Director Report Card: Julius Onah (2019)

3. Luce

It seems to me that the Sundance Film Festival remains the most prestigious of the big independent film festivals. It's where future Oscar winners and break-out indie hits often first emerge, where careers are made and dreams are broken. A related phenomenon is a movie getting rave responses out of Sundance, a major studio paying big bucks for it, only for the film to open to middling box office. Julius Onah had technically already had his breakout film by 2019, though I can't blame him for wanting to put "The Cloverfield Paradox" behind him. He truly seemed to catch people's attention with "Luce," an adaptation of JC Lee's 2013 stage play. Fantastically received at the festival, NEON picked it up for a wider release. It didn't exactly break through in a big way, not flashy enough to catch the attention of the industry award shows, but it remains a movie people discuss and think of fondly. If nothing else, it established Onah as a director to watch. 

Teenager Luce Edgar has an inspiring story. Born in war-torn Eritrea, he was adopted by Peter and Amy, an upper-class white couple. He's a track star at school, a lauded student, and has been asked to deliver a speech at a presentation. His history teacher, Miss Wilson, confronts Amy with something she finds troubling: When asked to write a paper from the perspective of a historical figure, Luce chose Frantz Fanon, an African revolutionary who believed violence was necessary to overcome colonialism. Wilson also found fireworks in Luce's locker. Peter and Amy are concerned but Luce claims Wilson also singles him out, as a symbol of "black excellence," while tokenizing other members of his class. Luce, while talking with Wilson, seems to subtly threaten her. Amy, meanwhile, gets in touch with a former girlfriend of Luce's, who describes being sexually assaulted while drunk at a party. A series of events unfold, Wilson convinced Luce is playing the people around him to further his personal grudges while Amy grows increasingly unsure of what her son is capable of. 

"Luce" is a film with a lot of ideas on its mind but one of its primary concerns is with the other people perceive us. Luce's story, raised as a child soldier in Africa before being brought over to a wealthy American family and achieving academic and scholastic success, strikes many as inspiring. It's a status the young man seems happy to embrace at first. He's held up as a symbol of the American dream, coming from horrible circumstances to achieve greatness. He's referred to as "Obama" by more than one person. Wilson treats other members of her class in similarly idealistic ways: Stephanie, plagued by rumors of sexual misadventures, is regarded as a female suffering in silence. A friend of Luce's, DeShaun, was thrown off the track team after Wilson found pot in his locker, as the teacher seems to consider him a more standard example of an underachieving youth. As writers, we often create characters as "symbols" of various ideas, representing social woes or philosophical concepts. But real people aren't symbols. They are messy, complicated human beings with conflicting attributes. "Luce" presents a scenario where someone fires back at being elevated to symbol status. 

It goes without saying that race plays a major role in how others are perceived and what they become symbols of. Luce, being a black boy from a poor country and adopted by a white couple, is already well aware of how the color of his skin influences how others see him. Rich white people adopting little black babies from poor countries to call their own and raise in the lap of luxury is a phenomenon covered in difficult social layers, prompting discussion of race and class, of white Americans acting as saviors to anyone deemed less fortunate in order to make themselves seem more progressive. Luce, meanwhile, is culturally perceived as "one of the good ones," someone destined to rise to great status... With the implication being that he overcame the disadvantage of being born brown, poor, and African.

He's an erudite, well spoken young man, knowledgeable about history and culture. This is comparable to DeShaun, who smokes pot and peppers his speech with slang and profanity, whose name seems to be indicative of both his skin color and his standing in society. Luce was not born with that name. His mother couldn't pronounce his African name and he was given Luce – Latin for "light" and exactly the kind of thing a pampered white couple would name their kid – as an alternative. Luce can see through the artificial designations society has given both him and DeShaun. The two black boys are not that different in many ways. Luce enjoys a joint every now and then too. The perceptions other tie to them is what makes them different, what makes one a future Obama and the other a "thug." 

"Luce" could also be short for Lucifer, which brings up another complicated layer in both the film and the character. Throughout, we see Luce easily slip into the persona of a well-spoken young man eager to impress. This has made him a favorite among the school staff, the principal joking around with him in a casual manner at one point. The boy is well aware of how others perceive him and is capable of using that perception. Not necessarily for innocent goals either. His seeming admiration for a violent revolutionary suggests he sees force as a way to achieve a goal. When "apologizing" to Wilson, he seems to subtly sneak a threat into his words. He does it again before the end. Throughout the film, there's this mounting fear that Luce is manipulating everyone around him, playing people's bias against each other in order for him to come out on top. There's a word for people like that, who see others as mere tools to control and only cares about his own success: A sociopath, a highly mythologized term that nonetheless accurately describes a personality type we've all encountered or seen in office. 

