Jazzy Review: This Companion Piece To A Lily Gladstone Hidden Gem Is One Of The Year's Best Coming-Of-Age Movies [Tribeca]

When is documentary filmmaking not quite a documentary? When filmmaker Morrisa Maltz does what she does best and fills in a blank canvass with her uniquely lived-in, understated, and wholly authentic paintbrush. The most headline-making aspect of "Jazzy" will likely be the fact that it acts as a sort of spiritual sequel to Maltz's previous effort, the Lily Gladstone-starring "The Unknown Country" that released to great acclaim in 2022. The similarly low-key indie also happened to feature a minor supporting character nicknamed Jazzy, who now steps up to take the spotlight as the main protagonist this time around. Still, the most immediately approachable aspect of this follow-up film, which also includes a cameo appearance by Gladstone's character Tana but otherwise stands entirely on its own to the benefit of newcomers, has to do with the strength of its central coming-of-age story — one that, as revealed in the end credits, is based on real-life stories, memories, and experiences told by the two main child leads.

What little plot there is in this hazy, dreamlike tale derives from the friendship between Jasmine "Jazzy" Bearkiller Shangreux (played by the young actor of the same name, another layer of verisimilitude that extends to much of the cast) and her bestie Syriah (Syriah Fool Head Means). Despite the implications of its solo title, both Jazzy and Syriah prove equally as integral to the story, as do the incredibly talented child actors themselves. The almost improvisational, stream-of-consciousness banter between them carries audiences through the first of many unbroken montages in the early going, where one day flows into the next in a seemingly never-ending blur of birthday parties, daily trips on the boisterous school bus, and after-school hangouts in their small South Dakota community. Soon enough, days stretch into weeks and weeks into years as we end up following six instrumental years of their lives from the age of six to 12, the same amount of time that the movie was filmed over.

"Growing up sounds ugly," the pals conclude after one particularly reflective conversation where they face such existential issues the only way kids know how: bluntly and full of innocence. That also sums up much of the approach behind "Jazzy" itself, building to a crescendo that's equal parts graceful, quietly moving, and completely unforgettable.

Wouldn't life be so much simpler if kids never had to become adults? Much of the easygoing dynamic between Jazzy and Syriah amid the darker, grown-up problems swirling all around them will inevitably invite comparisons to Sean Baker's "The Florida Project" — and not just because of the stunning magic-hour photography and gorgeous silhouettes in a few key scenes, drawing overt visual parallels between their shared thematic concerns. But Maltz makes this entirely her own by setting the story with the perspective of Lakota youths who, in several poignant scenes, struggle to reconcile their Indigenous upbringing with the everyday journey of just ... growing up. More formally, the filmmaker further sets "Jazzy" apart with the conscious choice to avoid any clear shots of adults throughout much of the film's 86-minute runtime, leaving their collective presence as mere voices in the background while focusing solely on the kids' reactions. In fact, the frequent use of extreme closeups and soft, out-of-focus framing of Jazzy and Syriah's faces has the added effect of channeling grains of sand slipping down the hourglass, as if the camera itself can't even hold these kids in view for long as they age (somehow, both slowly and far too quickly at the same time) and encounter all of life's ups and downs.

As it turns out, not even the bliss of summertime fun can prevent those "downs" from arriving abruptly and without warning for the inseparable Jazzy and Syriah, sadly enough. One day on the ride to school, Syriah walks right past her usual seatmate Jazzy and sits alone, not even looking at or speaking to her concerned friend. It soon becomes clear that adult-minded problems have begun to intrude on their happy, uncomplicated dreams, throwing obstacles in their way that range from familial arguments to the simple inevitability of a lifelong friend moving to a new home. Childhood has a way of turning the emotional dial all the way up to 11, lending existential-level stakes to what we intuitively know are only minor bumps in the road. Yet that same adolescent mindset also provides a sort of resiliency that we can lose as we get older, which serves Jazzy and Syriah well as they're forced to figure out who they are when circumstances keep them apart.

Life doesn't stop just because a friendship must hit the pause button, however, and so "Jazzy" spends this act mostly following our title character as she navigates the challenges of making new friends, navigating the minefield of a boy harboring a crush on her, and coming to terms with the onset of her first period. The screenplay (credited to the writing team of Maltz, Lainey Bearkiller Shangreaux, Vanara Taing, and Andrew Hajek) refuses to take the easy way out at every turn, meaning that our young lead has no choice but to evolve and change — even as the very color palette of the film itself (Hajek pulls double duty as cinematographer) takes on cooler tones without Syriah in the picture, whose absence is absolutely felt on multiple levels.

Yet it's here, during this surprisingly hopeful stretch of film, that the narrative backbone formed by Jazzy and Syriah's friendship truly feels resonant — far more so compared to the vast majority of other conventional films with exponentially larger budgets. What Maltz and her creative team manage to pull off here is tantamount to a miracle of filmmaking, imbuing every shot and editing choice (handled by Laura Colwell and Vanara Taing, who sporadically intercut past memories with present events to especially moving results) with a level of nuance that's all too rare these days. When an unexpected development brings Jazzy out of her neighborhood and onto her family reservation, allowing "Jazzy" to comment on the Indigenous experience in modern America (which will hit hard for second-generation members of immigrant families), even the location change informs our characters in ways that are hardly ever captured on film so meaningfully.

Although it may be easy to mistake such introspection for aimlessness, these various sequences in the film's final stretch do more to elevate the linchpin relationship between Jazzy and Syriah than any amount of contrived, overwritten melodrama ever could. "Jazzy" can be called many things — a slice-of-life rumination on the things we take for granted, a coming-of-age marvel — but, at its core, it's the simplest and most childlike of statements that echo far beyond the movie's pitch-perfect ending. While catching up with Gladstone's Tana during a family reunion on their Indigenous land, Jazzy remarks plainly, "'Friends are most important." For those lucky enough to have formative experiences with their own version of either a Jazzy or a Syriah, the truth of those words speaks for itself.

/Film Rating: 9 out of 10