Monsters and Men movie review (2018)
As it seemingly wastes no shot in telling an expansive story in 95 minutes, “Monsters and Men” is always trying to be more than just a non-documentary recount of real-life injustices. But it loses this balancing act in its last third, which focuses on a young baseball prospect named Zyric (Kelvin Harrison Jr. of “It Comes at Night”) and the choice he makes about doing something when confronted first-hand by police racism, specifically in saying the name of Darius Larson at the top of his lungs. This part does feature a fascinating, restrained performance from Harrison, along with heartbreaking supporting work from Rob Morris as Zyric's father, who expresses a defeated attitude about the possibility of change. But even though its heart pulses with hope for the Black Lives Matter movement, the film starts to thin out and simplify itself, leading to a final moment more likely to preach to the choir than speak to anyone on either side of the debate.
When its values and vision do sync up, “Monsters and Men” shows incredible promise for Green, especially as an economical filmmaker. He’s able to whittle down three full characters and then link their perspectives to make an intimate, timely epic out of approximately 30-minute passages. As he builds this world, and has subtle introductions to his characters (Zyric is just another kid playing basketball with Dennis and other cops in a low-key impactful scene), Green also offers stunning connecting moments, as when Manny stares into an interrogation room window and Dennis is then looking at him on the other side of the glass, or when Dennis casually drives by Zyric as he’s being accosted by police. We also see each of them watch Manny’s video, contemplating in the film's definitively quiet moments what they should do about it.
Green especially orchestrates poignant symmetry with rhyming biographical details—we see what each of these men are like at home, in their closest relationships, and when interacting with figures who have authority over them. The outside of the bodega evolves too, from a peaceful gathering spot, to a crime scene, to a protest space, to a prayer vigil. There is plenty in this movie that is said about not being white in the face of police, just as much as there is about choosing humanity.
