I’m not sure it’s possible, or ultimately even desirable, to disengage a piece of art from the circumstances of its creator. But in the case of Nate Parker’s directorial debut, the purpose of this review is solely to comment on the merits of the film and not on the discussion around rape allegations and its writer/director/star. It’s worth mentioning that the film premiered to unprecedented acclaim at Sundance at the beginning of the year; the worldwide rights were bought for $17.5m, a record figure for a deal inked at the festival. It’s also worth mentioning that Sundance is a classic echo-chamber environment, which magnifies and distorts the reaction to a film. This would certainly seem to be the case for The Birth of a Nation.
Reclaiming the title of DW Griffith’s controversial silent classic is a bold move, and it’s one that feels more like hubris than a justified statement. Although politically repugnant, Griffith’s film was revolutionary in its film-making. Parker’s account of Nat Turner (played by Parker), the slave preacher who headed a short-lived rebellion, celebrates the slaves rather than their owners, but the film-making is cliche-ridden and middlebrow. Parker employs every overused visual trope from the slave-film repertoire, from the glimpse of an empty rocking chair on a terrace to the slow motion shot of black and white kids playing together, re-enacting the actions of the adults around them. There’s a lot of chest-pounding and posturing: Parker cites Mel Gibson’s blustering epic Braveheart as an influence, and it shows. His depiction of Turner borders on the messianic.
