Writer/director Barry Jenkins announced himself as a major filmmaker with his second film, 2016’s Moonlight, which won three Oscars, including Best Picture. His follow-up, If Beale Street Could Talk, is already notable as it marks the first American fiction film adaptation of any of author James Baldwin’s works.
The film centers on Fonny (Stephan James) and Tish (Kiki Layne), a young couple who live in Harlem in the 1970s. It is at once timeless and timely, as it follows both their ever-evolving romance, one which grew out a friendship as kids, and the journey of a now-pregnant Tish trying to get Fonny out of prison after he is falsely accused of rape.
For support, Tish leans on her family, including her mother, Sharon (Regina King), father, Joseph (Colman Domingo), and sister, Ernestine (Teyonah Parris). The film alternates between pre- and post-imprisonment scenes, demonstrating the depths of the love between Fonny and Tish, as well as the profound injustice of his arrest.
While the film certainly does not shy away from social commentary, especially when Jenkins inserts pointed real-life examples of racism at work, it is highly effective when it comes to the romance side of things. Jenkins gives Fonny and Tish’s relationship plenty of time to breathe outside of the context of Fonny being in prison, and their bond is rightfully swoon-worthy.
Providing Tish with a fiercely supportive and protective family gives the post-imprisonment portion of the film its oomph. Whether it’s confronting Fonny’s family, trying to track down Fonny’s accuser, or doing whatever it takes to make money to pay for a lawyer, the family is always there for Tish and Fonny, giving the story additional emotional heft.
One puzzling aspect of the film is the casting of relatively well-known actors in the film’s few white roles. When Finn Wittrock pops up as a lawyer helping the family or Dave Franco as a Jewish landlord, each actor’s individual presence removes the focus from the story at hand. Casting character actors might have served those particular roles better.
On the flip side is a mesmerizing appearance by Brian Tyree Henry. Coming midway through the film, his role is as memorable as they come. Playing Daniel, an old friend of Fonny who has recently gotten out of prison, Henry goes from joyous to heartbreaking in 12 short minutes, encapsulating the film perfectly.
The film starts to drag in its final 20 minutes, suggesting that Jenkins should have cut down the film a bit more. But the strength of the performances by James, Layne, King, and more keep it from bottoming out, as does the underlying dramatic tension of whether or not Fonny will ever get out of jail.
While perhaps a slight step down from the sublime Moonlight, If Beale Street Could Talk does nothing to diminish the burgeoning career of Jenkins. He and other African-American filmmakers continue to shine a light on under-represented people and stories, and the world is better for it.
Kiki Layne and Stephan James in If Beale Street Could Talk.
Photo by Tatum Mangus/Annapurna Pictures
Kiki Layne and Stephan James in If Beale Street Could Talk.
Only in Austin does recording in a tin can create excellent sound. Specifically, this "tin can" is a 1955 Spartan Imperial Mansion trailer, a spacious mobile home converted into a relatively cramped studio. But the unconventional setup is no match for producer and engineer James Westley Essary.
Essary and his videographer brother, Brantley, have been using the space to build up their inner circle of musicians, capturing intimate performances in professional recordings available on YouTube. Live From The Tin Can premiered its second season on April 15, 2024, and is looking forward to a long string of diverse performances to come. Right now listeners can enjoy Ron Gallo, David Ramirez, Vondré, John Calvin Abney, Angel White, and more on the YouTube channel.
First up this season was Worn-Tin (an amazing coincidence of a name), performing "Hard Ease," "Bitter," and "Kid Changed," a pleasantly lackadaisical series of alt-rock romps, somehow squeezing in two drum sets. Worn-Tin, like many other artists this season on the YouTube series, performed live at South by Southwest in March. The festival, along with the concurrent Luck Reunion, brought a wealth of artists to the Live Music Capital, so the Tin Can crew took advantage of the easy scheduling.
