For his feature-length directorial debut, David Fortune zeroes in on a father, Lucky (William Catlett), and his son, Mason (Jeremiah Daniels), who has Down syndrome. The two live in Atlanta, Georgia, and when Fortune introduces us to them, we sense an air of sadness engulfing the household. That's because Lucky's wife and Mason's mother, Tammy (Brandee Evans), died in a car accident, and it won't be a spoiler to reveal that both father and son sorely miss her. Was it a hit-and-run case? Did the police catch the culprit and send him to prison? Fortune seems largely uninterested in such questions. Instead, he opts for a documentary-like depiction of mundane details, lingering on scenes such as Lucky teaching Mason how to pronounce "purple." Mason also draws and colors in a book, and when he follows Lucky's orders obediently, when he does his assignments well, he makes Lucky smile with satisfaction. Otherwise, Lucky loses his patience quickly when Mason tries to be, um, "defiant," as when he holds on to a balloon or keeps writing "Mason" as "M-son."
Was Lucky always like this with Mason? Or are these the frustrations of a grief-stricken man who dearly misses his wife? Is this why Mason, at one point, tells Lucky that he misses his mother because, when she was alive, both his parents used to be happy and incredibly patient and indulgent toward him? Fortune provides no explanation. As far as the past is concerned, he uses brief flashbacks that show Tammy smiling, laughing, and playing with Mason. It's the typical "dead wife" cliché that cinema has returned to so often that it has practically become a parody of itself. Fortune also tells us little about Lucky's job or financial condition. As a result, it's difficult to gauge the stakes of certain situations. How much strain does spending $1500 on a car put on his finances? How much does he spend on Mason's medicines? What is his profession?
Fortune elides too many details in favor of an "intimate experience" that, too, has its share of eye-rolling clichés, including the scene where a car breaks down and the one where Lucky loses Mason on the train after dozing off. The simple synopsis of the movie is that Lucky takes Mason to his first baseball game, traveling from Atlanta to Truist Park. On their trip, they encounter many obstacles, meet friends and strangers, and grow closer to each other. Fortune, though, doesn't go much deeper beyond this description. Throughout their journey, Lucky rarely talks about what the baseball game means to him personally. You get the sense that the father and son don't regularly go on these trips, which is why it seems strange that Lucky shares so little with Mason about the buildings they see and the streets, parks, and neighborhoods they pass through before reaching their destination.
Fortune doesn't really seem keen on hearing the voices of his characters. He merely deploys them to prove an irrefutable point: parenting is tough. This is why most of the film's pleasures originate from scenes in which Lucky helps Mason pronounce words like "waffles." They highlight the challenges parents face—and the rewards they receive—when raising and tutoring their special children. Fortune also pays close attention to his actors, which results in a film that derives much of its texture from sharp performances. Color Book obtains its "color" from a talented cast and the subtle nuances they bring through their well-calibrated expressions. Yet the substance Fortune works with is thin, and the film rides high on the value of its good intentions. Color Book often feels like a short film expanded to feature length. It's okay; it's serviceable. But, alas, it isn't much.
Final Score - [5/10]
Reviewed by - Vikas Yadav
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Publisher at Midgard Times