Filmmaker Morissa Maltz etched out her spiritual successor to previous film The Unknown Country over a six-year period, building out a movie for her young subject Jazzy, who plays a version of herself. Born of unused footage from that movie, this installment makes superstars of its little preteens. Going into Jazzy, I had minimal expectations, as I had not seen Maltz’s previous feature, nor do producers Jay and Mark Duplass have a great track record against my personal tastes. Despite my reservations, this freeform tapestry exploring the wonderment of being a child and the power of friendship quickly won me over. Maltz makes a unique decision to always have the adults slightly out of frame or absent completely, honing in on the children at the center. As a result, the childhood problems and dreamlike exploration of what life throws your way becomes the central focus. Beautiful and sincere, Jazzy uses improvisation and ingenuity as a window into a different brand of coming-of-age story, anchored by the Native American culture and a youthful naiveté.
Jazzy spans across one girl’s childhood, ages six through twelve, with the majority focusing on her twelve-year-old self. For as long as they can remember, Jazzy (Jasmine Shangreaux) and Syriah (Syriah Fool Head Means) have been best friends. They giggle about other girls, and “unfriending” through handwritten notes. They vow to stay friends forever. Then one day, Syriah starts ignoring Jazzy. She won’t sit with her on the bus anymore. She refuses to text Jazzy back, or to acknowledge her in any way. Their mothers have gotten in a bad fight; as a result, Syriah has been specifically instructed that she can no longer speak to Jazzy. It’s all very middle school, and Jazzy can really feel Syriah’s absence. Not only are they forbidden to speak, but Syriah and her entire family are going to be moving away.
Watching kids being kids should bring any viewer back to that formative time in their own lives, a simpler one certainly, but still nostalgically sparked by memories. So many activities the children were participating in here really brought me back and made me smile. Chanting about who is K-I-S-S-I-N-G, or doing the upside down dirty words on a calculator were rights of passage, so it warms my heart to see them continue. Landon’s crush on Jazzy and the way he talks to his other friends, boasting about having had “one million girlfriends,” only furthers the inherent understanding Jazzy has towards its younger performers and their innocence.
The near-documentary feel recalls The Florida Project, another excellent slice-of-life portrayal and awards contender. A natural chemistry amongst the ensemble speaks to the looseness of the collaborative process, organically developing realistic moments between them. Cinematographer Andrew Hajek utilizes many handheld shots to add to the naturalism, eventually turning to gorgeous wide shots near the climax to showcase the beauty of the reservation. Killers of the Flower Moon Oscar nominee Lily Gladstone (who also executive produces) eventually shows up in a smaller role as Auntie Tana, doing terrific work in her very brief screentime. This is a movie for the kids, though. Jazzy herself remains the clear standout, but Syriah has a quiet sweetness that makes her reserved performance note perfect.
Telling stories about different cultures remains a touchstone of independent filmmaking, and thankfully Jazzy continues this trend with aplomb off the backs of its fiercely talented younger cast. Maltz embraces these children with open arms, further evidenced by the adorable doodles that adorn the title and end credits hand-drawn by Jazzy and Syriah. Stories from Jazzy and Syriah are what helped to shape the narrative. Perhaps its mainstream appeal will end up minimal—whatever the case, Jazzy remains a snapshot of time in these children’s lives, accompanied by the echoing reverberations of a touching onscreen friendship.
Jazzy premiered at 2024’s Tribeca Film Festival.
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