2023 Film Review: Till (12A)

 Now I want America to bear witness.

Gist: In August of 1955 a 14-year-old African American lad named Emmett Till left his home in Chicago to visit relatives in Mississippi. It was the final time his mother Mamie Till-Mobley would see him alive. While in the Delta, young Emmett died at the hands of a lynch mob, having been accused by a white woman of inappropriate advances. Till is the story of Mamie's efforts to achieve justice in the aftermath of her son's vicious torture and murder, a struggle that would act as a major catalyst for the US Civil Rights movement.

Juice: This film is a compelling watch and a difficult one, as, realistically, it should be. It only alludes to the central act of violence, but lingers on the consequences - both the emotional devastation wrought by Emmett's death and the appalling image of the boy's body that his mother shared with the world's news outlets. It's a tough and unflinching drama that doesn't seek a way to soften the black American experience in that era. At its heart (and wrenching those of the audience) is a performance by Danielle Deadwyler that's nothing short of extraordinary. She portrays a mother's love and grief, for sure, but also a fierce, controlled rage and steely courage as the story progresses, the camera fixing on her and refusing to cut away in protracted moments of intensity. 

Nor is hers the only noteworthy talent on show. Nigerian-born director Chinonye Chukwu makes some striking decisions, not least to have the film shot in vivid colour, giving it the warmth of a Normal Rockwell painting at odds with the ordeal endured by the protagonist and her extended family. She also keeps the story's racist tormentors shoved to the periphery, focusing instead on both the grief and the endurance of its black characters, and aided all the while by the elegiac depth of Abel Korzenioski's score. The support performances are strong too, not least that of Jalyn Hall, who with limited screen time invests the precocious Emmett with a naive likability that only rubs salt into the story's emotional wounds.

Judgement: 9/10. Co-written by Keith Beauchamp, director of a 2005 documentary on Emmett's murder, Till is a terrifically made film underpinned by a sense of authority and carried home by Deadwyler's remarkable performance. That the Academy failed to nominate its lead for a Best Actress Oscar this week suggests that many of its members simply haven't seen the film, resulting in one egregious oversight. Till is one of those movies that once seen may prove too painful for a rewatch. But its ongoing relevance, its accomplished direction, and that frankly astonishing central turn deserve your time. They'll certainly have your attention.

Film Review - Queen and Slim (15)

Thank you for this journey, no matter how it ends.

Each filmic calendar year is a combo of the 'Most Anticipated' (which may or may not live up to expectation) and those movies that jump you from out of nowhere. Queen and Slim, feature debut from TV and music video director Melina Matsoukas, ambushed me that way last weekend. I'd seen the poster, but it gave me little idea what to expect - aside perhaps from something pretty cool. As it turns out, 'cool' doesn't begin to express what this movie has to offer.

Film newcomer Jodie Turner-Smith and Get Out's Daniel Kaluuya are the Queen and Slim in question, two contrasting souls, who meet on a less than successful Tinder date. The night gets momentously worse, however, when he drives her home and they're pulled over by a cop. A tense encounter escalates wildly out of control and when disaster occurs, these virtual strangers end up on the run together, the objects of a nationwide police hunt. But as the odd couple head for the southern border, they realise something has been triggered that goes far beyond their own perilous situation.

I've used the phrase 'film for our time' already this year, but sue me if it doesn't apply to this one. If 2018's The Hate U Give was an intelligent teen-aimed exploration of racial tensions in modern America, Queen and Slim is the grown-up version in more ways than one.  Described early on as 'the black Bonnie and Clyde', these title characters are a far cry from all that those monikers imply. They're unassuming types, whose lives are irreversibly transformed by a single and calamitous moment in time. Victims of a racial climate that extends well outside themselves, their instantly high media profile feeds back into the conflict. To some they're criminals, to others heroes in a vital political struggle - even though to us they're just two ordinary people dealing with the fallout of a uniquely disastrous first date.

As the not-quite-lovers-on-the-run Turner-Smith and Kaluuya both excel. It's a smart move to have them not connect initially, so that the trauma and exhaustion from their altered circumstances is further complicated by how much they plain irritate each other. Ironically it's their enforced road trip that allows them time to discover each other properly. The melting of acrimony, rising tide of erotic feeling and embracing of the moment (in more ways than the purely sexual) are all played with a conviction that's total and touching. Kaluuya's depth and range is already cinematically tested (check him also in Black Panther or Widows), but ex-model Turner-Smith matches him, her inital poise and aloofness gradually ebbing away till vulnerability and a new passion for life are revealed.

