This Month in Indie: The Last Black Man in San Francisco
*This is the first installment in Sabrina’s new monthly editorial series geared towards making independent films more approachable for the average moviegoer. Sound off (respectfully) in the comments below and enjoy! Spoilers ahead.*
Winner of the US Dramatic Director Award and the Special Jury Award for Creator Collaboration at Sundance Film Festival this year, first-time feature director Joe Talbot provides a fresh take on the Black experience with The Last Black Man in San Francisco. Set in the present-day, this film offers viewers an opportunity to understand the impact a changing economy can have on a major city’s infrastructure and vibrant culture, for the better and for the worse.
The Last Black Man in San Francisco tells the story of Jimmie Fails, who plays himself in this adaptation of him and his best friend Mont (Jonathan Majors) trying to reclaim his grandfather’s home in the newly-white, hipster city. I found this film to be truly stunning and by taking a look at various technical aspects, we can see how that came to be.
Plot and Story
The term “pacing” is one that some might encounter frequently when reading or listening to film reviews. Many critics use it when mentioning the rhythm of a single scene or of a film as a whole. I will be using this term to refer to the amount of time occurring between major plot points in the film and how that affects the film’s overall rhythm.
Another key piece to understanding pacing is the standard three-act structure of screenwriting. The first act will usually feature a strong setup such that the film’s main character(s), often referred to as protagonists, are firmly personalized and able to be delineated from the others. The second act involves complications and trials for the protagonist(s), opportunities for them to truly prove who they are, then confirming and (hopefully) strengthening the character work put into their setup. The trials they endure then allow them to learn various lessons that they are supposed to be putting into practice by the end of this act. The third act finally offers the last chance for the protagonist(s) to prove that they’ve learned important life lessons that will help them be better in the future.
The Last Black Man in San Francisco is paced relatively naturally such that the audience can grow alongside Jimmie. When the film opens, he and Mont are headed to the family home in the city so that Jimmie can do repairs on the house while Mont keeps watch. By this point, my heart began to race, hoping that the elder white homeowners wouldn’t show up and begin harassing him for taking care of his childhood home in the ways they wouldn’t; but alas, this is exactly what happens. The homeowners throw croissants at him and attempt to discourage him from coming back (again) by calmly talking him down from his ladder. Much to their chagrin, Jimmie continues to return to their home, unable to detach himself from his childhood nostalgia. It’s this theme of nostalgia that propels Jimmie throughout the majority of the film, preventing him from becoming closer to his father and from even knowing his mother at all.
By the film’s second act — around the time he moves back into the home temporarily — Jimmie is fully motivated by his need to reconstruct his childhood memories. He takes Mont with him to visit his aunt (Tichina Arnold) and collects all of his grandfather’s old furniture and decor in an attempt to restore the home in the way he remembers. By the end of this act, Jimmie is begging the bank’s loan officer for anything he could possibly give him, even the highest of interest rates, so he can try to buy back the home. This decision is something that ought to render the audience as being completely in character for Jimmie, considering all of the physical labor he put himself through to get there. There again proves the consistency of the theme: the desire for San Francisco to return to its multicultural roots despite its quick economic upturn in favor of the growing wealth gap.
It’s not until the film’s final act, when Mont puts on his play titled The Last Black Man in San Francisco, that Jimmie’s lust for innocence is ruined. Though throughout the entire film Jimmie and his family posit that Jimmie Fails Sr. had built the home with his bare hands, it’s Mont’s determination to help his friend get back the house from the local realtor (Finn Wittrock) that bursts this bubble, revealing that the home had been built by an architect about 100 years prior to the Fails’ moving in. Though Jimmie (apparently) knew this all along, he admits that he wanted so badly for the story of his grandfather building it from the ground up to be true that he repeated it to himself and to everyone — like the Segway tour group whose leader recited the home’s 1850 build date with similar confidence.
I found that very final turning point, or climax, to be a little underwhelming despite my consistent tears throughout most of the third act. Debunking the Fails’ home mystery was the least of my concerns when the film had also presented the strained relationship between Jimmie and his mother that was never again revisited. All of the steps Jimmie takes to get the house back reaffirm his love for his childhood while also straining his relationship with Mont, a quirky playwright who would do *anything* for his best friend and who doesn’t even get a goodbye after all he did — UNFAIR. The film ends with Jimmie rowing underneath the Golden Gate Bridge, presumably feeling as though there is little left for him in a city that has been completely remodeled and left ridden with the unattended growing homeless population and opioid crisis.
