Hello, there! My name is Preston Barta, and I am the features editor of Fresh Fiction and senior film critic at the Denton Record-Chronicle. My cinematic love story began where I was born: off planet on the isolated desert world of the Jakku system. It's there I passed the time scavenging for loose parts with my good friend Rey. One day I found an old film projector and a dusty reel of the 1975 film JAWS. It rocked my world so much that I left my kinfolk in the rearview (I so miss their morning cups of green milk) to pursue my dreams of writing about film. It wasn't long until I met two gents who said they would give me a lift. I can't recall their names, but one was an older man who liked to point a lot and the other was a tall, hairy fella. They got me as far as one of Jupiter's moons where we crossed paths with the U.S.S. Enterprise. Some pointy-eared bastard said I was clear to come aboard. He saw that I was clutching my beloved shark movie and invited me to the "moving pictures room" where he was screening the 1993 film JURASSIC PARK to his crew. He said my life would be much more prosperous if I were familiar with more work by the god named Steven Spielberg. From there, my love for cinema blossomed. Once we reached planet Earth, everything changed. I found the small town of Denton, TX, and was welcomed into the Barta family. They showed me the writings of local film critic Boo Allen. He became my hero and caused me to chase a degree in film and journalism. After my studies at graduate of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, I met some film critics who showed me the ropes and got me into my first press screening: 2011's THE GREEN LANTERN. Don't worry; I recovered just fine. MAD MAX: FURY ROAD was only four years away.
Cole Clay // Film Critic
Let me preface this review by saying it’s difficult to be too hard on Kevin Coster. I’m not sure what it is but I have a soft spot for the guy. He’s got an all-American, boy scout-like quality to his demeanor that allows him to be instantly likable. However, the past couple of years his films have been hum-drum recycled schlock that few rushed to see (exhibit A).
For the racially charged courtroom dramedy BLACK OR WHITE, he’s back collaborating with writer/director Mike Binder (UPSIDE OF ANGER) with Costner on producing duties. It sheepishly approaches the “white elephant” in the room by broadly painting on the canvas of race relations in America.
Rich white guy Elliot Anderson (Costner) has recently lost his wife to a fatal car crash (yeah, it’s sad; moving on), all the while the couple had been caring for their criminally adorable grand-daughter, Eloise (Jillian Estell), after her mother died during child-birth, who just so happens to be… (wait for it)… (you’re gonna love this)… mixed race!
Eloise has trouble understanding the news and once her paternal grand-mother, Rowena (Octavia Spencer), gets wind of this and barrels her way into the picture in an attempt to gain custody of the seven year old with the help of her high-powered attorney brother (Anthony Mackie).
Throughout the charade we’re supposed to be feeling sympathy for Elliot, but his crushing guilt and alcohol dependency begin to take control of his life. Just when you think things couldn’t get any crazier, Eloise’s dead-beat, druggie father Reggie (Andre’ Holland) gets dragged into the mix after being in-and-out of jail and his battle with crack addiction. Both of these men are attempting to cope with two similar forms of substance abuse, or so the script wants you to think. It’s an insulting way of beating it over your head that these two men aren’t so dissimilar.
Binder is handling some heavy material here, yet the direction constantly calls for comedic bits that undercut the gravity of each dramatic beat. Most don’t work aside from a recurring callback where Eloise’s wunderkind math tutor, Duvon (Mpho Koaho), has an insistent need to distribute his resume to the majority of people he encounters.
BLACK OR WHITE is not without a few moments of genuine sentimentality, but the L.A. centered film portrays a cartoonish crack house that’s located right across the street from Rowena’s safe-haven family life couldn’t feel anymore divorced from reality.
The last 45 minutes or so of the 121-minute drama spends time showing how much of a lost cause Reggie is as a stereotypical dead-beat dad, but Binder’s perspective allows Elliot to be a flawed character without cutting Reggie any slack. This becomes Elliot’s journey about curing his white guilt. I don’t get it; Eloise is cast aside for the majority of the second act by becoming a mere pawn in the custody battle.
Costner has one of the best courtroom scenes in the history of film for his work in JFK, and BLACK OR WHITE climaxes with a such scene that’s playful yet earnest attempt to bring the issues to a head. But Costner’s monologue about race is obtuse, albeit delivered with conviction. These types of scenarios only exist in the movies and TV, and BLACK OR WHITE is out of touch with reality. But hey, at least we got to see Costner ham it up with an enchanting little child actor for a few scenes.
BLACK OR WHITE opens tomorrow.