The Last Black Man in San Francisco
At one point during The Last Black Man in San Francisco, our lead protagonist Jimmie is taking the city bus where he overhears a young white woman express her distaste for the titular city, having just recently moved there. As a rebuttal, Jimmie exclaims how “You can’t hate something if you don’t love it first.” From start to finish, The Last Black Man in San Francisco exhibits that love and hate dichotomy with every frame. In his impressive directorial debut, Joe Talbot along with childhood buddy and co-writer Jimmie Fails work to bring their beloved city into a poem worth telling, a poem that tackles gentrification and race on the surface, but goes deeper about finding yourself in a dynamic, ever-changing city.
In the streets of San Francisco, California, Jimmie (Jimmie Fails) and his best friend Montgomery (Jonathan Majors) exist in a time of change and evolution. The city they once knew has since been shaped by the passage of time, leaving the streets they grew up in almost unrecognizable, that is except for a single old Victorian-style house. As it turns out, that house once belonged to Jimmie’s family, having been constructed by his grandfather in 1946. But for some time, a white couple has moved into the residence and don’t have the same level of care for the building. As a result, Jimmie and Mont attempt to care for the house for them, repainting the outside walls, tending to the gardens, etc. But when a familial tragedy disrupts the couple, they decide to move out. Seizing the opportunity, Jimmie and Mont attempt to take back what was once theirs, while discovering for themselves where they belong in an ever-changing environment, and what home truly means for the both of them.
As childhood friends, Joe Talbot and Jimmie Fails are both residents of San Francisco themselves, having lived there their whole lives, and you can tell with each frame that fills the screen as well as Jimmie’s development as he traverses the sometimes harsh and other times Zen qualities of San Francisco. They tell the story with a tenderness, a delicate touch that exhibits the love and passion they have for their city, as well as the hate they have towards it. The bright color palettes, expansive scope, and fluid camera movement all work in tandem to breathe life into the titular city, like it’s an ever-turning ecosystem brimming with life and variety.
The cinematography, conducted by Adam Newport-Berra, adds a surreal, almost enchanting quality to the city, as if we’re in a dreamlike state ourselves. Every shot of the downhill streets, the polluted bay area, or the fog converging on the Golden Gate Bridge, is a portrait of vibrancy and fantasy that only those who truly understand the essence of this city can capture. This passion is especially true when you enter the house our heroes strive to maintain and retake. It’s a vessel of the past, a history held close by Jimmie given his familial connection to it. With its labyrinthian carpentry, treasure-trove of antiquities, and a tower that is shaped like a witch’s hat, the house is filled with care and detail that makes it a distinct character in its own right, exhibiting its own history and its own passion.
The same can be said with regards to our dynamic duo of leads. On the surface, the basic story about our two leads is what is being marketed to audiences, and when the film starts, that’s exactly the story that unfolds. Two young African-Americans are getting by in San Francisco while trying to maintain Jimmie’s family home while a white couple resides within it. But as the clock ticks by and the story evolves, layers begin to peel back. We witness a story less about a boy and his house, and more a story about a boy and his home, his past, his place in the city he loves and despises.
While this is Jimmie’s story, Talbot makes the attempt to expand upon his experience with the city to incorporate a number of other topics and issues of relevance in various different forms. As we travel across the streets in the gentrified safari of San Francisco, we clearly see how one can come to love and hate the city. Wherever we travel, we witness a polluted shipyard, a naked man waiting for the bus, an old friend of Jimmie’s living in a car, a group of men who continuously show off to each other (in a clever nod to toxic masculinity), the city is given an identity, a persona that is equal parts endearing and frustrating.
The house itself is a constant reminder of “the good old days,” the days of the “Harlem of the West” as it was once called. The nuance and subtlety that reflects that dilemma can be seen through both Fails’ and Majors’ performance. For the most part they remain quiet, level-headed, and fairly reserved, with only a few moments of outrage dispersed around. Jimmie maintains a strong conviction for his familial residence but also exhibits a level of discontent with his own surroundings. Given the ever-shifting landscape of his beloved hometown, he feels as though his life is nothing without the house that reminds him of home.
Montgomery, or Mont as he’s referred to most of the time, stands on equal footing as Jimmie, but exhibits a different outlook. An aspiring writer, playwright, and artist, he sees everything around him as a play. In one instance, he breaks up a “friendly” insult match between a group of other African-American men, a Greek chorus of sorts, who relish in displaying their masculinity to one another. That very chorus, however, serves as inspiration for a play Montgomery is fabricating, which culminates in said play acting as the climax of the story, with Montgomery practically spouting all the themes we’ve learned in a single powerful piece of discourse.
Their relationship comprises the heart of the story being told. Rarely, if ever, do they argue or show resentment to one another. Despite their clearly differing viewpoint on the nature of the Victorian household, they remain close and tender to each other. Whether roaming the streets on a single skateboard or watching old movies with Montgomery’s blind grandfather (Danny Glover), there’s an almost silent yet strong commitment and bond between the two and it makes for a rather believable, genuine, and authentic friendship.
Our heroes traverse the ins and outs of a city they barely recognize, so much so that we witness all of its highs and its lows, sometimes in the same frame. That makes for an immersive experience that can be appreciated, but I can’t help but feel it’s the film’s greatest weakness at the same time. Often many films, especially directorial debuts, are tasked with juggling a number of different issues and commentaries, and it’s mostly hit or miss. With this film, it does struggle to find an anchor point for the topics at hand. It diverts from the story to tell us about the setting, and while it makes for interesting observations and discussions, it sadly forces it to lose focus.
Through and through the story remains that Jimmie and Montgomery are trying to take back Jimmie’s childhood house, but rather than have it all connect in a more meaningful fashion, it just feels as though we’re going into one subplot before going to the main plot, and then another subplot and then the main plot again, and so on. It’s far from being as jarring as in something like 2017’s Sorry to Bother You, but it’s still noticeable.
Overall, The Last Black Man in San Francisco exhibits grace and tenderness that so few are able to achieve. While it’s far from perfect, it should definitely be something to admire given this is Talbot’s first feature he directed and Fails’ first time acting and writing. The story loses focus repeatedly and isn’t as emotionally impactful as it could’ve been, but the rest of it shines with exuberant colors. It’s a tale of a shifting landscape, a landscape Jimmie once called home but has since lost what home means to him. It’s a ballad of poignancy that reminds us of where home is. But it isn’t the destination we’re waiting for, but rather the journey we’re experiencing. Whether our street-smart heroes successfully find their way or not, we are able to cherish the flaws, the oddities, and the glimmers of hope that shine through the cracks of an ever-shifting landscape. It honestly doesn’t matter if the main story doesn’t quite stick the landing. It’s nonetheless hands down one of the most impressive feats of filmmaking this year.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C0FnJDhY9-0&t=1s&w=585