‘Decision to Leave,’ A Dark Romantic Mystery Is Best Film of 2022

 

Decision to Leave film poster. 

Decision to Leave will probably burn your whole entire soul alive.

The titillating, cat and mouse story filled with many dangerous twists and turns keeps you on the edge of your seat, nerves shivering, breaths coming out in charged pants. You must pay attention to every last detail that transpires between Jang Hae-joon— the smart, married cop and Song Seo-rae—the widowed murder suspect. As their surveilling roles push and pull against the other in some strangely riveting magnetism, the provocative game between them intensifies into an emotional fire threatening to forever haunt them both.

And my goodness, you want it to. The chemistry is that smoldering. 

Inspector Hae-joon (Park Hae-il) is trying to decide if Seo-rae (Tang Wei) purposefully pushed her husband off a mountain. DP: KIM Ji-yong/MUBI.

The first murder mystery in Busan, South Korea leads Hae-joon, a former smoker and insomniac with a poetic sensibility and knuckle cracking proficiency, into solving the case of a dead man fallen down from a mountain. The hungry bugs have already started devouring the deceased’s flesh, fluttering in his wide, opened eyes. Naturally, the wife Seo-rae, a Chinese caretaker of elder women who see her as a long lost granddaughter, is the best possible suspect for the crime. Very demure and subdued, not the grieving picture of a widow, Seo-rae is already not wearing her wedding ring and going right back to work. She pointedly reveals that she is not a benevolent person, that she is a wise being of the sea. The sea will eventually become the most devastating element of their acquaintance. Although Hae-joon proclaims to be a sea person too, his actions speak mountainous volumes. 

From the seat of his parked car, an attentive Hae-joon watches Seo-rae’s tender movements during stakeouts. He grows more and more intrigued by the striking young woman who feeds an outdoor cat, studies Korean soap operas, and consumes ice cream for dinner. As he calls her or she calls him, he imagines being at her side, seeing her close up, observing her responses to him. The obsession is a most believable slow building turmoil that begins bleeding into his sixteen-year relationship to Ahn, a genius power plant worker he visits once a week in the town of Ipo. Around Seo-rae, Hae-joon experiences pleasant sleeps in his car, waking up blissful and behaving kinder than usual to his coworkers. 

However, whilst having sex with Ahn— who believes Hae-joon is occupied in another case— Hae-joon’s mind concentrates on the mysterious Seo-rae, primarily her x-ray. Post coital, he lies to Ahn about the situation, switching the roles of Seo-rae and her dead husband. This casual fib will only twist on him later. Coincidentally enough, Ahn talks about her co-worker June quite often (even June’s crush/jealousy). Hae-joon is too preoccupied with Seo-rae to understand, let alone focus on these subtle red flags from his wife. Thus, Ahn is openly comfortable discussing June’s obvious desires and a closed off Hae-joon pretends that his simmering passion for Seo-rae does not exist. Not speaking on it means not acknowledging, not acting on it. 

Many light flirtatious interactions between Seo-rae and Hae-joon come into play in both police stations— Buran and Ipo. DP: KIM Ji-yong/MUBI. 

The cop is sinking further down the rabbit hole and only Soo-wan, his male partner notices. Hae-joon slips up in his task, leaving Seo-rae free to do her sleuthing on him. Soo-wan believes Seo-rae guilty and Ahn remains in the dark. Seo-rae is an isolated woman with no outlet in which to reveal her innermost thoughts and feelings except using her phone as a recording diary/translator. Her motives are purely secretive, adding layers to the intrigue of her character, a character who is adept, calculating, quick yet not immune to falling into the complications of desire, of love. She is seemingly playing this poor, sopping detective. At the same time, she is learning from him, becoming educated beyond learning Korean. He excites her, shows a tenderness rarely bestowed on her by a man. The key to everything is in shared technology— the phones that come and go as evidence, the cyber translations from Chinese to Korean, the earbuds, the tracking/surveillance. Also, Hae-joon sneakily catching Seo-rae’s whispers to her cat and reading transcripts of her Apple Watch voiceovers are simply too endearing— he gets a euphoric rush from realizing she thinks of him as he thinks of her. 

Old women are sadly used in this particular narrative as scapegoats. Seo-rae’s thirst for killing began with her dying mother who tells Seo-rae about her Korean heritage in the Homi Mountain. Unfortunately, it is a capital offense to aide in death despite Seo-rae’s mother requesting the fentanyl. A desperate Seo-rae marries in order not to be deported and endures brutality including her maniacal abuser’s initials tattooed on her flesh alongside his many bruises. It seems other than her late mother, no one else has since cared for Seo-rae, loved her unconditionally. Until, she becomes a successful caretaker. The key to Hae-joon figuring out the first mystery was Seo-Rae’s Monday patient, a dementia woman who adored and trusted Seo-rae mainly because Seo-rae brilliantly executed the part of youthful, gentle caretaker. Who would ever suspect her of containing malicious or evil intentions? The spell Seo-rae had placed on Hae-joon seemed to be broken. A beautiful, naive, tragic figure could be capable of harm— of deceiving and killing elder women and putting his job in jeopardy— a smart, dignified cop.

Seo-rae enjoys the meal Hae-joon prepares her in a scene that earlier mirrors him cooking for his wife who too cherishes his culinary talents. DP: KIM Ji-yong/MUBI.

Decision to Leave is not as sexually explicit as other Park Chan-wook films. It almost appears rather tame. Instead, he finds other devices to create his signature eroticism. The uncharted lust practically spills from the seams moment upon moment that these two characters interact. When Hae-joon sniffs Seo-rae’s perfume, purchases expensive sushi for her to eat at the police station (which pisses off his erratic partner), prepares her a Chinese meal late at night, fights a man with sweaty hair and heavy panting as she witnesses him from her car, or rubs lotion onto her calloused hands during a rainy walk, he is showing an unprofessional interest. Things heat up further as Hae-joon unexpectedly undoes his belt— only to put on his holster as Seo-rae observes him. Once Seo-rae calmly breathes and recites sweet words to help him sleep in bed, that alone is a deeper intimacy than what holistic Ahn grants him. On top of everything— Hae-joon and Seo-rae keep staring at each other in that manner of no one else existing but the two of them. Eye connection is frequently a strong indication of attraction, of longing. A serious thing too, when considering how often Hae-joon drips solution in his tired eyes. 

