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| Grace film poster. |
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| Grace (Jordan Wells) embodies her name in every way. DP: Tehillah De Castro. |
As a carefree, ordinary girl named Grace approaches her milestone birthday and upcoming baptism, she succumbs to the joyful pleasures of youth alongside her sister and Louise, a childhood friend. The charisma between the triad presents a natural friendship depiction. The lines of love are drawn in its unadulterated forms— affectionate sibling biology and the kindred camaraderie. What happens when those invisible lines are unexpectedly blurred? Can an innocent heart stay ruled by a strict upbringing or will it surpass the safe, platonic road?
Big Mama’s teachings on the Deep South stage heightens Grace’s burgeoning sexuality dilemma. It’s where the unsettling righteousness bellows beneath the exterior of precious girlhood. Between the delightful smiles and the singsong handclap games, the devout undertones disturb the humble peace.
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| Louise (Alexis Cofield) stands on the porch, smiling down on Grace (Jordan Wells) and her sister (Mikayla Lashae Bartholomew). DP: Tehillah De Castro. |
Among the pastel colored walls and the elegant white curtains parted on large, charming windows, Grace feels the pressure to be good, to follow Big Mama’s respectable example. Inside the American Gothic styled house, intentional cross patterns are repeated cues upholding the Bible structure. Although no men occupy this makeshift Black feminine utopia, an ominous presence operates as a patriarchal beacon, the judgment ensuring that all young girls must eventually submit to their duties as wives, to suppress any other “unlawful” inklings.
Moreover, Grace’s baptism will bring the ultimate test.
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| Grace and Louise strike a cord. DP: Tehillah De Castro. |
In the trajectory of Juliana Kasumu’s Losing Joy, Allie Morgan’s Sisters, Mz Roth’s code switch, Harris’s Pure, and many other Black sapphic films eloquently helmed by Black filmmakers, Grace sheds profound light on soft queer films highlighting multifaceted experiences. These brave creators are not rehashing the same, copy/paste narratives that we’re accustomed to seeing in regards to how Black women, girls, and femmes are portrayed.
By centralizing blackness through an authentic lens, the characters must battle the fights (both internal and external) that come with the global impact of the dominant heterosexual landscape. These are the directors that deserve to invent original stories and adapt the inherent literature (Alice Walker, Toni Morrison, Maya Angelou, Gloria Gaynor, Paule Marshall…) for us to devour, to engage. Since their films asks and answers questions long raised in Black community, they need our support the most.
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| The most metaphorical shot in the film. DP: Tehillah De Castro. |
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| A straightened haired Grace rejects Louise. DP: Tehillah De Castro. |
After premiering earlier this year at the Sundance Film Festival, Grace has been shown around various other film festivals such as Inside Out Toronto, Newfest Pride, and the upcoming Frameline and BlackStar Film Festival. Grace —a word meaning simple elegance— is a must see for embracing its definition beyond the leading character. Every element (small or large) enriches the layered, impactful narrative: tightly knitted frames containing vital symmetries and subtle performances by a talented cast led by its director, some period costumes (which Harris designed) call to mind Julie Dash’s Daughters of the Dust— the white dresses nodding to the film’s costume designer Arline Burks Gant, and the house right down to the object placements, an appropriate foundation for stern religious order.
Overall, Grace is cinematic magic without spells being cast onscreen. While the visual feast thoughtfully conveys a Black girl grappling with her awakened identity, its story teaches the notion that being true to oneself is more so a blessing than a sin to be cleansed away.
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