“There wouldn’t be no Martin without Malcolm.”
A conversation piece at the very least, Reinaldo Marcus Green‘s Monsters and Men tackles the ever-present social issues surrounding a black man who is shot dead by a police officer outside a convenience store.
Told through the eyes of three different individuals, all with different takes on the incident, Monsters and Men never place blame or looks for accountability. Instead, Green works to craft a narrative that is informative, educational and conversational. The film allows you to be sympathetic for all involved, while also opening the door to constructive thinking - a rarity for any movie these days.
The film opens on Manny (Anthony Ramos), a new father whose family lives with his mom while his wife works to finish her degree and he painstakingly looks for a job. One night, while playing dice, he films the lethal shot that takes the life of Darius Larson by Officer Benito Suarez. It is this moment that becomes the center of our story as we watch how that night differently affects three diverse, but connected, black men.
Each protagonist’s story is flawlessly intertwined with that of the next, creating a determined and heartwrenching tale that pulls at your heartstrings and stimulates your mind. It is this fluid approach that helps Monsters and Men work as it allows our attention to be direct and decisive. We are never distracted by time jumps or story detours. Instead, we get the full take before moving on; thus providing a comprehensive narrative that never loses its focus.
John David Washington and Kelvin Harrison Jr. comprise the other two viewpoints offered up throughout the film; Washington as a police detective and Harrison, a baseball protege on the verge of hitting it big. Both, along with Ramos’ Manny, a mixture of angles of the conversation to life. However, what makes Monsters and Men different than the countless previous films detailing the same social issue lies within the film’s fundamental understanding of itself.
The story here is ultimately more extensive than any one individual character. The film gets that, opting not to try and answer the big questions, but rather open the channel for conversation. The drama, the humanity, and the heartbreak are all real, allowing those watching on to connect with its many players. Through this, a wealth of emotions rise to the surface: sorrow, frustration, grief. All of these are good, but for a film like Monsters and Men, the real test of its effectiveness lies beyond the screen and the theater. Whether it prompts a larger conversation, only time will tell. However, Green has comprised a brilliant cast to tell a painful but all too relevant story, proving once again that art is often a pathway to change.
