'Queen and Slim' Not for Surface Thinkers

Queen (Jodie Turner-Smith) and Slim (Daniel Kaluuya) in 2019 - “Queen and Slim.”

In its most beautiful simplicity, Queen and Slim has caused so much commotion. The documented plight of black love-struggle, coupled with passionate vulnerability and oxymoronic survival is beautiful in every way.

Writer Lena Waithe and director Melina Matsoukas should pat themselves on the back as they read the conflicting reviews and embrace for days as they pose with their surely forthcoming Academy Awards.

It took me a few days before I was ready to put my thoughts and feelings about this film into print. I wanted to replay it in my innermost personal thoughts for 72 hours. I wanted to do Queen and Slim justice.  

This story is simply how complicated love begins.

Queen (Jodie Turner-Smith) and Slim (Daniel Kaluuya) don’t appear compatible to begin the story and then within the blink of a racist’s eye – they become each other’s lifeline. Their narrative switches from individual focus to the thinking of a unit.

What baffles me are the number of spectators who bought tickets, took their seats in theaters around the country and viewed Queen and Slim like sixth graders handed a graphic organizer when they entered their Language Arts class.

If you didn’t know, you weren’t supposed to assess the plot of this film. Viewers were supposed to feel the intricacies of movement, humiliation and the dichotomy of unspoken endurance that these two black souls embarked upon.

Despite so many box office steals that seek to impress through confusion and mystery, the art of scripted cinema is not synonymous with the art of confusion. Those of us impressed by Queen and Slim were not confused.

We didn’t need him to affectionately adorn her as Queen; neither did we need her to salute him as Slim. We needed to feel their bond be manufactured through unprecedented events. We needed to see her make room for his existence and appreciate his presence. We needed to hear his “I want someone to love me forever - hold my hand and never let go.”

What White and Matsoukas provided for us was an uncomplicated script that shows how external and biased forces tend to intrude upon black experience and concoct tumultuous relationships. The beauty in it all is the functionality of dysfunction – it’s what outsiders hate so much about black people. It is why black people are the most envied and criticized people on earth. With forces specially designed for our dismantling; with whips to our backs; with the stench of brutal death surrounding us; with tears in our eyes – black people move about the world with a subconscious “bring on the next” mentality.

This was real. This was authentic. This needs no reference to the intentional fugitive narrative of Bonnie and Clyde.

Some will focus on the black against black assassination that was all of 30 seconds in the film. Others will shake their heads at the black betrayal that was masked by a foreshadowing three-minute backseat ride over a shared blunt. Only a surface-thinker would take issue with the validity of such script insertions. Just like within any other culture, there are black people who will turn on other black people when faced with pain or financial gain.

Kiss all my scars, but don't remove them. Hold my hand while I remove them myself. 

Admit it or not, the prose-like banter between Queen and Slim spoke to some corner of your romantic soul. The words, tone, inundation of direct desires and passivity of emotions shared – we needed this. We needed to see a black man learn to love a black woman, who perhaps wasn’t created for him. We needed to watch a black woman make room in her heart for a black man who turned out to be everything she never knew she needed. 

So many took to social media after the release this past weekend, posting the film’s cover image and the saying “Will you be my legacy?” For the love of legacy, sometimes you have to analyze between lines that are absent.

Queen and Slim is as enchanting as Jill Scott singing “I really dig your company,” and as hood as Biggie Smalls saying “I swear to God, I hope we fu**ing die together.”  

This was a film we all needed.