"South By's website is actually a great way to find out who was coming into town," says Brantley. "So we started thinking about things like, what is what is their sound like? What is their performance like, and will that translate into our space? ... [We] just started contacting managers: 'Hey, do you have a free morning, free afternoon? Want to come by?' The sessions only take about a couple of hours."
Although the Essarys are hoping to get more national acts into the Tin Can to boost views, their hope is that over time they can narrow their focus back to local artists. (The series premiere featured Austin band Kelly Doyle.) Beyond the view counts, these recordings are mutually beneficial; Artists don't just get exposure, but lasting high-quality recordings for free, and the brothers get to build a portfolio. Westley, who just goes by his second name in conversation, appreciates the stylistic challenge.
Producer and engineer James Westley Essary does the auditory impossible.Photo courtesy of Live From The Tin Can
"I get to create a little calling card, [and] they get a way to push their new record when they're rolling through town and on tour," says Westley. "As you put out records you get pigeonholed ... I want to make a punk record, and I want to make a metal record. I want to make a country record. So it allows me to be able to dabble in whatever I want — whatever we book in the studio."
Making these connections was Westley's main goal in creating the series during the pandemic. It'd been a loose idea at the producer's prior studio, with occasional shoots for social media. As we all remember, 2019 was not famous for its sense of urgency. But when the studio was "sold out from under" Westley in October, he got tired of hopping from one rental to another.
He bought the trailer in December 2019 and spent the following year working on it. The end of his work coincided with Brantley's desire to move back to Austin from Seattle, so the returning brother provided the property to park the trailer on. The rest was good, old-fashioned pandemic restlessness.
The Tin Can in all its metallic glory.Photo courtesy of Live From The Tin Can
"When you're on the road all the time, you're meeting new bands every day, because you have a different opener or something," says Westley. "And I was like, 'How can I bring that to me?' It's a lot of fun when there's not really any money involved. You're not dedicating a ton of time, necessarily, to it. Bands come here, they have a really great time, [and] it's really nice to be able to host them."
Of course, recording in such a small space has its challenges. Most of the solution was in arranging; not the music, but the musicians. Placing everyone just right minimizes the bleed of certain instruments into other microphones, and as long as the singer stays relatively still, the drums — the biggest culprit — mostly keep their sound to themselves.
Some issues are also fixed with slightly quieter playing, unintentionally creating a sort of sonic brand for the series. It's not all bedroom pop, but the combination of a cozy recording environment and slightly restrained volume makes for some homey performances. This also works nicely for Westley — isn't that happening a lot? — who says he usually prefers listening at home to watching in a crowd.
Still, live recordings add a certain spice to the music. Many music fans will attribute it to the organic mystery of musicians clicking together, but Westley thinks there's something else at play. There's no substitute for practice, and by the time musicians are making live recordings, they've probably played the song live dozens or even hundreds of times. That allows for improvements on the original ideas — sometimes ones that originated in the studio at the time of the first recording.
Ron Gallo squeezes into the Tin Can.Still from Live From The Tin Can
It's also an easy way to make additional income without writing more, he says. Brantley points out that live music has always been at the core of the business.
"Live music has been at the top for forever," says Brantley. "Now we've got artists selling out huge arenas. They're competing with the NFL; They're not competing with movies or TV as much anymore. ... So I love the opportunity to not just record live music, but also film it. You're getting a full experience of both the really compelling live recording [and] even more compelling video to watch them in their element — really playing it live rather than just in a box in the studio."
The next frontier for the Tin Can crew will be hosting live shows onsite. Westley will be in the trailer recording while the band plays outside, and eventually Brantley might start capturing video, too. Also down the pipeline are audio-only live recordings, so listeners can enjoy the tunes without relying on YouTube.
One episode featuring NOBRO from Montreal, Quebec, is out now, with more to come. Next up is Evangeline from Los Angeles. Follow along with Live From The Tin Can ("Like and subscribe," says Brantley with a smile) on YouTube.