“Exhibiting Forgiveness” (2024) starts in the studio of a successful painter and family man, Tarrell Rodin (Andre Holland), which is connected to his home where he lives with his wife, singer songwriter, Aisha (Andra Day), and their son, Jermaine (Daniel Michael Barriere). After a successful exhibit, his agent, Janine (Jaime Ray Newman), sees his latest work and encourages him to prepare for another showing, but he is eager to move his mom, Joyce (Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor), out of her home in his childhood neighborhood and into his peaceful space. With Joyce’s encouragement, his father, La’Ron (John Earl Jelks), a recovering crack addict, appears with the desire to reconnect, but Tarrell is horrified that his parents are acting as if nothing happened to cause this estrangement. Straddling two worlds, the past and present, his urban roots and affluent art world, Tarrell feels torn between the two, which jeopardizes his future. Will he find a way to move forward and does forgiveness hold the key?
“Exhibiting Forgiveness” feels like an independent film reprise to “Creed III” (2023) meets a spiritual sibling to “Mickey Hardaway” (2023) with a skosh more optimism. Writer and director Titus Kaphar makes his feature directorial debut, an autofiction film. Kaphar’s day job is as a painter who is best known for “Behind the Myth of Benevolence,” a portrait of Thomas Jefferson attached to a nude portrait of Sally Hemings, and his transition to film is as visually sumptuous as his work, which is featured throughout the story as Tarrell’s work. With its deliberate pacing, the average viewer may find it challenging, especially since the narrative beats sometimes take an unexpected turn or zigs when you expect it to zag. It is also the kind of film that improves and feels like a masterpiece with repeat viewings, which will reward patient viewers with a deeper understanding of the rich story structure, which may seem straight forward, but is more complex on second glance.
While Tarrell is the main character, early on, “Exhibiting Forgiveness” introduces La’Ron at his rock bottom before he gets sober. Six months pass for him in moments interspersed with Tarrell’s present. The past haunts both men in similar ways during the day—a teenage boy seems to be assessing them and trying to communicate, but he is not dead. Because Tarrell is a creative, he straddles numerous realities: past trauma fueled night terrors, his creative space where he exorcises those demons, his family time and the art world. Because La’ron is not a part of at least one of those worlds, Tarrell is functional, but when his dad reappears, the walls of compartmentalization begin to crumble, and then an unexpected heart break of enormous proportions makes him fall completely apart. Each seismic blow leads to Tarrell confronting his rock bottom when he finally was done with his father.
If “Exhibiting Forgiveness” sounds like it is the usual angst between fathers and sons, it is, but it is also so much more. While Tarrell, LaRon and Joyce are in the thick of it, everyone else who is less affected and have their own lives outside the frame and unresolved family drama, struggle with how to support them. Kaphar conveys that life is still rolling by while the trio wrestle with their relationship to each other and the past. Tarrell and Aisha are still artists who feel compelled to create even in humbler surroundings to process their lives and offer a piece of themselves to their loved ones. When the film ends, there are no pat answers, and the ending is ambiguous but somewhat hopeful.
The title refers to the second exhibit’s title, but the concept of Christian forgiveness is the axis that the story rotates around. Tarrell’s little (half) brother, Quentin (Matthew Elam), correctly says that their predicament is really about their mother, which is true. Joyce has deemed La’ron worthy of forgiveness and refuses to accept Tarrell’s stance. In the same scene, two people react differently to the same story, the definition of goodness, and everyone is right and wrong. Kaphar paints a nuanced picture of how people receive and practice Christian principles without oversimplification. La’Ron has changed, but his view of forgiveness and goodness is tinged with self-interest to receive undeserved mercy from his family. Joyce uses forgiveness as a thought terminating cliché to ignore Tarrell’s boundaries and minimize his stance, which she knows is fair in a conversation that she only has with La’Ron. Kaphar reveals that she is also acting out of self-interest, which is simultaneously an act of genuine love for her son, which saves her from seeming like an unforgiveable pick-me who chooses a man over herself and her child. For Tarrell, their view of forgiveness is toxic and a way to excuse the inexcusable. It demands more of him than those who wronged him. When his mother says that he must forgive so he can be forgiven, while any Jesus follower understands it is rooted in the concept of original sin, it would be reasonable to say that he is the only one without sin.
Scenes leading up to the denouement prioritize the artist’s creation process over the domestic drama when Tarrell finally grasps from a memory how he felt in the past to an event unfolding in the present. While it is not the easy fix that Jesus offers and is not a safe space, painting offers room for the power of prayer and forgiveness to seem like an option. Because Kaphar prioritizes character development and thematic connection over convention, he prioritizes shifting focus over resolution and completion. A shop owner gets injured, but the story does not show what happens. A person ends up in the hospital, and in the subsequent present scene, Kaphar expects his audience to be intelligent enough not to need a walk through every step from the bed back to the outside world. Aisha’s journey is less detailed, but she is more than a supportive wife and mother. Throughout “Exhibiting Forgiveness,” her composition of “Bricks,” a song made for Joyce, that Cassandra Batie and Jherek Bischoff wrote, encapsulates the entire story and parallels her husband’s journey of using art to get through the pain and express love.
Art also serves as a promised land that the intended audience does not get to enjoy, which leads to bittersweet feelings. It is an act of love that is not guaranteed to reach its intended target. While the second exhibit feels like a mashup between “The Photograph” (2020) and “Get Out” (2017), the microaggressions puncture the vicarious delight in the contrast of the luxurious workplace with the humble motel digs while staying in the hotel. “Exhibiting Forgiveness” is most surprising at how there are no damning consequences after Tarrell reacts in ways that are usually considered inappropriate for the less privileged.
“Exhibiting Forgiveness” ends where it begins: in Tarrell’s studio, and in the same tone, the intact, harmonious father and son relationship with Tarrell still succeeding at treating his son as a beloved child whom he exists to emotionally regulate and nurture. Seeing where he came from will make his present existence notable not because of professional success, but his soul deep character. “Building with bricks we were never given.” It is not an easy watch because of how close it hits to home in terms of emotional realism, but it is worth the discomfort to enjoy the catharsis and peace that comes with it.
