The streak of excellent young actors continues with Markees Christmas, the titular Morris from America. He’s been dealt the coming-of-age formula, the awkward stage in adolescence where puberty is kicking in and one is starting to find himself. Not making matters easier is being a stranger in a foreign land, Germany to be precise, where one must learn the vernacular amidst the usual life lessons. Morris concerns himself not with these lessons, instead focusing on his aspiring rap career.
Still, even the most introverted of personalities is curious about the outside world, especially when they’re thirteen. Morris travails through the landscapes of Germany, headphones plugged in to accompany him. He’s most comfortable surrounded by hip hop, imagining the citizens and even sculptures around him to be head-bopping along with him. At least then he doesn’t feel so alone, the memories of New York his only friend.
The film isn’t as sentimentally saccharine as I’m making it out to be. Oh, it has a heart for sure, and doesn’t shy away from the heartwarming moments. Writer/director Chad Hartigan handles them in a more understated and honest way. Just as he doesn’t shy away from the sap, he also doesn’t shy away from the intricacies of youth: the hormones, the rebellion, the curiosity. The film is replete with scenes in which Morris discovers pornography, dresses up a pillow to practice with, and flirts with drugs all for the love of a girl. Yes, this film has a young love storyline and yes, it has a parental unit of one struggling to raise their kin right. It may be understated and honest, but it’s not without its clichés.
That’s the funny thing about life: it’s clichéd. We don’t like to admit it, as it crushes the notion that we’re all unique. Yet, we all go through the same stages of growth, all of which are accompanied by similar phases. The phase of rebellion, no matter the angle (in this case, gangster rap); the first crush, almost always heartbreaking; adulthood, a time of stability and sacrifice; parenthood, more of the same but with even more responsibility. How we perceive and handle these clichés is what makes us unique.
For a film like this, the clichés are almost forgiven as they represent the clichés of life. Keyword being almost. Hartigan adheres to the coming-of-age formula a bit too much, following the outline to a tee. Young boy discovers his feelings for a girl, he slowly loses interest in his father in favor of the girl, he begins sneaking out and breaking the rules to appease said girl, breaks one too many big ones and gets in trouble, confides in his father in a heartwarming talk, gets over his heartbreak and slowly finds his confidence. Beat by beat the film plays out with no surprises, only the setting of Germany adding flavor.
What makes “Morris from America” rise above the formula is its authenticity. Not so much in the screenplay, mind you, but in the characters. Morris is shy, but never painfully so. His charisma lies beneath the surface, coming out when he raps. He turns to rap to define him, not allowing himself to define his rap (he sings about bitches and hoes because that’s what he hears, not what he knows). When he slowly breaks out of his shell, it’s believable because he’s shown signs of charm throughout. All he needed was the confidence from another to let it shine, and all he needs is that person to reject him to shut him back down. It’s harsh, but it’s life.
Markees Christmas is so damn good as Morris! He embodies the role perfectly, with the right mixture of confusion and confidence. He sinks into the background at the youth center, but carries himself with a swagger. He doesn’t feel the need to impress his fellow youth, dubbed German dickheads, only partaking in the talent show at the behest of his crush, Katrin (Lina Keller). Before going on stage (and freezing), he scoffs at the other performers. His reaction to the school bully playing the flute is priceless, marking the moment where I knew this kid would be a star! His quizzical expression accompanied by him scanning the room for confirmation of his befuddlement is so genuine and amusing! He commands the screen at all times, with Hartigan smart enough to reign him in during the more intimate moments.
Just as authentic as Markees is Craig Robinson as his father, Curtis Gentry. He’s the typical single father trying to raise his son right, though his version of right will differ from others. He encourages his son’s rapping aspirations, giving him a crash course in the history of rap. In the opening of the film, he grounds his son for criticizing classic rap for being slow and having no hook. This is a funny scene that easily could’ve faltered due to the cheekiness of it, but Robinson treats it sincerely. He’s never playing for laughs but empathy, causing the cheekier moments to feel rich. Even when he’s regaling in a story about surprising his late wife in Frankfurt, it feels sincere, not hokey. The message is tacky, that love causes one to do stupid things, but it’s made palatable by his sincerity.
The film isn’t as strong when not focused on the relationship between father and son. Markees & Craig have such tremendous chemistry together that one could be fooled into thinking they’re truly related! When the moments come for them to argue, we believe their words no matter how trite they may seem. This is also because Hartigan prevents them from breaking out into hysterics. Their shouting matches are kept to a minimum. The biggest fight comes when Curtis discovers Morris’ profane and sleazy rap lyrics, with his anger not coming from the obscenity but the dishonesty. He wants his son to be himself, not a caricature of what he perceives is gangster. It’s a touching scene due to its frankness.
Morris’ escapades fare well due to Markees’ charisma and the focused direction. Curtis stumbles on his own, his driftlessness through life without his wife and losing his son to adolescence falling flat. This isn’t his film, at least not without Morris present, so his solo segments feel lost. His phone sex exploit is rightfully awkward, but completely unnecessary. The subtle approach to his inner pain in the first half was much more effective.
I won’t pretend that “Morris from America” is flawless. It’s riddled with clichés, some of which I didn’t even get around to. Morris’ relationship with his German speech mentor, Inka (Carla Juri), is an obvious avatar for the missing mother in his life. These clichés work both because of their comforting familiarity and the strength of the actors concretizing them. I may have knew exactly how the film was going to play out, but I enjoyed the beats as they were laid out exquisitely. The flow was as smooth as the film’s soundtrack.
Final Rating: B