When was the last time you averted your eyes from someone you don’t know? Maybe they were sitting on a curb. Or holding a sign by the road. It’s possible they were screaming at the air or just passed out from sheer exhaustion. Poverty can have that effect on people. And that’s exactly who they are: People who experience the same emotions as all of us. They are who the films of Sean Baker capture.
Given the director’s recent Palme d’or and Anora, his upcoming movie that earned it, let’s sneak onto a few flights and explore what makes his masterful character work tick. In this four-part series, we’ll hop to almost every corner of the continental U.S. in this not-quite retrospective. (By no means does this mean Four Letter Words, Take Out and Starlet are lesser films. We just aren’t covering them … for now.) Who knows? We could learn a thing or two as Baker pulls our ears to the streets and points our eyes at raw, beautiful humanity.
Good morning, sweet prince
Where better to start than the city that never sleeps? Prince of Broadway is Sean Baker’s third feature and second set in New York City after 2004’s Take Out. It was co-written by Darren Dean, who in combination with an electric and organic cast, brings intimacy, humor and sincerity to the film. And like our next three films, it lodges us shoulder to shoulder with a character hurled into a crisis.
Partially based on the lead’s actual life, Prince of Broadway follows Lucky (Prince Adu), a clothing hustler who sells knock-offs with his boss, Levon (Karren Karagulian). Lucky scrapes by, smoking weed and daydreaming about the future with his girlfriend, Karina (Keyali Mayaga). Levon, on the other hand, struggles to keep his marriage together. Both grow closer and even converge when Lucky involuntarily gains custody of his one-year-old son (Aiden Noesi) who he never knew he had. He opts to name him Prince, after his late dad’s dog.
The merchandise is fake, but the characters aren’t
Sean Baker’s dialogue is so real and colorful, that it almost feels wrong to call what we see “performances.” (For Noesi, the film’s baby, it likely wasn’t.) Some of the film’s cuts feel rough, but only in service to the conversations. He pairs it with a nonstop barrage of extras and background noise. Attempting to cut everything out would be a near-impossible task with Baker’s equipment and, more importantly, the tone he’s striking. But it works. The rough edges give the film its almost documentary-like style and — by extension — its appeal.
But while intimate cinematography sets a tone, the story animates it. Lucky’s topsy-turvy predicament feels universal, but not ham-fisted. On one hand, he’s desperately trying to lose Prince for the bulk of the film, its climax taking the form of a DNA test reveal. At the same time, he grows deeply attached to Prince. They fight in the middle of the night. Lucky shows him the art of hustling, letting him play with $20 bills. He even abandons Prince for a few minutes at a Chinese restaurant, as the camera lingers on the child until Lucky returns with a face full of regret.
Similarly, Levon’s life starts to implode when his 26-year-old wife, Nadia (Victoria Tate), abruptly leaves after a pregnancy scare casts doubt over her happiness. His misguided attempts to bring her back fail, and eventually, he loses his knock-off operation to an undercover police raid. Despite what feels like his collapse, he finds hope in Prince and pushes Lucky to be a father.
Their friendship is mostly built on business, sure, but it’s also derived from their shared struggle. Both are migrants. Both have a suave charm. And both find themselves almost completely alone. Prince closes that gap, inspiring both to hold on against desolation.
The vision of Sean Baker and an unheard cry
Throughout Prince of Broadway, Lucky sells inauthentic Air Force 1s, instigates a street fight, and screams for someone to help him with his son. All the while everyone walking the city moves by him. They proceed unbothered, uncaring, or just trying to mind their own business. True, most of the pedestrians might not know they’re in a drama, but the effect works all the same.
One scene epitomizes this and almost immediately cuts to the film’s heart. Shortly after Lucky’s ex drops Prince on him, he stumbles through Broadway, holding his son in one arm. At one point, he cries while holding his son in one arm, “Why will no one look at me?”
His question, of course, goes unanswered. Yet he continues to beg it of everyone around him. Their responses remain the same. Lucky can only march forward and accept the hand he was dealt. Sean Baker keeps the frame alongside him, and we bump with each step, walking with Lucky but incapable of intervening.
Such is the nature of movies, but with Baker’s cinematography, we can practically feel Lucky’s breath. It’s a level of closeness that few films achieve, yet it’s one of the more prominent threads that tie together Baker’s work.
Let’s keep that in mind as we catch a flight to Hollywood for our next flick, Baker’s masterpiece of a clusterfuck, Tangerine. We’ll see how the director tightens up his cinematography without sacrificing what makes his craft real and poignant. Just keep your wits about you, or you might catch a stiletto in the eye.
