As writers, there are two general guidelines that we are inclined to follow when discussing art – we are supposed to be objective as far as possible, as well as exercise enough restraint to make our arguments nuanced and detailed, using our words to explain why certain work is particularly intriguing. However, there are some subjects where both of these principles are no longer applicable, and the current state of the world makes us wonder whether it is ever possible to speak on certain topics in a way that isn’t only highly subjective, but where nuance is not necessary. Police brutality has become a major problem in all countries, but it seems like something very close to a social crisis in the United States, with the experiences of countless people of colour who find themselves on the receiving end of cruel actions from those who are supposedly assigned to serve and protect has gone past the point of merely being incidental, but is a cultural epidemic, and one that has seen attempts at reform fall apart because the very system on which this violence is built not only refuses to actively condemn these perpetrators but secretly encourages these efforts to assert control. It may be a controversial statement, but it has to be said, especially since it’s a subject that none of us should take lightly. In the case of Monsters and Men, Reinaldo Marcus Green (in his directorial debut, which is in itself very impressive) proves that he has a firm grasp of the subject, telling a harrowing story of a young man who died at the hands of the police, and showcases the experiences of three characters that are loosely connected to the case, watching as they navigate various challenges of their own, all the while trying to make sense of a world that is notoriously hostile to them based on the colour of their skin. Green is a director who is steadily rising as a filmmaker, and the lengths to which he goes to tell this provocative but essential story are staggering – his work is solid, and concise and gets to the heart of the subject without becoming overwrought or convoluted, retaining a level of elegance in-between moments of harrowing psychological despair that will shock even the most cynical of viewers. Haunting and impactful, Monsters and Men is an extraordinary achievement and one of the most moving social dramas of the past decade.

From an outsider’s perspective, the United States seems to be a nation that is struggling to find a resolution between both sides of the political extreme, with the gap between the two being the source of so much of the violence and suffering that seems to be gradually defining the lives of ordinary people, particularly those from minority groups. Green is not a director who seems to be interested in adhering to the rules or playing it safe and instead chooses to create a hostile, uncomfortable atmosphere that may disturb the audience but is covertly challenging us to look beneath the surface, unearthing the secrets that tend to manifest in the smaller recesses of such a film. Monsters and Men is a film about being black in a country in which race is afforded far too much importance in terms of social segregation, which may be legally extinct, but still exists in other ways, being embedded within the culture, especially when it comes to underprivileged areas, or those that contain a large population of minorities. Even those who don’t veer towards political conversations cannot ignore how this film examines the culture in a way that is revealing and deeply unnerving, providing us with a dark and challenging depiction of life in a country regularly cited as being the “land of the free and home of the brave”, which is actively contradicted when we realize just how little agency is awarded to those who don’t fall within the preconceived notions of an idealistic American society. To still be having this discussion in the present day is shocking, and it is made even more disturbing when we realize these events are not restricted to saddening depictions of the past but apply to modernity, which has suffered immensely as a result of the barriers put in place by oppressive systems that seek to divide much more than they intend to unite, which is the fundamental flaw with American society, and the primary reason why we find the events depicted here are authentic to the point of being deeply terrifying since we know how realistic it is to imagine that many of these events are taking place in all parts of the country.

However, Monsters and Men is not only a film about challenging popular conceptions of American society on a bigger scale, but also deconstructing the more intimate elements that drive such a story. This film is as much about socio-political oppression and the resulting movements that seek to not only facilitate unconditional freedom but amplify the voices of those who have been challenged by this system, as it is about what it is like to grow up with challenges inherently placed there by harsh forces that may not always be quite obvious, but play a major part in the division between various strata of society. This is a film that takes a strong approach to the subject of morality and identity, which we understand is not always associated with the characters represented here in more mainstream offerings, but actively forms the foundation of this film. Unquestionably, what Green does with Monsters and Men is extremely moving, even if it seems slightly obvious on the outside – he constructs the story around three men, each one coming from an entirely different background and on varying paths through life, with their only shared characteristic being that they are all people of colour, and witness (whether firsthand or through the subsequent media frenzy) the killing of another unarmed black man, focusing on how each of the three characters reconciles their own identity with the preconceived notions that accompany them based purely on their racial background. In each of these three segments, we see the lives of the characters interweave in unexpected and unique ways, and it reflects the challenges faced by many men who are not quite sure how to function in a society that is so clearly built on division, which would be enough to provoke a deep existential quandary in just about anyone and is used here to fuel a deeply provocative excursion into the minds of these characters and their metaphysical journeys.

Green enlists a terrific cast to help bring this story to life, and, intriguingly, he managed to assemble such a strong ensemble, primarily because they were not as exciting back then as they are today, which only shows how much they have grown as actors in the five years since the first encounters with this film. The film shifts between segments in which Anthony Ramos, John David Washington and Kelvin Harrison, Jr. all hold court, growing into these roles with a fervour and intensity we don’t often see from such clearly defined archetypes. The challenge presented to these actors is to take these one-dimensional characters and infuse them with life and complexity, which is only halfway accomplished in terms of the script. They are all brilliantly portrayed, and the actors seem to have had a strong idea of where they needed to take the characters without losing the plausibility of making us wonder too actively about some of the more complex details that linger just beneath what we can see and perceive based on a cursory glance. Green has a very interesting way of extracting meaningful performances from all of his actors – the leads are all terrific, but kudos are always warranted to the likes of Rob Morgan (one of the most effortlessly reliable actors of his generation) and Jasmine Cephas Jones, who deliver strong supporting performances that are deeply indicative of a sense of genuine compassion for the story from everyone involved. It feels like a communal effort, a group of artists uniting to tell a powerful story that may feel quite conventional on the surface, but is filled to the brim with such meaningful thought, which makes its way to the audience, who can’t help but be transfixed by the various existential storms needing to be weathered by these characters, all of whom know the dangers that lurk just beyond the surface.

As we often see with small, intimate independent dramas, Monsters and Men is a film that flew under the radar, with its most significant cultural cache being in conversations about how Green rose from the obscurity that shrouds many independent filmmakers to become one of the most exciting voices in contemporary cinema. However, this is by far his most impressive film, to the point where we have to wonder whether he took the correct route in pursuing more mainstream work – as well-crafted as King Richard may have been, or with the promise of his upcoming Bob Marley biopic, he is someone who thrives with a more distinct sense of control over the stories he is telling, rather than being hired to helm biographical films that lack the soul that pervades every frame of this incredible story. It’s not an easy film to watch, and we often find ourselves questioning its intentions, since it can veer towards being hopelessly bleak, showing how joy is essentially non-existent in the lives of some individuals, which may be true in some contexts. However, like any good independent film, Monsters and Men understands the virtue of simplicity, which is delivered with honesty and quiet resilience, which makes for a profoundly powerful and deeply provocative drama that dares to stand in solidarity with the victims of police brutality of both the past and present, as well as offering us a bleak warning about what the future holds for those who are blind to the clear evidence to where the country will head after a while. Haunting but powerful, Monsters and Men is a film that has a clear message, one that we are all invited to explore, and in the process hopefully learn more about the dire state of the country, and perhaps even provoke us to seek justice for the many immense crimes committed against countless people just based on the colour of their skin.