inevitable questions were posed by all three groups:
The answers are rarely given and are usually simpler than we care to believe. The show was genius. It played on just the right emotions. It drew us in from moment one with great characters and writing. We believed that there was hope, so we kept watching. Hope is a seed planted which sprouts action and blossoms in destiny.
Two broken people find themselves together behind the wheel as driving lessons parallel life on the road to healing. The process takes time. Each lesson trains the two to take risks but to watch carefully as they build an unlikely friendship. He forces her to continue on while her bravery in that forward movement shows him how to live. It is mutual though not at first. Brilliant, very real writing. Art and life can be a sad story, but perhaps this one will help someone who is going through similar traumas see through to cross the bridge of grief.
Patricia Clarkson is an incredible actress, one who can tell a story by showing not telling. Characters usually lie first. How are you? I’m fine. The truth is in the eyes. Her character is trying to piece her life back together while constantly starting over. Well meaning people ask with that tone if she’s going to be all right. The fact that they know to ask when she hasn’t told them anything is a new punishment. Each day a new ordeal. Each day forced to face another side of herself.
Kingsley’s character, the gentleman protector, still runs from his past but lives out the prison-like punishment of loneliness and sorrow. He fears re-entering a world that daily rejects him.
Rated R for language and sex, this film shows honestly the miserable struggle of ending a 30 year marriage. It also does not glaze over the hideous truths about racial discrimination still going on in America. This film refuses to accuse or blame. Instead, it show how our main characters have the potential within themselves to commit the same crimes of unfaithfulness and of prejudice committed against them. The potential is within all of us. We are all also capable of forgiveness and redemption. So, doing the hard work of choosing what is good and right despite temptation sets heroes apart from the villains in the end.
I couldn’t believe the depth and youthful innocence that a young Robert Duvall gave his almost voiceless role of Boo Radley. Brilliant. And, I fell in love with Gregory Peck, who called Atticus his greatest role of all.
The opening sequence seems to show quintessential childhood – collections in a box, removed and replaced. Scenes from Amelie (2001) and The Fall (2006) echo as token tribute to this film’s classic opening. 
A child narrator can speak unfettered by adult inclinations toward between-the-lines political double-talk or gaged intentions. Scout tells it like it is. Innocence is allowed a voice that reminds the world to see people as only a child can and to care for all others unconditionally.
Despite kid show channels’ certain and obvious attempts at making grown-ups, especially parents, look ridiculous, this story gives the child’s perspective but makes the father the hero. This badge he wears with honesty, care, some sense of failure, and deep love.
In a parallel portrayal, the real mad dogs of the town come to commit acts of citizen justice before the courts have a chance to free a black man accused of raping a white woman. Atticus stands alone in moral courage against the growling crowd.
Even as his Oscar fame faded to a distant echo, Peck remained a father figure to the little actress who played Scout. They always called each other by their character names, and kept in touch. Rare indeed.
Even more rare were the events shaping American history at that time. Martin Luther King Jr. wore the heavy burden of speaking to the world on the same matters of civil importance as found in Lee’s book. King spoke of Atticus. King’s message was the same as that of Lee’s novel: living breathing human beings should all be given the same right to live and breathe. Timeless truth.
Splatter: on FILM 
