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doomonfilm · 4 years ago

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Thoughts : The Photograph (2020)

2020 ended up being a surprisingly strong year in film, as I’ve mentioned before. It was so surprisingly strong, in fact, that I’ll likely spend a bit of 2021 checking out the films that I missed. With Black History Month in the home stretch, and having recently taken in a brilliant Lakeith Stanfield performance in Judas and the Black Messiah, now felt like the perfect time to take a small step backwards and finally take in The Photograph.

Michael Block (Lakeith Stanfield), a writer for The Republic, heads to Louisiana post-Hurricane Katrina to interview New Orleans resident Isaac Jefferson (Rob Morgan). During the initial interview, Michael notices a picture of Christina Eames (Chanté Adams) taken by Isaac that piques his curiosity. Meanwhile, New Yorker Mae Morton (Issa Rae) is reeling from the recent death of her estranged mother, the same Christina Eames from Michael’s picture of interest, by reading a leader penned to her by Christina. The letter speaks of Christina’s journey from New Orleans to New York in the mid-1980’s, which entailed leaving her lover Isaac Jefferson (Y’lan Noel) behind to pursue her career as a photographer while trying to raise a young Mae (Dakota Paradise). At the same time, Mae is working her own way through a complicated romance with Michael, who has discovered her via Isaac’s connections. The two quickly connect, but Mae’s journeys through the past and Michael’s desires for his future present obstacles in the way of their love.

There’s something bittersweet about the normalization of Blackness in a dramatic romantic context, but films like The Photograph prove that this is a sorely needed element in the overall spectrum of film. Even Love Jones, the closest immediate equivalent to this film I can conjure, spends a solid amount of time identifying its love as specifically Black, rather than Black characters falling in love similar to the way two individuals from any race or background are capable of. The way that The Photograph wears its Blackness on its sleeve through nuance rather than statement humanizes all the characters involved while simultaneously inviting others into the world rather than holding others up in comparison. The film is also able to navigate intimacy and conflict within the confines of burgeoning love without resorting to extremes, which is another refreshing aspect of the film, as most times these aspects serve as some sort of metaphor for bigger power struggles between cultural and sexual identities when normally placed in the Black film construct.

Paralleling the romantic journey of Mae and Michael with that of Christina and Isaac opens both us and Mae up to a world of discovery, especially in light of the estrangement Mae feels from Christina in the wake of her death. Making Christina’s revelations mirror Michael’s aspirations, and having Mae watch both unfold to her in the same span of time, sews together both stories so cleanly that it’s not hard to take them in as a packaged deal. In many ways, the generational aspects of the love, honesty and respect shown in The Photograph are new and bold, which is incredibly ironic in its own right as trauma seems to be the only thing we are familiar with seeing handed down generationally in many Black films. While the film is not absent of trauma, what it really is hoping to provide us is a generational opportunity for discovery of a deeply introspective nature that anyone can identify with regardless of where you come from.

Much like the varied approaches to love we are presented with, the narrative shifts between modern day New York and mid-1980’s Louisiana broaden our emotional perspective. The soundtrack works in a similar way, laying out a string of modern and classic R&B that drives home the timeless nature of love’s peaks and valleys. While they truly serve no purpose other than identifying where a particular portion of the story is taking place, the New York and Louisiana locations chosen perfectly embody their particular geography and characteristics without leaning on the familiar. The cinematography bounces between artistic and utilitarian, much like life and love itself, but it is always honest and non-judgemental.

As the spiritual center of the film, Chanté Adams carries so much strength, determination and longing for improvement that it carries both the narrative, and us as viewers, through the film as we feel every second of her emotional ups and downs. The world needs more of Lakeith Stanfield’s kindhearted nature and casual charm in leading man roles, as it is easy to imprint the best qualities we see in ourselves onto him as a protagonist. Amazingly, I’ve not taken in much of Issa Rae’s work, but at the risk of sounding cliché, her ability to focus realness in her characterizations fills up the screen. Lil’ Rel Howery and Teyonah Parris display wonderful chemistry, and Parris steps up to the plate in terms of matching Howery’s quick wit. Y’lan Noel and Rob Morgan bring Isaac Jefferson to life, both in his youthful pride and his regret from lived experience, respectively. Appearances by Kelvin Harrison Jr., Jasmine Cephas Jones, Chelsea Peretti, Wakeema Hollis, Courtney B. Vance, Maxwell Whittington-Cooper, Marsha Stephanie Blake, Phoenix Noelle, Rylee Gabrielle King and Dakota Paradise, among others, serve to populate the world of the film.

While I have become used to seeing films like The Photograph get overlooked when awards season rolls around, it feels like the film industry dropped the ball by not at least recognizing the acting efforts in the film. With Hollywood often finding itself on the receiving end of criticism for a lack of diversity, honoring films like The Photograph feels like easy steps in the right direction that could be taken, but often are not.

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