I'm Your Woman (2020)

 Score: 4.5 / 5

The gritty crime dramas of the '70s -- and since -- are almost always about men. White-dominated mob brotherhood violence is manifest in our minds without much provocation, and while I don't want to disparage movies that dramatize organized crime, they tend to succeed by drawing attention to toxic masculinity, obsessive materialism, and cruelty to immigrants, women, and queer folk in a way more glamorous than condemnatory. Which is why Julia Hart's latest film is gobsmackingly brilliant in its subversive, progressive, and thoroughly entertaining twist on the genre.

Jean (Rachel Brosnahan) introduces herself in third person, much like a fairytale beginning, but her tone clearly indicates this is no love story. She has a nice life, lounging at her husband Eddie's (Bill Heck) home while he is away at work. They are apparently unable to procreate or even adopt children, and Jean seems to be dealing with that well; we first see her in fairly glamorous style at home alone, waiting for Eddie to return, stretched on a chaise in vibrant pink and sipping though it is certainly not cocktail hour. What does the hubby do? Well, we don't really know, but when he suddenly and mysteriously shows up with a baby, gifting it to Jean with no warning, we suspect foul play. Tellingly, she does not question it; if anything, she seems irritated that her carefully upkept appearance might suffer as a result of this sudden imposition.

She's not much of a housewife, beyond her good looks, as she can't even fry an egg, and she either doesn't care (or has learned not to inquire) where her husband frequently goes. But she accepts the burden of her new child, Harry, with apparent grace. Until, that is, she is brusquely awoken in the middle of the night by her husband's associate, who gives her money and directions to go on the run. Passed off to Cal (Arinze Kene, whose performance is terrific), she finally learns Eddie is missing and "everyone" (meaning very dangerous people) is looking for him, Jean gets placed in a suburban house with explicit instructions to stay in isolation and talk to no one. As anyone living during the last year could tell you, this isn't easy, and Jean quickly connects with the kindly widowed neighbor.

As Jean learns to navigate this half-world of crime and violence, she slowly comes into her own. I say slowly because the movie is almost unbearably slow-burning. But I suppose, in context, she actually starts standing up for herself quicker than you'd expect. More importantly -- and big kudos to Hart and co-writer Jordan Horowitz -- she learns a lot about her own privilege as a wealthy white woman. Through her relationship with Cal, her protector, and his own family of Teri (a dazzling Stephanie Blake), their son, and Cal's father (Frankie Faison), Jean's eyes are opened beyond the violence of organized crime to the violent nature of America. Her friendly neighbor might even be in on a scheme to get Jean and her baby, and the sequence that resolves that conflict is what kicks the movie from slick domestic mystery to full-blown suburban thriller.

Hart's eye shifts coolly, in this scene, from focusing on her own production design of fabulous seventies fashion to a noir aesthetic. Candy-colored clothes and furniture are slowly toned down to earthier hues, and the amber-tinted lightscape becomes heavily shrouded in encroaching shadow. And yet, as her world descends to paranoia and brutality, Jean comes into her own; with gumption and verve, she muscles her way through unlikely scenarios into a subgenre we've not yet seen on screen. Brosnahan is nothing short of amazing in this movie, supported as she is by her equally arresting co-stars, but the screenplay gives her a lot of great material to work with. Jean's initially weak, waiting character forges ahead into a strange and violent new world with rousing fortitude, all while raising a baby and building community with unlikely outsiders. Entertainment that deals honestly and encouragingly with motherhood, feminism, and race? Yes, please! This is no Godfather redone with a woman and Black folk as the main characters; this is a subversive approach to staunchly feminist possibilities of a new genre (more than once I thought of Widows while watching this movie), built on the dying framework of a genre best laid to rest.

Fast Color (2019)

Score: 4 / 5

In a future world covered in deserts where water is a rare commodity, you might find someone like Mel Gibson in leather or Clint Eastwood slinging guns. Or you might find Gugu Mbatha-raw in this charming little movie that plays like an antidote for the big-budget plot-driven sci-fi superhero flicks of our era. This is an American Midwest story that operates as a chamber piece about the women in a small family, a feminist Black folktale in the form of arthouse indie cinema.

Mbatha-raw plays Ruth, a lone vagrant in the desert wastes prone to seizures. Unfortunately, her seizures seem to cause earthquakes, a phenomenon that has caught the attention of scientists (and maybe the government) who seek to capture and study her. After a narrow escape, Ruth returns to her home, now occupied by her mother Bo (Lorraine Toussaint) and daughter Lila (Saniyya Sidney). These two women share telekinetic powers: they can dissolve and reassemble material objects, and can see a mysterious spectrum of light they call "the colors." Lila has never met her mother, and so the two begin their relationship on timid ground, while Bo and Ruth seem to have some unresolved history.

We learn along with Lila that Ruth once had the same powers as her mother, but they have long since been neglected. The suggestion is that some trauma -- or, perhaps, the normalized trauma enacted on black women in America -- caused Ruth to suppress her abilities, which then manifested as the disastrous seizures we have witnessed. Bo and Lila work with Ruth to make peace with herself, but their idyll is broken when the scientist returns. Eventually, Ruth realizes her potential, breaking the drought and, enabled by the sacrifice of her mother, fleeing with her daughter to a safe haven.

Does it all sound a bit weird? It is, but in the best way. Major elements here are laughably bizarre, including Ruth's unexplained control over nature (earthquakes, the drought) and the exact nature of these titular colors we occasionally see but seem to have no concrete significance. And that ending: sure, it's heartbreaking when Bo gives herself up to be studied by the white scientist, but then to have Ruth flee with Lila for a safe haven in...Rome? What?

But there is no denying that these elements mean something to director and writer Julia Hart, whose vision here is myth-making gold. Not unlike the confidence David Lowery has in folktale-craft, Hart here keeps everything at a slow and steady pace, letting us soak in the scenery, details, and characters in peace. And all that's to say nothing of Mbatha-raw's performance, which deftly straddles wry humor and genuine heart, or Toussaint, whose Bo is a creature of rare beauty and grace. And while the performances and aesthetic are entrancing, it's no less brilliant of the film to force its audience to do some work along the way: filling in blanks and allowing the strangeness of Fast Color to charm us.