A few years ago, I went to Toronto to visit family for a few months, and during my time there, friends from across the city took me around different neighborhoods for a culturally immersive experience. On one such evening, after a day of historical sightseeing, we went to let our hair down at a bar called the ‘Red Room.’ At midnight, once the music had switched genres and chaotic electric-pop had slowed to a mellow, we heard a cacophony of shouting and snapping from the streets. I was standing near the door with some college students talking about shared interests when I saw the blood drain from their faces. They looked at me and said pointedly, “Time to scoot; we need to leave now.” I was taken aback by this abrupt end to our budding conversation and followed them out onto the street, where we were confronted with a sight I will never forget: two gangs of men stood opposing each other. A red car with a few girls was parked behind one of the gangs; these girls were drinking and hurling abuses. It seemed like one of the men from the opposing gang had done something inappropriate to the girls, so her friends had come to avenge her. In a matter of minutes, the abuse switched to the lashing of a belt on the back of a guy, racial slurs bouncing off walls, blood dripping on the street, and finally a gunshot. We stood frozen in our spot. The memory of this incident, the characters involved, and the thick accent they spoke in rang in my mind as I watched Morningside and its inhabitants exist in the same ecosphere.
Spoilers Ahead
How does The Film use parallel narratives to explore varied themes?
The film begins with a long one-take shot that walks through the corridors of the fictitious “Morningside Community Center,” as different characters walk across the screen, giving us a peek into the relationships and dynamics that we are going to witness over the runtime of the film. In this way, although the film is set in the larger context of Toronto, we are aware that its intention is to observe the lives inside the microcosm that is this community in Scarborough. Three primary storylines interlock in a karmic manner. There is Amber Rose, whose ambition is to become a singer, and that becomes the driving purpose for her mother, FI, who is fighting against all odds to make this dream a reality; Shanice and Jay, who are in a toxic relationship fueled by addiction and ambition; and lastly, Josh, who has broken the glass ceiling of his circumstances as a security guard and is trying to become a police officer so he can escape the systematic changes that are against him. There are many others who populate these three worlds and become catalysts and mediators to these characters, thus influencing the destiny of the film.
How does the film being deeply personal also become a drawback for the audience?
What stood out to me was the unfiltered gaze Ron Dias, the filmmaker, adopts in both the dialogue and the look he gives this piece, which lends a lived-in quality to the texture of the narration. It is evident from his treatment of the content that this is a deeply personal film, and these aren’t just characters but people whose like he has witnessed and interacted with in the real world. A criticism I have as a non-local is that the dialect in which some of the characters speak is extremely alienating and distracting for a larger audience to comprehend, and this creates a barrier to understanding the nuance of motive that is necessary, especially in a film where the ensemble has so many moving parts.
How, irrespective of Fi’s efforts, Is Amber still a victim of her upbringing?
Fi is a single mother who is an active participant in the community center in trying to rehabilitate as well as aid at-risk youth to pursue their goals without being jaded by the violence and economic upheaval that surrounds them. Her ambition for the young to break out of their treacherous situations also extends to her daughter Amber Rose, who is a vivacious and ambitious teen. Amber has a YouTube channel; she is aware that having a personality and a brand is her calling card to the world. The film opens with her auditioning on stage, and Fi is called by the supervisor at the community center, who asks her to get Amber some singing classes so that she can hone her talent. Fi takes this advice and requests a local singer to give Amber classes so she can prepare for a talent show. For Fi, if Amber is able to break away from Scarborough, it will also set an example for the other kids in the community that it’s possible to achieve whatever they set their minds to. However, Amber, like most teenagers, wants to hang out with her friends and also has a boyfriend she hasn’t told her mother about. She sneaks away from music lessons to meet him, which is when she gets caught, and this becomes a point of conflict in their relationship. As Fi imposes rules and boundaries to keep Amber on track and not let her suffer the fate that Fi must have had to as a single mother, Amber rebels. Their dynamic represents how nurturing can help a child come into their own, irrespective of the conditions they are exposed to, but it still can’t protect the child from the environment or its dangers, sometimes making them bait for situations beyond their control.
