Following up your Best Picture winner can be quite the uphill battle but fresh off of his Moonlight triumph at the 2017 Oscar ceremony, Barry Jenkins evokes a similarly tender, powerful and measured piece of filmmaking with his latest feature, If Beale Street Could Talk. Adapted from James Baldwin's novel of the same name for the screen, this ravishing ode to childhood sweethearts and unconditional love in an unforgiving world tarnished by prejudice is the year's most lyrical, poetic release to date.
Set in early-1970s Harlem, Alonzo Hunt (Stephan Hames) is arrested for a crime he did not commit and his wife-to-be, Tish Rivers (KiKi Layne), must learn to navigate the hostile environment with only her close family as support. With a baby on the way and determined that her long-term partner, nicknamed Fonny, will be there to witness their child's birth, those closest to the couple attempt to build a case that seeks to free her love but are reminded of the painful struggles facing two young, black lovers. Co-starring Teyonah Parris, Regina King, Colman Domingo and Brian Tyree Henry, Beale Street is a beautifully intimate and stirring tale; while it isn't quite as well-rounded as Moonlight, it cements Jenkins as one of the most soulful cinematic voices in only his third feature.
Like a finely-tuned orchestra, Beale Street is a richly-textured, superbly-crafted film that sings as one splendidly unified harmony. Understated and considered, laced with a stirring sense of poignancy and powered by something as plainly complex as love, it immerses you in an era - nay, a feeling - that is so dashingly compelling and fulfilling that you cannot help but be enraptured by the experience. Jenkins' luscious, eloquent direction is enhanced further by James Laxton's extraordinary cinematography, with such captivating detail, colour and warmth found within each and every frame. It's a cinematic treasure, aesthetically, stunning and lived-in.
Set in early-1970s Harlem, Alonzo Hunt (Stephan Hames) is arrested for a crime he did not commit and his wife-to-be, Tish Rivers (KiKi Layne), must learn to navigate the hostile environment with only her close family as support. With a baby on the way and determined that her long-term partner, nicknamed Fonny, will be there to witness their child's birth, those closest to the couple attempt to build a case that seeks to free her love but are reminded of the painful struggles facing two young, black lovers. Co-starring Teyonah Parris, Regina King, Colman Domingo and Brian Tyree Henry, Beale Street is a beautifully intimate and stirring tale; while it isn't quite as well-rounded as Moonlight, it cements Jenkins as one of the most soulful cinematic voices in only his third feature.
Like a finely-tuned orchestra, Beale Street is a richly-textured, superbly-crafted film that sings as one splendidly unified harmony. Understated and considered, laced with a stirring sense of poignancy and powered by something as plainly complex as love, it immerses you in an era - nay, a feeling - that is so dashingly compelling and fulfilling that you cannot help but be enraptured by the experience. Jenkins' luscious, eloquent direction is enhanced further by James Laxton's extraordinary cinematography, with such captivating detail, colour and warmth found within each and every frame. It's a cinematic treasure, aesthetically, stunning and lived-in.
Nicholas Britell's score is utterly stunning, far and away one of the year's very best musical collections. It so very beneficially enhances the emotion of Alonzo and Tish's story, an almost haunting experience that successfully perfects a more classical approach tinged with more experimental elements that give the score some real character. A luscious sonic landscape is carefully crafted and Britell's moody, resonant score plays a crucial role in the film's lasting power and potency. At the risk of sounding cliched, Britell's score is pure magic, a completely enchanting accomplishment.
Stephan James and Regina Hall, particularly, are mightily impressive, rendering a great deal of anguish and frustration into their multifaceted characters. They each intensify the script's themes effectively, exploring the segregation and judgment of the era with complexity and dynamism, driving the film's messages with confidence. KiKi Layne's performance takes a little longer to adapt to; it is a purposely restrained turn and even upon exiting the theatre, I remained unsure as to whether it won me over - but over time, you come to appreciate the raw authenticity of her work, the subtleties, nuance and projected innocence that shapes Tish, her growth and journey. She develops a beautifully intimate chemistry with James that crackles, and the pair is utterly convincing as lovers in a harsh time.
If there's one element that weakens Beale Street, it is the adapted screenplay. Reminiscent of 2016's Fences, this is clearly a piece of art that once belonged to another form. From the lovely but sometimes overly poetic and flowery dialogue to the elongated pauses punctuated throughout conversations, there is something stilted in the line delivery, the language diluting its effectiveness. Its urgent, potent subject matter and thematic material never quite aligns with the subtler, muted approach to the sometimes oversimplified story which, layered with frequent voiceovers, can feel strained at times. It is perhaps a feature that will be more rewarding on a second viewing, but this is something that held me back somewhat from falling completely under the spell Beale Street casts.
