Forgive me for
the weasel words at the start of this. I cannot remember for the life of me the
many people who state that when writing about cultural commentary on media that
it shouldn’t be personal. Apologises on this opening which is something that attribute
to me and what I’ve seen.
On one of the
photography forums that I frequent, a woman made a post asking about what could
be done to celebrate and encourage more female photographers on the site.
Photography like so many creative endeavours can be considered top-heavy when
it comes to gender, although of course there are many variables that should be
considered. Almost straight away the inquisition came. Prods and pokes at a
relatively harmless question. Nothing said held out and out aggression, but
many replies held a clear defensiveness. The response that struck me more than
anything was by one gentleman who stated:
“Call me biased as a middle-aged white male, who has not transgendered, and has all his limbs and hopefully faculties, but I really don’t even think about these things until people decide that the world is” unfair” in their eyes. Can we maybe just look at the quality of images.......?”
Isn’t this the
sticking point? The crux of the argument? The problem? That the person of such
a description can brush off the idea of celebrating a different group’s foray
into creativity because they do not have to think about it? That because they
are usually considered the target market, they can dictate the themes and hold
the gates on what is worthy? Suffice to say, I ducked out of my forum lurking
at that point. You can always see where such debates go. It was much better for
me to go to the movies, another medium which suffers from similar trappings.
Just go to any forum debating Captain Marvel…
Often the
critique thrown at certain black films often sounds similar to the “I don’t see
colour" argument. Not everyone will get something out of Films such as Get
Out (2017) and Moonlight (2017), but the dismissive nature which sometimes
comes from people when they observe such films, consciously or not, highlight
their dismissiveness of racial identity. There have been films like Black
Panther (2018) before and watching the many MCU entries help establish that
point. But there’s rarely any colour represented films like Black Panther and
this is where the discourse becomes fractured. In the same way, black audiences
helped the likes of a problematic racial sitcom such as Love Thy Neighbour become
popular, the latest glut of black-led movies have staunch support for the
simple reason that in not seeing the racial aspect in such features is to erase
swathes of people's viewpoints alongside it too. In the same way, a female
photographer may have a different stance on how to create images thematically
but can be ignored under a certain presence of “quality”. A white audience
member can view movie concerns from particular viewpoints, safe in the
knowledge that their next film is merely around the corner. For minority
viewers, they have not been able to. Due to this, as a black audience member, I may now feel that I can be quick to dismiss viewpoints if I consider the
commentator would be softer on a “white” movie for having the same faults.
Berry Jenkins’
tales of unrequited love can and have been criticised by people and of course
we can all do this, however, I would be interested in how many people who
dismiss Moonlight would be doing so in contrast to its particular blend of
unapologetically black queer cinema. As if there’s that many. The same would go
for Medicine for Melancholy (2008) a black romance which riffs on the
mumblecore movement, a group of films not particularly known for its diverse
demographic.
Jenkins’ If
Beale Street Can Talk is very much more of the same when we consider his body
of work. A matter of fact drama based on a novel by James Baldwin. With the
inspiration of Wong Kar-Wai clearly in mind, the film ebbs and flows in a
fashion which may be unfamiliar to those who expect a more typical sense of
narrative structure. Characters we expect to reappear, do not, yet their
actions and thoughts linger long after they leave the screen. Much like
Jenkins’ previous works, this is not unexpected. For a viewer like myself,
whose enjoyment of more typical modern features is at a slight point of contempt,
Beale Street’s way is warmly met by me.
Bathed in the
beautiful, warming glow of James Laxton’s cinematography, Jenkins captures the
thoughts and emotions of his character's feelings in tightly framed, richly
light close-ups. Shots so detailed they point out the needless endeavour of 3D
or Secret Cinema to provide immersion. When Nicholas Britell's score soared, my tear ducts
often swelled, as is Jenkins ability to deliver us in front of these simple
characters leading complicated lives. The film explores the problematic themes
of redlining, rape, and racism in America, yet it never preaches. It’s
emotional moments never feel like they are pandering. The film’s expressions of
love never feel cloying or plastic.
The beauty in
Jenkins work, for an admirer like myself, lies in his ability to show us lives
that are being lived with no need for huge telegraphed scenes of sensation, yet
plenty of moments to provide reflection. When we observe the intimate moments
of our lead characters making love for the first time, it should be noted of
how black male sexuality is captured as not only an expression of love but as a
moment of vulnerability. The black male without aggression, something that
could possibly be missed by viewers as it is an element which still feels alien
to them.
If Beale Street
Could Talk, did not hold the same immediate emotional response as Moonlight
did. The latter film lodged a lump in my throat so large, I felt it may never
have left. However, Beale Street firmly establishes Jenkins as the most important
black filmmaker for a viewer such as me. Being a sensitive soul, it is
unsurprising that I hold a soft spot for many emotional and expressive
features, but it is with Jenkins for the third time running, that I have
watched a film of an artist and felt my chest would burst. The third time that
a filmmaker has opened a part of myself and explored particular emotions that I
myself have grappled with. It’s not to say that other filmmakers have not done
this. They do. Just not like this.
The point of
this ramble, which has taken me too long to write and you perhaps too long to
read, is that Jenkins’ framing of people of colour in Beale Street, like his
other features, or even Charles Burnett's, highlight and frame western black
cinema in a way that many other white filmmakers would quite simply be
uninterested in. The quality is there. What he’s doing with it is celebrating
us.
