Saying goodbye to a cinematic pioneer with a look back
The recent death of John Singleton marked the end of an era in the world of cinema when the Oscar-nominated writer/director passed away late last month. Singleton’s death has left behind a collection of collaborators and cinephiles, all of whom still can’t believe the world has lost one of the most signature voices in African American filmmaking. Beginning with his highly-influential debut Boyz in the Hood, Singleton quickly emerged as a fresh cinematic voice in tune with, and adept at, showcasing the black experience in early ‘90s America. With its mix of edginess and heart, Boyz in the Hood remains one of the most compelling and accomplished debuts in all of film history. Maybe it’s because of this that Singleton’s follow-up project, the 1993 romantic drama Poetic Justice, felt like an odd sophomore effort which many saw as a step backwards for the director. The movie told the story of an L.A. hairstylist named Justice (Janet Jackson), a wounded yet soulful young woman who finds herself traveling across the state with a postal worker named Lucky (Tupac Shakur). Along the way, the two discover one another beyond the stereotypes both they and society have placed upon them. While Poetic Justice ended up being far less acclaimed than Singleton’s debut, the movie retains an undying popularity and a significance that’s just as deep as any title in the filmmaker’s impressive career.
There’s no questioning the prowess Singleton brought to every project he honed, but Poetic Justice feels as if it belongs in a class that’s so totally its own. Watching it in the context of both the early ‘90s and the present day, the film remains the perfect melding of two artists feeding off of each other’s creative energies. The magic that both Singleton and Jackson are able to conjure up is unmistakable in the way they elevate each other to levels of artistry foreign to both of them. Singleton captures another side to Jackson’s essence, which proves to be a mix of vulnerability and ferociousness. While Jackson’s music made her one of the most innovative artists of her generation, here she’s allowed room to explore a more stripped away nature which many doubtless conflated at times when it came to her music. Here she takes the complex protagonist within Singleton’s script (which includes frequent narration of beautiful poetry courtesy of Maya Angelou) and interprets her through her soul, with the director spellbindingly capturing every moment of it. Jackson also manages to usher Singleton into an exploration of the black female mentality in ways which go far and beyond anything written on the page. As a recording artist, the singer’s inclination for themes both romantic and provocative are wonderfully implemented here as she exhibits a raw earthiness through Justice’s wounded nature. It’s that rawness and vulnerability Jackson brings to life which allows Singleton the opportunity to explore his nature as a filmmaker in unexpected territory.
Poetic Justice is so often unfairly looked at as one of Singleton’s more populist films, rather than acknowledged for the substance it so clearly has. Looking at the film in today’s day and age, it’s the struggle to reconcile the difference between the world someone exists in and the person they inherently are. Few directors could have crafted a tale about the different shades of the black female perspective in early ‘90s L.A. the way Singleton does here. Poetic Justice offers up two opposing sides of such a figure in the characters of Justice’s two closest friends, Jessie (Tyra Ferrell) and Iesha (Regina King). Both seem to be products of the urban Los Angeles they belong to, with the former establishing her independence as a salon owner and the latter playing into stereotypes of guy hopping and excessive drinking. The only commonality the two share is their knack for not letting any man get close enough to penetrate the shells they’ve enclosed themselves in. It also shouldn’t be dismissed just how much of a tribute the film is to Black America of the early ‘90s. The L.A. riots of 1992, resulting from the Rodney King trial taking place during the time of filming, give the film an authenticity it just couldn’t have otherwise brought. Yet it’s the way Singleton’s film digs deep to find the actual poetry of the characters themselves, acknowledging that these are people with social experiences which are uniquely their own, far away from the stereotypes placed on them by the outside world. It’s here, in its ideology, where the essence of Poetic Justice shines through as a movie about finding one’s self through all of the noise of society.
Singleton was never really known too much as an actor’s director; more often than not he was praised for his daring ideologies and method of execution. Yet the performances he got from both his leads indicate a director very sensitive to the process of an actor and their need to explore their characters in depth. Both Jackson and Shakur carry the film with the kind of soulfulness and dedication that makes anyone watching Poetic Justice forget they are watching two of music’s biggest superstars inhabit a pair of wounded ordinary people. The two are carried tenderly by Singleton’s effortless direction, which contains the same concentrated devotion to what is essentially a softer (but no less poignant) companion piece to Boyz in the Hood. In spite of the mixed reviews the movie got from the critical media and the decent take it made at the box-office, the endurance of Poetic Justice lies not in the intoxicating romance of two music legends on the screen, but rather in the unique insight into a specific human experience which only Singleton could bring to the screen.
I remember my first experience with Singleton was his 1995 feature Higher Learning. Made just after Poetic Justice, the film explored the lives of a group of college students who come face to face with the explosive racial tensions which pulsated through campus life. It was a stark contrast to the Singleton-produced Tales from the Hood, a horror anthology film released the same year with a decidedly urban twist. Later still, the true-life drama Rosewood took on one of the most famously unexplored travesties in African American history for what is arguably his strongest post-debut title. These, as well as all the other titles lucky enough to have been crafted by Singleton, managed to bear the stamp of his culturally in-tune sensibilities as a filmmaker and artist, regardless of what kind of plot they contained. Eventually, when lesser titles would come his way, a la 2 Fast 2 Furious and Abduction, the director never lost his power as a storyteller. Singleton may have left us far sooner than should have been allowed, yet his layered and honest illustration about the black experience in its various incarnations will continue on.
Poetic Justice is now available on Blu-Ray and DVD from Sony Pictures Home Entertainment.
