Genre labels for books, films and the like are useful; if you're parting with hard-earned money then you need to have some idea of what you're going to get in exchange. But they can also be problematic, and can easily become a coded system for judging and separating 'high' art from 'low' or 'popular' art. Witness the idea of literary fiction in books - the implication being that it's not something crassly popular like horror or a thriller. God forbid anything people enjoy be good.
But how do you classify a film like this, which is itself at least about how we classify art? Forgive me if that's a bit meta, but that's in keeping with the film itself. Jeffrey Wright is an author who has grown cynical and jaded about the way a largely white literary elite profits from Black entertainment, and he writes a novel under a pen name that unwittingly puts him right in the cross-hairs of what he despises. It's a film that takes on, and skewers, white liberal racism in the way that Get Out does; not as a horror movie, but as an indictment of what so many people like me (and like I do, probably) look for and celebrate without any understanding or experience. British people of my vintage will think of Pulp's 'Common People' as a musical analogue.
When a film is this layered and meta-textual, you find yourself wary of having a take on it in case you inadvertently fall into one of the traps its laughing at; but that's the point, of course. The script is very, very funny; the comedy played to perfection and perhaps only some of the family drama subplots not quite striking the right note. The performances are wonderful, led by Jeffrey Wright - but special mention should also go to Tracee Eliss Ross as the central character's sister, and Erika Alexander as the neighbour he strikes up a relationship with.
Justly praised, this will inevitably make you laugh and think, and no doubt you'll be second guessing your takes on the issues it raises for weeks after.
But how do you classify a film like this, which is itself at least about how we classify art? Forgive me if that's a bit meta, but that's in keeping with the film itself. Jeffrey Wright is an author who has grown cynical and jaded about the way a largely white literary elite profits from Black entertainment, and he writes a novel under a pen name that unwittingly puts him right in the cross-hairs of what he despises. It's a film that takes on, and skewers, white liberal racism in the way that Get Out does; not as a horror movie, but as an indictment of what so many people like me (and like I do, probably) look for and celebrate without any understanding or experience. British people of my vintage will think of Pulp's 'Common People' as a musical analogue.
When a film is this layered and meta-textual, you find yourself wary of having a take on it in case you inadvertently fall into one of the traps its laughing at; but that's the point, of course. The script is very, very funny; the comedy played to perfection and perhaps only some of the family drama subplots not quite striking the right note. The performances are wonderful, led by Jeffrey Wright - but special mention should also go to Tracee Eliss Ross as the central character's sister, and Erika Alexander as the neighbour he strikes up a relationship with.
Justly praised, this will inevitably make you laugh and think, and no doubt you'll be second guessing your takes on the issues it raises for weeks after.
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