Writer/director David Fortune’s sensitively assembled little film completely erases the divide between viewer and screen; from the very first frame, it feels more like eavesdropping on two actual people.
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| Although this day begins with the excitement of attending an Atlanta Braves baseball game, the journey for Mason (Jeremiah Alexander Davis, left) and Lucky (William Catlett) will have unexpected hiccups. |
And, at times, genuinely worried.
The setting is present-day Atlanta, in a poorer part of the city. Lucky (William Catlett) and his adolescent son Mason (Jeremiah Alexander Daniels) are emotionally damaged, still grieving the unexpected loss of Lucky’s wife, and the boy’s mother, Tammy (Brandee Evans, in a few fleeting flashback sequences).
Mason has Down syndrome; we meet him early one morning, as he painstakingly strings beads. Lucky helps the boy into formal clothing; they make waffles. Lucky involves his son in the process; Mason pays careful attention, although he’s clearly more excited about the finished product.
This film’s title reflects how Mason spends much of his time illustrating his thoughts via drawings in a coloring book, which gives the boy a secondary method of “speaking” to his father, and to us.
Lucky and Mason join friends in a nearby park, for a celebration of Tammy’s life: an initially somber but ultimately cheerful gathering, as everybody shares memories. Mason, fixated by the large cluster of balloons, is given one as this service concludes; he happily clings to it.
As everybody departs, Lucky’s friend Rico (rapper Kia Shine Coleman), connected with the Atlanta Braves, gives them tickets to the following evening’s game at Truist Park. Back at home, Lucky helps Mason into bed, reminding the boy to say his prayers before slipping under the covers.
Lucky’s bearing, speech and gaze bespeak more than anguish; he’s also exhausted, in body and spirit, from the constant care and attention that Mason requires. This formerly was a responsibility shared with Tammy, but her absence has placed this loving burden solely on Lucky’s shoulders.
No resentment is present. Catlett makes it clear that Lucky cherishes his son, attending to the boy with a tender patience resulting from long experience. Even so, this has taken a toll, exacerbated by the day’s activities.
And the following day begins on a worse note.
Lucky reluctantly, but of necessity, purchases a dodgy used car. He and Mason drive to a nearby wrecking yard, searching for a particular vehicle. As is the case throughout this film, Fortune tells the story visually, with little or no expository dialogue. They find a car, badly damaged on the driver’s side; Lucky quietly removes his late wife’s belongings, left within when the vehicle was towed to this bleak vehicular grave.
We need no explanation. We know what happened.
That grim chore concluded, father and son set off for Truist Park ... but, predictably, the car sputters to a halt.
Having built up this day’s “great adventure,” and not wanting to disappoint the boy, Lucky walks them to the Indian Creek station, the most distant stop on MARTA’s Blue Line. Once on the subway, Mason is captivated by a passing vendor whose cart includes balloons. In a rare moment of strictness, Lucky refuses to purchase a balloon, insisting that Mason focus on “going to the game.”
By this point, it has become obvious that this story’s dramatic heft results just as much from cinematographer Nikolaus Summerer’s monochrome tableaus — both haunting and beautiful — as this journey continues. The passing buildings and neighborhoods speak wordless volumes: poverty, neglect and de facto racial segregation. An atmosphere of hopelessness pushes against the subway windows.
(That said, it must be mentioned that Lucky and Maggie made their home as cozy and clean as possible.)
Emotionally drained, physically spent, unable to prevent it, Lucky does the worst thing possible.
He falls asleep.
When he jerks awake, only moments later, Mason no longer occupies the adjacent seat.
What follows requires Lucky to navigate a wealth of emotions — anguish, determination, relief, wariness, resignation and much more — all of which Catlett delivers persuasively, under Fortune’s meticulously shaded guidance. It’s a bravura performance, even more so during moments when Lucky’s reflexive reactions — impatience and anger — must be concealed beneath civility and restraint.
Key encounters involve a MARTA transit cop, played oh-so-perfectly by Joseph Curtis Callender; and a kind diner waitress, played with delightful cheerfulness by Terri J. Vaughn.
Young Daniels’ touching performance also must be acknowledged. As Daniel Laurie did for years, as Reggie Jackson on television’s Call the Midwife, Daniels breaks barriers and redefines the representation of Down syndrome actors. He’s charismatic and often unexpectedly funny; his sensitive, searching eyes miss nothing, and his unexpected smiles are like sunrise. The bond between Mason and Lucky is palpable, in great part because the young actor holds his own in every scene.
This may be Daniels’ first film role, but it certainly won’t be his last.
Mention also must be made of Dabney Morris’ lovely and delicately lyrical score: primarily piano-based, with occasional quiet orchestral flourishes. He adds just the right touch of pathos or exultation to every scene.
Fortune got his start with four short films, from 2016 to 2022; the last one, Us, was a winner in the Netflix Content Creators Program. Fortune then received a $1 million grant to expand Us into this, his first feature film. It premiered at the 2024 Tribeca Festival, and — no surprise — has since garnered a dozen film festival awards.
Based on the delicate touch and exquisite beauty of Color Book, he’s clearly a talent to watch.
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