Films That Feel Like Fall (pt. II)

Autumn in New York

If Beale Street Could Talk

Hello, fellow film lovers, and hello fellow fans of Autumn. I hope you’ve crunched plenty of leaves beneath your feet, I hope you’ve gotten to wear your favorite sweater(s), and in general I hope your Autumn is treating you well. I wanted to keep the coziness of last week’s Sofia Coppola features going, so I decided to partake in another night of films that feel like Fall. Colorful Fall foliage is so comforting and aesthetically-powerful, that it can be enough to make even a mid movie magical. At the risk of getting my Fall Fan card revoked, I thought the story of When Harry Met Sally was only alright, but the inclusion of a dreamy Autumn aesthetic complete with seas of orange leaves and countless fuzzy sweaters make this film feel ten times more special and romantic than it should. I think Autumn-set stories are often romances because there is so much to romanticize about this time of year: the fashion, the foliage, the pumpkin and apple-flavored treats, the necessity to cuddle up close to your loved ones for warmth, and the simple fact that Autumn is the most transient and transformative time of the year, makes it the perfect time and place to set a love story with stakes and fantastical possibilities. Autumn may be fleeting but it is so distinctly lovely that it can even be a main character in a story, and this was the case with Joan Chen’s romantic dramedy from 2000, Autumn in New York. Autumn in New York satisfies two common Fall film themes: cozy romanticism and gut-wrenching sadness—which, I still don’t know why, but is always a part of “cozy” Autumn movies. Autumn in New York follows successful restauranteur and womanizer Will Keane (Richard Gere), who’s only struggles in life involve juggling plates of beautiful food and droves of beautiful women. We first meet Will in an orange and yellow-tinted Central Park, where he meets up with one lover, but later, at a busy night at his bougie restaurant, there is a different woman on his arm. Richard Gere, of course, perfectly embodies this charismatic douchebaggery, but when his eyes lock with a young patron named Charlotte (Winona Ryder), his perpetual playboy persona gets flipped on its pretty head. Charlotte is a vibrant and friendly freelance haberdasher (aka rich family status) who’s quirky, free-spirited disposition would make even the most manic of pixie dreamgirls cringe. I’m not sure if I’ve ever seen Winona in a role like this—one that is so silly, so hopeful, so embarrassingly human. As it would turn out in this small world, Will used to date Charlotte’s (now deceased, of course) mother, which Charlotte’s grandma (Elaine Stritch) finds rightfully weird, but strangely cute. Charlotte, on the other hand, doesn’t take this odd connection as a red flag, but as a welcome mat—making Will already seem like a friend to her. The two of them have a bizarre chemistry that doesn’t necessarily take off right away, but Will is intrigued by Charlotte’s uniqueness, and Charlotte is compelled by this silver fox’s good looks, open-concept apartment, and stories of her dead mom (this poor girl never stood a chance.) Their romance is a whirlwind complete with dazzling walks through the colorful woods, expensive and delicious-looking meals (no one told me this was a food film as well!), and conversations that were both adorable and angering. Refreshingly, there is a self-awareness to Autumn in New York’s premise, and Winona spends half of the movie making fun of Richard Gere for being old, as she says “I collect antiques.” This self-awareness somewhat prevents Autumn in New York from evoking too much Woody Allen energy—which I would normally credit to its female director and female writer (Allison Burnett), but it turns out that this Allison is a male Allison, which actually makes the film’s overall sympathy for its sex-addicted male protagonist make a lot more sense. And when it’s revealed that Charlotte has a terminal illness, this also makes sense, because apparently these are the only stakes available to many romances. I inadvertently let out an annoyed sigh when Charlotte’s condition was unveiled, as if I hadn’t encountered needless tragedies in other decent films before, but I was genuinely hoping that Autumn in New York would be more than just sap with a side of saccharine. There are genuinely good lines in this film, as when Will says to Charlotte, “You look at me in a way that I haven’t quite earned”, but for every earth-shatteringly passionate turn-of-phrase there was an appallingly uncaring bit of dialogue, as when Will’s bestie says, “She’s the perfect woman: young, beautiful, and on her way out.” I mean, even for an intentionally ice-cold moment, that was pretty fucking harsh. With a premise as cut-and-dry-and-cliché as this one, I could see the ending coming, and I wouldn’t say I was necessarily rooting for this couple in the first place, but it still managed to break my heart. I enjoyed moments and shots of Autumn in New York, just as Richard Gere enjoys a glass of wine on his terrace, contemplating the love he has for this dying girl as the low Autumn sun hangs above his head. I enjoyed the juxtaposition of its main love interests—not necessarily their age gap, but their fully-realized, sometimes opposing, archetypes. Her, a genuine intellectual who dresses as and quotes Emily Dickinson on Halloween, and him, a sexy has-been who thinks she’s referencing Woody Allen (I’m telling you, it just gets more and more on-the-nose as it goes.) I enjoyed the cast of Vera Farmiga, Anthony LaPaglia, J.K. Simmons, Sam Trammell, and Tawny Cypress (of Yellowjackets fame), and I enjoyed how they all felt like believably cynical New Yorkers. I did not enjoy the heavy-handed yet half-assed tragedy that slowly but surely materializes, nor did I find its sense of humor particularly charming once the film decided to put its characters through emotional, Freudian turmoil. I know I’m a tough critic when it comes to sad movies, but I felt that Autumn in New York’s sadness was unearned, along with the heavy amounts of grace that it afforded its problematic main character. One film that does earn its sadness, its sweetness, and all of its soothing sentimentality is Barry Jenkins’ 2018 film If Beale Street Could Talk. If Beale Street Could Talk is based on the 1974 novel by James Baldwin—one of the greatest writers of all time, certainly one of the greatest writers of the 20th century—and is not actually set on Beale Street in Downtown Memphis, Tennessee (where I was born) but in Harlem, New York. The film opens with the explanatory immortal words of James Baldwin:

