‘Color Book’ Review: A Newly Widowed Dad and His Son With a Disability Rebuild in Moving Indie Debut

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When Lucky gently leans into the rhythm of an old soul song playing in his recently bought classic car, it’s a subtle, moving moment, much like David Fortune’s debut film “Color Book.” Just as Lucky slides smoothly but softly into the narrative, Fortune does the same in telling the tale of Lucky (William Catlett) and his 11-year-old son Mason (Jeremiah Daniels), who are learning to cope with a life reshaped by an unforeseen, disruptive death. Labeling Lucky as a single father of a child with Down syndrome feels accurate yet somehow oversimplifies the delicate, understated way this complex situation is portrayed with tender, unwavering attention.

The “Color Book” provides a relaxing lo-fi experience (think Roy Ayers’ “Everybody Loves the Sunshine”), but it shines with top-notch high-fidelity quality, showcasing Nikolaus Summerer’s vivid color palette of rich charcoals, soft grays, and bright whites. However, this minimalist drama offers more than just visual appeal; it presents a unique category that I would call “deep fidelity.” This is where the filmmaker honestly portrays the physical, emotional, and even spiritual aspects of their characters’ lives without any flash or pretense. Films like Charles Burnett’s “Killer of Sheep” or Garrett Bradley’s documentary “Time” serve as good examples of this style.

Just as some exceptional movies portray ordinary lives unfolding in a peaceful, unassuming manner, small events of great significance take place. A mother engages in playtime with her child. A father and son prepare waffles together. A youngster sketches. A dad assists his son in dressing up in a formal shirt. However, the mood shifts when the mother is remembered, and the son and father start dealing with her absence, either together, separately, or at times not coping at all, given the freshness of the loss.

The flow of time is pivotal in “Color Book.” A day feels like an entire lifetime, yet the worry about being late to a certain place persists. This strange distortion of minutes and hours becomes comprehensible when considering the death of Lucky’s wife and Mason’s mother. However, there’s also a sense of urgency to bring something into fruition – in this case, ensuring Mason attends his first baseball game.

Brandee Evans brings a lively melancholy to her character Tammy, making it hard for viewers not to feel a sense of loss as well. Initially seen briefly crafting beads with Mason at the beginning of the movie, she lingers in Lucky’s mind through fleeting, occasional flashbacks.

(The focus here is on conveying the emotional impact of Brandee Evans’ performance and her character’s presence throughout the film, while also making the text more accessible to a wider audience.)

Following a heartfelt memorial service, where testimonies were so authentic they could’ve been mistaken for reality, we return to the beading scene, but this time it’s Lucky and Mason participating together. However, there’s an undercurrent of tension. Despite his best efforts, Lucky’s enthusiasm seems to wane. Yet, he diligently sticks to their routines, guiding Mason in dance, tooth-brushing, and bedtime prayers. “In the meantime, it will just be you and me,” he reassures Mason. As a cinema devotee, I found this scene poignant and deeply moving.

When Lucky intends to fulfill his pledge of bringing Mason to the baseball game, they encounter one obstacle after another. Some difficulties originate from external factors, while others seem like a quick dose of retribution. Dressed in a pinstripe baseball jersey, Mason desires to bring along a balloon that holds special significance for him to the match. Lucky refuses, and there’s a momentary standoff between the somber father and the disheartened son. The balloon remains, but other challenges will arise, making Lucky question his initial decision.

Titled “Color Book,” this narrative beautifully explores the bond between fathers and sons, particularly focusing on the understated ways Black fathers express their love. Throughout the story, Lucky, shrouded in sorrow, frequently gazes upon his young son, allowing tension to dissipate and affection to blossom. When words fail them, they communicate through a humorous display of muscle flexing and squats, showcasing the unspoken language unique to a father and son. Dabney Morris’s score skillfully conveys the delicate balance between sorrow and the quiet majesty of love as this new pair navigates their solitary togetherness. The author wisely lets the emotional pull between these two characters guide the narrative, avoiding unnecessary explanations or rushing the storyline.

Before Lucky experiences his initial flashback to happier times, Catlett has already borne the poignant burden of memories in his expression. It is evident that Lucky is striving to adjust his position as the lone caregiver, balancing gentleness with resilience.

11-year-old Mason, following the style of the movie, also appreciates its quiet, respectful moments. There are instances where he appears determinedly unyielding in his position. He looks at his father much like Lucky looks back at him – with a mix of curiosity, affection, and sometimes mild frustration.

This version maintains the original meaning while using simpler language for easier understanding.

As a cinephile, I found myself deeply immersed in the poignant portrayal of a father-son duo, subtly woven within the narrative. A particularly touching moment that stood out in this film, filled with such moments, happens on a metro train when Lucky and Mason unexpectedly meet Meech (Njema Williams). Intriguingly, Meech requests Mason to sketch him in his ever-present notebook of drawings. Previous interactions with Lucky’s friend Rico (rapper Kia Shine Coleman) suggest that Mason is well-loved and cherished by his parents’ friends. The writer-director masterfully portrays this closeness as both an expected part of their lives and a significant aspect, adding depth to the storyline.

The story ‘Color Book’ is based in Atlanta, a city often cold and rainy, colloquially known as ATL. Lucky and Mason embark on their public transportation trip towards the stadium, offering glimpses of a sprawling metropolis. Along the way, they pass industrial areas interspersed with humble or dilapidated neighborhoods, flats nestled low to the ground, and shops lining the streets.

When love exists, so does fatigue. It’s Lucky’s extreme tiredness that ultimately causes the separation. We are almost as concerned about this as Lucky himself. Viewers might be frustrated with him, but we understand how diligently he’s working to fulfill his duties towards his son and his deceased spouse.

I can’t help but feel a mix of anticipation and apprehension as I watch a MARTA worker, who could potentially be our hero or our antagonist. She’s taking actions that seem right, yet carry the risk of causing unintended harm. It’s not just her showing concern; a waitress (Terri J. Vaughn) at a diner is also pouring out kindness. As for this pair, there’s a sense they will not only survive but possibly flourish, given their resilience. And with this heartwarming debut, it seems the same could be said for Fortune – she’s impressively good.

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2025-01-23 23:17