3.5 Racially-charged-schools out of 4
What does it mean to be black in America? I honestly couldn’t say, because I’m neither black nor American, but Dear White People director and writer Justin Simien suggests that it has a lot to do with being improperly labelled. Labels are at the core of Simien’s first film, and labels form the backbone for each character’s internal and external conflicts. In fact, the way that Simien labels his characters alone is enough to provide a compelling thesis on race in America. He gives us the half-white half-black crusader, the wannabe BET star, the unbecoming white guy trying to cause a stir, the good-looking, intelligent political science student under his father’s thumb, and the black and gay guy just trying to fit in. Simien’s characters are counter-culture stereotypes struggling to come to terms with their identity, while simultaneously attempting to subvert and upend a system seemingly designed to keep them in their place.
At the core of Simien’s conflict is a single, unanswered question of identity: are we the people we want to be, or the people we think we should be? Do we define society, or are we defined by our perceptions of society? Ironically, the film is so well-shot, so well-acted, so beautifully directed that it can be difficult to focus on the story’s main conflict. This is a film that deserves repeated viewings, if only so its audience can focus on one character at a time.
Simien’s story is seemingly driven by the actions of Samantha White, a half-white, half-black communications student who runs for student government on the premise of “Bringing black back.” White’s musings and opinions – her entire manifesto – is centred on the belief that oppression is rampant and wildly aggressive. That she reacts wildly and aggressively is no small symbol of her position in the game of race.
Make no mistake, race relations is a game – a centuries-old battle between loud and louder that is best played by the older generations. Simien’s story addresses the race game by slamming a sledgehammer on the nose of subtlety; the two characters who comment on most of the film’s conflict are the two old men – one black and one white – who serve as the Dean and President of the legendary university that the main characters attend. That the white President and black Dean are embroiled in a decades-long battle of equality and power is an indication of Simien’s cinematic scope.
This is a problem that transcends age, history, and legacy, Simien seems to argue. This is a problem that will exist for as long as we insist on honouring the legacy of generations past. Of course, it goes without saying that my reading of Simien’s film will conflict with the interpretations of those truly caught between the firm boot of oppression and inequality. This is an American film through-and-through; the story will resonate with American audiences – black, white, Asian, Latino, or otherwise.
What, then, of the film’s production? Simien’s camera is audacious, subversive, and creative. He insists on capturing shots from angles and perspectives that most filmmakers would deem unnecessarily risky. Not content with merely capturing his comedy-drama, Simien uses his camera to tell a story instead of recording one. He pans, he tracks, he zooms, and he cuts with terrifying efficiency, and Dear White People is a cinematic delight specifically because of Simien’s insistence on subverting the “logical” shot. With help from Topher Osborn’s cinematography, scenes spring to life, and the manner in which the film’s lighting captures skin tone is almost accusatory.
This is a movie with black, white, Latino, and Asian faces; this is a movie about the struggles of the oppressed minorities fighting to have their voices heard in an unfair America. Osborn’s cinematography clumps people into two groups: white and non-white. The Earthy tones that permeate throughout each of Simien’s scenes make it incredibly easy to isolate white faces, but more difficult to identify minority faces. At one point, a non-black minority character jokes that she only attends Black Student Union meetings because the BSU has tastier snacks. Suddenly, I realized that I was completely content with seeing an Asian student hang out with black people, but I was less inclined to accept the notion of a white student spending time in the university’s historically all-black dormitories.
Racism is a harrowing issue, and Simien’s direction and writing makes its audience question its own casually racist tendencies. What’s worse, the message or the messenger?