Mark Reviews Movies: JACINTA

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Review by Mark Dujsik | October 7, 2021

In Jacinta, director Jessica Earnshaw follows a young woman and her family over the course of a year—and then more—as she struggles with addiction and they deal with the fallout. Earnshaw doesn't judge the eponymous woman, simply observing a slow-moving and, then, increasingly hastening tragedy as it unfolds.

Watching it, of course, is to be horrified by what we see and in coming to understand how Jacinta, who's 26 and a mother when the director first begins following her, arrived at this point in her life. She's in a prison in Maine at that point, finishing a criminal sentence for possession of heroin, and one of Jacinta's fellow inmates happens to be her mother Rosemary, who will be in prison for a longer term. The connection between these goes beyond family, and one of the most unsettling parts of this story is coming to understand how troubled, troubling, and downright toxic this relationship has been and, if things don't change for either of these women, will continue to be.

In prison, Earnshaw has surprising access to both women and interviews them about their backgrounds. Once Jacinta is released, though, the filmmaker switches to a (mostly) hands-off approach. The questions more or less stop, but the access continues. Jacinta begins her time in a so-called "sober house," where the monitoring is somewhat laidback but the rules are strict. Things seem to be going in the right direction for Jacinta, who thinks about getting a job and is aware that she needs to stay away from certain people and places if she's going to stay sober.

If there is a running theme here (both in terms of the film and, in general, the disease of addiction), it's in ideas of cycles of trauma, uncertainty, and pain. Jacinta wants to have a better relationship with her 10-year-old daughter Caylynn, who currently lives with the parents of her father (who is also incarcerated). Jacinta holds back from seeing the daughter at first, because her situation is so unclear at the moment, but then, they spend an entire day together.

The two click, just as Jacinta does with her own mother, and it's as if no time or absence has passed between them. Plans to meet again are discussed. Dreams of Jacinta making enough money to move closer are shared. Everything seems fine or better, but then, Earnshaw cuts to a scenes a few hours later, as Jacinta is driving to the old spots where she would buy and use heroin. She tells the director to turn off the camera. She's going to get high.

A few ethical questions arise, not necessarily from this particular scene and Earnshaw's silence (although that's a big one), but from how the director seems to bend her own, apparent rules in this scene, its aftermath, and some moments later in the narrative. The main rule, as it seems, is that the filmmaker will stay out of Jacinta's choices and their consequences. Hence, Jacinta does go into that house, does get high, and returns to the car in a hazy state.

One does question, though, how Jacinta, who's sitting in the passenger seat on the ride, gets out of this situation and returns to the sober house. The only people in the car appear to be Jacinta, Earnshaw, and at least one cameraperson. Almost certainly, one member of the filmmaking team is driving. That's an active and, obviously, responsible decision on Earnshaw's part, but if that decision can be made in the moment and break that central rule, what prevented anyone from making a similar decision when Jacinta announced her intentions to go back to heroin? As for another question, if this is to be an exception, why do we see a clearly under-the-influence Jacinta driving much later?

There's some cognitive dissonance in terms of approach here that's sometimes more apparent and unsettling than others. They're important, of course, because we need to have these conversations about non-fiction filmmaking, especially when they come to subjects harming themselves or potentially harming others. Is the film irresponsible and hypocritical in some of these techniques? It is, although we can't tell the degree to which it is from what we actually see. Is this rule-bending necessary in order to tell this story? It also is, as Jacinta clearly comes to trust Earnshaw in a way that otherwise might not have been possible, and isn't, because that trust does come at a cost and could have come at a greater one.

If we overlook these moments, the film is ultimately worthwhile—as an intimate study of addiction, a disturbing uncovering of the hidden pain that can drive it, and a harrowing in-the-moment observation of how these emotional and psychological issues build and pass on to others. Rosemary's addiction and decisions created the environment in which Jacinta lived, and as Jacinta falls deeper and deeper into drug abuse, her relationship with Caylynn becomes almost non-existent. She believes she's protecting her daughter, but the girl doesn't and cannot possibly see it that way.

The extent of the heartbreak, the contemporary and possible devastation, and the tragic cycles of abuse and addiction is on full, exposed display here. Jacinta may raise some vital and necessary questions about how Earnshaw tells this story, but regardless, it is a story that is equally vital and necessary to tell, particularly with this level of intimacy and understanding.

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