Miss Wilson seems to be the only person, at first, capable of seeing Luce as a manipulative, dangerous person. After a humiliating day, Wilson comes home to find a racial slur written on her house. She accuses Luce of doing this but nobody else can imagine such a shining star student being capable of such a thing... At first anyway. When presented with the concerning history paper, Amy is fast to defend her son. This is what a mother does. However, as the story goes on, as she sees more of what exactly her son can do, Amy begins to have doubts about Luce herself. Peter is more willing to see their son's sinister side. Ultimately, his wife says it's their job as parents to defend their son while being unable to suppress her own fears. Who is the true Luce then? The popular, successful, intelligent young man that the principal and most of the other students? Stephanie sees Luce as a kind person who only wants what is best for her. Wilson believes Luce is smart and capable enough to play games with others. Amy wants to protect her son, still seeing him as her beloved baby boy. She asks Peter at one point which side he's on. Which is what it often comes down to. We choose which perception of someone is personally true for us, which one is "real."  

Of course, the perception of people is not only formed by their friends and loved ones. Society does it too. Miss Wilson has a mentally ill sister that lives with her. She comes to the school, having a meltdown, stripping off her clothes. She screams at Wilson, accusing her of thinking she comes from a better racial class then her. The white students whip out cell phones and record the public breakdown, happy to provide another example for the stereotype of black people as mentally instable. Near the film's end, Luce confronts Wilson at her home and she explains how she feels her singling him out is justified, that people of color must be extraordinary to overcome the limitations the culture has imposed on them. Luce objects to being made an example or a spectacle, Wilson arguing that he has no choice in the matter. If the versions of us that exists in other people's heads are as valid as any other, then the effect race and status play in forming that perception can't be overlooked.

The contrasts and complications of how we might be perceived versus the people we might actually be is something “Luce,” as a film, is willingly playing with. The musical score is often sparse, adding to the sense of chilly tension in the film. Whenever it seems Luce is up to something devious, a rap style beat with rough vocalizations plays. It's as if the film is intentionally baiting the audience, asking us to consider whether this upstanding young black man is, in fact, prone to the violence that “super-predators” like him have been accused of. Stephanie is a young Asian girl, the kind of figure that is culturally shown as vulnerable and exploited. Luce has her intentionally playing up that element of her appearance as part of his final scheme, another way the movie is pushing some buttons very intentionally in order to make us question our beliefs and preconceived notions on how we look at someone.

Julius Onah clearly has a personal investment in this story. He is an immigrant too, born in Nigeria, lived all the over the world, and settled in the United States. “The Girl Is in Trouble” and several of his short films touched on this subject too. Something pointed Luce says is that, as an immigrant from a war torn country, he feels like he only has two options of what he can grow up to be: Either a monster or a hero. The film intentionally has him existing between both of these poles, showing a number of unsettling personality traits while outwardly achieving a lot. In this context, we can't see his apparent sociopathy as anything but a reaction to the pressures of being from a foreign country. You either exceed the expectations society puts on you or you play right into them. Onah is clearly reflecting on some of his very personal frustrations through the film's story.

The director brings some of his other trademarks with him. The usage of cell phones throughout the film show a continued interest in technology, in the way it has changed how we communicate.  Mostly, Onah and cinematographer Larkin Seiple shoot “Luce” like it's a horror movie. They often place characters apart from each other, between the foreground and background, as if to emphasize a predatory distance between them. There's a coldness to the color palette, the interiors shadowy and haunted, that adds to a disquieting atmosphere. The camera often peeks into lockets or at desk, creating an alien and inhuman feeling in this setting, further adding to that chilly tension. Save for a moment or two, “Luce” stubbornly refuses to alleviate the suspense it creates, the unsettling questions and uncertainties the film raises lingering with the viewer long after the movie ends. The clearly cinematic style also helps the film escape its stage-bound roots, helping the audience overlook that most of the movie is made up of people sitting around and talking in rooms.

Holding “Luce” totally together is an excellent cast. Kelvin Harrison Jr. gives what should be a star-making performance in the title role. Harrison is especially good at hinting at the darker capabilities of Luce while also putting on an outwardly inviting appearance. His ability to control his exterior, and his awareness of how that effects people, because very clear in one of the final scenes of the movie. Harrison swinging so easily between such convincing poles is chilling. Naomi Watts, without going into histrionics, does a strong job of showing the conflicted emotions she is feeling. Amy goes through the wringer, still loving her son despite the suspicions she has about him. Tim Roth is more caustic, as you'd expect from him, though he makes every line count. Octavia Spencer, as Miss Wilson, says a lot with a single look or glance, suggesting the frustration and anger she is feeling under the surface. 

”Luce” is a movie clearly without a lot of complicated ideas on its mind, approaching thorny issues in a thoughtful way that doesn't rob them of their power. Race, class, and self are discussed without turning the story into a boring lecture, the film often operating as a tense thriller in its own right. It's the kind of movie that is perhaps a bit too proud of its own boldness. There are several moments where it seems to be pontificating. I suppose that is an unavoidable aspect of the material being adapted from the stage, where standing before an audience and saying your piece is kind of expected. Nevertheless, it unfolds in a tense and disturbing manner, powered by some damn fine performances. It's clear that this is the kind of material that Julius Onah excels at and I hope he gets to make more movies like this someday. [Grade: B+]