Passing: Finding the Grey between Black and White
Friday, November 12, 2021 at 5:00PM by Patrick Ball
In Rebecca Hall’s devastatingly delicate Passing, light plays a powerful role. One I haven't seen in many films before. The use and placement of natural and artificial light introduces and reintroduces us to the characters over and over. Depending on how the situation suits them, they bask in it, hide from it, are able to play up their ruses, daring us to look a little closer, or cling to shadows, to the safety of the shade.
As many of us in America came to a new and widened understanding of the foundational race issues in our country following the deaths of George Floyd and Brianna Taylor last year, and the resulting national reckoning that came after, I spent a lot of time considering how my experience as an “ethnically ambiguous” mixed-race black person has shaped my perception of race, and of media. In Passing, Tessa Thompson’s Irene wryly remarks to a white acquaintance that “we all are passing for something or another, aren’t we?” And isn’t that at the heart of the imposter syndrome we all feel at a new job or opportunity, the shades of ourselves we put on in social gatherings, the walls we build to hide our flaws and insecurities? There is something universal in the facade...
But, it’s also deeply specific to the black experience. Passing opens with a scene where Irene is shopping for a book that she can’t seem to find. Her only option is to continue her search at stores normally not an option for her, to puff on some white powder, don a wide brimmed hat, and keep her eyes low. The stakes are low, she’ll survive without the book, but the deception is both a necessary evil and something that wields a curious power.
There is, of course, an element of privilege in being able to pass. My family on my maternal grandmother’s side comes from a light skinned Creole background and many of my family members were able to pass in white society, intentionally or not. Because they were fair skinned, educated, and whatever their white neighbors considered to be “non-colored” traits, they were simply assumed to be so. Perception was their reality. My Grandmother Daisy was born in a white hospital, during segregation, many of her aunts when they aged were placed in white nursing homes, and many acquaintances of my grandmother’s never knew. To be clear, my grandmother owned her blackness, she never intentionally passed, she was beautifully vibrant, funny, tough, full of life and proud of her heritage. But in public, strangers' perception wasn’t up to her. And for many of the generations before her, it was a matter of life and death to be able to pass, a privilege not afforded to their brothers and sisters without such a complexion.
As America moved through the age of the civil rights movement, an evolving conversation about colorism trickled onto the big screen, and into Oscar history. There’s Douglas Sirk’s genius Imitation of Life (1959), a sly and subversive piece of prestige fare, which used the veneer of melodrama to comment on the shadowy uncomfortable truths beneath the bright lights of 50s Hollywood’s portrayal of American society. A subplot involving the fair skinned daughter of a black maid and her quest to deny both her heritage and her mother, to a tragic end, ended up dominating the film. It earned Oscar nominations for both Juanita Moore and Susan Kohner, as the mother and daughter respectively, and remains a prescient and probing exploration of race in America, even all these years later.
Imitation of Life
Secrets & Lies
There’s also Mike Leigh’s excellent Secrets & Lies, a Best Picture nominee from 1996, which portrays the ripples across a white working class London family when they discover that their matriarch previously gave up a child for adoption. Her now adult biracial daughter finds her. And though the daughter hasn’t the ability, nor the intention, to pass, the delicate situation of integrating into a white culture and family structure, and the family’s ability to process the unexpected, provides well wrought tension.
But there haven't been nearly enough projects greenlit that depict this fascinating part of the conversation about race in America from an authentic perspective, certainly not enough that have been given the platform to attract Oscar’s attention. Both of the aforementioned films came from white creators and Passing’s Rebecca Hall, whose grandfather is of black ancestry, self identifies as white-presenting and doesn’t consider herself to have been raised or “gone through the world as a black person.” But, her fascination with this project, and what she gets so beautifully right about it, comes from, as she describes, “the nuance and paradox” of her personal history and that of the characters.
