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Review: ‘If Beale Street Could Talk’ is a Beautiful Adaptation of James Baldwin’s Masterpiece

If there was one takeaway from 2016’s Moonlight, the indie underdog that upset at the Oscars, it’s that writer/director Barry Jenkins is a rising talent in the industry. Only his second feature film, Moonlight established him as a talented filmmaker with a unique voice and an eye for the cinematic. If Beale Street Could Talk, an adaptation of the James Baldwin novel of the same name, is a film that certainly continues that reputation.

From a presentation standpoint, the film is undeniably one of the most beautiful films of 2018. Every shot feels so thoughtfully constructed; its maturity and grace parallels the weighty themes of the source material in an incredibly respectful and nuanced way. Each frame is a painting, and the direction, in all aspects, is meticulously crafted with a precision only seen in films by true masters of cinema. The camera has such a natural, almost dream-like movement to it that absorbs you into the world of the film. Shot in the Univisium 2.00:1 aspect ratio, it also provides a unique look only shared by 3 other major films this year.  James Laxton, who was also the director of photography on Moonlight, is bound for another Oscar nomination and definitely a potential win. The score, arranged by Nicholas Britell, is gorgeous as well, providing a jazzy, low-key and subdued ambiance that somehow manages to overwhelm the audience in its beauty. The score, whenever present, permeates the film with its allure and grace.

The film’s best scene, however, is absent of any music, but of course is still a feast to the eyes: a long-take scene shared between Fonny (Stephan James) and Daniel (Brian Tyree Henry), with them simply chatting around a table in Fonny’s apartment, shot beautifully with close-ups through the haze of cigarette smoke. Henry, one of the breakout stars of 2018, appears in an extended cameo and delivers an incredibly powerful performance worthy of Best Supporting Actor. Even with the dream-like nature of the cinematography, the conversation and the subject matter of both the scene and the film seem painfully real and honest. It occurs chronologically before Fonny is falsely imprisoned for rape, and just 3 months after Daniel had been released from prison. Daniel is initially presented to the audience as a comedic, charming presence, but later on, in the same scene, he reveals to Fonny the brutal and terrifying world of the prison system and how it has shaped him. The camera holds on Daniel’s face and we witness his scared eyes underneath his hardened exterior. The performance is truly something special, and this entire scene is one of the most devastatingly real moments in film in 2018. And the movie is filled with powerful scenes such as this one.

Another powerful scene occurs when Tish (Kiki Layne) describes, in the form of narration, her experience working as a black woman in the perfume department of an expensive retail store in the early 1970s. She takes the job in an attempt to make enough money to bail Fonny, her fiance, out of jail, while also being pregnant with his child. Much of the dramatic and emotional tension of the film comes from whether or not Tish, along with her mother, Sharon (played expertly by Regina King), can prove Fonny’s innocence, making the financial struggles of Kiki and her family even direr. The crux of the scene in the store involves a “black cat” metaphor that she uses, which very intelligently sums up the themes of institutional racism, yet also highlights and celebrates the distance one will go for love, making the film so much more than just an ordinary romance.

If Beale Street Could Talk is a gorgeous film that shares the power of love and hope in the face of adversity. It speaks to the generations of black men torn from their families due to the institutional discrimination that continues to be perpetuated. It’s an important film that demands to be seen, a timeless story that will both resonate and devastate. There’s so much more to say about the film, but the main takeaway is this: it’s easily one of the best films of 2018, and Barry Jenkins has still got it.

Score: 5/5

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Review: The Affectionate Love Letter Found In Alfonso Cuarón’s ‘Roma’

Roma: Alfonso Cuarón’s newest feature and Netflix’s latest pickup in pursuit of Oscar glory. In years past, Netflix didn’t play nice with theaters, making them the self-made pariah of award shows, festivals, and the like. But with Roma, they seem to be keenly aware of what they have on their hands, choosing to change their strategy by giving it a wider theatrical release before it hits their platform. These actions are completely justified as this film is their best chance at an Oscar yet, and not just any Oscar, but Best Picture. Roma is a true piece of cinema, a sincere, affectionate love letter to the women that helped raise Cuarón in an elegant, realist package. 

Set in Mexico during the early 1970s, the film follows Cleo (Yalitza Aparicio), a caretaker who works for Sofia (Marina de Tavira), the mother of four children and wife to the always absent Antonio (Fernando Grediaga). Over the course of one year, Roma shows the events in their lives and how they overcome the challenges they are confronted with. 

