In A Most Violent Year, Hispanic immigrant Abel Morales (Oscar Isaac) and his tough as nails wife Anna (Jessica Chastain) defend their rising oil heating business from greedy competitors and the prying district attorney’s office. All Abel needs to do is secure a holding plant on New York’s East River, which will make it easier for him to conduct trade. His rivals attempt to ‘hijack’ his success, and like Sopranos wiseguys dominating their turf, they want to milk him dry until there isn’t anything left. Though he may have his stone-faced looks, Abel is no Michael Corleone, and he isn’t willing to compromise his integrity to preserve his business, even if that means refusing to arm his truck drivers against hired guns. Abel’s reluctance to take the law into his own hands is remarkable given the bleak and hard realities of New York City in 1981.

With a total of 1826 homicides, 1981 was one of the city’s most crime-ridden years. Compare that to the 328 cases reported in 2014. The rest of the 80s weren’t so good either. While John Gotti plotted to become the city’s most powerful Mafia don, crack and heroin flowed in and out of the streets, plaguing the city’s poor communities. Gangs of youths like those depicted in The Warriors and Michael Jackson’s Bad, committed crime after crime, making Central Park and the New York subway arenas for what often turned into mortal combat.

Despite all the implied chaos around them, Abel and his wife have managed to stay on the right side of the law except for a few tax issues (skeletons in the closet we all can relate to), which draw the eyes of the assistant district attorney (and political hopeful) Lawrence (David Oyelowo). With the pressure mounting on all sides, it seems as if it’ll only be a matter of time before Abel becomes Cain and unleashes a Godfather-style massacre on his enemies. His urge to come to the dark side is symbolised by the advice of Anna (herself the daughter of Brooklyn mafiosi) who constantly reminds him that she can get her familial connections involved.

Isaac brings a dark and austere grandeur to his character and as a result, Abel has messianic and alienating qualities. Each time Abel is faced with an emotional decision, the minimalist score peals and crescendos like Philip Glass’s Prophecies. ‘I have always chosen the path that is most right’, Abel moralises, like a streetwise Marcus Aurelius. Even though he loves to distinguish himself from the Cains that surround him, Abel is not sure why he wants what he wants. When his colleague asks him to be frank about his ambitions, Abel doesn’t know how to respond. Like the modern man, caught in the fog of society’s materialism and moral ambiguities, Abel is an idealist who’s somewhat blinded by his unlimited visions of commercial expansion. His devotion to endless growth comes at a great price for his friends and family. In that way, Abel is beyond good and evil. While the ‘good’ guys and the bad guys will do anything to get their cut, Abel falters, suffers, and persists towards the ever hazy and ever amoral American Dream.

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