Black and Blue Balances Tension and Theme Like a Good Thriller Should

If I were one of those hackish ’90s screenwriters in Robert Altman’s The Player, my pitch of Black and Blue to the coked-up executive du jour would simply be “It’s Training Day meets The Hate U Give.” Just like Denzel’s unofficial Oscar reel from 2001, Black and Blue is about an idealistic rookie cop named Alicia (Naomie Harris) coming across violent police corruption and struggling to survive the day as she’s being hunted by both the crooked cops and residents of the astronomically underprivileged neighborhood she patrols, who understandably hate her guts simply because of her job and the race-based brutality it represents. From that end, it’s a pulse-pounding, tightly wound thriller that sticks its predictable but nevertheless effective ending in order to provide a satisfying genre retread.
What elevates the material and gives it social immediacy is in the way screenwriter Peter A. Dowling meticulously provides a structural balance that deftly explores the deep fear and distrust communities of color feel toward those who are meant to protect and serve them, while never forgetting to gradually dial up the tension and the stakes for our Hitchcockian “wrong place at the wrong time” protagonist. Like Starr from The Hate U Give, Alicia yearns to find common ground and be part of the change that both communities desperately need—to hold bad cops accountable and rebuild trust between the community and the good cops who actually put their lives on the line in service of justice. Like Starr, she’s consistently punished for approaching both sides not as archetypal boogeymen, but as people.
The first time we meet Alicia, she’s harassed by two white policemen who immediately go for that super-non-racist cliché of “What are you doing in my neighborhood?” It’s only when they realize she’s a cop that they let go. So we’re left to wonder: What would have been the outcome if she didn’t have that badge on her? Would she have survived the altercation? Director Deon Taylor doesn’t even let the opening credits finish before cutting to this scene, as if to underline the urgency of the issue. Once Alicia gets to her job after being harassed by her colleagues, she finds herself on the other side of the fence, the focus of disdainful and suspicious looks in the poor New Orleans neighborhood she patrols. Despite a unique understanding of what they’re going through, and efforts to inject a modicum of trust and good faith into this broken relationship, she is met with both dehumanization and ridicule. Both sides tell her, either through clear body language or admittedly on-the-nose dialogue, you’re either blue, or you’re black. There isn’t any gray area.