Attending an elite college is a privilege afforded to few, but memories of one’s collegiate experience remain deeply nostalgic for people from all walks of life. Writer/director duo Carlos Key and Kalijah Rowe’s Kingston peeks behind columned doors to transport adults back their time on campus, while offering pointed commentary on the state of modern society. Even the most intelligent and privileged of Gen Z graduates face an increasingly bleak future.
Kingston feels structured like a television show in the manner which it follows three separate storylines simultaneously. Atlas (Rose Badiru) is an extremely passionate, first-generation, low-income scholarship recipient; Amber (Leann Gardner) and Marcos (Nick Snipes) are a budding dating app couple manipulated by their friends to avoid commitment; and Professor Liu (Michael C. Liu) is a Mandarin teacher working with failing student Cyrus (played by co-writer/co-director Carlos Key) to pass the course and graduate. Fans of Netflix’s Dear White People will find a lot of commonalities, particularly in the way both astutely capture the rhythm of campus culture.
Despite the level of intelligence of its gifted student body, Kingston reminds us that these are still naive teenagers portrayed by their irrationally poor decisions in romance. A great scene alluding to “Summer Nights” in Grease bounces back and forth between casual hangouts of each gender, revealing reactions to a blossoming summer fling between Amber and Marcos. Because this is, after all, a nerdy, Ivy League setting, both groupings attempt to rationalize relationships through mathematical formulas and graphs designed to convince the two to avoid settling down. Characters cleverly analyze perceived utility value in the search for a romantic partner, weighing the possibility of finding a best possible match of the highest caliber against the risk of losing someone genuinely worthwhile already present. This results in the funniest part by far: intelligently written, sharply observant, and amongst the most culturally relevant at Tribeca yet this year.
Bureaucracy and student disinterest is the topic at hand in the Chinese language education subplot. School administrators are just as concerned as ever with ticking boxes for testing over ensuring their students actually learn something. My father was an educator for much of his life, and these problems have been omnipresent for decades. As Liu endeavors to teach differently to break through rebellious Cyrus’ walls, his methods are criticized at every turn, even though they finally seem to be successful. Cyrus’ alcoholism, entitlement, and resistance don’t help the situation either.
Atlas’ story focuses on her inability to fit in with her more financially secure classmates, despite possessing a deeper passion for Kingston than nearly anyone she encounters. Though her experience may be the least personally relatable, she eventually becomes the epicenter of particularly relevant cultural discourse. A greater question ultimately emerges to evaluate whether belonging within these spaces is rooted in genuine connection and a thirst for knowledge or merely in proximity to privilege and opportunity shaped by racial and socioeconomic inequality.
Political commentary surrounding the corporate interests tied to prestigious internships, environmental concerns, gentrification, artificial intelligence, and vastly differing viewpoints among students is explored head-on. Conversations become so heated that the dialogue occasionally fades beneath the power of the performers’ facial expressions and body language.
Editing here is aptly timed, as scenes impeccably clip on a deliciously awkward or uncomfortable segue. As a result, each scene is ever more compelling. Fast moving sequences allow the audience to spend the perfect amount of time with each protagonist before any have overstayed their welcome. Camera angles and framing are consistently sharp, with fluid and inventive movement that incorporates techniques such as fisheye lenses and exterior window shots to observe characters from a distance. The score is equally well done, emphasizing the conflict or discomfort in each emotionally perceptive scene.
Architectural cinematography rapidly cutting between locations allows for seamless transitions between the trio of subjects. The fictional campus itself is portrayed so stunningly that it comes as little surprise that this was filmed at Columbia University, where Key was a senior at the time of production. His perspective as an active undergrad lends an unmistakable sense of authenticity that resonates throughout.
Kingston opens blue balloon decorated doors to prospective students when it premieres at the Tribeca Film Festival on Thursday, June 4th.