When we first meet the blonde and buoyant Clare in Passing, played with beguiling fearlessness by the remarkable Ruth Negga, she’s holding court in an upper class white restaurant, bathed in the sun pouring in from the large windows, and emboldened like a spotlit Diva before her captive audience. Who really has the power here? And who is the fool? But, it’s a lonely place, in the spotlight, and when she follows Irene back to the more humble lights of beautifully black Harlem, she reexperiences a different kind of power. The power of community, of pride, of the everyday courage of the ordinary, and the connective bond of the oppressed. For these two friends, living parallel experiences that somehow cross, there’s a pull that comes from the danger, a magnetism that comes with curiosity. I know in my life, and doubtless in my family’s, being able to toe a line between two worlds has felt as much a curse as a blessing. There’s always been struggle with that duality. But, what Passing reminded me was that with a gentle hand, with a soft but insistent focus on relationships over anything else, and with the passion of our convictions, leaving a light on for the conversation to continue behind us is always a great start at finding home.
Passing is streaming on Netflix now.
Reader Comments (8)
Race has such a profound influence on how we see ourselves, how others define us, and how society perceives our worth. All of that makes the discussion worthwhile.
When my mother first invited my wife to a social event with the ladies of her circle, my wife expressed reticence. She was fearful of how the racism that would be present would affect her mother-in-law. My mother patted her hand and chided, “Don’t worry. You are light enough. You’re passing.”
My immediate response to the film was annoyance. That lingering over lit shot of Ruth Negga in the hotel restaurant made clear that Clare is not passing. Rather, she is a light skinned Black woman with an expensive coloring of her hair. I immediately wondered how Clare masked her race from the beauticians who served her. I don’t accept the premise of the film.
When Irene enters the hotel in her white chiffon, she is obviously black but allowing a brim to mask her features and her wealth to distract from her presence in the virtually empty establishment.
Hall relies on cinematography that is too bright to aid the illusion of passing. Sheer curtains and gauzy white dresses become opaque and remind us of blinding whiteness. I think such a metaphor works well in literature but fails in the cinema where the eye is not easily fooled by what we see.
The story itself seems to address more about a woman’s burden of reliance on a man for economic status. Not surprising, in that novelist Nella Larsen, author of the source material, lost her financial independence after the end of her own marriage.
There is a terrific scene when Clare speaks to her hunger for material wealth and her determination to get it without concern for those hurt in the path. Yet, the film has Clare make choices not in keeping with that fixation.
The film is a fine effort for a novice director.
Great essay, Patrick.
@Finbar McBride I dunno, a lot of people passed in the 20-50s who, when you look at photos of them now, seem to have gotten away with the impossible, like Albert C. Johnston in New Hampshire, the inspiration for the non-fiction book and film LOST BOUNDARIES.
I really liked PASSING and the clearly intentional modest aesthetic of it. It seemed like a low budget American Playhouse feature from the 1980s, and I think that was intentional. There wasn't a single establishing shot of NYC and I'm sure, on a Netflix budget, Hall could have afforded a couple along with a more crowded street scene or two. But the lack of that added to the sense of limited options the characters faced: stuck in their miniature little snow-globe version of NYC.
Random thought: Start an Easy Rawlins franchise based on Walter Mosley's books (DEVIL IN A BLUE DRESS, BLACK BETTY, WHITE BUTTERFLY, etc.) starring André Holland, all filmed is smoky black and white. Be still my film noir heart!
I can't wait to watch this film (on a big screen), although I have had my own doubts about the casting.
But the thing is, and I know this from my family history and the stories of friends, passing—whether it be as white, as male, as female, what have you—is a two-way street: on one side, there's the chutzpah, the sheer will of the person who takes that risk, and on the other there's the gullibility of people who see what they choose to see and ignore what they choose to ignore. (Those same people would likely do great harm to the person passing if their eyes were opened, or rather if they opened their eyes.)
So I can actually buy the casting, and it will probably be easier when I see the situation play out in the film. (Fingers crossed.)
I watched this film recently and was struck by the textured tonalities of the b&w photography. The film starts with a blurry image of hustled feet before it becomes clearer and more defined. Like Clare's own white façade becoming undone and getting into sharper focus.
Both Negga and Thompson were amazing -- the first scenes established their surface differences and their faces are like maps. Clare is clearly defined and easy to read, while Irene is hard to read initially but showed layers of contour lines to show more complicated landscapes.
