Beauty

 

Andrew Dosunmu's Beauty (Netflix) is a perplexing, frustrating film written by Lena Waithe, who wrote the powerful Queen & Slim (2019).

Beauty stars the lovely but miscast Gracie Marie Bradley as the gifted singing daughter of demanding, signifying church-going parents (the ever-reliable Giancarlo Esposito and Niecy Nash) who are all-about praise in the pew but are vulgar, chain-smoking martinets at home. The contradiction doesn't seem to rattle Beauty or her brothers, Cain and Abel (Kyle Bary and Micheal Ward, respectively) but gets the side-eye from Beauty's girlfriend Jasmine (Aleyse Shannon).

Others have said this picture's major fail is not having Beauty sing ... ever. I agree. That's not to say the film is bereft of music. It's not and includes a cavalcade of classic performances from Mahalia Jackson, Judy Garland and Patti LaBelle and a score of others. But no Beauty.

It seems a strange call but may be the filmmakers' attempt at lifting the story onto a more metaphorical plain, with the conflict between Beauty and her parents over the direction of the young woman's singing career serving to explore other issues -- greed, emotional displacement and repression, maybe. All of these are exhibited by Beauty's tyrannical father and envious mother, who was denied her own shot at greatness and relegated to the background on other singers' stages and records. She doesn't think Beauty's ready. Daddy does and is hoping for a big pay day.

Adding to my frustration is the wispiness of Beauty's relationship with Jasmine. They are often filmed snuggling or grazing each other's face but never generating enough heat to suggest there is passion between them. It all seems naive and pointlessly coy.

The film is beautifully shot but the story feels incomplete and uncertain about its purpose. Pity.