Queen & Slim
Pupule rating: 3.7 (out of 4)
Consolidated Ward
The strength of Q&S is not a thick, layered plot. It’s not a deep roster of award-winning actors. Q&S is a voyage of expectations nipped by surprises. Little moments of clarity and YOLO actions between two people who really couldn’t be more different.
Within the first 10 minutes, we see that this Tinder date at a greasy spoon (yes, my kind of eatery) pits these two very independent-minded young adults against each other as imaginable in a cordial setting. But each makes compromises without neutering personality. And the conversation never stops, even in the silences as they escape the brutal remnants of the opening scene.
The love is more about respect between survivors, locking onto hope when fear is suffocating. Even the one R-rated scene (it is a minute or so of borderline NC-17, no kids in the audience, please) rolls out with spliced scenes of a small-town protest, inadvertently sparked by Queen and Slim, that results in another death.
The only reason I didn’t want to see this was the predictable end, and I wasn’t surprised. There’s no gloss. There are hypocrisies and blatant, undeniable doubt, faith and doubt again as they ride from Ohio to Kentucky to Georgia. Not quite Bonnie and Clyde, but with a zillion times more unwanted (yet appreciated) fandom.
Social media is unavoidable, yet they toss their phones early in the film to cease being tracked. Texting, Twitter, Instagram, et al do not exist in front of our eyes. There’s plenty of media noise — newspaper headlines make it to the screen several times — and their actual ride is a classic 1970s beauty, and all of It embeds a very retro vibe. Stylistically, Q&S is a visual gift.
Daniel Kaluuya is a co-producer and star of this tale, and I always wonder why his eyes are so red. It works, though, as they escape in the night, and then revel when they can during those long stretches on country roads. When they talk about the beauty of their path, it’s not golden sunsets and black unicorns 24/7. It’s just real visuals of a real region, dilapidated hamlets, and even a stop at a ranch where Kaluuya gets on a white horse, bareback, after admitting he had never ridden a horse before. Q&S are themselves unicorns in this chapter that redefines the buddy flick. Not quite Thelma & Louise, just more gut-wrenching.
The absurdities are there. Jodie Turner-Smith is taller than him, which is no big deal in real life, but in movie land, this sends the norm for a loop. She is, really, a queen in her own lonely world as an attorney. He is a good son, obedient and pious. Riding low through the South in gear that they would never wear in their previous lives is parallel-universe level madness. But over time, as they take the back roads from town to town, her tiger dress and his red-velvet sweats become comfortable. Embracing the worst of possibilities gives them the strength they need.
They bring out the scarce, but bonding moments however small they may be during the journey. Before I sat down in that recliner seat, I wondered if this would somehow turn into a rom-com under the guise of one of today’s most onerous issues. In its own way, Q&S has many moments that poke our senses of humor within that context. Q&S slows down enough for us to enjoy — or question — any of their decisions. But it’s their world, their fate, their hope that is pronounced boldly, quietly. For two-plus hours, it was strangely hopeful. Sometimes poetic. A drop or two of Shakespeare. And painfully real.
Last note. Reading the first few pages of the script is almost as entertaining as the movie itself. The dialogue, the pauses, the co-dependency of these two people has a life of its own.
Comments