(Note: This article was originally publiched by Mick Cohen-Carroll on Medium in June 2020. For current information about the state of the racial justice movement in America, I recommend reading updates about Derek Chauvin’s trial, this interview with Kentucky’s Rep. Attica Scott about the ongoing imapct of Breonna Taylor’s murder, this update about the shooting of Jacob Blake, and this analysis of the scope of Black Lives Matter protests.)

Though there is room for art, and you must be creative to make a film, the movie industry is, after all, just that: an industry. And in an industry, the primary goal is to make money. If it’s art, great, but that is not the end goal. Artistry is the byproduct. That is why people like Martin Scorsese call the Marvel movies “theme parks” and not cinema. He makes the distinction that cinema is (by his definition) more daring, unexpected, honest and artistic.

Hear me out. It’s easy to write off Keanu as a silly comedy about a kitten, especially in comparison to Get Out, when the latter is one of the most impactful and intelligent movies about race and the Black experience that ever existed. But with Keanu, Jordan Peele — along with long-time collaborator Keegan Michael-Key — paved the way for his fanbase to be ready to see him as someone who has a valuable voice in the dialogue about racial makeup and the identity woes that come with it. He also gave us hints early on about his predilection for the horror genre. In turn, this allowed Get Out to have massive success and critical acclaim. The exploration of Black identity and of the horror genre is apparent all throughout Keanu, and prior to that, on Key & Peele.

“Get Out” follows Chris and Rose (an interracial couple). As their relationship continues to flourish, the couple embarks on a small journey. Rose, a Caucasian women, takes Chris, an African American male, to her parents house. At first, the family seems friendly, but as time progresses, it’s clear that something is off. Simply put, Jordan Peele’s film is an intelligent and unflinching piece of work, firmly focused on an African American story in fiction. At first, it’s a charming form of interaction. Like Stanley Kramer’s “Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner” (1967), the familial atmosphere is filled with humor and playfulness. However, as time moves on, the film enters sinister territory, echoing the slow burn style of Roman Polanski’s “Rosemary’s Baby” (1968) and Bryan Forbes’ “The Stepford Wives” (1975).

It’s no wonder Peele won an academy Award for Best Original Screenplay. His script is layered with perspective and subtlety. Through a terrific vision, Peele creates the gift that keeps on giving. The clues and symbolic representations are aplenty, and as each viewing passes, you are destined to find something new. That’s a mark of great cinema.

After years of being ignored, shut down, or shifted around, I think we’re finally getting somewhere with black cinema getting its due. I think it is finally at the point where mainstream audiences will just watch a movie for black audiences and not have it feel forced or empty. It’s not at the level it needs to be at just yet, but I do think it is getting traction. Not counting the Oscars (especially after seeing Green Book win last year), I think that black cinema is making waves with the general population, and that excites me, because that can break up the formulaic and problematic amount of films that reach audiences and can open up the door for other minorities to start appearing in film more now that it’s proving that movies with diversity CAN reach people of all backgrounds despite their intended audience. I think since 2016, there has been a stream of successful (and now iconic) movies by black artists, for black audiences, with general appeal. Moonlight, Fences, Get Out, Us, Blackkklansman, Blindspotting, If Beale Street Could Talk, Sorry to Bother You, The Hate U Give, and Black Panther are just a few of the plethora that come to mind, and all are great or excellent movies. It’s a far cry from times like 2004 where the most notable black led movies were Hotel Rwanda (white director) and White Chicks (infamously bad).

So, how does Queen & Slim hold up in this black film-making start of a renaissance? It’s…OK. And I’m not gonna lie: I am highly disappointed that it’s just OK, because this was one of the most anticipated films of the year for me, and for good reason. For starters, the premise is the best kind of hook you could ask for: A black man shoots a white police officer in self defense while on a Tinder date. He and the date go on the run. That’s an amazing idea to film a movie around. Likewise, it is the directorial debut of double Grammy winner Melina Matsoukas, who is best known for her fantastic music videos. And on top of that, Daniel Kaluuya, one of my up and coming favorite new actors, was one of the stars. And yes, I was somewhat right. The premise was intriguing. The direction was nice. The acting was great. But I forgot the cardinal virtue of good cinema: a solid script.