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.
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| 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? |
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 tapestry expands to focus on two additional time streams: flashbacks to 1998, when Dana and Charles first meet, and then moving forward as their relationship oh-so-slowly develops; and a final lengthy epilogue in 2014, when Jordan has become a teenager (now played by Jalon Christian). This could be confusing in lesser hands, particularly since Washington does nothing to signal the shifts; but the narrative flow is so specific — editor Hughes Winborne’s work is so precise — that we’ve no trouble keeping up.
I’m always impressed by a director and scripter who respect the intelligence of their audience.
(Just in passing, I’ve long been vexed by films wherein character names match actor names; it muddies efforts at clarity in the subsequent review. But I guess it can’t be helped here; Dana’s son obviously deserves his actual name, and who can fault the casting of Michael B. Jordan?)
Dana initially bumps into Charles unexpectedly, while joining a family celebration of her father’s birthday at her parents’ home. Charles knows her father from their shared military careers, and is visiting as a favor. His politeness and formality, in her presence, are almost comical; indeed, she gently mocks him, but he doesn’t rise to the bait … and, despite herself, that clearly makes an impression.
Actually, how could he not? Jordan’s performance is so genuine, so unapologetically heartfelt, that Charles is irresistible.
It’s extremely difficult, these days, to pull off such homespun, apple-pie sincerity — particularly when blended with a “truth, justice and the American way” mindset — without sliding into eye-rolling parody. Christopher Reeve nailed it back in 1978, with his Clark Kent/Superman; Jordan is even better here. He’s utterly adorable.
Also incredibly handsome, which Dana can’t help noticing. (“It’s a good thing you saw him first,” her sister Gwen later comments.)
He also surprises her. Despite what seems a rudimentary educational background, Charles is a talented amateur illustrator, and worldly enough to acknowledge a fondness for Monet.
Almost despite herself, Dana suggests that he really should visit New York some time, so she can show him some Monet originals. “It’s completely different, seeing the individual brush strokes,” she insists; that’s another telling line, as — in time — they’ll soon be enchanted by each other’s individual brush strokes.
But not quickly. Honestly, the fumbling, stumbling arc of their s-l-o-w-l-y developing relationship almost belongs in the Victoria era. That said — at a time when 21st century folks hop in and out of bed at the blink of an eye — it’s incredibly sweet to watch two people take their time.
Again, credit a blend of sharp writing and wholly persuasive performances by Jordan and Adams.
Alas, Dana’s cynicism and type A tendencies frequently get in the way; she’s also deeply uncomfortable — frightened — by the military career that constantly threatens to put Charles in harm’s way. The 9/11 terrorist attacks amplify such concerns; his subsequent deployment to Iraq, as 2003’s ill-advised “shock and awe” campaign begins, further increases her anxiety.
Eventually, as a means of adjusting, she encourages him to undertake the project that gives this film — and Canady’s book — its name. It’s impossible to overstate the significance of this endeavor, or the impact it has on later events.
We rarely spend time with Charles’ comrades, although it’s repeatedly made clear that his devotion to them is paramount (almost more so than his feelings for Dana, which also causes friction). Dana, on the other hand, is blessed with a strong support network: loving parents (Robert Wisdom and Tamara Tunie), sister Gwen and brother Mike; and caring work colleagues, most notably Miriam (Susan Pourfar).
Miriam is a devoted, best of all possible friends; Pourfar shares several strong, compelling scenes with Adams, both good times and bad.
Some may complain that Washington and Williams build their film to a finale that’s too manipulatively poignant, particularly given the teenage Jordan’s enhanced role; Christian isn’t wholly able to sell his character’s excessively angelic qualities.
Even so, I’d argue that this finale is well earned, by the quality of work that precedes it.
And I’ve no doubt that sales of Canedy’s memoir are about to enjoy a significant bump.
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