Much like Is God Is earlier this year, Your Mother Your Mother Your Mother is bound to be in and out of theaters with haste, despite being an absolute banger. It happens to a few movies every year, partially due to audience tastes, but mostly due to the fact that some movies simply cannot be advertised in a way that is both accurate and compelling. This, of course, ain’t to say that either of these films aren’t compelling, just that there’s really no way to sell them outside of a niche crowd without outright lying.
But I won’t lie to you! It’s not in my bag of tricks. So you know I’m telling the truth when I say that YMYMYM (I’m not typing it out again), is a damn good, damn original movie — one worth seeing on the big screen.
See Is God Is too. More truth bombs from ya boy Scully.
Trailers make YMYMYM look like Mahershala Ali doing his own John Wick sort of thing, which Je would be well within his rights to do. I believe it was Andy Warhol who said “in the future, everyone will have their own John Wick knock off.” He was right, but YMYMYM is not a John Wick knock off. Not even close. Sure it has some fisticuffs here there, and yes, Ali plays a hitman whose past is catching up to him, but this is all secondary to what the movie really is: a film about faith and fatherhood.
In the wake of his wife’s passing, Latif (Mahershala Ali) is called upon to be a more present father than he ever was. To hear him say it, his distance from his children was due to work commitments — someone had to pay the bills. But upon taking a more active role, he finds out that being a dad is a lot more difficult than he ever could have known. His teenaged daughter is growing into a strong, opinionated woman with tastes that baffle her stern father. His son is at the age where his father is both his hero and his biggest fear. And then there’s Latif’s infant daughter, who simply will not take formula. Unfortunately for Latif, his supply of frozen breast milk is running out.
A devout Muslim, Latif’s occupation puts him at odds with his mosque community, and his religious intensity keeps him at a cultural distance from his children. When his quest for sustenance puts him in the path of Pastor Hwan (John Cho), the leader of a militant religious cult hell-bent on “purifying” the world of sinners, Latif must go on the run with his children in tow.
The intersection of faith, duty, and ethics lies at the heart of every plot development, which makes for a film that is decidedly timely. With Christian Nationalists infecting our government while using Islam as a scapegoat for their own failures of faith, it’s rather refreshing to see a movie that depicts the Muslim community as they are: normal people with a chosen faith (that happens to be one of the most practiced religions in the entire world). Sure, they have their human flaws (Latif’s job as a hitman is tied to members of his community, although not drawn from it), but they are unrelated to the belief system. Meanwhile, Pastor Hwan’s faith quite explicitly features guns in its logo. I mean, the fact that it even has a logo is nuts on its own.
I’m struck by one powerful scene where Latif and his family hide out in the home of a Mormon neighbor. There’s obvious love and care between them, despite what some would view as a complete incompatibility of faith. Latif tells his LDS cohort how moved he was by one of their prayers, and he means it. It’s a touching moment that illustrates what true practitioners of many faiths know: it’s all the same ends, just by different means. Pastor Hwan, however, has different ends: the gathering of power and influence. Yet the film motivates him via what he would describe as true belief. And boy oh boy does Cho make for a scary villain. It’s a terrific performance.
Writer/director Bassam Tariq shoots much of the film in intimate closeup, which gives the film a classic, old Hollywood feel, but in modern grindhouse clothes. This allows for big performances that also utilize subtlety, which results in a diverse cast with no small characters. Even the smallest role is given the opportunity to exhibit many layers. One character, who arrives in a scene only to be quickly killed, feels like he had a life before entering the story (and would’ve had a life after the story if not for the machete in his armpit). It’s been a while since I’ve seen a film where I could make this claim. Mickey 17 comes to mind.
The cinematography is some of the best I’ve seen in recent years. There’s a grindhouse feel to it (I can’t find any literature to whether or not this was shot on film, but I suspect it might have been). The cast features a wide array of skin tones, placed in a wide variety of settings: indoor, outdoor, day, night, neon-soaked nightclubs, sparse churches. Not a single moment fails to capture and artistically apply the varying color palates. At no point does anyone’s skin tone or wardrobe feel unaccounted for in the lighting and composition. This is no easy task.
YMYMYM moves at a steady, intense pace, thrust forward not by action beats, but by character motivation based in simple human need. Latif, above everything else, has to feed his daughter. If a fight has to go down in order for it to happen, so be it, but this is not the engine of the film. Yet when the action does arrive, it hits hard. It’s not atylized in the ways we’ve become accustomed to in recent years. It’s sloppy, brutal, and realistic, and Tariq shoots it with clarity. Your mileage may vary on how believable it is within the established rules of the film, but in the hours since chewing on the excesses of the third act, I think it suits the overall thematic structure.
I’m glad Blade fell apart. While I’m sure this creative team would’ve made a banger, YMYMYM is infinitely more interesting than the failed MCU project ever could have been.
Directed by Bassam Tariq
Written by Bassam Tariq
Starring Mahershala Ali, John Cho, Abubakr Ali, Adia, Tiffany Boone
Rated R, 111 minutes