Once Hae-joon— a man who constantly needs to be in the shoes of the dead— figures out Seo-rae is not the perfect victim, the crushing tide is brilliantly conducted. As a hurt, disillusioned Hae-joon decides that he can no longer associate with Seo-rae due to his damaged pride from her betrayal, Seo-rae’s genuine feelings grow deeper at this point. Yes, she has committed crimes to save herself from further misery and harm. How could he possibly understand what she— a foreigner in a new country still struggling to speak the language— was going through? Hae-joon foolishly believes it would be so simple for Seo-rae to just walk into his police station and tattle on a former immigration officer? Women are not always believed. 

After thirteen months apart, Hae-joon and Seo-rae meet again at the fish market in Ipo, their respective spouses by their sides. Despite the awkwardness, clipped dialogue, and silent communication, Hae-joon and Seo-rae’s desire for each other remains an undeniable cord drawing them in. The way their eyes connect or try not to, the way he suddenly smiles— it is all so wonderfully orchestrated, the perfect forbidden fate. In this pivotal, electric scene, Seo-rae— now a tour guide and no longer a caretaker/nurse— is already subtly giving Hae-joon clues to her next crime. 

The temptation is too great: Hae-joon remains stoic in Seo-rae’s presence. DP: KIM Ji-yong/MUBI.

At the second murder mystery, this time Hae-joon— who has been nursing depression from his incurable broken heart— will not let Seo-rae get away so easily. He tries a sterner approach with Seo-rae, determined to not let his feelings entangle. His inquisitive female partner, however, does not believe Seo-rae guilty of killing her second husband— a man threatening to tell Ahn of Hae-joon’s emotional affair. Seo-rae recorded Hae-joon’s “shattered” confession, words that signified his love for her, something that he does not argue or deny. Yet, Hae-joon’s determination in seeing justice done employs him to turn the tables on the inner workings of his great attachment to Seo-rae. When he cuffs their hands together and she strokes his fingers, he cannot reject her. It is eerily poignant that Seo-rae tells Hae-joon that she purposely cleaned the crime scene, thinking of his sensitivity to blood. 

Clever symbolism runs rampant throughout the film. The blue-green colors of water/sea continuously appears: the wallpaper in Seo-Rae’s home, fetanyl pills, evidential dress, bucket to bury the dead bird (which both Hae-joon and Seo-rae have taken feathers from), and the filtered light in Hae-joon’s bedroom as Seo-rae breathes alongside him. Then, there’s the sushi. In his first scene with Ahn, Hae-joon admits to loving cooking and not eating any old sushi. With Seo-rae, however, he orders sumptuously enticing sushi at their impromptu interrogation— Shima— which Seo-rae eats alone prior to her heartbreaking plan. In his fierce determination to treating her like a regular suspect, he orders generic food and she is notedly disappointed. Shoes are the next big beacon— Hae-joon wears the comfortable hiking variety for the more energetic paced cases in Busan— especially necessary for climbing steep mountains and chasing bad guys. In low-crime Ipo, he wears loafers. When Seo-rae is at his Busan home, she is donning house slippers, a signifier of the intimacy between them. In Ipo, she is wears heels and has her hair down as opposed to her earlier ponytails. Finally, chapstick and mints— typical precursors to kissing and kept in Hae-joon’s endless pockets— are found twice by Seo-rae. She knows his content pockets just as he remembers her phone password. She applies the balm on her lips and then his in the manner that echoes him applying lotion to her calloused hands. Their final face to face meeting has Seo-rae replacing his chapstick with her own lips, a purely poetic exchange that reads more like a bittersweet goodbye to possibility. So well done! 

At home in Ipo, Ahn— who believes Hae-joon not only is having an affair with Seo-rae, but also may have conspired to kill the second husband—leaves with June. Perhaps, in some fashion, June is the man Ahn has always wanted. In that instance, we have these four people who behave similarly to each other. Hae-joon and Seo-rae sometimes act as mirrors or polar opposites. Ahn and June are two peas-in-a-pod science nerds. However, only a few are courageous enough to confront the issue of moving towards the right destiny. Unfortunately, Seo-rae realizes that she must make the sacrificial choice not just freeing him, but herself as well. She is a criminal. He is a cop. So, the two most imperative women in Hae-joon’s life leave him. Ahn knows that he has been lying to her about Seo-rae and Seo-rae believes that she is a reminder of his lost pride in being a dignified policeman. 

Seo-rae and Hae-joon finally have it out in Ipo. While he is pragmatic in his choices, she is cryptic, confusing him completely. Is that because of the language barrier or another secret battle altogether? DP: KIM Ji-yong/MUBI.

Among the metaphorical repetitions and jarring parallels, the award-winning Decision to Leave (South Korea’s fitting choice for the Foreign Language Oscar for next year’s ceremony) is a wild, intimate ride from start to finish. Park Hae-il and Tang Wei’s charismatic performances are certainly the brilliant highlights of a mesmerizing, moralistic screenplay Chan-wook co-wrote with Jeong Seo-kyeong. KIM Ji-yong’s gorgeous cinematography— their first IMDb credit— just stays on your distraught mind long after the credits roll. The poignant music and sharp, gritty sounds too truly set the tone, lure your every sensory into this fascinating escapism.

