REVIEW: 'All Day and a Night' leaves a deeper impression
Ashton Sanders and Jeffrey Wright star in All Day and a Night, written and directed by Joe Robert Cole.
I’ve seen this story before, but not quite like this. In Joe Robert Cole’s second film, the acclaimed writer of Black Panther delivers a familiar story about black kids from the projects and meditations on inherited poverty, violence and institutionalized racism. What makes Cole’s a cut above the rest is its strict adherence to the idea that this is just one black person’s story, and the difficult balancing act it pulls off by telling the story in three non-linear chapters.
In All Day and a Night, Ashton Sanders plays Jahkor, the son of an abusive father addicted to drugs, J.D. (Jeffrey Wright), who dreams of a better life as an aspiring rap artist. Growing up with his two best buds, Lamark (Christopher Meyer) and TQ (Isaiah John), they live in a world in which the odds are stacked against them; in the film’s own words, “when the life of an average person is like winning the jackpot.” The trio take three separate paths to adulthood and it shows their attempts to break free from their rough Oakland neighborhood. Lamark enlists in the army, while Jahkor and TQ end up getting involved with a gang led by Stunna (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II).
From early on, it’s clear that J.D. casts a big shadow over Jahkor, who is taught a harsh lesson about the “dog eat man” world, witnesses domestic violence and abuse, and reluctantly participates in late-night, cigarette-and-alcohol binges as his dad’s company. Jahkor vows never to become like him, and to never touch that “dope money”. But when Jahkor tries to go straight, he can’t get over the barbed wire.
When he gets a job at a shoe store, a white customer assumes he’s stealing the shoes. When Lamark serves in the army and returns a quadriplegic, he starts believing white America doesn’t care about black people. His dreams of escaping the hood as a rap artist are slammed shut when the local producer with connections works with a rival gang. He’s powerless from the start, and it’s dangerous fuel to Jahkor’s pride and short fuse, both of which end up consuming him. The film constantly reminds you about institutionalized racism; “they teach you how to survive, but they don’t teach you how to live” is a common refrain.
This is Jahkor’s no-so-happy story, and the film wastes no time in letting you know that, starting the film off with a black screen and a sombre piano tone as Jahkor silently raps to himself about black people killing black people before committing a gruesome homicide. Jumping around from Jahkor’s childhood, the events leading up to the murder, and the subsequent fallout, the film is held together by Jahkor’s narration, an easy access to the silent rage Jahkor possesses which Sanders conveys so well. (He did the same in Moonlight when he attacks a classmate with a chair after he gets beaten up). Pride and stoicism are Jahkor’s overwhelming features, yet behind his monotone speech is a well of pain, and sometimes, love.
There is nothing particularly new here, but I can’t take off points for having hood film clichés that were telegraphed from the start. To penalize it would be like criticizing a superhero story when the good guy loses the first battle but wins the rematch. Cole’s execution is good – most of it through the actors’ performances, particularly Sanders, who needed to be good – and there’s a follow through with everything that gets foreshadowed. It is emotionally gripping without preaching, and never does it really attempt to be anything more than a story about a kid who starts going down the wrong path. There are no broader discussions about socioeconomics, politics or race relations. White authority figures appear rarely. Racism exists in Jahkor’s world, and it’s just something he has to deal with.
If we’re going down that path, however, perhaps the most recent shooting of Ahmaud Arbery showcases how little the times have changed. Hood films reached its peak in the 80’s and 90’s at the height of CRASH and corruption in the LAPD, and yet it seems like we are no further today than yesterday. If that’s the case, can when criticize All Day and a Night for being uninspired? The message may be the same but it’s not like we ever got it.
All Day and a Night gets three stars out of four.