Overall, The Last Black Man in San Francisco tells a simple story that gives ample room for the audience to grow quite close to Jimmie and build an emotional connection to all that he’s trying to achieve. Its plot points are spaced out well enough to feel as though we are living each day with Jimmie and Mont, making its pacing quite well-done. Main critiques come from Mont’s living as a side story to Jimmie and a lack of additional activity on Jimmie’s part, aside from the single scene that features him helping at a senior living center, to prove his willingness to work his life away to keep the home. I give this film’s plot and story an 8.7/10.
Visuals: Photography, Editing, and Production Design
The beauty in this film comes from all of the visuals aiding its relatively bare plot. Fails and Talbot team up with experienced director of photography and cinematographer, Adam Newport-Berra to pull off the signature A24 style the indie film community has come to appreciate. A24, production company and distributor of this film as well as a wealth of other indie films from the past 7 years, has built their brand on churning out quality content like Moonlight, The Florida Project, and Spring Breakers, making The Last Black Man in San Francisco no surprise choice.
Newport-Berra employs a wealth of slow pulls outward to reveal the remainder of several scenes, strengthening the emotional connection the audience begins to develop from the opening shot of the little Black girl with the lollipop. This effect also helps to visually situate the audience in the greater scenery of the underappreciated hills of San Francisco that some might last remember from Ant-Man and the Wasp.
This film features warmer tones that well-suit the darker skin colors that take the forefront in this story while also using surrounding images as a strong frame to bolster its point about the city’s changing pace. Jimmie travels around the city on his skateboard, one that his aunt helped him pick out when he was younger, giving the audience a front-row seat to that which Fails, Talbot and Newport-Berra wish to show them.
In the first ten minutes, we are taken from the distant suburbs into the city to the Victorian-style home on Golden Gate as Jimmie and Mont skate past polluted waters, drug deals, hipster coffee shops, and the growing homeless population. These visuals take little to no effort to truly characterize such a large and colorful city, displaying its million-dollar homes next to streakers sprinting down the street to catch up to the two boys all before depositing the audience in front of the main event: the Fails’ old home.
Over the course of the entire film, the true beauty of the estate is slowly revealed, each of its rooms holding another memory for Jimmie. For the first act, the exterior with its white mixed paneling, red trim around its bay windows, gold detailing, and witch hat serves as the main setting, supporting Jimmie’s argument that it needs love and care — which its current owners aren’t providing. When they break into the house after that family moves out, the light passes through the stained-glass window revealing a rich, darker wood, thick columns, and eccentric crown molding, proving the personality and homeliness for which Jimmie spent the better part of his young life pining. When the boys load in the old furniture, the home takes even more shape as they crack open old hiding places and take advantage of the dust-filled built-in organ, truly making it their own, especially when using the previous owners’ new steam room as the perfect place to hotbox.
The power of the simple and more angular shots helps to keep the audience’s attention on what matters in each scene, careful to not overwhelm them with the personality of any one location. Slower pans in all directions do the same, trading quick cuts that punctuate more quirky Wes Anderson-style films for longer, more established moments that allow for the emotional weight to set in as intended. Favoring lower angles in close-ups puts the audience on the same level as Jimmie’s childlike sensibility toward achieving his goal, leaving little room for eyes to wander anywhere else. Talbot’s visual take on Fails’ emotionally complex story supports the narrative in a way that gives many a chance to relate. I give this film’s visuals a 10/10.
Music and Sound
I’ll keep this section the shortest, especially because Pitchfork has already written a pretty captivating article explaining the impact this film’s soundtrack has on building out San Francisco’s hipster identity.
What stuck out to me the most, however, is the abundance of ambient noise in lieu of a constant, lull of a film score to which most might be accustomed. The passing trolleys, skateboard wheels, and hearty laughter are music enough to fill the space between dialogue, making the entire experience that much more realistic. This lack of a consistent score also gives way to a larger appreciation for the moments that do include music, like Michael Marshall’s cover of Scott McKenzie’s “San Francisco (Be Sure to Wear Flowers in Your Hair),” at which point my tears fully flowed. I give the music and sound a 10/10.
Overall, The Last Black Man in San Francisco is an amazing cinematic experience. The fact that Jimmie Fails and Joe Talbot have been collaborating for years and came together to make this film speaks volumes about what understanding Black experiences really looks like, especially when Talbot himself as a fifth-generation San Franciscan could’ve injected other errant moments that didn’t align with the overall theme. I can’t wait to see what either of them do next. Whatever you think or thought of this film is entirely yours, but I truly loved it and would see it again without hesitation and will be purchasing it on Blu-Ray when it’s released. This film receives a total score of 28.7/30 = A+!
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