Brooklyn 45

Christmas, 1945. World War II has come to a close. For some, at least. In a nondescript Brooklyn brownstone, four traumatized friends gather to help out a troubled fifth to get through the holidays. The death of a loved one lingers in the air.

As the night goes on, they find themselves in an impromptu séance, and suddenly the ghosts of their past become far more literal than they could have expected.

This is one of those lovely chamber pieces that knows exactly what kind of film it is and what it wants to accomplish. There are very few extraneous flourishes here. Instead, the focus is on the impeccable cast, smart writing, and superb sense of time and place.

While the last third buckles under its grand ambitions and thematic complexity, Brooklyn 45 is a film that refuses to leave my mind. It’s been weeks since I saw it, and I can’t stop thinking about the implications and larger discussion it leaves behind. In utilizing genre conventions to grapple with the trauma of WW2, Brooklyn 45 accomplishes so much with very little in depicting how America never truly moved on from its part in the global theater.

Carried by an exquisite cast of theater and film veterans, Brooklyn 45 is one of those films you want to return to over and over again to experience the comfort of old-school, classy filmmaking. It’s the kind of programmer we once took for granted and now should celebrate every chance one appears.