The 40-Year-Old Version, Lingua Franca, and video rental stores
Films by and about women of color, plus a very cool quarantine project
Hello!
On this week’s episode of Criticism Is Dead, we discuss The 40-Year-Old Version and Lingua Franca, two films by multi-hyphenate talents with personal stories to tell.
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04:14 The 40-Year-Old Version, streaming on Netflix, is about a Black playwright who was once considered a rising star, but is now struggling to create the art that she wants as she approaches her 40s.
The film is deeply personal to its creator, Radha Blank, and loosely inspired by her life: her apartment in Harlem is her own, her brother is her actual brother, her mom’s artwork and the pain of losing her is real, her rapper stage name RadhaMUSprime is one she’s used IRL.
You can feel how much of this film is drawn from first-hand experience, to the film’s merit and (some) weakness. Radha the character’s struggles — particularly her anxiety over the idea of selling out, as an artist who’s no longer the hot “30 under 30” on the block — ring so true, as does her love for New York, and a strong voice and sense of humor. But some of the story threads, as impactful as they may feel to her real story, aren’t really explored here; you get a sense of some personal history, but references to those snippets and longstanding relationships don’t hit as much as they could, because they haven’t been developed enough for a viewer with no context. Basically, as Pelin says, it could’ve been a TV show (and it was originally conceived as a 10-episode web series, so go figure).
Still, the film is a refreshing and relatable watch, especially for fellow creatives (and particularly fellow Black and non-white creatives). Blank has a point of view that we don’t get to see that often on the big screen. Excited to see what’s next for her!
24:26 Lingua Franca, also on Netflix, is about an undocumented trans Filipina caretaker whose attempts to fix her immigration status gets muddied once her client's adult grandson moves in.
Written, directed by, and starring Isabel Sandoval, this film tackles several topics — immigration, caretaking, trans womanhood — through a personal, often melancholy lens. It’s a beautiful film, with the cinematography capturing the visual grimness of cities; Brooklyn’s Brighton Beach is transformed into a grayscape of encroaching shadows and darkness, the interior of the main home a warm-tinted journey back through the generations it’s been lived in.
Some parts of the film felt a bit too ~of the moment~ in the news clips of Trump to invoke the atmosphere of fear that many felt more palpably under his presidency. But still, the movie excelled at showcasing the constant fear and problem solving that you’re subjected to as an undocumented immigrant.
The characters are thoughtfully crafted, as is their budding relationship. Some of the acting and the script could have been a bit better, per Pelin, but the ending seems right for this kind of ambiguous story, echoing the lack of neat and tidy closures in real life.
Bonus: Sex is depicted sensually, focusing primarily on Olivia’s body, her ecstasy, her pleasure.
42:15 Plus, culture notes about a TikTok of a video rental store replica that a couple built in their basement.
Bonus links that are just some tweets because I’m tired!
Okay bye!
— Jenny
ETA: Pelin was thoughtful enough to post links for the ~pandemic purchases~ we mention at the beginning of the episode. Thank you, Pelin!!
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Some credits:
Music: REEKAH
Artwork and design: Sara Macias and Andrew Liu