Short Stop: It's beautiful to witness the love of Two Black Boys in Paradise
What better place to start with Baz Sells' Two Black Boys in Paradise than its title? I love to straight-on-ness of it. There's no symbolism, no wordplay, not coming at the theme or content of the film from some strange angle. It's a title that lets you know what you're in for, and maybe more importantly, what you're not in for. So many stories about Black characters center on pain, rage, the pantheon of racist bullshit that Black people have to face every day, or have faced throughout history. These are important stories, ones that need to be told, be kept top of mind. But it's always refreshing to watch something that instead hones in on Black joy, love, friendship, romance, whatever else. That lets the characters breathe, relax, goof around, live.
Based on the poem by Dean Atta (and adapted by Sells, Atta, and producer Ben Jackson), this short had me crying with its very first line. We find the two Black boys -- who remain unnamed, but we're told they have "Black boy names" -- floating in, yes, an idyllic paradise. A wooden boat on a serene lake, surrounded by mountains and forest, endless stars in the sky. They're naked, entwined, so in love. Immediately, I was taken with the gorgeous art, the beautifully sculpted bodies, the tranquil color palette, the sense of calm. I love their hair, two distinct hairstyles with great texture and (for the boy with locs) movement.
But that calm is interrupted by two muscular white arms emerging from the lake like some kind of undersea monster, momentarily pulling the boys back to reality, where they're just going about their day, holding hands as they walk down a bustling street, the eyes of every passer-by (and of course, some cops) on them.
Atta's poem challenges the way Black boys are viewed, asking if you, the viewer, believe Black boys are real. Or do you see them as little men? Like the title, I love the frankness of this, no words minced, cutting right to the heart of the problem: the way society views and treats Black boys, not letting them be children and enjoy those innocent years. Instead, they're looked at from a young age with suspicion, fear, hatred. When you add on the additional layer of queerness, that societal microscope burns hotter, more fuel for the fire of misunderstanding, and thus fearing or hating, the Other.
It's a jolt, a painful one, here, as it always is. When you see it in movies or shows. When you see it on the news or on Twitter. It never gets easier.
But here, at least, they get a reprieve. This is their story to tell, to live out, their path to find. And they do. They make their escape, magically, and find themselves in paradise again, and this is where the short really starts to revel in their relationship, in their very existence. Finally, these boys are allowed to grow up, to be sexy, to be playful, to fuck. It's joyous and a little steamy and wonderful to watch.
And from there, generously, the short expands its scope, celebrating love however it looks, whatever combination of people, whatever labels are attached, or ignored. The final moments reminded me of that great moment in A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood when Tom Hanks' Mr. Rogers asks the viewer to think about all the people who have loved you into the person you are. Here, the film talks about sharing paradise with someone, particularly with the person you're thinking of as you hear the closing words of the poem. It had me reflecting on my relationship with my husband, the (thankfully few) moments of homophobia we've experienced, the magical mundane days, the countless memories of highs and lows. Love is such a gift. Finding paradise in and with another person is such a gift. One that all Black boys deserve.
Comments
Post a Comment