Syncopated Love (Love Jones, 1997)

I confess this was my first time seeing 1997's Love Jones, staring Larenz Tate and Nia Long. But, hey, better late than never, right? (I wish my professors shared that sentiment). And the verdict is… I really liked it. This movie was made in the hay-day of the Black romance movie, which I like to think of as the late nineties and early two thousands. This era includes hits like The Best Man and Brown Sugar, and stars like Taye Diggs and Sanaa Lathan, whose marriage I will patiently await until the day I die. So, in my defense, these films were a part of the “Micah, close your eyes… No, actually go upstairs and watch Disney”-era. I think I will finally feel like an adult when I finally watch another Nia Long favorite, Soul Food.

80’s romantic comedies are something that I have seen, though. The scene between Darius and Nina in the record store reminded me of John Hughes’ Pretty In Pink (my not-so-guilty pleasure). I don’t know if that was intentional, but I liked how it harkened back to something classic and familiar, then turned it on its head. It took something I recognized and expanded on it, giving new perspective. Love Jones does that a lot.

Although this film is centered around a love story that pulls on heartstrings, it’s not “cute”. Cute is what you’d use for 27 Dresses. Love Jones is much deeper than that—it’s rhythmic. It felt like a good song. This story was artfully projected without being corny. Well, aside from Darius’ name and his first few pick-up lines. I mean “Lovehall"? Really!? 

Love Jones’ power was in the tempo of the words and in the melody of the plot’s movement. The poetry of this movie, like “Brother To The Night (A Blues For Nina),” mirrors the film itself—rhythm-drenched words paired with rich blues and jazz. Darius’ friend Eddie describes poetry as “the possibility of words” and Darius says that, “Romance is about the possibility of the thing.” Possibility. That’s the point here. Darius goes on to say that he’s “the blues in [her] left thigh, trying to become the funk in [her] right.” **snaps** I think that trying is the important word here. Because Darius and Nina never really achieve romantic or relational perfection, the film is more of a continuous journey than a hear-warming success story. See, the film makes Black love a reality instead of an unachievable fantasy. It shows the hardships of relationships. And even though this love story is beautiful, it’s beauty is derived from gritty truth not from a perfect Eurocentric fairytale mold. I can’t say that I’ve ever been in love, but I would believe Love Jones before I believe in Cinderella. Perfection is a subjective standard that leaves us empty. Possibility is an idea that possesses hope and honesty. 

Despite never having a lot of the experiences portrayed in this movie, I found myself connecting to it. I think that has to do with the intersection of Black art portrayed here. Poetry, music, and photography are all present in this film. There was a clear jazz undertone, both literally and figuratively. This harkens back to another time when art was overflowing, changing, and melding—The Harlem Renaissance, and even The Black Arts Movement. There is a unifying, intangible, and practically inexplicable aesthetic that exists in Black art. When watching Love Jones I often found myself caught up in the music or wanting to snap in agreement with the poetry. These art forms intertwined in such a way that focusing on one did not take away from the other, but instead supported it. For example, during the many moments in the story that would give me a parental death sentence, I would be so pleasantly mesmerized by the color and rhythm that I could find something in that scene that resonated with me. I believe that there are different Black experiences. However, I think that the best Black art strikes a cultural chord that can be understood universally. This Theodore Witcher classic does that. 

That said, maybe my fondness of this film just boils down to the fact that I could spend all day listening to poetry and talking about art, or that I dig Darius’ vinyls (I proudly named my record player Bertha-Symone.) Maybe it’s that Nia Long’s hair was perpetually laid, but she was symbolically willing to sacrifice aesthetic beauty for her heart. Any way you slice it, Love Jones affirmed my belief in Black love. We need more movies like that.