Beautiful cinematography and a wonderful use of music highlight this melancholy, moving film about the gentrification of San Francisco that is pushing black communities to the polluted fringes.
The film feels a hair or two shy of reality, existing in a rarefied world where visual poetry supplants gritty realism, but I very much enjoyed the vibe this film generated and was able to relax into its aesthetic. It's got two impressive performances, one by Jimmie Fails, who also co-wrote, as the main protagonist, a young black man who squats in the vacant home that formerly belonged to his family; and the other by Jonathan Majors, who plays his artistic best friend. There have been a lot of welcome and very good black-themed movies in the last year or so, and this one shares more of the elegiac tone of an "If Beale Street Could Talk" than the angry energy of a "BlacKkKlansman" or "Blindspotting."
I will say though that one revelation about this film changed my impressions of it a little bit for the worse, and I'm not sure whether or not it's fair of me. I assumed the creators of it were people of color, and that what I was getting was a film from a black perspective. But then I discovered that the director and producers are white men, and now I'm not so sure how I feel about it, mostly because I no longer know whether or not this film is authentic to the black experience. It still has good things to say either way, and it certainly doesn't traffic in the same kind of cultural appropriation as something like "Green Book" from last year, but I have to admit that I'm not sure how I feel about consuming black stories as told by white people.
It is a lovely film though, and it captures a lot of the magic that the city of San Francisco has exercised on me personally from visits there. Which makes it all the more tragic that it's becoming a city that's out of reach for most middle class Americans, let alone disenfranchised minorities.
Grade: A
