THE FORTY-YEAR-OLD-VERSION Review
Another movie about New York artists stressed out about their lives? And it’s in black and white?! No, WAIT! Before you decide to switch over to that episode of THE OFFICE where Michael falls into the koi pond for the 321st time, I think you should give this particular depiction of comedic mid-life crisis a chance.
Despite its spoofy/punny title, THE FORTY-YEAR-OLD VERSION is a nice, little slice of film about yes, a struggling New York artist, and yes, it is shot in black and white like some of those indie darlings you’ve heard your film buff friend rave about, but this work from writer/director/former playwright Radha Blank uncovers a breath of fresh air in the little tweaks it makes to a well worn genre. Playing more or less a fictionalized version of herself, Ms. Blank stands out from other stars of the genre as a middle aged, woman of color who looks, well, not like a superstar. In fact, for better or worse, Radha (the character) is kind of a mess, but you know, a lovable one. She’s an artist, a playwright to be exact, and at one point she was relatively successful, garnering acclaim as an artist on the rise but time has passed and Radha only feels things slipping away from her as she struggles to find connection with her new work amid time spent as a drama teacher for a couple of diverse youths at a local community center.
Even as she latches onto a tantalizing idea for a play centered around gentrification, Radha immediately faces challenges both personally and professionally as she not only tries to get her play off with ground without compromising her vision for a wider (and whiter) audience, but also deal with the recent death of her own artistic mother. However, in the midst of this not quite mid-life crisis, something strange happens…Radha hears rap music and one day just begins to spit out some verses. Even stranger, she’s not half bad at it! As a result, Radha begins to dive into the world of writing and performing rap songs with the help of a local producer, the perpetually chill, D (Oswin Benjamin). As the fictional Radha begins to explore her new areas of talent, the filmmaker Radha follows in suit, displaying a personal, yet always humorous tale of self-discovery that a heralds a promising new voice to the film scene.
Unsurprisingly, where THE FORTY-YEAR-OLD VERSION thrives is in the gleaming realness that Ms. Blank instills her story with. As a playwright herself who found acclaim in her early years, Blank’s film works better than most “struggling midlife artist” movies because it feels authentic and moves with a refreshing casualness. Even as Blank makes room for zingers and jokes derived from the daily issues a near middle aged black woman faces everyday, whether that be casual male passive aggressiveness, subtle racism, or even the terrifying problem of finding your own true purpose in life, the filmmaker never loses sight of the heart at the center of her tale: herself. Now while I’m not a New York-dwelling, older black woman myself, I always appreciate when a film like THE FORTY-YEAR-OLD VERSION can effortlessly display some of the common human foibles we all go through. As an actor, Blank does more than an admirable job in her self portrayal as she juggles the comedic and dramatic with ease, bringing to life the strange and turbulent journey of self-discovery with all its painful lows and boisterous highs. The other supporting actors bring the right energy (and occasional whiff of depth) to their slightly stereotypic roles too, but Mr. Benjamin stands out from the group as Radha’s fictional anchor, a quietly determined young man aiming for stars just as bright as Radha’s. While their relationship develops in some unexpected and refreshing ways, I couldn’t quite shake the feeling these developments don’t always mesh with the realism that Blank tries to nurture throughout her film.
To that point, where Blank’s film stumbles a bit is in the little, but at times, crucial observations that inhabit her story. As a writer, Blank notches excellent scenes that breathe with authentic life but there are other moments where Blank delves into more mainstream comedy tendencies such as with the aforementioned handful of stereotypical side characters and story moments that are just a few turns away from being sappy. Just as with Clea DuVall’s HAPPIEST SEASON, it’s great to see underrepresented groups of people get their shine in films that gleefully operate like a mainstream movie, clichés and all, but even so, a cliché or unnecessarily dramatic story turn is still just that and feels like an easy out for Blank’s tale at points. Additionally, and this is more of a personal quibble as a someone who is a somewhat intensive listener to rap music, Blank’s view towards certain sub-genres of rap music come off as entitled and pretentious which kind of sours the air of her character’s interactions with her dabbling in the form. That being said, it’s nice to see rap get some solid coverage in a fictional film, nicely displaying the freedom that the art allows, and for the most part — except a cheesy finale that proves once again that one shouldn’t end their film with a scene where someone raps the film’s themes to the audience — Ms. Blank does a good job spitting some solid verses.
Just as she does on the mic, Radha Blank makes one hell of an impression as a filmmaker. While she relies a little too much on some easy or unoriginal character actions, it’s hard to deny that Blank doesn’t know what and where her story is. The power in this film is in its unassuming air, in the viewer doubting Blank and her skill to offer something new, but even in a world of black and white, the director, the writer, and the actress bring some much needed and refreshing color to the viewers cinematic options.
3.5/5