“Beale Street is a street in New Orleans, where my father, where Louis Armstrong and the jazz were born. Every black person born in America was born on Beale Street, born in the black neighborhood of some American city, whether in Jackson, Mississippi, or in Harlem, New York. Beale Street is our legacy. This novel deals with the impossibility and the possibility, the necessity, to give expression to this legacy. Beale Street is a loud street. It is left to the reader to discern a meaning in the beating of the drums.”

The film follows a young couple named Tish and Fonny (KiKi Layne and Stephan James) who’ve grown up together in the same neighborhood. Their love story is told out of order, but we see their bright-eyed beginnings as kids and friends, all the way to their present, problematic reality. If Beale Street Could Talk opens just as Autumn in New York does: with the tranquil cascading of leaves in an urban but homey setting. Their chic, 70s Fall attire features corresponding colors, and the chemistry between these two is instant and magnetic. Fonny is headed to prison for a crime that he did not commit, and Tish is pregnant and can only see her lover through six inches of visitation glass. Their love is a genuine and homegrown one, where the majority of their complications stem from systemic racism, but also from within their own homes. Tish’s parents (Regina King and Colman Domingo) are loving and welcoming to Fonny’s (Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor and Michael Beach), but Fonny’s mother doesn’t approve of the relationship. She proudly declares that she expected more for her artistic and intelligent son, which causes a supremely shady fight between parents and siblings that was funnier than it should’ve been—but that’s the effect of James Baldwin’s razor sharp wit and unshakable sense of whimsy. Throughout the film, we are shown photos of 1970s Harlem—all of the joy bursting out of the bustling streets and shops and alleyways. We’re taken on a slow but steady romantic ride, and Fonny and Tish’s attraction for one another blooms naturally. Their connection is pure, and their first time sleeping together is a patient, pleasurable experience that most women only dream of. We’re only given a glimpse into their blissful life together on the outside, but each moment feels intimate, passionate, and special. Whether its Tish cooking dinner as Nina Simone plays in the background, or Fonny peacefully working on one of his sculptures, each moment was made with a special, intentional consideration that made the entire story more believable. And when the two are torn apart by despicable, racist circumstances, their pain is palpable. Every single person in If Beale Street Could Talk gives a knockout performance, including the supporting characters played by Teyonah Parris, Brian Tyree Henry, Diego Luna, Pedro Pascal, and Dave Franco. If Beale Street Could Talk effortlessly conveys the nuanced and aggressive forms of racism that runs rampant in America, all while achieving a level of intimacy and warmth that makes the entire product feel balanced. The rushed and haphazard ending of Autumn in New York was so dizzying, that I feared the ending of If Beale Street Could Talk. But Baldwin and Jenkins offer far more optimism and sentimentality in their resolution, all while maintaining a realism that is devoid of misanthropy. I don’t know who decided that Autumn is the time for heartbreaking stories to be told, but it wasn’t this Scorpio. Regardless, I’ll always be drawn to an Autumn-set story, even if it relies entirely upon a familiar Fall aesthetic. Thank you for reading along this week, this season, this moment in time, and may the rest of your Autumn be filled with sugar, pumpkin spice, and everything nice! 😊