Although the tragic conclusion breaks the heart to smithereens, the beautiful, dark Decision to Leave defines fierce yearning in its more sinful form, giving off a cautionary alarm to the predicaments a corrupted person can coax the innocent into if they’re not careful. Seo-rae bravely calls out the hypocrisy of the cop’s violent profession and the cop’s need for a stable home life with a docile partner instead of someone like her— a survivor only drawn to conducting violence for either those who wronged her or those suffering souls needing a way out. Seo-rae’s affect on Hae-joon alters him as much as he changes her, deepening a harrowing connection that cannot ever be given the necessary space needed to thrive. Hae-joon and Seo-rae are a pairing so vital, that it still hurts how they ended— as a guttural, unresolved case as cruel as the crushing deep sea. Ultimately, this ironic masterpiece of a film depicts two lonely people who found each other too late, whom under different circumstances may have been quite happy together. 

Deconstructing The Fairytale Myth: That ‘Happily Ever After’ Means No More Stories Can Be Told About a Couple

 

Recently, when asked about Kate and Anthony’s future and requests for a possible spinoff based on the Netflix streaming series, award-winning Bridgerton producer Shonda Rhimes said the following problematic statements:

“I don’t know what story could be told. The beauty of this show is that we get to tell a complete love story from beginning to end with a happy ever after every season. We don’t have to manufacture reasons why a couple can’t be together, we let them have their actual happy moment. And so, there are no spinoffs to be had because we’d have to find some way to break the couple up, and that feels very artificial..... maybe we could just watch them sit together.”

As previously stated in essays Part 1 and Part 2, the second season of Bridgerton focused on a lackluster triangle rather than the leads themselves— Anthony Bridgerton and Kathani Sharma-Bridgerton. That in itself was terribly bad manufacturing on their part. Thus, fans deserve a deeper continuation on their couple’s journey of love, a love that does not stop at an unseen wedding or an implied six month honeymoon. If these writers can devote extra time to the Featherington drama purposely cuts into the main reason for adapting The Viscount Who Loved Me, then spare moments for those that the protagonists lost. 

A lot of excitement exists for Bridgerton’s first returning couple and so much can be built from Anthony and Kate’s union. 

This notion that “happily ever after” ends where a story could potentially go is absolute nonsense. Rhimes, so accustomed to having her couples experience short lived happiness anyway, obviously requires more lessons in discussing all factors of romance. In her previously produced shows, she always makes it seem that there only two phases— the loving buildup and then surprise death/breakup. Although she doesn’t write on certain shows, especially Bridgerton, her trademark is branded throughout. She thrives on drama as explosive and destructive as it can be managed. Perhaps adapting Julia Quinn’s novels offers her own personal tropes a challenge. Except, it seems such limitations cannot allot her the ability to expand beyond her normal storyline approaches. 

In these interviews, Rhimes cringes at this lack of authority, not being able to permanently hurt these fictional characters. However, she can have them experience pain in multiple ways. We saw Kate’s brutal humiliation over and over: Anthony setting up that nasty trick with Thomas Dorset at the races, Edwina being fine with it, Kate being cruelly sidelined as Anthony proposed to Edwina right in front of her, Anthony repeatedly speaking of his lust for Kate which rightfully confused her, and Edwina rolling out of character to viciously maul Kate and Lady Mary (supposed loving mother of both daughters) not doing anything about it. Also some members in Anthony’s family had the tendency to be either overly harsh with him or make unfunny jokes at his dispense. 

Furthermore, the “maybe we could watch them sit together” is insulting. Most of Kate and Anthony’s love story comprised of nonverbal interactions. She knows this. The audience knows this. To say that you would rather create more quiet moments between them and not necessarily work on giving them any dialogue is a huge red flag— a sign of lazy, uninventive writing. It is not smart or wise to backburn a charming, charismatic pairing that has yet shown us all that they can be. 

In Quinn’s The Viscount Who Loved Me, the story truly begins after Kate and Anthony are married. Lots of juicy tidbits can be taken from there. Room can be made for finally divulging Kate’s childhood traumas, Anthony apologizing onscreen for hurting Kate the way he did (maybe a pseudo moment triggers Kate’s memory of Anthony’s proposal to Edwina), Kate’s first pregnancy encouraging Anthony’s heartbreaking flashbacks to his grieving mother’s agony, and etc. The possibilities beyond “just breaking them up” are endless. Heck, a spin off has the promise to center Kate and Anthony’s growth, vulnerability, grace, and humility together. Bridgerton is not an adaptation acquired by Disney. The characters still have internalized issues to deal with, to channel through. That doesn’t end because they’re wearing wedding rings. Or have lots of great sex. Already, many women of color see themselves in Kate, especially South Asian women who rarely have the opportunity to have this kind of beautiful brown woman media representation on a popular series. Imagine how even more thrilling it could be with her leading a whole series and incorporating her heritage further— which should have been properly conducted in season two. 

Jonathan Bailey and Simone Ashley are incredible, top tier actors that can render scripts into gold (even when the scripts are not that). They deserve the opportunity to showcase the internal workings of a marriage, all its complex nuances in addition to the intimate pleasures and joys. If these show runners and writers still refuse to give them any more depth worthy of their talents, they will come to regret it. After all, both have big projects set for the future. It would be nice if the series appreciated them as others strike an otherwise very hot iron. 

So please, get a clue, Shonda Rhimes & Co. You’re all becoming increasingly out of pocket and out of line. 

The Trigger Warning Dangers of Gaslighting Bleeding Into Reality

 

Kiki Layne has three pivotal scenes as the troubled Margaret in Don’t Worry Darling.

Well, the critics were certainly right to dismiss Olivia Wilde’s second feature Don’t Worry Darling. Now that behind-the-scenes antics are finally dying down, let us unpack this catastrophic mess of a storyline failing both feminism and womanism perspectives. For starters, the small part that Margaret provides in this cookie cutter Stepford wives fantasy parallels real-life situations vulnerable Black women have placed themselves in. The all-smiling cult set in the always suspectedly sunny Victory, California promises to be nonthreatening, but they only represent great harm.  

