Though I had an opportunity to see Queen & Slim ahead of its Thanksgiving release, I intentionally waited until the opening weekend to take in the highly-anticipated film, directed by Melina Matsoukas and written by Lena Waithe, with the masses so I could react and discuss in real-time. I went in with a baseline knowledge of the plot. I left the theater feeling reinvigorated with the reminder that yes, love is a powerful force. But Black love is revolutionary.
*Spoilers Ahead*
Queen (Jodie Turner-Smith) and Slim (Daniel Kaluuya) have ice-cold chemistry as they sit across from each other at a diner. Queen is an attorney who is completely underwhelmed by Slim during their first date. She is curt and closed off. In fact, she only responded to his three-week-old Tinder message because she found herself in need of some company after the state sentenced her client to death.
Some banter is exchanged in the car ride home, leading Queen to jokingly steal Slim’s phone and browse through his playlist. As he reaches over to retrieve his device, Slim swerves and the couple is pulled over by an overzealous cop who scours the car in search of any contraband that could justify an arrest. Before you know it, things escalate. Queen gets out of the car demanding the officer’s badge number, causing the angry cop to shoot her in the leg. A struggle between Slim and the officer ensues, and as the gun slips away, Slim must make a split-second decision between the cop’s life or his own. He grabs the gun and fires back in self-defense. Queen convinces Slim they should flee the scene rather than turn themselves in. And just like that, their lives are forever changed.
On the surface, Queen & Slim is most easily classified as a modern-day iteration of Bonnie and Clyde. Unlike the glamourized folk heroes, Queen and Slim’s fugitive status was not something they went looking for – it was simply a result of the “wrong place, wrong time” conundrum that often comes with being Black in America.
In this beautifully shot film, pain simply becomes a backdrop to a moving and unlikely love story. Even with danger around every corner, the two of them find small pockets of time they fill with joy and intimacy, like when they slow dance in a steamy juke joint in the deep South while the patrons who watch on quietly keep their secret. Slim’s fearlessness as he mounts a horse for the first time. The two of them taking turns bathing in the open country air as they hang halfway out of the car window. Risks they take because they never know when they’ll take their last breath. It all reminds us that love, as always, is our constant in a world where our Black bodies are disregarded and hunted.
We’re reminded that Black love is our greatest remedy even at a time when all seems lost. We were also served helpings of this truth through Queen’s uncle Earl’s storyline. He’s a pimp who briefly provides them shelter in his New Orleans home. One of Earl’s girlfriends, Goddess (played by Indya Moore) tells Queen why she loves her uncle, even when he’s undeserving of it. “Out there, he ain’t shit. But in here, he’s a king.”
Then there’s the love scene. Nestled in their parked blue Pontiac Catalina, Queen and Slim’s simmering chemistry comes to a boil. As Queen tearfully recounts the circumstances surrounding her mother’s death, Slim plants a sweet, reassuring kiss on her cheek. The innocent peck unfolds into passionate lovemaking. It wasn’t until I left the theater that something about this moment in their story clicked to me. I wracked my brain trying to recall when I’d last seen two dark-skinned lovers take part in a passionate, consensual sex scene on the big scree, in a major studio movie. Not shrouded raunch or hints of comedy. The truth is, Hollywood has always been reluctant to make Black actresses the object of affection and tenderness, but especially those with darker skin. It felt refreshing that eroticism in a Black movie be handled with such care.
Love shows up, even in power struggles where Queen’s militance clashes with Slim’s attempts at being level headed. Even when they don’t agree about their approach to survival, they agree that they must survive by any means necessary. It’s their commitment to each other that keeps them alive in some of the bleakest circumstances throughout the film.
Together, they imagined the exhausting and uncertain run would end with their whisper network leading the way to a worry-free existence in Cuba. When a fleet of cop cars pulls up behind them on the runway, they’re met with a devastating end. Freedom is no longer a possibility, yet Queen vows to Slim that she’ll never let go of his hand. Their intense bond holds until the film’s tragic end, when they die in each other’s arms. Posthumously, they are immortalized with t-shirts and murals honoring their legacy. Two Black rebels who found love during their quest to escape. Through pain and uncertainly, they sustained and became each other’s legacy.
During a time when love can be triggering or feel impossible to come by, theirs was given center stage to exist and inspire. I’m glad we have characters like Queen and Slim to explore the complexity and glory of Black love. It is a legacy we cannot do without.