A Journal for Jordan: A heartwarming read

A Journal for Jordan (2021) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five). Rated PG-13, for sexual candor, partial nudity, drug use and mild profanity

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang

Messing with a Pulitzer Prize-winner’s memoir requires considerable chutzpah, as I’m sure director Denzel Washington and screenwriter Virgil Williams must’ve been well aware.

 

It takes quite awhile, But Dana (Chanté Adams) finally persuades Charles
(Michael B. Jordan) to visit her in New York ... at which point, what could be more
romantic than a walk in the park?

Nor is A Journal for Jordan a run-of-the-mill memoir; it’s the deeply moving saga of two wildly dissimilar people who — almost reluctantly — stumbled their way into one of The Great Love Affairs Of All Time, and of the touching legacy that a father left his infant son.

Heavy stuff.

 

To their credit, Washington and Williams have nobly honored the source material, while delivering a heartfelt romantic drama that — inescapably — builds to a tear-jerking conclusion.

 

It’s not spoiling anything to reveal that, as this film begins, First Sgt. Charles Monroe King (Michael B. Jordan) is dead; that much is blindingly obvious from our introduction to New York Times journalist Dana Canedy (Chanté Adams), at lowest possible ebb. It’s 2007, and she’s utterly unable to channel or process her grief; she’s prickly at work, irritated by the concern of longtime friends, and hanging on solely because of her infant son, Jordan.

 

Even under these emotionally battered circumstances, Adams conveys a strong sense of Dana’s initiative, investigative resourcefulness and journalistic chops … along with a hell-you-will refusal to share her work with a colleague, simply because he’s a male colleague. And — quickly determined — a wet-behind-the-ears and clearly unprepared male colleague, at that.

 

(Will we never get beyond such sexist behavior?)

 

This scene, in the New York Times bullpen, is a quick glimpse of how Washington and Williams will sketch the rest of their film: via revealing expressions and body language, and concise — but quite telling — exchanges of dialogue.

 

This is a true relationship drama; the story unfolds via illuminating dialogue exchanges between lovers, parents and children, and caring friends. The overall tone is gentle and mostly quiet, allowing us to enter these characters’ lives, as they bond with each other. Washington extracts sensitive, heartfelt performances from everybody, including the minor players.

 

We enjoy spending time with them. How often can you say that?

 

The Photograph: Nicely developed

The Photograph (2020) • View trailer 
Four stars. PG-13, for sensuality and brief profanity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 2.14.20

It has been so long between gentle, sensitively constructed relationship dramas, that it took a minor act of will to get back into their rhythm.

While trying to satisfy his curiosity regarding a famous photographer with humble
Louisiana roots, Michael (LaKeith Stanfield) encounters Mae (Issa Rae), currently
curating an exhibit of the woman's work.

Writer/director Stella Meghie’s thoughtful little film shares its charms without bombast. No car chases or explosions. No gun battles. No ironic catastrophes. No unexpected, life-altering freak accidents. No natural disasters or other indications of Mother Nature’s displeasure. (Well, OK; there is a hurricane. But it serves mostly as a backdrop that heightens the developing intensity between two characters.)

This is just an uncomplicated set of cleverly intertwined love stories between characters separated by time but linked by behavior.

How utterly refreshing.

Meghie has an unerring ear for naturalistic dialog — whether flirty or contemplative — all of which is delivered with persuasive sincerity by her well-sculpted characters. It’s always fun to watch such people fall in love; movies have excelled at that since the medium’s conception (but not so much lately, sad to say).

It’s equally engaging to fret over conflicted, angst-riddled individuals who put head above heart: to wonder whether they’ll see the light and take the offered shot at romance. Or, indeed, if instead we must acknowledge that some folks are destined for a path that doesn’t include the stability (confinement?) of conventional togetherness.

And whether they’ll come to regret such a decision.

Journalist Michael Block (LaKeith Stanfield), a rising star at a New York-based magazine, heads down to Louisiana for a feature piece on how coastal communities are recovering, post-Katrina and Deepwater Horizon oil spill. (Answer: Not well.) His local contact is crab fisherman Isaac Jefferson (Rob Morgan, nicely understated), a modest, easygoing fellow who never felt compelled to abandon the environment in which he grew up.

During an otherwise routine interview, Michael’s attention is drawn to a series of striking, black-and-white photographs, including one of the photographer herself: Christina Eames, a native daughter who broke Isaac’s heart a generation ago, when she left to seek fame and fortune in New York.