We hear about Margaret before even seeing her onscreen because the vintage styled housewives are complaining that she didn’t show up to mandatory yoga. If that doesn’t sound like modern day gentrification conversational BS.... 

Interestingly, Wilde plays Bunny, a harsh, shallow character (who also may be racist) painting Margaret as a borderline psychotic. Alice is the simpering “do not speak ill” on the former friend, but does little service in defending, let alone understanding poor Margaret’s disposition. The most important thing to Alice is Jack and only Jack, the first key punch to feminism. Alice is obsessed with making Jack’s meals and making sure his horniness is fulfilled by any means necessary. So, who cares if her neighbor is a little on the fritz when Jack centers Alice’s life? 

Alice then spies Margaret standing robotically still on her lawn, gazing at nothing. Yet, the woman does not even speak, let alone acknowledge her neighbor’s silent presence. If this isn’t an example of “white silence is white consent,” other events bring that statement to light. Alice continues carrying on, living her idyllic dream with her dull, secretive husband, including feeding his endless sexual appetite. 

At a posh party that includes the whole small population of Victory, Margaret interrupts Frank, the eccentric, seemingly omnipresent leader, with her first spoken lines being, “why are we here? We shouldn’t be here.” 

Margaret is immediately escorted away. Frank laughs it off. 

Margaret is forced to remain silent. 

Alice immediately goes to a dazed Margaret who repeats her earlier refrain that none of them belong there. And where is the “there” exactly? What is Victory? Does anyone care? Before anything else could be stated or even explained, the curtain closes on Margaret (obviously drugged) and Alice wanders away, finding her husband who draws her in with public sex to shut up any curious thoughts. Things get creepier as Frank catches them. 

According to Bunny, Margaret is unliked because she took her son to the desert— a big no no. Later, we learn that despite all the couples trying for children and Bunny herself having two of her own, that children are not real in this strange concept. Perhaps Bunny’s great disdain for Margaret has more to do with her going to the desert with her son and that son mysteriously disappearing rather than Margaret’s perceived mental state. Bunny seems content with the housewife role even though her children much prefer Alice over her. Margaret presents a threat to that— a certain rule breaking independence. Bunny makes it her business to castrate Margaret, influencing the other women to ostracize Margaret as well. Although it is saddening that Bunny has lost her children in the real world, her treatment of Margaret is an appalling reaction that maybe involves self-hatred. 

Still, Alice doesn’t entirely write Margaret off— though she doesn’t talk to the woman. After staying on the bus as opposed to shopping with the other ladies, Alice sees a plane crash, but the driver cannot go up the desert mountains to feed Alice’s temperament. Alice knows that the desert is against the rules. Look how they treat Margaret— no one even wants to associate with her. The mystery begins to crack a little until Alice awakes to find herself back at home. Soon, all Alice thinks about is the desert and she asks questions much to everyone including Jack’s dismay. Yet, when Margaret calls, cryptically saying that she knows what’s happening, Alice practically calls her nuts and hangs up. It is pretty cruel that Alice decides to treat Margaret how everyone else does. Alice sees what Margaret has been going through and is starting to receive the brunt of that particular experience. Instead of standing by Margaret’s side, Alice casually dismisses the horrifying situation— eerily similar to telling folks the realities of racism, sexism, ableism, etc., only to be criminally told “it’s all in your head.”  

Suddenly, during yoga, Alice turns into Margaret’s mind reader, staring helplessly as Margaret repeatedly bangs her head against the mirror. No one else in the studio sees Margaret. Only Alice sees Margaret’s distorted faces among the shattered fragments. Alice quickly leaves to witness Margaret slit her own throat from the roof of her perfect house. The scene itself is trauma inducing, but it is Alice’s later flashbacks that pierces the soul. Margaret deserved better— better than this terrible Victory concept, better than white women neighbors like Alice and Bunny. 

This disturbing scene foreshadows Margaret’s suicide that Alice (Florence Pugh) will witness. 

A devastated Alice is haunted over and over by Margaret’s death— a death of someone she claimed an old friend but did not treat as such. Despite Victory’s people claiming that Margaret is indeed “okay” and “feeling better,” we never see her onscreen alive again. Then, Alice keeps seeing Margaret’s fallen bloodied body— a disturbing, unsettling picture that does something to a psyche so accustomed to televised Black demise. It seems almost as though a sadistic pleasure comes out of this phenomenon, both in real life and fiction. Dead Margaret drives Alice to further action. Earlier, Alice allowed herself to be stilted, mainly by Bunny and Jack. Now with Margaret gone, detective Alice seeks to uncover the mysteries of Victory and Frank. Unfortunately, Jack knows more than he pretends to. When Alice expresses her findings to Bunny during Jack’s pseudo weird job promotion dinner, a freaked out Bunny tells the woman to be proud of her husband’s accomplishments. Talk about setting feminism back a few decades. 

At last, Alice realizes she is really an overworked doctor and that Jack is a depressed loser who signed them both up for Victory’s virtual reality without Alice’s consent. He felt neglected— always hungry and sex deprived. Wow. The vicious twist that Bunny has known the truth is also very detrimental. Instead of helping Margaret in any shape or form, Bunny chose to bash this Black woman every time her name is spoken. Bunny instilled major verbal abuse on Margaret (out of earshot of course because Margaret is severely lacking screen time) and encouraged others to do the same. Yet, the moment Bunny realizes Alice is in danger, she rushes forth to rescue her fellow white woman, her mirror self from the horror dystopian society. This speaks volumes about the brand of feminism this film reveals— that women of color are not to believed, gaslit into isolation, told that their fears are purely a result of psychological illness. Thus, Margaret still retained hope that her former friend could see the breaks in the false perfection structure. Alice, however, becomes a disappointing extension of Bunny, ignoring the warning signs that Margaret insists upon until it is far too late. Furthermore, a person who dies in Victory, dies in the real world too. So sadly, Margaret has died twice. Did she know that? Did she discover that Victory was a simulation, a false world? Was that what she found out in the desert? Did she even volunteer to be there or was that her barely seen husband Ted’s doing? Who is Margaret and where is her body? So many inquiries and not enough smart choices. 

