Exhibiting Forgiveness, 2024.
Written and Directed by Titus Kaphar.
Starring André Holland, Andra Day, John Earl Jelks, Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor, Matthew Elam, G.L. McQueary, Chip Carriere, Ian Foreman, Tia Dionne Hodge, Daniel Michael Barriere, Jaime Ray Newman, Peter Van Wagner, Tony Torn, Cindy Jackson, and Justin Hofstad.
SYNOPSIS:
A Black artist on the path to success is derailed by an unexpected visit from his estranged father, a recovering addict desperate to reconcile. Together, they struggle and learn that forgetting might be a greater challenge than forgiving.
Religion is frequently mentioned in writer/director Titus Kaphar’s (also a sculptor and artist making his debut feature here) Exhibiting Forgiveness, the usual phony passages about redemption and forgiving others for the harshest sins in relation to the word of God. Mind you, very little about the film itself feels fake. The point is that for a good portion of its roughly 2-hour running time, one wonders if Exhibiting Forgiveness is going to fall in line with that biblical preaching and end on an optimistic, crowd-pleasing moment that feels false but encourages people to, well, forgive unthinkable actions. I’m not going to spoil the ending, but such a conclusion would have driven me nuts, especially given what has happened to some of these characters in the past.
The title has two meanings; the first is in the literal sense, whereas the second comes from the fact that, much like the filmmaker, André Holland’s Tarrell is a successful artist with paintings scattered about that he’s not quite sure what to do with yet. On the surface, they don’t seem personal, but we naturally come to understand their significance as more details about him are revealed in the present and past.
Considering that Titus Kaphar is an artist himself, it’s safe to say that the portraits themselves are striking and beautiful to look at, typically depicting normal suburban life and mundane actions such as lawnmowing. They are so vibrantly and exquisitely crafted that it’s somewhat of a shame the film abandons that aspect somewhat as it leans into dysfunctional family drama following Tarrell reconnecting with his abusive former crack addict father La’Ron (a bracingly precise, powerful turn from John Earl Jelks.) It’s also a questionable choice to cast Andra Day as Tarrell’s musically gifted wife but leave her out of the meat of the narrative while not taking full advantage of her skill set as a singer and actor, but she is nevertheless also solid here.
Following a run-in trying to do the right thing and preventing a store robbery, the homeless La’Ron is beaten down with cracked ribs, finding himself showing up at a relative’s home. The man’s wife wants nothing to do with him, so La’Ron is once again turned away, eventually moving into someone’s basement, where he also follows strict orders to attend church every day and find God. There is an earnest attempt to correct himself here, even if it’s probably far too late.
Around the same time, Tarrell’s mother Joyce (Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor) is arranging to move out of their childhood home, requiring his assistance, causing him to head back there, which understandably escalates the already flood of negative memories plaguing his mind (there are also fragmented glimpses of the horrors he has witnessed that will over time play out in their entirety during flashback sequences.) It’s a bit hokey and one of a few unnecessary melodramatic flourishes here, with one also questioning how crucial the flashbacks are in the first place, especially since there is already a transfixing, riveting segment where La’Ron talks about the past with such vulnerability and pain, that it’s more effective than any segment taking viewers back in time ever could be. Sometimes, talking is better than showing.
Nevertheless, it turns out that Joyce has also called Tarrell home as part of a sneak attack to reconnect him with the potentially changed La’Ron. The aforementioned tormented story from the past comes up in a scintillating interview with the son, documenting his father in an emotionally draining sequence of venting and discomfort. Joyce wants Tarrell to forgive La’Ron, often citing from the Bible. He questions how such a thing is even possible, how she could have forgiven him and given him so many opportunities to change, and as more is revealed about the past, it places Tarrell as the sensible one here. A father himself, Tarrell is justifiably solely focused on breaking the toxic cycle.
However, even with some clichéd plot directions, Exhibiting Forgiveness reaches a point in the dialogue that feels honest, true to these characters, and profound. Tarrell’s art also comes back into the picture, with an exhibit gawked at by white people looking to purchase personal portraits that they have no connection to, a brilliant parallel to how often stories of Black suffering and reconciliation can feel like entertainment to white people disinterested in engaging properly. A stronger film might have expanded on that dynamic more, but this is a powerfully acted drama that, even with the occasional miscue or cloying beat, approaches the concept of forgiveness with proper honesty and messy complexity, refusing to give into religion as the easy way out.
Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★
Robert Kojder is a member of the Chicago Film Critics Association and the Critics Choice Association. He is also the Flickering Myth Reviews Editor. Check here for new reviews, follow my Twitter or Letterboxd, or email me at MetalGearSolid719@gmail.com