While I don't have a personal narrative about this experience, I found the idea of passing as believable especially during those analogue years. You see people and places superficially and take what you see as truth about them unless you go and delve deeper. Thompson is wonderfully cast as a woman full of contradictions and paradoxes, of complicated and unexpressed desires. Negga lights up the screen everytime she's on. Riveting and impossible not to take one's eyes off her.
The color, the music, the dialogues, the period-specific particularities were all convincing. It is like chamber jazz: intimate and you feel included in the musical conversation. I do want to read Nella Larsen's novel as counterpoint. I love this film.
Still waters run deep.
I couldn't tell if I was making this up, but I thought I caught hints of characters potentially "passing" for straight as well, Bill Camp's character in particular. His character is apparently based on a real-life gay critic. But I couldn't tell if all the focus on the loveless marriage between Tessa Thompson and Andre Holland was supposed to be just that - loveless - or if we were meant to infer she may be able to "pass" in more ways than one. When Thompson's character is upset at the strengthening bond between Holland and Negga, which one is she jealous of?
Enjoyed the film quite a bit. I had read the novel before, but so long ago I'd forgotten much of it. It was a pleasant reacquaintance.
I loved the film and thought it was a wonderful adaptation of the book. It's not a huge piece of literature, but the bulk of it is so internal and Rebecca Hall definitely proved she was up to the task of translating a story that takes place mainly in its main character's head. I do think there is a little less intensity in the final act of the film compared to the book, where Irene's paranoia/suspicion begins to take over. But it's beautifully acted and I'm hoping & praying that Tessa can gain momentum in the Best Actress race. She and Ruth Negga are both doing excellent work and I'd love to keep hearing both of their names in the awards conversation as time goes on.
Regarding the issue of who can and can't pass, a lot of people would be very surprised at what some were able to get away with. In the book Irene mentions that people would assume she was some sort of "ethnic" white person or Native American or Latina - and there were plenty of light-skinned Black people who decided to pass that way. Look at Johnny Cash's first wife, who claimed to just be Italian when she in fact had a mother of partial African-American ancestry (and it showed). When you think about it, it could explain why so many African-Americans are always told that we have "some Indian" in our blood, when in reality a lot of us probably had biracial (Black/white) relatives who passed for something else.
There's a comedian named Robin Cloud who did a documentary series a few years back about a branch of her family tree that passed for white, when they show pictures of those white-passing relatives (who also claimed to be Italian) it was shocking how obviously Black they looked. Anyone who finds the casting in this film "unbelievable" should check it out (it's on Youtube, just search for "passing documentary"). The casting also serves the purpose of reinforcing the Black perspective, I admire Hall's choice to choose women who are identifiably Black to the modern eye.
Patrick -- this is a beautiful piece. I'm so happy people are responding so strongly to this movie because it's just an excellent piece of art. So fascinating and interpretrable.
Finbar -- i agree with Dan that 'passing' would have involved different things back in the day, the same way that gay people didn't used to be as easily identifiable to heteronormartive society as they are now. If the person looking doesn't the imagination or the curiousity to assume that someone might not be what you perceive them to be... i totally bought it.
James -- ooh that's an interesting take. I hadn't really thought that through about Bill Camp's character but i do remember thinking 'what is his deal? maritally speaking' and i loooove the depiction of the friendship between him and Tessa Thomson.
James from Ames - I agree on Bill Camp's character. There's definitely a line or a beat or a look (or maybe all three) exchanged between him and Irene in the club scene when I caught that unspoken subtext.
And what thefilmjunkie and Dan H said about the plausibility of these women passing. Given the right context, people see what they want to see - or what other people want them to see. The Vivian Cash story is a fascinating one in that regard.
PASSING is what I call an "iceberg" movie - 90% of what's going on is beneath the surface, which takes more work both to convey and to appreciate, and more time to sink in. I actually read the book right after seeing the movie, and am glad I did. It's a beautiful work in its own right (and so short!), but not the easiest to adapt since so much of it takes place inside Irene's consciousness. Kudos to Thompson for successfully embodying what IMO is the more difficult of the two roles - though that's no knock on Negga, who's wonderful as Clare.