There are further memorable performances here, most notably Bokeen Woodbine as Queen's flamboyant Uncle Earl. However the other main player is the look and mood of the film itself. While the screenplay by Lena Waithe is by turns romantic, comedic and provocative, the overall word that strikes is 'haunting'. Queen and Slim is a gorgeously shot road movie, all grainy beauty courtesy of cinematographer Tat Radcliffe. It begins with a diner scene reminiscent of an Edward Hopper painting and loses none of that stillness as the story progresses. Much of the journey is shot in pale dawn or twilight, evoking a weird limbo between the couple's erased former lives and their possible capture. There are moments of high tension, but this journey is characterised more as a poignant dream-state. Queen and Slim aren't alone in their struggle, but the border - their only hope - seems frustratingly out of reach...

The story's pacing is maybe a touch too deliberate in the latter stages, but this flaw is minor in light of Matsoukas' first-feature achievement. Both complex and confrontational, her film is an affecting drama, a political slap in the face and a work of art reminiscent of Barry Jenkins' Moonlight - in both its muted aesthetics and mesmerising orchestral score. (There's a kick-ass soundtrack too, accompanying the unplanned roadtrip.) In a winter movie-season more about big-name Oscar contenders, I found myself enamoured by this new cinematic pretender. Queen and Slim is a hugely promising debut, but it's also a fine film in its own right.

Gut Reaction: Lulled by the hypnotic beauty much of the time, although some moments of this film had me almost literally on my back.

Memorable Moment: Dance on. You're among friends.

Ed's Verdict: 8.5/10. Essentially relevant subject-matter - often powerfully and exquisitely made. Another film that deserved attention from Oscar and Co but didn't get it. Why not, people? What's that about?

Film Review - If Beale Street Could Talk (15)

Love brought you here. If you trusted love this far, trust it all the way.

Remember the Oscar envelope mix-up of 2017, when everyone thought La La Land had bagged Best Picture, only to discovered that the winner was in fact Moonlight? Well Barry Jenkins, creator of that award-laden film (it also achieved no.1 on my Top Ten List that year, thereby acquiring a coveted Ed) is back with If Beale Street Could Talk, a tale of similarly quiet power and emotional intensity. It's another love story, but this love faces a whole other set of obstacles.

Adapted with pith yet sensitivity from James Baldwin's novel of the same name, Beale Street tells of Tish Rivers, a young woman in early '70s Harlem looking to make a future with her childhood friend Alonzo 'Fonny' Hunt. The romance between the two is palpable, but life and America's cruel racism shatter their happiness as Fonny - a talented carpenter and wood sculptor - faces trial for a crime he could not possibly have committed. Her partner languishing in jail, Tish then discovers that she is carrying his child. Her family must rally around both to support her in the pregnancy and to help prove his innocence - in the face of a court system skewed against them.

Rage and beauty are the words that come to mind looking back on this film. The former stems from Baldwin's writing (his memoir Remember This House inspired scorching 2016 documentary I Am Not Your Negro) via Jenkins' unsparingly honest screenplay. The anger isn't apparent at first, so absorbed is the camera in Tish and Fonny's romance, but it comes in flashes and then you feel it seeping from the characters' souls right into the celluloid. Not ranting anger either, but a softly expressed understanding of the ugliness that is dyed into the fabric of American society. 

As for beauty - the whole film is shot through with it, starting with the warm reds and golds of the colour palette that bathe both the central relationship and scenes with Tish's family. (Moonlight was correspondingly tinged with blue.) The cinematography is smooth, James Laxton's camera gliding slowly between characters during the film's many vignettes, or lingering point-of-view on their faces during deep emotional encounters. Meanwhile Nicholas Brittell jazz-classical score compliments all the story's shades of love and fear in gorgeous and unexpected ways. In short, the Oscar-winning team is back and helping put Jenkins' unique stamp on every scene.

It's all memorably acted too. Kiki Layne and Stephan James - both fresh faces to me - portray love and friendship with a conviction rarely attained on screen. He's charming and sensitive, she's innocent but with burgeoning strength and determination as reality bites. Together they're deeply affecting, whether physically expressing their love to Brittell's rich score or struggling to communicate through prison glass - and the camera loves them both whatever they're going through. 

The supporting cast have multiple moments to shine too. Colman Domingo is warm and hilarious as Tish's dad, Teyonah Parris feisty and protective as her sister, while Widows' Brian Tyree Henry reveals unexpected layers as Fonny's ne'er-do-well friend Daniel. But it's Regina King as the strong and compassionate Rivers family matriarch who walks away with the top supporting honour (as she may well do on Oscar night). A sequence where she goes on a very specific errand of mercy lifts her performance to greatness.

