They don't just flee the scene. They flee their lives as they once knew them. They toss their cell phones out the window. They drive, moving forward, always forward, attempting to get to Florida. They wonder if they can somehow make it to Cuba. There will be no going back. Meanwhile, the dash cam footage of the altercation with the cop goes viral, and the two become reluctant folk heroes. Wherever they go, people recognize them, help them, hide them: it's a modern-day Underground Railroad.
"Queen & Slim" is a road movie, more than it is anything else. Although one supporting character refers to them as "the black Bonnie and Clyde," the connection doesn't fit. Bonnie and Clyde, famously, robbed banks. They were criminals. But the characters in "Queen & Slim" are not criminals. They were minding their own business, and cooperating with the cop who pulled them over. You shouldn't be shot during a routine traffic stop. Their fleeing is, at first, an act of self-preservation. She is a defense attorney. She knows they won't get a fair shake.
Matsoukas is mostly known for her music videos, many of which are rightly famous (Beyoncé’s “Formation,” for one), and she establishes powerful atmospheres in "Queen & Slim", using real-life locations in interesting and often eye-catching ways. (Tat Radcliffe was the cinematographer). Lena Waithe's script was based on an idea given to her by James Frey, of all people, the author who disgraced himself with his fake memoir A Million Little Pieces. Frey gave her the premise, and she ran with it. Waithe and Matsoukas have collaborated together before, and there is a singularity of purpose at work in "Queen & Slim." Matsoukas juxtaposes disparate images to create destabilizing effects, mood swings, emotional shifts. Sometimes the juxtaposition feels intellectualized and abstract, and this strains the connections being made. There are some big "set piece" scenes which don't quite fit together.
But where Matsoukas' style and heart and palpable sense of purpose really works is in the quiet moments, the still moments, the moments where "Queen & Slim" is allowed to breathe. At 132 minutes, there's a lot of room to breathe, and it's a wonderful experience watching a film where the characters are given so much space. Matsoukas does not feel rushed, she does not feel like she needs to hurry them along from place to place. The film lingers in its scenes. This might be the most radical thing about "Queen & Slim," its willingness to linger in the quiet in-between moments. There are very stressful sequences, but then there are other sequences, like the two of them stopping to look at horses in a field, or dancing in a backwoods blues club, finally relaxed enough to enjoy each other.
ncG1vNJzZmivp6x7s7vGnqmempWnwW%2BvzqZmq52mnrK4v46qrJ6dnmKur7CMrKOipV2ivLe1xGapnq6ZmsRufo9qcA%3D%3D