Matt Ruskin’s Crown Heights (2017) tells the story of gross
injustice inflicted upon Colin Warner, an African-American who spent more than
two decades behind the bars for a murder he didn’t commit. Mr. Ruskin mildly
explores many of the themes of Ava DuVernay’s documentary on the broken
American legal system (titled “13th”) whose righteous fury exposes
the inequities that's only forced upon people of color. While DuVernay provides a
broader overview of how the American justice system boosted up incarceration
rates to turn prison into a thriving industry, Crown Heights tries to portray
one man’s maddening experience of fighting against the apathetic judicial
machine. Aided by nuanced performances from Lakeith Stanfield (Short Term 12)
and Nnamdi Asomugha (also the producer), the movie ought to have been the rich study of a
wronged man’s hard psychological survival. But sadly, an overly streamlined and
hastened script seldom brings the gripping story to life and doesn’t bestow any
deeper insight a documentary or Wikipedia article could do. Nevertheless, Crown
Heights is watchable for the lead performances and Ruskin’s few admirable
directorial touches amidst his scattershot approach to the material.
Crown Heights is based on an hour-long episode in ‘This
American Life’ -- an American weekly public radio show. The
program is said to have provided the detailed sketch of Carl King’s long-time quest for justice to free his wrongly
imprisoned friend Colin Warner (Lakeith Stanfield). The film opens in April 1980 following the
exploits of 18 year old Colin Warner, an immigrant from
Trinidad and now a Brooklyn native. We see him steal a car few minutes into the
movie and it’s hinted that he had committed other small crimes. However, when
the racist NYPD cops force Colin into their car, it’s not for mere stolen
properties. He is arrested for the murder of a young man named Marvin Grant,
gunned down in his neighborhood. Threatened with extradition, the detectives
turn the 15 year old Clarence Lewis (Skylan Brooks) into their stooge to point
out Colin as the killer. Soon, the cops find the real killer Anthony Gibson
(Luke Forbes) but the DA office and cops remains hell-bent to prove a possible
connection between Antony and Colin, wrongly painting Colin as the get-away driver. Despite
the legal aid lawyer’s assurance, the flimsy evidence and a predominately white
jury seems enough to convict Colin and confine him to a maximum security prison
(for 15 yrs to life).
As Colin encounters disturbing violence
within the prison, his childhood best friend Carl King (Nnamdi Asomugha)
does everything he can to exonerate him. They both find out the harsh truth
that the lawyers are willing to put in the bare minimum effort on the case, oft remarking that the judicial system
rarely accepts its mistakes, especially in a murder trial. Carl King’s
unbridled devotion so as to even learn intricacies of the legal process keeps
him from the duties of husband and father. He tirelessly raises money and later
spearheads an unofficial investigation of the crime that landed Colin at
jail. Initially, Colin has a very tough time inside the prison, his rage against
a racist guard brings him bout of solitary confinement. Thanks to strong
support of his friend and newfound lover Antoinette (Natalie Paul) – an old
neighborhood friend – Colin’s momentary desperation gradually vanishes. He
channels his inner rage to study law and excel at GED.
Crown Heights mainly suffers from structural problems which
never whole-heartedly realize the narrative in an intimate, human-scale. There
are quite a few gripping dramatically coherent scenes, yet for the most part,
Matt Ruskin rushes through facts of the story without anchoring a strong
emotional context. Anything that has to do with establishment of the
characters’ inner life is done through pseudo-poetic flashbacks and montages.
In fact, these are so simplistic in its realization that it doesn’t reveal
anything insightful about Colin as a person. We are perpetually kept in the
dark about Colin’s life before the film’s events and hence his character simply
remains as a mirror which reflects miscarriage of justice [or a symbol of
inequitable suffering]. Colin’s recitation of the sad line ‘Please don’t let it be a cell’ [as the imprisoned guy’s vivid
dreams repeatedly culminates with his realization that he is still inside the
cell] would have been more emotionally resonant, had the narrative provided
more depth and texture to the character.
In fact, Ruskin shows the same approach he takes to build up
the facts to establish the human emotions. In a subplot, Colin friendship,
courtship and eventual jailhouse marriage with Antoinette moves hurriedly,
offering only a hazy picture of what brought them together. Earlier, simple
montage shots are employed to showcase Colin’s transition from raging prisoner
to a bookworm. The narrative boasts rich potential to be an inspiring tale of
friendship, but too many subplots, impassioned dialogues, and the hyper-urgency
of the narrative only allows minimal glance at this great friendship. One (if
not only) particular scene which clearly depicts the connection between Colin
and King stands out: when King soulfully laments on his own inner imprisonment
(‘it could have been me’). Even as a film that highlights judicial apathy,
Ruskin’s narrative lacks the poise and profundity, the only thoughtful scene
being the enraging parole debate. Despite such flaws in characterization and
narrative, the performances are the saving grace of Crown Heights. Asomugha, the former NFL star, proves to be a brilliant actor delivering
the much-needed emotional resonance in some stiff scenes. Stanfield does his
very best to explore the character’s conflicted emotions without ever turning
Colin into a selfless martyr. Both these actors instill warm emotions into the
otherwise cold human-interest story. Eventually, in this era of profound
true-crime documentary series, Crown Heights (100 minutes) falls short of
directing its righteous fury to produce a deeply humane story.
Trailer
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