I left Philadelphia's downtown Prince Theatre from watching
Night Comes On with an urgent sea of unhinged sadness rushing forward, wiping away spilt tears and trying to regain some semblance of decent composure. This raw, barren film struck such a resonating cord, my own two lost sisters, two dear friends whom I will never see or hear again, floating at the forefront of my mind.
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| Sisters on board: Abby (Tatum Marilyn Hall) gets Angel (Dominique Fishback) to go to Long Island under false pretenses. |
Night Comes On, set in Philadelphia where every scene bears familiarity, begins with Angel's release from juvenile detention. She is about to turn eighteen, the age of consenting adulthood. The first thing on her agenda, however, is not seeing her sister from whom she's been separated for months. Filled with grief and anger over witnessing a violent tragedy, the revenge devil rests on her shoulder, the dark clouded apparatus that cloaks judgment.
The road to nowhere-- sans dreams and ambitions-- seems to be the package for every brown and black girl in America, a tougher plight in the fifth largest city of poverty, tougher still for one with criminal history. Without a nurturing maternal figure to lead Angel down a redemptive path or a sympathetic counselor to heal inner wounds, her lack of self worth muddies her second chance out in the cruel, harsh landscape. She makes heartbreaking choices, allowing her own body to be disrespected, mentally holding onto the visions of pulling other weaponry triggers
Still, Angel is happy to see Abby despite deleting her text messages. They have an awkward exchange. A silence stretched for miles highlights the fragile relationship between young siblings, a thread that can easily sever at the most tremulous times. Yet the biological bond between sisters is felt as Angel goes to Abby's latest foster home. They make small talk. Abby is more excited about Angel's birthday than Angel. Angel is void and distracted, bloodthirsty. She perks up at the mention of their father. Her stern parole officer couldn't give personal information due to circumstances, but she believes that Abby would. However, Angel underestimates that Abby is perceptive and intelligent. This will later cause major conflict.
Angel then faces more setbacks. Her girlfriend dumps her, leaving Angel in a hopeless, sunken place. During a vulnerable evening, silent and solemn Angel has no one to ask for help. She seeks loneliness and safety among shady places and those that make her invisible. By the wee dawn, all that is lost is lost again.
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| Angel constantly reminisces about her mother (Nastashia Fuller)-- a quiet, gentle figure whose demure presence shapes Angel. Sadly, it is likely that the father had been abusing the mother, but she could not leave him. Angel witnessing her death |
Angel and Abby certainly have different personalities. Whereas Abby can make instant friends, Angel is intensely quiet and guarded. They make friends on the bus to Long Island. These girls are typical friendly girls, a clique of jubilance and innocence, a little younger than Angel and older than Abby. Angel stares at them, observing like a spectator in the wrong group. Abby seems right at home.
Angel is upset by Abby's betrayal-- that their whole trip wasn't to see their father at all.
At the beach, however, Angel and Abby showcases how anger dissolves into splendid happiness and bliss. Everything can be forgiven and forgotten. No amount of time apart diminishes the way sisters can mean to each other. Abby is the remaining light in Angel's life, her hope and moral compass. The love conveyed between them a thrilling spectacle frolicking in the water, their brown girl bodies a beautiful contrast against endless blue waters and coarse white sand. Almost reminds one of
Moonlight's Juan and Little.
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| Girls at the beach. |
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| Angel carries Abby on her back. |
Throughout, I was caught by the feelings that an older sister has for her younger one, the follower, the one who looks up, which the screenplay expresses vividly well. I recalled countless annoyances, the many mini battles, late night conversations, good times. For ten years, I shared a bunk bed with her. Like Abby, my sister (and our brothers) were eventually in the system, roaming from foster home to foster home. The family would meet on Mondays at juvenile courts in a room with one door. She was finally emancipated at eighteen. We spent time together-- so much catching up, having been separated. We had spats and arguments along the way. She disappeared in 2010, leaving behind no trace. Her absence cuts like a knife.
Meanwhile, my other younger sister on my father's side whom I never met, died two years ago in September. I will always remember her high pitched voice, our long conversations on Facebook, and regret never taking the time to see her in the flesh.
Night Comes On is a medicinal balm soothing the few broken parts inside. Angel and Abby's sisterhood struck a cord-- an art that moved and expressed vicarious feeling difficult to release day by day. It means something profound and sacred to find a tie to one's own personal struggle from that of two characters framing a beautiful picture.
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| Angel's got a gun. |
Jordana Spiro has directed a powerful, significant film with a raw, intelligent screenplay co-written with Angelica Nwandu. The merit lies fully in the dignified performance of Fishback, offering a complex portrait of a girl who realizes at the most pivotal moment that she has something to lose-- her sister, the most important person in her world. Tatum Marilyn Hall in her first role is quite stellar, holding her own against seasoned Fishback, expressing the right emotional notes from heartbreak to disappointment.
Night Comes On is a solid revenge tale with an affectionate twist. Angel faces her demons alone and realizes that the act of pressing forward positively far outweighs the aftermath of an even greater tragedy. Angel can build a new start and become the steady, influential figure Abby can count on. They need each other in order to survive in a remorseless system that chews and spits them out.
Moral of this sentimental narrative: a sister's love will always be eternal regardless if the sister is here on the earth or in spirit.