Why did Shanice keep forgiving Jay?
Shanice and Jay’s story is one that is both relatable and widespread in many relationships. It speaks about how love is often exploited by emotionally and financially abusive partners to get away scot-free from responsibility, commitment and taking ownership of their own mistakes. Shanice is a fiercely independent girl; she owns her own car, has an apartment, and works a job. She seems like she has her life together until we see the cracks appear in the form of her boyfriend, Jay. His presence spells trouble right from the word go. In the very first interaction, we realize he’s in debt and has borrowed money to begin a business that hasn’t taken off, so he needs more time to find his bearings. Apart from being broke, he is also living at Shanice’s house rent-free and borrows her car carelessly, all while cheating on her, emotionally manipulating her, and inviting other women over to her house when she is at work. To top it all, he keeps the company of his addict brother, Breeze, who is wildly inappropriate, ruthlessly irrational, and seems to be living on the brink of insanity. The interaction between these two men where they sexualized women and objectified them was extremely triggering for me as an audience. However, I must mention that Shanice not throwing this man out of her house, despite walking in on him with another woman, was even more disturbing. You could see that she had a deep-seated insecurity that he was exploiting to keep her tied down. She was putting on a mask of strength for the world outside, but in her space she was submissive to his needs. There is a familiarity and comfort between them, which could be because of their shared history or the empathy one has when you know where the other person comes from and want to support them. However, these relationships are often cyclical, and as time passes, they either grow together or pull one another down. This was an instance of the latter, and so its end is also inevitable.
A confused aftermath of violence
Josh, the security guard at the community center, whose journey chronicles his attempt at becoming a police officer and settling down with his long-distance artist girlfriend, is one of the nicer characters in this film, and as a viewer, you find yourself rooting for his story. However, he too is surrounded by problematic friends who laugh at his ambitions and are preoccupied with drugs and frivolous buffoonery. You start noticing how most of these characters who want a way out are obstructed by their own fears, emotions, and roots, which are tied to the very place that is holding them back. This manifests in the film when a shoot-out happens at the community center, a night before the talent show when everyone is decorating the hallways.
The circumstances of the shoot-out are ego-driven and avoidable, but due to the lack of gun control and the rampant accessibility of unlicensed weapons, a local goon gets irked by Breeze when he hits on his girlfriend and comes chasing after him though the doors of the community center. In a fit of rage, he opens fire in the center with the aim of killing Breeze. However, the bullets end up hitting Josh and Amber who along with the rest of the community are decorating and preparing the center for the talent show. These innocent victims getting shot reveals a deeper political issue underneath the surface.
An ambulance stands parked, unmoving, as Fi shouts and says, “Why aren’t they going to the hospital?” The cops sideline Josh’s friends who are trying to take him to get help as he draws shallow breaths, struggling for life. The systemic forces we expect to come to our aid in times of crisis turn a blind eye to the lives of those involved in or affected by nefarious activities. The ending comes as a jolt but also leaves a bitter taste in the mouth of the viewer about the government and its multiple agents. It makes one question, what was the point of this film, and what is the statement the makers are trying to project? Are the perpetrators of the crime also victims of systemic oppression? Do human lives in sensitive areas not matter enough to fight for their justice? Who does the law protect and what can be done to eliminate prejudice held by people who are meant to serve equally?
Morningside’s ending leaves us with many questions unresolved and lets the audience sit in the discomfort of their own answers. I believe there was a pertinent story that lay beyond the end slate that should have been told to us instead of the one we watched. A large part of this film was a representation of incidents and news we could find out from a quick internet search about “communal violence in Scarborough.” But the reaction of the first responders, the lack of accountability by the authorities present at the incident, and the numbness of the community in the aftermath echoed loudly long after the film ended.
