Till: Il coraggio di una madre

It's 1955 Chicago. Mamie Till-Mobley (Danielle Deadwyler) is a widower trying to protect her son Emmett (Jalyn Hall) from everyday racism. She is concerned as Emmett joins relatives in Mississippi for vacation. Sure enough, his interaction with a white woman leads to his lynching.

I don't want to be insensitive, but this movie is not really doing anything new. There isn't much that I didn't know before. It's interesting that they show the whistle. Mostly, I am concentrating on the performance of Danielle Deadwyler and her lost of the Oscar nomination. I've seen all the nominees at this point. I think I can have her replace Michelle Williams. Deadwyler is mostly doing stoic dignity with a couple of big acting scenes. Williams is doing good work, but she's not the lead in the movie. Both are great performers. Deadwyler has the bigger role.

Though certainly not a perfectly crafted film, Till is stuffed with powerhouse performances and scenes that I couldn't take my eyes off of.

Danielle Deadwyler gives potentially the most engrossing, beautifully heart-wrenching performance I have beheld this year. She disappears into the role and becomes the grieving mother who was Mamie Till. She channels all of the proper emotions at all of the proper times. Sorrow, regret, compassion, hope-all of them and more are tangible in this woman as we follow her journey.

What elevates the emotional core of the story even more is the impressive directing. There are impressively long takes and varied shot composition that always appear meticulously planned and crafted for the purpose of highlighting the actors and allowing them to shine, as they all deliver their dialogue with incredible sympathetic power.

I usually don't rant and rave about musical scores, as I find most of them just serviceable. This one deserves recognition. The music is used surprisingly sparingly, never drowning out the human interactions. But when it's heard, it instils both melancholy and hope into the film, which is exactly what the story is ultimately about.

But, like just about every biopic, Till has its issues, though the ones found here are relatively minor.

For one thing, though the long takes are impressive and allow emotions to linger, they're often too long. A great deal of shots linger way longer than they need to, and scenes carry on beyond the time that their point was made. It hurts the pacing considerably.

And while I did admire the script's attempt to include a great deal of real-life characters and plot points for the sake of integrity and uncomfortable honesty, it also hurts the pacing, as quite a few of them inevitably need to be rushed through with little-to-no impact on the larger picture. This is almost always a problem with biopics, which is why I think most of them should have been TV miniseries instead.

Till has a great deal more depth and care put into it than I was expecting, and I applaud its ambitious reach, as it does grasp the vast majority of what it reaches for.

You've seen it all before, but that doesn't make this film a chore, it's important to remember, there was a world without defenders, when murderers roamed free, taking lives with so much glee, all protected by the courts, in Mississippi there was no retort.

The brutal execution of Emmett Till replayed and relayed through an outstanding cast, but none quite as incredible as Danielle Deadwyler's heartfelt performance of the lynched boy's mother who's quest for justice is unsurprisingly quenched, but goes on to form part of the momentum of the time to initiate the changes required in the struggle of the African American (and others) for equality, justice and fairness.

"If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor." Desmond Tutu

"Handle with Care" could have been on the cover of the script for Till, but it wasn't necessary because director Chinonye Chukwu, following her Sundance-winning Clemency, crafts her gentle but powerful depiction of 14-year-old Emmett Till's Mississippi lynching in 1955 and the subsequent trial of two white men. This docudrama not only does justice to the tragedy, but it also shows the death's influence on the 1967 Civil Rights Act.

Mamie Till-Mobley (Danielle Deadwyler in a sure-to-be-Oscar nominated performance) fights to have her son's brutalized body shown to the public, and it was shown, and like the movie itself, unforgettable. The film shoots this struggle in bright color as if to proclaim the horror vividly to the world. While strong black men recoiled from facing down white supremacists, Mamie never backed down in her attempt to bring justice for her son and expose the bigotry that exists even today.

While sometimes the music is heavy-handed and the courtroom drama veers to conventionality, never does the script waver from an even-keeled tempo, that like the Civil Rights Movement itself edges inexorably to success, the only possible outcome when justice is on its side. Although the material may be too emotionally sensitive for some, most will appreciate the unsentimental, unsensational, respectful delivery.

Emmett's famously bloated and disfigured face haunted us almost 70 years ago from the pages of Jet magazine, and it is no less disturbing now in Till. It's just that we have matured enough to face down realism for the greater good of facing down racism.

"We do the best we can." Mamie

One of the year's best movies.

I felt compelled to write a review after reading the one star from another white reviewer. I am white myself, and I couldn't disagree with that reviewer more, Who denounced the Director for her choices and seems to think the white perspective is always the more accurate one. They completely missed the point. This wasn't a story about white racism, this was a story about the power of of a Black mother, and her ability to reach beyond her own tragedy to better the lives of Black people everywhere in this country. This was a celebration of her, as it should be. This was a powerfully executed movie in every respect, and that's all that needs to be said. Well done.