Passing Full Book
Faustina Bartsch
Passing is a 2021 American historical drama film written and directed by Rebecca Hall in her feature directorial debut. It is adapted from the 1929 novel of the same name by Nella Larsen. Set in 1920s New York City, the film follows the intertwined life of a black woman (Tessa Thompson) and her white-passing childhood friend (Ruth Negga). Appearing in supporting roles are Andr Holland, Bill Camp, Gbenga Akinnagbe, Antoinette Crowe-Legacy, and Alexander Skarsgrd. It was filmed in black-and-white.
The film received acclaim from critics, who praised Hall's screenplay and direction, and the performances of Thompson and Negga. The film was named one of the top ten films of 2021 by the African American Film Critics Association.[2] For her performance, Negga was nominated for the Golden Globe Award, the BAFTA and the Screen Actors Guild Award for Best Supporting Actress.
In 1920s New York City, Irene Redfield, a light-skinned black woman living in Harlem, meets a childhood friend, Clare Bellew, by chance at a hotel dining room. Irene is married to a Black doctor. She learns that Clare has been "passing" as white and has married a wealthy white man from Chicago.
Clare invites Irene to her hotel room, so they can talk more openly. Clare explains that after her father died, she was raised by her two white aunts. She married her husband, John, when she was very young. They are interrupted by John, who openly despises and degrades Black people, unaware of his wife's or Irene's racial background. Irene leaves the hotel, angry with Clare, and refuses to respond, when Clare writes to her. But, after Clare unexpectedly shows up at Irene's home and apologizes for the encounter, they rekindle their friendship.
Clare wants to associate with Black people, again, and invites herself to a dance party that Irene is organizing. Most of the guests at the party find Clare charming, including Irene's husband, Brian. That evening, Irene reveals Clare's secret to her friend, novel writer Hugh Wentworth, who seems less impressed with Clare than the others.
As time passes, Clare becomes involved in all aspects of Irene's life, often joining Irene and Brian to their outings. At first, Irene seems happy to have Clare around, but soon, she becomes disillusioned with her and starts to resent her presence. Brian, also dissatisfied, attempts to teach his and Irene's children about some of the harshness of racism in America, as Irene refuses to move anywhere else. Irene believes that the children are too young to learn about the worst events, and she and Brian argue about it, further straining their marriage. Brian invites Clare to a tea party from which Irene has purposely excluded her.
When out shopping with her friend, Felise, who is obviously Black, Irene encounters John. She hurries away, as he begins to realize the truth about his wife's racial background. Irene tries to warn Clare but decides against it, when she is unable to reach her by phone.
As Brian, Irene, and Clare are on their way to Felise's Christmas party on the top floor of a six-story building, Irene asks Clare what she would do if John ever learned the truth. Clare replies that she would move back to Harlem to be with Irene, who is troubled by this. During the party, Irene remains silent, avoiding the other guests. She opens a large vertical window to smoke.
Suddenly, John angrily forces himself into the apartment, demanding to see Clare. She remains calm and moves next to Irene, by the window. John accuses her of being a "dirty liar" and lunges towards her. Clare falls backward, out the window, but it is not clear whether John or Irene pushed her or if she deliberately jumped.
In horror, the other guests rush outside, not knowing whether Clare is dead. Irene slowly goes downstairs, where the police are questioning guests. Brian says that he believes John pushed Clare, but, when asked, Irene says that she believes the fall was an accident. The film ends with the police declaring death by misadventure, Irene sobbing in Brian's arms, and Clare's body being carried away by medics.
It was announced in August 2018 that Rebecca Hall would be making her directorial debut on the adaptation of the Nella Larsen novel, with Tessa Thompson and Ruth Negga set to star in the lead roles.[3]
Hall had begun writing the screenplay a decade earlier, upon reflecting on her own family's history. Her American mother, an opera singer, was of mixed race and some of her relatives passed as white, while her father was a white British film and theatre director.
