For 137 minutes one does not watch, but rather basks in the somber beauty of writer and director Kenneth Lonergan’s Manchester by the Sea, a superb film that revolves around Lee Chandler (Casey Affleck), a man haunted by a past he is forced to confront when his brother Joe (Kyle Chandler) dies. Lee, who fled to Boston when his life fell apart, must return to his hometown and take charge of Joe’s free-spirited son, Patrick (Lucas Hedges).

The term “somber” expresses Manchester’s general mood both in terms of the film’s narrative and the muted blues and greys that populate many of its shots. This is not an easy tale to stomach, with the interplay between a hardened Lee and youthfully naïve Patrick creating a particularly striking contrast. The film explores a range of emotions, from despair to affection to wistfulness, and never fails to remind the viewer that the human spirit possesses a curious combination of resilience and fragility. When the audience begins to feel an emotional attachment to Lee, the film pushes back and forces us to reconsider the extent to which we understand the intricacies of his personality. This can, in fact, be seen visually in the form of Jody Lee Lipes’ arresting cinematography, which juxtaposes characters with dark nights, vast oceans, and seemingly cavernous living rooms.

Casey Affleck’s performance is one of the film’s most impactful elements, for better or worse given the charges surrounding him. He is sometimes explosive, sometimes contained, and on occasion a heart-wrenching combination of the two. There are moments when Lee seems like the subject of a well-structured documentary and not a fictional character, a testament to Affleck’s acting. Also impressive is newcomer Lucas Hedges, whose slightly more upbeat but nonetheless touching turn as a sixteen-year-old grappling with the fallout surrounding his father’s death provides a grounded alternative to the stereotypically zany protagonists of most coming-of-age films.

Manchester’s pacing is most neutrally described as contemplative, which for many could be perceived as a fault. The film is not as brisk as most modern popcorn fare, which in turn forces the viewer to ruminate on the movements, facial expressions, and pieces of dialogue that populate each scene. In fact, the film’s running time passes by with surprising swiftness because one is heavily engaged in digesting a plethora of poignant sights and sounds. It reflects well on Lonergan’s abilities as a writer and director that this is so; a considerable share of the film’s emotional force comes from within the viewer’s own mind, which can freely draw comparisons between the characters’ experiences and his or her own. Each of us has experienced loss, love, anger, regret, or some combination of the four. These, along with other character-forming conditions, are dealt with by this nuanced exploration of a man’s life and the people who surround him. Manchester by the Sea is a powerful and well-executed film with raw human emotion at its core; this is unembellished cinema at its finest.