(May 17, 2022 ● Oslin Pierrette)
The Last Black Man in San Francisco was a beautiful film. Greatly created, loved the premise of it. It was a moving story and film.
You start out with Jimmie and Mont. They’re going to this house, and it looks like they’re taking care of someone else’s house. Maybe it used to belong to Jimmie back in the day, but even if it’s your childhood home, you gotta let it go. Why is this house so important? You then see the people who own the house get into a dispute, and have to leave the house vacant. That gives the chance for Jimmie to re-enter his childhood home. He replenishes his old home with his old belongings. Finally rejoiced with his home. Then you find out it was built by his grandfather. That’s why it’s so meaningful. The first black man in San Francisco built a house for his family. Of course it has all this meaning. It’s not so often in the black community you can treasure things. The rent/lease, whatever. That temporary thing will be gone soon. Niggas don’t be owning shit. That’s a lot of what you get from this film, gentrification themed. Black people being manipulated, and discriminated against. Never had a chance to really have a fresh start to build something, make something. Have been gaslighted and basically abused to do the opposite. As a result, you get things like the last black man of San Francisco. Because after a while you don’t have to enforce discrimination, because all these self sabotaging aspects are engrained in the culture now. Kofi is a great example, a gentle child, not a natural fighter. He never got a chance to be himself. Had to adapt to the harsh environment. Had to put an abrasive shield on his inner child. To become this hardened shell of himself. A reason you would hate on someone like Jimmie and Mont, for being “white” or “different”. It’s just nigga shit engrained in the culture. “The other crabs gotta be dragged in a barrel too. You just not about to be free from this trauma, from this trap. You gotta be one of us too. Trapped with us in this barrel”. And you can’t be mad at them for that mentality. It’s not their fault. It’s just the environment of dumb nigga shit. “But why would crabs be in a barrel? Crabs shouldn’t be in a barrel. So how you going to tell me how crabs should act if they in a barrel? Of course they pull, they in a barrel.” It makes no sense on the surface, but deep down you know it’s not their fault. It just hurts to see that it just is the way it is. You just wish you had a grandpa who had a house that could’ve kept you off the street. That would’ve stopped you from getting into nigga shit. Where in those safe walls you could’ve been able to grow something of yourself, but nope. They are on the street and have to survive, and you have to do nigga shit to survive. You can’t be no soft ass nigga and be in the streets, or you’re gonna get got. Reason why things like gentrification are easier to enact, because niggas mind are not on the betterment of the community, or of their culture. They gotta work on surviving shit, and it’s not initially their fault. It was never really under their control. It was all set up for them to fail. This nigga shit was the goal for some people.
Also this movie has to do with the wiping and washing of culture. Beautiful rich culture, memories, and beautiful communities. It’s just something about black joy that others can’t stand. The platform of the beautiful culture, rested on the foundation of temporary land that they were forced to move out of. Just for some unnecessary extra amount of greed, with no remorse. Just an easy wipe and wash. Then put up their overly expensive stuff. That’s when the transplants come in, and destroy what’s left of the reminisce of culture. Just seeing the aftermath of gentrification of what you used to call home. Is just a deeply heartbreaking feeling. The death of your community. There is no going back home.
With all that explained. All that is put into the reason why he is preserving that house. You find out he doesn’t really have family. They’re all scattered and disconnected. He just casually saw his mom on the bus and said hi, then got off the next stop. So you can’t really rely on your family for the feeling of home. Just try to rebuild a house that probably reminds you of that feeling of stableness or something. It’s the place that allowed him to be him. Then come to find out, the house was never his. Never built by his grandpa. Just a false escapist dream that he deeply wanted to believe in. It created this delusion that his life made sense at some point. Because really, who doesn’t want to dream that their grandpa owned and built a home for his generational offspring to be stable and safe to grow up and grow something for themselves. Like the great play, it’s ok to be everything you are, wherever you go. You don’t need the house to define that.
At the end. All the beautiful culture and memories were resting on the temporary foundation. All the culture and memories of that house got moved, wiped, and washed. For some unnecessary greed. Created this blandness these transplants and gentrifiers love, but Jimmie gets to let go. He now has it in his mindset and understanding, to create something for himself. Now he’s moving forward instead of preserving backward.
This was an amazing film. With great performances. I love all the meaning they put into this film. Especially with how subtlety they crafted it. Great stuff.