Premature (2019, Rashaad Ernesto Green) (Patreon)

53/100

Instantly drawn in by Ayanna and her friends' rowdy verisimilitude (though as a white dude I can't confidently speak to accuracy, and early on there's a fair bit of high-speed, slang-rich dialogue of which I understood only the gist). Star-cowriter Zora Howard looks a mite too old for high school but nonetheless captures the bookish variety of teenage ebullience; Ayanna is at once very much a part of her crew and set apart from them, suggesting the liminal zone represented in the film's title (which onscreen employs different colors for “pre” and “mature”). Very much enjoyed the romance that follows, too: tender, unstudied, credibly awkward, sexually frank. Director Rashaad Ernesto Green (whose Gun Hill Road I didn't see) alternates between the prosaic and the lyrical to good effect, mostly putting the actors and the script front and center. Alas, the latter takes a nosedive when it's time to toss some serious obstacles along this young couple's road to happiness. Dialogue suddenly becomes turgid and unconvincing—one lengthy argument about art and politics sounds like a thinkpiece that's been divvied up among several characters (though I do like Ayanna's significant silence throughout)—and some very moldy clichés arise, including the good ol' symbolic haircut (which admittedly has more impact when going from box braids to an afro, rather than just the standard Felicity-style chop). The nadir arrives when Ayanna, who's pregnant but hasn't yet told anyone, asks her mother where "that big jar of pickles" is, triggering Mom's dawning look of horrific comprehension. That one I'd thought had gone out with 8-tracks. In short, a movie that's much stronger when action's rising than when it's falling. But I'm still glad to have seen the culturally specific, beautifully modulated soul connection that predominates for a while.