Politics as reflected through the prism of a powerful love story between President of Botswana Seretse Khama (David Oyelowo) and British-born Ruth Williams (Rosamund Pike). (His subjects referred to her as “the African Queen.”) Director Amma Asante skillfully blends color into her narrative, letting viewers know what part of the world they’re in at all times, thanks in large part to her deployment of light and saturation. We never lose sight of what the couple is standing up against; for a novel change, it’s the love story that drives the politics. Screenwriter Guy Hibbert and Asante pull off a precision balancing act, illuminating the intensity of the love the couple shared and never once allowing their romance to take a back seat to the issues. Had she chosen to take the opposite approach, Asante and company would no doubt be up to their eyeballs in Oscar nominations. As is, this stands taller than any of 2017’s best picture nominees.
In A United Kingdom, a black man falls in love with a white woman, and their romance is tested by all sorts of opposing forces. In Get Out, a black man falls in love with a white woman, and...well, it’s a horror movie. It’s also well built, well acted, and well written, as is Kingdom.
Goodness, remember when movies mattered more than TV in Ye Olde National Conversation? It’s a pity neither of these is in the running for this, the year of #OscarNotSoWhite.
Speaking of women and minorities and horror, women are definitely a minority when it comes to directing, which may explain some of the impetus behind the horror anthology XX. Fellow critic Scott Marks approved of a little over half of the result: two of the four chapters plus the creative interstitials.
Cultural appropriation shifts from “problematic” to “horrific” in writer-director Jordan Peele’s sharp take on the scary world of stuff white people like — starting with the “total privacy” of isolated country estates, like the one black photographer Chris Washington (Daniel Kaluuya) visits with his white girlfriend Rose (Allison Williams) on a meet-the-parents weekend. (On the drive up from the city, the car hits a deer, and when Washington goes to check the body, there’s a telling shot of his foot leaving the asphalt and stepping into wilderness.) The jigsaw-tight structure is that of conventional horror done right — mercifully light on jump scares (instead opting for a number of disturbing reveals via moving camera) and mostly smart about mechanics. (Why go walking through a dark house in the middle of the night? Because you’re trying to sneak a cigarette, away from your disapproving girlfriend and her even more disapproving family.) And layered atop that structure is a squirmingly funny portrayal of tortured race relations, even among people of ostensibly good will. It’s not subtle, but it <em>is</em> clever, and besides, this is a horror movie — one in which the black guy is determined not to die.
What else? Oh, yes, fellow Cortland High Class of ’91 alum Sam Tripoli is one of the best bits of the stand-up comedian documentary Dying Laughing, in part because he actually tells a detailed, lively anecdote about dealing with a heckler. (I’ve got a similar yarn from a Patton Oswalt visit to San Diego that would make a fine stand-up routine of its own. Something to work on for my future days as a starving ex-critic.)
And the romantic silliness of You’re Killing Me Susana was easy to watch, if nothing else.
Politics as reflected through the prism of a powerful love story between President of Botswana Seretse Khama (David Oyelowo) and British-born Ruth Williams (Rosamund Pike). (His subjects referred to her as “the African Queen.”) Director Amma Asante skillfully blends color into her narrative, letting viewers know what part of the world they’re in at all times, thanks in large part to her deployment of light and saturation. We never lose sight of what the couple is standing up against; for a novel change, it’s the love story that drives the politics. Screenwriter Guy Hibbert and Asante pull off a precision balancing act, illuminating the intensity of the love the couple shared and never once allowing their romance to take a back seat to the issues. Had she chosen to take the opposite approach, Asante and company would no doubt be up to their eyeballs in Oscar nominations. As is, this stands taller than any of 2017’s best picture nominees.
In A United Kingdom, a black man falls in love with a white woman, and their romance is tested by all sorts of opposing forces. In Get Out, a black man falls in love with a white woman, and...well, it’s a horror movie. It’s also well built, well acted, and well written, as is Kingdom.
Goodness, remember when movies mattered more than TV in Ye Olde National Conversation? It’s a pity neither of these is in the running for this, the year of #OscarNotSoWhite.
Speaking of women and minorities and horror, women are definitely a minority when it comes to directing, which may explain some of the impetus behind the horror anthology XX. Fellow critic Scott Marks approved of a little over half of the result: two of the four chapters plus the creative interstitials.
Cultural appropriation shifts from “problematic” to “horrific” in writer-director Jordan Peele’s sharp take on the scary world of stuff white people like — starting with the “total privacy” of isolated country estates, like the one black photographer Chris Washington (Daniel Kaluuya) visits with his white girlfriend Rose (Allison Williams) on a meet-the-parents weekend. (On the drive up from the city, the car hits a deer, and when Washington goes to check the body, there’s a telling shot of his foot leaving the asphalt and stepping into wilderness.) The jigsaw-tight structure is that of conventional horror done right — mercifully light on jump scares (instead opting for a number of disturbing reveals via moving camera) and mostly smart about mechanics. (Why go walking through a dark house in the middle of the night? Because you’re trying to sneak a cigarette, away from your disapproving girlfriend and her even more disapproving family.) And layered atop that structure is a squirmingly funny portrayal of tortured race relations, even among people of ostensibly good will. It’s not subtle, but it <em>is</em> clever, and besides, this is a horror movie — one in which the black guy is determined not to die.
What else? Oh, yes, fellow Cortland High Class of ’91 alum Sam Tripoli is one of the best bits of the stand-up comedian documentary Dying Laughing, in part because he actually tells a detailed, lively anecdote about dealing with a heckler. (I’ve got a similar yarn from a Patton Oswalt visit to San Diego that would make a fine stand-up routine of its own. Something to work on for my future days as a starving ex-critic.)
And the romantic silliness of You’re Killing Me Susana was easy to watch, if nothing else.
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