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Posts Tagged ‘Daniel Kaluuya’

Regular readers would in theory be aware of my theories concerning the type of trailer that tends to show up in front of a movie: other than recipients of the ‘big push’ saturation technique, the trailers tend to be of a similar tenor to whatever film you’ve gone to see (for reasons which are hopefully obvious). Now, what happens if there are no other films of a similar tenor in the offing? They always seem to find something at least vaguely similar to advertise, but often there are fewer or even only one trailer. This happened the other day in front of Melina Matsoukas’ Queen & Slim – all we got was what looked very much like the trailer for a horror movie called Antebellum, not even due out for a couple of months.

This is possibly only to be expected, given we are on the verge of the changing of the cinematic seasons – it’s Oscar night on Sunday, after all, and all the worthy, serious, sophisticated movies are about to go away in favour of (mostly) mid-range genre movies, at least until the proper blockbusters get going in April and May. Certainly Queen & Slim seems to be the last of the current run of serious social dramas about racial tensions in the United States – at least, that’s how it looks in the advertising, although there is a bit more nuance in the actual movie.

Queen & Slim opens in Ohio, where a young man (Daniel Kaluuya) and a young woman (Jodie Turner-Smith), both African-American, are having a first date, having encountered each other on a popular kindling-themed relationship website. It is not quite a disaster, but neither is it a brilliant success: he is generous, laid-back, perhaps not particularly bright; she is prickly, a career woman, demanding. He drives her home; they are pulled over by a white cop for a very minor traffic offence. For some reason the cop seems to have issues with them and is unreasonably harsh. She reaches for her phone, and the cop reaches for his gun.

A few seconds later, she has been shot and wounded, but the cop has been shot dead. Tellingly, neither of the couple entertains for a moment the idea of sticking around to explain they were only acting in self defence – they know, or at least firmly believe, the system is firmly stacked against them. The course of action they find themselves forced into is to head south (they talk of escaping to Cuba), trying to evade the authorities, all the while unaware of the wider events which their actions have set in motion…

Queen & Slim starts off feeling like a particular grim drama, or perhaps a thriller, with the kind of sense of being trapped in an unfolding nightmare that you also find in some horror movies. If this is a horror story, however, it is one drawn from life, for the story’s origins in any number of sickening real-life incidents should be self-evident. The subtext of the film initially seems to be very clear: such is the inherent bias in the system that young people are effectively criminalised simply because of their ethnicity, regardless of their actions. There is perhaps some truth here, and it is certainly a potentially powerful thesis for a film to express, but without a great deal of scope for subtlety.

There is a good deal of Queen & Slim which appears to favour power over subtlety: this is on some level a morality play about contemporary America, and as a result there is a degree of broad-strokes storytelling going on. However, the film does a good job of finding nuance and sophistication as well. On a basic level, this comes from the fact that there are shades of grey in the movie – not every white character is a bigot, not every black character is a victim or saint. The fact that we don’t learn the actual names of the two lead characters until the very end of the film is not dwelt upon, only gradually dawning on the viewer (quite why the film is called Queen & Slim is a bit obscure, as they aren’t referred to by these nicknames on screen either) – as a result, the sense that they are symbols, representing the African American experience in general, is considerably muted.

The adoption of the protagonists as symbols of injustice is another of the themes of the movie, but again this is made considerably more complex by the way it is handled. They don’t want to be symbols, nor do they endorse the violent uprising against a racist establishment which some of their supporters suggest. Neither of them is strictly speaking apolitical – the movie suggests this isn’t an option for African Americans at the moment – but nor are they committed activists, either. One of the film’s more provocative choices is to juxtapose scenes from a protest in support of the couple (this goes shockingly wrong) with what they’re actually up to at the same time: it’s safe to say that politics is not on their minds, as they are pre-occupied with having sex for the first time.

The developing romance between the two leads is one of the most successful elements of the film, and again it is underpinned by irony: it seems unlikely that they would even have seen each other again, had their first date not gone horribly, horribly wrong. You can see them slowly getting past each others’ defences, discovering chemistry: the journey from near-total strangers to a couple with a deep bond is up there on the screen, as it needs to be for the ending of the film to have the impact that it does. In a wider sense, the film seems to be suggesting that in a broken, compromised world, you have to take whatever joy you can find, and the heart of the story is about the protagonists falling in love at least as much as it is about racism and institutionalised injustice. The rush and excitement of falling in love is well-handled here, providing a strong counterpoint of colour and life to the bleakness of much of the story.

There’s a sense in which this is a road movie, and some of the diversions along the way as the leads travel down from Ohio to Florida stretch credibility just a little bit; in the same way, the film is perhaps a little overlong at over two and a quarter hours in length. For the most part, however, this is an excellent mix of drama, romance, and social commentary, with two very strong performances from the leads and good support from the rest of the cast. The foundation, however, is an intelligent script which has been very well directed. Whether movies have the power to actually change the world is debatable: but this is a dignified and passionate cry of rage.

