A Thousand and One

One of my favorite genres is drama, especially the subset that deals with small, personal, intense stories. They’re often slow and plodding, heavy on dialog, and light on big action or pulse-pounding suspense. In stories like that, the characters are centered. Their experience, their motivations, their flaws, their desires, their drive, all of it. As such, we get a much more complete picture of a person than many other types of stories, simply because they trade scale of setting for expansive internal world. I wouldn’t begrudge people calling movies like these boring. In a strict sense, they are. Very rarely is something on screen going to make a passerby go “Wow!” Instead of the movie demanding your attention, they simply reward it.

Which isn’t to say they’re inherently superior to action blockbusters; it’s simply to say I have both the free time to watch uninterrupted for long periods of time, and a fascination with this type of story telling and the acting it demands. Escapism is a very valid use for all forms of entertainment, and sometimes you need that. But my brain is wired to much more often prefer directly confrontational cinema, challenging stories, and ones which contain more than what’s on the surface.

A Thousand and One tells the story of Inez (Teyana Taylor) as she attempts to raise her son Terry (Aaron Kingsley Adetola, Aven Courtney, and Josiah Cross, respectively) and navigate life as best she can. Recently out of prison, she kidnaps Terry foster care in order to raise him back in Harlem, where she grew up. We see this play out over three time periods: 1994, 2001, and 2005. The world changes, the characters change, and we’re asked to witness how time impacts them all.

Early on, we hear voice over which appears to be from some radio or television broadcast of a speech from mayor Rudy Giuliani. Based on the year, it may have even been his inauguration. He’s discussing his plans to clean up the city and make NYC the best city in the world. We hear bits from a bunch of such speeches over the course of the film, including from Michael Bloomberg once he becomes mayor. Some are presented in VO, and some are diegetic from TVs and radios, although the characters rarely acknowledge them. Every one of them is on the topic of cleaning up the city or reforming welfare or providing assistance to needy families or improving neighborhoods. And all of them stand in stark contrast to what we’re seeing on screen. They ignore the reality on the ground, and none of their plans are helping those who actually need it. They talk about saving “the real New York” while those who live there struggle to get by.

This backdrop gives us a view of what’s going on in the world outside Inez and her apartment. It provides context for her experiences and those of the ones she loves. For even though there’s no direct comment on the politics and governing of the city, it constantly impacts her life in various ways. And more than once, it comes to the fore and causes chaos for her and her son.

Because while this story is ostensibly about Inez, it feels more like it’s telling the story of Harlem through her. We see a vibrant and tight knit community of people working together to help each other slowly erode over the decade spanned by the film. The policies and changing face of the city also reshapes Harlem in ways that make it hard to recognize by the end. The lack of help or concern for the people who live there is palpable every time we see the cops or read a newspaper. Everyone is truly on their own, which helps to explain the rough edges many have developed.

None of this is to imply that the story of Inez and Terry is inconsequential. It’s incredibly compelling to watch them push through all the barriers thrown at them to somehow make everything work. Their luck comes through determination and stubbornness, and a refusal to let the world which so wants to hold them back succeed. You can see Inez white-knuckling to keep the security she’s fought so hard for in tact. She’s got a sharp edge, which serves her well in a hostile world, even if it sometimes spills over onto Terry and Lucky (William Catlett). It’s a trait that helps her feel more fully realized, as we feel the weight of her life’s experiences weighing on her.

Inez is absolutely fantastically portrayed by Teyana Taylor. She’s been getting a lot of praise for this performance, all of it deservedly so. It would be easy for this character to feel like a caricature, or to come off as overdramatic. Her boiling frustration could easily come off as undirected anger, and she could become unsympathetic. But Taylor never for a moment lets us lose sight of her humanity, her struggle, and how even in her lowest moments she’s pulling off a Herculean feat. She is a character so full of life, you’re never at risk of forgetting who and what this is all for.

This is the kind of film that can easily pass most people by. For one, personal dramas like this don’t get a lot of fanfare, and even less when it’s entirely concerned with Black characters. It doesn’t have any big names to bolster it. And it just doesn’t strike many people as the type of thing you go out to see, as emphasized by me being all alone in the theater. But I’d argue this is the type of counterprogramming we need to avoid all mainstream movies melting into one indistinguishable mass. Not to mention to encourage a greater range of voices to have a seat at the table, telling stories that others may not consider important or cinematic.

No, A Thousand and One is not going to “save movies”. But it’s more than worth you time and money to seek out.