It is rarely the purview of narrative cinema to base its essential premise on an idea; this is much more typically an area for documentary. But, eschewing all of the potential pitfalls, DuVernay boldly goes forth and creates a feature film based on the book by Isabel Wilkerson "Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents". The film focuses on Wilkerson, played by Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor, as she researches, develops and expounds her fundamental argument: racism, misogyny and group discrimination in all of its forms is a feature of the same phenomenon: caste; namely, society's way of creating inferior and superior groups in a way that is designed to benefit those who possess the power to place themselves at the top of the hierarchy. In some ways this idea seems overly simplistic. Can one genuinely equate the Final Solution with the Middle Passage? Is it not reductive to see these two seemingly distinct phenomena as being connected by the same concept? This is an argument made by one of the characters in the film as Wilkerson travels to Germany to investigate the ways in which Jews were persecuted during the Third Reich. However, the film makes it clear that DuVernay has made up her mind: she is fully supportive of Wilkerson's thesis and she delivers a series of historical observations and montage set-pieces which rush, collide, enthral and thrill the viewer and provide a moving case for the theory on display.
The fact that the architecture of this film makes it extremely difficult to disentangle the intellectual from the artistic is what makes it so challenging to review. If one attempts to separate, for example, the art direction, the use of music, the incredible acting, particularly by Ellis-Taylor, and the beautiful montage sequences from the central concept then one is at risk of assessing the surface of the film and may miss, or perhaps betray a lack of appreciation for, what lies beneath. You see, I did think the film looked beautiful, sounded beautiful and contained exemplary performances. I thought the film soared with passionate ambition, humanity and warmth. But, despite all of these things, I'm not sure the film does enough in and of itself to merit agreement with its fundamental premise.
After all, how could a 2-hour-22-minute feature film achieve such a thing while also providing a human tale which grounds and reveals its central character? If DuVernay really wanted to achieve such pedagogical ambitions, surely she would've been better served with a documentary after all. Yet the reason this is not a documentary is because the film sets out to enable the audience to live through the protagonist's story as a unique way of accessing its central idea. It is art plus intellectualism. Taking this approach places more pressure on the film than any movie ought to be subject to. The film's merit ought simply to lie with its ability to tell its story and if it had done so without feeling the need to reach such clear conclusions in addition to persuading the viewer of those same conclusions then it would've had the potential to be a perfect film. Alas...
Art soars highest, in my view, when it encourages the viewer to ask questions. It is not for art to tell us the answers but to encourage us to search for those answers within ourselves. What this film does achieve is that it encourages us to access our own humanity, it provides a bridge for people of all colours, cultures, backgrounds and genders to find common cause and to unite in the face of prejudice and discrimination. It encourages this through the horror and the suffering it shows, while also depicting triumph against adversity, and a unity that is able to be forged against the backdrop of historic and pervasive prejudice. It presents two roads that are open to us: connection and common humanity or separation and devitalising resentment. It links the past to the present and warns us of the need to appreciate the pitfalls we are constantly in danger of falling into. All of this was achieved not because of the film's central intellectual argument but, I shall argue, despite it. You simply don't need to believe that the Final Solution and the Middle Passage were motivated by the same phenomena in order to be moved by the power the film possesses.
So, I found this to be a wonderfully powerful and engaging film that I feel privileged to have watched. It is undoubtedly one of the most unique cinematic experiences I've ever had. The fact that I have to conclude that it doesn't entirely work on its own merits should not detract from the undeniable ways in which the film is effective. The depth of emotional experience that this film has the potential to conjure is worth the price of admission alone.
The fact that the architecture of this film makes it extremely difficult to disentangle the intellectual from the artistic is what makes it so challenging to review. If one attempts to separate, for example, the art direction, the use of music, the incredible acting, particularly by Ellis-Taylor, and the beautiful montage sequences from the central concept then one is at risk of assessing the surface of the film and may miss, or perhaps betray a lack of appreciation for, what lies beneath. You see, I did think the film looked beautiful, sounded beautiful and contained exemplary performances. I thought the film soared with passionate ambition, humanity and warmth. But, despite all of these things, I'm not sure the film does enough in and of itself to merit agreement with its fundamental premise.
After all, how could a 2-hour-22-minute feature film achieve such a thing while also providing a human tale which grounds and reveals its central character? If DuVernay really wanted to achieve such pedagogical ambitions, surely she would've been better served with a documentary after all. Yet the reason this is not a documentary is because the film sets out to enable the audience to live through the protagonist's story as a unique way of accessing its central idea. It is art plus intellectualism. Taking this approach places more pressure on the film than any movie ought to be subject to. The film's merit ought simply to lie with its ability to tell its story and if it had done so without feeling the need to reach such clear conclusions in addition to persuading the viewer of those same conclusions then it would've had the potential to be a perfect film. Alas...
Art soars highest, in my view, when it encourages the viewer to ask questions. It is not for art to tell us the answers but to encourage us to search for those answers within ourselves. What this film does achieve is that it encourages us to access our own humanity, it provides a bridge for people of all colours, cultures, backgrounds and genders to find common cause and to unite in the face of prejudice and discrimination. It encourages this through the horror and the suffering it shows, while also depicting triumph against adversity, and a unity that is able to be forged against the backdrop of historic and pervasive prejudice. It presents two roads that are open to us: connection and common humanity or separation and devitalising resentment. It links the past to the present and warns us of the need to appreciate the pitfalls we are constantly in danger of falling into. All of this was achieved not because of the film's central intellectual argument but, I shall argue, despite it. You simply don't need to believe that the Final Solution and the Middle Passage were motivated by the same phenomena in order to be moved by the power the film possesses.
So, I found this to be a wonderfully powerful and engaging film that I feel privileged to have watched. It is undoubtedly one of the most unique cinematic experiences I've ever had. The fact that I have to conclude that it doesn't entirely work on its own merits should not detract from the undeniable ways in which the film is effective. The depth of emotional experience that this film has the potential to conjure is worth the price of admission alone.