Charles Burnett is one of the most important artists to ever work in the medium of film, yet so many people struggle to recognize the name. Without his groundbreaking work, we’d not have developed the strong independent film industry that has allowed so many exciting young filmmakers to have their voices heard. As both a director and writer, he’s been a cinematic force to be reckoned with, often not standing out in the way that he should, but still leaving an indelible impression. His two major works are Killer of Sheep, arguably the greatest independent film ever made (perhaps only surpassed by one of John Cassavetes’ movies), and the fascinating To Sleep With Anger. In between these two major works is Bless Their Little Hearts, which is a slightly different situation, since while Burnett didn’t direct it (instead the equally gifted Billy Woodberry took the reigns), he was still very active in its production – he wrote the screenplay, and served as the film’s cinematographer, meaning that not only do we get a fascinating directorial debut from the talented Woodberry, but we also are privy to more of Burnett’s iconoclastic voice. This film exudes the same kind of energy as Killer of Sheep – a simple, gritty story of a working-class African-American family who exist on the precipice of poverty, doing everything they can to stay afloat, often to very little avail. Naturally, there are many differences, which can probably be cited as being the work of Woodberry inserting his own vision in contrast to Burnett, who often employed a more experimental story, but Bless Their Little Hearts is nonetheless an exceptional piece of filmmaking, and a vitally important entry into the canon of black American cinema, where meaningful stories could be represented on screen, bringing visibility to real issues, and allowing an entire group of people to finally see themselves reflected on screen.

On the topic of representation, it’s often been said that audiences can’t see themselves reflected on screen unless someone sets out to make those films. Bless Their Little Hearts is a perfect encapsulation of this concept, since while it is a very small, relatively obscure film, it tells the kind of story that wasn’t really being told at the time. Hollywood had only recently started to accept narratives centred on the African-American experience into the mainstream, but these were often genre works – blaxploitation was enjoyed by the wider population, and there were the works of many popular comedians like Richard Pryor, Bill Cosby and Eddie Murphy that kept audiences engaged. However, the inherent problems with these films, as entertaining as they may be, is that they didn’t get to the root of the real struggles that was felt by minorities. Burnett was one of the pioneering filmmakers that decided that he wasn’t going to settle for a situation where he needed to filter his radical ideas through the lens of some exuberant comedy or wildly entertaining action or horror film. Instead, he was going to take the revolutionary step to evoke a kind of neo-realism, the kind that was produced quite consistently in the postwar years throughout Europe, but unfortunately were not all that popular in the United States, rarely catching on as a legitimate form of American filmmaking. These films did exist, they just often went unnoticed, which is essentially the reason for the pioneering years of independent cinema, where many filmmakers were given a small but impactful space to have their voice heard. It would appear that both Burnett and Woodberry had the same interest in storytelling, since it resulted in Bless Their Little Hearts, a film fully committed to being a vivid and sincere depiction of the trials and tribulations of a working-class black family growing up on the margins of society.

The purpose of this preamble above was to make the point that American neo-realism is inextricably tied to independent filmmaking, and while Killer of Sheep is the definitive entry into this sub-genre, Bless Their Little Hearts is a perfect companion piece, as they seem to complement each other on both a thematic and atmospheric level. There’s a brutality to this film, a kind of scathing vitriol felt towards the subject matter that is difficult to express in words, since it is something we feel rather than understand. Woodberry takes Burnett’s cutting-edge story, and transforms it into an achingly beautiful account of one man trying to provide for his family, but constantly finding himself struggling to make ends meet. There is a strong story here, and the plot follows a consistent line of logic (it even dares to have a vaguely satisfying ending, where the main character sees some glimmer of hope in his dreadful situation), but the film is executed with the kind of fluidity that has defined most of Burnett’s career. A series of vignettes centred around the main storyline, we peer into the lives of this family, observing their daily routine, as well as the growing animosity that exists between the two parents, whose marriage only becomes more hostile and strained the clearer it becomes that their problems aren’t only temporary, but might be more intimidating than they initially imagined. It can be a difficult film to watch at times, especially since the two artists at the helm were not afraid to showcase the true realities faced by these characters. Charlie and his family are realistic depictions of an ordinary clan existing on a slender thread before descending into complete destitution, and doing all they can to survive, while still trying to maintain a solid familial relationship, which takes an enormous strain as they start to find themselves becoming more desperate, especially when it comes to seeking out the solace of another person, whether it be a friend they can share their troubles with, or the arms of another woman, who gives Charlie what he genuinely believes he needs.

