The experience of waiting and hoping for something better is a relatable one in James Gray’s new period drama. For as much critical praise as has been heaped on the film for its tremendous performances and richly detailed aesthetic, the biggest ballyhoo has been made about The Immigrant’s closing shot. Once I knew we were comfortably in the home stretch, I was consciously keeping tabs on what might make for such a discussion-worthy closing image, but knew it had finally revealed itself the moment it started to form. Sure enough, it’s amazing, and worth the price of admission alone.

More than that, the final shot, and scene that precede it, are absolutely vital to tying together Gray’s moving, yet often distant portrait of a young Polish immigrant, Eva, trying to survive 1921 New York. With her sick sister held in quarantine on Ellis Island, Eva comes into the care of a kindly but suspicious man who’s quickly taken with her. Seeing as Eva is played by Marion Cotillard, it’s an attraction that’s easy to buy into, just as it’s easy to assume that the good Samaritan, Bruno (Joaquin Phoenix), is completely untrustworthy. Add in Jeremy Renner as a charming magician who also takes a liking to Eva, and you’ve got the basis for passionate, dangerous love triangle.

Gray’s best choice with The Immigrant was to not treat his heroine with kid gloves. Eva is smart, bordering on ruthless, constantly shown working the hold she has on Bruno to what little advantage she can afford. The Immigrant captures all the magic, music, money and sex that are at the heart of the American Dream, and the demoralizing conditions have-nots must struggle through to find their piece of it. Corruption and hypocrisy having deeply embedded themselves in the establishment, especially with regards to treatment of women, the film’s use of burlesque, vaudeville, and stage magic conveys both the fantasy of the life these characters are fighting for, and the fantasies they live with in order to cope with their actions. 

There are recurring motifs of portraits, mirrors, and birds throughout the film, and Eva’s constant desperation provides a drive, but The Immigrant often overcooks its symbolism, and actively underplays the dramatics. It’s immaculately staged and performed, and there’s a humor to how Eva’s survivor instincts cuts off the romantic and boyish fantasies both the men in her life have for her. This also makes the film cool to the touch, and at times, draining. An unexpected third act turn looks to be the moment The Immigrant falls apart, but instead flips the script on our expectations. The final half-hour pulls together the story’s sometimes-unwieldy themes of struggle and redemption into a powerful finale that justify whatever earlier reservations you might have about The Immigrant. And that last shot…