Angie Thomas’ 2017 young adult novel The Hate U Give offered
a complex portrait of race and class issues troubling contemporary America
through a poignant coming-of-age narrative. While YA novels like The Hunger
Games trilogy (by Susanne Collins) reflected on oppressive political power
through the dystopian near-future setting, Angie Thomas eschewed allegorical
notes to directly tackle the violent, abusive reality of racial hatred. The
book was a huge mainstream success (occupied 50 weeks in the New York Times
bestseller list), and it’s fascinating to see a quicker movie adaption and that
too by a major Hollywood studio (Love, Simon was another recent and first of
its kind big-studio narrative to feature a gay lead character). Moreover,
George Tillman Jr.’s smooth adaptation of The Hate U Give highly succeeds
because of the lead actress at its center: Amandla Stenberg (Rue in ‘The Hunger
Games’) in a mesmerizing star-making performance.
Angie Thomas was driven by the gruesome death of 22 year-old
African-American Oscar Grant (subject of heart-wrenching biopic ‘Fruitvale
Station’), shot by Oakland police officer Johannes Mehserle, in order to start writing
her novel. In the next few years, police killings of unarmed black people only
increased in numbers, whereas the trials and conviction of police officers are considerably rare. The Hate U Give smartly presents that righteous fury over other plethora
of injustices inflicted on African-American community which remains frequently
heartfelt and occasionally didactic. The tale also reflects on the fractured
nature of black communities, endlessly mired in drugs and gang violence.
The film opens with 16-year-old Starr Carter’s (Amandla
Stenberg) inner monologue, who chronicles her life as a young black girl from a
working-class, high-crime neighborhood (‘Garden Heights’) and travels across
the city to attend Williamson, a affluent and predominantly white prep school. Starr
talks of her two different identities: the Version 1 means confirming to her
neighborhood’s vernacular and other standards, whereas the Version 2 is all
about acting refined and serious and not ‘intimidating’ white friends with her
blackness. Starr version 2 also has to put up with her white friends’
appropriation of black culture. Once Starr’s conflicting identities and
tentative relationship with white boyfriend Chris (K.J. Apa) are established, the
narrative jumps to a neighborhood party which sets off chain of devastating
events. In the party, Starr meets Khalil (Algee Smith), a childhood friend and
her first crush, who has made some poor decisions in life due to family pressures.
When a confrontation breaks out at the party, Khalil decides
to drive Starr home and even steals a kiss from her. But once the police-car
lights come on, we anticipate the worst. The young, nervous white police
officer mistakes hairbrush for a handgun and shoots down
Khalil. After the senseless murder, Starr begins sees the world for what it is and
her smooth to and fro transition between two identities becomes harder. Much
like the 2014 Ferguson shooting, Khalil’s murder sparks outrage and protests in
the local community. Despite a witness, the killer police man could possibly go
scot-free. And as usual, police and media strive to reduce Khalil into a
uni-dimensional criminal. Starr’s
identity as being the sole witness to the crime isn’t yet revealed to the larger
world. The rest of the narrative is all about Starr agonizing over whether to
take a stand against the despicable crime and judicial cover-up or keep her
head down as always. In due time, Starr’s camaraderie with her school friends
is tested as they are either ignorantly racist or irritatingly callow. At home,
Starr’s father Maverick (Russell Hornby), staying true to his name, encourages
his daughter to be brave. However, mother Lisa (Regina Hall) fears for Starr’s
safety. One visible threat for Starr’s family comes from drug dealing
gangster King (Anthony Mackie), who has got lot to lose if the girl provides the
testimony (in front of grand jury) implicating him.
Similar to this year’s independent features BlacKkKlansman
and Blindspotting, The Hate U Give blisteringly rallies against the
institutional racism. And this being a teen drama with old-school
sentimentality might help the polemical subject matter to reach wider audience.
George Tillman Jr.’s fairly skillful and candid direction (he uses a warmer
color palette for Garden Heights and frigid blue palette for Williamson) stages
each learning moment of Starr Carter with maximum impact. Audrey Wells’ adapted
script contains all the cliched, contrived elements present in the novel. But
for the most part, it keeps alive the simmering tension and breathes in sense
of urgency. The family exchanges are effectively dramatized, observing their
perseverance, anger, and frustration with utmost care. Most importantly, both
the film and novel acknowledges the grey areas (the rampant criminal behavior in black neighborhood)
and deep-seated social ills (poverty, housing, unemployment) rather than being
a simple political slogan. Much of the stirring visuals and scenario are
borrowed from real-life events (for example, Starr throwing a tear gas
canister) which makes trials and tribulations of Starr Carter unmistakably
relevant.
The movie suffers a bit whenever its dramatic stakes are
overly elevated. This could be felt with the whole sub-plot involving Mackie’s
drug lord character. The confrontation between him and Starr’s family infuses
artificiality to the proceedings that contrasts the general tone of lived-in
realism. At times, extra effort is taken to reiterate the messages: for
example, after Starr’s powerful speech over a megaphone in the angry protests, a
mawkish scenario follows in order to once again remind us of Tupac Shakur’s
acronym THUG LIFE (The Hate U Give Little Infants F**ks Everybody). Nevertheless,
the narrative shines while accounting how Starr’s double life reality collides
with one another. There’s a brilliant reactionary scene whens she harshly
reprimands (with a hairbrush) her so-called progressive white friend, who can’t
perceive an issue past her own racial, class blind spots. Chris, Starr’s
boyfriend, although starts off as a caricature of clumsy white teenager, is
given some space to develop into a real character. Of course, the emboldening
aspect of the film is clearly Amandla Stenberg’s illuminating presence. She
splendidly charts Starr’s transformation into a self-possessed girl while
gracefully tackling wide range of emotions: love, shock, grief, fear, anger, and
tenacity. Altogether, The Hate U Give (128 minutes) is a melodramatic yet an
intricate YA narrative about America’s incessant racial strife.
Trailer
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