‘The Forty-Year-Old Version’ Review | Finding a Voice
Radha Blank creates an inspiring redemption story about a Black female playwright turning her midlife crisis into a passion.
Forty-Year-Old Version (2020) is a witty, critical, autobiographical, hybrid film that tells the story of how a Black female playwright in New York turns to rap when her theater career hits a dead end. The film is written and directed by Radha Blank who is an actual playwright. She even plays the main character which is a version of herself. She is very aware of herself and critical of her experience from her career to her age. Blank combines her real self with a fictional projection to create an artist struggling to find a voice.
The film focuses on Radha and her newfound creative outlet. Initially, she finds rap after a racially tense conversation with a famous theater producer, Josh played by Reed Birney, that she ended up choking and eventually broke down crying. It’s one of this film’s many painful yet hilarious moments with this ambitious, struggling artist. When Radha starts rapping, it’s clear she doesn’t need much help. She has a natural talent that excites us as viewers because her lyrical style is fresh, gritty, and honest while her flow keeps us grounded with its old school influence and emphasized diction. She raps about what it’s like to be a middle-aged, Black, female artists in New York City and about the harsh realities of Black poverty. The rap scenes are intense and intimate because most of them occur in her apartment alone or in her producer’s, D’s, studio. The musical artist, Oswin Benjamin plays D. Eric Branco’s cinematography is incredible. The black and white film style feels like a sharper ’90s rap music video with a shallow depth of field. The B&W emphasizes the racial tension in the film. A fisheye lens is used in these scenes to make Radha’s face pop as the camera bounces with the music.
Radha is pulled back into theater by her best friend and agent, Archie played by Peter Y. Kim. The producer she choked gives her another chance to produce her play about a hardworking black family in Harlem that deals with gentrification. Here’s the catch: Josh has completely white-washed the play and changed its entire message from gentrification is an injustice to uncomfortable, new-agey Black and White unity. Radha is devastated that her creation is ruined but decides to run with it. But in doing something she hates, we can tell she is unhappy.
The film revolves around two incredibly different worlds; the high-stress, white-dominated, professional theater industry and the laid-back, subcultural, underground rap world. It showcases two very different sides of New York but both are equally authentic. As it moves between these two mediums, the film showcases a very real struggle as an artist: finding a voice. Radha goes through a lot of failure and frustration and even tries to leave rap as the pressure of her play climbs in her psyche. Even though her friends’ comments are critical, her real obstacle is her own self-doubt. All these failed attempts in being a recognized artist make the audience hungry for her success. The film has a smart narrative structure because it keeps building on a tension of possible stardom or potential social death of anonymity. The film ends with a well-needed, spontaneous act of self-ownership. It is truly liberating. You should see it for yourself.
Not only does Forty-Year-Old Version create an inspiring story for all artists, especially those who are marginalized, about finding a voice but it also features an important secondary theme worth note. This film is a celebration of Black culture and art. Many inspirations went into making this film including music videos from a Tribe Called Quest and Queen Latifah, Spike Lee’s She’s Gotta Have It (1986), and Carrie Mae Weems’ photography about herself in contemplation which is why there are so many mirror shots in the film. There are even some of Delphine Fawundu’s and Simone Leigh’s artwork in the set design of the apartments (Netflix Film Club). The appreciation becomes more intimate when Blank incorporates her own family heritage in the film.
About two-thirds of the way through the film, one scene feels like the calm eye of a hurricane in this endless struggle. Radha explores her family history with D in pillow talk. The scene begins with a wide, mirror shot which conveys the scene’s reflective tone (#1).
When Radha starts talking about her mom as an artist and her father as a jazz musician, we cutaway to archival stills of her mother’s work. This avant-garde technique is used here to connect the character’s story to Blank’s real-life (#2).
We cut back to the wide of D and Radha on the bed. Radha really dives into how her family were also artists and she said she would never struggle like them but look at her now. This long mirror wide keeps the intimacy of the scene and makes us listen (#3).
Radha continues to talk about her father and how hard he would work just to stay an artist. We cut to archival stills of her dad drumming, a family photo, and her dad’s album cover (#4).
We have another cutaway to the mirror when D starts to talk about his relationship with his mother and music. D goes onto say that both their moms are proudly looking down on them. We cutaway to a still again. Finally, we have a clear shot of Radha’s mother which we haven’t had until this point in the plot (#5).
As the two characters bond over their unfortunate connection (their moms both died), they feel a powerful understanding. D starts to beatbox and then rolls into a freestyle about all the things he would tell his mom. The camera cuts to a medium shot of both of them silhouetted. Radha then spits a verse of her own. The camera jumps and Radha starts to cry as D comforts her (#6).
This scene encompasses everything that Forty-Year-Old-Version conveys. The film wrestles with self-reflection, the struggling artist, and a celebration of Black culture in a thrilling, comedic self-analysis that has universal influence due to its intimacy.
