In the popular imagination, interaction with the police has become a kind of foil for the African-American experience. The intersection is most often described as a tense affair, evoking fear, distrust, and the very real possibility of unjustified violence.
“The Knife,” the directorial debut of former NFL star Nnamdi Asomugha, brings these themes and more to the silver screen in an effort that is, for the most part, gripping.
The narrative follows the happenings of one fateful night in the life of an upwardly mobile Black family looking for a break. An exhausted young father (Asomugha) nursing a body racked with pain. A mother (Aja Naomi King) looking for her next job. Two happy children (Amari and Aiden Gabrielle Price) smart enough to know when to tell a little white lie.
It’s funny how something as simple as a home intrusion can upend not the life of the criminal but rather that of the victim(s)—that is, when the latter are Black people in a society that sees them as guilty until proven innocent. So it is with the family in this film, who evoke compassion for a general plight that is frightening in that it is so clearly possible in America.
Even the word “victim” is tortured in “The Knife,” applied by a police detective (Melissa Leo) to the intruder because they end up on the floor in a pool of blood—a perfectly reasonable outcome with breaking and entering. The family? Akin to a “couple of bank robbers,” the detective says, because they seem unsettled. Go figure.
Granted, the detective here and elsewhere is presented as almost cartoonishly evil, engaging in her own patterns of deceit as she ostensibly discerns exactly what brought about such a perfectly domestic crime scene. Despite the family’s own imperfections and illegal activities, the film makes no bones about who the real villains are.
Miranda rights? Not mentioned until well after the interrogations. Parental rights? Just pull a gun on them instead. Reasonable doubt? Well, maybe the intruder was a client!
“A crime was committed,” the detective says without a hint of irony, while referring to anything but the activities of a White woman who unlawfully entered a Black family’s home with apparently ill intentions.
At a certain point, tension gives way to absurdity. Police interactions are not to be trifled with, especially for African Americans, but fictionalizing reality beyond the frame of believability seems to almost cheapen the real-life crisis. Ultimately, I walked away wondering whether the story of “The Knife” was intended more for dramatic impact than the socially conscious commentary most viewers would immediately intuit.
Of course, this should not surprise. The director, a Nigerian American, is the son of immigrants—a pharmacist and a chemical engineer—and was raised in the suburbs of Southern California. He is a Berkeley grad and has been a millionaire since (at least) his early twenties. He is hardly communicating from experience when he writes a story about how African Americans experience and respond to the police.
(Actually, co-writes. The script was a collaboration with a White guy from New Orleans Metairie, Louisiana.)
Granted, is fame and fortune a surefire shield against the realities of anti-Black racism in America? Perish the thought. Asomugha may very well have lived through (some) of the horrors depicted in the film.
From the looks of it, though, “The Knife” is a well-intended effort that nevertheless could be in the running for Best Original Cosplay. Give it a watch, but if things seem to get a little wacky, remember the context.
Nate Tinner-Williams is co-founder and editor of Black Catholic Messenger.