Furthermore, the biggest point of contention that I have with Beale Street is one particular plot beat. Without wadding into spoiler territory too heavily (although some events will be inferred loosely, so turn away now if you are completely avoiding the film's finer details), it raises an unsavory question: when Sharon Rivers (Hall) heads abroad in order to trace an individual linked to the case, the witness' response isn't what needs to be heard in order to benefit the case, complicating matters. Rather quickly, it is dismissed and left undiscussed moving forward; it provokes an uncomfortable 'what if?' hanging over the picture that almost taints the conviction of the central relationship. Unresolved either way, it leaves a bitter taste; such a relevant, timely moment deserves a more thoughtful examination. It seems Beale Street doesn't quite know what to do with itself here, so ignores it altogether. This is something that I'll dig into and address as the film receives a wider release - but you'll know the moment as soon as it occurs, and I'd love to hear what you thought.
Even despite these minor setbacks, Jenkins proves that Moonlight wasn't a one-off, and his rich, compelling cinematic voice turns If Beale Street Could Talk into more than a worthy follow-up, and something that we should marvel at. He captures the, or rather 'a', black experience with depth and grace featuring an earnest exploration of culture and family running through its core; while Jenkins is perhaps a stronger director than he is a writer in this instance, Beale Street still asserts him - in only his second major feature, no less - as one of the most talented, accomplished filmmakers of his generation. With this vivid, visually lush and emotionally mesmeric effort, Beale Street is a film worth speaking about.
Summary: Barry Jenkins' If Beale Street Could Talk is an immaculately-shot, emotionally-stirring and passionate-made ode to love, time and humanity, as poetic in its dialogue as it is in its visuals.
Stephan James and Regina Hall, particularly, are mightily impressive, rendering a great deal of anguish and frustration into their multifaceted characters. They each intensify the script's themes effectively, exploring the segregation and judgment of the era with complexity and dynamism, driving the film's messages with confidence. KiKi Layne's performance takes a little longer to adapt to; it is a purposely restrained turn and even upon exiting the theatre, I remained unsure as to whether it won me over - but over time, you come to appreciate the raw authenticity of her work, the subtleties, nuance and projected innocence that shapes Tish, her growth and journey. She develops a beautifully intimate chemistry with James that crackles, and the pair is utterly convincing as lovers in a harsh time.
If there's one element that weakens Beale Street, it is the adapted screenplay. Reminiscent of 2016's Fences, this is clearly a piece of art that once belonged to another form. From the lovely but sometimes overly poetic and flowery dialogue to the elongated pauses punctuated throughout conversations, there is something stilted in the line delivery, the language diluting its effectiveness. Its urgent, potent subject matter and thematic material never quite aligns with the subtler, muted approach to the sometimes oversimplified story which, layered with frequent voiceovers, can feel strained at times. It is perhaps a feature that will be more rewarding on a second viewing, but this is something that held me back somewhat from falling completely under the spell Beale Street casts.
Furthermore, the biggest point of contention that I have with Beale Street is one particular plot beat. Without wadding into spoiler territory too heavily (although some events will be inferred loosely, so turn away now if you are completely avoiding the film's finer details), it raises an unsavory question: when Sharon Rivers (Hall) heads abroad in order to trace an individual linked to the case, the witness' response isn't what needs to be heard in order to benefit the case, complicating matters. Rather quickly, it is dismissed and left undiscussed moving forward; it provokes an uncomfortable 'what if?' hanging over the picture that almost taints the conviction of the central relationship. Unresolved either way, it leaves a bitter taste; such a relevant, timely moment deserves a more thoughtful examination. It seems Beale Street doesn't quite know what to do with itself here, so ignores it altogether. This is something that I'll dig into and address as the film receives a wider release - but you'll know the moment as soon as it occurs, and I'd love to hear what you thought.
Even despite these minor setbacks, Jenkins proves that Moonlight wasn't a one-off, and his rich, compelling cinematic voice turns If Beale Street Could Talk into more than a worthy follow-up, and something that we should marvel at. He captures the, or rather 'a', black experience with depth and grace featuring an earnest exploration of culture and family running through its core; while Jenkins is perhaps a stronger director than he is a writer in this instance, Beale Street still asserts him - in only his second major feature, no less - as one of the most talented, accomplished filmmakers of his generation. With this vivid, visually lush and emotionally mesmeric effort, Beale Street is a film worth speaking about.
Summary: Barry Jenkins' If Beale Street Could Talk is an immaculately-shot, emotionally-stirring and passionate-made ode to love, time and humanity, as poetic in its dialogue as it is in its visuals.