The film dramatises a pivotal LIFE magazine interview by reporter Theodore H. White (here represented by Billy Crudup as an unnamed character), which took place in the week following John F. Kennedy’s assassination in November 1963. Mrs. Kennedy reserves strict editorial control over the cover story, but insists on fulfilling her duty as First Lady by putting on a brave face for the American people. Kennedy was the last President of the United States to be assassinated and coming in the advent of the television age, it’s one of the most documented events of the last century, from the Zapruder film to the countless conspiracy theories. Here, director Pablo Larraín and screenwriter Noah Oppenheimer are instead looking at Jackie’s extraordinary composure and her private anguish in the days that followed. The film never gets to be sentimental or scurrilous in its dramatisation and the non-linear structure boldly mixes imagined private moments with other documented events, most notably in a recreation of a 1962 TV documentary in which the First Lady gave cameras a guided tour of the White House. The rest of the film matches the 1:66:1 aspect ratio and on a cinema screen, the televisual framing almost cages and isolates her, except that she’s the main mover in the story any time that she is on screen. In company, she’s always mannered and graceful, but still somewhat isolated. Cinematographer Stéphane Fontaine moves his camera as though it has been set adrift with her, but it’s the shift in Portman’s manner depending on who she’s with that shows the most remarkable difference. In such a dignified and funereal portrait of a historical figure, there is sometimes a risk of calcifying a character rather than celebrating them, but the tremendous humanity of Portman’s performance keeps you absorbed even when the film’s coldness of touch could become alienating. The film moves around in time, but not in tone and the project’s origins as a HBO miniseries are apparent in the way. With Portman as a constant, only Sarsgaard really makes an impression out of the supporting cast, as the fiercely protective younger Kennedy, united in grief with Jackie, if not in opinion. The supporting characters mostly only have to listen, but it means that Portman is doing most of the work and that Hurt and Grant serve much the same function as Crudup’s interviewer. It’s intended as fragmented, reflecting Jackie’s state of mind, but on a big screen, it comes off as episodic. Jackie is frankly more of a psychological horror film than a gilded, reverent biopic, seizing a less explored and more intimate perspective on one of the most discussed and dramatised catastrophes in modern history. Grounded by Portman’s supernaturally strong performance, it gives the viewer little else to latch onto and I confess I found it alienating at times, but its thoughtfulness and authenticity are laudable. Jackie is in UK cinemas now.