'The Underground Railroad' Review: Berry Jenkins Masterpiece
Berry Jenkins’ new Amazon limited series The Underground Railroad is a fictional tale following the journey of runaway slave Cora Randall played by Thuso Mbedu. In reality, the underground railroad was a system of abolitionists, hidden routes, and safe houses established to assist enslaved Blacks seeking freedom in non-slaveholding states or Canada. However, Jenkins envisions this metaphor as a literal subterranean railroad/locomotive for our protagonist to use to move from state to state. It is fully equipped with engineers, conductors, tracks, and tunnels. The series begins with Cora fleeing a slave-holding plantation in Georgia after a captured runaway slave is publicly burned at the stake by his and Cora’s master, Terrance Randall. Accompanied by Caesar Gardner, the two set out for freedom, only to be met with misfortune along the way. The main antagonist of the show is Arnold Ridgeway (Joel Edgerton) who relentlessly tracks the pair with the help of his freed slave Homer.
Jenkins is joined once again by regular collaborators: composer Nicholas Britell and cinematographer James Laxton. In regard to the former, I found that throughout viewing this series I was not watching a show but experiencing one. Britell’s sound design should be praised as a piece of ASMR heaven. From the snapping and crackling of a forest engulfed by delirious flames to the crisp whip lashings of leather against the skin, it’s beautifully and brutally realistic, establishing the haunting fact that the real world is scarier than fiction. Britell does an excellent job contrasting these heinous realistic elements with a score that summons tears as quickly as it does smiles. All the while, managing to leave his personal touch of authenticity. The sound design in the Underground Railroad is a link to more than just the eardrum. It is a bridge to a tangible world Britell and Jenkins so seamlessly create. Through the audio we are able to feel the weight of iron fetters as they uncomfortably drag across the ground, screeching with every step; the looming song of crickets play as nature’s own ominous soundtrack; the free air expelled from the vast subterranean maze leading us vicariously through Cora to emancipation. Britell goes further mirroring the themes of freedom Cora struggles with along her journey. There is also a use of eclectic music littered throughout the series, established at the end of episode one with OutKast’s “B.O.B.” The effect is jarring and yet, links the events of the past with the modern context of today. Episode nine ends with Childish Gambinos’ “This Is America”, capping off the 77 minutes of intensity as a reminder of who got the last laugh.
Speaking toward the latter, James Laxton’s cinematography is visually arresting. He harnesses the series style of magical realism, utilizing candlelight and lanterns to bring out this sense of enchantment. His camera seems synonymous to that of a portrait painter’s brush -- gently oscillating back and forth all the while perfectly capturing arresting faces riddled with expression. Jenkins longtime editor Joi McMillon re-ensures the inventive nature of the novel translated onto television. It seems as though the series is limited in its use of editing, rather than using long sustained shots to further enhance the hold it has on the viewer. It is evident in other projects that Jenkins has an adoration for the human face and that sentiment shines through in The Underground Railroad. He is graced with the ability to capture not only the face but the human condition making the viewer feel more attached to the characters. The brave heroine Cora and even the appalling Ridgeway are never consumed by the ghastly historic backdrop relegated to symbolic devices. But rather, thanks to Jenkins’s immense talent as a director, they are elevated as genuine people that just so happen to be characters in a series.
