What’s frustrating about Crown Heights isn’t the story itself, but the bland way these real-life events are told. Don’t get me wrong, there’s plenty of outrage to be had over the raw deal then 18-year-old Colin Warner received at the hands of the State of New York in 1980, and at the 20 years he spent behind bars for a crime he didn’t commit, but director Matt Ruskin never allows us to fully understand Colin or those who helped to exonerate him. It’s a story worth telling – and worth watching – but what should have been a testament to the power of the human spirit, is instead a rather flat, perfunctory trip through a tragic miscarriage of justice.
Over-policing of black neighborhoods, police brutality, and racially biased judicial practices are receiving a lot of coverage recently – and it’s about time. The structures that prop up these systems, however, are as centuries old, making what happened to Colin Warner all the more chilling when one considers how many others it’s already happened to – and likely continues to happen to. Crown Heights, though, doesn’t seem interested in the systematic reason behind why Colin Warner was falsely identified, arrested, tried (alongside the real killer), and convicted, but just that he was. The possibility for an engaging and eye-opening exploration of a justice system infested with top-to-bottom racism sits in plain view, but is largely ignored. A missed opportunity, for sure.
Putting that aside, Crown Heights still offers a compelling enough story to make it worthwhile. Lakeith Stanfield (as Colin) once again proves more than adept at jumping into any role thrown at him. The evolution Colin undergoes – from scared teenager to unprepared prisoner, and eventually to self-reliant stoic – is cleverly portrayed through a combination of sly underacting and reserved outbursts. Stanfield possesses the power to say much with few words, using facial expression and eye movements to convey a range of emotions – and it works wonders here. Nnamdi Asomugha as Carl, Colin’s best friend and biggest champion, also holds his own as he maddeningly navigates the Kafkaesque maze that is the U.S. justice system. From the start, the pair establish themselves as very easy to root for, making the third act resolution a rewarding one, if a bit conventional.
James is a writer, skateboarder, record collector, wrestling nerd, and tabletop gamer living with his family in Asheville, North Carolina. He is a member of the Southeastern Film Critics Association, the North Carolina Film Critics Association, and contributes to The Daily Orca, Razorcake Magazine, Mountain Xpress, and Asheville Movies.