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A THOUSAND AND ONE Director: A.V. Rockwell Cast: Teyana Taylor, Aaron Kingsley Adetola, Aven Courtney, Josiah Cross, William Catlett, Teri Abney, Delissa Reynolds, Amelia Workman, Adriane Lenox, Mark Gessner, Azza El, Alicia Pilgrim, Gavin Schlosser, Jolly Swag MPAA Rating: (for language) Running Time: 1:57 Release Date: 3/31/23 |
Follow on Facebook | Follow on Twitter | Become a Patron Review by Mark Dujsik | March 30, 2023 People are not simple, and writer/director A.V. Rockwell's debut feature A Thousand and One embraces that reality. Here, we meet a young mother who makes an impulsive and, yes, illegal decision to remove her child from the foster system. To focus on the latter description of that choice would be a mistake, not only because of the purity of the woman's motivation, but also because we're talking about a system that has failed this boy, just as it failed the mother years ago and will continue to fail the kid if he stays within it. This is not a matter of right and wrong for Inez (Teyana Taylor), who technically kidnaps her son near the start of the film. It's simply a matter of doing something or doing nothing. The latter never helped anyone, and if anyone knows that, it's Inez, a Black woman who grew up in New York City without a family and wound up in prison in her late teens for stealing from the shop where she worked. Nobody did anything for her, yet here she is, deciding to give up whatever opportunities she could have now for someone else. This film, set in the mid-1990s and about a decade beyond, is mostly about the sacrifices people make—not because they necessarily want to but because they must. They aren't so much obligated to do so, even if some more doubtful moments in the lives of these characters lead them to speak and act as if all of this is a burden, as they are compelled to. It's some feeling inside that shouts louder than one's selfishness, the potential negative ramifications that could result, and a world that seems set on putting down people like Inez and her son at every turn and in new ways every few years or so. What's so compelling about Rockwell's film, which is in the vein of social realist drama in spite of all the melodramatic potential that exists just beneath the surface of this story, is how fundamentally optimistic it is. There are so many things that are wrong and unjust about the situation in front of Inez and Terry, the boy who becomes a teenager over the course of the story, and there are many more things that could go wrong and prove even more injustice for the two of them. Rockwell doesn't ignore or sugarcoat those matters, as a teenage Terry is repeatedly stopped by the prejudicial stop-and-frisk policy of the time and the gentrification of Harlem hits home a few years later. There is so much more to these characters, though, than misery, emotional scars, and how systems constantly work to bring them down in this world, and Rockwell allows her characters to be strong, compassionate, and complex despite and because of all they have gone through and continue to endure. The basics of Rockwell's tale are fairly simple, which allows for even more time and space for these characters to grow. Inez is released from a 18-month sentence at Rikers Island, is put up at a shelter, and begins looking for some kind of work, ideally as a hair stylist, which is her talent and passion, although she has dreams of opening up a shop of her own instead of working for someone else. While going about her business, Inez spots the 6-year-old Terry (played by Aaron Kingsley Adetola), who refuses to talk to her. He's currently living in a foster home, and after negligence puts him in the hospital, Inez repeatedly visits the boy. On one occasion, the boy asks his mother a straightforward and shattering question: "How come you keep leaving me?" Until this point, Taylor's performance is defined by the external boldness of this character (asking the guy from whose shop she stole for a severance—or her job back, if he doesn't want to pay), but in this moment, the question hits Inez like a punch to the gut. It's the first real sign that Inez's attitude is mostly a show, and Taylor's work is stronger still in the way all of those edges become smoother over the course of the 11 years that pass in this tale. After composing herself, Inez asks Terry a similarly simple question: Does he want to live with his mother? He does, and thus begins the journey to become a family and make a home, amidst the various challenges of a changing but consistently tough New York, as well as the pressure of keeping Terry's status hidden from the authorities and anyone who might ask too many questions. That undercurrent lends an air of doom to the proceedings, as do multiple other moments (such as the encounter with the cops, the occasional sound bite from Rudy Giuliani, and the announcement that the second act takes place in 2001), but that feeling isn't the focus of Rockwell's story or filmmaking (None of those background details play out in a way one might anticipate or fear). It's entirely about how these two live through and try to rise above these struggles, these times, and their difficult beginnings—both as individuals and as a family. A 13-year-old Terry (played by Aven Courtney), now living under a different name, is given an opportunity to attend a specialized science school, and later, a 17-year-old Terry (played by Josiah Cross) has to figure out what he's going to do with the rest of his life. Inez tries to keep him on the right track, even as her own path is complicated by other matters—especially her relationship with Lucky (William Catlett). Lucky, too, is allowed to be complex and contradictory. He's a man who doesn't want the responsibilities of a family, since his background is similar to Inez, but he takes to them as best as he can. He strays, to be sure, but when Inez asks him to "show up" for her, Lucky does. There's a subtle but notable definition of the character in the way the man doesn't need to be asked to be there for Terry. He just is. The secret at the heart of this tale does come into play by the end of A Thousand and One. Just as the filmmaker avoids any swerve into melodrama with the rest of the story, the emergence of that truth brings even more. There's a real power in how the film finally re-contextualizes what love and sacrifice actually mean here. Copyright © 2023 by Mark Dujsik. All rights reserved. |
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