Whether it be the alleged abuser Shia LaBeoff originally being cast to the noticeable tension between Academy Award nominated Florence Pugh against director Olivia Wilde or the false feminist values that the storyline is supposed to accomplish, future Razzie Awards winner Don’t Worry Darling was a mess during production to the end. Katie Silberman’s screenplay written alongside Carey and Shane Van Dyke is altogether messy and complex, introducing more riddles than answering questions. Yet, another crucial behind-the-scenes backfire is Affonso Gonçalves’s preposterous film editing. Although this is Wilde’s directional effort, Gonçalves must be partly blamed for Kiki Layne and Ari’el Statchel’s scenes being cut. Layne, with already lesser film credits and awards nominations than the rest of her cast mates, deserved this opportunity to broadcast her talents, especially among the nearly all-white crew. However, with the red flags planted on the Pugh and Wilde controversy and even her name included in top billing, it should be noted that Layne wasn’t at all an active participant in the press junkets. Despite whatever personal feelings Wilde has in regards to Pugh, the clear message is that Pugh’s Alice is who matters more, who is ultimately saved from this gawd awful wreckage. Thus, where is the true solidarity onscreen and off? The inclusivity of all women? None to be found. 

Letterboxd’s demi adejuyigbe summed it best on Don’t Worry Darling with, “standing outside the theater telling every white woman that leaves ‘so messed up. I would never do that to you.’

‘Code Switch,’ A Poignant Short Film Gazing on the Black Femme

 

Code Switch film poster. 

Code Switch, likely the shortest short film ever reviewed at a length of five minutes, does not make it any less significant than a full-length feature running past three hours. From beginning to end, the experimental portrait presents a singular Black body situated in safe, nonthreatening spaces— spaces that hold historical significant symbolisms/ties to Black culture. 

Code switch by definition linguistically means “altering two or more languages.” In workplace environments or locations lacking a true inclusivity, Blackness (mainly Ebonics, attitude, style, etc.) must often be smoothed over, toned down to appease the masses. Yet, in this particular short film, this term is used to illustrate an aspect of a person’s appearance and identity, finding the balance in the authenticity of their gender. 

Pick out at the barbershop. DP: Hany Osman, Yojin Yohe, and Joe Cozza. 

Inside of a busy barbershop, a non-binary figure receives a fresh trim to their illustrious low cut Afro aka a tapered TWA (teenie weenie afro). Others come and go with their evenly toned and hydrated flesh, widened smiles— a beautiful, engaging people. The camera pans on these individuals who pay the protagonist no mind. Each engaged in conversation after conversation against the cool background R&B track that plays as crisp as a vinyl record. This particular experience in the barber’s chair is a familiarity expanding towards he, she, and they. These grooming tools have no gender roles, no gender expectations despite what society claims to be true, to be normal. The protagonist belongs there among the strangers receiving their own washes and haircuts, a place that doesn’t ask who you are or where you’ve been, just usually “how would you like to be styled today?”  

The split duality of finding allegiance to both dominantly male barbershop culture and the beauty that Black women possess. DP: Hany Osman, Yojin Yohe, and Joe Cozza. 

Later, the protagonist— in a powder blue durag and matching shirt— gazes upon pictures in their white walled bedroom. Scattered magazine images of iconic women celebrities celebrate unambiguous Black beauty from Aretha Franklin to Maya Angelou, Missy Elliott, Kerry Washington, and Lauryn Hill, a period of the 1960’s-2000’s, something alarmingly outdated as the culture of now shifts towards lighter complexions and looser hair textures. Yet among these voguish faces are outspoken queer individuals such as Da Brat and Janelle Monae— probably the most current. This scene certainly presents another dynamic altogether, that of dualism: two separate entities existing in one body. The natural, organic being who appreciates the media representation of the glamorous makeover while simultaneously embracing their true identity, bravely stating that “yes, these are beautiful historical figures holding high standards, but this honestly will never be where I stand.” 

The ending grants the first spoken words that are not song lyrics— kind, gentle vocals from the unseen mother on the phone entailing a much needed acceptance into the ears of the silent figure whose warm, pleasing face and shorn hair has captivated us throughout this timeless piece.  

Nothing more idyllic than the capturing of smoke escaping nostrils and lips. DP: Hany Osman, Yojin Yohe, and Joe Cozza.

Although we still live in troubling, violent times where people refuse to understand and acknowledge that there are more than two genders, Code Switch opens up a fresh dialogue. A film told through a caring, thoughtful lens offers a gratifying story in three hundred, twenty-two seconds. It shows the beauty of a deserving existence. 

Writer/directors Mx. Roti and Davis Alexander James’s must see Code Switch, a winner of the Frameline Completion Grant, has shown at various film festivals across the country including the 46th Annual Frameline in San Francisco, the 40th Annual Outfest in Los Angeles, the 5th Annual Black Femme Supremacy Festival in Baltimore, and the 24th Roxbury International Film Festival in Boston. It will then show at the 17th Annual LGBT in Dayton, the 9th Alphabet Festival in Chicago, and the 22nd Annual Indianapolis LGBT Festival in Indianapolis. 

I Recommend You Watch The Tearjerker ‘Till’ With Kleenex And A Clear Head

 

Till film poster.

I remember walking into the Whitney Museum and purposely ignoring the Biennial’s Dana Schultz’s Open Casket on several visits. I remember social media muting white professors and former white classmates on their defensive views of why this controversial artwork deserved to be made, that anyone could use history as the basis of creativity. I remember seething with rage when the artist in question made the excuse that she painted this through the eyes of a mother. Yet, let us be perfectly clear that Schultz’s work does not have the same moral, let alone emotional and psychological impact as Mamie Till-Mobley’s historic decision to showcase what racist hatred performed in 1955. 

