Writer-director Stella Meghie wants us to fall for beautiful New Yorkers — intrepid online journalist, Michael (LaKeith Stanfield) and swelegant museum curator, Mae (Issa Rae).
Deadlines don’t impinge on Michael; Mae’s kitchen is bigger than my whole flat (sigh). But, thanks to Stanfield and Rae, it’s easy to go with the flow. As actors, they have completely different vibes (if he’s an ellipsis, she’s more of an exclamation mark). Yet both give off a real-world smell.
That Michael and Mae are black is, simultaneously, crucial to the tale and by the by. Let’s not JUST talk about race, Meghie seems to be saying. Let’s talk about weddings, workaholic mums and the fact that Kendrick Lamar can be a real downer.
At one point, Mae asks Michael to dance with her (Al Green’s on the turntable). Instead, Michael stays put, on the sofa. An awkward little power struggle ensues, that tells us so many about these wary, strong-willed characters.
It’s a shame about the flashbacks. In a glossy version of Eighties Louisiana, Mae’s ambitious photographer mum, Christina (Chanté Adams) half commits to a decent fisherman, Isaac (Y’lan Noel). Christina’s dilemma is supposed to deepen our sense of where Mae’s coming from, but the Nicholas Sparks-y plot contrivances drag us straight to a bland rung of hell.
Simply put, Michael and Mae don’t get enough time to just be, though a sequel could fix that.
Al Green croons, “Make believe you love me, one more time.” Michael and Mae are warm and tender. One more snuggle would be much appreciated.
