Brief thoughts on If Beale Street Could Talk.

Beale Street is a historic district in New Orleans, Louisiana, an early birth place of Jazz and Blues, where figures like Louis Armstrong have come and gone. But Beale Street, as transcribed by author James Baldwin, is more than its name. Beale Street is a feeling, a sensation unifying the African-American experience, and the commond ground, love, and heritage the people share. It's an abstract concept, but intentionally so, in which Baldwin encourages the reader to find his or her own meaning to the text. And in media form, we have Moonlight director Barry Jenkins bringing to life his meaning to it, finding the sensitive heart and beauty of If Beale Street Could Talk, creating an intimate, but fully engrossing saga of love and struggle

When first we meet our film's protagonists (in New York rather than Louisiana), Kiki Layne's Tish and Stephen James' Fonny, we see them at the culmination of their lifelong friendship. In their blossomming adulthood, they've grown closer and taken the next step, forging a romantic partnership and moving in together. They're a young couple, naive and still in the process of discovering themselves, but underneath that beats a genuine heart and passion, and the willingness to take on the world around them as the hits come. And it's with them that the film establishes its immediate heart, as we follow them from the earliest bloom of romance, to the aftermath of tragic circumstance.

Fonny has been accused of a crime he didn't commit, having been wrongly punished for it by the corrupt and racist law enforcement of the 70's timeframe the film is set, with the families of both lovers fighting tooth and nail to see his release. As if that wasn't enough, Tish soon reveals that she's pregnant with Fonny's child, only adding fuel to the quest to free him, even though the likelihood of that outcome feels almost impossible.

And so much of that heart from the two star-crossed lovers is what fuels the soul of If Beale Street Could Talk, even when the two are separated, as we experience with every footstep the hardship of their journeys. This is mainly a tale of innocence lost, as the young ones come into the world blissfully unaware and clueless to its true cruelties, and soon become forced to adapt and grow up with the harsh hands they've been dealt. But the one thing carrying them through remains their love for each other, and their belief in the best in the world, even if the best may be smothered by hatred. They're anchored by tremendous starring turns from Layne and James, who share such a beautiful chemistry and passion with each other, and inhabiting the shoes of their wayward young souls perfectly, while also allowing us to share seamlessly with the heart break of their journey.

But there's more on the film's mind than romance. True to Baldwin's intentionally abstract preamble, Jenkins does well to emulate the ethereal and esoteric unity that Beale Street's bond implies. Beale Street may be an ideal of people, but it's also one that carries incredible and resonant emotional weight. While Beale Street's ideal may tell of love and unity, it's also seen its fair share of hatred and prejudice, as the experiences of the past find themselves carrying over to today, for better and for worse, especially in regards to those in authoritative positions misusing and abusing their power, and hatred, that even with no real base or cause, clouding the judgment of those who've been wronged. That latter proves especially poignant, and tricky, in regards to the cause of Fonny's imprisonment, a sexual assault on a woman who may have accused him with no probable evidence, and yet the film wisely knows not to play a victim blame game.

But even so, that unifying love still proves to be the film's most undying feeling. Even as cruelty comes to beat Fonny down, and his family have scorned Tish as a harlot for conceiving a baby out of wedlock, that love still grows and never gets lost. It may take odd or unusual forms, but can still be found to those aware of it. And while staying true to Baldwin's intentional vagueness, it serves as a nice meditation on love being what we make of it, of taking comfort in it through perhaps the most unexpected of places, no matter how painful the journey may be.

But while it's a thoughtful approach, I found myself wishing for Jenkins to streamline it more. Beale Street is an intentionally wandering and meditative film, but does so while sacrificing its momentum. Moonlight may have also been a broadly played and abstract film, but Beale Street is less focused on its central lovers when compared to Chiron's journey to adulthood, finding itself wandering into outside distractions and deviations that bring the film to a crawl. The mileage varies depending on which characters of the incredible ensemble cast have the film's attention, including charactor actor of the year Brian Tyree Henry in a fantastic one scene wonder, and especially for Regina King as Tish's heartfelt, uncondtionally loving mother who fights alongside her, and has her own standout section of the film to shine. Otherwise, I feel the film loses something when separated from the couple.

But that beating heart behind Beale Street is still too powerful to resist, at once an intimate and timeless fable, while also becoming a sweeping and poignant love story. It's a timely, and richly rewarding film to those patient viewers, and even if Baldwin's original story was intended to represent the hardships of black citizens of the country, like Jenkins' Moonlight, there's still such a universal appeal to his latest, its soulful story able to touch and carry over to a greater audience. If Beale Street Could Talk may have been a slight step down, but still serves as a phenomenal showcase of Jenkin's directing prowess.


****1/2 / *****