Summary
David Fortune’s Color Book is an intimate, breathtaking masterpiece that captures the hurdles and small rewards of parenting and grief. Anchored by phenomenal performances from William Catlett and Jeremiah Alexander Daniels, this soulful feature reminded me exactly why I love film.
Sometimes you have to watch a film and let its soul speak for itself. Films like Color Book do not come around often, and I am so grateful that Netflix decided to platform it. It brings the kind of experience that makes me feel lucky that movies are my passion, my love; I’m glad that I critique and analyze them, but sometimes, all I have to do is watch and just appreciate a film for what it is. Director David Fortune has created a story that beautifully exists in a moment where the characters are unaware of the audience looking in – a window of time that feels important as soon as the film rolls.
Color Book follows devoted father Lucky (William Catlett, True Story) and his son Mason (Jeremiah Alexander Daniels), who has Down syndrome. The film suggests early on that the father and son are grieving the loss of the mother – a tragedy in the family that has changed lives forever. Their dynamic as just father and son is implied as a unique situation for both of them through clever direction and patient filmmaking; the director understands that characters need to breathe. As the story develops, we begin to witness an entire day between them – one where Mason insists on going to his first baseball game. His father, who is evidently showing up in ways above what he’s used to, puts what energy he has left into venturing out into the world to try and get to this game. He’s reluctant at first, but his fatherly instincts drive him to give his boy the experience he asked for.
The title Color Book comes from Mason; throughout the film, he constantly draws in his coloring book – usually a memory or an event that he’s experienced. Given his limited communication capacity, the coloring book is an effective plot device, as it proves to be Mason’s secondary way of communicating outside of his father leading him in conversation.
There are many nuances like this in the film; it’s evident that the director respected the hardships, but also the small rewards, of raising a disabled child throughout the day. The film juxtaposes the mental resilience the father must muster alongside his moments of tempted weakness – where he feels like giving up, or where he wants to take the easier path. But, through his love for his son, and assumedly a vow to his deceased partner, he powers through the day for the betterment of the family.
The film isn’t remarkably clever – though some audiences will likely roll their eyes at the use of black-and-white cinematography, signifying that it’s “arty” – it just beautifully understands parenting at a raw human level, and how some parents have to endure hellish challenges just to normalize a day. Bracing for loss and grief is difficult, obviously, but summoning the courage to take that head-on as an unexpected single parent in horrific circumstances would seem impossible – especially with a child with limited mental capacity. That is exactly what Color Book encapsulates in the medium of film, in the best way I could imagine.
William Catlett and Jeremiah Alexander Daniels are natural in front of the camera; many scenes feel normal, only to become breathtaking as they both ramp up their performances during the peaks and troughs of the story. Out of respect, as I would hate to make assumptions, I researched Jeremiah Alexander Daniels and learned he is a proud actor with Down syndrome – and he has already been recognized at festivals and won accolades for his performance. It does not surprise me whatsoever that these two actors have earned plaudits from critics and audiences alike; their performances excel well beyond the script. Little dialogue is needed – watching them both navigate their characters through the world is loud enough. And it’s loud in so many intriguing and thought-provoking ways.
The only concern with Color Book that crossed my mind – albeit briefly, as I was blown away by its obvious achievement – is whether pacing would be an issue, especially with a premise that speaks for itself and features few narrative objectives. However, David Fortune and his camerawork pay dividends with such an intimate portrait of these characters’ lives that everything flows succinctly. There is never a scene that overextends its welcome or drags. There is a purpose and a message driven throughout without any need to plunge into arthouse theatrics.
No matter how you look at it – from cinematography to soundtrack, to Black American culture, to direction, script, and acting – Color Book works. It invites you to look into its soul and understand what these characters are feeling and enduring in what looks like a relatively simple, but not simple, day. There is nothing I would change. I adored what was created here, and it reminded me exactly why I love films.