Light spoilers in the following paragraph.

At the heart of Roma is its affection for mother figures. The film underscores the unique position of maternal roles in society: to be the source of support for all while also being self sufficient. Both Sofia and Cleo are women who must be depended upon by others, but cannot depend on anyone themselves. The former must care for her children but cannot receive support from her unfaithful husband. The later must provide service to Sofia and her children, while her boyfriend abandons her in her time of need. Cuarón has cited the film as his love letter to Libo, the real-life woman who took care of him when he was growing up, and it shows. Cuarón frames both Sofia and especially Cleo affectionately as he retroactively thanks those that helped him and appreciates what the maternal figures in his life did for him.

A visual point of praise for the film is its cinematography. Any trailer or still you’ve seen of the film will show just how elegant and well-crafted the black-and-white photography is. In general, black and white can be misapplied as solely a stylistic choice rather than a contributing element of the film. (Ask yourself, “Why did this modern film need to be black and white?” and you’ll often find yourself coming up short on answers.) But Cuarón makes it an important element of the film. The film is shot on digital, so it lacks the texture you get from film, but like an old photograph, the use of black and white makes appeals to the distant past, contributing to the memorial aspects of the film. 

Being that this is a Netflix release, most will see this on their computer or television. That’s not ideal (as all films are made better in a theater except for something like Unfriended), but I wouldn’t consider it a dealbreaker. Most won’t even have a theater near them playing it, but the big screen does let the wide angle cinematography really flex and that combined with the punchy black and white photography makes for striking imagery that is sorely missing from other run-of-the-mill films on your computer scene. Cuarón is a bonafide auteur who knows what he is doing (he is credited as both director and cinematographer, after all), so while it’s small in scope, the film truly feels cinematic.

Additionally, Cuarón has seemingly mastered his trademark panning shot at this point. The camera moves elegantly over the scene, making use of extended long takes and excellent staging to create an all-encompassing view of the setting. The long takes and slow pans evoke an Italian neorealist aesthetic that leaves nothing out in order to present a true-to-life depiction of the past. As such, the film can feel aimless at times. The longevity and all-inclusive nature can make you feel as if the film is holding for no reason, and to some extent that is true.

The film is like a window into the life of Cleo. We open on an uneventful note and leave on one too, but that seems to be the point. Cuarón wants you to observe everything in the time span you are allowed and to draw conclusions about the people you see. It is a film with no central plot driving it, just events as they occur, in order, in the window you are granted. The camera’s eye plays into the aforementioned realist effect. Nothing is everything, and while the nothingness can feel disengaging at times, it’s simply the style of the film. Cuarón is just turning on the camera, recording what’s in front of it, and letting you take it all in.

Score: 4/5 Stars

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Review: ‘Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse’ is the Best Superhero Film in Years

To quote Greg’s Letterboxd review: “The best superhero film in years…came from Sony.” Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse is the breath of fresh air that both the superhero genre and blockbuster animation truly needed. Fresh, funny, and inventive, the movie proves its central thesis by virtue of its own quality: that every great endeavor is just a leap of faith.

The film honors its comic-book roots with an animation style that blends 3D animation with 2D elements like cell-shading, motion lines, and onomatopoetic onscreen text. The animation is truly engaging and impressive, and it looks unlike anything I’ve seen in a mainstream animated feature film, and it is my great hope that future animated flicks take a hint from its inevitable success that audiences want to see diverse animation styles rather than the expected Pixar/Dreamworks style. I would not be surprised if it is nominated for Best Animated Feature this Oscars Season.

Even more engaging than the animation, however, is the story itself. The film follows Miles Morales (Shameik Moore) as he grapples with family, identity, and controlling the new powers he finds himself with after being bitten by a radioactive spider. He soon discovers he is not alone when Wilson Fisk a.k.a. “Kingpin” (Liev Schrieber) activates a device that brings together multiple alternate realities and brings five other “Spider-People” into Miles’ reality. Together with Spider-Man (Jake Johnson), Spider-Gwen (Hailee Steinfeld), Spider-Noir (Nicolas Cage), Spider-Ham (John Mulaney), and Peni Parker a.k.a. “SP//dr” (Kimiko Glenn), Miles must find a way to return the Spider-People to their own dimensions before their bodies decay and stop Kingpin’s device from destroying the city.