If you found Moonlight slow and ponderous, then it's unlikely Beale Street will win you over. While there are punchy moments of drama, this is an introspective and often dreamlike experience occasionally tipping into nightmare. It's a deeply felt and timely piece of work that confronts the pervasive and corrosive nature of racism, while celebrating bonds of love that the hatred only serves to strengthen. Barry Jenkins' film is an early valentine - with heart, guts and a visual poetry that's become his signature style.

Gut Reaction: Some out-loud laughter; less bodily contortion as during Beautiful Boy, but a lot of deep-down feels - both the agony and the warmth. 

Memorable Moment: Sharing baby-joy with the 'in-laws'. 

Ed's Verdict: 9/10. If Moonlight announced Jenkins' arrival to many, then this one confirms his standing as one of the great modern cinema auteurs. Now where's his Best Picture nomination?

Film Review - The Hate U Give (12A)

How many more of us do you have to kill before you get it?

The Hate U Give is adapted from Angie Thomas's award-winning debut novel of 2017. The book became a young adult literary sensation through its head-on tackling of some very adult, very contemporary themes. And any sense that the film is going to pander to a young audience is banished pretty much instantly it begins. Transcending all that 'teen movie' might imply, it proves darker, harder and more challenging in cultural terms than anything its 12A rating might lead you to expect.

Amandla Stanberg plays Starr Carter, brought up in Garden Heights, an economically struggling, predominantly black neighbourhood plagued by gang violence. Her parents have fought hard for her place in the private, largely white Williamson Prep School, although her attendance there results in a kind of double life. She mustn't appear too 'hood' (her word) at Williamson, or bring too much of the prep-school girl back to Garden Heights. But the balance between Starr's two worlds is threatened along with much else, when she is the sole witness to a devastating moment of police violence. The consequences of the incident will test everything her parents have taught her, forging the kind of adult she will become.

Reflecting US news stories that occur with painful regularity, The Hate U Give is as powerful and articulate a cry of rage in its way as Spike Lee's BlacKkKlansman. It has the intelligence to deal with its racially charged subject-matter in a nuanced way, yet ultimately asserts its beliefs with bold conviction. At its heart is a truly revelatory performance from the 20-year-old Stanberg. (Remember tragic little Rue in the first Hunger Games film?) She's charming as the lively, intelligent teenager, and then so much more when her world is shattered in a terrible instant. Grief, fury, compassion and defiance - she conveys them all with breathtaking power and sincerity. Her CV shows her to be no novice, but for me this is like the arrival of a very special talent.

She has back-up at all points, starting with a smart adapted screenplay that allows moments of humour to leaven the fierceness of the drama. George Tillman Jr's direction is focused, maximising the story's power without ever letting it slip into melodrama. In fact realness is this movie's watchword. Russell Hornsby and Girls Trip's Regina Hall apply different but complimentary kinds of wisdom as Starr's parents, his gang tattoos clueing us to a turbulent past that still haunts him. One-time rapper Common brings alternative perspective as her police officer Uncle Carlos, while Anthony Mackie (such an all-round decent guy as Falcon in the Captain America movies) has real menace as a local gang boss. Look out too for Detroit's Algee Smith, effortlessly charismatic as Starr's childhood friend Khalil. 

They - and others - represent key facets of Starr's life and the conflicting directions in which she's being pulled, as she struggles to find her own course of action in the eye of a tumultuous storm.

Demanding that the Black Lives Matter movement be not just listened to but properly heard, with a title from Tupac Shakur's Thug Life acronym ('The Hate U Give Little Infants Fucks Everyone'), this film is as fearless as the novel on which it is based. Racism, crime, poverty, police brutality, privilege, community, identity, inter-racial relationships - they're all dealt with here without flinching. There's also a debate on the significance of macaroni cheese and an extended Harry Potter metaphor. Now that's a movie - teen or otherwise - for our times. Make it a priority.

Gut Reaction: Lots of hand-clasped-to-face action, several visibly startled moment and I spoke out involuntarily at one point (a rare occurrence). Never less than utterly gripped and pretty emotional into the bargain.

Where Are the Women?: Properly introducing Amandla Stanberg, with great supporting turns from Regina Hall and Issa Rae (as political activist April Ofrah). And that sharp screenplay comes courtesy of Audrey Wells.

Ed's Verdict: 8.5/10. The more I think about it, the more I'm impressed. Searing drama that dares to wrestle with some seriously pressing questions.