This is the time of year that all film critics love: the time when Hollywood brings forth its awards contenders, its artistic secret weapons—the movies that rely on great performances, great writing and great directing instead of a battering ram's worth of special effects. It seems that just about everything I'm seeing now has at least two of those elements—and two out of three ain't bad odds when it comes to an industry usually so focused on superhero movie franchises. Actually, there are so many good films out there—and so many just over the horizon—that it's hard to find space to write about all of them.
Case in point: out writer/director Justin Simien's whip-smart race comedy Dear White People. Last week I took in a matinee ( along with six other afternoon movie lovers ) of Simien's wonderful feature debut that has gotten a fair amount of attention—in part, because it's rare these days to see a movie take on the subject of race relations, let alone one that uses satire to get its points across. And if the use of irony to tackle what Simien has called "micro-racism" isn't enough for one movie, then there's the underlying and just as provocative theme of gender identity to boot.
Dear White People is the name of a radio show hosted by Sam ( the luminous Tessa Thompson, who gives a "star is born" performance ), a biracial activist hothead who has found her métier at the upper-crust ( fictional ) Ivy League college that she attends. Sam's fierce intelligence and fearlessness in exposing the subtle and not-so-subtle ways in which she and the other Black students are marginalized at the school has made her a lightning rod who finds friends and foes. Things escalate when Sam is unexpectedly elected head of the all-Black residential hall and she begins to exclude white students from eating lunch there—including Kurt ( Kyle Gallner ), the snarky, racist son of the college president, who announces with a straight face that "racism no longer exists in this country."
Aside from Sam, the movie focuses on three other Black students caught up in the racial maelstrom: Coco ( nee Colandrea ) ( played by Teyonah Parris ), who is busy emulating the popular white girls and is jealous of all the attention Sam gets; Reggie ( Marque Richardson ), the handsome jock and natural-born leader who lost the election to Sam and is also the son of the school's play-by-the-rules dean ( Dennis Haysbert ); and Lionel ( Tyler James Williams ), a geekish loner who finds himself enlisted to cover the controversy by the all-white school newspaper because of his color. The climax of events occurs when the college's all-white humor magazine ( headed by Kurt, of course ) hosts a Halloween party with a hip-hop theme. The students pack the frat house for the bash, many in blackface, proudly embracing a litany of abhorrent racial stereotypes. Not surprisingly, the aftermath changes the lives of Sam, Coco, Reggie and Lionel.
Although the characters aren't particularly complex—each seeming to represent a specific point Simien's wants to make about racism—his ear for sharp retorts keeps the catchy dialogue consistently fresh and funny. ( One of the frat boys describes Sam as "It's like Spike Lee and Oprah had some pissed-off baby." ) There's also not much story and some of the subplots get frayed in the process ( and some of the situations stretch credibility ); however, the satire never wilts and the movie's consistently entertaining. And Simien's underlying theme ( the struggle for identity which all the characters are going through ) is truly thought-provoking ( especially with Lionel—who, like Simien, is gay and Black ).
Dear White People certainly reminds one of School Daze and Do the Right Thing ( which Simien has acknowledged ), but it's obviously too soon to call him this generation's Spike Lee. That's maybe not just because he's only made this one film, great though it is, but more likely because that could be taken as too limiting—another form of casual racism as it were. Maybe Simien will be the next Spike Lee—or maybe he'll be that as well as the next Spielberg or Hitchcock or Kathryn Bigelow. Whatever he does next, I eagerly await.
Rene Russo's star turn in 1999's The Thomas Crown Affair as the stylish, brainy Catherine Banning just might be one of the sexiest things ever put on film. And the fact she has made so few movies in the ensuing years is a crime. But now she's back in a high-profile role in her husband Dan Gilroy's unsettling feature debut, Nightcrawler. At 60, Russo is an improbable but terrific match-up for the 33-year-old Jake Gyllenhaal.
Gyllenhaal plays Louis Bloom, a sociopath so desperate to succeed at anything in the netherworld of nighttime Los Angeles that when he accidentally latches onto a promising career he lets nothing stop his rapid rise to success. Stumbling into the world of video journalism ( where the motto is "If it bleeds, it leads" ), Lou begins shooting videotape of car crashes as well as horrific scenes of domestic violence, fires and the like—selling his noxious goodies to the world-weary Nina ( Russo ), the morning news director of a local TV channel whose low ratings are goosed by Lou's footage and who slowly becomes dependent on him.
Louis learns very quickly that the gorier the footage, the higher the price. With a police scanner, an upgrade in equipment and a dim-witted homeless guy as an unwitting accomplice, Lou is soon beating the competition to the scene. From there, it's just a short step from documenting to altering what he finds ( such as dragging a body into a better position for filming ) before police arrive. The amoral Lou—with his gaunt face and greasy hair tied up in a ponytail, and serial killer vibe—speaks in the phony aphorisms of a Tony Robbins seminar and we quickly discern that here is a man with no limits and no internal life.
Gyllenhaal is sensational as this creepy little worm, the ultimate cipher; in the less showy role, Russo is no less fine ( and her character is given unexpected shadings that help ). Gilroy ( who also wrote the picture ) has made what at first appears to be a modern-noir crime thriller like Collateral; however, as the movie progresses, it slowly reveals itself instead as the darkest of pitch-black comedies. ( Think Network and Black Swan, but keep going. ) There are credibility problems almost from the get-go that tip one off to this—for it to work, you have to give yourself entirely to the movie—but if one gives in to the delicious shivers the jaw-dropping scenes evoke, this audacious work is horrifyingly funny. At its most base, Nightcrawler certainly will make one's skin crawl—thrillingly so.
Film note:
Pride Films and Plays ( PFP ) is presenting another edition of its Queer Bits Film Festival Monday, Nov. 10, at the Public House Theatre, 3914 N. Clark St., with doors at 6:30 p.m. and screenings at 7:30 p.m. The fest includes 10 queer-themed shorts—all making their Chicago debuts—in a variety of genres. The screening will be followed by a talkback with several of the filmmakers. http://pridefilmsandplays.com/queer-bits-fall-film-fest/
Check out my archived reviews at www.windycitymediagroup.com or www.knightatthemovies.com . Readers can leave feedback at the latter website.