The movie is lighthearted and very funny and doesn’t take itself too seriously. Despite its admittedly off-the-beaten-path plot, it is easy to follow without being simplistic and will be appealing to comic book fans and casual viewers alike. It is a good solution to the plethora of Spider-Man movies in recent years (seven since 2002) and feels completely new despite acknowledging its many predecessors.

The film is, above all, a story of inclusivity and acceptance. Its central messages are of the importance of friends and family, and the belief that anyone can “wear the mask.” In a post-Nolan world of largely serious superhero movies, the way Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse balances admittedly dark themes and tragic moments with a reckless optimism and belief in what people who care about one another can accomplish together is heartening. It is exactly the kind of film we are desperately in need of right now.

Score: 4.75/5

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Review: ‘Green Book’ is a Road Trip Dramedy With Surface-Level Racial Overtones

Green Book was an interesting theatrical experience, as it was, for all intents and purposes, one of the most enjoyable theater experiences I’ve had this year. I tend to have a soft spot for cheesy feel-good movies, especially around the holiday season. However, that same over-sentimentality is why problems with its underlying narrative begin to arise.

For a film entitled Green Book, the actual ‘green books’ that the film derives its name from (the Jim Crow-era guidebooks for African American travelers) seem, oddly enough, like a bit of an afterthought. They’re only briefly mentioned a handful of times and don’t have a significant impact on the narrative itself. The film seems reluctant to fulfill the role of being a sharp commentary on the racial prejudice of the time and instead relies on director Peter Farrelly’s trademark comedic sensibilities.  Fortunately enough, the comedy isn’t nearly as low-brow as his previous work (Dumb and Dumber, There’s Something About Mary) and is handled with sprinkles of charm and class. Unfortunately, the movie’s dramatic weight is diminished, especially when its racial motifs are handled with such a lack of substance or nuance. Instead of being a biting, potentially refreshing social commentary, it’s overly sugary, a bit dumbed down, and Oscar-baity. It seems like a completely missed opportunity, especially considering films from this year like Sorry to Bother You, Blackkklansman, Blindspotting, and hell, even Marvel’s Black Panther, none of which held back in making bold, interesting narrative choices in regards to racially charged overtones.

Green Book, on the other hand, plays it completely safe, opting to be as crowd-pleasing and enjoyable as this story can be (and reaping as much awards attention as possible, go figure). While there’s nothing inherently wrong with a crowd-pleasing film of this caliber, I can’t help but wonder why the film that feels so formulaic in comparison to its contemporaries seems to be one of the strongest contenders for Best Picture at the 2019 Oscars.

That being said, this film definitely isn’t without merit and is indisputably entertaining in its own right. What it may lack as a drama, it more than makes up for as a comedy, and much of its comedy stems from the infectious chemistry between the two leads: Viggo Mortensen as Tony Vallelonga (dubbed Tony Lip), and Mahershala Ali as Dr. Don Shirley. Based on a true story and a “true friendship,” Lip is an Italian-American bouncer-turned-driver for Shirley, an African-American jazz pianist about to embark on a concert tour in the deep South in 1962. The two are almost complete opposites in terms of personality and mannerisms: Shirley is intellectual, well-spoken, and proper, while Lip is anything but. It seems like pure formula, almost akin to an inverse Driving Miss Daisy (another awards show darling back in 1989) but Mortensen and Ali’s performances drive the film and are undeniably the best aspects of it; both are unequivocally excellent in their respective roles and breathe life into the film at every moment, despite the conventional tropes, cliches, and inconsistencies that hold the narrative back from being something truly special and groundbreaking.

Lip undergoes a sort of arc in the film, which, though earnest and obviously well-intended, is presented as uneven at best. At the beginning of the film, he’s shown throwing away water glasses used by two African American maintenance workers that came into his house, but from that point on, Lip is never shown as being nearly as despicably racist, unless convenient to the plot to create tension between him and Shirley. Nevertheless, the duo is an absolute blast to watch on screen and makes the perpetual cheesiness substantially more tolerable. Ali brings a level of elegance and class, yet also of immense vulnerability, to his performance, making Dr. Don Shirley an incredibly likable figure. You might even find yourself choking up a little near the film’s climax and resolution, where the movie’s themes, though shallow and sanitary considering its subject matter, are tied up neatly and in a perfectly satisfactory manner. Green Book is an exemplary feel-good movie, and though it’s over-sentimentality causing it to shy away from any real racial commentary is a missed opportunity, it’s sure to be a hit at both the box office this holiday season, as well as the Oscars next year.

Score: 3.5/5