Review: Passing, a film adaptation by Rebecca Hall

"All of us are passing for something or other. Aren't we?"

Image: IMDb

Rebecca Hall’s Passing opens on an overexposed shot of pavement, washed-out and a blinding white – much like the whiteness that haunts this story. The bustling of Harlem streets become clearer as the frame comes into focus, and the camera pans up to reveal two women walking into a shop. The duality of these women is one that will be central to the film, but through the relationship between Clare Kendry (Ruth Negga) and Irene Redfield (Tessa Thompson). Schoolmates and friends, Clare and Irene reunite by chance after years of separation. Irene learns that Clare has been 'passing' for white, while Irene herself has immersed in 1920s Black culture in Harlem. They reconnect, and both women quickly become infatuated with the life that the other has chosen.

Passing, and the notion of 'passing'

Based on the novel of the same name, Nella Larsen’s Passing is a modern classic. Written in 1929 at the height of the Harlem Renaissance, little is known about Nella Larsen herself. She led a life of obscurity, and died with no family succeeding her. The novel’s legacy lives on for the raw and candid questions it poses about identity. Not just about race, but gender and sexuality as well.

"It's funny about ‘passing’. We disapprove of it and at the same time condone it. It excites our contempt and yet we rather admire it. We shy away from it with an odd kind of revulsion, but we protect it.”

Passing. “The act of going past a person or thing” [Cambridge Dictionary]. Notions of ‘passing’ during the Harlem Renaissance referred to those who ‘passed’ as white in their societies. In 1920s Harlem, ideas of the 'New Negro' were established and prevalent. Furthermore, mixed-race women were the subjects of art pieces, photographs, and illustrations - solidifying this as the face of the 'New Negro' Woman. This made it challenging for women who did not resemble the idealised trope to be any sort of activist for their race or gender. Novels that place mixed-race women as their protagonists – such as Nella Larsen and Jessie Fauset – wrote extensively about the experience of these women. They demonstrated that the standards placed upon them inadvertently fostered an alienation of the mixed-race woman in society. If anything, narratives of 'passing' demonstrate the demanding, if not unattainable, aesthetic implications of (Black) womanhood.

Archibald J. Motley Jr., "The Octoroon Girl" (1925) Image courtesy of Whitney Museum of American Art

Opportunity! Magazine, July 1926

The Octoroon Girl, frequently paired with Larsen’s novels, depicts a mixed-race woman - her dressing and presentation solidifies in the minds of the public the black middle-class, intellectual woman. There is also something melancholic about the painting, as she is sat in the shadows with a sombre expression on her face. For this, perhaps, it makes the perfect depiction of Larsen’s tragic protagonists.

Duality and Desire

Image: Netflix

Clare and Irene are both victims of the hierarchy of colour - yet Irene lives by the rules of race, while Clare chooses to manipulate the system by 'passing'. Both women are still unhappy; Clare jumps at the chance to assimilate into Black culture (with Irene’s family and friends), while Irene watches Clare intently throughout the film as moments of moral conflict surround Clare's choice to enact the notion of 'passing' in her everyday life. She is at first offended by Clare’s dismissal of her race, but then also shows moments of envy – and even desire – for this lifestyle. In effect, it is clear that both women demonstrate a deep wanting for each other’s lives.

Critics have pointed out that the connection between Clare and Irene was not just at the cause of race, but also queer sensuality and desire. Hall plays on imagery of tenderness and tension between the film’s protagonists, and these shots highlight the duality of their relationship. It foregrounds the feminine relationship that is central to the film, and emphasises the contrast in the lives they have chosen to live. It also opens questions regarding their perceived “moral rightness” when it comes to the politics of colour. And all paired with the use of the 4:3 aspect ratio in black and white, for what better way to tell a story of colour by removing colour from its visual presentation?

Clare’s characterisation is interesting; she exudes seamlessly a carefree, confident, and playful allure that attracts everyone she comes across. She seems to almost revel in the power she has over others – clearly manipulating a racial system that does not favour her for who she truly is. However, the film allows us to see her in moments of insecurity, where it is clear that what she has sought after and obtained isn't enough. Through 'passing' she ultimately falls victim to a system of oppression, enacting characteristics of the oppressed in order to avoid discrimination. Her sudden death is truly tragic; emphasising her loneliness and alienation as a result of her passing. She is trapped in a false identity that she created – not an identity created for herself but for a society that would otherwise villainise her.

As I write this, I am increasingly aware that this story depicts so many layers of truth and narrative interpretation I have not even begun to address. The film, even more so, explores the explicit and implicit with a grace in its storytelling. Rebecca Hall has unequivocally brought to life a story that is stunning, elegant and impactful – all at once.