In 1955, while on a trip to Mississippi to visit his cousins, Emmett Till (Jalyn Hall) was the victim of a brutal lynching.  At the request of his mother, Mammie Till-Mobey (Danielle Deadwyler), Emmett’s body is returned to Chicago for burial.  Medgar Evers (Tosin Cole), a leader in the Civil Rights movement helps Mammie through her grief but also helps her use this tragedy as a national platform to help the advancement of rights for African Americans.  Mammie decides on an open-casket viewing for her son so that the nation can see the damage white supremacy has done to countless others before Emmett, and this decision helped lead to criminal charges being levied against Roy Bryant (Sean Michael Weber) and JW Milam (Eric Whitten) in a landmark case. 

Released by United Artists under the Orion brand, Till is an emotional historical drama directed by Chinonye Chukwu who co-wrote the script with Michael Reilly and Keith Beauchamp.  The film comes brandished with a PG-13 rating, and while it does not shy away from the horrible death of young Emmett, it handles the legacy with the utmost respect and care.  In this way, it is an incredibly accessible film for audiences of all ages and can help to open the door to conversations about the current state of race relations in the country today.  Some of the most important moments of the film, the core takeaways, come in the closing title cards that highlight the importance of the Civil Rights movement and how far we have come as a nation, but it does not allow for too much self-congratulation because Chukwu et al remind us that there is a lot of work still to be done. 

The 130-minute film has three distinct arcs, smartly constructed in a simple manner to make sure the message is received loud and clear.  There are no narrative tricks at play here.  The first arc places Hall front and center as Emmett Till.  Despite knowing how his fate will unfold, Hall fills his performance with youthful exuberance and joy and Chukwu’s direction ensures audiences get to witness this without an overwhelming sense of dread.  Till, despite its subject matter, is not necessarily a dark film, but it is powerful.  It is important but not self-righteous as it seeks to tell Emmett’s story in a level-headed and matter-of-fact manner.  There is also a great deal of respect and compassion shown by the filmmakers towards Emmett and Mammie, and while the nature of the film requires an examination of grief, it does not feel exploitative. 

After the lynching, the film shifts focus to Mammie for the second and third acts as she goes through the grief of losing her son and the decision to use this tragedy as a national platform to call for expanded rights for African Americans.  Throughout the course of the film, it asks Deadwyler to walk the thin line between emotion and melodrama.  Her simmering performance has moments of intensity where the camera gazes at her, unflinching and unafraid to be messy in her grief, and these high notes are sure to garner the attention of voters as the Awards cycle begins to hum to life. It is here, too, where she can play with the supporting cast with an incredible amount of poise and grace. There is a moment towards the beginning of the courtroom sequences where she confronts Moses Wright (John Douglas Thompson), the uncle who Emmett was staying with at the time of the attack. It is a short scene, but a pivotal one that has the unfortunate potential to be overlooked from some of the more bombastic scenes, but it is one of the finest moments in the whole film as she welcomes the whole family into the grief, acceptance, and forgiveness needed to persevere. 

The third section of the film, though, is where things begin to get a little loose. The courtroom scenes are lacking the depth and energy needed to really stick the landing as far as attention spans are concerned. They are tough scenes to film given the still and structured nature of the space, and it requires all the actors involved to really bring their A-game to those scenes so that the performances can carry the narrative. It also has the added hurdle that the bad guys get off in the end. It places audiences in a desperate situation, and to see the blatant lies spewed by shop owner Carolyn Bryant (Haley Bennett) as she testifies under oath and greatly skews her recollection of her interaction with Emmett which led to his murder. Bennett also seems very unsure in the role, and to be generous, her character is only ever seen to be lying on screen so it would be a hard role to break into, but she is lacking the conviction to really sell the role to audiences. It is not that there are any shades of sympathy which the script shows her, this confusion all stems from a lack of character building on the page as if we are missing one or two vital moments in that first act.

Compounding this discomfort is the off-the-cuff testimony by Sheriff Strider (Brendan Patrick Connor) and the clear bias held by Judge Curtis Swango (Tim Ware), and while it certainly places audiences into the shoes of the prosecution, it serves as some uncomfortable foreshadowing to a certain lax 2022 trial of an Antioch, IL teen. The message at this point is clear, and while it is notable for the film not to flinch and spare the audience of these parallels, the way Chukwu then seems to hurry and wrap things up is a true disservice as she does not allow for decompression, examination, and most importantly, the galvanization of resolve. 

The finale, Mammie leaving the courtroom before the verdict is read, is scored triumphantly by Abel Korzeniowski who, up until now, had played every note on the nose to really drive home the emotional register of the scene. For all the praise the film does deserve, the score actually detracts from much of its success because it does not trust the script or audiences to form their own emotional investment. Chukwu is afraid to let the film sit in silence for any real duration, and this final piece seems strangely out of place until a time jump that finds Mammie in New York addressing a crowd as a newly crowned pioneer for Civil Rights. After her speech, the title cards wrap up any loose ends from the cut away from the courthouse and the future of those involved. It would be interesting to see the film restructured and to allow a different ending that would go on to show more of the work in which Mammie was instrumental in achieving instead of regulating these triumphs to the titles cards, but that would risk the, for lack of a better term, easy to digest narrative. The film is built in such a way to be able to be shown to the widest possible audience, and with Bobby Bukowski’s candy-colored cinematography, it is able to achieve that while not shying away from the gravity of Emmett’s death. To focus too heavily on the legal battles which Mammie waged later in life could have caused Till to stumble even more in its ending scenes without a total tear down and restructuring of the script from page one. 

Till is a tough narrative to break into, not only because of the subject matter but in its natural progression of story beats. After the lynching, there is no joy left in the film. Emmet’s exuberance is contagious and it is understandable that there would not be much celebration in the second two acts, but it sets up a tonal disconnect with what we see on screen. The colors and the score and the bright, constant lighting without any context bring about warm feelings, but the action on screen is nothing less than heartbreaking; a tragedy through a Hallmark Channel lens. Chukwu brings the story to screens in a successful and, importantly, respectful, manner. The direction for all of the below-the-line craft behind Till, however, while resulting in a uniform look and feel, unfortunately, creates an identity that works against the performers on screen leaving audiences feeling confused as the composition seems to be built for a different film than the one the actors rehearsed for and shot.