Yet, there’s always hope lurking below the surface, and the film never aims to be truly excruciating, instead operating as more of an honest depiction of a working-class family. Bless Their Little Hearts is a brutal film, but not without reason, since so much of its thematic content comes about through the director’s very direct manner of portraying the lives of these characters. It takes us on a journey into the heart of this family and their troubles, but it never evolves into anything other than a poignant, deeply beautiful exploration of their everyday existences, focusing on their various challenges, and showing that life is composed of moments of both joy and sadness, and that survival is simply trying to find a balance between the two. The character of Charlie is one of independent cinema’s most compelling protagonists, due to the fact that, despite not being a particularly good husband, valiant father or all that hard a worker, he is still a good man trying to do the best for his family, while working through his own flaws. He recognizes his shortcomings, but struggles to resolve them, which is a quality many can relate to in some way, since it’s not always particularly easy to overcome qualities that have been simmering for so long, they’re an indelible part of us. The portrayal of these characters is so vivid, it feels as if we’re peering into a real family, with Burnett’s style of filming them, framing these characters through the lens of a handheld camera, giving the sensation of documentary-style realism. It adds grit and nuance to the narrative, since the unpolished nature of the filmmaking complements the fact that this story centres on an imperfect man leading a life filled with challenges, and doing his best to overcome them, all the while asking himself (and those around him) if anything he does is enough.

The use of relatively unknown actors is another quality that fits in with the independent sensibilities of Bless Their Little Hearts. They’re not quite unprofessional or amateur, but had barely been seen in anything of note before, at least in terms of major productions. However, as is often the case, these performances serve to be incredible discoveries for very gifted actors, who commit to these roles in a way with which even the most major stars would struggle. Nate Hardman is truly exceptional as Charlie, a man trying to make ends meet, all the while attempting to prove his own prowess as a father and husband, even going so far as to assert his rugged masculinity on others, in the hopes of earning the respect and reverence he feels he deserves. Hardman is a revelation – he was not new to acting, having played a number of roles in equally modest productions, but it was Bless Their Little Hearts that seemed to put on on the verge of a breakthrough – and it’s difficult to argue against the belief that he should’ve been able to pursue better opportunities as a result, since his attention to detail in playing the character of Charlie is unprecedented. He brings such depth to the role, each moment feeling absolutely genuine and brimming with an honesty that is difficult to find in more self-aware actors. He surrenders to the role and moves with the flow, while still making his own voice heard. The pinnacle of the film is towards the end, where Charlie and his wife, played beautifully by Kaycee Moore (who was collaborating with Burnett for a second time after her similarly brilliant performance in Killer of Sheep) engage in a bitter argument that seems to be centred around his supposed infidelity, but actually turns out to be a heartbreaking elegy to their declining marriage, with both characters provoking the other and gradually revealing their innermost insecurities in the process.

It’s one of the most shattering portrayals of such an argument ever captured on film, and showcases the fact that, beneath the working-class malaise that defines it, Bless Their Little Hearts is really a film that intends to paint a portrait of the human condition, showing the challenges many face in reconciling their own personal problems with the hostile world around them. These performances are so natural and honest, it’s impossible to walk away from this film without having formed a genuine connection with these characters, which is an impressive achievement for such a small film. Burnett and Woodberry are not afraid to get very close to these characters, both physically and emotionally, and every frame of Bless Their Little Hearts feels absolutely authentic, radiating a kind of honesty that has always been considered profoundly uncinematic by the mainstream, since there is a perception that anything that isn’t traditionally enthralling and thrilling isn’t captivating. However, anyone who immerses themselves in Bless Their Little Hearts and sees how beautifully constructed this film is will undoubtedly find themselves drawn into this world, compelled by the veritable emotion, and genuinely touched by this hauntingly beautiful account of a family trying to find itself in the midst of hardship, moved by the veracity of these lived-in experiences. This is a devastating film, and one that is not afraid to be extremely honest in its depiction of real issues. Modest but unforgettable, and simply mesmerizing in how Burnett and Woodberry manage to get to the pulsating heart of the human condition, Bless Their Little Hearts is an impeccable, heartwrenching domestic drama that wears its heart on its sleeve, and shows us a side of life in a way that is profoundly genuine, to the point where it can veer towards harrowing, but still manages to be one of the most poignant, moving films of its era, and a vitally important piece of cinematic history.