旧金山的最后一个黑人

Title: The Last Black Man in San FranciscoYear: 2019Genre: DramaCountry: USALanguage: English Director: Joe TalbotScreenwriters: Joe Talbot, Rob Richertbased on the stories by Jimmie Fails and Joe TalbotComposer: Emile MosseriCinematographer: Adam Newport-BerraEditor: David MarksCast:Jimmie FailsJonathan MajorsRob MorganTichina ArnoldJamal TruloveDanny GloverMike EppsFinn WittrockAntoine RedusMaximilienne EwaltJordan GomesJello BiafraThora BirchRating: 7.1/10

Title: Magazine DreamsYear: 2023Genre: DramaCountry: USALanguage: EnglishDirector/Screenwriter: Elijah Bynum Composer: Jason HillCinematographer: Adam ArkapawEditor: Jon OtazuaCast:Jonathan MajorsHarrison PageHarriet Sansom HarrisHaley BennettMichael O'HearnTaylour PaigeBradley StrykerCraig CackowskiSonny ValicentiTim Martin GleasonRating: 7.4/10

The cinematic landscape often presents us with films that, while distinct in their narratives, resonate with shared human experiences. Such is the case with Joe Talbot's poetic debut, THE LAST BLACK MAN IN SAN FRANCISCO, and Elijah Bynum's acute character study, his sophomore feature MAGAZINE DREAMS. Both films, notably featuring puissant performances from Jonathan Majors, delve into the profound struggles of individuals grappling with identity, belonging, and the relentless pursuit of an ideal in a world that often seems to be leaving them behind. THE LAST BLACK MAN IN SAN FRANCISCO is a tender, melancholic, and deeply personal film (it births out of its Jimmie Fails' own experience) that feels like both a billet-doux and a eulogy to a city in flux. It hinges upon Fails (playing a version of himself), a young man obsessed with reclaiming the Victorian house his grandfather allegedly built in the rapidly gentrifying Fillmore District of San Francisco. Alongside his best friend, Mont (Jonathan Majors), a quiet, aspiring playwright, Jimmie embarks on a quixotic quest to restore what he believes is his rightful heritage. The film excels in its dreamlike atmosphere, crafted through exquisite cinematography that captures the city's unique light and shadows, and a sublime score by Emile Mosseri, which is particularly noteworthy for its ethereal and melancholic quality, often utilizing strings and piano to evoke a sense of longing and nostalgia. It perfectly complements the film's visual poetry, enhancing the emotional weight of Jimmie's illusion-dissipated self-discovery and the city's changing landscape. The music frequently shifts between hopeful and somber tones, also mirroring Jimmie's fluctuating optimism and the underlying sadness of his situation. The film is a meditation on memory, the meaning of home, and the pain of displacement. Talbot doesn't just show gentrification; he makes you feel its insidious creep, the way it erodes history and community. Jimmie's stubborn attachment to the house, even when faced with uncomfortable truths, speaks to a universal yearning for roots and stability in an ever-changing world. Fails' performance is not about grand gestures, but rather the quiet determination and wistful sadness that define Jimmie's quest. Majors, as Mont, delivers a nuanced performance that is both supportive and subtly complex. He is the quiet observer, the artist processing the world around him, and the steadfast anchor for Jimmie's often naive idealism. His portrayal adds layers of depth and empathy, making the bond between the two friends the emotional anchor of the film. While critically acclaimed for its artistry and sentiments, the film's slow pace could leave the narrative feel less urgent or even meandering. This atmospheric methodology, while intentional, might lead to a sense of narrative ambiguity or a lack of strong plot progression (also, how does the squatter arrangement works in USA?). Additionally, the film's understated emotional register and reliance on subtle character interactions, while appreciative for some, might create a feeling of emotional distance for others. Also, a whiff of self-consciousness about its own Afrocentric agenda can plume along its mythopoetic tone. (e.g. an arbitrary offing of a secondary character seems quite out of sync with the whole story's ruminative through-line.) In stark contrast to the lyrical decoction of Talbot's film, MAGAZINE DREAMS plunges audience into the dysfunctional, often disturbing world of Killian Maddox (Majors), an amateur bodybuilder consumed by his ambition to achieve professional glory. Living with his ailing grandfather William (Page), Killian battles severe social anxiety, explosive anger, and a profound sense of isolation, all exacerbated by his extreme dedication to his physique. Majors’ transmogrification into Killian is nothing short of astounding, both physically and emotionally. His bovine intensity, his cringeworthy inceldom - which is a more complex hard nut to crack. The date with his love interest Jesse, played with an empathetic uneasiness by Bennett, is a feast of clangers and Paige's memorable cameo as a streetwalker smoothly suggests Killian's problem is not sexual frustration but more like confusion, further confirmed by the encounter with the name bodybuilder he frenetically stans - and his volatile outbursts onrush all over the screen, taking no prisoners and devouring everything but the kitchen sink. Killian's experience is a harrowing scrutiny of obsession, toxic masculinity, and the mental toll of pursuing an unattainable ideal. Bynum's film conduces to a challenging watch, forcing the audience to confront the darker side of human interactions and the devastating consequences of unchecked desires. MAGAZINE DREAMS adopts a raw, gritty, and unflinching thumbprint, mirroring its protagonist's struggles and unforgiving reality, but magnanimously stops short of becoming too distressing. Visually, it's defined by bleak realism, with often desaturated lighting highlighting mundane, depressing settings like gyms and small apartments. This creates a sense of authenticity, devoid of romanticism. Intimate and unsettling close-ups frequently zoom in on Killian's strained, veiny muscles. These tight, voyeuristic shots pull audience into Killian's isolated existence. There's a sharp contrast of grandeur and grime seesawing between idealized magazine bodybuilders and his unhygienic daily life. The symbolic use of color leans towards muted tones, occasionally broken by artificial gym lights or glossy magazine hues, subtly emphasizing artificiality versus natural struggle. Ultimately, Killian's muscle-bound physique becomes a central visual motif, a focus on the body as a landscape of ambition, pain, and loneliness. Both films, in their unique styles, explore themes of identity and belonging. Jimmie seeks belonging through a physical structure, a house that represents a lost past and a fading community. Killian, on the other hand, seeks belonging and validation through the extreme sculpting of his body, believing physical perfection will grant him acceptance and purpose. Despite their differing tones and narratives, both films offer profound insights into the human condition in a world that often feels indifferent or even hostile, and is increasingly so due to today's political climate and manmade horrors. Watching them in conjunction also provides a compelling look at Jonathan Majors' undeniably astonishing acting chops (notwithstanding the blemishes of his own violent behaviors that have derailed his purple streak of a Hollywood up-and-coming leading man) and the diverse ways cinema can embroider an intricate tapestry of human experience. Lastly, what really troubles Yours Truly is American cinema's unrelenting propagation of a person's true worth is to be remembered after they are gone, as if that is the new tenet which could inject some sort of meaning into the ravaged headspace of our increasingly religion-jaded, faithless world on the precipice of self-destruction (after hell and purgatory cannot deter mankind from conducting unspeakable vile acts). If anything, only its desperation can eclipse that statement's oceanic erroneousness,, referential entries: Spike Lee's BLACKKKLANSMAN (2018, 7.0/10); Rose Glass's LOVE LIES BLEEDING (2024, 7.3/10); Ari Aster's BEAU IS AFRAID (2023, 7.2/10); Cord Jefferson's AMERICAN FICTION (2023, 7.7/10).