American Promise

American Promise

An exceptional documentary on the theme of race, family and education, “American Promise” is both intimate and grand. The film took 14 years to finish because it was designed to follow two boys from kindergarten through high school. In fact, when filmmakers Joe Brewster and Michele Stephenson who are also spouses first began shooting, they intended to track several children’s scholastic careers, including those of girls.

But when all the other subjects except for their own son, Idriss, and his best friend Seun Summers dropped out, they were left with a movie about two African American boys entering a privileged, mostly white academic environment a focus that accounts for much of the film’s provocative power and cultural importance.

When we meet them at age 5 in the late ’90s, Idriss and Seun are as cute as they are fortunate. The sons of stable and motivated black professional couples living in Brooklyn (both boys have younger sisters), they are plucked to attend Manhattan’s tony Dalton School on scholarship: It seems this opportunity arises both from the school’s new commitment to “diversity” (which means trying to reflect the city’s racial makeup) and their parents’ determination to give their offspring the best possible educations. Though it wasn’t called “American Promise” at first, that title perfectly expresses the hopefulness that suffuses both families as their sons embark on this daunting educational adventure.

But success does not follow opportunity as easily or quickly as one might wish. Smart, likable kids with articulate parents not least among them Idriss’ father Joe who clearly adore them (the feeling is mutual), both boys seem from early on like fish swimming upstream academically. They simply can’t keep up with or surpass most of their classmates who are almost all well-off white kids no matter how many teachers or counselors seem determined to help them do so.

It’s as if there were some invisible cultural force field blocking their progress. Idriss, who slips into hip-hop patois when he goes to play basketball with boys from the projects lest he be accused of “talking white,” also perceives that he’s punished more quickly than whites at school. Is it because, as a black kid, he’s expected to cause problems?

By middle school and the onset of adolescence, the challenges have multiplied and the parents’ exasperations grown commensurately. Although Idriss and Seun feel that their folks are pressuring them too much (Joe tells his son “You’re not living up to your potential” before any other parent in recorded history), Brewster and Summers say they don’t believe they’ve been tough enough.

After Seun arrives late for a martial arts ceremony and is told by his father that he screwed up because he was given too much freedom, the boy looks at the camera and smirks, “They think waking up by yourself is freedom.” Falling further behind academically toward the end of middle school, he leaves Dalton or as Joe puts it while sitting in on a Banneker class, “I got to snatch him outta here” migrates down to Brooklyn public school Benjamin Banneker Academy.

According to a Dalton administrator, the main confusions here are that at their school “African-American girls do okay. But there seems to be a cultural disconnect between independent schools and African-American boys, and we see a high rate of the boys not being successful”. “And why is it that? What are we doing as a school that is not supporting these guys?”

Another perspective on this question comes from a teacher at Benjamin Banneker, who suggests that diversity itself may be an unworthy goal; he cites his school’s success rate as proof that black students often perform better academically among their peers than in environments where they feel isolated and constantly compared to more privileged classmates.

Brewster and Stephenson did not aim to make a film about what newspaper columnists refer to as the “black male achievement gap,” but they have done so, and it may be the most profound one ever made. Since it is filmed in direct-cinema style (Michael Apted’s “Up” series was an inspiration), there are no interviews with experts pondering over why this gap exists.

But this is probably for the best. Instead of trying to provide some all encompassing explanations or solutions for what is clearly a very complicated and multi-faceted issue, the filmmakers investigate it through the lens of two families. Viewing it that up-close and personal gives people an immediate and tangible point of departure for conversation, and indeed it would be surprising if “American Promise” does not become the basis for countless conversations throughout American homes and schools in years to come.

But even though it sheds light on one crucial problem, the film does much more than clarify facts. Watching Idriss and Seun from their first day of school until they leave for college (a happy enough ending considering both boys’ arduous academic journeys) is deeply satisfying; few viewers will finish this documentary without spending time thinking about their own lives or family situations.

For the families here, the challenges are sometimes insurmountable. Struck by unforeseen tragedy towards the end of filming, the Submerses dropped out of the project for a spell but eventually returned, perhaps realizing that telling Seun’s story in this fashion might help others. It is hard not to admire their bravery.

A film such as this is obviously a massive undertaking, yet Brewster and Stephenson managed to finish it while navigating through several technological changes that took documentary filmmakers from shooting on tape to digital. “American Promise” is beautifully shot (by multiple camera operators) and edited; credited editors Erin Casper, Mary Manhardt and Andrew Siwoff should be commended for an eloquently structured and consistently compelling film.

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