3.5 stars. Rated TV-MA, for profanity and mild sexual candor
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 4.3.20
Sensitive, respectful children never want to disappoint their parents.
The guilt can be deeply distressing.
 |
| Elijah (Mamoudou Athie, left) can't find the words to tell his father (Courtney B. Vance) that he has no interest in taking over the family's barbecue restaurant business. |
But a crunch point hits when a recently minted adult child embraces a career path completely at odds with what a parent has assumed, planned and counted upon.
Uncorked — a Netflix original — is a modest but engaging feature film debut by writer/director Prentice Penny, best known (until now) for writing and producing a popular string of TV comedies such as Scrubs, Brooklyn Nine-Nine and Insecure. This heartfelt little drama therefore is something of a departure, because — allowing for a for a few droll exchanges — Uncorked is mostly serious.
It’ll also feel very familiar to anybody who survived a similarly uncomfortable experience regarding parental expectations.
Elijah (Mamoudou Athie) has grown up helping his folks — Louis and Sylvia (Courtney B. Vance and Niecy Nash) — run the popular Memphis barbecue joint that was founded by the young man’s grandfather, and has been passed down since then. Although Louis has tolerated his son’s previous career flirtations, there’s no question that — eventually — Elijah is expected to carry on the family tradition.
Unfortunately, Elijah’s current fixation looks to be The One … and it has nothing to do with purchasing just the right wood to properly smoke ribs. Thanks to supplementing his income with a part-time job at a liquor store that specializes in wines, and the encouragement of its owner (Matthew Glave, nicely understated), Elijah has decided to become a master sommelier: an elite designation granted solely to the few able to pass its notoriously difficult annual exam.
Preparing for that challenge will require months of extremely intense — and time-consuming — study.
Louis isn’t the only one whose eyebrows lift, when Elijah confesses this desire during one of his family’s typically boisterous dinners; mishearing “sommelier” as Somalia, half the table wants to know why the heck he’d want to move to Africa.
And it isn’t merely the initial snickers of family members. We’ve already witnessed another, subtler hurdle, when Elijah joined a posh afternoon wine tasting … and its veritable sea of white faces. Penny (to his credit) never stresses this point, and Athie’s performance gives us no indication that Elijah views this as an obstacle; even so, we have to believe that it leaves the young man feeling somewhat isolated.
Vance — such a marvelously subtle actor — grants Louis considerable complexity. He never loses his temper, never says “no” outright. But his gaze radiates disapproval and disappointment, both clearly recognized by his son; Louis also indulges in quiet passive/aggressive dismissal.
Athie limns Elijah with a similar wealth of emotions. The young man has an endearing near-stutter, many of his responses beginning with uhs and ums. We perceive his shame, perhaps even a sense of betrayal, when his father’s silent displeasure lands like repeated body-blows. But Elijah also has achieved a level of maturity that prompts more confidence in his ability to speak for himself; the resulting emotional struggle plays out via Athie’s stance, bearing, tics and twitches.
We ache for both of these men, neither of them being unreasonable.
Nash’s Sylvia is a much broader performance: an unapologetically direct force of nature who’s a droll contrast to her taciturn husband. Their shared dynamic is a hoot, with Nash getting the lion’s share of this script’s tart-tongued one-liners. Unlike Louis, Sylvia wholly supports her son’s unlikely desire, acknowledging that he should — must — follow his bliss.
Elijah also has the full support of new girlfriend Tanya (Sasha Compère), a feisty medical receptionist; they “meet cute” early on, when she stumbles into the liquor store where Elijah works, and he steers her toward a specific wine by comparing vintages to rap stars (a delightfully clever sequence).
Once enrolled in classes, Elijah becomes part of a study group that includes Harvard (Matt McGorry), Richie (Gil Ozeri) and Leann (Meera Rohit Kumbhani). McGorry’s Harvard is cocky and self-assured, with a well-honed palate; Ozeri’s Richie is the epitome of insecurity and hapless indecision (not quite a caricature, but bordering on it). Leann derives mild amusement from winding the others up.
But this is in comradely fun; they all have each other’s backs. (And boy, that’s nice to see; lesser writers would have tossed in superfluous conflict and tiresome sniping.)
This bond becomes even more important when their class is invited on an exchange trip to Paris: an extravagance way beyond Elijah’s humble budget. The resolution of this “crisis” leads to another of the film’s many heartwarming sequences.
Penny has an unerring ear for such family dynamics, as well he should; he knows the territory. He similarly grew up as the third-generation son of a furniture store owner who inherited the business from his father, and expected the line to continue. Insisting instead on something as intangible — and financially perilous — as Hollywood screenwriting must have come as quite a shock.
But as all writers have learned, since the dawn of time, such “shocks” provide great story material.
Although not quite the lavish ode to food and wine that we experienced with, say, 1994’s Eat Drink Man Woman and 2004’s Sideways, Penny doesn’t stint on mouth-watering or palate-pleasing tableaus. We spend considerable time in Louis’ kitchen, watching rack upon rack of savory ribs being prepared and sliced; it feels authentic, in part because all of the background actors are actual restaurant workers from Memphis’ finest barbecue joints.
Wine consultant Ryan Radish guaranteed a similarly loving — and accurate — approach to wine lore, terminology and tasting rituals.
You’ll likely exit this film trying to figure out how to pair a fine wine with some sumptuously smoked barbecue (and good luck with that).
I do wish Penny and music supervisor Kier Lehman hadn’t applied their soundtrack’s frequently profane rap and hip-hop songs with such a heavy hand. Granted, it’s a ubiquitous part of Elijah’s world and the Memphis youth culture, and (for example) well placed during Elijah and Tanya’s early date at a roller skating rink. At other times, though, a given song’s relentlessly vulgar lyrics are wholly at odds with the story’s viticultural refinement and gentle interpersonal dynamics.
That aside, Uncorked builds to a just-right conclusion, and we never fail to appreciate and enjoy the performances Penny draws from his stars
No comments:
Post a Comment