Till, Chinonye Chukwu’s beautifully riveting biopic, reveals just what a Black mother is forced to endure in a prejudiced America. This ordeal is unlike any other struggle for the average parent. It is our history— the history of loss from the times of Africans being sold to various countries including America to slavery auction blocks permanently separating families to violent killings post Civil War and beyond. Trauma unfortunately weaves into Black generational legacy and no amount of joy can change that fact. There is no rewriting history to make one feel comfortable. We were not meant to have that luxury, that feeling that you can choose to ignore a story as chilling as Mamie and Emmett Till’s. This drama film packs a heavy emotional punch, something more visceral and powerful than any painting hung in an elite gallery space. 

Emmett (Jalyn Hall) gives his mother Mamie (Danielle Deadwyler) his watch at the train station. After his murder, the ring on his finger would be the one identifying factor. DP: Bobby Bukowski.

It opens softly on Mamie Till driving with Emmett on the passenger side. Her eyes are watering, seeming elsewhere as though this whole sequence is a frozen, suspenseful dream. Perhaps she is a clairvoyant already knowing what will happen to her precious son soon. Their sweet camaraderie as mother and child evokes pleasant relationship vibes: protective, nurturing, and so much care. Sweet, affectionate Emmett has a minor speech impediment, but singing songs helps him smooth over his stuttering. Mamie looks on Emmett with elevated pride and happiness, reserving certain motherly glances for him alone. He too adores her immensely as though no other woman in the world could ever replace his compassionate, resilient, beautiful mother. Like Mamie, however, we all wish that Emmett would not be so excited to leave the love and safety nest Chicago, Illinois provides. A cruel fate awaits in Money, Mississippi. When they have their final moments at the train station, Mamie takes as much extra time as possible before Emmett departs. It becomes emotional devastation. The exchanged “I love you” and the crushing embrace between them sets up a heartbreaking foreshadowing. 

Down South, Emmett is introduced to backward conditioning. While racism exists in Chicago through other discrete tactics, Money blatantly displays segregation. From his family cotton picking in the field to the Bryant’s store mishap to the kidnapping— each sequence has key importance to the tragic consequences befallen to Emmett. Slavery may have ended nearly ninety years prior, but cotton remains a commodity and only certain folks are out in the hot sun plucking its worth. Naturally, Emmett finds no pleasure in the humiliating task, joking around to the annoyance of his serious cousins. In Money, Black boys are already seen as laborious adults, having little recess or game play until the day’s work is completed. At the Bryant’s store, presenting a stiff calm before the volatile storm, Emmett’s charm backfires tremendously, turning into a colossal fabrication by a white woman named Carolyn Bryant. One innocent act would later become the catalyst to his kidnapping and eventual murder.  

Emmett’s cousins hanging out in front of Bryant’s store. DP: Bobby Bukowski.

The next sequences are a trigger warning that will have your blood running cold. The very sensitive material is a reality stronger than any painting that unsuccessfully tries to depict a mother’s grief from a place that is not genuine, let alone realistic. Mamie Till’s grief is not a fodder vehicle, not a plot device for spectacle. It is beyond maternal instinct, beyond maternal despair. Her reactions to the kidnapping, the found body, the pine box arrival, and her son’s bloated, mutilated body are especially unsettling. The depth of her endless sorrow knows no amount of medicinal aide or therapeutic elements could ever relieve the vicious claw racism stole from her heart. Although the audience is spared witnessing Emmett’s perverse murder, hearing only his cries on a dark night, his body is shown in horrendously graphic detail, perfectly mirroring the nightmarish pictures in the Jet Magazine. Thus, there was keen commitment in orchestrating the truth of what Mamie saw and lived through— what she bravely showed the world. Also, while grieving, she must deal with the NAACP and their sexist dynamics and pleas that she uses her son’s death for political gain (that remains a campaign promise today until politicians get in office and forget about Black people). Even in the midst of experiencing great despair and shock, we are expected to work, to perform. 

On top of the mourning mother, Mamie decides to push the envelope further by going down to Money and testifying at the murder trial. However, this is a place where racism thrives and ugly white feminism is proudly steeped. In court, Mamie’s responses are tremulous, agonizing moments of vulnerability. The white men refuse to acknowledge her humanity, let alone Emmett’s. When Mamie says, “they’re killing him all over again,” the extent of her words could not be any clearer or wiser. Carolyn is allowed on the stand, lying up a storm, entertaining the men who idolize what she represents— their innocent, unblemished salvation/damsel/victim. Of course, Mamie leaves in the middle of this performative show, intuitively knowing which side the jury is on. 

Mamie (Danielle Deadwyler) and her mother Alma (Whoopi Goldberg). DP: Bobby Bukowski. 

Chukwu’s raw, gut-wrenching first feature Clemency also comes to mind, delivering the candid message that America remains undeniably separated. The law is a complex system, but not so complex that you cannot see that class discrepancies can keep the innocent behind bars and the guilty living their best lives among us. Anthony Woods, a contemporary Black man is found guilty and on death roll for a crime he did not commit. Yet, in Till, the white men who tortured and killed a Black boy are allowed a free existence to live a long life— a pattern still existing today. The murderers can be dirty cops or proclaimed neighborhood watch citizens, brandishing their powers, weaponizing their inferior positions. Rarely, will these real-life villains be subjected to imprisonment, much less having to beg for appeals and mercy like Anthony. In the eyes of the all-white male jury, they saw themselves dulling out the punishment— killing Emmett in order to “protect” Carolyn. That collective “not guilty” meant no crime was committed, it was justice served. 

