Mangrove, the first of what will be five films by director Steve McQueen about the black experience in the United Kingdom, is sort of like the anti-Trial of the Chicago 7. It's devoid of manufactured emotional moments and speechifying, there is a real suspense in its courtroom scenes and it's less clumsy about drawing parallels between its late '60s setting and modern day conflicts.
The film is about a chapter in UK history that I, and I suspect most American viewers, knew nothing about -- the case of the Mangrove 9 -- which wound up being a watershed in that country's own civil rights movement, which is not as well known or venerated as our own.
It starts simply enough -- Frank Critchlow (played sensationally by Shaun Parkes) is a popular local restauranteur whose local spot The Mangrove has become more than just a West Indian dining establishment. It becomes a beloved meeting place for the local black community -- to sing and dance, to talk politics, to revel in their own traditions.
Its very existence ticks off a bigoted local policeman, who, if the film is to be believed, almost singlehandedly leads a campaign of harassment of the establishment which ultimately boils over in a protest that is itself violently attacked by the police.
Critchlow, as well as activists like Altheia Jones-LeCointe (a moving and magnificent Letitia Wright), are unjustly hauled off to jail and later court with a tremendous amount of institution opposition against them. Some of the nine defendants take the extraordinary risk of defending themselves in court and this leads to some real fireworks that I won't spoil here.
McQueen has been one of the most consistent and also surprising major directors of the moment. His last feature, Widows, was an unexpected detour into genre filmmaking that was both exciting and exacting. It's one of the most underrated films of the last few years and I was very curious to see what he was going to do next.
Small Axe -- which is a series of five films that will stream on Amazon -- is the most ambitious thing he has ever done. It's billed as television, but the production values and craftsmanship are more than worthy of the big screen. Mangrove is the first and it really makes a powerful statement. Surprisingly, the second entry -- the shorter and more atmospheric Lover's Rock -- is somehow even better.
It takes place mostly during an extended, raucous house party and is aided tremendously by an irresistible soundtrack of mid-to-late '70s reggae and disco jams that will make you want to get up on your feet. It's incredibly immersive -- you will feel like an attendee -- and it also feels like a lost documentary of the era, since the action and acting is so naturalistic and authentic.
And, at a time in covd, you will sorely miss the freedom of an old fashioned dance party.
At its center is a tentative romance that occurs organically between Michael Ward and Amarah-Jae St. Aubyn, two incredibly charismatic young actors who both have tremendous star potential. The movie itself runs just a little over an hour and is almost like a Terrence Malick mood piece.
Every so often this safe harbor for black joy is punctured -- by the threat of violence or white oppression -- but it proves mostly resilient, and this film, which may seem insubstantial on its surface, has a delayed sort of power. It plays beautiful as a companion piece to Mangrove, which is a heavier work, and taken as a whole it points to a director working on another level than many of his peers
I can't wait to watch the totality of his vision -- which has been both edifying and entertaining during a particularly dreary moment in this country.
No comments:
Post a Comment