America (2019)
There's a moment watching Garrett Bradley's America where you stop trying to work out exactly what you're looking at, and just let it wash over you. That surrender is, I think, exactly what Bradley is after. Shot in gorgeous, high-contrast black-and-white, the film deliberately scrambles any sense of when you are. Contemporary subjects look as though they've stepped out of the 1920s or 30s, and that's entirely the point. Bradley is making a visual argument: that Black achievement, joy and existence in America isn't a "wave" or a fleeting movement in time, but a continuous, unbroken thread stretching across generations. As conceptual hooks go, it's a striking one, and she commits to it completely.
The film is rooted deep in New Orleans, and you feel that sense of place in every frame. There's a warmth to the images even within that stark monochrome palette, a real affection for the people and the culture on screen. Bradley isn't documenting in the traditional sense. She's composing. Building something closer to a visual poem than a conventional short film, and doing so with real confidence and a sharp eye.
And yet, and I want to be honest about this, because the film nearly had me completely, there's a slight elusiveness to it that keeps it at arm's length. I watch a lot of documentaries, and what I tend to need, even from the more experimental end of the genre, is some kind of narrative grip. A thread to follow, a tension to lean into. America operates so fully in the realm of atmosphere and abstraction that it floats by beautifully, but briefly. It's the kind of film that fills you with admiration while you're watching it and then, if you're being honest with yourself afterwards, you realise you couldn't quite hold onto it. The emotional charge is genuine. The ideas are rich. But the montage approach, wonderful as it looks, keeps the whole thing slightly out of reach.
That's not a damning criticism. A film can be brilliant as a conceptual exercise without being the full package, and America is certainly brilliant. The cinematography alone makes it worth your time. I was genuinely moved by what Bradley was reaching for here, even if I occasionally wished she'd let me get a little closer. There's a difference between mystery and distance, and the film sometimes sits just a little too comfortably in the latter.
What it did do, unmistakably, is make me want more. I went straight from this to her feature-length documentary Alone, which tells you everything about how much the filmmaking impressed me even when I had reservations about the structure. That's the mark of a genuinely distinctive voice: you want to follow it wherever it goes next. Bradley has that quality in abundance. I'm not sure America is a perfect film, but it's made by someone who clearly has a singular way of seeing, and in a short film, that might be enough.
Three stars.
Rating: ★★★ | Year: 2019 | Watched: 2026-07-09
Trailer
