Watched Feb 21, 2024
This film has only made me like Jon Batiste less and I already had a bad feeling about him. There is a paradox to documentary that often renders the subject too aware for true voyeurism to take place and that’s well and good. However, mitigating that experiential impact isn’t don’t by crafting a documentary in a production style more suited to fictional work. While initially it may seem that the viewer is in store for a rewarding origin story on a misunderstood artist, it becomes apparent that there is no more depth for those paying attention. Contrary to its conceit, Batiste is entirely a performative person, specifically performing for the white gaze. It is evident in the tone and framing of the majority of the film. And, perhaps, that would be expected of the film’s director, Matthew Heineman, given his background as a white man from Darien, Connecticut. Overall, this film is like an overly saccharine and chalky icing on top of a dry, vanilla cake.