Based on a popular
nonfiction book by real-life criminal-turned-activist Robert “Sonny” Carson,
this deeply flawed drama tries to frame the crisis of African-American gang
violence within a larger context of racial marginalization. Had the picture
been executed with more responsibility and sophistication, it could easily have
become one of the seminal black films of the ’70s. Instead, the movie reaches
far beyond its grasp, because despite lots of grandiose talk about how the
title character is the innocent victim of a cruel system, the storytellers tend
to put the cart before the horse—in other words, they offer sociopolitical
explanations for Sonny’s criminal acts after he’s committed them, which creates
the effect of convenient justification instead of legitimate proof. What the
film has to say may in fact be correct and important, but the argument is made
poorly.
At the beginning of his journey, Sonny (played as a child by Thomas
Hicks) is a tough street kid in a Brooklyn neighborhood filled with gang
violence. After serving a stretch in juvenile detention for petty theft, Sonny
(played as an adult by Rony Clayton), joins street gang the Lords and becomes friends with
fellow member Lil Boy (Jerry Bell). When Lil Boy is killed during a huge
brawl with a rival gang, Sonny steals money to pay for flowers at Lil Boy’s
funeral. This puts Sonny in the crosshairs of vicious cop Pilgilani (Don
Gordon), who beats Sonny before shipping the young man off to prison. (Yes, the
movie is so blunt that the main cop has a name including the word “pig.”)
While
the preceding events might seem as if they should comprise merely the first 20
minutes of screen time, setting up Sonny’s odyssey through punishment and
redemption, it takes more than an hour for Sonny to land in prison. This first
hour of the movie is padded and slow, while the rest is rushed and superficial. Director Michael Campus lingers endlessly on marginal
scenes, like an endless shot of Sonny and his girlfriend riding a ferry past
Liberty Island or a ridiculous scene of a preacher (Ram John Holder) eulogizing
Lil Boy. (There’s a hell of a lot of weeping in The Education of Sonny Carson.)
Even though the storytelling is
clumsy, the notion that audiences are supposed to sympathize with the
going-nowhere lives of inner-city youths comes across. Yet the actual dialogue
in the picture doesn’t convey the message effectively. For instance, when Sonny
asks a parole board who gave the board “the authority to impose your will on
me,” he’s expressing the right sentiment to the wrong people. And so it goes
throughout this frustrating movie, which is so weakly constructed that a key
plot point of heroin addiction plaguing black neighborhoods isn’t even
introduced until the last 10 minutes. There’s an impassioned and soulful drama
buried inside The Education of Sonny
Carson, but sifting through the dissonant and superfluous material takes
work.
The Education of Sonny Carson: FUNKY
This is pretty much how I feel about this movie. I remember when I saw this first time. Didn't even know it existed. I thought "this coulda been a much better movie. It should be".
ReplyDeleteYour review could be without a doubt the origin for the saying “To each his own”.From actor performances, your remarks about specific scenes, all the way to it’s lasting place among films that deal with the “young black male experience” in this country-I find utterly shameful.This movie was released during a time when films that dealt with social injustice and the lasting effects corruption within the law have on young boys(of color in this film),frankly weren’t being made.That was true in 1974,and even in 2020 ! This movie resonates with a lot of those who watch it’s gritty,and realistic views of pre-Giuliani New York (especially the roughest streets of Brooklyn).So to you sir again I’ll end by using a saying that seems to fit here perfectly:
ReplyDelete“What the “F” were you watching”?