Passing Review: A Somber Yet Compassionate Look at Racial Identity

A sickened rage and psychological nuance courses through every meticulously arranged frame of the film.

Passing
Photo: Netflix

Coursing through every meticulously arranged frame of Rebecca Hall’s feature-length directorial debut, Passing, is a kind of sickened rage and psychological nuance that sets it apart from your average high-minded period film about race. In adapting Nella Larsen’s 1929 Harlem Renaissance novel of the same name, Hall follows the author’s lead by depicting not so much the blatant prejudices of the time’s stifling racial barriers but the punishing wounds often self-inflicted by those who tried to cross those barriers.

Irene (Tessa Thompson) is a black Harlem homemaker who gets more than she bargained for when she tries to pass for white. Walking into a grand hotel that wouldn’t serve her if any of the staff identified her as black, she sits down for a civilized tea only to catch the eye of Clare (Ruth Negga), a childhood friend who’s been passing for many years, married to a white husband who doesn’t realize she’s black. They share confidences but keep their guard up, like rival spies in enemy territory feeling the other out. When the two run into Clare’s husband, John (Alexander Skarsgård), he makes his opinions clear with a racial epithet, leading to a charged moment in which it seems that Irene might let Clare’s secret slip, just to spite him.

On the surface, Irene appears to have more than most women of her time. A paragon of middle-class success, she shares a Harlem brownstone with her doctor husband, Brian (Andre Holland), and their two boys. When Clare shows up unexpectedly at her doorstep and insists on rekindling their friendship, one might expect that Irene would revel in the opportunity to show off her status. But, instead, she’s riddled with angst, doubt, and fear—a sense of disconnection that’s richly captured by Eduard Grau’s soft, dreamlike black-and-white cinematography. Prior to meeting Clare, Irene’s malaise may have been routine bourgeois anomie, but afterward her mood appears uniformly bleak, as though she has been reminded of something she had long tried to ignore. It’s a delicate dance for Thompson, pivoting between pride and self-loathing, but it’s one she executes with grace and high-wire flair.

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Once Clare is back in Irene’s life, Passing starts to resemble a domestic drama, with Irene increasingly jealous over the attention that her besotted boys and husband pay to her old friend. Given a full dose of anything-goes flapper insouciance by Negga, Clare comes across like a Roaring Twenties caricature straight out of Vogue, dancing the night away while sipping bootleg booze out of flask; all she’s missing is feathers in her headband and a sporty motorcar. As Irene, Clare, and Brian take in the pleasures of Harlem nightlife, Irene cannot quite fully enjoy any of it. The only time she comes alive is while arguing with Brian about his insistence on teaching the children about the evils of racism or sparring with platonic flirtatiousness with Hugh (Bill Camp), an aristocratically pompous white friend who likes to hang out in Harlem as though on an expedition. Answering Hugh’s question about why Clare is out dancing in a black club, Irene retorts, “Same reason you’re here, to see Negroes.”

While hitting a couple moments somewhat on the nose—such as the scene in which Irene says, “We’re all passing for something or other”—Hall’s screenplay mostly avoids over-simplifying the conundrums that its characters find themselves in. Even when Passing takes an inevitably tragic turn, rather than indulging in old clichés about what happened when characters crossed what was then called “the race line,” it leaves room for ambiguity and humanity, precisely the things that the racist rules of 1920s America attempted to eradicate.

Score: 
 Cast: Tessa Thompson, Ruth Negga, André Holland, Alexander Skarsgård, Bill Camp, Gbenga Akinnagbe, Antoinette Crowe-Legacy, Ashley Ware Jenkins  Director: Rebecca Hall  Screenwriter: Rebecca Hall  Distributor: Netflix  Running Time: 98 min  Rating: NR  Year: 2021

Chris Barsanti

Chris Barsanti has written for the Chicago Tribune, Minneapolis Star-Tribune, Publishers Weekly, and other publications. He is a member of the National Book Critics Circle and Online Film Critics Society.

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