With less than a month to go before filming and production set to begin, Hall was still $500,000 short on her desired $10 million budget. She applied for two grants, to cover the difference.[8] Filming began in November 2019, in New York City.[9]
The film is in black and white. Benjamin Lee of The Guardian praised the use of a 4:3 aspect ratio, as in this film, it was "both fitting and practical, given a smaller budget".[10] Into the third week of filming, the Hugh Wentworth role, originally intended for Benedict Cumberbatch, remained uncast. Budgetary realities and the tight filming timeline meant the production would need an actor who lived in New York. On November 21, Bill Camp signed on, and filming wrapped in December after a 23-day shoot.[8]
Passing had its world premiere at the 2021 Sundance Film Festival on January 30, 2021.[11] Shortly after, Netflix acquired distribution rights to the film for around $15 million.[12] It also screened at the New York Film Festival on October 3, 2021.[13][14] The film had a limited theatrical release on October 27, 2021, prior to streaming on Netflix on November 10.[15]
Kevin Maher of The Times gave the film 4 out of 5 stars, calling it, "a mesmerizing, deeply disquieting experience."[19] Jessica Kiang, writing for Variety, said that the film is "unerring, deceptively delicate, quiet and immaculate, like that final fall of snow."[20]
In his review for The Guardian, Peter Bradshaw praised Hall's direction, calling the film, "a very stylish piece of work from Hall."[21] Benjamin Lee of The Guardian, gave the film a negative review of 2 out of 5 stars, arguing that it had "disappointing lack of verve" and was "inert".[10]
I have a bone to pick with the LGBTI community, and that bone is named "straight passing." You see, a common thing bi people hear is that we're "privileged" because we can "pass as straight." I don't buy this. I don't think that being viewed as "straight" by people, queer and straight, is a privilege. It's invisibility. It's a life of being forced to live in the closet. That, in my opinion, is the opposite of privilege.
It's amazing to me how this phenomenon is called "straight passing" when it comes to bi people, but it's correctly called "being in the closet" when applied to gay men and lesbians. When someone references being in the closet, there's an immediate negative connotation to it. It's seen as a bad thing. You're not usually there because you want to be, and if you are there by "choice," it's because you've deemed the closet as being safer than being out.
For bi people, the latter is usually true. This is especially true for bi women. The numbers for sexual assault, rape, abuse, and stalking are astronomically high for us. For example, a 2010 study by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention found that a full 61.1% of bisexual women had experienced rape, physical violence, or stalking by an intimate partner. That's 26.1% more than straight women and 17.3% more than lesbian women.
When you use the phrase "straight passing," there's this image of, well, privilege. It makes it sound as if we're purposely pretending to be straight in order to get all the special things straight people get. It makes it sound as if we're somehow ashamed of our bi-ness and trying to run and hide from it. That couldn't be farther from the truth. The invisibility forced upon us from being in the closet and seen as exclusively straight or gay is damaging. Being seen as only straight or gay means that we're grouped in with these groups, and issues directly affecting us are either severely underfunded or completely overlooked.
In addition to all of this, it simply does not make sense to claim "passing as straight" (i.e., being in the closet) is a privilege. I get to live the rest of my life in the closet, never acknowledging my love for or attraction to people of the same gender? That sounds just peachy! Deliberately limiting who I allow myself to express love and attraction to? That's just the greatest.
It's such a privilege to have a major part of myself rendered invisible for the rest of my life and into the afterlife. Why into the afterlife? Because no one will say the dreaded b-word after I'm dead and gone. I'll just be straight (or gay, depending on who I last slept with) for the rest of eternity.
We need to divorce ourselves from the idea that queer oppression can only be experienced in one particular way. While I may not have to worry about holding my partner's hand in public if they happen to be a man or perceived as a man, I do have to worry about my bisexuality being instantly erased. For the bi non-binary person, they have to worry about being misgendered as either strictly a man or woman so they can be packaged neatly into the gay/straight binary. Once people find out that we don't fit neatly into their little sexuality boxes, things don't tend to go well.
Stop and think for a moment before calling a bi person "straight passing" and claiming they have privilege because of it. We're not. We're in the closet. We're either in the closet for our own safety or because we've been forcibly put there by people who don't believe us when we say we're bi. If everyone else isn't "straight passing" when they're in the closet, neither are we.
That girl came with me to junior high and even high school. Even as my hair became wiry with puberty, the frizziness soon a universal topic in the girls' bathroom as girls began their marriages to the straight iron, I became aware that I read no differently. Another curly-haired white girl who wished that her hair was straight.
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