Till

After watching the trailer for Till, the new film by Chinonye Chukwu, I was unsure if I wanted to see it. I’m not a big fan of forced inspiration, and the seemingly cherry-picked-for-promotion moments in combination with Lady Bri’s ‘This Will Be The Day’ not only seemed out of sync with the events on which the film is based, but hinted at a term I shudder to use: Oscar-bait. Its synopsis sang a similar tune:

“Till is a profoundly emotional and cinematic film about the true story of Mamie Till Mobley’s relentless pursuit of justice for her 14 year old son, Emmett Till, who, in 1955, was lynched while visiting his cousins in Mississippi. In Mamie’s poignant journey of grief turned to action, we see the universal power of a mother’s ability to change the world.”

Till is indeed about slain 14-year-old Emmett Till and the impact (and inspiration for change) that his murder had on his mother, at the time known as Mamie Till-Bradley, and African American society as a whole. But the slightly hokey premise of “a mother’s ability to change the world” is not something we really see in this film, with much of the progress leading towards the shockingly recent signing of the Emmett Till Antilynching Act taking place after we wrap on the film’s events. This miscommunication might actually be to the film’s advantage, because not only is Till a better film than its trailer suggests, it’s a bloody courageous one at that.

Mamie (Danielle Deadwyler) lives in Chicago where the racism of 1955 is very much existent but hidden behind a thin veil of city civility. All things considered, she has quite an enviable life; her immaculately presented apartment could feature in a decor magazine, she is close with her mother Alma (Whoopi Goldberg) and extended family, she has a great job and a lovely fiance in Gene Mobley (Sean Patrick Thomas) and a son who lights up every room he’s in. Having moved from Mississippi during the Great Migration, she does not overly concern herself with news of the terrible and increasingly prevalent occurrences there, until the day that Emmett ‘Bo’ Till (Jalyn Hall), at the suggestion of his grandmother, decides to visit his cousins and great uncle Moses ‘Preacher’ Wright (John Douglas Thompson) in their hometown of Money.

Bo’s father was killed in the war (the film leaves out his history of abuse towards Mamie and others) so for the majority of his childhood, it has been just the two of them. Having showered Bo with love from the moment he was born, Mamie has created a confident, conscientious young man whose only fault is that he isn’t scared of anything. Having helped him overcome a stutter through song, dance and relentless encouragement, Mamie finds it difficult to instruct Bo on how to behave when he’s in segregated Mississippi. She tells him to “be small” when he’s there; things are different to Chicago and interacting with white people as carefully (and as little) as possible is the key to an uneventful stay. Bo assures her that he will but he’s 14 and naturally accomplished in saying what Mum wants to hear so that he can go do what he wants; as his train leaves the station, Mamie’s eyes swim with tears that translate more than just separation anxiety.

During Bo’s two-week stay, Mamie tries her darndest to occupy herself so that her worry is kept at bay. She plays cards with her friends and recounts tales told to her by Preacher of Bo’s attempts at picking cotton with his cousins. She laughs at the image but struggles to hide her underlying anxiety. She asks Gene if they can go away for a little bit until it’s time for Bo to return. He doesn’t really understand but his commitment to Mamie forces him to acquiesce. But before Bo’s trip is over, an innocent compliment and an ill-judged wolf whistle towards a woman named Carolyn Bryant (a stone faced Hayley Bennett) confirm Mamie’s deepest fears as the two will never reunite.

Mamie describes Bo, even before confirmation of his death, as having been “a perfect baby”. Abel Korzeniowski’s accompanying score in this moment features a subtle but definite ticking that has likely been counting down to tragedy since Bo’s joyful arrival into the world. From the opening on Mamie’s difficult to decipher expression, we learn quickly that her greatest fear is losing this bright, bubbly boy who does not share her distrust of the world. That a child so full of glee and free from concern should be born in this unfortunate time period makes Mamie’s grief that much more heartbreaking, and her wrath that much more justified. When we first meet Mamie, she is a quiet woman who goes out of her way to “be small” even in Chicago, confined to her bubble and content with her lot. We have the privilege of witnessing a change in her through the worst circumstances imaginable, and the pooled creative bravery of Chukwu and Deadwyler to thank for it.

There are moments in Till that push viewer discomfort to exactly where it should be. It’s in Chukwu's refusal to keep Emmett Till’s body obscured and to have cinematographer Bobby Bukowski move the camera above the rail and capture the horror of what has happened to him. Chukwu does not show the violence on screen but we do hear Bo’s pained cries from outside his place of death, and we, like the funeral attendees at his open casket, must see with our own eyes what Mississippi has done to Mamie’s child. Watching Mamie take in her son’s appearance and struggle to reconcile his corpse with the person she knew is one of the most difficult scenes I’ve sat through (even as a horror lover). It’s also one of the most effective ways of making even a fly on the wall feel like they shouldn’t be there; we are invading a highly intimate moment for Mamie but it’s a turning point in her character that is essential to see. Much like Mamie, Chukwu makes the decision to sacrifice dignity for the greater good; here, I think it was the right choice.

Danielle Deadwyler does fantastic work with her portrayal of Mamie, notably in the scene where Bo’s body is returned to her and during interrogation in court, when she allows her facial expressions and carefully chosen intonations to take over in a way that few actors have as much control over. I’m in two minds about Oscar snub outrage; on one hand, who cares about the Oscars, but on the other hand, the recognition is unfortunately pivotal in helping films get attention and find a bigger audience. That Deadwyler did not receive a nomination for her performance in Till is, to use words that best describe the situation, a bit fucked. To take such risks in a film about real and important events by occasionally abandoning naturalism and in doing so, getting to the core of how a grieving mother actually would react, is not only incredibly gutsy but boldly self-assured. 

Till has been a long time coming - 27 years, to be exact - for co-writer Keith Beauchamp, whose extensive research and writings on Emmett Till helped reopen the case in 2004. The screenplay is based on a draft Chukwu previously co-wrote with Beauchamp and producer Michael Reilly, with Emmett Till’s cousin Simeon Wright serving as a consultant until his death. With Bond alum Barbara Broccoli among the long list of producers, it’s encouraging that the film has the backing it deserves. While I somewhat disagree with the original synopsis’ assertion that the film is cinematic, the production design really is spectacular and does a lot of the heavy lifting in establishing the fragile beauty of the era.

Till is brave in a way that won’t be fully understood until you see it. I was pleasantly surprised by the grit and unabashed anger the film displays while also managing to provide a gorgeously stylised vision of a very contradictory time in American history. It deals with heavy material and does not hold your hand through the ordeal, but it does exactly what Mamie Till-Mobley set out to do all those years ago.

Verdict: ☆☆☆☆

Till is in cinemas March 9.