Mudbound (2017, R)

If I’m recalling correctly, this is the first Netflix original film to really break into the Oscars.  It’s not a best picture nominee, but with nods in a few major categories (acting, writing, cinematography,) Mudbound definitely puts Netflix on the Academy map in a way that it hasn’t been before (most of its past recognition, I believe, has been limited to documentaries.)

Two Georgia families find their lives tangled up in one another’s during and after World War II.  Thanks to a tenancy mishap, a white farmer and his wife end up living much closer to their Black sharecroppers than they initially intended.  This closeness brings both tension and unexpected friendship, particularly when the farmer’s brother Jamie and the sharecroppers’ son Ronsel return from the war in need of someone who can relate to their experiences.  But of course, in the Jim Crow South, interracial friendships can never be a simple matter of two people connecting on a meaningful level.

There’s a lot to unpack in this film.  I don’t know anything about the book it’s based on, but I feel the movie does pretty well in giving weight to all the dimensions involved.  For me, the most effective moments are the times when Henry, the farmer, drops in unexpectedly on the sharecroppers (Hap and Florence) to demand something of them.  Yes, they work on his farm, but they’re not his employees, or at least, not in theory.  It’s a great demonstration of how sharecropping, which purported to give Black farmers greater autonomy, was just an echo of slavery.  What Hap and Florence are doing never so much as crosses Henry’s mind when he interrupts their dinner to inform them they’re helping him unload his car, when he bursts into their house at night to say Florence needs to come tend to his sick children, or when he makes unreasonable demands on their emotional labor.  The more blatant racism of Henry’s father is stomach-churning, but this casual dismissiveness of Hap and Florence as people is also so unnerving to me; it feels more insidious. 

The connection between Jamie and Ronsel is interesting to me.  Both are struggling after the war in different ways – while Jamie is dealing with his PTSD by numbing himself with alcohol, Ronsel feels choked to be back in a segregated, suspicious community after the relative freedom he experienced in Europe.  When Ronsel makes a kind gesture to Jamie in a vulnerable moment, Jamie in turn takes him up as a friend and confidant.  There are still elements of paternalism and entitlement here – Jamie doesn’t exactly give Ronsel a choice in being the person Jamie unburdens himself to, and Ronsel is aware of the risks of their friendship in a way Jamie isn’t – which I think fits with the story.  Even as these two become friends and provide support to one another (and they do both give that support,) it doesn’t ignore how one of them has been raised to expect the other to cater to what he needs, an upbringing that doesn’t get rewritten easily.

The film boasts fine direction (from Dee Rees, whose work I loved in Pariah) and cinematography (Rachel Morrison is the first woman ever to be nominated in this category.)  The acting is also excellent across the board.  This was my first time seeing Garrett Hedlund in anything, but he’s very compelling as Jamie.  Jason Mitchell (Eazy-E from Straight Outta Compton) has great presence as Ronsel – I continue to be impressed whenever I see him.  Mary J. Blige does fine, subtle work in her nominated supporting performance as Florence, and the film additionally features Jason Clarke, Rob Morgan (who I’d previously seen on Stranger Things as one of Hopper’s officers,) Carey Mulligan, and Jonathan Banks (Mike from Breaking Bad.)

Warnings

Graphic violence, sexual content, language (including racial slurs,) drinking/smoking, and strong thematic elements (including hate crime.)