With a commendable cast led by the visceral force of Danielle Deadwyler’s memorable performance as the icon that sparked a nation, Till is by far one of the most moving biopics ever seen about a Black woman— authentic in every single part of its crafted vision. Honestly, haven’t we had enough of biopics/race films helmed by mostly white men? Aren’t we ready for new, authentic visual experiences seen through a gentle, caring lens? It must be lauded that a commendable Black woman was involved in both Till’s story and direction, a story that never veers away from the heart of the matter— Mamie and Emmett. They are not weighed down by Martin Luther King Jr. (who is a constant fixture in almost every civil rights era drama). Co-written with Keith Beauchamp (mentored in real-life by Mamie Till-Mobley) and Michael Reilly, Chukwu’s incredibly powerful piece demonstrates a Black woman’s plight to honoring her son who deserved to live, who deserved justice in a country denying him that. In addition to Bobby Bukowski’s brilliant cinematography, Abel Korzeniowski’s music comes through scenes with meaningful intentions while others are purely silent, allowing us only the offering of an actor’s pivotal words and breaths. Marci Rodgers, the Black woman costume designer behind High Flying Bird, Passing and episodes of She’s Gotta Have It and Paper Girls, created flawless styles that truly set the tone— Mamie’s wardrobe going from bright yellows to pitch black by the end. 

Mamie Till-Mobley’s path to publicly advocating for her son reflects on our current climate— Samaria Rice, Sybrina Fulton, and other Black women mothers speaking on the injustice of their slain children. DP: Bobby Bukowski. 

My knowledge of Emmett Till started as a teenager watching the late Henry Hampton’s award-winning Eyes On the Prize and later appreciating Ava DuVernay’s August 28th short film which features two Black men working on Emmett’s pine casket box to be shipped from Money to Chicago. As Hannah Black, creator of the open letter to the Whitney Museum, told us, we do not need a white woman to broadcast Emmett Till from her tone-deaf platform. Schultz knows nothing of Black pain and struggle, can never begin to imagine what grieving Black mothers’ are experiencing. They are still hurting yesterday, tomorrow, right now. Better yet, generations later, we are still sequestered in the embittered aftermath that never fades away. Emmett Till never fades away. Thankfully, Till finally exists, allowing a broader chapter revealed from Mamie Till-Mobley’s anguished perspective. She is the reason we know her son. That’s why we must elevate them both. One heartbeat cannot pound hard without the other. 

Never Felt This Way Before: Ode To ‘Queen Sugar’s Nova And Chantal

 

Chantal and Nova had a casual relationship during Queen Sugar’s first season. 

As Queen Sugar begins its seventh and final season next week, writer/activist Nova Bordelon and BLM activist Chantal Williams’s short lived romance deserves a revisit. 

Chantal (Reagan Gomez-Preston) and Nova (Rutina Wesley) are guest speakers at a radio show that ends poorly in As Promised written by Melissa Carter and directed by Tanya Hamilton. DP: Antonio Calvache.

They exchange words... DP: Antonio Calvache.

....and Chantal places her number into Nova’s phone. DP: Antonio Calvache.

In season one, episode six’s aptly titled, As Promised, Nova and Chantal meet on a radio show that seems a manufacturing of The Breakfast Club— a false community vibe that gets its kicks on Shade Room gossip. Nova and Chantal want to talk about their work, especially in regards to the tragic case of Too Sweet. Yet the raunchy male hosts focus on Nova’s sister— the famous basketball wife, Charley Bordelon West. Even the callers request only information on the titillating details, not much on the prison reform and bail aide that Nova wants to address. Afterwards, Chantal apologizes to Nova and flirtatiously places her number in Nova’s phone. They bond over Chantal’s Hindu necklace which represents Ganesh, the goddess of obstacles. Thus, this potentially symbolizes a short-lived pairing that definitely had a more intense, soft, tender chemistry as opposed to Nova’s other longer term lovers. 

From community activists to lovers, Nova and Chantal’s passion sets the screen on fire in the seventh episode, In No Uncertain Terms written by Denise Harkavy and directed by Neema Barnette. DP: Antonio Calvache.

Nova softly releases her emotional burdens on Chantal. DP: Antonio Calvache.

In No Uncertain Terms shows Nova and Chantal hooking up. Chantal tries sneaking off to leave— perhaps believing that they are a typical one night stand. Nova invites her to stay for breakfast— a positive sign of turning an overnight stay into an invitation to her world. The moment is riddled in stolen kisses and pensive stares with a vulnerable Nova admitting that she has never felt so free before. The difference between this new, refreshing relationship, versus Nova’s previous entanglement with the married white cop Calvin is that with Chantal there exists no residual shame, no inner turmoil between Nova’s “Black love is sacred” politics and her heart, and that poignant kind of blissful intimacy that can only be manifested with another woman. 

Nova and Chantal enjoy herbs in Nova’s garden. DP: Antonio Calvache.

Herbs of all kinds. DP: Antonio Calvache.

In the middle of Nova’s wondrous joy, however, is facing the consequences of stealing a hefty sum from the family farm account without permission. Hurricane Charley bursts on Nova’s property to blast her. The moment Charley sees Chantal, her anger increases. Charley calls Nova trifling. The rift between the sisters has been steadily drifting and drifting. Nova’s face appears hurt by Charley’s words, believing that her romance with Chantal disgusts Charley. In the next episode, Charley claims it is Nova smoking weed and having an affair (which she did not find out until the end of In No Uncertain Terms) that she finds problematic. 

Later, Nova and Chantal attend an artist interview in the artist’s studio. Chantal and Micah have one on one time looking at large scale representational paintings of stolen Black lives. While Charley scolds Nova’s lifestyle, her son is accepting and kind. It is quite beautiful that Nova introduces Chantal to Micah and leaves them to get along as she conducts her work. 

Where With All, speaking of hurricanes, the eighth episode has Chantal playing the passenger on Nova’s supportive ride for a fellow ninth ward citizen during a tropical storm. They’re obviously growing closer; their activism for the community tying them together, encouraging a deeper bond. An old lady in the backseat offers both solemn thoughts and unexpected humor. Overall, Nova and Chantal temporarily become the buddy comedy relief through a horrific storm that the poor city does not need. After all, Katrina was an environmental violence that still has repercussions to this day. 

