Luce (2019)

Review

109min

Genre:    Drama

Director: Julius Onah

Cast:      Kelvin Harrison Jr., Naomi Watts, Octavia Spencer…and more

Writers:  Julius Onah and J.C. Lee

-Synopsis-

A model student and all-star athlete, Luce’s life as an African child refugee turned into an adoptive American teen is flipped upside down when his parents discover a clash between their ideal son and his stern high school teacher, after she uncovers worrying thoughts bubbling under the surface of a carefully cultivated exterior—a tussle of wills and wits which reveals uncomfortable truths, and leads down a dark path . . . changing lives forever.

Based on the J.C. Lee stageplay, which he himself helps to adapt, while also reflective of Nigerian-American director Julius Onah’s own experiences of self identity growing up as an African kid in the US, ‘Luce’ takes aim at middle America and everyone along its political spectrum. Combining a tale of unconventional family and a tense psychological drama, with a sobering but relatable meditation on identity and being black in America, they skilfully deliver a confronting, thought-provoking human drama which keeps you guessing and perhaps squirming—leaving you asking plenty of questions . . . but perhaps not out loud.

Kelvin Harrison Jr. stars as high school senior ‘Luce Edgar’, a former Eritrean child soldier adopted by white middle-class parents ‘Amy’ (Naomi Watts) and ‘Peter’ (Tim Roth), now living an idyllic American life in suburban Virginia as a beloved honour student, star athlete and future valedictorian. But when a class assignment and some troubling discoveries place him in the crosshairs of his no-nonsense history teacher ‘Harriet Wilson’ (Octavia Spencer), an escalating game of cat-and-mouse ensues, putting both their reputations on the line and planting seeds of doubt in the minds of Luce’s adoptive parents, about their son and the family they’ve built—as cultural masks begin to slip and uncomfortable truths about their lives and society at large are revealed.

Considering the paranoid and sensitive social climate in which we live, it’s easy to see why ‘Luce’ is considered a provocative cinematic exercise following its US release. After all this is a dysfunctional family drama centred on two white middle-class liberals adopting and raising a young black African refugee to succeed in the pursuit of the American dream, as it pulls back the curtain on the realities of what that entails, including the film’s central notion of code-switching and the masks people of colour must wear and replace depending on whom they engage with or what ladder needs climbing. Not to mention the recently pervasive and media-fuelled notions of white privilege, cultural double standards, white guilt, stereotypes and the white saviour paradigm. As it pokes a hole in the mask of liberal, middle-class, ‘woke’ white America, while the plot uses sexual assault and gender politics in a way that’s sure to ruffle feathers—all of which might leave many on either side of the socio-political spectrum squirming.

Most importantly ‘Luce’ is designed to provoke thought, pushing the audience to view American and Western culture through a perspective they may have not seriously considered before, encouraging you to accept a certain view without shoving it down your throat . . . but not shying away from some uncomfortable truths either.

Onah is meticulous in translating the hyper-aware, socially conscious core of Lee’s narrative to the big screen, but isn’t derelict in the duty of weaving it into a tense and meandering human drama with thriller tendencies, which keeps the audience guessing throughout. As a result you’re left constantly questioning your perception of Luce’s character, his actions, and his motivation—and whether what unfolds before your very eyes is as it seems.

It all however leads to a slightly underwhelming conclusion which doesn’t push as hard as it could have, and won’t go where we might have hoped, putting aside any illusions of a true thriller and underlining its credentials as a tense human drama instead—wrapping ‘Luce’ up with what is essentially an anti-climactic, albeit restrained and well-delivered sermon. But at least Onah and Lee have the integrity to leave unresolved the moral and ethical intricacies of the story you’ve just witnessed, instead packaging them all up for you to take home and ponder uncomfortably.

For all the subtle daring of the script and the unsettled mood of the narrative, the film’s success hinges on the performances at its heart, with Watts and Roth both solid as the well-meaning but conflicted adoptive parents whose perceptions of the son they’ve raised, the world in which they live, and the family they’ve tried to cultivate are directly challenged by the events which unfold. Meanwhile Octavia Spencer is powerful as ever as the catalyst for the revelatory clash at the centre of the story, with her own imperfect personal life dragged into the mind games and battle of wills against the manipulative Luce—leaving the audience conflicted over with whom to side or sympathise, if not both . . . or neither.

In keeping with its central theme, much of the film’s burden however is shouldered by its young star Kelvin Harrison Jr., whom after impressing in smaller supporting roles in films like ‘Mudbound’ and ‘It Comes at Night’ takes his craft to a new level with a layered and towering turn. Dazzling as a young man who projects an image of intelligent, affable, charming, non-threatening black masculinity, while hiding an icy and manipulative nature underneath—and under that an identity in crisis and personal in turmoil, trying to carry the weight of the world.

‘Luce’ the film and the person ultimately boils down to one distinct perspective on US social structure and being black in America, expressed through the prism of a young man who gets the worst start in life imaginable, having to play this particular game of life with the bum hand supposedly dealt to all people of colour. Transforming himself into the typical American teen and model example of the student body—with both the help and unwitting hindrance of his well-meaning liberal white parents—as he’s placed into social boxes and made the measuring stick for other black students.

All this while struggling to meet expectations and keep the masks needed for the game from slipping, engaging in highly questionable, manipulative and destructive behaviour to keep everything together—forcing the audience to judge what they see along a spectrum ranging from circumstance victimhood to shirked personal responsibility, and between empathising with Luce and judging him harshly, sometimes all at the same time . . . which is perhaps the film’s greatest achievement.

The Bottom Line…

Both a tense human drama portrait of a typical yet unconventional modern American family, and a confronting middle-class mediation on identity, the masks we wear, and being black in America . . . from a distinct perspective—‘Luce’ fizzles without truly setting the screen alight, but leaves the audience with more cultural food-for-thought than they can handle, while keeping us engrossed with a riveting drama which fears no lines . . . but rather tries to re-draw them.

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