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You know, I try to be a positive, upbeat, and generally forgiving person (admittedly more out of a need to counteract my natural inclination to be extremely bitter, cynical, and vengeful than for any deeply felt moral or philosophical reasons). Despite this, some things retain the power to move me to a dark and terrible fury, and one of these is having films spoiled for me, especially by the websites of newspapers that I trust. And just such a thing happened the other day: in the wake of the release of the trailer for the latest iteration of a well-loved (and perhaps very slightly overrated) franchise that’s been around for nearly 40 years, I clicked onto an article promising to discuss a very specific sub-genre of horror, only to find myself being informed of, well, fairly crucial plot details of Jordan Peele’s Get Out, literally about an hour before I watched the movie.

Get Out isn’t a movie which is wholly dependent on its twist to function, but there is a definite element of mystery built into the story, and knowing the twist going in almost certainly affected my response to the movie – what might have seemed genuinely startling and unexpected, encountered without warning in the unsettling darkness of a movie theatre, inevitably had less impact communicated via text on a laptop. Maybe this is why I am somewhat less impressed with Get Out than many others; I don’t know. I just mention this in the interests of full disclosure an’ all that.

Daniel Kaluuya plays Chris, a young photographer happily entangled with his girlfriend Rose (Allison Williams), and about to embark on a trip to meet her parents for the first time. Despite everything, he is a little nervous: will they really be okay with their daughter having a relationship with an African-American man?

Nevertheless, off they go, eventually receiving a warm welcome from her father and mother (Bradley Whitford and Catherine Keener). Gradually, though, there is an accretion of tiny details that put Chris just a little bit on edge – Rose’s parents have black servants, who behave extremely strangely, and the attitude of the rest of their friends, when they descend for a party, is also slightly strange. The only African-American in the community acts very oddly indeed, attacking Chris and whispering ‘Get out!’ when startled by the flash on his phone camera, and Chris’ transport cop friend Rod (Lil Rel Howery) is startled when he sees the picture – this is a man who disappeared months earlier…

Now, there’s a couple of things we need to keep in mind about Get Out, the first one being that – as mentioned – I had the revelation as to what’s really going in this movie spoiled for me in advance, and it is also – as you may have surmised – fundamentally about the African-American experience in the contemporary United States, something I am supremely under-equipped to presume to discuss in any meaningful way.

However, this movie is also presenting itself as a horror movie, and that at least is something I do feel qualified to comment on. Its closest antecedent, I would suggest, is The Stepford Wives, Ira Levin’s famous tale of… well, I’ve gone to great extremes in the past to avoid spoiling The Stepford Wives for anyone (see, this stuff matters to me), and I’m not going to change that now. Get Out is slightly more of a genre movie, slightly happier to wheel on the third-act violence and gore, but there’s still a distinct family resemblance, in that they are both horror films, to some extent paranoid fantasies, seeking to engage in social commentary and satire.

If we’re going to discuss the horror movie as a vehicle for social comment, then of course we should start with George A Romero and consider Dawn of the Dead: the story of a group of people struggling to survive a zombie apocalypse and the accompanying collapse of society, but also on some level a commentary on consumerism in the modern world. Slightly more pertinently, Night of the Living Dead, also the story of a group of people trying to survive a zombie apocalypse, but also (thanks to the casting of Duane Jones) obliquely about the civil rights struggle occurring in America when it was made.

Get Out, on the other hand, is the story of a group of privileged white people seeking to do horrific things to African-Americans, which also functions as, um, a story about a group of privileged white people seeking to do horrific things to African-Americans. There’s not really enough space here for the film to function on a metaphorical level in the same way as the films that clearly inspired it – what happens in the film is grisly and terrifying, to be sure, and obviously represents an attempt to control and destroy black identity, but even if it’s meant be a symbol of something in the real world, it’s not at all clear what that is.

I mean, some people have suggested the film is a satire on the corrosive and ultimately unhelpful effects of white liberalism – and some of the film’s wittiest moments concern Chris’s deadpan reactions to meeting a bunch of old white people who all assure him how much they love Obama and Tiger Woods – but this doesn’t seem to me to connect to the central notion of the film. I suppose you could argue the film is on some level about cultural appropriation, but again the horror aspect isn’t really a metaphor for this, unless you do some serious stretching. I’m not saying the film never touches on liberalism, or cultural appropriation, or indeed the realities of being a young black man in the USA today, it’s just that there are all these aspects of the film, and then there’s its central idea, which seems to be its own thing, not particularly related to any of them. (Film-making being what it is, Get Out was made before the Great Disaster of last November, and as a result is unable to comment on the implications of the Insane Clown President’s reign. Fertile ground for a future movie, perhaps.)

Not that it isn’t an effective piece of film-making, with a bunch of strong performances from virtually everyone in the cast, and Peele handles the shift from social comedy with darker undertones to full-on horror rather adroitly. However, it deploys a lot of very familiar horror tropes just a bit too knowingly, and some of the time you’re left wondering if this is genuinely meant to be a horror movie, or just some kind of witty pastiche of the genre. In the end I would say this is a well-made and very well-played film, clearly highly intelligent, but one which works much better in its earlier stages than in its final act, throughout which it sort of goes onto autopilot, and also one which never quite reaches the standard of the best of the films which inspired it. Still more fun than Moonlight, though, of course.

 

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