«If Beale Street could talk»: a film that speaks through its violins

Cinema Wednesdays - Loris S. Musumeci

A young couple are walking. The camera follows them in an aerial shot. The violins of the soundtrack accompany them. They kiss modestly. Cut. We find ourselves in prison. The lover, Fonny, is on one side of the window. She, Tish, is on the other. She's come to visit him to tell him some great news despite the circumstances. «We're going to have a baby.» Life isn't easy for black New Yorkers in the seventies. It's even harder for a woman who has the added disadvantages of being a racial minority and a single mother. Her family joins forces to help Fonny get out of prison. He proclaims his innocence, if indeed he is innocent.

Barry Jenkins once again offers viewers an authentic cinematic experience. Just as in Moonlight, the winner of numerous awards, including the Oscar for Best Picture, the African-American director has chosen to adapt a literary work. This time, it is If Beale Street Could Talk (1974) by James Baldwin. Once again, it’s a story about the lives of Black people in the United States. Once again, it’s a success.

 Read also: Moonlight, a poetry of images

Despite the director's recurring exploration of this theme, it is clear that while the Negritude While it is central to his work, it is by no means the sole driving force behind his art. Barry Jenkins is, above all, a master of atmosphere. He restores to the streets all the vitality brought there by the oppressed; poverty is carefully suggested through details that avoid both sensationalism and artifice. Thus, thanks to the subtlety of the setting, the film avoids falling into the Manichaean trap of emphasizing the contrast between neighborhoods for white people and those for Black people. Yet, If Beale Street Could Talk Sometimes it falls into the trap of racial and religious stereotypes; however, the blame always lies with the screenplay and not with the film's formal structure. 

At this level, the creation of atmosphere owes its lifeblood to cinematography. Barry Jenkins is a lover of images. He is a lover of colors. A lover of light. Of shadows. Of the pale white of daylight streaming through a window. Of the bluish black of night. The film’s images are a delight. In fact, they may even convey the underlying emotion more powerfully than the subject matter itself. 

But the step forward compared to Moonlight lies in the music. While this first film was more sophisticated and refined in its approach to the theme and in the structure of the scenes, If Beale Street Could Talk is more powerful musically. The violins, never growing tiresome, are present throughout the film. Beautifully orchestrated, yet understated, they too are a character in their own right. Perhaps they are an allegory for fate, perhaps for tragedy, perhaps for suffering, or even for injustice. In any case, I’m willing to bet that the Oscar for Best Original Score will be the film’s top honor—a film that tells the simple and poignant story of Fonny and Tish. 

Write to the author: loris.musumeci@leregardlibre.com

Photo credit: © DCM Film Distribution