What Violence Begets

Queen and Slim a film by Melina Matsoukas.  With Daniel Kaluuya, Jodie Turner-Smith, Bokeem Woodbine.  Written by Lena Waithe  *****

This is a stupendous movie, another absolute must see, by a group of people I hadn’t encountered before (which may be a failing on my part).  The acting, directing, and cinematography are all marvelous, but the best thing about this movie is the screenplay.  I was stunned by it all the way through.

I heard somewhere or other that this was supposed to be the story of a black Bonnie and Clyde, a character even says something to that effect in the movie, but Bonnie and Clyde chose a life of crime, while these two characters stumbled into it inadvertently.  I see the comparison, but don’t think it’s terribly fruitful.  The fact of race makes this story completely different.

I actually think this is a better movie than Bonnie and Clyde, which I loved.

Queen and Slim—two names that are never spoken in the movie[1]—are an African American couple in Cleveland on a first date, arranged on Tinder, when they are pulled over by a white cop.   That is obviously a loaded moment for any movie, and if it had been done wrong the whole project would have unraveled right there, but I didn’t find the cop’s bullying at all unbelievable.  I’ve heard cops talk that way.  Slim (Daniel Kaluuya) handles the situation well, but Queen (Jodie Turner-Smith) is an attorney who had lost a case that day, and she has an attitude (as attorneys sometimes do during traffic stops, I’ve been told).  The worst possible outcome takes place, and these two innocent people are suddenly on the lam.  The cop had called in their license number.  A nationwide manhunt begins.

But they seem to enter into a strange netherworld where they aren’t caught.  I never thought the situation was unbelievable, but they have charmed lives.  Slim wants to seek out his family, which would have been crazy; Queen has an uncle in New Orleans whom she thinks might help.  Wherever they go, they gravitate toward the poor African American neighborhoods, where they have become folk heroes; the video of the altercation with the cop has been released, and it’s obvious they weren’t at fault.  They’re taken as representatives of their race who stood up to authority.  They’re heroes.

They hop from vehicle to vehicle, and on their way encounter a variety of people, a sympathetic white sheriff in Kentucky (who would nevertheless have arrested them if he’d had a chance), a black kid and his father outside a mini mart, a black auto mechanic who doesn’t agree with what they’ve done,  a white guy and his grouchy wife who have decided to help (though the wife doesn’t seem sure).  Their most interesting stop was at the home of Queen’s Uncle Earl (Bokeem Woodbine), who turns out to be a pimp in New Orleans, surrounded by women who work for them.  He has an iffy, touchy relationship with his niece, is not inclined to help but she reminds him pointedly, “You owe me.”  What is remarkable is the way that one person after another is helpful, the African American community comes together to help their own no matter what the circumstances.  Uncle Earl is not a perfect man, or a role model.  But he comes through for his niece.

There’s a feeling throughout the movie that, though they’re trying to get away, they somehow suspect they won’t; we know how Bonnie and Clyde wound up and they do too.  There are any number of significant pauses where they do crazy things, lean out the car window while they’re driving along a waterway, pull over to the side of the road to make love (for the first time!  And it wasn’t a quickie).  My favorite scene in that regard was when they stopped at a juke joint to hear live music and the musician turned out to be Little Freddie King (whom I hadn’t heard before, but I will again).  The scene of dancing in that juke joint, of camaraderie, of people taking care of each other and having a good time, was like an island in the midst of chaos, sexier even than the scene where they made love.  If the cops had burst in right there and killed them both, it still would have been worth it.  For me it was the best single scene in the movie.

I’m sure this isn’t a perfect movie, but I can’t think of anything I’d change.  There are so many ways it could have gone wrong, by playing the race card too heavily, making no white people sympathetic, making the cops unbelievably savage or stupid.  The screenwriter and everyone involved walk a tightrope the whole time, but never stumble.  If the altercation at the beginning and the scene at the end are painful and hard to take, what happens in between is idyllic and heartening, a bunch of ordinary people helping one another in the face of a system that’s stacked against them.  They’re not saints or sinners, just ordinary folk.  That’s why it’s so compelling.

At the multiplex where I saw this movie, it was in one of the small theaters, and was sparsely attended.  I can understand why people would rather see A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood or Frozen 2, but Queen and Slim is the movie of this moment.  It has commercial underpinnings but is a work of art.  I’m full of admiration.

[1] Leaving us to decide what they might mean.  Queen does indeed have a regal bearing; she seems aptly named.  Slim is not especially slim, but he’s an avid—and rather noisy—eater.  I assume his nickname is ironic.