Rating: 3.75/5 
The eponymous pariah is shy poet Alike (ah-lee-kay, Adepero Oduye), a 17-year-old high schooler living in secret (to her parents, at least) as a lesbian – except when she reluctantly hits said club with her best friend, the confident, GED-aspiring Laura (Pernell Walker). Her Bible-thumping mom (Kim Wayans – no, seriously) constantly chides Alike for her “tomboy” style of dress (baggy polo shirt, baseball cap) while her often-absent police officer dad (Charles Parnell) is generally pretty understanding – that is, when they’re not arguing with one another. As the film goes on, Alike goes to school where she shows her poetry to the obligatory cool English teacher, argues with her little sister (Sahra Mellesse) and ends up getting set up with a more feminine friend (Aasha Davis) by her mom, thinking Alike could use a “positive” influence in her life.
It’s a low-concept, slice of life kind of movie about burgeoning sexual identity in a culture where that kind of thing is taboo, but besides the stellar cast, emotional veracity is the film’s strongest asset. Writer/director Dee Rees works from real-life experiences she herself had, but that by no means makes for a narrow point of entry. Alike is a teenage girl on the cusp of adulthood trying to forge her own identity, and most people know the feeling of still having your parents breathing down your neck despite your own desires for liberation. Everyone’s either liked the wrong person or somehow felt used coming out of a false-start of a relationship. All of that primal teen stuff is still simmering in our subconscious, just waiting to be tickled by a story that taps into that same adolescent goo.
Dee Rees’ directing pretty much comes out of the Indie Director’s Handbook – there’s a given gritty, naturalistic milieu, some pretty lighting and the odd bit of shitty handheld cinematography. Oh, and a needless shot of flocks of birds flapping through the sky. However, for a first film it’s visually impressive enough, and the script is the star of the thing, anyway.
Pariah didn’t get the kind of mainstream boost that Oprah Winfrey and Tyler Perry gave Precious, but it could get that kind of exposure just for standing out, and lately the film industry loves to elevate films about unfamiliar territory. However, Pariah does have Kim Wayans in a part equivalent to Mo’Nique’s role as an honorary member of Cobra Command. You could imagine Wayans’ agent telling her that this script could be the next Precious, as she is astoundingly, immediately hate-able as the overly strict mother, and, in the end, the only major irredeemable character in the film. But seriously, that bit’s a touch distressing.
I’m bringing up the film based on the novel Push by Sapphire for another reason: I’m actually afraid of lavishing too much praise on a film about a world with which I’m not intimately familiar. And when the earlier film officially opened, not only did it blow up, but it also immediately became mired in a web of debate: were we flipping for this film because it was good, or because we’d otherwise look like racist assholes, a fear that not only manipulated our emotions, but our white guilt? That said, opening consonants and urban racial stuff aside, {Pariah} doesn’t play into the manipulation any more than the average drama. Instead, Pariah has emotional honesty on its side – something that no nutshot AIDS revelation or Oscar-baiting monologue could ever hope to top.
Pariah is a potentially huge moment for gay and lesbian themed cinema. It’s an accessible, well-orchestrating coming-of-age movie about coming out, which could be very valuable to young people living in similar situations. Here’s to hoping it finds that audience, awards season be damned.