Unfortunately, part of Chantal being the rider, is monitoring the driver’s phone. Aunt Vi is not the only repeated caller. Chantal sees Calvin pop up numerous times. Nova immediately tells her not to answer. Although Chantal asks no questions, her eyes do. Why be so defensive about this man? What’s the big secret? 

As the women hear that the storm is shifting to a second level category, Chantal invites Nova to stay with her. Nova declines, getting the wrong idea that Chantal wants her to move in. These two situations— Calvin and the moving in (which yes, is too soon)— are generating red flags. If returning to that moment when Chantal tries to sneak off in the morning of the previous episode and Nova saying that Chantal frees her, then it is understood that Chantal feels that something more is blossoming between them. In the car, they appear to be backtracking, especially Nova with her mixed signals. Chantal is trying to shelter Nova from the storm, but Nova immediately sets more boundaries, saying that she’s not that kind of person. She needs her space. And that should be okay. 

Chantal and Nova have breakfast again in So Far written by Anthony Sparks and directed by Salli Richardson-Whitfield. DP: Antonio Calvache.

Nova has Chantal try her skillet meal— changing the topic from the article Chantal is obsessing over. DP: Antonio Calvache.

So Far, the tenth episode, Nova and Chantal appear to be relaxed and well— another breakfast conversation, more love in the morning, lounging about in sleepwear. Chantal then makes a huge fuss over Nova’s upcoming conversation with Melissa Ford-Perry. A humble Nova is uncomfortable by this attention and tries to distract Chantal with food. Things come crashing down after Chantal invites her BLM group to Nova’s house to give Nova talking point ideas. Chantal and Nova have a huge argument. It is obvious that they are at different levels in their lives— Chantal the huge fan girl wanting to build on Nova’s successful platform and Nova guarding/keeping her writing/activist life separate from her relationship. 

When Chantal invites her group over to help Nova (after it has already been established that Nova prefers to work alone), Nova is visibly upset. DP: Antonio Calvache.

Chantal is hurt by Nova’s refusal. DP: Antonio Calvache.

Nova must always have it done in her own way. Writing is often a solitary practice. DP: Antonio Calvache.

Later, Chantal breaks up with Nova for several reasons— their politics are not aligning, Chantal interferes with Nova’s solitary practice, and Chantal discovers that Calvin is a white cop. It feels very rushed and insincere. They are not even fighting to stay together— Chantal is especially not listening to reason. Maybe Chantal cannot handle Nova’s boundaries. Then again, Chantal admits to looking through Nova’s drawers and finding pictures of Calvin. So that represents a trust issue. 

Nova admits to liking both Chantal and Calvin’s looks. That’s not enough for Chantal to stay. DP: Antonio Calvache.

Even though Nova and Chantal ended things, Chantal popped up in two more episodes throughout Queen Sugar’s run, showcasing that Chantal and Nova still had that community connection. In Yet Do I Marvel, season two, episode nine, Nova’s article on the Zika virus scares the whole of St. Joseph Parish. Chantal (who is now on the health community board) informs Nova that her words have petrified people. Interesting enough, Nova's boyfriend Dr. Robert’s ideas have somehow manifested into Nova’s work. Once upon a time, Nova declined Chantal’s aide. Also while Nova treasured Chantal’s Ganesh necklace, let’s not forget the ugly jewelry Dr. Robert gifted Nova— something that was not her. Like this relationship. Perhaps Chantal knew that too. 

In Yet Do I Marvel written by Jason Wilborn and directed by Julie Dash, Nova’s article on the Zika virus is not the only thing pissing off Chantal— though that is more seen in her body language at Dr. Robert. DP: Antonio Calvache.

Nova and Dr. Robert seemingly team up against Chantal’s stern attitude. DP: Antonio Calvache. 

In season four, episode four’s Skin Transparent, Nova’s Blessing and Bone book has painful repercussions. Almost her whole family does not show up to her book reading before her book tour. Only Micah, her beloved nephew. But guess who else proudly shows up to support her? 

Chantal Williams. 

It would have been even sweeter if Chantal reunited with Micah in the empty front seats reserved for family, but not everything is meant to be. Chantal’s beaming smile in a crowd of strangers is a most welcoming sight from the major blowback Nova experiences. 

In Skin Transparent written by Valerie Woods and directed by Numa Perrier, Nova reads a surprising excerpt from her Blessing and Blood memoir. DP: Antonio Calvache. 

Chantal is a vision in pink, very proud. DP: Antonio Calvache. 

Chantal brings a genuine smile on Nova’s face. DP: Antonio Calvache.  

Chantal holds Nova’s hand and asks her if she’s seeing anyone. Always a flirt. DP: Antonio Calvache. 

Queen Sugar certainly did not grant Nova and Chantal the time, space, and care to mature as a couple much less paint a full character analysis for Chantal. Nothing else is further detailed in Nova’s ex-girlfriend other than her communal activism. The show has a growing ensemble with many stories that intersect together in less than an hour. Yet the audience knows more about Calvin and Nova’s other boyfriends than Chantal herself. Another glaring problem is that queer couples, especially bisexual queer couples, always seem to veer back to heteronormativity. In Nova’s case, she returns to Calvin repeatedly, then Dr. Robert DuBois, and in between (like that strange Remy situation). Her queer relationships are flighty noncommittal flings that deserve much deeper depth. For example, Dr. Octavia Laurent, Nova’s former professor and lover is introduced during Nova’s book tour— after Nova previously dismisses Chantal’s request for emotional intimacy. There has definitely been missteps to Nova’s development over the years and her queerness is one. 

Nova calls Chantal over. DP: Antonio Calvache.

Chantal— currently utilizing self-care therapy— prefers that Nova come to her place and talk about her family issues. DP: Antonio Calvache. 

Queen Sugar’s final season returns on Tuesday, September 6th. Maybe Chantal will return again or maybe not. Either way, it was fond enjoyment remembering Chantal and Nova’s sweet potential together.