REVIEW: The Photograph

"I wish I had put as much courage into love as I put in my work."

This sentence becomes the recurring theme of Stella Meghe's film The Photograph featuring Issa Rae, LaKeith Stanfield, Chante Adams, and Y'lan Noel. This film highlights the interaction between history and agency within the context of love. By giving more attention to the humanity of its characters than to the tropes of the genre, The Photograph crafts a quiet yet solid picture of choosing love over its easier alternative, regret.

The film follows museum curator Mae Morton following the death of her mother, Christina, a talented photographer who kept her distance from Mae in life. Mae is approached by a journalist, Michael Block, who is chasing after a story about her mother and the romance she once had with a man named Isaac. Through Christina's letters and Isaac's retelling of the story, Mae comes to better understand her mother and her struggles, and the parallels she notices in her own life compel her to be proactive in her life, especially in the love blossoming between her and Michael.

The film alternates between the two love stories, giving priority to Mae and Michael. This works to its advantage and detriment. The present-day love story feels the more compelling, though I have the sneaking suspicion that this is largely owing to Christina and Isaac's courtship not being sufficiently developed. Christina's fatal departure might have had more sting for the audience had we been allowed to see more of their honeymoon phase.

The plot goes about where you expect it to go. The third-act twist is even one of the more obvious twists they could have gone for, though it plays organically into the thematic questions of agency in love and how our histories shape who we are. Christina and Isaac's relationship naturally echoes in Mae and Micheal's, though the connections are neither obvious nor cheap. Mae finds herself redeeming both Isaac and her mother for how they wish they had acted.

Rae and Stanfield bring humanity to their characters and help the audience to feel they are watching people not tropes. The film is lacking for big names in the cast (though Jasmine Cephas Jones of Hamilton fame does feature as a supporting character, and you might recognize Rob Morgan from Stranger Things). Allowing the actors to work with a mostly blank slate lets them leave their own marks on these characters.

The film isn't remarkably indulgent. There aren't a lot of bitter lovers' quarrels or running into each other's arms as the music swells. (I don't think the music ever swells, actually?) The film carries a certain dignity in that way and asserts that learning to live and love is still interesting without leaning on exaggerated drama.

The film's pacing is similarly unconcerned with artificially heightening its stakes or demanding to be seen, creating a sort of slow bake rather than an intense burn. Though the movie is only about an hour and forty minutes long, you lose yourself in it, not quite knowing or caring how long you've been in the auditorium or how long until the credits start rolling. This I predict will be the movie's hardest sell. Not everyone will get behind such an approach, though I attest the rewards are worth the investment.

Indeed, this isn't a movie designed for escapism. It very much wants the viewer to confront their own reality, to see their own life playing out on the big screen, and most importantly, to ask what fears may be hindering their own experience with love.

This is a movie concerned with that uncomfortable yet pivotal space after love hits a speed-bump, when we let feelings die out in a whimper because it's easy. This is a movie interested in giving shape and voice to love without coddling it. We're a little late for this to be a Valentine's Day excursion, but don't discount this thoughtful meditation on love just yet.
                                                                                         -The Professor