Thoughts on The Birth of a Nation (2016)?

Like all forms of art, films are decided to stimulate, to galvanize, to excite and/or incite, depending on the person. Whether it is to sweep audiences in the grandeur of a technicolor ballroom or an intergalactic siege, or to meditate on stark realities presented in gritty documentaries, cinema is an important tool to spread a message to the masses on an epic scale. Sometimes, the message can be found right in the title. So it is with Nate Parker’s directorial debut: The Birth of a Nation.

Obviously, Parker’s film was designed to provoke heated discussion and controversy even before a frame of it had been screened, especially when we enter the film’s name into evidence. The title hearkens back to the 1915 cinematic epic of the same name, where D.W. Griffith shaped modern movie-making while shamefully wallowing in racist rhetoric. His Birth of a Nation is an important film to be studied for how it pushed technical convention to show what cinema was capable of, but the pro-Klan nature of the story was revolting even by standards of the era (and, indeed, the KKK’s revival in the early 20th century is largely thanks to this film’s popularity). A century later, Parker’s choice in title for his film is far from accidental. He seeks to “reclaim” the title, to use its notoriety as both an accusation of Hollywood’s acquiescence to past injustices as well as to evoke a sense of a “new beginning” in the art-form. And, of course, to present a depiction of history.

America was built on a foundation of blood and misery; James Ellroy once wrote that our great nation was never innocent. And that ethos is the crux of Parker’s film—the evils wrought by slavery were ingrained into our culture generations before the birth of Nat Turner, the black preacher who used his words and faith to kickstart a rebellion in Virginia in the 1830s. Where most films feature slaves suffering in quiet dignity, Parker portrays Turner’s revolt as a paragon of Old Testament justice and retribution. Birth of a Nation is a bloody affair, though on the spectrum of recent slave sojourns it falls somewhere between the clinical detachment of Steve McQueen’s 12 Years a Slave and the gory ejaculations Quentin Tarantino made his mainstay in Django Unchained.
Parker wore many hats in the making of this film: writer, producer, director, star. On paper it reads like a vanity project, although there is almost nothing showy about his work as an actor here. Parker anchors the film by refraining from playing Turner as anything other than a modest man, a youth who grew up on a plantation and witnessed the oppression of his people firsthand. In the first scene, when Nat is just a kid, he sees his father (Dwight Henry) accidentally kill a white man and flee from a surefire lynching. He sees the way that his brightness and aptitude for learning is curbed by a prevailing fear among his masters that he might begin to question his place in the world. Even his master’s son (Armie Hammer), whom he frolics with as a child, grows up into an alcoholic reprobate who treats his former friend like chattel.

Turner, who was driven to the Bible in lieu of the more “off-limits” books in the plantation study, becomes an adept preacher, and other slaveowners in the county see him as a potential tool to calm the rabble-rousing and insolence they find in their property. Turner initially seeks to use the word of God to inspire faith and love, but soon he becomes disenchanted with some of the horrific untruths he is forced to spew in front of his masters. He begins to realize that there is just as much in the Good Book that drives the reader to think of insurrection and freedom. While these thoughts percolate, Nat becomes enamored of Cherry Ann (Aja Naomi King), a new slave to the plantation. It is an atrocity visited upon her that really sets the powderkeg alight that will, in turn, erupt into full-fledged violence.

Parker saves most of his firebrand sizzle for behind the camera. The direction of the film feels a little less confident than one would expect from a film of this scale, and indeed some of the imagery—while wonderfully shot—can seem a bit derivative, less inventive. Clearly, Parker must’ve studied long on films like Braveheart and Apocalypto (to the point that this film feels almost like the lost first film of Mel Gibson), and while there are riveting sequences that are adeptly staged and shot, it feels like there are bolder moves he could’ve made here and there. Certainly, by the time the rebellion occurs, we are ready to see a good hour of bloody justice being doled out . . . but then the film just sort of peters out, and while the last scenes do pack a great visual wallop, the punches feel unjustly pulled at the last second. The timing was perfect for a film to be made with this message, but perhaps it came at the wrong time in Parker’s career. He’s tenacious and fearless, and the film benefits from that energy, but it needed some fine-tuning that a couple of films under his belt would’ve given him.

This isn’t to say The Birth of a Nation doesn’t excel in other arenas. The performances, while hardly flashy, are uniformly reliable and never really feel out of touch with each other. Parker and King have an instant rapport that blossoms wonderfully, even if the script can only touch on their dynamic so much in the runtime the film presents. Hammer coaxes a surprising amount of humanity the debauched scion of a respected plantation owner whose farm falls into disrepair when he takes over, and he makes us wonder if his boozing is the result of self-loathing at the generation-instilled societal ills he continues to perpetrate. There are a number of recognizable character actors peppered throughout, playing slaves and slavers alike (Jackie Earle Haley plays perhaps the most virulently despicable character in the film, and he sells his role’s malignancy perfectly). The cinematography offers some truly glorious shots (if a little highfalutin at times), and the soundtrack provides an earthy undercurrent.

With all of the controversy directed at Nate Parker now, it’s hard to separate the art from the artist. When one analyzes a creative’s work, it becomes a nigh-Herculean task to divorce yourself from whatever is in the ether. Certainly, the brouhaha surrounding Parker has affected the film itself, with multitudes proclaiming that they refuse to pay to see it. (I was one of only three people in my screening.) Certainly, much of the controversy is justified and I have given my thoughts in length on it elsewhere. But in terms of The Birth of a Nation, I do think that the scandals have blemished a film that, while flawed, nevertheless belts out a strong message that resonates with great gusto in today’s climate. Is it fair? Depends on who you ask. I do think that the film should be seen, though the method of doing so is entirely up to you.